Guardsman of Gor coc-16

by John Norman

  Callimachus looked down at the bound slave. “From the first instant I saw you,” he said, “I wanted you as my slave.”

  “And from the first instant I saw you, my Master!” cried the girl, looking up at him, “I was your slave!”

  And then he reached down and seized her and, holding her by the upper arms, before him, she unable to stand, as she was bound, he began to cover her face and mouth, and throat, and breasts, with kisses.

  “Oh, Master,” begged Florence, “please take me home, and use me! Please, my Master, take me home, and use me!”

  “It has been a pleasant evening,” grinned Miles of Vonda, rising to his feet.

  We all rose.

  “I shall call you ‘Peggy,” said Callimachus to his new slave. “It is a superb name for an Earth-girl slave.”

  “Yes, Master!” she said. “I am Peggy. I am Peggy!”

  Tasdron signaled to the musicians, that they might now leave, and, quietly, not calling attention to themselves, they began to gather together their various instruments and other paraphernalia.

  “Come, Slave. Step quickly. Off with the garment,” said Aemilianus to the voluptuous slave, who had been Shirley, whipping out the binding strap I had given him earlier.

  Quickly she ran to him, stripped off the yellow gauze she had worn, turned her back to him and crossed her wrists. He then tied her wrists behind her back.

  “May you get much service and joy from her,” I said.

  “I shall,” he said, “if she wishes to live.”

  The girl trembled, and there was much laughter about the table.

  “What will you call her?” I asked.

  “‘Shirley’,” said he. “That is an excellent name.”

  “An Earth-girl name!” laughed Glyco, meaningfully.

  “You are Shirley,” said Aemilianus to the slave.

  “Yes, Master,” she said. “I am Shirley.” She trembled, her wrists helplessly confined in the loops of the binding strap.

  She had been given an Earth girl name. She then realized just how perfect and complete would be the slavery to which she would be subjected in the house of Aemilianus. It would be a slavery at least analogous to that in which an Earth girl is held in a Gorean house. It was little wonder, then, that, hearing her new name, she had trembled in terror.

  “Oh!” cried Lola, wincing, standing with her back to Calliodorus. He had tied her wrists behind her back.

  He then turned her to face him. “Do you object, Lady Lola, of Port Cos?” he asked.

  “I am not the Lady Lola, of Port Cos,” she said. “I am only your lowly slave.”

  “Do not forget it,” he said, lifting her head up with his fingers and, bending down, kissing her gently on the lips.

  “No, Master,” she whispered.

  The last of the musicians had now filed from the house. I thought they had been superb. I would later, in a few days, send a tip for them to the tavern of Tasdron.

  I glanced at the small, dark-haired slave. I expected that I would be spending the next few days muchly in the house. She, watching Calliodorus and Lola, did not realize that I had glanced upon her. That, I suspected, was just as well. Such heat and desire as might have been revealed in even so casual a glance might have frightened her. She would learn soon enough, lovely little collared beast, what it was, fully, on Gor, to be a master’s slave.

  I saw that Callimachus had now removed the binding fiber from Peggy, with which he had so joyfully asserted his power over her, that he might bind her and make her helpless, and his ownership over her, that she was his to so bind and to so make helpless. She was on her knees before him, kissing at his feet and weeping. “Do you have another binding strap,” asked Callimachus, sheepishly, “something to take her home in?”

  “By some odd chance, I do,” I said, grinning, and threw him such a strap. I had brought three such straps to the table, one for each of the girls who was to be awarded as a gift. In a moment Peggy was on her feet and her head was back. She winced and then laughed with joy. Her wrists had been tightly tied. She knew then that her life with Callimachus would not be easy, nor did she wish it to be. She did not want a weak man; she wanted a man strong enough to elicit, dominate and control the woman in her; Callimachus, a Gorean master, she now realized, would do so; she now realized that he would not compromise with her; she would be kept in total slavery, under the strictest of disciplines, fully owned and uncompromisingly mastered; she would serve him perfectly; she was joyful.

  “Please, Master,” begged Florence, “bind me in some way.”

  “Very well,” said Miles of Vonda, kindly.

  Peggy, her hands tied behind her back, went to kneel before Tasdron. He had given her to Callimachus. She kissed his feet in gratitude. “Thank you, Master,” she wept, “thank you!”

  “Thank you, Master,” breathed Florence to miles of Vonda. He had locked her hands behind her back, in slave bracelets. She, too, now had been bound by her master.

  His desire for her, and his mastery over her, had now been, to her joy, by the steel of the confining bracelets, attested. She extended her head to him, her lips pursed, her eyes closed, to kiss him, but he seized the sides of the opening of her slave tunic, the left side in his right fist, the right side in his left fist.

  “Master?” she asked, opening her eyes. The sides of her tunic were held tightly. “Master?” she asked. “Are you not a slave?” asked Miles of Vonda. “Yes, Master,” she said. Then, suddenly, laughing, Miles of Vonda jerked open the tunic and tore it down about her lovely, flaring hips. He then thrust it open and back on her hips. Its upper portions hung back, depending from the belt, still in place, about her braceleted wrists. “Yes, Master!” she said. “March me naked through the streets as your slave. I love you!”

  Miles of Vonda then picked up the lyre, which she had used earlier in entertaining us. With its strap he slung the small, lovely, curved, stringed instrument about her body, the strap over her right shoulder, the instrument behind her left hip. The delicacy of the instrument, with its suggestion of refinement, gentility and civilization, contrasted nicely with the barbarity of her luscious, enslaved nudity, the shreds of her tunic and her helpless, steel-clasped wrists.

  “I love you, Master!” she cried. She pressed her body to him and he, clasping her to him, with force and possessiveness, kissed her as his desired and owned slave. I had little doubt that when he arrived home he would play well upon her body, making it the instrument of his attentions. He would draw forth from her by his skills rhapsodies of movements, cries, moans, utterances and admissions, a music to the ears of both the conquering master and the delicious, yielding slave, she who finds, and can find, her most glorious victory only in her most complete and devastating defeat. “I love you, Master!” she was weeping. “I love you!”

  Tasdron, with a snapping of his fingers calling Peggy to her feet, removed his collar from about her neck, and she ran to stand, head down, deferential and bound, near Callimachus. I threw Aemilianus the key to the collar of Shirley, and he removed it from her. I myself took the steel of my collar from Lola’s throat.

  “Thank you for giving me to Calliodorus,” she said.

  “Serve him well,” I said.

  “I shall. I shall!” she said.

  Slave girls, of course, may speak the name of their masters to others, for example, as in locutions such as, “I am the girl of Calliodorus of Port Cos,” or “I come from the house of Calliodorus.” It is only that they are seldom, in addressing the master himself, permitted to use his name. He is usually addressed simply as “Master,” or as “my Master.”

  “I have an announcement to make,” said Tasdron, “for which I have waited until now.” We regarded him. The slaves knelt. A free man was speaking. “The forces of the Vosk League are soon to be organized,” said Tasdron. “It is my honor and pleasure to inform you that one among us has agreed to act as the commander of these forces. He is, of course, Callimachus, of Port Cos!”

  “C
ongratulations!” I cried to Callimachus, shaking his hand. There was Gorean applause.

  “The appointment was made earlier this afternoon, in a secret session of the High Council of the Vosk League,” said Tasdron, “that body sovereign in the league, composed of representatives drawn from all the member towns.” Tasdron smiled at me. “This time and place,” he said, “seemed appropriate for making the first public announcement of the appointment.”

  “Thank you, Tasdron,” I said. He had honored my house. Peggy was looking up at Callimachus, from her knees, her hands bound behind her back. Her eyes were shining. How proud she was of her master.

  “But what of Port Cos?” asked Calliodorus. “Are you not to return to Port Cos, to replace Callisthenes, to become High Captain?”

  “That post is yours, my friend, Calliodorus,” said Glyco.

  “My thanks!” said Calliodorus.

  We applauded him, congratulating him and expressing our approval of the wisdom of the appointment. On her knees beside him, her hands tightly bound behind her back in the black binding strap, Lola pressed her lips fervently against his leg, and looked up at him. Her eyes shone, too. How proud, too, she was of her master!”

  Tasdron reached into his pouch. “I am sure that you recognize this,” he said. He held, in his hands, two pieces of rock.

  “The topaz!” said Aemilianus.

  “The topaz!” said Calliodorus.

  “What you do not know,” said Tasdron, “is that long ago, over a century ago, this stone, unbroken, was the Home Stone of Victoria.”

  We were startled. There was silence in the room.

  “Over a hundred years ago,” said Tasdron, “it was carried away by pirates, and broken. Since that time Victoria has not had a Home Stone. What had once been our Home Stone served then as nothing more than a pledge symbol among the buccaneers of the river. In a few days we of the council of Victoria will go down to the river. There, from the shore of the Vosk, we shall select a common stone, not much unlike others. That, then, shall be the new Home Stone of Victoria.”

  There were tears in my eyes.

  “What of the topaz?” asked Aemilianus.

  “It has been broken,” said Tasdron. “No longer may it serve as a Home Stone.”

  “Why have you brought it here?” asked Calliodorus.

  “Ar’s Station and Port Cos,” said Tasdron, “are mighty powers on the river. I brought it here that I might give one half to you, Aemilianus, and one half to you, Calliodorus. In all that may later ensue, whatever it may be, do not forget that you once fought together, and once were comrades.”

  Tasdron then gave half of the topaz to Aemilianus and the other half to Calliodorus.

  “My thanks,” said Aemilianus.

  “My thanks,” said Calliodorus.

  Then Aemilianus looked at Calliodorus. “Let us never forget the topaz,” he said.

  “We will not,” said Calliodorus.

  We then went to the door, and, as pleasantries were exchanged, our guests, one by one, began to take their leave. Miles of Vonda left first, heeled by his curvaceous, auburn haired beauty, Florence, once, too, of Vonda. On the street, below, at the foot of the stairs, he ordered her to precede him. She then did so, well exposed in the shreds of the tunic, the delicate lyre slung behind her left hip, her wrists fastened behind her, with Gorean efficiency, in her master’s steel. She walked before him, her shoulders back, her head high; she walked before him, happily, beautifully, a loved, paraded slave. Aemilianus next left, heeled by Shirley. Following him, Glyco and Calliodorus, both of Port Cos, left, the pair being heeled by Lola.

  Tasdron and Callimachus paused at the door.

  “Tasdron,” said I, “when the council arrives at the shore of the Vosk, it is my hope that I may be there.”

  “It is our hope, too, that you will be there,” said Tasdron, “with the others of Victoria.”

  We clasped hands. Tasdron then left. He carried with him the brief white tunic which Peggy had worn, and the collar which he had taken from her throat. They would fit other girls.

  “Congratulations, again!” I said to Callimachus.

  “Thank you,” he said. “I shall, of course, need strong men, men from the various towns, men tried and true.”

  “Doubtless you will find them,” I said. “The finest swords on the river will be eager to place themselves in your service.”

  He then casually thrust Peggy ahead of him through the door, and she hurried, bound, down to the first landing of the stairs, some yards above the street. Callimachus followed her a step or two, and then he turned, and faced me.

  “The temporary headquarters of the forces of the Vosk League,” he said to me, “will be in the private serving room of the tavern of Tasdron. You know the place.”

  “Of course,” I said. We had met there, many times.

  “In five days,” said Callimachus, “you will report to me there.”

  “Report?” I asked.

  “I have selected you as my second in command,” he said.

  “Callimachus!” I cried.

  “Or do you, now that you are rich, fear the travail of the service, the offices of such a guardsman?”

  “No!” I cried.

  “Then you have your orders,” he said.

  “Yes, Captain!” I said.

  He then went down one or two stairs, and then turned, and again faced me. “We might discuss this at greater length, but, as you might understand,” he said, jerking a thumb at the nude, bound Peggy, waiting for him on the landing, “I am in a hurry to get this slave home, and use her.”

  “Yes, Captain,” I grinned.

  He then joined Peggy on the landing. He regarded the lovely, bound slave. She drew back. “Am I not to heel you, my Master?” she asked.

  “Precede me,” he said.

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  “Thus,” said he, “should any of Victoria be abroad at this hour they may observe the value and the quality of the animal, this lovely gift, which I have been given.”

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  “And, too,” he smiled, “I wish to anticipate the pleasures which I am shortly to derive from you.”

  “Yes, Master,” she laughed, and hurried down the stairs ahead of him.

  I then closed the door, and threw the bolts and bars in place. I then turned and looked at the small slave standing near me. “Go to a place near the table,” I said, “and kneel there on the tiles, with your head bowed, deferentially.”

  “Yes, Master,” she said, and hurried to obey. I then went about the house, locking and securing it. The dancers, and their master, of course, had gone long ago. I had made many improvements in the house. I set the bars and bolts in place at the back door; leading from the kitchen. I attended, too, to the windows. When I returned to the vicinity of the table the house, in effect, had been transformed into a small fortress.

  I looked at the small slave, kneeling, head down, on the scarlet tiles, in the light of the lamps.

  “We are alone,” I said.

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  “You may lift your head,” I said.

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  I walked about her, examining her. She was very beautiful.

  “May I speak, Master?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “You brought three binding straps to the table,” she said.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “But you brought none for me?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Ah,” she said.

  “Your gift to me, your performance, during the course of the black wine,” I said, “was very beautiful.”

  “Thank you, Master,” she said. “But it was not a mere entertainment. I had long fantasized stripping myself before you, and offering myself to you as your slave.”

  “Really?” I said.

  “Yes,” she said. “And in many fashions, and ways.”

  “You shall enact these for me in the
future,” I said.

  “I shall be pleased to do so, Master,” she said.

  “How long have you entertained these fantasies?” I asked.

  “Even on Earth,” she said. “I can even recall attempting to decide what might be the most sensuous way I could remove a bikini before you.”

  I took her by the upper arms and put her forward, on her belly, on the tiles, and then I crossed her wrists behind her body, and her ankles. It is a standard binding position. She then retained this position, not having been given permission to break it, while I went to the tiles at the foot of the table and gathered up the two golden straps with which, earlier, she had simulated the footwear she had worn at the restaurant. I then returned to her side and crouched down. I then began to tie her, her wrists with one of the straps, and her ankles with the other.

  “Had you fantasized thusly,” I asked, tying her, “the removal of your clothing, the white-sheath gown, and such, and the offering of yourself to me as a slave, on the night of our meeting at the restaurant?”

  She winced. I checked the knots.

  I then turned her to her back.

  “Yes, Master,” she said, looking up at me, “but then, of course, I did not know that slaves were not permitted purses nor, without their master’s explicit permission, a nether closure to their garments.”

  I stood up, and looked down at her.

  “You have tied me,” she said. “I am helpless! You own me!”

  “But you were testy, ill-tempered, belligerent in the restaurant,” I said.

  She squirmed on the tiles, bound. “I was a confused Earth woman,” she said. “I did not know what to do!”

  She tried to pull her ankles apart. “Please untie my ankles, Master,” she begged. “Let me throw them apart for you!”