Norman, John - Gor 25 - Magicians of Gor.txt

by Magicians of Gor [lit]

  means of which he tied me to the back of the wagon. i was not to ride in the

  wagon. I was a female slave. I would follow it afoot, on my rope. It was thus,

  naked, that I was conducted to the house of my master. Twice in the streets I

  was struck by free women. My introduction to slavery had begun.”

  “Were you angry with the slave who bound you?” I asked.

  “No,” she said. “Rather I was afraid of him. He was a male. Too, I realized I

  could be given to him for his pleasure, if my master wished.”

  “I gather that,” I said, “in spite of the doubtless large numbers of beautiful

  slaves in the house of Appanius, you were to be trained as a house slave.”

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  “Do not doubt, then, your desirability and beauty,” I said.

  “I tried to do well,” she said, “to learn self-effacement and (pg. 310)

  deference, to serve ably, silently and unobtrusively. I think I did well. I

  hardly ever felt the stroke of the house master’s switch.”

  “And were you silked?” I asked.

  “As befits slaves,” she said, “clad for the pleasures of masters.”

  “How came you to the fields?” I asked.

  “One night I, and two others, were serving not in the main hall, as we commonly

  did, but at a late supper, a small, private supper, laid in the very quarters of

  my master, Appanius, and Milo, his slave, whom you have heard of, who had

  returned from a performance in the great theater.”

  “Appanius and Milo must be on intimate terms,” I said.

  “Yes,” she said. “The master treats him almost as though he might be a free man.

  They discuss matters of business and the theater. Even in the great hall, at the

  common suppers, he has Milo above the salt and at his right hand.”

  “You must have served Milo at the common suppers then?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “And as only another deferential slave,” I said.

  “Of course,” she said.

  “You must hate him,” I said.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “It was through his collusion,” I said, “that you came into the collar.”

  “Then I should be grateful to him,” she said, “for I have known for years that

  it is in the collar that I belong.”

  “I see,” I said.

  “Besides,” she said, “he, too, is a slave. He must act on behalf of Appanius.

  He, too, even though he is the great Milo, must obey. Do you think he wishes to

  be thrown to sleen?”

  “I would not think so,” I said.

  “I am far from bearing him ill will,” she said.

  “I gathered that,” I said.

  “Indeed,” she said, “it was my hope that I might be thrown him, that I might at

  least feel his touch!”

  “I see,” I said.

  “He is beautiful!” she said.

  “Not a bad looking fellow,” I granted her.

  “And there I was,” she said, “kneeling half naked in slave silk, collared, in

  bangles, waiting to serve, so close to him I could reach out and touch him,

  almost alone with him.”

  “Continue,” I said.

  (pg. 311) “And then they began to discuss a free woman. I do not even remember

  her name, objectively, casually, as though she might be an animal, a mere slave,

  like myself. I could hardly believe my ears. And then I realized that at one

  time I, too, had doubtless been so discussed.”

  “You were angry?” I asked.

  “Not then,” she said. “I think I was rather more scandalized that the woman

  should be discussed in that fashion. After all, she was not, as I, an animal, a

  slave.”

  “But perhaps she was an animal, a slave,” I said, “only one not yet in her

  collar, as once you were not yet in your collar.”

  “That is undoubtedly true!” she laughed.

  “But you became angry later?” I said.

  “Yes!” she said.

  “At whom?” I asked.

  “At both of them!” she said.

  “Because of the trickery they would practice,” I asked, “because of the toils of

  the slave net?”

  “No,” she said. “It is rather that I did not want Milo to have anything to do

  with the other woman, whoever she was! There were already enough women so

  captured in the house! What if she were more beautiful than I? What if he liked

  her, when he saw her naked in the net?”

  “You were jealous of a possible rival,” I said.

  “Yes!” she said.

  “But there have apparently been a great many,” I said.

  “I was distraught,” she said. “I was furious! My heart was beating wildly. Then

  I felt futile, helpless and miserable. I could do nothing! Such as I are

  completely at the mercy of our masters! I was only a slave! And then there were

  tears in my eyes, and Milo was so beautiful! I wanted him to see me, to notice

  me. I did not wish to be just another slave in the background, unrecognized, so

  simply taken for granted, serving but almost unnoticed, present but scarcely

  seen. I reached out, with tears in my eyes, and put my fingers on his arm.”

  “Continue,” I said.

  “He seemed startled that I had done this, as though he might not believe it. I

  looked at him, tears in my eyes, kneeling there, appealing to him, that he might

  take notice of me, though I were only a slave.”

  “Yes?” I said,

  “This was noted, of course, by my master, Appanius. Appar (pg. 312) ently I had

  not realized the grievousness of what I had done. He leaped to his feet! His

  eyes blazed. He was beside himself with anger. ‘Guards! Guards!’ he cried,

  clapping his hands. I knelt small there by the table, trembling, my head down. I

  knew I had done wrong, daring to touch Milo, I, he so favored by the master and

  I only a house slave, but I had been unable to help myself. I so wanted to be

  brought to his attention! But never yet had he requested me, nor had I been put

  naked to my knees before him, my hands bound behind me in slave bracelets, the

  key about my neck, for his pleasure. I knew I had done wrong, but I had not

  understood that it was so terrible. I had only wanted to call myself to his

  attention, and had hoped doubtless that he might sometimes be moved to take pity

  on a poor slave. ‘Guards! Guards!’ cried Appanius. I was terrified. I trembled,

  not understanding the immensity of his anger, the enormity of his response to my

  tiny, pathetic deed. Guards rushed into the room, blades free of scabbards, the

  doors bursting open. Perhaps they had feared an attempt was in progress on the

  master’s life. In a moment they were about me. I feared I was to be cut to

  pieces. He struggled, it seemed, to control himself. ‘Forgive me, Master!’ I

  wept. I crawled to him, my head down. ‘Forgive me, Master!’ I wept. I kissed his
/>   feet, fervently. He pulled away, in anger. He moved to the side. He kicked me

  twice, in fury. I returned to him on my belly, and showered my hair upon his

  sandals, and then again kissed his feet, again and again. ‘Forgive me, Master!’

  I wept, an errant slave, one who had done wrong, pleading for mercy, and

  forgiveness. He pulled back, away from me again, and then stood there, some feet

  before me, looking down at me. I was still on my belly. I looked up at him, a

  slave regarding her master with terror, lying before him, his property, on the

  tiles of his house. ‘Have her lashed,’ he said. ‘Then have her hair cropped, and

  sent her to the field!’”

  “And it was thus you came to the fields,” I said.

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  “And how did Milo respond to all this?” I asked.

  “Imperturbably,” she said. “I was, after all, only a female.”

  “Do you think that Milo finds you attractive?” I asked.

  “Master?” she asked.

  “That he would like to strip you, collar you and throw you to the furs at his

  feet, there to vent his lust upon you, his slave?”

  “I do not know if his drives are that strong, Master,” she said.

  “Would you object?” I asked.

  “No, Master,” she said. “It had always been my hope that I (pg. 313) might prove

  attractive enough to provoke such desire. I am a slave girl. I live to be the

  obedient, grateful, vulnerable object of such lust and power. I have always

  dreamed of it. I wish to be choiceless, to be overpowered and made to serve!”

  “Milo must have exhibited some interest in you, or seemed to exhibit some

  interest in you,” I said, “if only during the period of your seduction, when you

  were being trapped.”

  “Yes,” she said, “then.”

  “But after you were in the house as a slave, collared, scantily clad, utterly

  vulnerable?”

  “No, Master,” she said.

  “He never asked for you to be brought to him?”

  “No, Master.”

  “Why do you think that is?” I asked.

  “I am insufficiently beautiful,” she said.

  “Did he call for other women?” I asked.

  “I do not know, Master,” she said.

  “Did you not see names written on the call boards in the kitchen?”

  “No,” she said.

  “Interesting,” I said.

  “One of the girls, another one of we three who had been trapped by Milo, claimed

  to have been with him, but it was proven that she had lied. She had been chained

  in the stable that night. The house master found out about it and she was

  whipped, before us all.”

  “As far as you know, then,” I said, “none of the girls of the house were put

  with Milo.”

  “As far as I know, not,” she said.

  “But surely there would be no cause for secrecy about such a matter,” I said.

  “I would not think so,” she said.

  “Milo was important in the house,” I said. “He is famous. He is of great value

  to Appanius.”

  “Certainly, Master,” she said.

  “It would make sense then,” I said, “to suppose that a girl would be sent to

  him, at least once in a while.”

  “Perhaps, Master,” she said.

  “So much is done even for quarry slaves,” I said.

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  “But as far as you know this was never done?”

  “Not as far as I know,” she said.

  “And if it had been done,” I said, “it is my speculation that you would have

  heard of it, such gossip flowing quickly through the corridors of such a house.”

  (pg. 314) “I suppose so,” she said.

  “If Milo had requested a girl, do you think he would have received one?”

  “I would suppose so,” she said, puzzled.

  “Perhaps he did not request one,” I said.

  “Master?” she asked.

  “Possible Milo does not find women attractive,” I said.

  “Master?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” I said.

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  “Are you a virgin?” I asked.

  She laughed. “How long can a slave remain a virgin, Master?” she asked.

  “Whom have you served?” I asked.

  “Mostly men in the house, on the staff,” she said, “those who wanted me for the

  night. We are free to them, you know. I was muchly cuffed at first. I was

  clumsy. I knew so little.”

  “You are more accomplished now?” I asked.

  “One learns quickly under the whip,” she said.

  “And in the fields?”

  “Mostly the whip masters,” she said. “But twice I was tied to a stake, for the

  field slaves.”

  I noted that her knees had moved a little further apart, probably unconsciously,

  or without really thinking about it, after she had said this. In such ways can a

  slave, sometimes not even conscious of what she is doing, or fully conscious of

  it, beg. I glanced at Marcus, and he smiled. He, too, had noticed the tiny

  movement.

  “May I speak, Masters?” she asked.

  “No,” I said.

  She put her head down.

  “Have you experienced slave arousal?” I asked

  “Master?” she asked, looking up.

  “Have the slave fires been lit in your belly?” I asked. She was, after all, a

  relatively new slave, and had been a house slave, apparently primarily consigned

  to domestic duties, serving table and such, and was now a field slave, whose

  primary services would presumably lie in such labors as the carrying of water

  and the hoeing of suls. It was not as though she had been in the attentive and

  exacting ownership, for example, of a particular master, who would see to the

  summoning forth and cultivation of these intimate, exquisite, exigent latencies

  which once initiated seem to blossom and grow of their own lovely, imperious

  will, which cannot be suppressed or silenced, and which make a girl so much

  their prisoner, more so than collars and chains.

  (pg. 315) “Sometimes,” she said, “I sense their beginnings in me.”

  “How do you feel about them?” I asked.

  “I love them,” she said, “but I am afraid of them.”

  I nodded. Well she might be.

  “May I speak?” she asked.

  “Very well,” I said.

  “Who are you?” she asked. “Are you men of my master, Appanius?”

  Perhaps she thought we had come from her master, to question her. But surely,

  too, our armbands should have suggested to her that our origins, and intents,

  were not indigenous to the house of Appanius.

  “No,” I said.

  “You are not slavers, are you?” she asked.

  We did not speak.

  “Please tel
l me!” she begged.

  “It is not in that modality that we have come,” I said.

  “You are members of the caste of slavers!” she said.

  “No,” I said.

  “But you are slavers!” she said.

  “Do not concern yourself with the matter,” I said.

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  The distinction, of course, is between belonging to the caster of slavers and

  being a slaver. Whereas members of the caste of slavers are slavers, not all

  slavers are members of the caste of slavers. For example, I am not of the

  slavers, but in Port Kar I am know as Bosk, and he known as many things, among

  them pirate and slaver. Too, both Marcus and myself were of the warriors, the

  scarlet caster, and as such were not above taking slaves. Such is not only

  permitted in the codes, but encouraged by them. “The slave is a joy and a

  convenience to the warrior.” Neither of us, of course, was a member of the caste

  of slavers. It, incidentally, is sometimes regarded as a subcaste of the

  merchants, and sometimes as an independent caste. It does have its own colors,

  blue and yellow, whereas those of the merchants are yellow and white, or gold

  and white.

  “Have you come to collect taxes?” she asked. “Have you come from the levies?”

  “No,” I said. Her questions were doubtless motivated by our armbands. It was not

  unknown in recent months in Ar and her vicinity for properties of various sorts,

  including such as she was, to be taken for taxes. Too, of course, there might

  have been new requisitions from Cos, or even from the camp of the pokemarkos,

  calling for new levies of women, both free and slave.

  (pg. 316)”You are not going to carry me off are you?” she asked.

  “Curiosity is not becoming in a kajira,” I said.

  “Forgive me, Master,” she said. She squirmed in agitation. It would not be

  difficult, of course, to carry her off. In a matter of moments we could have

  done so with impunity. In a matter of moments she could have been ours, gagged,

  hooded and bound. There are a great many ways in which a girl may be carried

  captive by a mounted warrior, and many saddles have been designed with the

  accommodation of such a prisoner in mind. Some of these arrangements are quite

  simple and others are complex. Perhaps the simplest is to have the girl mounted