than is normally expected.â€
“And this tarsk,†I said, “is for you and your men.â€
“That is not necessary, Captain,†protested the officer.
The coin dropped into the pot. “It is carnival,†I smiled.
“Thank you, Captain,†said the officer.
“Thank you, Captain,†said the guards.
I replaced the copper pot beside the kaissa table.
I looked down at the slave. “Have you finished the pastry?†I asked.
“Yes, Master,†seh smiled.
“Clean your fingers. Suck and lick them,†I said.
“Yes, Master,†she said. I was growing hot for her. I must soon get her to a
rack.
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“It is no use, kind sirs,†said Boots Tarsk-Bit, returning, carrying the two
empty coin bowls. “They are empty.â€
“What of that pot?†asked the officer, indicating the one beside the kaissa
table. “That contains earnings accruing to your troupe, does it not, from your
kaissa booth?â€
“Alas, it contains only three tarsk bits,†lamented Boots Tarsk-Bit.
“Do your trust him?†asked the officer of one of the guards.
“Not I, Sir,†responded the guard.
“Open it,†said the officer.
“Very well,†shrugged Boots. Then, as he picked up the kettle, a strange looke
suddenly came over his face. She shook it. From within it came the unmistakable
dlink of several coins.
Feverishly he drew a key out of his wallet. In a moment he had unlocked the
padlock on the chain and drawn it, sliding through the handles, rattling, free.
He removed the lid from the kettle.
“Sly scamp, rotund rogue,†scolded the officer. “You have been holding out on
us.â€
Boots, his euyes wide, sorted through the coins in the pot.
“What is there?†asked the officer.
“Three tarsk bits,†said Boots, “—and five silver tarsks.â€
“Three silver tarsks for licensing fees, present and past, one for interest, and
one for the Master of Revels,†said the officer.
Boots counted out the coins and handed them to the officer.
“Is there nothing for myself and my men?†asked the officer.
Boots drew out the last silver tarsk out of his sleeve and, sheepishly, handed
it to the officer. I had not seen him place it there. He had done it very
skillfully.
The girl at my feet now held my leg in her arms and kissed at my leg,
whimpering.
“It seems a slave is ready for pleasure,†grinned the officer, looking at me.
“Perhaps,†I said, as though nonchalantly.
“The rack, Master,†she whimpered. “Please take me to a rack!â€
“I see that you wear the favor of a free woman,†observed the officer. He
referred to the rich, light, colorful scarf thrust through he eyelet of my
robes.
“Yes,†I said. I recalled the richly robed, veiled, wheedling free woman whom I
had permitted to place it there. What a churl I would have been, considering how
prettily she had begged, and she a free woman, not to have accepted it.
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“Take me to the rack, Master, please, I beg it!†said the girl at my feet.
“I see that you, too, have accepted the favor of a free woman,†I said.
“Yes,†he said, grinning. The favor he wore was different from mine, both in
border and color. In the game of Favors, of course, the favors are supposedly
unique to the given woman, in pattern, material, texture, color, shape,
decoration, and so forth. If they were not unique in this fashion they could not
act as practical counters in the game. Similarly, of course, they would be less
efficient in manifesting the results of the deeper competitions involved, those
competitions in which women desperately strive against one another, each to
prove themselves more desirable to men than the others. Each woman desires to be
more pleasing to men than the others. This is significant. It is in their
nature.
“It is interesting to me that free women play the game of Favors,†I said.
“It gives them a way of flirting,†he said. “Too it gives them an opportunity to
put themselves, in a way, at teh mercy of the male, to engage in petitioning
behaviour, suing for his indulgence. In this it is not difficult to see a form
of symbolic submission, a making of themselves dependent on his will. Too, of
course, it gives them a way of testing their desirability and publicly
procliaming, or advertising, it.â€
“luscious, vain creatures,†I observed. I myself had earlier speculated along
these lines. To be sure, the game of Favors, like most games, customs and
practices, was undoubtedly complex and multiply motivated. Too, sometimes things
take on additional meanings and values as they are enriched in a a historical
tradition ormore deeply or variously interpreted in different contexts.
“It also, of course, gives them a way of establishing ranking among themselves,â€
said the officer, “which is probably about the best they can do until they find
themselves enslaved, put naked on blocks and priced.â€
“I agree,†I said. That certain games, such as that of Favors, provided a
mechanism for establishing desirability ranking among females, something in
which they seemed much interested, seemed clear.
“What do you think of free women?†asked the officer.
“I didn’t know there were any, really,†I said. Goreans have a theory that there
are only two sorts of women, slaves and slaves.
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“You know what I mean,†he said.
“I suppose they are all right,†I said. They were all right, I supposed.
“Slaves are incomparably superior,†he said.
“That is true,†I said. There was no comparison.
“Please, Master, take me to a rack,†begged the girl at my feet.
Freedom, with its inhibitions, inertnesses and hostilities, tends to produce a
blockage to the emergence of the depth female. In bondage this blockage is
removed, freeing the woman to find her natural fulfillment, her fulfillment in
the order of nature, that of a slave at the feet of her master.
“Please, Master,†begged the girl. “I beg to be taken to a rack.â€
I pulled her by the arm to her feet.
“Happy carnival,†I said to the officer.
“Happy carnival,†said he.
“Happy carnival,†I said to Boots Tarsk-Bit.
“Happy carnival,†said he.
I thrust the slave ahead of me, and we pressed through the crowds. In a few Ehn
we had crossed the piazza and come to the racks. There were two sorts, refined,
adjustable strap racks, with beddings of flat, soft, criss-crossed straps, with
sturdy stud-and-eyelet securing straps, and simple net racks, little more than
sturdy wooden frames within which was slung a netlike webbing of rope. In these
riacks, if o
ne wishes to secure the woman within the webbing, simple cords are
used. There were also some trestles. I took the slave to one of the net racks.
The strap racks were all in use.
I saw the free woman who had worn the brief cloth about her hips near the racks.
I threw the slave on her belly on the netting and then turned her to her back. I
had her place her wrists and ankles through the netting in certain fashions. I
did not bother secure her in position. I then joined her on the netting. In
moments, gasping, looking at me wildly, gratefully, she was in the throes of
slave orgasm. To arouse a free woman to the point of orgasm, even the sort of
which she is capable, takes, usually, from a third to a quarter of an Ahn. The
reflexes of the slave, on the other hand, for psychological reasons, and because
of her training, can be much more easily, profoundly and frequently activated.
This is not really surprising. The free woman, after all is a free woman and the
slave is a slave.
page 64
“Buy me,†said the salve, intensely. “You have money. Buy me, please! I will
serve you well!â€
I kissed her, and withdrew from her; in a moment I stood beside the rack,
adjusting my robes.
“May I break position, Master?†she asked.
“Yes,†I said.
“She removed her hands and feet from the netting, slipped from the rack and came
to kneel before me. She put down her head and kissed my feet. The marks of the
rope, where she had lain on the netting, were on her body. She then looked up at
me. “I did not meaqn to be forward, before,†she said. “Please, forgive me. Beat
me, if you wish.â€
I lifted her to her feet, and kissed her. “It is all right,†I said.
She looked at me.
“Go, seek out your own master,†I said. “See that you give him even more
pleasure than you did me.â€
“Yes, Master,†she smiled, and turned, disappearing into the crowd. A slave’s
first duty it to her own master.
“Paga?†invitd a fellow, reeling by.
We exchanged swigs from our botas, I from his, he from mine.
I saw the free woman standing, watching, she with the frief bit of cloth about
her hips. I looked at her. It was interesting, I thought, that she had now come
to the vicinity of the pleasure racks. Our eyes met. I looked imperiously to the
rack. She shrank back, in terror. When I looked back again she was half crouched
over, her head in her hands, her body shaken with fear and sobs. I then left the
area of the racks. It was bout that time that I caught sight, once again, of
Henrius and Vina. In a small space, with Henrius and some men about, to the
music of some nearby musicians, the men clapping and keeping time, she was
dancing. She did well. She might have been a nude, leashed, harnessed street
dancer, one of the lowest forms of dancer on Gor. Soon, I suspected, Henrius
would take her to a rack, or perhaps back to his holding. she was an incredibly
lovely young slave, and loved him from the depths of her heart. Her perspiration
had run in trickles through the paint on her body. I watche dher for a moment.
How real and alive she was, the slave.
I turned away, troubled by some thought, but I could not, at the moment,
determine what it was. It ws now gowing late and I thought perhaps I should
consider returning to my holding. It was then that I recalled my earlier
conversation with Henrius. He had told me that someone was looking for me. I
wondered who thism ight be. Perhaps it had to do with Samos. Surely
page 65
Samos, the last time I had been in his holding, had been evasive. Someone wished
to see me, as I recalled, in Booth Seventeen. I turned my steps, curious as to
what might be involved, toward the purple booths. The purples booths are
normally maintaine3d by slavers, used as locations in which girls, usually
higher-quality slaves, more expensive merchandise, may be inspected and tried by
bonafide buyers or their agents. Such booths are usually set up in the
courtyards of slaver’s houses and at special times, generally in the
neighborhood of holidays and festivals. At other times, of course, such girls
may be examined and tested in private chambers in the slaver’s houses. The
purple booths set up now in the piazza, however, had to do with the time of
carnival. They were, in effect, good-will and promotional devices, donated to
the festivities, for the pleasures of free men, by the houses of various
slavers. The house of samos, for example, provided the first five booths, each
complete with its furnishings, including a charming occupant. His fifth booth,
as I had heard, contained the slave, Rowena. He wished to bring her along
quickly. As I recalled, he intended to soon sell her, with several others, at
the Fair of En’Kara, near the Sardar. Some men think that the girls in the
public purple booths are much the same as those vended from the private purple
booths on other occasions. Generally, however, as most men know, this is not the
case. For example, Rowena was a new slave. Thus, even though she was very
beautiful, she would probably not, in virtue of her inexperience, even be
considered for a private-booth showing for several months or a year. It takes
time for a girl to develop adequate skills.
I walked along the line of the booths until I came to Booth Seventeen. Most of
the booths had the curtains drawn, and the lining of the booths and curtains is
usually opaque. In two booths the threshold curtains were partly open. In one I
saw a slave, naked, writhing slowly in chains before a man, his hands upon her.
In another I saw a slave and her lover-master of the moment in one another’s
arms half oof the large, soft cushion on which the slave, customarily, kneeling,
in obeisance, greeets the booth’s entrant. Outside most of the booths two or
three men were waiting. Interestingly enough, on Booth Seventeen, there was a
sign pinned on the front of the booth, near the entrance curtain. It said,
“Closed.†The curtain itself was drawn shut, but it did not appear, from the
look of it, from its lack of tautness, to be secured from the inside. I looked
about. There were men about, some with carnival masks, but none seemed concerned
with this booth. I waited outside the booth for a few moments. Noone,
page 66
however, approached me. To be sure, I was supposed to meet the individual in
Booth Severnteen, according to what Henrius had been told. I wondered who had
spoken to him. I wondered if this matter had to do with Priest-Kings. To be
sure, it seemed mysterious. Any normal business, I supposed, would have been
conducted in more normal fashions.
I brushed aside the curtain and entered the booth, permitting the curtain, not
much drawn on its rings, to fall shut behind me. A small tharlarion-oil lamp lit
the interior of the booth. The booth was the only one furnished by the house of
Vart, once Publius Quintus of Ar, a minor slaver in Port Kar. I had not seen him
around outside. I wondered why the booth was closed. He had perhaps rented the
space to someone for an Ahn or so. Perhaps the whole matter was a mistake. On
the large cushion, sofr, and some five feet in diameter, toward the back of the
booth, there lay a small, lovely body. It was a tiny, luscious redhead. She lay
terribly still, extremely still. I approached her and, crouching down beside
her, put my fingertips to the side of her throat, by the collar. She was alive.
I puller her to a seated position on the cushion and smelled her mouth and lips,
and gently, carefully, delicately, touched her lips with my tongue. I detected
nothing. There was a smear of Ka-la-na wine at the left side of her mouth. Tassa
powder had doubtless been used on her. It is traceless, and effective. I did not
hting she would awaken for hours. The lamp flickered slightly. Her wrists had
been thonged behind her; her ankles, too, had been crossed and thonged. The
thongs were narrow, dark and tight. I put her back on the cusion.
I jerked my body suddenly to the side, to evade the grasping left arm, seeking
to hod the target in place for the short, low right-handed thrust of the knife,
or the throat attack, if the assailant was right-handed, and fo the assassins or
the warriors. The small tharlarion-oil lamp had been placed in such a way that
no shadow would be cast by it of a figure entering through the curtain. Warriors
notice such things. Too, in permitting the curtain to fallshut behind me, I had
not interfered with the antural closure of the booth. Had it not closed in this
fashion I would have adjusted it shut. It is difficult to move such a curtain,
heavy and lined as it is, customary in purple booths, without rustle of fabric,
or the scraping of one or more of the rings. Too, of course, the air in the
booth changes slightly as the curtain is moved, admitting it. The flame of the
tiny lamp had flickered, too, in this shifting of air. The knife and arm,
howeer, descending, passed over my body. The high stroke has various
page 67
disadvantages. It begins from farther back and thus makes it difficult to use
the left hand or arm to secure the target. It is easier to block. It does not
have the same power as the short blow. The blade that has only six inches to
move, with a full weight behind it, other things being equal, effects a deeper
penetration than a blade wich must move farther and has behind it primarily the
Norman, John - Gor 20 - Players of Gor.txt Page 9
