by John Norman
They would come to long for the chain, and the caress.
Even to beg for it.
“And she is only a slave,” I said.
“Of course,” said Astrinax.
“Then,” said I, “I would steal the candy. Who would not?”
“Many,” said Menon, regretfully.
“I think she will do very nicely,” said Astrinax.
“I fear so,” said Menon.
“Master?” I said, uneasily.
“Eventually,” said Menon, “you will have to grow more moral.”
“Master?” I said.
“You are a slave,” said Menon. “One expects a greater morality from a slave than a free woman.”
“Because they are afraid of being beaten?” I asked.
“Perhaps,” he said.
“But, Master,” I said, “is the testimony of slaves in courts not taken under torture, that they will not dare to lie?”
“It would be better,” said Menon, “for the testimony of free women to be taken under torture, for they are famous for saying whatever pleases them.”
“Under torture,” said Astrinax, “one speaks not to say the truth, but to say whatever will stop the pain.”
“I am disappointed in you, Allison,” said Menon.
“Forgive me, Master,” I said.
“She is a barbarian,” Astrinax reminded Menon.
“True,” said Menon.
“I am pleased to hear your response to my question,” said Astrinax.
“A slave is pleased if Master is pleased,” I said.
Surely a girl is entitled to look out for herself, avail herself of opportunities, improve her place, take advantage of things, and so on.
“I think you are a clever slave,” said Astrinax.
“Thank you, Master,” I said.
“Though perhaps not intelligent,” he said.
“Master?” I said.
“But clever, surely,” he said.
“Thank you, Master,” I said.
I wished he had said ‘intelligent’. ‘Clever’ had a suggestion of pettiness, of cunning, of smallness about it.
“And pretty,” he said.
“Thank you, Master,” I said.
“A pretty slave, and a clever one,” he said.
“Thank you, Master,” I said. I was not sure I had been complimented. Was I not intelligent, was I not beautiful, at least amongst women of Earth, if not compared to Gorean collar girls?
But is the word ‘clever’ not a mere disparagement, on the part of some, of true intelligence, that which is expedient, and prudentially wise, that by means of which one may pursue one’s best interests with the least regard to extraneous impediments, principles, codes, rules, and such?
I was annoyed.
I knew myself to be quite intelligent. The girls in the sorority had not been selected merely on the basis of appearance, carriage, dressing smartly, being economically well stationed, and so on. We were selected, at least in part, to enhance the reputation of the sorority, as an established avenue to wealth and power. Membership, this presenting us as rare prizes in marital competitions, above lesser advantaged girls, much increased the likelihood of our obtaining an enviable match.
“On your former world,” said Astrinax, “one supposes you were adept in certain familiar female practices, commonly associated with free women, for example, that you were skilled in flattering males, in teasing them, manipulating them, playing on their feelings, raising their hopes, encouraging them to pursuits in your interest, or perhaps in the interest of your superiors, inducing them to certain activities, by glances, smiles, words, and such.”
“Perhaps, Master,” I said.
I had enjoyed such games, sometimes for gain, sometimes for sport. It was easy to find gratification in my effect on males, boys, and men.
Then, of course, I was not a vulnerable slave, owned, subject to discipline, and such.
Then I was free. I was not in a collar.
What one did then one might not dare in a collar.
“Do you think you could engage in such activities now,” asked Astrinax.
“I do not understand, Master,” I said. I did not want to be lashed.
“Could you smile upon men, bring them drinks, brush against them, be at their side, smile, laugh, pretend to share their anxieties, their joys, their disappointments, and keep them engaged in certain activities?”
“Master?” I said.
“Could you lie, if commanded, pretend interest where interest was not felt, simulate affection where none exists, use your beauty, for you now have beauty, yes, beauty, such as it is, to whisper, wheedle, stimulate, instigate, and influence men, even to their ruin, collapse, or destitution?”
“I do not think I understand Master,” I said.
“Astrinax,” said Menon, “is seeking slaves for a gambling house. It is one of several on the Street of Chance. In such a house, there are commonly slaves, beautiful slaves, to wait upon the men, to serve drinks and food, to contribute to the decor and pleasantness of the setting, to mingle with the patrons, to encourage betting, even to the point of recklessness.”
“I see,” I said.
“In the beginning,” he said, “you would be a lesser slave, though not hard to look upon, and might assist the other girls.”
“Yes, Master,” I said. I was pleased, at least, to learn that I was not hard to look upon. Perhaps in such a place I might attract a man and win for myself a private master. I could make my choice judiciously, finding a fellow both handsome and strong, and, in such a place, quite possibly one of wealth. A girl has ways of course, of influencing a fellow to think of buying her.
It was lonely in my chains, at night. Sometime I clutched them, hurting my hands, in frustration, those metal fastenings on me so fixedly, and thrashed on my mat.
“I think I know the house,” said Menon to Astrinax. “If it is the one I think it is, it is rumored to be dishonest.”
“If so,” smiled Astrinax, “I think our little Allison might fit in quite nicely.”
I remembered my response to the question about the candy.
“Doubtless,” said Menon.
I feared I had disappointed my master.
“You understand the sort of thing we have in mind, do you not, Allison?” asked Astrinax.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“Do you think you could well fulfill your duties in such a place?”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“I thought so,” he said.
“Slaves, there,” said Menon, “exist to loosen the strings on pouches, urge fellows to shower gold on the tables, to risk much, beyond reason, to pout and look away if there is evidence of hesitation or circumspection, to cry out in pleasure if an extra tarn disk is put in the plate, another card drawn, another flash of dice cast.”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
I did not see that that was my concern.
“Some will ply them with drink,” he said, “and bring them food, to keep them at the tables.”
“I understand,” I said.
“You may be expected to do such things,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“And,” said Astrinax, “you would be expected to do such things well, with an appearance of delight and enthusiasm. Do you think you could manage that?”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
In such a place might one not secure a suitable master, perhaps even one rich, though, to be sure, I would hope to be his only slave.
“The price agreed,” said Astrinax, “as I recall, was a silver tarsk.”
I looked up, startled.
I had originally sold for forty-two copper tarsks.
“The price, now,” said Menon, rising, looking down on me, “is fifty, fifty copper tarsks.”
“Oh?” said Astrinax, smiling.
“She is not worth a silver tarsk,” said Menon.
I knelt between them while the tarsks were counted out.
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When the transaction had been completed, I dared to look up at Menon. “It is a shame,” said Menon, looking down upon me, “that the slavers consider little more than intelligence, beauty, and helpless, latent passion. Perhaps they should concern themselves more with the character of their prey.”
“Master?” I said.
“Women such as you,” he said, “belong beneath the whip.”
“Please do not whip me, Master,” I said.
“Take her away,” said Menon.
Astrinax stood up, and, from his pouch, he cast me a bit of purple cloth. There was not much to it. It had writing on the back, which I could not read. It barely covered me.
“Stand up, my dear,” said Astrinax.
I did so, hip turned, as I had been taught.
Astrinax regarded me, appraisingly. And I think he was satisfied.
“Come along,” said Astrinax, holding open the swinging panel, which led from the office.
“I wish you well, Master,” I said to Menon.
“Get out,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said, and hurried after Astrinax, sobbing, my eyes filled with tears.
But, I thought, too, I am out of the kitchen, away from the tables. Too, I had little doubt I would be fetching in the sort of tunic I now wore. The angry glance of a free woman, outside the office, reassured me of this.
I felt so superior to her in that moment.
She was only a free woman. I was a slave, half clad, collared, shapely, desirable, ownable, the sort of woman men want, the sort of woman they prize, and buy.
I was a thousand times more than she.
I might be less than the dirt beneath her sandals, but I was a thousand times more than she.
It is no wonder they hate us so, and we fear them so.
How special it was to be a slave, and how right it was for me!
It was what I was, and should be.
If one is a slave, why should one not be a slave?
Chapter Nine
The cages, of heavy, cable-like woven wire, are made for tarsks, not kajirae. One cannot stand in them. They are long, narrow, and low. Thus, more than one can be placed on a sideless, flat-bedded wagon, roped in place. Too, like the common slave cages designed for kajirae, they may be stacked.
I hooked my fingers in the wire, and looked out, frightened, from my knees. The Tarsk Market has its name, obviously enough, I suppose, because it is a general market for tarsks. Certainly the smell of tarsk was all about. And there was little doubt, from the condition of the cage, that the previous occupants of the cage had been tarsks.
Needless to say, it is only low slaves who are vended from such a market.
I lay down in the cage, on my right side, in the straw, facing the back wall of the warehouse.
How vulnerable we were, as slaves!
But, had we been free women I did not doubt but what we would have been abandoned, left in the house, on the Street of Chance, to perish in the flames.
The marks on our thighs, our collars, had saved us. We had been saved, but as what we were, only that, animals.
“That one,” said a voice, a woman’s voice. I did not place the accent. It did not sound pleasant.
“That one?” asked a man.
“Yes,” said the woman’s voice. “I would see her.”
I felt a stick poke me. “Turn about,” said the man’s voice. “On all fours!”
I turned about, and went to all fours, my head down, frightened. I would have a bruise on my back.
My hopes of obtaining a handsome, rich master, from amongst the clients of the gambling house, had perished, as had the house, in the furious, vengeful fire, set by guardsmen.
No one with money would buy here, I suspected, not in such a place, not in such a market.
I had no doubt I smelled, of the straw, and the dung of tarsks.
Too, it was a woman’s voice.
“Let us see her,” said the woman.
I heard the gate at the end of the long, low cage unfastened. “Out,” said the man. “Stay on all fours.”
I made my way to the end of the cage, and emerged, out, onto the stained, straw-strewn floor.
I kept my head lowered.
“She must be cheap,” said the woman.
“She is, they all are,” said the man. “We had the lot for next to nothing.”
“Twenty tarsks,” said the woman.
“Surely not,” said the man.
“No more,” said the woman.
“She is not bad slave meat,” said the man. “Shall I put her in examination position?”
There are various examination positions, but the most common is to stand the slave with her feet widely spread, and her hands clasped behind the back of her neck, or the back of her head. The spreading of the feet makes movement difficult, and the position of the hands keeps them out of the way as the slave is examined. They shall not interfere, nor will there be an impediment to the buyer’s vision as the slave is considered. This position also lifts the slave’s breasts nicely. Too, the girl is expected to stand erect, her shoulders back, which also accentuates the breasts, and her belly is to be sucked in, this calling attention to the width of her love cradle, the narrowness of a pleasant, trim waist, and the lovely flare of her body, as it rises to the beauty of her bosom. She may be handled rather as the buyer pleases, must open her mouth upon request, that her teeth may be examined, and so on. Sometimes the slave cries out startled, or in misery, for she may be tested for sturdiness of body, for firmness, for responsiveness, and such.
“No,” said the woman.
“Shall I have her on her back or belly, and have her squirm for you?” asked the man.
“No,” said the woman.
I hoped that the woman might be a slave, buying for a master. I turned my head a little, and my heart sank. I saw no bared ankle, perhaps encircled with a locked ring, nor some loops of binding fiber, suitable for binding a girl, but the hem of a robe, a rich, scarlet robe, and glimpsed the toes of small slippers, yellow, beneath that hem.
It was a free woman!
“What do you want her for?” asked the man.
“Work,” said the woman. “Is it true that slaves are lazy?”
I thought that a strange question for a Gorean free woman. Was she a stranger, from some unusual city, away from civilization, unfamiliar with some sorts of animals, ones such as I?
“They had better not be,” said the man. “Too, the switch, the whip, encourages diligence.”
It suddenly occurred to me that the woman, seemingly unfamiliar with such obvious things, might not be Gorean. Certainly I was unfamiliar with the accent. Perhaps she might buy me and free me?
Then I realized how foolish was such a thought.
I was on Gor.
“Twenty tarsks,” said the woman.
“Not enough,” said the man.
“Show me something else, cheaper,” said the woman.
“There is nothing cheaper,” said the man. “She is the cheapest.”
“Twenty,” said the woman.
“Forty,” said the man.
“What was she?” asked the woman.
“A gambling-house girl,” said the man.
“What is that?” asked the woman.
“A serving slave, a display slave, a lure slave, such things,” he said. “They encourage men to drink, to eat, to spend, to wager, to linger at the tables, to draw further cards, to cast the dice just one last time, and such.”
“The gambling,” she said, “is not then done with lives, those of men and animals.”
“Not in any obvious sense,” said the man.
“I see,” she said. And it sounded as though she dismissed the bouts of the spinning wheel, the shaken box, the buying of chances, the drawing of cards. The blood shed in such games is largely unseen, doubtless, but, I fear, it is there.
I did know that men bet on tarn races, which could be dangerous at the rings, sometimes a body broken, a limb lost,
a wing torn away, and that some cared for arena sports, sword games. Tharlarion races were regularly held at Venna, and other towns. Sometimes, interestingly, fortunes were wagered on kaissa matches.
“I suppose,” said the woman, “that a gambling-house girl, one purchased for such a work, would be likely to be of interest to men.”
“Very much so,” said the man.
“Good,” said the woman. “Such a slave upon occasion might prove useful.”
I did not understand what she meant.
If she were buying for a brothel, or tavern, it did not seem she would be here, in this market.
“Surely,” said the man. “I could let her go for fifty tarsks.”
“Fifteen,” said the woman.
“Forty-five,” said the man.
“Actually,” said the woman, “I would prefer a barbarian.”
“She is a barbarian!” said the man. “Bring a lamp!” he called.
I was pulled to my knees, and my left arm was seized, and held up. “The barbarian scarring,” said the man, indicating my upper left arm. “Many barbarians are so marked, not all.” Then he put his hand in my hair, and yanked my head up, and back. “Get your mouth open,” he said, “widely, more, more!” I closed my eyes against the light of the lamp, so close to me, held by his fellow. I felt its warmth. My mouth hurt, held so. “See?” said the man.
“I do not understand,” said the woman.
“The teeth,” he said.
“I see,” she said.
“They are in lovely condition,” he said.
“No,” she said, “the two specks, there and there.”
“Of course,” said the man, “many barbarians have such things, not all. It is one way of recognizing the barbarian.”
“What are they?” she asked.
“I do not know,” he said. “Some think they are a decoration, a thing of vanity, like a beauty mark, to call attention by contrast to the exquisite beauty of what is not blemished, others consider them an identificatory device, a subtle one, by means of which a slave may be recognized.”
