Kajira of Gor

by Norman, John;

  "They like to have a full complement of slaves on hand," I assured him. "If I were to be sold to you, they would have sent out an extra girl, an addition to my group."

  "And so they have," he said, smiling, "though separately, as I requested. Her name is Emily. Perhaps you know her?"

  I looked at him, aghast.

  "Do you know her?" he asked.

  "Yes, Master," I said. "She was trained in the cycle after mine. Apparently they have now transferred her to my group."

  "Doubtless as your replacement," he grinned.

  "Yes, Master," I whispered. I looked at him. "Then I belong to you, truly?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said, "every inch, every hair, every freckle, every drop of sweat, every drop of intimate oil."

  I shuddered.

  "Here is your new collar," he said, displaying it for me. "Isn't it lovely?"

  "Yes, Master," I said. It was an attractive collar of gleaming steel, with a small, sturdy lock at the back. In it I would be as well marked, and as helplessly confined, as I had been by the collar of Aemilianus.

  "See here?" he asked. "'I am the property of Miles of Argentum,'" he read.

  "Yes, Master," I said, miserably.

  The collar would set off the beauty of a woman, mark her as slave, and identify her master.

  Such are the three major functions the Gorean slave collar for a female, any female.

  "Lift your chin," he said.

  I did so.

  He then snapped the collar about my throat. I wore the collar, then, of Miles of Argentum.

  "It is a perfect fit," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "It is the same size as the other collar," he said. "I had your collar size from the Enterprises of Aemilianus."

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "You do not seem pleased," he said. "I do not understand that. I thought you would be overjoyed."

  "I am overjoyed, Master," I whispered.

  "Good," he said. "I like my girls to be happy."

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "I paid fifteen silver tarsks for you," he said.

  I was startled. "That is too high a price for me," I said.

  "I do not think so," he smiled.

  "I am not worth anything like that," I said. For such a price one might get a fine dancer. Some of the lesser girls in a Ubar's pleasure gardens might not have cost so much.

  "You are to me," he said.

  "I will endeavor to see that you get your money's worth," I said.

  "Have no fear," he said. "I will."

  I began to tremble, uncontrollably. He freed my left ankle of its shackle, that which had fastened me to the slave ring.

  "Stand," he said.

  I stood.

  "You are not very tall, are you?" he said.

  "No, Master," I said.

  "But you are well curved," he said.

  "Perhaps, Master," I said. "Thank you, Master."

  "This is the key to your slave bracelets," he said. He showed me a key, on a string. He slung the string over my head and, by it, hung the key about my neck. It fell between my breasts. Much good it did me. I could not reach it with my braceleted hands.

  "I am going to turn you over now to Krondos, my slave master," he said. "You will find him a kindly and fair man. On the other hand, your least imperfection in either discipline or service will be severely and promptly punished."

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "As I am an indulgent master," he said, "you will be accorded clothing from your first day in my ownership."

  "Master is generous," I said. I was not speaking ironically. Sometimes a girl, particularly a new girl, must strive for days to earn even a narrow strip of cloth and a piece of string.

  "It will be a tunic appropriate to the girls of Miles of Argentum," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said. He was a soldier. He probably would have a distinctive tunic, in effect, a uniform, for his females. I had no doubt, too, he being a soldier, that it would display us well.

  "Clothing privileges, of course, may be quickly revoked," he said.

  "Of course, Master," I said.

  He picked up my silk, that which I had worn to his quarters last night, before I had removed it at his command, and wrapped it about my old collar and its key. These things he placed on the foot of the couch. They would be returned, doubtless, to a representative of Feast Slaves, currently in the palace.

  "After you, Lady Sheila," he said, gesturing graciously toward the door.

  I preceded him to the door, where I stopped.

  "May I speak, Master?" I asked.

  "Of course, Lady Sheila," he said.

  "Fifteen silver tarsks," I said, "is a great deal of money to pay for a mere feast slave."

  "Yes," he said, "fifteen silver tarsks would be a great deal of money to pay—for a mere feast slave."

  "Master understands clearly, I trust," I said, "that that is all I am, that I am only a feast slave."

  "Do you really think," he asked, "that I would have paid fifteen tarsks for you, and had you brought here with your group, all the way from Ar, if you were only a feast slave?"

  "But that is all I am," I said, "only a feast slave!"

  He spun me about, to face him. He stood but inches from me. I was naked. My hands were braceleted behind my back.

  "Kiss me," he said.

  Obediently I stood on my toes and kissed him.

  "Do you call that a kiss?" he asked.

  "Forgive me, Master," I said. "I am frightened."

  "And of what possibly might you be frightened?" he asked.

  "I do not know, Master," I said. "I hope nothing."

  He smiled.

  "Permit me to try again, Master," I said. I then kissed him again, but this time as a slave.

  I hoped that I might please him. Perhaps then, I hoped, he might set aside his suspicions, and keep me as what I was, only a slave, only another of his girls, perhaps hoping occasionally to be recollected, and summoned to his slave ring. How his girls must strive to please him, I thought, that they might be again, and again, brought to his chambers, to be granted the distinction and joy of his caresses. What a tribute to their attractiveness, and their skills as a slave! How they must compete with one another, I thought, to become the favorite! But how much better, I thought, to be the single slave of one's master, and to learn him, and serve him, with heat and devotion, regularly, day in and day out, to cook and clean for him, to keep his chambers with perfection, to tidy, and dust and launder for him, to sew for him, to iron and press for him, to shop for him, to wait for him when he returned from work, kneeling, then kissing his feet, to care for him, to be with him, to talk and talk with him, to share his hopes and concerns, and mine, and to eagerly, extensively and lasciviously serve his most intimate pleasures! To be such that he would never want to sell me! Too, perhaps, I thought, if I were sufficiently pleasing to the magnificent Miles of Argentum he might keep me, for his amusement, even if he believed that I was actually Sheila, the former Tatrix of Corcyrus. Might he not enjoy having her at his feet? Might that not be pleasant, she groveling before him, a cringing slave, hoping to be spared, fearing his whip? Might not such pleasures be preferable to simply having her humiliatingly and publicly executed, elevated, writhing and screaming, on an impaling spear?

  "Very good, Lady Sheila," he said. "From the first time I saw you, I thought there was a slave in you."

  "I do not understand," I said.

  "That is interesting," he said.

  "Why do you call me 'Lady Sheila'?" I asked, protestingly.

  "It amuses me," he said.

  "Who do you think I am?" I asked.

  "You are now, as I own you," he said, "whoever and whatever I wish you to be, but the most interesting thing about you, from my point of view, is who you once were."

  I looked at him, with fear. "And who do you think I was?" I asked.

  He took me and threw me against the wall. I turned, and faced him, the wall at my b
ack.

  "You look well," he said, "my former regal slut, now reduced to total slavery, naked and in slave bracelets."

  "No," I whimpered. "No, no." I shook my head, helplessly, trying to deny his accusation.

  "To my lips," he commanded.

  I fled to him, and kissed him, deeply, as a slave. I drew back. I saw that I had kissed him too well. "No, no," I whimpered.

  He took me by the upper arms and, thrusting me from behind, forced me across the room. He then put me over one of the large chests at the side of the room. I felt the wood of the chest, and the iron bands. The key about my neck, on its string, made a small sound as it struck the wood.

  "It is not my fault if I bear a resemblance to Sheila, the Tatrix of Corcyrus," I said.

  "You kissed well," he said.

  "Oh!" I cried, entered.

  "Very well," he said.

  "Thank you, Master," I moaned. Sometimes a slave girl does not understand the incredible power she exerts over men, what she can do to them with a kiss, with a glance, with a smile, a gesture, a touch. My wrists twisted helplessly in the slave bracelets.

  "I cannot help it if I resemble her!" I said.

  "You do more than resemble her," he said.

  "Master?" I cried.

  "You were she," he said.

  "No, no!" I cried.

  "We do not wish to keep Krondos waiting, do we?" he asked.

  "No, Master," I moaned. "Of course not!"

  "I have discussed your work schedules with him," he said. "You will be worked hard for some five Ahn a day. Your tasks will be such things as laundering, scrubbing floors, and working in the kitchens. These seem suitable tasks for the former Tatrix of Corcyrus. Do you not think so?"

  "Yes, Master," I moaned. "Oh, Master!"

  "You respond well," he said. "I always thought you were a slave."

  "Yes, Master," I sobbed.

  "During most of the day," he said, "you will have the run of the palace and the grounds."

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "But escape, of course, will be impossible for you."

  "I understand, Master," I sobbed. Slave girls did not freely enter and leave the palace grounds. Within the walls I would be efficiently imprisoned, presumably promptly and conveniently summonable to the feet of the masters.

  "Oh," I said. "Oh. Oh!"

  "It seems that the former Lady Sheila, now in her collar, has become a hot slave," he said.

  "You did not buy me merely for this," I gasped, "for wench sport, to make me cry out and sob, and yield to you. What do you truly want of me? What are you going to do with me?"

  "At the moment," he said, "only this."

  "Oh!" I cried. And then he made me sob, and yield to him. Then I lay helpless, sweating, devastated, over the chest. My tears were on its wood. He then jerked me back and to my feet, and turned me to face him. The key to the slave bracelets, metal and tiny, dangled now again between my breasts. He held me close to him, by the upper arms. I, trembling, looked up into his face, that of my master. "Tomorrow night, at the great victory feast," he said, "you will be turned over to Claudius, my Ubar, and the high council."

  "No, please!" I wept.

  He then dragged me stumbling by the arm to the door and flung it open. A man was waiting there. He thrust me to him. I was not even permitted to kneel. I stood there, shuddering, only just had by Miles of Argentum, my arm now locked helplessly in the tight grasp of the new fellow.

  "Sheila," said Miles of Argentum.

  "Come along, Sheila," said the new fellow, dragging me along the corridor, by the arm, beside him.

  "Yes, Master," I sobbed.

  32

  The Throne Room

  The throne room in the palace at Argentum was now cool and dark. I entered, fearfully, a slave girl frightened to be in such a place. It had a lofty ceiling. I walked barefoot on the tiles to the vicinity of the dais and throne.

  I turned, suddenly, fearfully, as the door closed behind me. I could not see, in the shadows, who had shut it.

  "Master?" I asked. I knelt, not knowing what else to do. This was the afternoon of the day of the great feast, that for which, purportedly, feast slaves had been brought even from Ar. No longer now, of course, was I a feast slave. I was now a work slave and pleasure slave owned by Miles of Argentum. Tonight, at the feast, I was to be presented naked and in chains to Claudius, the Ubar of Argentum, and the council. I looked up, toward the ceiling. Suspended there, some forty feet from the floor, on a long rope, almost lost in the shadows, was a golden sack. The sack, weighted, hung heavily on the taut rope. Sometimes, with a creak of rope, it swung slightly. I was reminded of an almost immobile pendulum.

  I heard a sound in the shadows, near the door. I looked quickly in that direction.

  I could see nothing in the darkness.

  "Master?" I called.

  A girl had told me that I was to report to the throne room. She was conveying this message on behalf of a free man. She did not recognize him. He had seemed important, authoritative. As she had not hesitated to obey him, in relaying his message, so, too, I would not hesitate to obey him, in complying with it. Neither of us could guess his office or status. That he was within the palace, however, a free man, clearly suggested to us his possession of some privilege or power. As we were slaves, we obeyed. The man had been described to me by the girl, who had seemed shaken by her encounter with him, merely as one who was obviously a natural master of women such as we, slaves.

  I could see him now, dimly, in the shadows, as my eyes adjusted to the light. He was standing near the door. He was a large man. "Head down," he said, "palms on the floor."

  I immediately assumed this position. The voice sounded familiar, but I could not place it. It sounded, too, somewhat tense or feigned. I wondered if that were its natural sound, or if it were being disguised.

  I heard steps coming around behind me. Then, from behind, my head was pulled up, by the hair. I now knelt, with my back straight. My tunic, then, the tunic of Miles of Argentum, that brief, trim tunic, of brown, trimmed with yellow, with the plunging neckline, and slit at the sides to the rib cage, was stripped away from me, from the back.

  "Master?" I asked, not daring to turn.

  My hands then, with two loops of a thong, were tied behind me.

  "Master?" I begged. Then I could not speak. A heavy wadding was thrust into my mouth and secured there with a folded strip of cloth, drawn deeply back between my teeth, knotted tightly behind the back of my neck.

  I was then turned about and put on my back before my captor, on the tiles at the foot of the dais on which reposed the throne of Argentum.

  I squirmed in terror. I uttered muted, tiny sounds.

  "Yes," said he. "It is I, Ligurious, once first minister of Corcyrus."

  I looked up at him, in terror.

  "I, and two others," he said, "escaped the raid in Ar." I recalled I had heard swordplay, and the crashing of glass. "I see that you are now a branded, collared slave," he said. "It is appropriate. That is not the major or primary reason you were brought to Gor, but it was the minor or secondary reason. You were destined, from the beginning, if not for the impaling spear, then, eventually, for the collar."

  I looked up at him, terrified, over the gag, naked and helplessly bound before him.

  "You are a natural slave," he said. "Perhaps you know that by now. The brand and collar are perfect on you. You are a thousand times more beautiful as a slave than you were as a free woman."

  I squirmed, his bound prisoner.

  "I wonder how you escaped from the camp of Miles of Argentum," he said. "You certainly upset our plans in that particular. We had not even considered the possibility of such a thing. But it seems that now the former Miss Collins of Earth may yet prove useful in our plans."

  I uttered tiny, helpless sounds.

  "I have not been captured," said Ligurious, "nor have I entered the palace surreptitiously. I am here of my own will. In return for immunity I have volunteered
to give evidence for the state of Argentum in the identification of the Tatrix of Corcyrus. Who would know her better than I? My two retainers, those two of all the others who have remained faithful, and with me, those who escaped with me from the house in Ar, have been entered into the palace in the guise of envoys from distant Turia. As I will have my business here, so, too, will they have theirs. There is some dispute, you see, as to who is the true Tatrix of Corcyrus, she who is even now suspended in the golden sack near the ceiling in this very room, or yourself, helpless now before me on the tiles. Witnesses will give testimony. Drusus Rencius, for example, has come here from Ar. He will doubtless identify you as the true Tatrix, as he did before. We saw to it that he, like several others, knew only you as the Tatrix. Similarly I have had clothing smuggled out of Corcyrus, clothing which you wore. This will be presented to Claudius, the Ubar, and the high council, as the clothing of the Tatrix of Corcyrus. You will be identified as the former wearer of the clothing, of course, by sleen. The work of Claudius and the high council, of course, will be made somewhat easier by the fact that when the golden sack is opened at the banquet it will be occupied not by the true Sheila, but by you, her dupe and double. We will not encounter objections by Hassan, the Slave Hunter, as he will not appear at the banquet. My two men will see to it that he is detained. Similarly, objections will not be encountered by Miles of Argentum. He will receive information, purportedly from Hassan, that he had the wrong girl and that you, as he now recognizes, are the true Tatrix. Accordingly he has placed you in the sack and, in his embarrassment, and fearing a loss of honor, has left the palace, taking the other girl with him, she then to be consigned to some suitable slavery or other. In this fashion we expect Miles of Argentum to be satisfied. He, in any case, is convinced, as you probably know, that it is you, and not the other woman, who is the Tatrix. This, of course, is because we saw to it that he, like certain others, would know only you as the Tatrix. He will identify you as the true Tatrix, for he knows you as such, with the same conviction as Drusus Rencius, and others. All this is in accord with our plans. And, of course, I, too, shall identify you as the true Tatrix. You may depend on it. Meanwhile, of course, the true Sheila will be concealed in my quarters, later to be smuggled from the palace in the guise of a free woman, that of a companion of one of my retainers, supposedly an envoy from Turia. The slave brought in with him in this role, put back in proper slave garb, has already been sold to an officer in the palace guard. He could not resist the superb price on her."