Magicians of Gor

by Norman, John;

  "No," I said.

  She sobbed.

  "You did your work well, pretty little seduction slave," I said to her.

  "Please, Master!" she begged.

  "No," I said.

  "I had hoped you cared for me," he said.

  She threw back her head in anguish.

  "I had hoped you cared for me," he said. "I had never forgotten you!"

  She looked wildly at him.

  "You seemed so tender, so real, so helpless!" he said.

  "Surely, as one who has had, as I understand it, experience on the stage," I said, "you can understand such things."

  "She was responsive!" he said.

  "She had better have been," I said. "Indeed, slave girls are trained to helpless responsiveness. They can juice, for example, in a matter of Ihn."

  "She responded!" he said.

  "She is a slave," I said. "She has strong and recurrent needs. Indeed, she is the prisoner, and victim, of such needs. Why should she not have utilized you to temporarily satisfy them?"

  "Indeed," said he, bitterly, "why not?"

  "Any man would do," I said, "but you were at hand."

  "I understand," he said.

  "Master!" protested Lavinia.

  "Be silent," I said.

  "Yes, Master," she said, in misery.

  "You should not object," I said. "Certainly female slaves are often enough used for such purposes, and casually enough. It is what they are for, that and labor."

  "I am not a female slave," he said.

  "But you are a slave," I said.

  "Yes, Master," he said.

  "Surely you do not mind being utilized, and duped."

  He was silent, and stared downward, at the tiles.

  "It seems you were taken in, as easily as a snared vulo."

  "Doubtless her vengeance is satisfying," he said, softly.

  "Please, Master," wept Lavinia.

  "No," I said.

  "Well did you trick me," he said to the girl.

  She regarded him with anguish.

  "I do not blame you," he said. "It was I who, in effect, brought the cruel, burning iron to your thigh, I who in effect had you marked, who saw to it that your lovely neck would be ringed with the indisputable, locked circlet of bondage, who had you, a noble free woman, reduced to no more than meaningless goods, merchandise to be bought and sold as men might please. How you must hate me!"

  She shook her head, wildly.

  "You were well entitled to your vengeance," said he, "once a free woman of Ar, now no more through my doing than a beautiful slave."

  Tears coursed down her cheeks.

  Could he not, I wondered, see the poignancy of the slave’s expressions, her distress, her consternation?

  "But I have no regrets," said he. "Having had you, a slave, in my arms, if only for a few moments, I have experienced a joy, a delirious bliss, I did not know could exist."

  Gratitude and joy, relief, suddenly flooded the face of the lovely, collared slut.

  "Do not move," I warned her.

  I feared she would spring to her feet, rush to him, and embrace him, weeping.

  She threw me a piteous, pleading glance.

  "Do not speak," I warned her.

  "You well acted your role," said he, "for I, an enamored fool, well believed your words, your cries, that you were smitten with me, that you desired me, even that you loved me."

  The slave moaned.

  "In any event," said he, "you must do as your master commands."

  I smiled to myself. I myself, despite my remarks to the male slave, had little doubt of the genuineness of Lavinia's words, her protestations, and such. The authenticity of a slave's words and responses, of course, are attested to by numerous bodily cues, many of which they are unaware of, and cannot control. A master who is alert to these can then determine, particularly over a period of time, whether or not the slave’s words, feelings and responses are genuine or not. The alternatives accorded to the Gorean slave girl are, in effect, to become an authentic slave, or die. Interestingly this understanding, particularly on the part of a woman who has been the victim of an antibiological conditioning program, as some Earth females, can be received as a liberating and joyful revelation, permitting them then in good conscience to yield at last, as they have long wished, to their femininity. Most women, of course, including most Earth females brought to Gor as slaves, for that is the usual reason for which they are brought to Gor, do not need anything of this sort. Most are so joyful to find themselves on a natural world where their beauty, their dispositions and feelings are meaningful, that they can hardly wait to fulfill their depth nature, to be at last the women they are in their hearts, and bellies, and have always desired to be.

  "She is, of course, not hard to take," I said.

  "No, Master," he said.

  "And if you had to be seduced," I said, "surely you must not object to my using her for the purpose."

  "No, Master," he said.

  "Indeed," I said, "perhaps you commend my perception, and generosity."

  "Yes, Master," he said.

  "Now," I said, "you both belong to me."

  They looked wildly at one another.

  "And I expect, seduction slave," I said to the girl, "that he will be good for your discipline. If you are not pleasing, perhaps I will throw you to him."

  "Yes, Master!" she said. "Chain me, and throw me to him. Let him punish me! Let me be his to do with as he pleases!"

  The male slave gasped, staggered with the thought of such power over the beauty.

  "But then, on the other hand," I said, "I do not know if I would permit dalliance amongst my slaves."

  He could not but drink in the beauty of Lavinia.

  "Look away from her," I commanded.

  With a moan he averted his eyes.

  "To be sure, I might upon occasion," I said, "let you look upon one another, each chained to an opposite wall, or perhaps I might even allow you each enough chain to approach, but not touch, one another. Too, of course, I might have you chained helplessly and then have her dance naked, in her own chains, before you, thence to be dismissed to her kennel."

  He put down his head, in misery.

  "No," I said to Lavinia, reading her anguished expression. She put her palms down, again, on her thighs. Tears were upon her cheeks and breasts.

  "You noted when you saw her this morning, of course," I said, "that she was not in state garb."

  "Of course, Master," he said.

  "Nor in a state collar."

  "Yes, Master," he said.

  "Did this excite your curiosity?" I asked.

  "No, Master," he said. "As this was the morning of the putative assignation, I supposed it might be a disguise prescribed by her Mistress, that the curious, if they saw her in this neighborhood, would not be likely to link her with the Central Cylinder."

  "That was an intelligent conjecture on your part," I said.

  "And doubtless one on which Master counted," he said.

  "Yes," I said.

  "It did excite me," he said, "to see her not in the drab state garb, but in the tunic she wore, with the disrobing loop."

  "Did she drop the tunic well?" I asked.

  "Yes, Master," he said. "She is a superb seduction slave."

  Lavinia sobbed.

  The male slave looked up at me. "I am an actor," he said. "Master does not appear to be of the theater."

  "No," I said, "I am not of the theater."

  "I do not understand why master has brought these things about," he said, "why he has brought me into his possession. Of what possible use can I be to master?"

  "Perhaps I could sell you to the quarries, or into the fields," I said. "Perhaps I could take you to the Vosk, or the coast, and sell you to a captain. You might look well, chained to the bench of a galley."

  "I do not think it was for such purposes that master purchased me," he said.

  "You think you are valuable?" I asked.

  "Surely mas
ter thinks so," he said. "I heard master himself conjecture that there were free women in Ar who would pay a thousand pieces of gold for me."

  "And there are perhaps men," I said, "who would pay fifteen hundred."

  "Yes, Master," he said, putting his head down, and clenching his fists. Then he looked up. "But master did not sell me, nor offer me for sale," he said.

  "No," I said.

  "But surely I have been purchased on speculation," he said, "for resale?"

  "Do not concern yourself with the matter," I said.

  "Does master intend to keep me long in his possession?" he asked.

  "Do not concern yourself with the matter," I said.

  He looked at me.

  "Curiosity is not becoming in a kajirus," I said.

  "Yes, Master," he said. This was a play, of course, on the common Gorean saying that curiosity is not becoming in a female slave, or kajira. One of the traces of Earth influence on Gorean, incidentally, in this case, an influence from Latin, occurs in the singular and plural endings of certain expressions. For example, 'kajirus' is a common expression in Gorean for a male slave as is 'kajira' for a female slave. The plural for slaves considered together, both male and female, or for more than one male slave is 'kajiri'. The plural for female slaves is 'kajirae'.

  "Straighten your collar," I said to Lavinia.

  Instantly, embarrassed, self-consciously, she lifted her hands to her collar. Then she looked at me, for a moment puzzled. To be sure, it was almost perfect. Then, shyly, with seeming demureness, but with a slave girl's sense of self-display, she, her chin level, her back straight, her shoulders back, centered the lock, with both hands, delicately, carefully, at the back of the neck. This lifted her breasts, beautifully. "Are you looking at her?" I asked the male slave.

  "Forgive me, Master!" he said.

  "To be sure," I said, "it is hard not to look at her."

  "Yes, Master," he said, putting his head down.

  Lavinia, too, lowered her head, smiling.

  "As I mentioned earlier," I said, "you do not look well. This is doubtless because of having been well beaten. Indeed, from the marks, I suspect the staff of Appanius to have been cored with lead. I recommend you get up now and go to the alley. You may wish to heave there, once or twice. Then, return. In the back you will find water and a towel. Clean yourself. Then come back here and kneel again, as you are."

  "Yes, Master," he said, rising to his feet.

  For a moment Marcus blocked his exit, but then Marcus, with a look at me, stepped aside.

  "I should go with him," said Marcus to me.

  "No," I said.

  "Do you think he will come back?" he asked.

  "Certainly," I said. "I do not think he wishes to run naked about Ar. He is well known, and would doubtless immediately be in ropes." Nudity is often used on Gor as a uniform, so to speak, of prisoners and slaves. "Too," I said, "I doubt that he wants his throat cut."

  "Probably not," granted Marcus.

  "May I speak, Master?" asked Lavinia.

  "Yes," I said. Let her tongue now be freed. It was acceptable to me.

  "Would you do that?" she asked.

  "Yes," I said.

  She shrank back, white-faced.

  "He might try to make it to the house of Appanius," said Marcus.

  "He would be bound, and neck-roped, within two blocks," I said.

  "Suppose he makes it to the house of Appanius," he said.

  "Yes?" I said.

  "If I am not mistaken Appanius would welcome him back."

  "I think so," I said.

  "He may wish to buy him back anyway."

  "Perhaps," I said.

  "For perhaps five thousand gold pieces, or more."

  "Perhaps," I said.

  "He might hide him," said Marcus.

  "He would not be an easy slave to hide," I said. "And we have papers on him. Sooner or later I think we could get his throat to our blade."

  "Oh, Master!" wept Lavinia.

  "What is wrong with you?" I asked.

  "Let me stand surety for him!" she said.

  "I do not understand," I said.

  "If he runs, kill me, not him!" she said.

  "No," I said.

  She put down her head, weeping.

  "He is not going to run," I said.

  She looked up, red-eyed.

  "Surely you are aware," I said, "that even were it not for the impracticality of escape, he would return."

  "Master?" she asked.

  "He has a motivation," I said, "which in itself would be sufficient to bring him back."

  "What, Master?" she asked.

  "Can you not guess?" I asked.

  "No, Master!" she cried in protest.

  "Yes," I assured her.

  She put her hand to her breast. "But I am only a collared slave!" she said.

  "And they are the most beautiful and exciting of all women," I said. "Wars have been fought for them."

  She gasped. "He is so beautiful!" she wept.

  "He is a reasonably handsome fellow, I grant you," I said.

  "He is the most beautiful man in all Ar!" she said.

  "Surely you do not think him as handsome as I?" I asked.

  She looked at me, startled.

  "Well?" I asked.

  "Master jests," she said.

  "Oh?" I said, not altogether pleased.

  "Apparently Master wishes to beat his slave," she said, uncertainly.

  "Why?" I asked.

  "If I tell the truth," she said, "it seems I shall displease my master and be beaten, and if I should not tell the truth, it seems I must lie to my master, and then, a lying slave girl, be beaten, or worse!"

  "You think he is more handsome than I?" I asked.

  "Yes, Master," she said. "Forgive me, Master!"

  "But not more handsome than I?" inquired Marcus.

  "Yes, Master," she said. "Forgive me, Master."

  "What does a slave girl know?" I said.

  "True," agreed Marcus.

  "Surely many women of Ar would agree!" she said.

  "You are a meaningless and lowly slave," I said. "Be silent."

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  "Besides," I said, "what do they know?"

  "They are women," she said. "Surely they are entitled to form an opinion on the matter."

  "Perhaps," I said, begrudgingly.

  "Surely you believe that men are entitled to form an opinion on the beauty of women," she said.

  "Of course," I said. "And it is important that we do so. In many cases, we must buy and sell them."

  "But then," she said, "if men may form opinions on the beauty of women, so, too, surely, women may form opinions as to the handsomeness, or beauty, of men."

  "Very well," I said. "Your point is granted."

  "Thank you, Master," she said.

  "But your opinion, even if it might be shared by some others, is still only the opinion of a lowly and meaningless slave."

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  "And it is thus of no significance," I said.

  "Yes, Master," she said. "Master," she said.

  "Yes," I said.

  "Do not think poorly of Milo," she begged.

  "I do not think poorly of him," I told her.

  "Did you not see his "Lurius of Jad"?" asked Marcus.

  "I thought it was rather good," I said.

  "It was terrible," he said.

  "You are just not an enthusiast for Lurius of Jad," I said. "Besides, you are angry that Phoebe liked it."

  "Your friend, Boots, would not have liked it," he said.

  "Probably because his Telitsia would have liked it," I said.

  "Do not be jealous of Milo, if he is more handsome than you," said Lavinia.

  "Very well," I said, "—if he is."

  "Excellent," she said. "If he is more handsome than you, then you will not be jealous of him, and if he is not more handsome than you, then, as there would be no need, you will not be jealous of
him."

  "Of course," I granted her. The logic here seemed impeccable. Why, then, was I not better satisfied? Whereas intelligence in a slave is commonly prized on Gor, it is not always without its drawbacks.

  "Am I to be whipped?" she asked, suddenly.

  "No," I said.

  "Thank you, Master," she said.

  "At least not at the moment," I said.

  "Thank you, Master," she said.

  "It is nothing," I said.

  "Do not fret, Masters," she said. "Even if you are not Milos, you are both strong, handsome, attractive men. Too, there is something different and special in you, something distinguishing you from many other men. It is the mastery. Women sense in men such as you, or can come suddenly to sense in men such as you, sometimes to their terror, their masters, and this makes you unbelievably exciting and attractive to them. This puts you beyond compare with other men. Women then wish to kneel before you and serve you, to please you and love you. And that has nothing to do with the regularity or smoothness of one's features, which may characterize even weaklings."

  "All men are masters," I said.

  "I do not know," she said. "But that is what the woman desires, her master."

  "Why were you on the couch when I entered the room?" I asked.

  "He put me there," she said.

  "Very well," I said. One might have expected her to have been put on the floor, on furs, at the foot of the couch, as she was a slave.

  "The slave is returning," said Marcus.

  "Of course," I said.

  Lavinia gasped with relief. I recalled that she had been ready to die for him. Too, I recalled he had, to the best of his ability, attempted to shelter her from the blows of the irate Appanius. These things I found of interest. To be sure, I did not think I would encourage dalliance amongst my slaves. It might be interesting, of course, to keep them within sight of one another but in anguished separation.

  In a few moments Milo had washed in the back and returned to kneel in the front room.

  "Put your head down and extend your left wrist," I said to him.

  He did so, and I locked a silver slave bracelet, resembling the one he had previously worn, on his left wrist. On this bracelet, in fine, tiny lettering, were the words "I belong to Tarl of Port Kar."

  I then threw him a common tunic, one of the things I had brought with me. "Put it on," I told him.

  "Yes, Master," he said.

  "What time do you think it to be?" I asked Marcus.