“No, Master!†she said.
He regarded her, torn with his love for her, and his hatred of the island of
Cos.
She lifted her crossed wrists to him, for binding.
But he did not move to pinion them. The cord, of course, (pg. 27) was not for
such a purpose, though that was a purpose which it could surely serve.
She separated her wrists timidly, and looked him, puzzled, with love in her
eyes.
“I am eager to be pleasing to you,†she said.
“That is fitting,†he said.
“Yes, Master,†she whispered.
“For you are a slave,†he said.
“And yours,†she said, suddenly, breathlessly, “yours, your slave!â€
He looked at her, angrily.
“I exist for you,†she said, “and it is what I want, to please and serve you.â€
She was much in love. She wanted to give all of herself to Marcus, irreservedly,
to hold nothing back, to live for him, if need be, to die for him. It is the way
of the female in love, for whom no service is too small, no sacrifice too great,
offering herself selflessly as an oblation to the master.
He regarded her, in fury.
She extended her arms a little, toward him, timidly, hoping to be permitted to
embrace him. “Accept the devotion of your slave,†she begged.
I saw his fists clench.
“I love you. I love you, my Master!†she said.
“Sly, lying slut!†he said.
“No!†she wept.
“Mendacious slut of Cos!†he cried.
“I love you! I love you, my Master!†she cried.
He then struck her with the back of his hand, striking her to one side, and she
fell, turning, to her knees. She looked up at him from all fours, blood at her
lips.
“Were you given permission to speak?†he asked.
“Forgive me, Master,†she whispered. She then crawled to his feet and, putting
her head down, kissed them. “A slave begs the forgiveness of her Master,†she
said.
Marcus looked down at her, angrily. Then he turned to me. “Her use, of course,â€
he said, “is yours, whenever you might please.â€
“Thank you,†I said, “but I think that I can find a rent wench outside in the
camp, or, if I wish, buy a slut, for they are cheap in the vicinity of Ar these
days.â€
“As you wish,†said Marcus.
Although Marcus was harsh with his slave, pretending even to a casual and brutal
disdain for her, he was also, it might be mentioned, extremely possessive where
she was concerned. Indeed, he was almost insanely jealous of her. She was not
the sort of girl, for example, whom he, as a hose, even at the cost of (pg. 28)
a certain rudeness and inhospitality, would be likely to hand over for the
nightly comfort of a guest. It would be at his slave ring alone what she would
be likely to find herself chained.
“Stand up,†said Marcus to the girl.
“I hear some music outside,†I said.
“Yes,†I said.
“At least someone in the neighborhood seems cheerful,†I said.
“Probably peasants,†said Marcus.
I thought this might be true. There were many about, having fled before the
march of Cos. Driven from their lands, their stock muchly lost, or driven before
them, they had come to the shelter of Ar’s walls. Still they were ready to sing,
to drink and dance. I admired peasants. They were hardy, sturdy, irrepressible.
Phoebe now stood humbly before Marcus, as she had been commanded.
“Wipe your face,†said Marcus.
She wiped the blood away, or smeared it, with her right forearm.
“This cord,†said Marcus, “may function as a slave girdle. Such may be tied in
several ways. You, as a slave, doubtless know the tying of slave girdles.â€
I smiled. Marcus would know, of course, that Phoebe would not be likely to know
much, if anything, of such matters. Only recently she had been a free woman,
though, to be sure, one who had been long kept, languishing, it seemed, and, of
course, incompletely fulfilled, in the status of a mere captive. Only a few
weeks again had she been branded and collared, and thusly liberated into total
bondage.
“No, Master,†said Phoebe. “I am not trained, save in so far as you, and before
you, Master Tarl, have deigned to impart some understandings to me.â€
“I see,†said Marcus. I think he was just as pleased that Phoebe had not been
muchly trained. From one point of view, this suggested that she had presumably
been less handled before coming into his keeping that might have been otherwise
the case. Also, of course, if she was to strive to please, and squirm, under
strict training disciplines, he would prefer that she do so under his personal
tutelage, and in the lights of his personal taste, she thus being kept more to
himself, and also being trained to be a perfect personal slave, one honed to the
whims, preferences and needs of a particular master. To be sure, this sort of
thing can be done with any woman. it is part of her “learning the new master.â€
“Master is undoubted familiar with many slaves, and things having to do with
slaves,†said Phoebe. “Perhaps then Master can teach his slave such things.â€
(Pg. 29) Though Marcus was a young man and, as far as I knew, had never owned a
personal slave before Phoebe, he, as a Gorean, would be familiar with slaves.
Not only were they in his culture but he probably, as he was of the Marcelliani,
which had been a prominent, wealthy family in Ar’s Station, would have had them
in his house, in growing up, the use of some perhaps being accorded to him after
puberty. Similarly he would be familiar with them from his military training,
which would include matters such as the hunting and capture of women, who count
as splendid trophies of the chase, so to speak, and his military life, as
officers and men commonly have at their disposal barracks slaves, camp slaves,
and such. Too, of course, he would be familiar with the lovely properties
encountered in paga taverns, and such places. Indeed, together we had frequented
such establishments, for example, in Port Cos, after our landing there, as
refugees from Ar’s Station. The Gorean slave girl seldom needs to fear that her
master will not be fully familiar with, and skilled in, the handling, treatment
and discipline of slaves.
“I am not a professional slave trainer,†said Marcus, “or costumer or
cosmetician, but I will show you two of the most common ties. Others you might
inquire of, when the opportunity permits, of your sister slaves.â€
“Yes, Master,†she said.
Phoebe, because of the nature of her acquisition and holding, and our movements,
and such, had had very little chance to associate with, or meet, other slaves.
On the other hand this deprivation might soon be remedied. I supposed, if Marcus
should take up a settled domicile. Indeed, even if we remained n the camp for a
few days, i
t was likely that Phoebe would soon find herself in one group or
another of female slaves, conversing, working together. Perhaps laundering, or
such. From her sisters in bondage a girl, particularly a new girl, can learn
much. In such groups there are normally numerous subtle relationships,
hierarchies of dominance, and such, but when a male appears they are all
instantly reduced, before him, to the commonality of their beauty and bondage.
“Also,†said Marcus, sizing up the slim beauty before him, “we can always, if we
wish, extend our repertoire of ties by experiment.â€
“Yes, Master,†said Phoebe, eagerly. It seemed she had forgotten her cuffing.
Yet I had little doubt that its admonitory sting lingered within her, not only
as a useful memorandum of her bondage but recalling her to the prudence of
caution.
Marcus looped the cord and put it over her, so that the loop hung behind her
back and two loosed ends before her.
(pg. 30) Already, it seemed, Phoebe had returned to her normal mode of relating
to him, as a mere, docile slave, not daring to confess her love openly. Yet I
think there was not something subtly different in their relationship. Phoebe
now, given his recent intensity, his denunciation of her mendacity, his fury,
his excessive reaction to them, had more than ample evidence of the depth of his
feelings toward her. She was more than satisfied with what had occurred. Such
things, to the softness and intelligence of her woman’s heart, spoke clearly to
her. She was not in the position of the helplessly loving female slave at the
feet of a beloved master who regarded her with indifference as merely another of
his women, or was even cold to her, perhaps disdaining her as a trivial,
meaningless possession.
Marcus now, roughly, took the forward ends of the cord, where they dangled
before her, and put them back, beneath her arms, through the back loop, and drew
them forward where he tied them, snugly, beneath her breasts.
“Oh!†she said.
“You are pretty, slut of Cos,†he said, standing back, admiring his handiwork.
“I wish I had a mirror,†she said.
“You may see yourself, in a sense,†I said, “in the mirror of his desire.â€
“Yes,†she whispered, shyly.
“And this,†said Marcus, loosening the cord, “is perhaps the most common way of
wearing the slave girdle.†He then took the forward ends of the cord, again
free, and this time crossed them, over the bosom, before placing them again
through the loop at the back, drawing them forward and, once more, fastening
them, perhaps more snugly than was necessary, before her.
“Ohh,†he said. “Yes.â€
“Aii,†I whispered. I then needed a woman. I must leave the tent and search for
one, perhaps a girl in one of the open-air brothels, forbidden without
permission to leave her mat or even to rise to her knees.
“Is it pretty?†asked Phoebe.
“It is a perhaps not unpleasing effect,†said Marcus.
“Yes,†I agreed.
“There are, of course, numerous ways in which to tie slave girls,†said Marcus.
“True,†I said. To be sure they tended to have certain things in common, such as
the accentuation and enhancement of the slave’s figure.
(pg. 31) Phoebe moved about in the tent, delighted. She could perhaps suspect
what she might look like.
“You see,†I said, “there is some point in permitting a female clothing.â€
“Yes,†said he, “providing it may be swiftly, and at one’s will, removed.â€
“Of course,†I said.
Phoebe then, beside herself with passion, knelt swiftly before Marcus. “Please,
Master!†she said.
I saw that Marcus was in agony to have her. He could scarcely control himself.
“Please!†wept the slave.
I expected him to leap upon her and fling her to her back to the dirt, ravishing
her with the power of the master.
Please, please, Master!†wept the slave, squirming in piteous need before him.
“What do you want?†asked Marcus then, drawing himself up, coldly, looking down
at her. It amazed me that he was capable of this.
“Master?†she asked.
He regarded her, coldly.
“I beg use,†she whispered.
“Do you protest your love?†he inquired. His hand was open, where she could see
it. It was poised. She saw it. He was ready, if necessary, again to cuff her.
“No, Master,†she said, hastily.
“Not even the love of a slave girl?†he asked.
“No, Master,†she said.
“And in any event,†he said, “the love a slave girl is worthless, is it not?â€
“Yes, Master,†she whispered, tears in her eyes. This was absurd, of course, as
the love of a slave girl is the deepest and most profound love that any woman
can give a man. Love makes a woman a man’s slave, and the wholeness of that love
requires that she be, in truth, his slave. With nothing less can she be fully,
and institutionally, content.
“You do not then protest your love,†he said, “not even the love of a slave
girl.â€
“No, Master,†she whispered.
“What then?†asked he, casually.
“I beg simple use,†she said.
“I see,†he said.
“I am a slave in desperate need,†she said. “I am at your mercy. You are my
master. In piteous need I beg use!â€
(pg. 32) “So,†said he, scornfully, “the slut of Cos, on her knees, begs use of
her Master, one of Ar’s Station.â€
“Yes, Master!†she said.
“You will wait,†he said.
“Yes, Master,†she moaned.
“I hear music, outside, the instruments of peasants, I believe,†said Marcus,
turning to me. “Perhaps they are holding fair or festival, such as they may, in
such times.â€
“Perhaps,†I said.
“Let us investigate,†suggested Marcus.
“Very well,†I said.
“Oh, yes,†said he, looking down, “what of this slave?†She squirmed. It seemed
she had slipped his mind.
“Bring her along,†I suggested.
“You are an ignorant and unworthy slave, are you not?†asked Marcus.
“Yes, Master,†she said. She was flushed and helplessly needful, even
trembling.’
“Better surely,†said Marcus, “that she be stripped and left here, behind,
alone, bound hand and foot.â€
“Perhaps if you have a slave ring to chain her to,†I said.
“You think there is danger of theft?†he asked.
“Yes,†I said.
“You think she might be of interest to others?†he asked.
“Undoubtedly,†I said.
“On your feet,†he said to the girl.
Groaning, scarcely abl
e to stand straight, so wrought with need she was, she
stood.
“There will be darkness and crowds,†mused Marcus. “Do you think you will try to
escape?†he asked the girl.
“No, Master,†she said.
“Straighten up,†he said, “put your shoulders back, pull in your belly, thrust
forth your breasts.â€
“She is a delicacy,†I said, “worth at least two silver tarsks, in any market.â€
“I will try not to escape, Master,†said the girl.
“I wonder,†mused Marcus.
“I am collared,†she said. “I am branded.â€
“True,†said Marcus.
In this way she had suggested that even if she might desire to escape such a
hope would be forlorn for her. She was reminding him of the categoricality of
her condition, of its absoluteness, of the hopelessness of escape for such as
she, a female held in Gorean bondage. For example, there are not only such
obvious things as the brand and collar, and the distinctive (pg. 33) garbing of
the slave, or the lack of garbing, but, far more significantly, the extreme
closeness of the society, with its scrutiny of strangers, and the general nature
of an uncompromising and inflexible enforcement of, her condition. There is,
accordingly, for all practical purposes, no escape for the Gorean slave girl. At
best she might, at great risk to her own life, succeed in obtaining a new
chaining, a new master, and one who, in view of her flight, will undoubtedly see
to it that she is incarcerated in a harsher bondage that from which she fled, to
which now, under her new strictures, she is likely to look back upon longingly.
Similarly the penalties for attempted escape, particularly for a second attempt,
are severe, usually involving hamstringing. Only the most stupid of women dares
to even think of escape, and then seldom more than once.
“Will it be necessary to bind you?†asked Marcus.
“No, Master,†she said.
“Turn about, and put your hands, wrists crossed, behind you,†he said.
He then, whipping a short length of binding fiber from his pouch, with two
single loops, and a double knot, a warrior’s capture knot, tied her hands
together.
“Will it be necessary to leash you?†he asked.
Norman, John - Gor 25 - Magicians of Gor.txt Page 4
