Renegades of Gor

by Norman, John;

  I supposed that, eventually, both Publia and Claudia would be vended in Cosian slave markets,

  As slaves they would have no Home Stones, nor native land, no more than a tarsk or kaiila.

  They would live for their masters.

  Doubtless it would give an extra pleasure to the master to realize that his new chattel was once a woman of the enemy, now helplessly his. But, in time, doubtless the couple, as is the way of such things, would become simply master and slave. Who cares for long whence a kaiila was obtained? And why, after a time, does the kaiila care from whence she was obtained? She knows now that she has a new reality, and that she belongs to the master.

  She knows that she is now merely another lovely domestic animal, one loving her master, and grateful to be owned by him. Now she fears only that he will tire of her and sell her.

  But then she will only wear a new collar.

  “Do you have on board facilities for slaves?” inquired Aemilianus.

  “Below decks,” said Calliodorus, “we have some slave cages.”

  “Excellent,” said Aemilianus. Then he addressed the slaves. “You may perform obeisance before masters,” he said.

  Both the girls then bent forward and, putting the palms of their hands on the deck, lowered their heads to the boards.

  Women are property, and they look well so before their masters.

  Aemilianus then nodded to Calliodorus. It was a small gesture. It indicated that he, at least at that time, had no further interest in the two women.

  “Take them below decks,” said Calliodorus to one of his men. “Cage them.”

  “Clothing?” asked the man.

  “May I speak, Master?” said Publia.

  “Yes,” said Calliodorus.

  “May we lift our heads, Master?” asked Publia.

  “Yes,” said Calliodorus.

  Publia and Claudia looked up, pleadingly.

  “What is it?” asked Calliodorus.

  “We beg clothing,” said Publia. “Be it only a camisk or slave strip!”

  “Perhaps you would like veils, and robes of concealment,” said Calliodorus.

  “We dare not veil our features, Master,” said Publia, “for we are slaves.”

  The faces of slaves are to be kept bared. This is in accord with their status as domestic animals, and, too, it enables their slightest, most fleeting expressions to be read by their masters. Too, of course, it is pleasant to look upon the beauty of a woman’s bared features, particularly when she understand clearly that she is not permitted to conceal them. Many Earth girls who never gave a thought to veiling on their native world become quite sensitive to it when brought to Gor. On Gor, as slaves, not permitted the veil, they often, early in their bondage, long for veiling, not only because of the now-invidious comparison between their own bared features and those of modestly veiled free women, the differences in dignity, prestige, and such, but because they are overwhelmingly and dismayingly aware of the lustful pleasure with which their delicate, feminine features, so different from those of a man, are regarded by Gorean males. Little on Earth has prepared them to be so looked upon by men, so forthrightly, so unabashedly, so honestly, as females, as desirable females, as creatures of considerable sexual interest. This is a new and at first frightening experience for many of them. Why are the men of Gor so different from the men of Earth? Why are they not diffident, not apologetic? Why do they not turn their eyes aside, lest they cause the smallest modicum of unease to the fair? Why do they not pretend not to notice? Why are they not like the typical man of Earth? But soon, as they become accustomed to the values and ways of what was formerly perceived as an alien culture, and they begin to see it as it is, as a zestful, complex, colorful, natural, and vital way of life, excitingly, grandly, and gloriously so, and they discover themselves become beautifully ingredient within it, indispensably and thrillingly so, find themselves now esteemed and profoundly savored, find themselves now valued, praised, prized, and sought, doubtless for the first time in their lives, they begin to relish the absence of the veil. They come to understand themselves at last as what they are, as what can no longer be denied, as living, desirable females, as sexual creatures, and that they are, perhaps for the first time in their lives, as such, of great interest and importance.

  Indeed, they are found so desirable that they are put in collars.

  “Robes of concealment, then?” inquired Calliodorus.

  “Oh, no, Master!” exclaimed Publia. “Certainly not, for we are slaves!”

  The slave, as might be supposed, is forbidden to wear the garmenture of the free woman, unless ordered to do so by an appropriate authority, usually the master. He may wish to require this of her as a joke or a humiliation, or as an aspect of some stratagem, or such. Perhaps he wishes to take her to a song drama, but does not want to distress free women who might be offended at her presence. Sometimes slaves so clad are used as decoys, as in supposedly rich caravans, actually manned by guardsmen disguised as merchants, hoping to lure in bandits, or as substitutes for free women, as when it is thought important to divert pursuits or disguise the whereabouts or movements of free women, such things. But Publia’s concern was well warranted. Not only is the slave not entitled to the garmenture of the free woman, but it is forbidden to her. In some cities it is a capital offense for her to so clothe herself without permission.

  The very thought of donning the garments of a free woman can cause terror to a slave.

  Such garments, you see, are not for her; she is a slave.

  “What, then?” inquired Calliodorus. “Perhaps a yellow ribbon, bound twice about your left ankle, threaded through the ring of a slave bell?”

  Some slaves are belled. This is not unusual in paga taverns. Some masters enjoy belling their slaves. The sound of the bell, or bells, reminds the slave that she is owned. These tiny, sensuous, lovely sounds tend to be sexually stimulating, as well, to both the master and the slave. It is pleasant, as you may imagine, to use a belled slave in the furs. Sound, you see, as well as vision, touch and scent, even taste, may contribute to the profound pleasures of the furs, of the mastery.

  Too, of course, it is not unusual for domestic animals to be belled.

  “Surely not that, or only that,” said Publia, “if only in deference to our dignity, our modesty, and our recent freedom, for we both recently were free, Master.”

  “Deference, modesty, dignity?” asked Calliodorus.

  “Not that we are entitled to such things, of course,” said Publia, hastily, “but they might, in a master’s indulgence, or thoughtfulness, be accorded to even such as we.”

  “To slaves?” said he.

  “If a master should so please,” said Publia.

  This was true, of course. Such things are up to the master. The master might, I suppose, should he wish, invite a tarsk to supper or garment a kaiila.

  “What would you have in mind?” inquired Calliodorus.

  “Tunics, Master,” said Publia.

  Claudia nodded vigorously. She had the good sense not to speak, as she had not requested permission to do so.

  It is not pleasant to be switched, or lashed.

  Perhaps a word might be said about tunics. These are frequently worn by Gorean men, but seldom if ever by Gorean free women, at least publicly, though, I suppose, they might be worn in segregated baths or gymnasiums. Indeed, there is not much difference between a tunic and a short robe, save in the closures. Speaking of tunics for men, there are, as would be expected, many varieties, intended for, say, streetwear, lounging about, work, dress, receiving, and so on. Robes of various sorts, however, are usually regarded as more dignified, and are common in the plazas, marketplaces, and such. Female slaves, however, unlike free women, commonly appear in tunics, both indoors and out of doors. It is the usual garb of the female slave; these tunics are usually sleeveless and short. Depending on the city, the master’s preferences, and such, they may appear in a great variety of colors, materials, textures, and cuts. They are us
ually loosely draped, and many have disrobing loops at the left shoulder, convenient for the right-handed master. The tunics are usually not only brief but fetching, and are clearly designed to call attention to, enhance, and exhibit the lineaments of the slave.

  Masters enjoy looking upon their slaves, and the tunics do not much to interfere with these perusals.

  It is my understanding that young free women, in playing ball and such, say, with their friends in private courts, segregated gymnasiums, and such, may wear light, white tunics, of modest cuts and lengths. These are, one understands, ideal for exercise. Rumor has it they much enjoy being so clad. It is doubtless a relief to be freed from the cumbersome envelopments of the prescribed, ponderous robes of concealment. Slavers sometimes attempt to raid such places. I have seen more than one young woman chained in a slave market wearing the remains of such a costume, then considerably rent and apparently much shortened.

  At one time, some years ago, many of the slave tunics of Gor were diagonally striped. Such tunics are seldom seen now, except on the stage in period dramas. They are now generally regarded as dated, as being old-fashioned. Styles change; fashions mutate. Even when that pattern was common, of course, it was not really necessary to identify a slave. The brevity of the tunic itself would be sufficient for that purpose, let alone the collar locked about the beauty’s neck. If in doubt one could always hold the girl and lift the tunic’s hem at the left side, the most common brand site being the left thigh, just below the hip.

  As I have mentioned the stage it would be remiss of me not to observe that free women are not allowed on the Gorean stage, because of its public and shamefully exhibitory nature. Accordingly, the parts of free women in Gorean dramas, even the song dramas, are always played by slaves. Gorean actresses, as actresses most anywhere, I suppose, tend to be beautiful, and, at least on Gor, many of them are quite talented. Competitive impresarios will bid high for a talented actress.

  “Tunics?” mused Calliodorus.

  Claudia squirmed on her knees.

  “Girl?” said Calliodorus.

  For a moment it seemed Claudia was not certain that she had been addressed. Was she not a woman? Then she realized that she was no longer entitled to that epithet, so dignified, so formal and exalted an appellation. With her embondment she had become a girl, a girl, with all the humiliating reduction in status so signified, but, too, now, she was subject as well to all the suggestions of extreme vulnerability, and of nubility, readiness, beauty, freshness, and sexual desirability, which that term connoted. A slaver would not be asked, for example, how many women he would put on a block that night but how many girls, or not how many women he had on his chain, but how many girls, and so on. Even a captured ubara put up for sale would hear his call to the effect, perhaps to her fury, “How much am I offered for this girl?” Slaves, of course, soon become accustomed to being referred to as, and thinking of themselves as, girls. There is nothing chronological in this, of course; it is a cognomen merely of status, a cultural, sociological matter. Too, they soon become proud to think of themselves as girls, in the sense of exciting, beautiful, needful, mastered slaves, for in this status they realize they are being recognized as, and praised as, of a worth and interest far above that accorded to the inhibited, suppressed, cumbersomely clad free women, whom they often think of among themselves as being little more than bulky, bundled-up, sexually inert tharlarion, with the usual confusions, hostilities and neuroses of the female without a master. In short, whereas the term ‘girl’ has diverse connotations, most tend to be highly complimentary, at least in the Gorean sense, as suggesting a female well worth hunting down, or capturing, or buying and owning.

  Many a free woman, it is rumored, in her loneliness, and unhappiness, envies such “girls.”

  Many, it is rumored, had they their heart’s intent, would be such.

  Why else would they wander the high bridges at night, why else would they take passage in small caravans, why else would they embark upon dangerous voyages?

  Many is the veil which has inadvertently slipped in public places, to be hastily and with obvious embarrassment readjusted and repinned.

  “May I speak, Master?” begged Claudia. She was diffident, she was frightened. Her voice stuttered a little. She was not used to addressing free men as what she now was—as a slave.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Please attend to the plea of my sister slave,” begged Claudia. “We have been recently free. Please give us clothing, Master!”

  “Yes, Master!” begged Publia.

  Calliodorus turned his attention to Publia.

  “Perhaps, then,” he said, “tunics would be appropriate?”

  “Oh, yes, Master!” breathed Publia.

  “Yes, Master!” said Claudia.

  “And what sort of tunics had you in mind?” inquired Calliodorus.

  “I suppose,” said Publia, “as we are slaves, slave tunics, of a sort, would please masters.”

  “Presumably,” said he.

  Publia and Claudia exchanged troubled glances.

  “But perhaps, Master,” said Publia, “as we have been recently free, our modesty to some extent might be considered.”

  “Perhaps,” said Calliodorus.

  I thought the girls were becoming somewhat bold. But they had not, even Publia, had long to accustom themselves to their condition. Did they not understand that they were slaves, and before one such as Calliodorus?

  Something of the free woman, it seemed, was left in them.

  It would be removed.

  I doubted that even a girl of Earth, awakening on Gor, nude, a chain on her neck, fastening her to a ring, would have been so bold. Would not such a girl have understood, from her situation and environment, and the bootlike sandals before her, that her most secret fantasies might be soon enacted upon her, with all the reality of a locked collar, with all the factuality of a slave whip pressed to her soft lips, to be licked and kissed with pleading deference.

  And she thinks to herself, in her native tongue, in English, or German, or Japanese, or whatever it may be, not yet knowing a word of Gorean, kneeling trembling, naked, chained, before a male, as she fearfully performs this tender, beautiful act of obeisance, “Please do not whip me, Master. I will endeavor to be pleasing to you.”

  “A suitable tunic then, Master,” said Publia, “one opaque, one of heavy material, and not soft, sheer and clinging.”

  “Not of slave silk?” he said.

  “Certainly not, Master!” said Publia.

  Claudia shuddered, at her side.

  “You do not wish to be so displayed?”

  “Certainly not, Master.”

  Normally slave silk would be worn in the home, or by paga slaves, or brothel slaves. It is lovely, sheer, soft, clinging, and often diaphanous. It is hard to keep one’s hands off a slave so clad. From this material, too, is often fashioned the swirling delights with which taverners, and such, are wont to bedeck their dancing slaves.

  Some free women, I supposed, had never even seen slave silk.

  It is said that the very feel of it on a woman’s body can turn a woman into a slave.

  Sometimes a new capture is put in it, and must serve as a slave, obediently, but untouched, say, humbly, silently serving wine, viands, and such, to be later put nearby, where, kneeling, she will wait in deferential attendance, perhaps behind lovely, beaded curtains, through which she may be summoned, or perhaps she will be put kneeling to one side, unobtrusively, rather out of sight, neglected, unnoticed, even forgotten, on deep-piled, colorful, rich rugs, or such, yet conveniently available should the masters desire aught. Usually by the third evening she begs the collar, and lash.

  “A bulky material would be best,” said Publia.

  “Too, Master,” put in Claudia, “let it not be slashed or open, and let it have sleeves, and a nether closure, and a suitable length, surely below the knees, perhaps to the ankles.”

  Sometimes a slave tunic is slashed at the hem, to reveal
a flash of thigh as the girl moves. Indeed, sometimes it is cut in such a way as to exhibit her brand. Too, many slave tunics are slashed in such a way as to accentuate the loveliness of the girl’s breasts. Too, it might be noted that few slave garments have a nether closure; two obvious exceptions to this are the Turian camisk and the curla and chatka, or cord and strip, of the Wagon Peoples. The curla and chatka, of course, because of the nature of the knot, may be removed with as little as a brief tugging on the curla, or cord. The absence of the nether closure in most slave garments is presumably to excite the girl and increase her sense of vulnerability, and to assure her convenience to the touch and utilization of the master. With respect to length, few slave tunics extend below the knees, or to the ankles. They are usually quite short, and within them the girl learns to move carefully, crouching down to retrieve fallen objects, for example, rather than bending over. The usual lack of sleeves in slave garments is presumably to reveal more of the slave, and it also attests to the Gorean’s recognition of the soft beauty of a woman’s arms. Goreans tend to find women excruciatingly beautiful, and that is doubtless why they put collars on them and own them. I wonder if the men of Earth, or many of them, can understand that, that a man may want a woman so much that he will be satisfied with nothing less than owning her, literally. How many men of Earth, I wonder, can understand such lust, and passion. Some, I suppose. And I wonder how many women of Earth can even begin to understand what it might be to be so lusted for, to be so desired. Several, perhaps.

  “One thing more, Master,” said Publia. “The tunic must not have a disrobing loop!”

  “No, Master!” agreed Claudia.

  This was a reference to a loop at the left shoulder of some slave tunics. The tunic, short, loosely draped, flowing, is fastened by a single, soft, narrow strap at the left shoulder, opportunely situated for the right-handed master, which strap, given the nature of the knot, may be undone with a casual tug, this dropping the garment to the slave’s ankles. Whereas this arrangement is convenient for the master it is no less convenient for others. It is a common game or prank of mischievous young rowdies on the streets or in the marketplaces to suddenly, unexpectedly, tug the knot free. Needless to say this can be discomfiting to any slave, but it is particularly discomfiting to a slave who may be on an errand, a message tube tied about her neck, and her hands strapped together behind her back. Many slave tunics are held by straps at the shoulders or a neck loop, because this bares the shoulders of the girl. Needless to say, it is not unpleasant to look upon those exposed, associated, sweet, delicious softnesses and curvatures, so different from the blunt contours of the male. Most tunics, however, though sleeveless, rather much cover the shoulders and upper body. In this sense they are relatively modest. This is particularly the case with street tunics. But even so I assure you that the sight of a girl in even so modest a tunic is such as may be expected to intrude upon one’s dreams.