by John Norman
"They are very pleased," I said to Grunt.
"I think so," he said.
We watched the Dust Legs mounting up now, most of them, both men and women, preparing to take their leave. Ulla and Lenna were now on their feet, their hands still tied behind their backs, their neck thongs tied to the high, decorative pommels of their masters' saddles. Their masters regarded them. They then slapped the girls' naked flanks with possessive pleasure, as though they might have been kaiila. They then climbed to their saddles, leaving the girls afoot, naked, neck-thonged, near their stirrups. The girls looked up at their masters with fear and then, as the kaiila moved, hurried along beside the lofty animals, the grass to their thighs. I had little doubt but what they would soon be taught their duties, both those outside the lodge and those within it. I then saw Margaret, looking wildly over her shoulder, being drawn along, by the thong on her wrists, at the side of her own master's beast. She, too, would doubtless soon receive instruction on the modalities of pleasure and service to be exacted by a red master of a female slave, and one who was merely white.
We watched the Dust Legs moving away, across the grasses.
"It was a good trading," I said.
"I think so," said Grunt. "We were all, I think, well satisfied."
"Do you think the two fellows with Ulla and Lenna are sufficiently pleased?" I asked. "You did, it seems, maneuver them to some extent."
"I do not think they minded being maneuvered," he said. "Did you not see how they struck the girls on their flanks, so possessively, so pridefully, so good-naturedly? They are more than enough pleased to have such girls on their tethers, to lead them home, to add them in with their kaiila and other stock."
"You are right," I said.
"Take this one to the stream," he said, indicating the dark-haired girl we had acquired for the three hatchets, she lying on the grass near us, "and see that she has a bath."
"I will," I said. "What are you going to do?"
"We will make camp here," he said.
"Here?" I asked.
"There is water nearby," he said, "and wood."
"You are going to stay for a time at the trading point?" I asked. This puzzled me. This was the last trading point in the territory of the Dust Legs. It did not seem to me likely that more Dust Legs were to be expected, certainly not for some time. I myself was anxious to move eastward.
"For tonight," he said.
"We could make five pasangs before dark," I said.
"We will camp here tonight," he said.
"Very well," I said.
He went over to the girl lying in the grass. "Womnaka, Amomona," he said. "Womnaka, Wicincala."
"Ho, Itancanka. Ho, Wicayuhe," she said.
"She speaks Dust Leg," he said. "She then will also be conversant with Kaiila. These are two closely related languages, or, better, two dialects of a single language. Fleer is also related to them, but more remotely."
"She responded to your commands earlier," I said. "She must know Gorean, too."
"Do you speak Gorean?" he asked. She might, after all, know only certain commands, much as might a sleen.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"I shall attend to the camp," said Grunt, looking about. "See that she has a bath at the stream."
"All right," I said.
"Do not hurry with her," he said. "There is no hurry in returning."
"All right," I said. Grunt was looking about, scanning the surrounding grasslands. Then he went to the coffle, where Ginger was waiting. He would free certain of the girls and set them about their duties. We would make camp, it seemed, early this day.
I looked down at the girl at my feet. She looked up at me. I kicked her. She winced. "On your hands and knees," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
I indicated to her the direction of the stream.
"Yes, Master," she said.
She would crawl to it. She was a slave.
* * * *
"You whipped me well," she smiled, kneeling in the shallow stream, pouring water on her body.
"You whip well," I commended her.
"Thank you, Master," she said.
The sexually responsive woman whips well. This is probably a function of the high degree of her skin sensitivity and the depth and vulnerability of her feelings. Her sensitivity and responsiveness make her peculiarly helpless under the lash. She who writhes best under the lash, so say the Goreans, writhes best in the furs.
"The water," I said, "has wrought quite a transformation in you." She was now, substantially, cleaned. Most of the dust and blood, the grime, the dirt and sweat, had been washed away. Her dark hair, wet now, seemed very dark, very shiny. She knelt in the water, removing tangles and snarls from her hair.
"No longer, at least," she said, "am I womnaka."
"What is that?" I asked.
"Master does not speak Dust Leg or Kaiila?" she asked.
"No," I said.
"It is something which exudes much odor," she laughed.
"What did Grunt, who is your master, the fellow in the broad-brimmed hat, call you?" I asked.
"'Wicincala'," she said, "which means 'Girl', and 'Amomona', which means 'Baby' or 'Doll'."
"I see," I said. I myself prefer the application of such expressions not to slaves, but to pretentious free women, to remind them that they, in spite of their freedom, are only women. They are useful, by the way, in making a free woman uneasy, their use suggesting to her that perhaps the male is considering shortly enslaving her. In speaking to a slave I prefer expressions such as 'Slave' or 'Slave Girl', or the girl's name itself, she understanding clearly, of course, that it is only a slave name. "And what did you call him?" I asked.
"'Wicayuhe', 'Itancanka'," she said, "words which mean 'Master'."
"I thought so," I said.
I sat on the bank, watching her work with her hair. She was now combing it out, with her fingers. She would not yet be entitled, of course, to use the common brush and comb allotted for the use of the coffle. The other girls, unless the masters intervened, would vote on whether or not she was to be granted its use. This is a way of encouraging a new girl to be congenial and to participate equitably in the work. One negative vote will keep the brush and comb from a new girl. The suspension of brush-and-comb privileges is also used, upon occasion, by the first girls as a disciplinary measure, within the coffle. Other disciplinary measures practiced among girls themselves involve such things as bonds, the control of rations and switchings. Girls, thus, under the control of first girls, reporting to the masters, commonly keep a good order among themselves. All, of course, including the first girls, are in all things subject, ultimately, to the total authority of the master.
"Ginger!" I called.
Ginger, in a moment, came running to the stream.
"Bring the comb and brush," I told her.
"Yes, Master," she said. Her authority, as that of any slave, could be overruled by any free person.
In a few moments Ginger returned with the comb and brush. "Give her the comb," I said. I, myself, took the brush, which I placed beside me. Ginger waded into the stream and gave the comb to the new girl. "You do not yet have general comb-and-brush privileges," she informed her. "Unless, of course, the masters order it," she added.
This addition, I did not doubt, was in virtue of my presence. Ginger would not relish being switched across the back of the thighs.
"Yes, Mistress," said the new girl, bowing her head to her.
Ginger returned to the bank and, somewhat mollified, turned to regard the new girl, who was now combing her hair with the comb of kailiauk horn.
"She is rather pretty," said Ginger.
"I think so," I said. She was slim, and beautifully shaped.
"She might be worth four hides," said Ginger.
"Perhaps," I said. Ginger then took her leave.
I regarded the girl. She was looking at me, slowly combing her hair.
"Thank you for permitting me the use of the com
b and, perhaps later, the brush," she said.
"It is my pleasure," I informed her, truthfully.
I regarded her. She was quite beautiful, and her beauty was a thousand times more exciting than that of a free woman, for she was a slave.
"Master examines me with candor," she said, shyly.
"You are a slave," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said. One might, in the case of a free woman, in deference to her modesty or dignity, avert one's gaze from her beauty. This consideration, of course, is seldom, if ever, accorded to a slave. One may examine her slowly and with care, and with attention to detail, and, if one feels she deserves it, with open and unconcealed admiration. It is not unusual for a Gorean male, who tends to be uninhibited in such matters, to clap his hands, or strike his thigh, or shout with pleasure, upon seeing a bared slave. These responses, which might be thought embarrassing or inappropriate in the case of a free woman, may fittingly be accorded, of course, to slaves, who are only lovely animals. Even in the case of free women, the Gorean male, incidentally, disdains to feign disinterest in female beauty. He, for better or for worse, has not been made a victim of the glandular suppression and life-shortening psychosexual reductionism inflicted, in varying degrees, on so many males in more pathological cultures. His civilization has not been purchased at the price of his manhood. His culture has not been designed to deny nature, but, startlingly perhaps, to some minds, to fulfill it.
She continued to comb her hair. She turned her head to the side, slowly drawing the comb through it. "Do I detect," she asked, "that Master may not find a slave fully displeasing?"
"No," I said. "I do not find you fully displeasing."
"A slave is pleased," she said.
I smiled.
"Do you think I might be worth four hides?" she asked.
"Whether you are or not might easily be determined," I said.
"Of course, Master," she laughed. "I am a slave."
"You now look quite different from what you did when you were purchased," I told her.
"It is difficult to remain fresh and presentable," she said, "when run through brush at the side of a kaiila, a thong on one's throat."
I nodded.
"I trust," she said, "that I shall not be so served in this camp."
"You, and the others," I said, "will be treated precisely as we please, in all things."
"Yes, Master," she said, quickly. She stopped combing her hair.
"Continue to groom yourself, Slave," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"What was your name among the Dust Legs?" I asked.
"Wasnapohdi," she said.
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"Pimples," she said.
"You do not have any pimples," I said.
"Master may have noticed that my thighs are not marked," she said.
"Yes," I said.
"I am not one of those girls from the towns, who has been branded," she said. "Oh, do not fear," she laughed, "that we are not well understood as slaves. In the camps, and among the tribes, our red masters keep women such as I in our collars, to remove one of which without permission is death."
I nodded.
"And, too," she said, "what could a white woman in the Barrens be but a slave?"
"True," I said.
"We are thus, in our way, well marked," she said.
"Yes," I said.
"I was born Waniyanpi, in one of the Waniyanpi enclosures of the Kailiauk," she said, "the product of a forced mating, between parents unknown even to themselves, parents selected and matched by the red masters, parents who, even though they were Sames, were forced to perform the Ugly Act, hooded and under whips, on the day of Waniyanpi breeding."
"There is much here I do not understand," I said. "What are Waniyanpi? Who are the Kailiauk?"
"Many of the tribes permit small agricultural communities to exist within their domains," she said. "The individuals in these communities are bound to the soil and owned collectively by the tribes within whose lands they are permitted to live. They grow produce for their masters, such as wagmeza and wagmu, maize, or corn, and such things as pumpkins and squash. They are also to furnish labor when required and may be drawn upon, at the whim of their masters, for individual slaves. When one is taken from the enclosure one ceases to be Waniyanpi and becomes a common slave, an ordinary slave, one owned by an individual master. Usually daughters are taken, for the red masters find them pleasing as slaves, but sometimes, too, young men are taken. The word 'Waniyanpi' itself means literally 'tame cattle'. It is an expression applied to the collectively owned slaves in these tiny agricultural communities. The Kailiauk is a tribe federated with the Kaiila. They speak closely related dialects."
"Do the parents come from within the same community?" I asked.
"No," she said. "For the day of breeding the men, hooded and in coffle, are marched between the small communities. On the day of breeding they are led to the selected women, already hooded, tied and awaiting them. The breeding takes place in the wagmeza fields, under the eyes of the masters."
"You spoke of an Ugly Act?" I said. I did not like the sound of that. It reminded me of a distant and sick world, the world of tittering, of embarrassment and dirty jokes. How much more honest are the whips and collars of Gor.
"The Sames," she said, "disapprove of all sexual relations between human beings, and particularly between those of different sexes, as being demeaning and dangerous."
"I can see where some might regard sexual relations between partners of opposite sexes as being demeaning for the woman," I said, "for in such relations she is often handled, owned and put in her place, but, on the other hand, if she belongs in her place, and it is her natural destiny to be owned and handled, it is not clear, ultimately, how this sort of thing can be demeaning for her. Rather, it seems it would be fully appropriate. Indeed, treating her in any other way, ultimately, would seem to be far more demeaning. But how can such relations be regarded as dangerous?"
"They are not regarded as being dangerous to health," she said, "but as being dangerous to the Teaching."
"What is the Teaching?" I asked.
"That men and women are the same," she said. "That is the central tenet of the Waniyanpi."
"Do they believe it?" I asked.
"They pretend to," she said. "I do not know if they really believe it or not."
"They believe men and women are the same," I marveled.
"Except," she smiled, "that women are regarded as somewhat superior."
"Their beliefs then," I said, "seem not only to be obviously false but actually inconsistent."
"Before the Teaching one must surrender one's reason," she said. "To scrutinize it is a crime. To question it is blasphemy."
"It lies, I suppose," I said, "at the roots of Waniyanpi society."
"Yes," she said. "Without it Waniyanpi society would collapse."
"So?" I said.
"They do not take the disintegration of their society as lightly as you do," she smiled. "Too, you must understand the utility of such a view. It constitutes an excellent philosophy for slaves."
"I am not even sure of that," I said.
"It, at least," she said, "gives men an excuse not to be men."
"That seems true," I granted her.
"It helps them to remain Waniyanpi," she said. "They are thus less likely to attract the attention, or excite the anger, of their red masters."
"I understand," I said. "I think I also understand why, in such a society, the women are regarded as somewhat superior, as you put it."
"It is only that they are implicitly regarded as superior," she said. "Explicitly, of course, all subscribe to the thesis of sameness."
"But why are the women regarded, implicitly, as superior?" I asked.
"Because of the contempt felt for the men," she said, "who will not assert their natural rights. Also, if men refuse the mastery, someone must assume it."
"Yes," I said.
"Ther
e are always masters," she said, "whether one pretends it is not so, or not."
"In the hands of women," I said, "the mastery becomes an empty mockery."
"Mockery has no choice but to assert itself," she said, "when reality is forsworn."
I was silent.
"The Waniyanpi communities are sources of great amusement to the red masters," she said.
