by John Norman
"Let us see her!" called more than one man.
The auctioneer signaled to an attendant who, from a side of the hall, brought forth a shallow copper bowl, some two feet in diameter, filled with slender cylinders of oil-impregnated wood. In a moment, with a fire-maker, of flint and steel, he had ignited this wood. The girl looked at it. I do not think, at that time, she clearly understood its significance.
"Let us see her!" called a man.
"But, of course!" called the auctioneer. He hung the long, black kaiila quirt on his belt.
The woman looked out on the crowd, miserably. She did not understand, fully, I am sure, what was going to be done to her. She was a barbarian, her freedom only recently terminated. She spoke no Gorean. She had been brought into the hall and strung up so cruelly by the wrists only after the completion of the earlier auctions. Too, I had little doubt that her masters had kept her ignorant of their occurrence. She knew little more than the fact that she was being displayed before men, though for what reason and to what end, I conjectured, she scarcely dared speculate.
"Shall we begin?" inquired the auctioneer of the crowd. "Shall we see if she is any good?"
"Yes! Yes!" shouted more than one man. I smiled to myself. The auctioneer knew his business.
"But first," said the auctioneer, "behold the absurdity of these garments. They seem to be a cross between the garments of a free woman and those of a slave." Most obviously, from what I could see, the woman wore an attractive office dress, of a sort which is often implicitly prescribed, particularly by female executives, for subordinate female employees regarded as too feminine to be considered for the executive class. "That is very pretty, Jane. I like to see you wear things like that." "Yes, Miss Tabor." This is also a useful way, of course, for the female executive to make it clear to her male colleagues that such women, unlike themselves, are only females.
It was a long, brown, white-flecked, shirred shirtdress, of some soft, smooth synthetic material, of mid-calf length. It had small, red, round buttons securing the long, exciting frontal closure and appearing, too, at the cuffs. It also had a brown, white-flecked, matching tie belt. About her throat was a single string of pearls, doubtless simulated, or they would have been removed from her by her first captors. She wore stockings or pantyhose. On her feet were black, shiny, high-heeled dress sandals, each secured, apparently, by a single, narrow black ankle strap. The fact that she was dressed as she was led me to believe that the woman worked in business and that she had been taken by the slavers on her way home from work. I think she could forget about the office. In the future she would have other duties.
"Are these the garments of a free woman or of a slave?" asked the auctioneer.
"Of a slave," shouted men. "Remove them!"
The Goreans probably regarded them as the garments of a slave because of their smoothness and prettiness. Too, the shirred quality of the dress would permit it to move, and swirl, excitingly about her body, if she chose to move in certain ways. Too, the lower portions of her calves and her pretty ankles were revealed by the dress. That she wore slave garments was probably also suggested to them by the transparency and sheerness of the coverings on her legs and, of course, from the Gorean view, her footwear, so slight and pretty, with the black ankle straps, was such that it would be likely to be affected only by a woman begging for the collar.
"She came to us this way," said the auctioneer. "I myself have not yet seen her."
"Let us see her," called a man.
"I wonder if she is any good," said the auctioneer.
"Begin!" "Begin!" shouted men.
"Of course!" laughed the auctioneer. He then went to the suspended girl and, thrusting up the ropes on her ankles, unbuckled the narrow, ankle-encircling black straps of her high-heeled dress sandals. He drew them from her feet and held them up, together, in his right hand. "Note the straps," he said. "We are familiar with such straps, are we not?"
Several of the men laughed. They resembled the small black straps, buckled, with which one occasionally binds the wrists and ankles of slaves, before, or while, one amuses oneself with them.
He then drew the large, triangular-bladed knife from the beaded sheath on his belt and slashed the straps and uppers of the sandals, discarding them then in the flaming copper bowl at the side.
"She has pretty feet," he said. He then resheathed his dagger and, extending his hand, locked his fingers about the string of pearls on the girl's throat. She cried out as he jerked them from her neck. "She has a pretty neck, too," he said, bending her head back by the hair.
"Yes," said a man.
He then released her hair and, stepping forward, again addressed himself to the crowd. "Doubtless some Master will soon find something more suitable with which to enclose that lovely neck than a string of pearls," he speculated.
There was laughter.
"Further," said the auctioneer, lifting the pearls, "these pearls have been examined. They are false. She wore false pearls."
There was an ugly response in the crowd. Goreans have a rather primitive sense of honesty.
With a gesture of disgust the auctioneer flung the pretentious, offending object, that necklace of false pearls, amongst the cylinders flaming in the copper bowl.
"What should be her punishment?" asked the auctioneer.
"Slavery!" said several.
"She is already a slave," said the auctioneer, "though perhaps she does not yet know it."
"Let the man who buys her then pay her back," said a man, "punishing her well, and lengthily, for her fraud."
"Is that agreeable?" asked the auctioneer.
"Yes," said several.
"I am better than she is," said a feminine voice beside me. I felt my arm being gently taken. I looked down. I recalled her. I had encountered her outside the compound of Ram Seibar, before the sale. She was a barbarian slave, and a tavern girl. Her name was Ginger. "I thought you were occupied," I said. She nibbled at my sleeve. "He kept me for Ahn," she said, murmuringly, poutingly. "He made me serve him well."
"Excellent," I said.
"I am not now occupied, Master," she said.
"Do not listen to her, Master," purred a voice from my other side. "Come with me, rather, to Russell's tavern. I will make your night a delight." I looked to my left. A dark-haired girl was there. She, too, obviously, was a tavern girl, but she was garbed quite differently from Ginger. The taste or business sense of their masters, I gathered, differed. Slaves, of course, are garbed precisely as their masters please. "I, too, am a barbarian," she said. "I am Evelyn."
She wore a black, tight, off-the-shoulder bodice and a short, black, silk skirt, decorated with red thread and ruffles, and stiffened with crinoline. A black ribbon choker was placed behind the steel collar on her throat. A red ribbon, matching the decorations on her skirt, was in her hair. She had not been permitted stockings or footwear. Such things are normally denied the Gorean slave girl. Her costume, like that of Ginger, the short, fringed, beaded shirtdress of tanned skin, with the beaded anklet, intended to resemble the garb in which red masters sometimes saw fit to clothe their white female slaves, if permitting them clothing, suggested its heritage of other times and other places. Most Gorean garments, of course, of the sorts worn by humans, trace back to terrestrial antecedents. I looked at the white bosom of Evelyn, lifted, shaped and confined in the tightness of the bodice, for the interest of masters. What man, I wondered, would not wish to unlace or tear away that bodice, to subject its treasures, like the woman herself, to the ravishments of his mouth and hands.
"Pay her no attention, Master," said Ginger. "Come with me to the tavern of Randolph."
"No, with me, to the tavern of Russell," said Evelyn.
"Surely you two have sneaked in here," I said. I did not think Ram Seibar would wish girls soliciting in his hall, particularly during the course of a sale.
"The worst that would happen is that we would be whipped from the room," said Evelyn.
"But across the calves
," said Ginger. "That hurts."
"Yes," said Evelyn, shuddering. I gathered they had, more than once, been thusly sped from the hall by wrathful attendants.
"Release me!" cried the suspended girl, hanging by her wrists, before the crowd.
"No," she said, "no!" The tie belt on her dress had then been jerked loose, its ends dangling, supported by their loops, beside her hips.
"No," she said, "no, no!" But one by one, slowly, the auctioneer's knife was cutting the buttons from the long, frontal closure of her dress. "What do you want?" she cried. "What are you doing?" Then the last button had been cut away. "What do you think I am? What are you doing to me?" she cried. The sides of the dress were then brushed back.
"I do not think she is pretty," said Ginger.
"No, I do not either," said Evelyn. "You may even be prettier than she."
"I am beautiful," said Ginger. "It is you who might even, possibly, be prettier than she, my man-hungry little slave slut."
"Man hungry?" said Evelyn. "I have heard how you bite your chains, how you whine to be released at night."
"It is no secret in Kailiauk," said Ginger, "the fingernail scratches in your kennel!"
"I cannot help it if men have released my slavery," said Evelyn, tears in her eyes.
"They, too, have released my slavery," said Ginger, "and fully."
"I am more helplessly passionate than you," said Evelyn.
"No, you are not," said Ginger.
"It is well known in Kailiauk that I am a better slave than you," said Evelyn.
"I am a better slave than you," said Ginger, "Slave Slut."
"No, you are not, Slave Slut," hissed Evelyn.
"Be silent, Slave Sluts," I said.
"Yes, Master," said Ginger.
"Yes, Master," said Evelyn.
Beneath the dress the girl was wearing was a full, knee-length slip of white silk. The dress, then, by cutting with the knife, and ripping, was removed from her. It, too, was then thrown on the flames, following the dress sandals and pearls.
I saw, then, that the slip had small, over-the-shoulder straps. These were severed and then, cutting and ripping from the back, the auctioneer loosened the slip. It could now, at his least convenience, be removed from the girl. At the left knee it had a deep cocktail slit. This interested me, suggesting that the girl might have good slave potential. This slit, affording an exciting glimpse of the girl's calf and lower thigh, was, of course, drawn to the attention of the audience by the auctioneer.
I wondered why the two tavern girls, Ginger and Evelyn, had sought me out. Obviously there were many men in Kailiauk. Indeed, at this time of the evening, it seemed strange to me that they would even be absent from the tavern. Surely this was the time of the evening when they might be expected to be applying themselves to the business of making a living for their masters, performing exquisitely, chained, in their alcoves. I dismissed the matter from my mind.
"No," begged the suspended girl, "please, don't!"
The slip was then lifted away from her body.
"A silver tarsk," said a man.
"Excellent," said the auctioneer.
This seemed to me an unusually high bid for a raw, untrained barbarian slave, particularly as an opening bid. On the other hand, I had noted that girls seemed to bring high prices in Kailiauk. Several of the girls had gone from the side blocks, for example, for prices ranging between thirty and fifty copper tarsks. In certain other markets these girls, in their current state of barbarity and ignorance, might have brought as little as seven or eight tarsks apiece. These prices, of course, were a function of context and time. In Kailiauk there are many affluent fellows, rich from the trade in hide and horn, and the traffic in kaiila. Furthermore, this close to the perimeter, only a few pasangs from the Ihanke, far from the normal loci of slave raidings, and slave routes, female slaves, particularly beautiful ones, are not abundant. Accordingly men, coming in from surrounding areas, are willing to pay high to have one in their blankets.
The girl now wore a brassiere, a garter belt and stockings. Too, beneath the narrow garter belt, in what was perhaps an indication of charming reserve, I could see silken panties.
"She is not really ugly," said Ginger.
"No," said Evelyn.
The girl watched in horror as the remains of her silken slip was cast upon the flames, causing them to spring up anew. Her Earth clothing, before her very eyes, piece by piece, was being destroyed. It was thus being made clear to her that she was making a transition to a new reality. "No," she said, "please, no."
The auctioneer freed her stockings from the hooks and buttons on the four garter straps. In a moment the auctioneer had drawn the stockings from her legs, slipping them underneath the ropes on her ankles and discarding them in the flames. Then, after viewing her for a moment, he stepped behind her. He undid the two-hook back closure on the garter belt. This article of clothing, too, then, in a moment, was cast into the flames. She then hung before us clad only, save for the ribbon binding back her hair, in her brassiere and panties.
"Undo her hair!" called a man.
"Yes!" called another man.
I smiled to myself. Yes, it was the exact time for the woman's hair to be unbound. The hair of slave girls, incidentally, unless shaved or shortened as a punishment, or to be sold, often for catapult cordage, is usually worn long. There is more, cosmetically, which can be done with long hair and such hair, too, is often useful in the performance of intimate duties for her master. Too, of course, it can be balled and thrust in her mouth, for use as a gag, either, say, when one does not wish to hear her for a time, or, perhaps, if one wishes, to silence her cries in the throes of her submission spasms. Too, of course, she may be bound with it.
"Of course," said the auctioneer. He then untied the hair ribbon which had bound her red hair back so primly. He threw it in the fire. He then fluffed her hair and brought it forward, over her shoulders. He then brushed it back, behind her back, and smoothed it. He turned her on the rope, to the left and right, that men might see the cut and fall of the hair against her back. It was pretty. Then the auctioneer turned her so that she was, again, helplessly, exposed frontally to the crowd.
"She is really quite pretty," said Ginger, irritatedly.
"Yes," agreed Evelyn.
"But not as pretty as I," said Ginger.
"At least not so pretty as I," said Evelyn.
I smiled. I had little doubt the suspended girl would bring a higher price than either of them, though they both were, admittedly, obviously full and desirably luscious slaves.
"Two silver tarsks," said a man.
"Excellent," said the auctioneer.
The girl looked out on the crowd with fear and misery. Doubtless she hoped, against hope, that she had now been adequately displayed to the crowd. Surely the brutes would not dare go further. That she had been brought clothed into the hall surely argued that her dignity and pride would continue to be respected, at least to the degree that she was now concealed. Too, had the fellow attending to her not now paused in his abusive, insolent labors? But then she glanced to the side blocks. There there were women, much like herself; they, fixed in place, wearing collars and chains, she could not help but note, were absolutely naked. But she, surely, was different from them! She was finer, and more delicate. Anyone could see that! Then she hung, relieved, in the ropes. The auctioneer was conferring with an attendant, to the side. Her ordeal, as she conceived it, was now concluded. The exposure and disgrace which had been visited upon the other girls was not to be her lot. She was better. She was different.
The attendant, to whom the auctioneer had been addressing himself, took his exit.
But did the girl not know that she was not different? Did she not know that she, too, was only a slave?
"I wonder if she is beautiful," said Ginger.
"As she is now clad, it is not difficult to speculate on the matter," said Evelyn.
"Why don't they take off her clothes, so we can see," said Gi
nger.
"Yes," said Evelyn.
I smiled to myself. These girls, at any rate, understood something of the nature of a Gorean market.
"Were you a side-block girl?" asked Ginger.
"No," said Evelyn. "I was auctioned."
"I, too," said Ginger.
"Were you brought in naked?" asked Evelyn.
"Yes," said Ginger.
"I was, too," said Evelyn.
"Do you think that they think she is better than us?" asked Ginger.
"Perhaps," said Evelyn. "Men are fools."
"No!" cried the suspended girl, suddenly. "Don't! Please!"
The auctioneer was behind her.
"No!" she cried. "I am a virgin! I have never been seen by men!"
"No!" she cried.
Her breasts were lovely.
Would the last vestige of her modesty not be permitted her?
"No," she pleaded. "Please, no!"
"No!" she cried, and then hung, helpless and sobbing, in the ropes.
I saw that the stripped slave was beautiful.
"Three tarsks," said a man.
"Three five," said another. This was a bid of three silver tarsks and fifty copper tarsks. There are one hundred copper tarsks to one silver tarsk in Kailiauk. The ratio is ten to one in certain other cities and towns. The smallest Gorean coin is usually a tarsk bit, usually valued from a quarter to a tenth of a tarsk. Gorean coinage tends to vary from community to community. Certain coins, such as the silver tarsk of Tharna and the golden tarn of Ar, tend, to some extent, to standardize what otherwise might be a mercantile chaos. This same standardization, in the region of the Tamber Gulf and south, along the shore of Thassa, tends to be effected by the golden tarn of Port Kar. Coin merchants often have recourse to scales. This is sensible considering such things as the occasional debasings of coinages, usually unannounced by the communities in question, and the frequent practice of splitting and shaving coins. It is, for example, not unusual for a Gorean coin pouch to contain parts of coins as well as whole coins. Business is often conducted by notes and letters of credit. Paper currency, however, in itself, is unknown.
