Hunters of Gor coc-8

by John Norman

  “I shall call some to chain you,” I said.

  “Master!” she cried.

  I was startled. It was the first time Sheera had addressed me by this title. The word must have come hard from her.

  She was still, for practical purposes, fresh to her collar. She had, however, standing there, half concealed in the darkness, begun to sense its meaning. I supposed that I, in the hold of the Tesephone, had perhaps taught her something of the import of the obdurate steel on her fair throat. She had obviously now, as it is said, deep in her body, begun to feel her collar.

  How hard it must be, to be a woman, I thought. She, noble creature, so marvelous in her temptations and beauties, with the excellences of her mind and the determined prides of her heart, how strange that she, so much prizing her freedom, is made whole only as it is ruthlessly swept from her, that the true totality of her response, the fullness of her ecstasy is the yielding and the surrender, and the more delicious and incontrovertible the more complete. The Goreans claim that in each woman there is a free companion, proud and beautiful, worthy and noble, and in each, too, a slave girl. The companion seeks for her companion; the slave girl for her master. It is further said, that on the couch, the Gorean girl, whether slave or free, who has had the experience, who has tried all loves, begs for a master. She wishes to belong completely to a man, withholding nothing, permitted to withhold nothing. And, of course, of all women, only a slave girl may truly belong to a man, only a slave girl can be truly his, in all ways, utterly, totally, completely, his, selflessly, at his mercy, his ecstatic slave, helpless and joyous in the total submission which she is given no choice but to yield.

  But I was not much interested in these things.

  I saw her before me. She was only a slave.

  “Please, Master,” she said, “chain me.”

  “How are your lessons progressing?” I asked. I referred, of course, to those lessons which Cara was teaching her, in the menial tasks appropriate to female slaves.

  “Let it be by your hand that I am chained,” she begged.

  “Are you learning?” I asked.

  She put down her head. “Yes,” she said. Then she lifted her head. “Sometimes I am clumsy,” she said,You may not understand. There are skills required, sometimes, delicate skills. Such tasks, seeming so simple to you, are not always without difficulty. It is not easy to perform such tasks well.” “Requiring skills or not,” I told her, “such tasks are servile.” “Yes,” she said, “they are servile.” “Learn them,” I told her.

  “Yes,” she said, “-Master.”

  I turned away from her.

  “Be kind to me!” she cried.

  “No,” said I, not turning.

  “Chain me!” she cried.

  I turned and faced her. “No,” I told her.

  She threw herself at me, across the sand, her fists raised to strike me. I caught her fists, and held them, as she struggled.

  “I hate you!” she wept. “I hate you!”

  I released her fists. She pulled at the collar on her throat, her mouth trembling, her eyes wild with tears.

  “You branded me,” she said. “You collared me!” She faced me. “I hate you!” she cried. “I hate you!” “Be silent, Slave,” said I to her.

  Then suddenly she looked at me, boldly. She challenged me, in her stance and carriage, with her shoulders, her eyes.

  “No,” I said.

  “Use me,” she cried, “or give me to your crew!”

  I regarded her.

  She stepped back a foot in the sand. She was frightened. She had been insolent. I stepped to her. She looked into my eyes. They were those of a Gorean master. With my hand I cuffed her brutally across the mouth, blasting her head to one side.

  She turned back to face me, her eyes glazed, blood on her face.

  With one hand I tore the fillet from her hair. with one hand I tore the sleeveless garment of white wool. I bent to the sand and picked up the slave chains which, half covered with sand, lay there.

  “No!” she said.

  By the arm I thrust her, stumbling, to the darkness of the small canvas shelter at the side of the Tesephone.

  There I thrust her to the sand, at my feet. I locked the slave chains on her. She did not move. I sat then beside her, in the darkness, in the sand, under the canvas. Then I reached out to take her head in my hands. As I did so I felt her head turn, and heard her, in the darkness, gasp and sob. Her lips, suddenly, parted, moist, almost uncontrollably, pressed a kiss into the palm of my hand. Then I held her head between my hands. I could feel the hair at the side of her head.

  “Be kind to me,” she begged.

  I laughed, softly. She moaned. I heard the chains move.

  “Please be kind to me,” she begged.

  “Be silent,” said I, “Slave.”

  “Yes,” she whispered, “-Master.”

  I pressed my lips to hers. With my finger tip I touched her body, and felt its vital, obedient helpless surge. I marveled. She began to breathe heavily. As a Gorean master, curious, I gently, delicately, touched her nipples. They were sweet and high, full and blood-charged. I was pleased. I kissed them, gently. Her responses were not feigned.

  “You are an excited slave,” I told her.

  She did not respond, but turned her head to one side. I heard her sob. Then I again touched her, my finger gently to her body. To my incredible pleasure, that of the master of this slave. I felt her body move helplessly, spasmodically. The body of Sheera, once the proud panther girl, now only a collared slave, branded, and rightless, an animal, leaped submissively, uncontrollably, to the slightest touch of her master.

  I heard Thurnock and some of the others, begin to stir about.

  It was dawn.

  Cara had already lit a fire.

  Sheera lay against me in the sand, her head pressed against my waist. She was still chained.

  “You must be up soon,” I told her, touching her head. “You will have duties to attend to.” “Yes, Master,” she whispered.

  I stroked her head, gently, as it lay against me.

  “I cannot help it that I am not as beautiful as the other girls,” said Sheera. I did not speak.

  “I cannot help it,” she said, “that my breasts are too small, that my wrists and ankles are too thick.” “I find you very beautiful,” I said.

  She rose on her elbows, with a rustle of chain. “Could a girl such as I please a man?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I said, “very much so.”

  “But I am not beautiful,” she said.

  “You are very beautiful,” I told her.

  “Am I truly beautiful?” she asked.

  I rose on one elbow. “You are a truly beautiful woman,” I told her. She smiled. How beautiful she was!

  I seized her in my arms and threw her to her back in the sand. She looked up at me, happily. “And like every truly beautiful woman,” I told her, “you should be a slave.” She laughed. “I am a slave,” she said. “Your slave.” She lifted her lips to mine.

  I kissed her.

  “Today,” I said, “Rim goes to Laura, to fetch paga slaves for the men. In the morning, we go into the forests.” “Then,” she said, “Master, you have nothing to do today?” I lay on my back. “Yes,” I said, “that is true.” “If you will unchain me,” she said, “I will be up and about my duties.” “Cara and Tina can manage,” I told her.

  “Oh?” she said.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “But what then,” she asked, “am I to do today?”

  “Thurnock!” I called.

  “Yes, Captain,” I heard, from outside the shelter.

  “Command the camp today,” I told him.

  Thurnock gave a great laugh, and Sheera thrust her head against my side. “Will you have food in your shelter?” he laughed.

  “Yes,” I told him, “from time to time.”

  He laughed and turned away.

  Sheera looked at me. She was smiling. “And I?” she asked. “
Do I have duties today?” “Yes,” I told her.

  She laughed.

  I took her again in my arms.

  7 Greena

  Softly, stealthily, the long bow of yellow Ka-la-na, from the wine trees of Gor, in my hand, I moved through the brush and trees.

  At my hip was slung the quiver, with sheaf arrows, twenty of them, of black tem wood, piled with steel, winged with the feathers of the Vosk gull.

  I wore a garb of green, mottled, striped irregularly with black. When I did not move, did I stand among the brush and light trees, in the sunlight and shadows, it was difficult to detect my presence, even from a distance of some yards. Movement is the danger, but one must move, to eat, to hunt.

  I saw a tiny brush urt scurry past. I was not likely to encounter sleen until darkness. Panthers, too, hunted largely at night, but, unlike the sleen, were not invariably nocturnal. The panther, when hungry, or irritable, hunts. Overhead were several birds, bright, chattering, darting, swift among the branches and green leaves. I heard the throaty warbling, so loud for such a small bird, of the tiny horned gim. Somewhere, far off, but carrying through the forest, was the rapid, staccato slap of the sharp beak of the yellow-breasted hermit bird, pounding into the reddish bark of the tur tree, hunting for larvae. There was not much breeze today. The forest, for the trees were more widely spread and the brush thick, was hot. I brushed back an insect from my face. I ranged far ahead of my men, scouting beyond them. We had left at dawn of the preceding day. I took ten with me, including Rim. Thurnock I left behind, at the camp, in command. We had purposely entered the forest to hunt sleen. We had circled far to the east and north.

  We would not approach Verna’s camp and dancing circle by means of the blazed trail.

  I did not know if Talena lay slave in Verna’s camp or not. If she did not, Verna and her band, would surely know her whereabouts.

  My men carried sleen nets, as though they might be sleen hunters. Such nets, however, would also be suitable for the snaring of female slaves.

  I had given Verna and her band their chance.

  I brushed back another insect from my face.

  I was pleased that I would soon regain Talena.

  We would make a splendid couple, she and I, the beautiful Talena, daughter of the Ubar of Ar himself, and the great Bosk, Admiral of Port Kar, jewel of gleaming Thassa.

  Who knew how high might be raised the chair of Bosk? “Do not go, Master, into the forests,” had begged Sheera. “It is dangerous!” “Cara,” had said I,set this slave about her duties.” “Yes, Master,” had said Cara. She took Sheera by the arm, to lead her from my presence.

  “When we reach Lydius again,” I told Sheera, “I will dispose of you there, in the slave market.” Her eyes looked at me, in horror. She then well knew herself slave. I turned away from her.

  I thought of Talena, the beautiful Talena. We would repledge our companionship. She would take her place at my side. We would make a splendid couple, she and I, the beautiful Talena, daughter of the Ubar of Ar himself, and the great Bosk, Admiral of Port Kar, jewel of gleaming Thassa.

  It would be a desirable and excellent companionship.

  Who knew how high might be raised the chair of Bosk?

  The birds carried on above me, as I passed slowly, carefully beneath them. Sometimes when I first moved below them, they would be silent, but then, seeing a moment that I was moving away, would begin to cry out again, and dart about from branch to branch. I stopped to wipe my brow on my forearm. Almost instantly they stopped, clutching the branches, the notes of their song for the instant stilled. If I had then sat down, or lain down, or remained standing for some time, but made no threatening move toward them, they would again resume their gatherings of food, their flights and songs.

  I continued on.

  Rim had returned from Laura, the afternoon of the day preceding our departure from the camp. With him, met in Laura, had come Arn, and four men. Arn had heard in Lydius that we had acquired little Tina, as I had thought he might. He was interested in obtaining her, now that she was salve. He had not forgotten that she, when free, had once in a tavern in Lydius, feigning passion, drugged him and robbed him of a purse of gold. Arn, and his four men, were now with my party, following. They were interested in picking up panther girls. I thought their services might prove valuable. I had given Arn no definite answer on his request to purchase Tina, his object in coming to my camp. It was not that I had any particular objection to selling, or giving, her to him. Those objections were Tina’s, not mine, and they were not of account, for she was slave. But I knew that one of my men, the young Turus, he with the amethyst-studded wristlet, had found her not displeasing. That she, too, seemed much excited by him did not enter into my considerations. She was merely slave. That which would be done with her would be not that which she pleased, but that which I, her master, pleased. His concern, however, that of Turus, was important to me, quite important. He was of my crew. I would decide on the disposition of lovely Tina later. Perhaps I would give her to him. There were far more important matters to attend to at the moment.

  It was past the tenth hour, past the Gorean noon. I squinted at the sun through the branches, and then looked down again, into the greenery.

  I continued on, through the brush and trees.

  I hoped to be able to scout Verna’s camp before nightfall, so that we might arrange our attack, with nets, for dawn.

  I thought of my men back at the camp. They would not fail to appreciate captured panther girls.

  Men of Port Kar know well how to introduce women to slavery.

  I smiled.

  I wondered what the paga slaves now in the camp would think of such wild captives. They would doubtless much fear them. The day of my departure from the camp, at dawn, later in that same day, four paga slaves, in yellow silks, brought up from Laura, chained in a longboat, would have arrived at my camp. It had been the main object of Rim’s journey to Laura to arrange for their rentals and delivery. According to Rim they were beauties. I hoped that he was right, for their master, Hesius, tavern owner in Laura, had not charged high rentals nor excessive delivery charges. We would have them for a copper tarn apiece, per day. Further, Hesius had told Rim that he would send wine with the girls, at no additional cost. I did not particularly want the wine, but I had no objection to its inclusion in our order.

  I hoped the girls would be beautiful, for the sake of my men.

  I, too, of course, would see them upon my return, and make my appraisals. It is important for a captain to see to the satisfaction of his men. I trusted Rim. I knew him to have a keen eye for slave beauty. If he spoke highly of the four paga slaves, they were doubtless splendid specimens of female slaves.

  “Their prices are not high,” I had told Rim.

  He had shrugged. “Prices are low in Laura,” he had said.

  It was true.

  I pushed aside branches, and slipped through.

  The paga slaves would doubtless, at first, much fear the captured panther girls, and, of course, the panther girls would much despise such slaves. I laughed softly to myself. It would soon be turnabout. My men would swiftly teach the panther girls their collars. When the paga slaves saw them simply as what they would then be, new girls, helpless, frightened, intimidated, raw girls, fresh to the delights and degradations of slavery, they would no longer fear them, but scorn them, properly, as far inferior to themselves. And the new girls would beg the paga slaves to impart to them something of their skills, that they might be more pleasing to men. And then the paga slaves, as the mood struck them, might do so or not. Some of the panther girls themselves, when sold to new masters, might find themselves just such paga slaves, girls precisely such as they would have scorned upon first being brought captive to my camp.

  I continued on, through the brush and trees. Leaves, gently, brushed my face. It was now near the twelfth Ahn.

  My plans were proceeding well. I hoped, by nightfall, to have scouted Verna’s camp.

  I co
uld strike before Marlenus of Ar could find it. He was still hunting the woods in the neighborhood of Laura.

  It did not displease me that I should bring his daughter to safety from the forests before him, or that I should have Verna, and her band, prisoner, tied in binding fiber, waiting for my iron, while he still, unknowingly, sought them where they were not.

  Marlenus, in Ar, had once banished me, denying me bread, fire and salt. I had not forgotten that.

  I laughed to myself. Let the great Ubar rage, I thought. Let him learn that one of Port Kar, one whom he once banished from his city, has swiftly, arrogantly, bettered him at his work.

  The glory that was to have been Marlenus’ would now be mine.

  I considered my return in triumph to Port Kar, the flowers in the canals, the cheerings throngs in the windows and on the rooftops.

  At my side, in robes worthy of a Ubara, would stand Talena.

  Let official word then be sent to Ar that his daughter now sat safe at my side, consort of Bosk, Admiral of Port Kar, jewel of gleaming Thassa.

  We would make a splendid couple. The companionship would be an excellent one, a superb one.

  Who knew, in time, how high might be raised the chair of Bosk?

  I pushed aside more branches, and leaves, slipping between them.

  I thought of Sheera, as she had leaped to me, her lips to mine. Then I dismissed her from my mind. I would dispose of her in the slave market at Lydius. She was merely slave.

  Suddenly I stopped.

  The birds had stopped singing.

  I lowered my head swiftly.

  The arrow struck the trunk of a tree not inches from my face.

  It hit with a solid, hard sound, and I saw the shaft, feathered, quiver in the wood.

  Some seventy-five yards through the trees I thought I saw a movement, furtive, the flash of a thigh.

  Then there was only silence.

  I was furious. I had been discovered. If the attacker reached her camp, all hopes of a surprise attack would be lost. The girls, alerted, might abandon the camp and flee deeply into the forests, taking Talena with them. My most careful plans would be undone.