Renegades of Gor

by Norman, John;

  What virile male does not wish to have absolute power over a beautiful woman, to own her, to have her in his collar?

  On Gor he may do so.

  “So,” said Calliodorus, “you would consider accepting, say, opaque, lengthy, modest tunics?”

  “Yes,” said Claudia.

  “If it should please masters, of course,” said Publia.

  “Yes!” agreed Claudia.

  “If it should please masters?” said Calliodorus.

  “Certainly,” said Publia. “We are helpless slaves. We are well aware that such things are at the discretion of masters.”

  Both would well know that. Indeed, Gorean free women of affluence, and sometimes even those with relatively modest means, might have, depending on the market conditions and the cheapness of the girls, one or more female serving slaves. These latter girls would be clothed, if clothed, at the whim of, and according to the caprices of, their mistresses. Interestingly, such girls often try to call themselves to the attention of men, hoping for an offer to be made for them. They are often well lashed for that. Sometimes a guard, in his kindness, will give them a man’s worn sandal, that they may conceal it in their kennel and at night, in secrecy, in their sorrow and need, press it to their cheek, and kiss it, and shed tears upon it.

  “We trust, of course,” said Claudia, “in the thoughtfulness and benevolence, the kindness, of master.”

  “Yes, Master,” said Publia.

  I wonder if some readers, if readers there should ever be, for a manuscript of this nature, perhaps so unlikely or problematic, have well followed these exchanges. Perhaps they will seem strange, even incomprehensible, to readers unfamiliar with certain aspects of the culture in question. One cannot suppose, of course, that just any who chance upon these passages, should such be the case, will understand the institutions and practices involved. Some may know little, if anything, of the world of Gor, particularly of her high cities. Some may know nothing of them.

  Accordingly, accepting the measured risk of some intrusiveness, I will append here, as it seems appropriate, rather than in a footnote, a few words by way of sociological amplification.

  In this matter I crave the patience, if not indulgence, of the informed reader, he to whom the ways of Gor are as well known as those of his own world and milieu.

  He need only grant that many are unfamiliar with these matters.

  Many have never even heard of Gor, and many who have heard of her do not realize she exists.

  This is, it seems, as the Priest-Kings will have it.

  I do not dispute their wisdom, nor did I, would my dissent be availing.

  As the slave is an animal, she is either clothed, or not, as the master pleases. She is no more entitled to clothing than a dog or cat would be, on Earth. She is, of course, commonly clothed on Gor, as clothes can enhance the beauty of a woman, and give the master something to remove, as he might please. Publicly, of course, the distinctive nature of slavewear, in its various sorts, proclaims her bond. Accordingly such a garmenture has its identificatory, as well as its aesthetic, aspects; in its way it is rather like the brand and collar. On Gor status and condition are important. One would not wish to make a mistake in such matters. Obviously one relates to free persons and slaves in very different ways. One would not expect a free woman to request permission to speak or to kneel before you, but one would expect such things of a female slave. Perhaps to some extent, too, such garmenture, in its lovely degradation, protects the slave from the fury of free women—is the slut not already sufficiently exposed and shamed, but why do they bear their beauty with such defiant and brazen pride? What right have they to be so content, so radiant, in their degrading collars?—and, too, in its display, it supposedly makes the slave the more likely target of roving tarnsmen, itinerant slavers, brigands, and such, much more so than her heavily garmented free sister. Such a predator, in the case of the slave, has a good idea of the quality of his quarry, before he gets his rope on her. Few men care to risk their lives to take a woman who, disrobed and unveiled, may prove to be worthy at best of no more than a kettle-and-mat sale. To be sure, more than one kettle-and-mat girl has blossomed in bondage, and become a dream of delight to her presumably impecunious master. Indeed, some of the happiest of slaves seem to be those who find themselves in what most might deem a humble bondage at best. Much depends on the particular master and slave. Sometimes it seems the beauty of a slave is visible to few but the master, perhaps only to those who, thoughtful and discerning, have the eyes to see it. Too, as women commonly desire clothing, particularly when in public, and given the master’s options with respect to their clothing, most slaves strive to be pleasing, lest they be publicly exhibited, perhaps fastened nude in slave yokes and driven about the city by children with switches. This is apparently particularly unpleasant, it seems, to be seen so not only by contemptuous free women but by other slaves, as well, who will ridicule and jeer them. The slave girl’s protection and champion is the master, who stands between her and others, particularly between her and free women; he is the shield behind which she hopes to be sheltered, nurtured, and loved, a shield without which she, a slave, would be vulnerable not only to abuse and cruelty, but even physical jeopardy. The slave has always depended on lustful, virile males for her protection, and, indeed, often for her very life. The males, of course, exact their dues in such matters, for lengthy and delicious compensations in such matters are in order; there is always much that one can do to a slave, and have from her.

  One of the joys of a slave in her master’s arms is that he is permitting her to please him, though she is only a slave.

  But then she is put through ecstasies that obliterate in storms of passion all but his conquest of her, ecstasies in which she can scarcely think and can do little but cry out and feel, turbulences impossible to the free woman, scarcely endurable raptures that enforce upon her the understanding that she wears a slave collar.

  “Master?” said Publia.

  “Master?” said Claudia.

  “Take them below decks,” said Calliodorus. “Cage them—naked.”

  “Master!” cried Publia.

  “Master!” protested Claudia.

  “Your permission to speak is over,” said Calliodorus.

  Both girls must then be silent.

  Publia bit her lip, but did not speak. Tears brimmed in Claudia’s eyes, but she, too, was silent. Women are marvelously and intensely social, and love to speak. They are gifted and eloquent. It is a portion of their biological wealth. Speaking is something they do beautifully. Richly are they endowed with the métier of language. Is it not with their voice and tongue, as well as their beauty, that they have softened hearts and won velvet victories, have built bridges and roads between hearts, indeed, have swayed armies and launched fleets? Certainly their tenderness and lyricism, the arrows of their eyes and the engines of their tongues, have won a thousand fields and overcome a thousand cities. How hard it is to withstand the lovely dangers of their discourse! Have not countless thousands fallen victim to the toils of their cleverly cast nets? What cunning she-sleen they are! How skilled they are with so subtle, surprising and keen a weapon! There is a Gorean saying to the effect that a larl in one’s house is less to be feared than a woman’s tongue. To be sure, the woman in question is a free woman. But all female slaves, save those bred for bondage, in a way that not all women are bred for bondage, it being ingredient in their biological nature and destiny, were once free. Accordingly the female slave, just as her free sister, is undeniably possessed of that same superb device of woman for winning her way, her subtle, skilled and lively tongue. Next to her beauty, and perhaps her tears, is it not her most effective and dangerous weapon? And when its use is denied to her she is, for most practical purposes, helpless, totally at one’s mercy. She has been, in effect, stripped and disarmed. Denied the use of speech she is as though naked and bound. Conceive of her frustration, and her sense of helplessness! And vulnerability! How now shall she fare? Few thing
s more impress upon her that she is his slave than this restriction of her speech. She may not speak without permission, and she may be silenced with a word of gesture. In this can she not feel the chain of his domination of her? She hopes to be permitted to speak. Will he permit it? Surely she hopes so. She tries to be pleasing. Will he permit it? It is up to him. He is her master.

  While acknowledging the occasional frustration, even anguish, which may afflict the slave subject to these strictures, one must recognize what is most important here, that they constitute a modality of her delicious and desired domination, not unlike the whip or chain. This is the sort of thing, the dependency and vulnerability, the requirement of obedience, the necessity of petition, and such, which can heat the thighs of a slave. Too, the slave recognizes the legitimacy and appropriateness of the stricture, and its role in her bondage. No slave should be permitted to speak simply if and when she pleases. That would be absurd. That sort of thing is a privilege, and it is not for the slave, but for free women.

  The slave longs for male domination, and responds to it beautifully, in devotion, inventiveness, appearance, service and passion. And this control of her speech, as few things else, reassures her that her subjugation is, as she wishes it, actual and complete.

  The fellow spoken to, standing behind and rather between the two girls took them each by an arm, Claudia by her right arm, and Publia by her left, and pulled them to their feet. Then, turning them and thrusting them forward, without relinquishing his hold on their arms, he conducted them ahead of him, toward a hatch.

  “The cages,” apologized Calliodorus, “are individual cages, and rather tiny. They are, in effect, punishment cages.”

  “No matter,” said Aemilianus.

  “But, of course,” said Calliodorus, “it is probably best for them to begin to learn quickly that they are slaves.”

  “Certainly,” said Aemilianus.

  “Doubtless in the morning they will be willing and eager to leave the cages, under any conditions,” said Calliodorus.

  “Excellent,” smiled Aemilianus.

  “I would recommend, however,” said Calliodorus, “that the one called Publia be taken from the cage for a time this evening, to be given a good hiding at the mast.”

  “Of course,” said Aemilianus.

  It was only fitting, after all, that she be punished, and well. She had attempted to take advantage of the fact that she had not yet been branded and collared. She had attempted to pass herself off as a free woman. In many cities, such a thing is a capital offense. Here, however, in accord with a fortune much greater than she would be likely to realize for a few days, she, a naive young slave, and guilty of what, in effect, was a first offense, was only to be whipped. Still, even so, I did not think she would be likely to forget her little bout this evening with the leather. For one thing, few slave girls forget their first whipping. Too, if nothing else it would impress upon her that she was a slave and that masters would think nothing of punishing her if she was not pleasing. That is a good thing for a girl to learn. I supposed, too, that it might have an effect in discouraging her, should the opportunity arise, as I did not think it would, from seeking to implement another deceit with respect to her status in the immediate future. Later, of course, as she began to understand what it was to be a slave girl, as she began to grasp something of the nature of her condition, and its categoricality, she would hastily, and fearfully, on her own, reject such thoughts. She would not dare to countenance them. She might find herself trembling in terror if even the smallest and most casual of such thoughts chanced to enter her mind.

  I saw the fellow who had conducted the slaves to the hold emerge through the hatch and close it, after him. I supposed the slaves were in their cages. Calliodorus, too, seemed to note the reappearance of the fellow.

  “The former Lady Claudia and I were cellmates,” I said to Calliodorus. “I determined at that time that she, though then free, would make an excellent slave.”

  “Good,” said Calliodorus. “Does she juice quickly?”

  “She has learned to do so,” I said.

  “Good,” he said. “What of slave spasms?”

  “She is improving,” I said.

  “Good,” he said. Slaves, of course, are not only trained in a broad spectrum of sexual arts, such as how to kiss and caress, and such, but much attention is given, too, to their own responsiveness and pleasure. There is nothing surprising about this. Their responsiveness and pleasure puts them far more in the master’s power. Too, as might be imagined, it is very pleasant for a man to see the marvelous changes and effects which he can induce in a woman, for example, to have her thrashing helplessly at his touch, crying out her submission, begging for more. The slave, because of her training, her emotional freedom, thousands of times greater than that of a free woman, the discipline she is under, and such, can attain orgasm much more quickly than a free woman, sometimes, particularly if she has been deprived for a time, almost immediately. A response which might take a free woman a third to a half of an Ahn to attain a slave, and not an unusual slave, might attain in three or four Ehn. Beyond this the slave is often forced to endure lengthy, multiple orgasms, sometimes being carried by the will of the master for Ahn, whether she wills it or not, from one peak to another. Some slave rapes, peremptory and imperious, last no more than a few Ihn, the woman receiving as little attention as a she-tarsk from a rutting boar, but others, and perhaps in their way no less peremptory and imperious, may last as long as an afternoon and an evening.

  “She served Cosians, and declared for them,” I said to Calliodorus. “Do you think that might put her in good stead with Cosians, should she come into their keeping, as that is what seems to be in store for her, at least in the near future?”

  “In what way?” asked Calliodorus.

  “That they might then see fit to reward her with her freedom,” I said.

  “No,” said Calliodorus. “She is now a slave. That changes everything. Even if she had once been a Cosian girl, even of Telnus, of good family and high caste, she would still, now, be a slave, and only a slave. Too, Cosians, I assure you, are not overly fond of traitresses. One who is willing to betray her own Home Stone would presumably not hesitate to betray someone else’s. Indeed, I would not have been surprised, had she surrendered herself at Ar’s Station, claiming immunity, or such, that she would have quickly found herself, if, indeed, she were not slain, in the lowest of slaveries, as would seem fitting for her.”

  “I see,” I said. It was, of course, as I had supposed it would be.

  “Her slavery, thus,” he said, “will presumably be either simple, and uncompromised, or excessively cruel, and uncompromised.”

  I nodded.

  “But inasmuch as the crimes of the free woman are seldom held against the slave, for the slave is only an animal, and has her own concerns, and fears, such as whether or not she is sufficiently pleasing, and so on, I would expect it to be simple, and uncompromised.”

  “I think you are probably right,” I said. Many theorists regard reduction to slavery as wiping the slate clean, so to speak. The woman is then thought, in effect, to be beginning life anew, but now as a mere property, a mere animal. To be sure, her past status and deeds do remain a part of her history, even if she is now only an animal. Thus, at least for a time, a master might relish the consideration that his abject slave was once perhaps a haughty free woman, or such. But, in time, it is likely that their relationship, mercifully, as such things fade into the past and tend to be forgotten, will become a simpler one, that merely of master and slave.

  “In my uses of the former Lady Claudia, in the cell,” I said, “I sometimes gave her the use name of ‘Chloe’.”

  “A Cosian name,” observed Calliodorus.

  “She had declared for Cos,” I reminded him.

  “Did the use name help her to dissociate herself from the proprieties which she might have thought appropriate to a Lady Claudia?” he asked.

  “I think it helped,” I
said. Certainly a woman’s sexual relationship to a man is often improved when she begins to think of herself as having a quite different relationship to him than the one in which she has been accustomed to think of herself. The change of name can help in this matter. No woman, of course, takes her former name into slavery. In her reduction to bondage she loses that name. Even if the same name, in one sense, should be put on her as a slave, it is not the same name in the crucial sense; it is not now a legal name to which one has title in one’s own right. It is a slave name.

  In this sense, the name ‘Claudia’ as the name of a free woman is a quite different name from the name ‘Claudia’ as the name of a slave. The slave name, for example, can be changed at a master’s whim. This loss of the old name, incidentally, and the susceptibility to being named, and the new name, if the master decides to give her a name, and such, although they are simple, legal consequences of the nature of reduction to bondage, are also, I think, psychologically useful in helping her understand that she is now a slave, and that she is now radically and absolutely different from what she was. Too, I think that such things, a new name, for example, showing her that she is now in a new reality, and so on, can help her make the transition more smoothly into bondage.