Guardsman of Gor coc-16

by John Norman

“It seems you now know what to do,” I said.

  “I did not know then what I was,” she sobbed. “I know now what I am! Please untie me now, Master! Please let me serve you!”

  “You will be untied if, and when, I please,” I told her. “Yes, Master!” she sobbed. I then sat down, cross-legged, a few feet from her. I wished to think. She was an interesting, complex slave.

  The former graduate student in English literature, bound, nude and collared, struggled to her knees. She looked at me.

  “It is rather different from Earth, isn’t it?” I asked.

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  “Do you know your place, and condition?” I asked.

  “Yes, Master,” she said. “My place is at your feet. My condition is that of a slave.”

  I then gave myself to thought.

  “Master,” she asked, “may I speak?”

  “No,” I told her.

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  I then considered many things, Earth and its miseries, the nature of life, genetic endowments, biology, civilizations, chains and collars, and the small, excruciatingly desirable, curvaceous beasts that are human females.

  I heard her whimper. I looked up. “Yes?” I said.

  “May I speak, Master?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Thank you for tying me,” she whispered.

  I nodded. In tying her I had, of course, demonstrated her desirability for me. She was worth tying. Too, I had demonstrated for her, in a way that is incontrovertible for a female, my mastery over her. I had tied her. Too, of course, I had enjoyed tying her, making her helpless and mine. It is a great pleasure for a man to tie a woman. It is interesting to consider, when one thinks of it, that there are probably many men who, in all their lives, have never tied a woman. These, of course, are not Gorean men.

  I stood up, and looked down at her. She shrank back. This amused me.

  “Alas,” she said, lightly, “now I must clear the table, and finish the dishes, and put the house in order.”

  “Such things can wait,” I told her.

  “Oh,” she said.

  I continued to regard her.

  “Doubtless I am now to be locked in my kennel for the night,” she said.

  “No,” I said.

  “Oh,” she said.

  I continued to regard her, amused. She squirmed on her knees.

  “Master gave away two girls tonight,” she said, lightly. “But he kept me. He kept me in his collar.”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Is that meaningful?” she asked.

  “Perhaps,” I said.

  “I am now the only girl in the house,” she said.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Am I to be kept for full service?” she asked.

  “Doubtless you have much to learn of cooking and sewing,” I said, “but I have no doubt that you are already a superb little maid and laundress.”

  “Does Master intend to buy other girls?” she asked.

  “That will be decided later,” I said.

  “I shall endeavor to be such that master will find the purchase of others girls unnecessary,” she said.

  “But then,” I said, “you would have to render a full service.”

  She put her head down, shyly. “It is my desire,” she said, “to render my master a full service.”

  “A full Gorean service?” I asked.

  “Despise me, if you must, my Master,” she said, “but the answer is a most emphatic ‘Yes!’”

  “It had better be,” I said.

  “It is,” she laughed. “It is, my Master!”

  I walked over to her, and looked down into her eyes.

  “But will you not, sometimes, remember that you knew me from Earth?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “But you made me serve your guests naked,” she said, reproachfully.

  “Of course,” I said. “There were two reasons for that. Neither of them, of course, need be made known to you.”

  “Please, Master,” she said.

  “The first reason,” I said, “was for your own instruction. In performing such servile tasks for the guests, and while naked, were you not fully conscious that you were a slave?”

  “Quite, Master,” she said. “I am certain that I have profited well from the lesson.”

  “Secondly,” I said, “you are very pretty. Thus your nudity contributed to the pleasure of the guests and myself, thereby improving the course of the liqueurs.”

  “Then you might have me serve nude anytime?” she asked.

  “Of course,” I said.

  “Even though you knew me from Earth?”

  “Of course,” I said. “Do not expect, simply because we are both of Earth origin, that this will soften your slavery. It will only make it more delectable.”

  “Yes, Master,” she said. “Master,” she said.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “I do not want my slavery to be softened,” she said, “for any reason.”

  “It will not be,” I told her.

  “I beg to be kept in a full, and hard, slavery,” she said, looking up at me.

  “You will be,” I told her.

  “Without compromise,” she begged.

  “Without compromise,” I said.

  “Thank you, Master,” she said. “It is how I have always wanted to serve you, even from the first moment I saw you,on the campus of the university.”

  “And, too,” I said, “from the first moment I saw you, it was the form of service I wished from you.”

  “It is now yours, my Master,” she said.

  I then crouched down and gently lowered her, to her back, on the tiles. I then stood up, and looked down at her, naked and bound, at my feet.

  “Please rape me, Master,” she said. “Please subject me to slave rape.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  She looked up at me, startled. She squirmed in the bonds. There were tears in her eyes.

  “I beg to be raped,” she said. “Please, Master, rape me! Rape me!”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Is it not obvious?” she asked, weeping, twisting in the golden straps.

  I smiled.

  “I-I,” she stammered.

  “Say it,” I said.

  “I-I am hot in my collar!” she wept. She then blushed crimson.

  “What a vulgar little slave, you are,” I said.

  “What a beast Master is,” she said, “to make a girl so explicitly confess her needs.”

  I then crouched down and untied her ankles, but I held them together in my hands. I felt them trying, straining, to move apart, but they could not do so. She had little leverage and, in any event, her strength was as nothing compared to mine. They would not be thrown apart until I wished.

  “This will be the first time that you have truly had me, as my own Master,” she said. “You took me in the Street of the Writhing Slave as a Coin Girl, a mere rent girl, a street girl, a gutter wench, and you have taken me, I a helpless slave, I not knowing you, in the guise of my unknown Gorean master, but this will be the first time that you have had me, so to speak, in your own name and right.”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Please, Master,” she said, “may I beg one thing! Let it be swift, efficient and uncaring. Put me under your lust, as a mere object!”

  I regarded her. Obviously at my least touch she would go into orgasm. I had never seen a slave more ready for exploitative penetration. She wanted her first having by me, in my own name and right, to be one which would make it clear to her that she, in my arms, was only a mere slave.

  “Oh!” she cried, as I flung apart her ankles. She looked at me, in sudden fear. Then I took her.

  “Oh, yes! Yes!” she cried.

  Then I withdrew from her.

  She lay at my feet, on her side, her hands bound behind her. “Oh, yes, yes,” she whimpered.

  I had had her casually, swiftly, ruthlessly, without sensitivity
or tenderness. I had had her as a meaningless piece of slave meat.

  “Yes,” she moaned, softly, “yes, yes.”

  I looked down at her. Sexuality in the human female is a marvelous, deep, complex and total thing. Consider the female at my feet. I had scorned to show her the least respect. I had treated her as trash, and a worthless slave. Yet she moaned, bound, on the tiles, in joy. She had been treated as she had wished, as one who was merely mine, and must submit, in the order of nature. I looked down at her. Her entire body, in all its curves and beauty, cried out her vulnerable sexuality. What scoundrel, I wondered, would refuse to satisfy the needs of the female of his species?

  I kicked the girl with the side of my foot. “You are now in your place, Slave,” I said.

  “Yes, Master,” she said. “You had me well.”

  With my foot I rolled her to her back on the tiles before me.

  “Will Master keep me?” she asked. “Did I please Master?”

  “You were not entirely displeasing,” I said. “At least for the time, you will be kept.”

  “I will try to work out,” she said.

  I looked down at her, on her back, her hands tied, on the tiles at my feet.

  “I will try desperately to work out,” she said.

  “On your belly,” I said. Then I went to her and untied her hands. Quickly she rose to her knees before me. She held my legs and, softly, kissed my left thigh.

  “Now that I have had you, and I have decided to keep you about, at least for the time,” I said, “we must try to think of some name for you.”

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  “But there is no great hurry in the matter,” I said.

  “No, Master,” she said. For now she would continue nameless. Many times, incidentally, a new girl is not immediately given a name. If one doesn’t know if she will work out, or be kept, it is sometimes not thought worth the while to waste a name on her. Similarly, sometimes a master waits a few days to name the slave, to see if an appropriate name, one seemingly right for the girl, suggests itself. Most of the time, of course, it must be admitted, the girl, like a pet sleen, is promptly named. It makes it much more convenient to refer to her, and summon her. The name she is given, of course, is a function of the will of the Master, and names may be changed, as he pleases. Sometimes, for example, a girl may be rewarded with a lovely name, or punished with an ugly one.

  “Thank you for my slave rape,” she said. “It is how I wished first to be had by you.”

  “It seemed appropriate for a low slave,” I said.

  “Yes, Master,” she said. “Thank you, Master.” I felt her nibbling at the tunic at my thigh, and kissing, softly, through it. I felt the dampness, the wet, from her small, warm mouth, and, too, through the cloth, the movement of her tongue. “Master did not even remove his tunic,” she said.

  “Do you object, in the least?” I asked.

  “No, Master,” she said. “I am only a slave.”

  “To your work,” I said, jerking my thumb toward the table.

  Startled, she rose swiftly to her feet and went to the table, where she, kneeling down, began to gather together the dishes and stack them.

  It pleased me to see her, naked and in my collar, engaged in this necessary and menial labor, fitting for a slave. This also gave me the opportunity I desired, unseen by her, to fetch forth from the chest an object which, long ago, I had purchased for her on the great concourse near the wharves.

  I moved quietly behind her, as she knelt, working, at the table, the object, in several loops, held between my hands. I then, with one motion, slung the loops over her head and body, and jerked back, straightening her body, and pinning her arms to her sides. “Chain!” she cried. “Master!” She tensed her body and struggled, but only for an instant. I tightened the chains. She ceased struggling. The chains were tight in her flesh. “Master?” she asked. I then lifted the chains from her, and held them out, before her. “It is beautiful,” she said.

  She saw now that the chains had been the loops of a single, graceful body chain, sinuous and glossy, closely meshed and dark, ornamented with colorful beads of wood, semiprecious stones and bits of leather. Its full loop is some five feet in length, and it can be wound and looped, and twisted and strung about a woman’s body in a variety of intricate fashions. It is light and the closeness of its meshing allows it to follow closely the contours of a woman’s body. It is unbreakable. It may be worn with or without clothing. By means of small clips, snap clips or lock clips, it may be used to secure as well as adorn a woman. It is to be worn, of course, only by a slave.

  “It is beautiful, my Master!” she said. “Is it mine?”

  “It is mine,” I said, “as you are. You own nothing. It is you, rather, who are owned.”

  “Yes, Master,” she laughed, “but did you not buy it for me?”

  “For you, or for any other slave,” I said, lightly.

  “I think I am the slave you had in mind,” she said.

  “Perhaps,” I said.

  “The first time you ever looked at me, on the campus of the university,” she said, “you looked upon me as though I might be a slave.”

  “I did?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “Do you think a woman does not know when she is being looked upon as though she might be a slave? We are not stupid, my dear Master. Furthermore, you looked upon me as though I might be your slave.”

  “I was not, at that time, clearly aware of such things,” I said.

  “And, in my heart, beneath those ridiculous garments of Earth I then wore, I knew that you were right.”

  “You would scarcely greet me,” I said. “It seemed you would scarcely deign to recognize my existence.”

  “I was afraid,” she said. “Everything was suddenly so different. Can you imagine what it would be for an Earth girl, with all her conditioning, and her education and training, to suddenly recognize that she is a female, and has met her master?”

  “Doubtless it would be a troubling insight,” I admitted.

  “Put the chain on me, Master,” she laughed. “I am eager to see how I look in it!”

  “Vain slave,” I said. Then she stood and I, from behind, looped the chain about her. She hurried to one wall, where there was a full-length mirror, and, turning and posing, and adjusting the chain on herself, she examined herself.

  “It is beautiful,” she said, turning. “How I pity poor free women who cannot wear such things.” Then she looked at herself, frontally, and, skeptically, tilting her head one way and another, experimented with the chain, varying its lines, loopings and tensions. She adjusted it with her small hands with meticulous care and fastidious taste. “I think I would bring a high price,” she said, not taking her eyes from the mirror.

  “In a market,” I said, “you would not be sold in the chain.”

  “Even so,” she said, “if I were a man, I think I might buy me.”

  I did not respond.

  “Of Shirley, Peggy, Lola and myself,” she asked, “who is the most beautiful?”

  “Most men,” I said, “would probably pay most for Shirley, as most men would regard her as the most desirable, if not the most beautiful. Then I would think that Peggy would bring the next highest price, and then Lola, and then you.”

  “I would be last?” she asked, still looking in the mirror.

  “I think so,” I said, “clearly.”

  “But surely some men would find me attractive,” she said.

  “Of course,” I said.

  “I think I would bring a good price,” she said.

  “You might,” I said.

  “You do not find me unattractive, do you, Master?” she asked, lifting her hands to her head and throwing back her hair, regarding herself.

  “You are being kept,” I pointed out, “at least for the time.”

  “You do find me attractive, don’t you, Master?” she asked, turning to face me.

  “You are not found to be entirely displeasing to m
y senses,” I said.

  She swiftly came to where I stood and knelt down before me, and kissed my feet, and then lifted her head, looking at me. “That pleases me, my Master,” she said.

  I then lifted her to her feet, but did not permit her to press her lips to mine.

  “Do you like the chain?” I asked.

  “Yes, Master,” she said, “it is beautiful.”

  “It is not expensive,” I said. “It is a common piece of slave jewelry.”

  “Fit for a low slave,” she smiled.

  “It also has certain features of which you might not be immediately aware,” I said.

  “Oh!” she said. Then she tried to pull her wrists apart, from behind the back of her body. “I am chained!” she said.

  “Yes,” I said. With the small clips, using convenient portions of the chain, I had fastened her hands behind her. With the clips, of course, she may be chained by the hands and feet, and waist and neck, in almost any conceivable position.

  “I now see why free women do not wear these things,” she smiled.

  The chain was now secured with snap clips, which are usually perfectly adequate, as the girl, as she is chained, cannot reach or undo the snaps. I had also, however, purchased a set of lock slips, which are useful in some chaining situations or out-of-doors, where, say, one would not wish a stranger to be able to gag the slave, undo the clips and carry her off from where, perhaps, she has been chained to a post. The body chain I had purchased, though efficient, and attractive and sturdy, was not an expensive one. Some such chains, of course, such as those sometimes worn by high slaves, are quite expensive, being of gold and set with such stones as rubies, sapphires and diamonds.

  She moved away from me, and turned before me. “Am I pretty in your chain?” she asked.

  I wanted to scream with pleasure, the little she-sleen! How well the little beast knew what she was doing! What a slave she was.

  “I see that you think I would bring a good price,” she said.

  I clenched my fists.

  “You do find me quite attractive, you know,” she said.

  I said nothing.

  “Masters find it so difficult to conceal their desire,” she laughed.

  I said nothing.

  “I am helpless, you know,” she said, trying to pull her wrists apart.

  “I know,” I said.