Magicians of Gor

by Norman, John;

  She let him hold the wine for a time, and then, reaching out, she took the glass.

  He kept his head down, and put his hands, palms down, on his thighs.

  She lifted the glass to her lips. She took no more, it seemed, than the tiniest of sips.

  "Replace the glass," she said. "Then return and kneel as you are now."

  She was standing before the couch.

  She watched him, in the mirror, replace the glass on the tiny table.

  In a moment then he had returned to kneel before her.

  "You are the idol of thousands of women in Ar," she said, "but it is my beauty which has conquered you."

  He was silent.

  Lavinia looked up at me, red-eyed.

  "It is my beauty to which you have succumbed," she said.

  He was silent.

  "It is I before whom you kneel," said the Ubara.

  He did not respond.

  "You look well there," she said, "on your knees, before me."

  He was silent.

  "That is where men belong," she said, "on their knees, before women."

  He kept his head down, and did not respond.

  "You may look up," she said.

  She turned about then and went to the couch. She stood there for a moment, beside it, regarding him.

  Then, with a graceful movement, she removed the white, silken, sliplike garment, letting it fall about her ankles.

  "Ai!" said the male slave, softly.

  She then, swiftly, with a smooth, silken movement, ascended the couch and lay curled upon it, near its foot, watching him.

  "Mistress!" he said.

  "Do not dare to rise to your feet without permission, slave," she said.

  "Yes, Mistress," he said.

  She laughed, softly.

  He looked away.

  "Do you have the needs of a male?" she asked.

  "Yes!" he said.

  "Sometimes female slaves," she said, "after their slave fires have been ignited, after the poor things have begun to learn their collar, after they have become sexually helpless, are deprived of sexual experience," she said. "Did you know that?"

  "I have heard so," he said. "Perhaps as a cruelty, to teach them the master's power or that they are slaves, or as a punishment, or to ready them for a successful performance on the block, such things."

  "Are such things done with male slaves?" she asked.

  "Perhaps," he said.

  She laughed.

  He did not look at her.

  "Look at me," she commanded.

  "At least upon occasion," he said.

  She laughed again, merrily.

  This was true, incidentally. Tauntings, it might be mentioned, are usually involved in such denials. On the other hand, male slaves have much the better of it, in my opinion, in these matters. Sexual gratification is seldom denied to them for long periods. They, like male sleen, tend to become not only restless and aggressive, but dangerous. Accordingly, it is common to see that they are permitted to periodically access a female, almost invariably a slave. No such provision, on the other hand, is prescribed for the female slave. She, as her needfulness increases within her, as she becomes more lonely and miserable, more desperate, is left muchly on her own, to wheedle and beg, and such. To be sure, most female slaves enjoy an enormous amount of sexual experience. This is largely because they are beautiful and exciting, and slaves.

  "You may rise, handsome slave," said she, amused.

  "Yes, Mistress," he said.

  "But stay where you are," she added.

  "Yes, Mistress," he said.

  She lay on her side, watching him. "You are indeed a handsome brute," she said.

  "Thank you, Mistress," he said.

  She then lay on her back, toward the foot of the couch, and stretched, luxuriantly, indolently, before him, savoring the feeling of the fur, the delight of her own movement. She looked upward, lazily. She did not detect the net, of course, as she was not looking for it, and it was recessed in the structure of the ceiling, the ceiling having been designed for its concealment.

  She had the palms of her hands facing upward, at her sides. Her left knee was lifted.

  I thought she would look well in a collar.

  She moaned, softly.

  She turned her head to the side, toward him. "Sometimes I feel," she said, "as I think a slave must feel."

  The net, concealed, was above her.

  He made as though to step toward her.

  "Do not approach!" she warned him.

  He stood still.

  She laughed, and rose, facing him, to her hands and knees, on the couch. She then backed away from him, toward the center of the couch. In this way, unwittingly, she positioned herself under the center of the net. To be sure, it had been designed to cover the entire couch.

  "You may approach," she said. "No nearer!" she said.

  He then stood near the foot of the couch.

  "It seems Mistress has come to this room to torture a poor slave," he said.

  She then slipped to her left side, propping herself up with her left elbow, and, her knees drawn up, regarded him.

  "Poor Milo," she said, sympathetically.

  He was silent.

  "There are slave rings on the couch," she said. "Perhaps I shall chain you to one of them."

  "As Mistress pleases," he said.

  "What woman of Ar would not desire you as her conquest," she mused.

  He was silent.

  "And you are mine," she said. "Conquered by my beauty."

  He was silent.

  "You have told me," she said, "that you have the needs of a male."

  "Yes, Mistress," he said.

  "Is it true?" she asked.

  "Yes, Mistress," he said.

  "I am Ubara," she said.

  "Yes, Mistress," he said.

  "But I am also a female," she said, "and I have a female's needs."

  "Mistress?" he asked.

  "Yes, Milo," she said. "It is true."

  He looked down.

  "Happily, of course, they are not those of a female slave," she said. "That, fortunately, has never been done to me."

  "Yes, Mistress," he said.

  In her last words her voice had almost broken. In them was betrayed a seething half-suspected emotional sea. In the Ubara, it seemed, might be latent depths on the shores of which she stood frightened, and in awe. In her, it seemed, might be revelations, discoveries, and enforcements that in her state of inert freedom could scarcely be conjectured. And well might she have feared such things. How helpless she might be, if she found herself in their chains. The slave girl is the helpless prisoner of her sexuality.

  "Surely you understand the purport of my words," she said, angrily.

  "Surely I dare not explicitly conjecture," he said.

  "Why do you think I have come here?" she asked.

  "To torture a poor slave, it seems," he said.

  "That I could do in the Central Cylinder," she said.

  "What more could there be?" he asked.

  "Can you not guess?" she said.

  "Mistress is free, and Ubara," he said.

  "Look upon me," she commanded. "What do you see?" she asked.

  "The Ubara of Ar," he said.

  "And a female?"

  "Yes, Mistress," he said.

  "You are a man," she said. "When you arranged this meeting, surely you must have had hopes."

  He put down his head.

  "And you, shameful, arrogant slave, have presumed far above your station. I should have you boiled in oil!"

  He kept his head down.

  "But I am prepared to be merciful," she said.

  "Mistress?" he asked, looking up.

  "I am prepared to extend to you the extraordinary and inestimable privilege," she said, "of entering upon the same couch with me."

  He looked at her.

  "Yes," she said.

  "I am unworthy!" he said.

  "Are the collared sluts dragg
ed by the hair to their masters' couches any the more worthy?" she asked.

  "No, Mistress," he said.

  "Do not concern yourself then with such matters," she said.

  "But so much honor!" he said.

  "Do not consider it," she said.

  "But I am only a slave," he said.

  "That is known to me," she said.

  "I have a master!" he said.

  "Of course," she said.

  "And mistress does this of her own free will?" he said.

  "Yes," she said.

  He was silent.

  She gestured to the furs beside her. "I invite you to share my couch," she said.

  He hesitated.

  "I am lying here before you," she said, " 'slave naked', as you vulgar men might say. Do you dally, handsome Milo?"

  "Mistress invites me to share her couch?" he asked.

  "Yes," she said.

  "Mistress is then preparing to couch with me?"

  "I am not only preparing to couch with you," she said. "I am prepared to couch with you." She then knelt on the couch, and back on her heels.

  I glanced to Tolnar, the magistrate. He nodded.

  "You may approach me," she said. She extended her arms, opened to him, as she knelt. "Come, handsome slave," said she. "Come, couch with me!"

  I threw the lever, releasing the net.

  It fell over her beautifully.

  She screamed in surprise and fear, as its toils dropped about her. She tried to spring to her feet on the couch, clawing at it, but fell. Milo, doubtless practiced in the matter, expertly brought it together and whipped it about her and, in an instant, on her belly on the couch, she was helpless in its folds. Almost instantly, too, Marcus entered the front room, followed by Tolnar and Venlisius. I had remained for a moment or two at the observation portal. Then I, too, followed by Lavinia, entered the room. Although she may have been aware of my movement, that of another man entering the room, she did not, in her consternation, and in her attention to Marcus and the magistrates, before her, really look upon me, or recognize me. I was then in back of her, with the bracelets and linked shackles. Milo, his work done, stood now to one side.

  "What is the meaning of this!" she cried, on her belly, turning her head to the right, lifting it from the furs, squirming in the toils of the net.

  I, behind her, gathered the net more closely about her, jerking her legs more closely together, wrapping the net more closely about them. A naked woman, on furs, netted, helpless, is quite lovely.

  "Sleen! Sleen!" she wept. She lifted her head, as she could, from the furs, looking at the magistrates who, in their robes, with their fillets, with their wands of office, regarded her. "Sleen!" she screamed at them. They did not strike her. She did not seem to realize that she had now become a slave. "Release me!" she demanded. "Release me!"

  "What was your name?" inquired Tolnar. "We shall wish it for the records."

  "I am Talena!" she cried. "I am Talena, Ubara of Ar! Down on your knees before me! I am Talena, Talena! Ubara of Ar! I am your Ubara!"

  "You may, of course, attempt to conceal your former identity," said Tolnar. "At this point it is immaterial."

  "I am Talena!" she cried.

  "Perhaps you might think to delude a poor slave," said Tolnar, "but we are free men."

  "Fools!" she wept.

  "What was your name?" he asked.

  "My name is Talena!" she said. "I am Ubara of Ar!"

  "You would have us believe that Talena, the Ubara of Ar, is what we see before us, a mere sensuous tart in need of crass sexual relief, a mere chit who would condescend to keep a rendezvous so shameful as this?"

  I looked upon her. Without her robes, her veils, the prestige of her position, guardsmen about her, the ceremonies and symbols of office, and such, she seemed small, slight, lovely, and beautifully curved, and much the same as any other woman, a delight to behold, a sweetness to put on her knees, a joy and softness designed by nature for man, something to embrace and kiss, to subdue and possess. Indeed, she reminded me of other women I had seen, in a slaver’s house, exhibited, purchasable, displayed on furs.

  "I am Talena!" she cried, squirming in the net. "Release me! I shall scream!"

  "That would be interesting, if you are Talena," said Tolnar. "You would then choose to publicize, it seems, your whereabouts. You would choose to be discovered naked and netted, before magistrates, in a room in the Metellan district, having been prepared to couch with a slave?"

  She threw her head down, angrily, on the furs. "I am Talena," she said. "Release me!"

  "What is more pertinent to our purposes," said Tolnar, "is your legal status, or, in this case, it seems, your former legal status."

  "Release me, fools!" she said.

  "What was your legal status before you entered this room?" asked Tolnar.

  "I was, and am, a free woman!" she said.

  "Of Ar?" he asked.

  "Yes!" she cried, angrily.

  "That is the crux of the matter," said Tolnar. He glanced to Venlisius, who nodded.

  "Do you doubt that I am Talena?" she demanded of Tolnar.

  "Surely you must permit me to be skeptical," he smiled.

  "I am she!" she cried. Then she looked wildly at Milo. "You know me!" she wept. "You can attest to my identity! You have seen me in the Central Cylinder! So, too, has that slut of a slave!"

  "Stand," said Tolnar to Lavinia, who immediately complied.

  "Please, Milo," begged the netted beauty, helplessly, pathetically, agonizingly, "do not lie! Tell the truth!"

  He looked at her.

  "Please, Milo!" she begged. "Tell them who I am!" How much she felt then dependent upon him, how much in his power! How different this was from her former mastery of him! How terrified she was that he might, for one reason or another, lie to the magistrates, putting her then before them as no more than a common, captured, compromised female.

  "Who was she?" asked Tolnar of Milo.

  "Talena, Ubara of Ar," said Milo.

  "Ah!" she wept in relief.

  Tolnar and Venlisius exchanged glances. They did not much relish this development.

  "Release me, you sleen!" wept Talena, struggling futilely in the net.

  "And you?" asked Tolnar of Lavinia, who was looking on the netted captive, indeed, a prisoner of the same cords which, months before, had held her with such similar perfection.

  "Master?" asked Lavinia.

  "Who was she?" said Tolnar.

  "That, too, is my understanding," said Lavinia. "Talena, of Ar."

  "Release me!" demanded the captive.

  "What difference does it make," asked Marcus, "if, indeed, she is Talena of Ar?"

  "Fool!" laughed the netted captive.

  "From the legal point of view," said Tolnar, "it makes no difference, of course."

  "Release me!" she said. "Do you think I am a common person? Do you think you can treat one of my importance in this fashion! I shall have Seremides have you boiled in oil!"

  "I am of the second Octavii," said Tolnar. "My colleague is of the Toratti."

  "Then you may be scourged and beheaded, or impaled!" she wept.

  "You would have us neglect our duty?" inquired Tolnar. He was Gorean, of course.

  "In this case," she snapped, "you are well advised to do so."

  "That is quite possibly true," said Tolnar.

  "The principle here, I gather," said Marcus, "is that the Ubara is above the law."

  "The law in question is a serious one," said Tolnar. "It was promulgated by Marlenus, Ubar of Ubars."

  "Surely," said Venlisius to the netted woman, "you do not put yourself on a level with the great Marlenus."

  "It does not matter who is greater," she said. "I am Ubara!"

  "The Ubara is above the law?" asked Marcus, who had an interest in such things.

  "In a sense, yes," said Tolnar, "the sense in which she can change the law by decree."

  "But she is subject to the law unless she chooses to chan
ge it?" asked Marcus.

  "Precisely," said Tolnar. "And that is the point here."

  "Whatever law it is," cried the netted woman, "I change it! I herewith change it!"

  "How can you change it?" asked Tolnar.

  "I am Ubara!" she said.

  "You were Ubara," he said.

  She cried out in misery, in frustration, in the net.

  "Interesting," said Marcus.

  "Release me!" demanded the woman.

  "Do you think we are fond of she who was once Talena," asked Tolnar, "of she who betrayed Ar, and collaborated with her enemies?"

  "Release me, if you value your lives!" she cried. "Seremides will wish me free! So, too, will Myron! So, too, will Lurius of Jad!"

  "But we have taken an oath to uphold the laws of Ar," said Tolnar.

  "Free me!" she said.

  "You would have us compromise our honor?" asked Tolnar.

  "I order you to do so," she said.

  Tolnar smiled.

  "Why do you smile?" she asked.

  "How can a slave order a free person to do anything?" he asked.

  "A slave!" she cried. "How dare you!"

  "You are taken into bondage," said Tolnar, "under the couching laws of Marlenus of Ar. Any free woman who couches with, or prepares to couch with, a male slave, becomes herself a slave, and the property of the male slave's master."

  "I, property!" she cried.

  "Yes," said Tolnar.

  "Absurd!" she said.

  "Not at all," he said. "It is, I assure you, all quite legal."

  "Proceed then with your farce!" she cried. "I know Appanius well, and his position in this city is much dependent upon my support! Have I not freed him of numerous burdens? Have I not adjusted his taxes? Have I not spared his house, and those of other favorites, the exactions of the levies?"

  "You acknowledge, then," asked Tolnar, "that you are a slave?"

  "Yes," she said, angrily, "I am a slave! Now, summon Appanius, immediately, that I may be promptly freed! Then you will see to what fates I shall consign you!"

  "But what if Appanius wishes you as a slave?" asked Marcus.