approaching a critical juncture.
As I pondered these matters the door to the paga room burst open and the fellow,
fierce and bearded, who had been in the baths now appeared, in the uniform of
the company of Artemidorus of Cos, which, indeed, I had supposed must be his. He
wore his sword, on its strap over the left shoulder. This is common among Gorean
warriors, though not on the march nor in tarnflight. In this arrangement the
sword may be unsheathed and the scabbard and strap discarded in one movement. He
carried his helmet and the intriguing pouch which had caught my attention
earlier, that which he had carried with him even in the room of the baths.
I did not meet the fellow’s eyes, not wanting to explore the consequences of a
confrontation. I supposed I should permit myself, if the occasion arose, to be
bullied and humiliated, that I might not risk complications or delay in my
mission. Still, I am not always as rational as I might be, and if her threatened
or challenged me, I was not at all certain that I could summon the concealments
and coolness necessary to endure abuse. I am upon occasion too hot-headed, too
quick to act, too ready to respond to any insult or slight, real or imagined. It
is doubtless one of many faults. Perhaps I should be more like a Dietrich of
Tarnburg, who might dissemble plausibly, and then, later, when it suited his
convenience, and if it fitted into his plans, make his kills.
I did not raise my eyes but appeared to be concerned with the paga. I heard him
make a sound of contempt. I wondered if he noted that my hand closed more
tightly upon the base of the kantharos. I should try to control that. I think, I
myself, might have noticed it, in the movement of the upper arm. He stood there,
a few feet away. I began to feel insulted. Heat rose in my body. I controlled
myself. Surely that is what Dietrich of Tarnburg would have done. I did not look
up. Warriors, of course, are trained to rely upon peripheral vision. If he
approached me too closely, coming within a predetermined critical distance, I
could dash the paga upward into his eyes and wrench the table up and about,
plunging one of the legs into his diaphragm. Then in a moment I could have him
under my foot or upon my sword. Such authorities recommend breaking the
kantharos into shards on the face, marking the target above the bridge of the
nose with the rim. This can be even more dangerous with a metal goblet. Many
civilians, I believe, do not know why certain warriors, by habit, request their
paga in metal goblets when dining in public houses. They regard it, I suppose,
as an eccentricity. I heard him make another sound of contempt, and then he
strode away, toward another table. He was still alive. I wondered what was in
the pouch.
I took another sip of paga.
The fellow, I noted, had taken one of the larger tables, a double table, for
himself. To be sure, the paga room was not crowded. He and I were the only
customers at this hour. I had taken a small table near the wall. The small table
does not encourage the approach of strangers. Its location, too, was not an
accident. It permits one to survey the entire room, including the entrance, and,
too, to have the wall at one’s back.
He smote twice on the surface of his table. It leapt under his blows.
“Waitress!†he called. “Waitress!â€
I heard the swinging of the kitchen door and a sound of chain. The Lady Temione
came forth. I would have to admit that she was pretty, in the half light, in her
chains. She had apparently cleaned herself, or had been cleaned, perhaps having
her head and upper body thrust into a washing tub. There was no sign now, at any
rate, of the porridge in her hair, or about her face, neck, shoulders and
breasts. She cast an angry look at me. I was still nursing the paga. I even had
some bread left.
She hurried to the newcomer.
It seemed for a moment she was going to request his order on her feet, almost as
though in defiance, but then, looking back at me, she suddenly knelt and
performed obeisance and then knelt back on her heels, in a waitress’s proper
deference, to receive the orders of the keeper’s customer.
(pg.78) I took another sip of paga. She would, of course, have to return to my
table, eventually, to bring the check. Perhaps that was why she chose to observe
the waitress’s proper forms. To be sure, the waitresses in Gorean paga rooms,
and such, are usually slaves. Still, it did not seem inappropriate that she,
too, should perform suitable service at table. She was, after all, a debtor
slut. Perhaps she thought I might beat her, or have her beaten, if she omitted
these courtesies. Particularly after I had taken the time to explain them to
her. In this, of course, she was correct.
The fellow was looking at her, narrowly, in the half light. She shrank back
under his gaze. Then he rose to his feet and went to crouch near her. He touched
her about the neck. Then, literally, moving her about, his hands on her knees,
he examined her thighs. Then, standing, he pulled her half to her feet, by the
upper arms.
“Where is your collar?†he demanded. “Where is your brand?â€
“I’m free!†she wept.
He then shook her, angrily, like a doll. Her head jerked back and forth. I was
afraid, for a moment, that her neck might break.
“Where is your collar, your brand?†he cried.
“I’m free!†she wept. “I’m free!â€
“Bring me a woman!†he cried toward the kitchen, still holding her helplessly
before me. “Bring me a woman!â€
“What is wrong?†asked a fellow, looking out from the kitchen, probably the
night cook.
“Where is the keeper!†cried the fellow.
“He has retired,†said the fellow.
“This thing is free!†cried the fellow, giving the Lady Temione another shake.
“How dare you send it to my table! I do not want it! Send me a female! Send me a
woman!†He then hurled the Lady Temione from him and, with a rattle of chains,
she struck the floor. There, terrified, feet from him, she lay on her belly. I
was amused to see her lift herself slightly, surely not even aware of what she
was doing, a natural female appeasement behavior in the face of male anger. I
thought she would do well in a collar. Then, as though she might suddenly have
understood what she was doing, she lowered herself as flat to the tiles as she
could, (pg. 79) trembling with fear and shame. She looked at me, wildly, hoping
I had not noticed her behavior. I smiled, and she sobbed. Her womanhood had been
observed. The newcomer, as nearly as I could tell, had taken no note of these
things.
“Immediately, Sir!†called the fellow from the kitchen door. “In but a moment,
Sir!†Then he called to the Lady Temione. “Quick,†he cried, “back to the
kitchen, slut! No! Do not rise! Crawl!†He then disappeared back through the
kitchen door. The Lady Temione paused near my table, on all fours. She looked at
me. She
had been rejected by a man, thrown from him, in disgust. I saw that she
was stunned, that she was confused, that she was bewildered. Many free women
regard themselves, with justification, as marvelous prizes. It can come as a
great shock to them to suddenly realize they are, for most practical purposes,
worthless. This rejection had shaken her profoundly. Like many free women she
probably regarded herself as inordinately attractive. She looked at me,
piteously, beggingly. She wanted some reassurance from me, that she might be at
least a little bit desirable or attractive.
“Check,†I told her, “and as you are.†I then indicated with a gesture of my
finger, that she should proceed on her way. Sobbing, slowly, as she could, in
her chaining, she took her way from the room. She had scarcely attained the
kitchen door before another woman emerged, swiftly, yet gracefully, drawing a
diaphanous silken wrap about her. How she moved. There was a close-fitting
collar on her neck. How beautiful she was! What bondage does for a woman! She
hurried to the fellow and bellied to him. immediately he seemed mollified. I
felt my fingernails scratch on the lacquer on the table. That must be one of the
keeper’s best girls, I thought. Indeed, perhaps she was the keeper’s preferred
slave, sent by him to the customer from his own furs.
I then sopped the last of the bread in the bottom of the kantharos.
Now, emerging from the kitchen, came the Lady Temione on all fours, as I had
commanded. From her mouth, on its looped string, dangled the small, closed,
hinged, wooden waxed tablet which would contain the bill. These tablets, and
tablets of these sorts, which sometimes have several divisions, and fold up, are
often used on Gor for drafts, note taking, temporary tallyings, children’s
lessons, and such. (pg.80) They contain one or more waxed surfaces which are
written on by a stylus. The smaller ones open like flat books, not roll books,
and may be closed with tiny latches, or tied shut.
There was a small sound as the small wooden tablet, on its string, touched the
floor near the table, as the Lady Temione put down her head, doing obeisance.
Then, lifting her head, crawling, she approached the table, and placed the
tablet on the table.
I looked over to the table where the newcomer was. He had now pulled the slave
to him and thrown her on her belly over the table.
“Disgusting,†said the Lady Temione.
“An attractive slave,†I commented. The girl was now gasping and clinging to the
table. He was not being gently with her. But then, of course, she was only a
slave.
“Disgusting,†said the Lady Temione.
“He may be something of a boor, but he seems to caress well,†I said.
The girl was now gasping with love noises.
“I would not know anything about that,†she said, acidly.
Yet I noted she did not take her eyes from the abused slave.
“Would you like to be subject to such uses?†I asked.
“No!†she said. “No! No!â€
the sudden, tense, almost hysterical ardor of her denial spokes of truths, and
needs, and depths within her of the existence of which she must be only too
keenly aware, and yet truths, depths and needs which, for some reason or
another, she seemed almost tragically desperate to conceal and deny, perhaps
mostly from herself. I thought she might serve well herself, on such a table. I
recalled that she had chosen to live dangerously, relying much on duping men to
make her way through the world. Surely she must have realized that there were
dangers in practicing such a livelihood. Not all men are fools. Was she, perhaps
unbeknownst to herself, in these peregrinations, truly, searching for a man, or
men, who were not, men who would simply take her in hand and give her what she
deserved, desired, and needed, her total subjugation?
I picked up the small, closed tablet on the table, unlatched it and examined the
amount. It was correct, bread and paga, two copper tarsks, the other food, an
additional three.
I then glanced at the Lady Temione. She had a beautiful face. The auburn hair
was certainly attractive. She had good flanks, not a bad belly, and lovely
breasts. To be sure, she needed diet, exercise and discipline. Those things,
too, besides improving her appearance, would considerably increase her sexual
needs. Yes, she was beautiful. Many of the women of Cos are beautiful. We enjoy
them in Port Kar. She was aroused, to the extent she could be, as a free woman,
in watching the taking of the slave. To be sure, she had been given little
choice, and put to the tables. I had seen to it that she had performed obeisance
before men. Too, she had been made to crawl in the presence of men, and had been
made to bring the bill in her teeth. Such things work their effects on women,
even free women.
I closed the tablet and latched it.
The slave on the table gasped, used, serving, clinging to its edges.
The bearded fellow, holding her, was then still for a moment.
“She is moving!†said the Lady Temione, scandalized.
“Yes,†I said, “she is cooperating in what is being done.â€
“Terrible!†whispered the Lady Temione.
“Perhaps she is responding to instructions,†I said.
“Instructions!†she said.
“OF course,†I said. I wondered if the free woman really thought that the
subjugation of slaves to orders ended with such matters as cooking and cleaning,
the polishing of leather and such, and that they would not be similarly subject
to orders, and also absolutely, where the intimate, marvelous, precious,
private, delicious realms of the furs were concerned. Indeed, some think it is
most pleasant to command the slave in such places, a couching chamber, a room of
submission, a cubicle, and so on.
The bearded fellow drew back for a moment.
The girl clutched the table. She was still for a moment or two. Then she moaned.
Then she moved.
“Did you see that!†she said. “She actually lifted herself to him!â€
(pg. 82) “Surely only a slave would so lift herself to a male,†I said.
The Lady Temione blushed, hotly.
“Look at that slut wriggle!†she said.
“She is afraid she may not have been fully pleasing,†I said. “She is trying now
to interest him, to be pleasing, to entice him. But I think he is not angry with
her. I think he is only playing with her, only teasing her.†I wondered how the
Lady Temione would wriggle.
“Look!†said the Lady Temione.
“He is now again with her,†I said.
“Yes!†she said.
“Yes,†I agreed. The slave was indeed beautiful. To ground my emotion, so to
speak, I gripped the table. It seemed thusly, interestingly, as though my
tension might pass through it then, down to the floor, to be dissipated, like a
flood. I kept myself from breaking wood from the table.
“Am I attractive?†asked the Lady Temione.
“Ye
s,†I said.
“Ah!†she said.
“—as free women go,†I added.
“Sleen!†she sobbed. “Sleen!â€
The slave now moaned and whimpered, and then cried out, suddenly, as though
momentarily frightened, or alarmed, but then, again, in a moment, understanding
what was going to be done with her, that to which she was relentlessly being
brought, began to cry out softly, gladly, gratefully, eagerly, anticipatingly.
“Why does that girl reveal her emotions like that?†asked Lady Temione.
“Perhaps she is forbidden to conceal them,†I said.
“Oh!†she said. “How naked that would make a woman.â€
“Yes,†said, “but it also, in its way, makes her free.â€
“I suppose so,†she said, enviously.
Suddenly the girl on the table screamed aloud, again and again, half reared up,
began to buck, but could not escape, so tightly and helplessly held she was,
uttering the word, “Master!†over and over.
“Slave orgasm has been forced upon her,†I commented.
Lady Temione quivered in her chains.
“I suspect he will not even have to pay for that use of (pg.83) her,†I said.
“It will probably be given to him, as a token of good will, in compensation for
his earlier disappointment.â€
The fellow had resumed his place now behind the table, sitting there,
cross-legged, but he had permitted the slave to half lie, half sit, by him,
holding to him, her arms about his waist, her head and hair at his side.
“How pleased I am,†she said, “that I am not a woman such as that!â€
“I see,†I said.
The slave now knelt beside him, holding him by the arm. She was looking at him
with something akin to awe, for what he had done to her, for what he had made
her feel. She kissed him softly, deferentially, gratefully, about the shoulder.
“I am not a servile, wriggling slave,†she said, angrily.
“She is not wriggling now,†I said.
“Look at her,†she said, in disgust. “She is content!â€
“But she must fear,†I said, “for she may be ordered from him by so little as a
word or gesture, and she must obey in all things.â€
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