“Knees spread,” I said.
She complied.
“The slave strip looks well, fallen between your thighs,” I said.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Your thighs are pretty,” I said.
She blushed.
“Yes,” I said, “and your belly and breasts, and the rest of you.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“Yes, you are remarkably lovely,” I said. “Yes, I think you would make a lovely slave.”
She trembled.
“What is wrong?” I asked.
“I am afraid,” she said.
“Why?” I asked.
“I do not know anything of being a slave,” she said, “should it be done to me! I know nothing of pleasing men! I do not even know the draping of tunics, the tying of slave girdles!”
“Should you become a slave,” I said, “submit yourself to your sisters in bondage, not as one who was recently a free woman but as one who is now the lowest and most ignorant of slaves, the humblest of tyros and novices. Watch them. Learn from them. Serve them. Bring them small treats which you might earn. Beg them to help you, to teach you their ways, their arts and secrets. Even such small things as the use of the tongue can make a great difference in whether you survive or not.”
She trembled.
“Reach now,” I said, “to the cord at the left side of your waist.”
“I do not even know how to strip myself before a man,” she said, in misery.
“There are a thousand ways in which it may be done,” I said.
She touched the cord. Her fingers were on it. Then she looked up at me. “How might a slave do this?” she asked.
“In one of a thousand ways,” I smiled.
She moaned.
“A typical way might be as follows,” I said. “The girl might stand or kneel before the master. She might say, ‘Your property begs to be permitted to reveal herself to you.’ Then, if the permission is granted, she does so.”
“Your property begs to be permitted to reveal herself to you,” she whispered, softly.
“But,” I said, “as you are a free woman, you are not my property.”
She regarded me.
“And so I do not grant you permission.”
“As you have denied me slavery,” she asked, “though my heart cries out for it?”
“Perhaps,” I said.
She removed her hands from the cord.
“If I were a slave,” she said, “I do not think you would treat me so leniently.”
“No,” I said. “If you were a slave, you would be treated very differently.”
“As a convenience, mercilessly?” she asked.
“If and when it pleased me,” I said.
“I am eager to so serve,” she said, “so helpless, so subdued.”
“In a collar you would learn quickly enough to do so,” I said.
“Are you angry?” she asked.
“No,” I said, angrily. The slave was so visible in her, so near the surface, that it was maddening. How it strove to emerge, and become her, totally! That she, such a woman, should still be free was an outrage to all justice and rationality. Her thigh should bear a brand! She belonged in a collar!
“Master?” she asked.
I forced myself to remember that she, fittingly or not, absurdly or not, was, at least at this moment, free.
“Master!” she pleaded.
She was not now a slave. I must accord her dignity and respect!
“Collar me!” she begged.
I seized her by the arms.
I held her.
But then, in the distance, we heard the trumpets, the horns.
“What is it?” she asked.
“It is the recall,” I said. “The assault has been terminated.”
“The city has not yet fallen,” she said.
“No,” I said.
I released her.
“Shall I build up the fire?” she asked.
“No,” I said.
I went outside the tent and scuffed some dirt over the remains of the fire and then reentered the tent, and, from the inside, tied shut the flaps.
“It is dark,” she said.
“Lie down,” I said.
I removed my belt, and tunic, and crouched beside her.
I put my hand down, into her hair, and lifted her head a bit, and turned it, in the darkness. With my other hand, I touched her neck.
“Collar me,” she begged.
It would have been easy enough to do so, there in the darkness of the tent.
“No,” I said.
I then put her back, on her back in the dirt.
“Lift your body,” I said.
She obeyed.
“Shall I free the cord?” she sobbed.
“I shall do so,” I said.
“Do not leave me tomorrow,” she begged.
“I must,” I said.
I laid aside the cord and strip. “Do not lower your body,” I said.
“It is now lifted to you, as though it were that of a slave,” she said.
I put my hand on her, gently.
“Oh!” she said, squirming.
“Excellent,” I said.
She sobbed.
“I think,” I said, “you might bring a fine price in a market.”
“A market?” she said.
“A slave market,” I said, “—one in which women are sold.”
“I see,” she said.
“You have heard of such markets, I trust.”
“Of course,” she said.
“I suppose,” I said, “you never thought of yourself as being put upon a block, being exhibited, and vended in such a place.”
“I never expected it to be the case,” she said, “but I am not unlike other women.”
“Oh?” I said.
“We have all considered such things, that, or similar things,” she said.
“And what am I to understand by that?” I asked.
“I think it is clear,” she said. “That we are your slaves.”
“Men are fortunate,” I said.
“So, too, are we,” she whispered, “—Master.”
She lifted her lips to mine.
I then put her to my purposes.
* * * *
“Do not leave me,” she begged.
“I must,” I said.
10
The Trenches;
The Wall
“Behold Klio, the free woman,” I said, whipping the sheet from her.
She was on all fours in the trench and looked up, about her, with alarm, at the men.
There was raucous laughter.
I put a leash on her neck.
“She has already made her contribution to the success of Cos,” laughed a fellow.
“But not of her own free will, I wager,” laughed another.
Klio’s head had been shaved by the keeper, or one of his men, at the Crooked Tarn. Her hair had probably brought the keeper as much as five copper tarsks. As I have indicated there was an excellent current market for female hair. It is ideal for catapult ropes.
“You have leashed me!” protested Klio, looking back at me.
There was more laughter from the men.
“Keep your head down,” one of the fellows advised me.
“There is not so much need now,” said another fellow. “They seldom fire now without a clear target.”
“Where am I?” asked Klio.
“You are within two hundred yards of Ar’s Station,” I informed her.
She trembled. This was the most advanced of the Cosian siege trenches. Even the openings to the mines, now gated, and closely guarded, were further to the rear. The only closer entrenchments were sapping trenches, partly covered with wood, leading directly toward the walls. These were used not only for attempting to undermine the walls, but also for providing cover to men advancing for assaults. The sapping trench, of course, requires much less labor on the part of the besiegers but
, too, it is less difficult to detect and stop than the mines. The mine, of course, need not stop at the wall, but can proceed within the city and when opened, pour soldiers out, behind the walls. The wall mine is usually terminated at the wall, which is then undermined but kept temporarily in place with a system of supports. Then later, concerted with an attack, these supports may be burned or, more dangerously, struck away. The coordination between the collapse of the wall and the attack can be sharpened when the supports are struck away, the same signal, say, the blast of trumpets, initiating both actions.
“Where is Elene?” asked Klio. When we had left Ephialtes this morning I had taken both Elene, from Tyros, and Klio, from Telnus, along. Elene had been the third woman of the debtor sluts. She was the only one who had been a blonde. Klio had been second at the wall.
“I sold her, a hundred yards or so back,” I said.
“What!” cried Klio.
I had redeemed her, by means of Ephialtes, at the Crooked Tarn, for thirty-five copper tarsks, the cost of her bill, but I had sold her for forty, a modest, almost irresistible price, considering the value of women here, at least prior to the city’s fall. A squad had chipped in and bought her. She would serve them all. Later they would probably play stones, or roll dice, for her. I had conveyed to the men, as though by inadvertence, that I suspected she might have little value as she had had her head shaved. I had suggested, too, I think, that I might be in need of money. As it was I made a profit on her which, when I had left the Crooked Tarn, I had never really counted upon, nor even anticipated. To me she had not been so much a property on which to make a profit as an instrumentality in my plans. Still, in her way, she was a property, and, accordingly, I was not displeased to be able not only to utilize her in my plans but also make some money on her. Her blond hair would in time grow out again and the soldiers would discover that she had an additional loveliness. Eventually I had no doubt she would bring a high price. Auburn hair is generally thought to be the most prized hair on Gor, but I myself generally prefer brunettes. This is not to deny that blondes, suitably enslaved, and desperate to please, are not without interest. Blondes sometimes bring higher prices as their hair color is rarer, but once they are home, in the collar, they are, of course, no more than any other slave. In the end, in my opinion, the crucial factor is the individual girl. Everything depends on the individual slave.
“Yes, sold,” I said, answering Klio’s look of disbelief. There was laughter from the men.
“And before I sold her,” I said, “she performed well.”
“No, please!” said Klio.
I had, as though looking for a good price first on Elene, made my way through the network of trenches toward the walls of Ar’s Station. A trench back, one of the siege trenches, I had sold her. Some of the fellows from this trench, the forward trench, had come back to watch. There had been no difficulty in moving through the trenches in my guise as a mercenary with one or two women to sell. I had followed them back, at their own behest, through one of the connecting trenches, to the lead trench. We had herded Klio before us, under the sheet, on all fours, encouraging her occasionally with a foot or the blow of the looped slave leash, not yet on her at that time.
“Did you already sell the best one?” asked one of the men.
“You might think so, or not,” I said. “I do not know. I think, from my own point of view, that I would prefer this one.”
Klio looked back at me, frightened.
“I think I would prefer this one, too,” said one of the fellows who had come back with me.
“She is a well-shaped beauty,” said one of the men.
“Sirs!” protested Klio.
“We should have the best,” said a fellow, “as we are the closest to the enemy.”
“Keep a lookout,” said one of the men to another, one standing on a low wooden platform, at the forward edge of the trench.
“I think I would prefer her, too,” said another.
“Yes,” said another.
Klio looked about. I could see she was pleased to be so approved of, in her basic elements, as a naked female, but, too, she was alarmed, having some inkling as to what might be the entailments of such preferences.
“Have her perform,” said one of the men.
I shook the slave leash, now on her. This movement was transmitted through the leather, until it jerked and snapped at the ring, on the leash collar.
“No,” said Klio, “please!”
“What?” I asked, puzzled.
“Sirs,” cried Klio, “soldiers of Cos, warriors for truth and justice, redressers of wrongs, kinsmen from across the sea, I am Lady Klio, of Telnus, of Cos! I am a free woman! I beg your kindness, your indulgence, your protection! Rescue me from this barbarian! Clothe and honor me! Return me in dignity to freedom!”
“Many of these fellows,” I said, “are not of Cos, but are mercenaries in the service of Cos.”
She looked about the faces, frightened. On many faces there was amusement.
“I am of Telnus,” said a fellow.
“I, too,” said another.
“Free me!” she cried. “I demand it!”
They smiled.
“Some of these fellows have not had a female in a long time,” I said.
“‘Had’?” she stammered.
“Yes,” I said.
These men were front-trench fighters, most of them. Probably in defense, and in support of assaults, and in assaults themselves, they had been muchly employed and risked. The siege had been long, and bitter. Those who were not of Cos, and were mercenaries, fighting only for their fees, and some loot, perhaps a female or two, and gold, would presumably not be much moved by appeals to Cosian heritages or patriotism. Their loyalties would be less to Cos than to their captains and comrades. In some cases, they might be loyal, as well, to their word, to their oaths and pledges, and, if they understood what they were marking at the recruitment tables, their contracts. And the fellows from Cos itself, and from Tyros, and their close allies, were surely by now, if they had not been before, hardened veterans, men unlikely to be swayed by the self-serving appeals of beautiful women, men accustomed to seeing such women, of whatever city, in terms of the collar and chain.
“Why are you not in Telnus?” asked a fellow.
Klio was silent, in consternation.
“She lived from men, following them and exploiting them,” I said. “She was a debtor slut. I paid her bills and thus came into her de facto ownership, through the redemption laws.”
“But he did not free me then!” she cried.
“No,” I said.
“Where did you pick her up?” asked a fellow.
“South, on the Vosk Road,” I said, “at the Crooked Tarn.”
“I know the place!” said one of the men.
“I, too,” said another.
“I was once well taken at the Crooked Tarn,” said the first man, “by a wench whose redemption cost me three silver tarsks, plus travel money, supposedly to get her back to Cos. For all this I received not so much as a kiss, she informing me that that would demean our relationship, putting it on a ‘physical’ basis. She only laughed at me, from a fee cart, moving rapidly away, with my purse, waving the redemption papers, signed for freedom, in her hand. I was a fool. Often since I have dreamed of her in my power, naked and in a collar, my slave! I would use her well! Her name was Liomache.”
I was interested to hear this. Had I known it I would have brought Liomache along. It seemed to me quite possible that the Liomache I had on the chain of Ephialtes might be the same woman. If so, she would be doubtless delighted to renew her acquaintance with the soldier. Certainly he, at any rate, would be delighted. Even if she were not the same woman, she had been making her living in the same way, and had had the same name. That might well have been enough to interest him in buying her. If she were the same woman, I did not think I would envy her, to find herself in the possession of her former dupe. She might, too, I supposed, discover that their
relationship might then have, indeed, something of a “physical” aspect. Indeed, it would then be a totalistic relationship, the most totalistic relationship possible between a man and a woman, that in which she is total slave, and he absolute master.
“This woman, in effect,” I said, “made her living in the same way as your Liomache.”
“Kill her,” said a man.
“Do not kill me, please!” said Klio.
The eyes of many of the men were hard upon her.
“She exploited men,” said a fellow.
“I will not do it again!” cried Klio.
She looked from face to face, but found little to comfort her in those countenances.
Too, besides their anger, these men were Goreans, and many of them regarded women as fit and natural slaves, and considered them in terms of the perfection of the collar. Too, many had been frustrated by free women, and free women in their own city. It was a rare fellow who did not, from time to time, regard the women of his own city as quite as suitable for collaring as those of other cities. Were they not all women? Many Goreans, for example, rejoiced in the situation in Tharna, where almost every female is a slave.
“I will not do it again!” whispered Klio.
“You may attempt to do it, as you please, in the future,” I said, “but I think you will do it within the limits of the collar.”
“Oh, please, no!” she wept.
“I have shaken the leash, once,” I said. “You did not then perform. Fortunate it was for you then that you were a free woman, and not a slave. Even so, I was not pleased. Do you understand?”
“Yes!” she said.
“Now, when I shake it again, you will perform.”
She put her head down, trembling.
“Do you understand?” I asked.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“You must remember, gentlemen,” I said, “she is only a free woman.”
I shook the leash and Lady Klio, naked, attempted to perform.
Some of the men laughed.
“Surely you can do better than that,” I said.
She sank to her stomach, in the dirt, at the bottom of the trench, weeping.
“Whip her,” said a tall fellow, watching her, with his arms folded.
She looked up at him, frightened.
His eyes suddenly glinted. I had not seen what passed between them but I suspect that he had seen in her eyes something swift, some flash of sudden fear and recognition, that she had seen him as her master.
Renegades of Gor Page 20
