by John Norman
“Thrust out Your breasts, Tiffany,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said. I lifted and straightened my back even more, sucking in my gut and putting back my shoulders, this lifting the softness of my bosom brazenly to him, that of a slave girl, for his consideration or attentions.
“You are pretty, Tiffany,” he said.
“Thank you, Master,” I said.
“I enjoy commanding you,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“Are you a good lay, Tiffany?” he asked.
“Some men have found me acceptable, Master,” I said.
“We are going to play a little game, Tiffany,” he said. “We are going to pretend that you are Sheila, the Tatrix of Corcyrus,” he smiled.
“But I am Tiffany,” I said, frightened, “of Feast Slaves, of the Enterprises of Aemilianus!”
“But we are going to pretend, aren’t we?” he asked.
“As Master wishes,” I said, frightened.
“Stand,” he said.
I did so.
“Straighter,” he said.
I straightened up, even more.
He then, from a chest at the side of the room, fetched forth a lovely, yellow, silken sheet. This he draped, regally about my shoulders.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Tiffany!” I said. “Tiffany, of Feast Slaves, of the Enterprises of Aemilianus!”
“But we are playing, aren’t we?” he asked. I shuddered.
“Now,” said he, “who are you, really?”
“Sheila,” I murmured. “Sheila, the Tatrix of Corcyrus.”
“I thought so,” he said.
I looked at him wildly, frightened.
“Sit in the chair,” he said.
“I dare not!” I said. The thought of sitting in such a chair terrified me. It was the chair of a free person. I was a slave. I might be whipped, or slain, for sitting in such a chair. The greatest honor I might expect in connection with such a chair was to be permitted to crouch or lie at its foot, or, perhaps, to be chained by the neck to its side.
“Is a command to be repeated?” he asked.
“No, Master!” I said. I hurried to the chair and, small and frightened, sat down within it.
“Sit up more straightly, more regally, and put your hands on the arms,” he said. “Good.”
Then he came over to the chair and, bending over, carefully adjusted the sheet about me. He then stepped back. “Good,” he said. Then he sat, cross-legged, on the tiles, a few feet from me.
“Yes,” he said. “Good. That is it.”
As he sat, he was below me. The angle would be similar to that which he had had from the floor of the great hall, or from the lower steps of the dais, looking up at me on the throne.
“I never forget a face,” he reassured me.
I was silent.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“I am Sheila,” I said, “the Tatrix of Corcyrus.”
“Yes,” he said, “you are.”
He then rose up and approached me. He drew away the sheet and folded it, horizontally, again and again, until it formed, with several folds, a thick, long, narrow band, about six inches in height and the sheet’s length, about seven feet, in width.
He then passed this band about my waist and about the back of the chair. He then tied me, snugly, back in the chair. He then resumed his place on the floor.
“Yes,” he said, “clearly, at least a silver-tarsk girl.” I recalled that he had conjectured in the great hall, much to the fury of many of my retainers, that that might be about my value in a slave market.
He then rose up, again, and approached the chair. I tried to back, even further, against the back of the chair. My hands and arms were free but the thick, yellow band, knotted tightly behind the back of the chair, held me helplessly in place.
“You are not going to interfere, are you?” he asked.
“No, Master,” I said.
Then he began to caress me.
“There was quite a search for you,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“It was lucky that I found you in Ar, wasn’t it?” he asked.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“It is convenient that the addresses of many slaves are on their collars, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“It was thus easy to find you,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“What is wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing, Master!” I said.
“You are squirming,” he said.
“Yes, Master!” I said.
“Did you have a nice trip from Ar?” he asked.
“Yes, Master!” I said.
“Were you in chains all the way?” he asked.
“Yes, Master!” I said tried to hold my body still. I dug my fingernails into arms of the chair.
“It seems that you have been shorn,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said. “It was done last to me a few months ago by Borkon, my whip master, in Mill 7, of the Enterprise of Mintar.”
“I see,” he said.
“Oh,” I sobbed. “Oh!” Then I could no longer control body.
“You are squirming again,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I moaned. I writhed, helplessly, uncontrollably, held in place by the tight band of the sheet, my finger nails digging into the arms of the chair.
“You respond like a slave,” he said.
“Yes, Master!” I said.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Sheila,” I said, “Tatrix of Corcyrus!”
“I know,” he said.
I tried to lift my body more to him, to make it easier him to touch.
“That is enough for now,” he said. He removed his hands from my body.
I looked at him wildly, piteously, pleadingly. He must stop now! Surely he knew what he was doing to me.
“Now,” he said, “Lady Sheila, you are going to be leashed and then you are going to perform on your leash, and superbly, and, after that, you are going to beg to please me, as a slave.”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
He then went to a chest and from it fetched forth a thick, plain, black-leather collar with a lock closure. It was a sturdy ring attached to this collar, and, attached to ring, there was a long slave leash of black leather. It some fifteen feet in length. In most leadings, of course, this amount of length would not be used, but would be coiled in the grasp of the master. The length is useful if the slave is expected to perform leash dances, is to be bound with the leash, or if, it doubled at the master’s end, it is to be used to train or discipline her.
I sat back in the chair, held helplessly there by the thick bond of the yellow sheet. I watched him approach, with the collar and leash. He then stopped before the chair.
“I am now going to leash you,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“Lift up your chin,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said. I then felt the high, thick collar put about my neck, over the collar of Aemilianus. I could feel it snug under my chin. It was then snapped shut.
“You are leashed,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
He then untied the sheet from the chair. I had not been freed of that bond until after I had been leashed. This sort of thing is almost second nature with Goreans in the tyings and chainings of slaves. This is reasonable, I suppose, at least in many instances, that one security should be kept in effect until it has been replaced by another. He folded the sheet twice and dropped it beside the chair.
“What is a woman in a slave leash doing on such a chair?” he asked.
“Forgive me, Master,” I said. I did not leave the chair, however. I did not know what he wanted me to do.
“Slip from the chair now,” he said, “and go to all fours, and then, in this fashion, crawl ten feet away, and then turn and, in this fashion, face me.”
&n
bsp; I hastened to obey. Then, in a moment or two, I faced him on all fours, the leash dangling from the collar, its end, as I had crawled, and turned, in front of me, a few feet from the foot of the chair. He had now taken his place on the chair. How right he seemed there, how lordly and masterful.
“You will note,” he said, “that you wear a common slave leash and collar. There is nothing unusual or valuable about them. The collar, for example, is neither set with sapphires nor is it trimmed with gold. The leash, similarly, is of plain, sturdy material. Both devices are quite ordinary, but, of course, quite efficient.”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“It amuses me to put you in such common articles,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“You are now going to make as complete a circuit of the room as is practical,” he said. “You will, where practical, kiss the walls at the corners, on each side of the corner, about five horts from the corner and about ten horts from the floor. Where you come to chests or furniture, you will treat them as extensions of the wall, kissing them at the corners, and so on. You will then return exactly to your present position.”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“You may now leave,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said. “Thank you, Master.” I then began my journey. The kissing of inanimate articles, such as a master’s sandals, or the tiles on which he has walked, is used in teaching a girl respect and reverence. There was something of this involved in his command, the having to kiss the walls of his room, the furniture there, and such, but the form of the command was presumably motivated primarily by the consideration that compliance with it would guarantee a full and adequate negotiation of the room’s interior perimeter.
I was then, after a time, again where I had been before on all fours, some ten feet from his chair, facing him. The leash, dangling from my collar, was now trailing behind me, between my legs.
“Lift your head,” he said.
I did so.
“Come forward five feet,” he said, “and keep your head up.”
I complied.
“Put your head down,” he said.
I complied.
“To your belly,” he said.
I went to my belly.
“Up again,” he said, “to all fours.”
I complied.
“Lift your head,” he said.
I did so.
“It is pleasant to have the Tatrix of Corcyrus naked and on my leash,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“You may now bring me the end of the leash,” he said “—in your teeth.”
“Yes, Master,” I said. I went back to the end of the leash and, putting down my head, to the tiles, picked it up in my teeth. I then, on all fours, brought it, between my teeth, to Miles of Argentum.
He took it from me. I looked up at him, from all fours.
“Does Sheila, the Tatrix of Corcyrus, beg to perform on her leash for Miles, general of Argentum?” he inquired.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
He stood up, then, and, with a snap, shook out the leash, and then, looping it drew it back a bit towards him. He would play it out, or draw it in, as it pleased him, varying his perspective, and my distance from him, as I squirmed, and writhed and posed, from as little as an inch or two to the full length of the leash, something in the neighborhood of a full fifteen feet.
“Perform,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said, and performed.
I performed as excitingly and seductively as possible.
“More lewdly,” he would sometimes say, “more salaciously, more lasciviously!”
“Yes, Master!” I would try, and try to please him even more.
He kept me on the leash for at least twenty Ehn and, in the latter portion of this time, commanded me. It seemed as if he made me move, and posed me, in almost every way in which a strong male might desire to see a human female, and I, of course, must conform perfectly to his wishes on my leash. He even took me about the room and to his couch. He made me do such things as grind my belly against the wall of the room and throw myself, on my belly and back, over the great storage chest, wooden and iron-banded, at one side of the room. I remember the feel of the wood and iron. Too, he permitted me, even ordered me, upon his couch, there to continue my performances. I must first, of course, kneel at the lower left side of the couch and kiss the covers before being permitted to creep upon it. Then he drew me from the couch to the floor at its foot, near the slave ring. With one hand he flung covers to the floor there, on the tiles.
He then pointed to a place on the tiles, out from the covers but in front of them. “A free person has walked here,” he said. “Yes, Master,” I said. I then, kneeling, put down my head and kissed the indicated place three times.
I looked up at him.
“Crawl here,” he said, indicating a place at his feet. I did so.
“You may now kiss my feet,” he said.
I did so.
“You may now beg to be used as a slave,” he said.
“I beg to be used as a slave, Master,” I said.
“Lie there,” he said, indicating a place by the covers, the slave ring, “on your back.”
“Yes, Master, ” I said.
He then knelt near me, and took the leash and tied about the slave ring. He left some four or five feet of leash between the collar ring and the slave ring. That would allow him the slack he might need to move me about if he wished, kneeling me, say, with my head down, or throwing me to side or belly.
He then knelt across my body and held my hands, by the wrists, helplessly down, above and to the sides of my head.
“I greet you, Lady Sheila, Tatrix of Corcyrus,” he said.
“Greetings, Master,” I said.
“Struggle, squirm, attempt to escape,” he said.
I struggled briefly, predictably futilely. “I cannot escape,” I said.
“Are you in the power of a man?” he asked.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“Completely?” he asked.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“You are completely in the power of what man?” he asked.
“I am completely in the power of Miles of Argentum,” I said.
“Long have I dreamed of having you in my power,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“Are you the woman who begged to perform on a leash and then so performed?” he asked.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“You did well,” he said.
“Thank you, Master,” I said.
“As I recall,” he said, “you also begged, kneeling, and a kissing my feet, to be used as a slave.”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“It will be done with you as you requested,” he said.
“Thank you, Master,” I said.
He then released my hands and, changing his position, knelt on my right. He then began to touch me, artfully and deftly. After a moment or two I realized I would not, eventually, be able to resist him, even if he were to give me permission to try. His hands were sure. He knew what he was doing. It was only a matter of time. I lay there, helplessly, and felt my slave reflexes beginning to be triggered. I bit at the covers. I saw that he intended that I would yield to him as a sobbing, pleading, subdued slave. In this I saw that I was to be given no choice.
“You are very lovely, Lady Sheila,” he said.
“Thank you, Master,” I said.
“And you have the reflexes of a female slave,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said. “Thank you, Master.”
I did not think it would be long now. I suddenly jerked back my body from his touch. He had made it so sensitive. He did not cuff me, nor chide me, but, too, he did not give me quarter. He continued, not hurrying, patiently, relentlessly, with the process of reducing me to a man-dominated, orgasmic, conquered female slave. He now held me, his left hand at the small of my back, in place.
/> I gritted my teeth. What men can do to us, I thought, angrily. Then I wanted only to feel, beggingly, piteously.
Then again, desperately, I strove to resist. The high, black, leather collar cut at the bottom of my chin.
I could feel the tiles beneath the covers. I had not been granted the dignity of the couch’s surface. I would be had at its foot, by the slave ring.
I squirmed. I looked at the slave ring. The leash on my neck ran to it, and was tied to it.
I was leashed!
I felt his hands.
I must resist! I must resist!
“Oh, please, Master,” I wept, “let me yield to you as a conquered slave!”
I must resist!
“I beg to yield to you!” I wept.
“In time,” he said. “In time.”
The beast! The beast! I would show him! I would resist him! I would refuse to feel! I would not let him do this to me!
“Please have pity on me, Master!” I cried. “I acknowledge that I have been conquered. I am vanquished! I am now yours, and as you want me, as a slave, fully! I beg now only to be permitted to yield to you abjectly and shamelessly. Let me tender to you now the helpless surrender of an orgasmic slave!”
Who was it who cried out so shamelessly, so helplessly and brazenly for a master’s mercy? And I realized that she who cried out was I.
“Please, Master,” I whimpered, sobbing, surrendered wholly then one with myself, and wholly at his mercy. “Please, Master. Please!”
“Does Lady Sheila, the lofty and proud Tatrix of Corcyrus desire to yield to me as a slave?” he asked.
“Yes, Master,” I moaned. “I beg it! I beg it!”
He then entered me suddenly and fiercely.
I clutched him.
“Please!” I whispered.
“Not yet,” he said.
After a few minutes I again begged for his permission to yield. “Not yet,” he said. I moaned. He, by varying his rhythms and movements, brought me again and again to the point of yielding, and then stopped short, letting me go back a greater or lesser distance, and then bringing me forward, at one speed or another, again. In this he not only showed his power over me but took much pleasure from me.
