by John Norman
I returned to the back of the dancing floor, piteously, that I might sway before my master, he in the back, by the beaded curtain, gross, loathsome Hendow. He, I felt, of all those in the tavern, would understand what was now within me. I felt I could keep no secrets from him. It seemed he had a way of looking through me, and seeing whatever was within me, no matter how I might try to hide it. But I did not want to hide this from him. Rather I wanted his understanding. I wanted him to offer me comfort, or perhaps even rescue me from the floor. In my fears it was natural that I should seek him out, gross and loathsome though he might be. He was the one who owned me. He was my master.
Hendow nodded to me, almost imperceptibly. Then, pointing to me, and lifting his finger twice, he indicated I should turn away, and return to my dance, in the center of the floor, facing the crowd.
I knew the music was approaching its climax, and the dance must be concluded.
I then, in the coda of my performance, danced helplessness and beauty, and submission, surrendering myself as I, in my collar, must, into the hands and mercies of masters.
As the music concluded I performed floor movements, and the eyes of the men blazed, and fists pounded on the tables, and then the music was done and I lay before them on my back, my breasts rising and falling as I fought for breath, my body sheened with sweat, my hands beside me, palms up, my knees lifted slightly, my right knee highest, a slave before masters. I heard roars of triumph, shouts of pleasure. I was frightened. The men were on their feet. There was a thunder of applause, the striking of the shoulders in the Gorean fashion, and, too, the crashing of goblets on the tables. I crept to my knees in the bedlam. I became aware of Hendow standing near me now, and Mirus was to one side. "Back," called Hendow. "Back!" I felt small among the legs of the men. Mirus and Hendow, gently, were forcing men back, away from the floor. Then I was kneeling there, small, between them.
Mirus looked down upon me. Swiftly I pressed my lips fervently, placatingly, to his sandals. "Look up," said he. I looked up, frightened. Would I be punished for altering the dance?
"I did not think you could do better," he said. "I was wrong."
I regarded him, frightened. Would he then be angry? Would I be cuffed, or kicked?
"You did well," he said. "I am pleased."
I almost fainted with relief, and, gratefully, pressed my lips to his sandals. But then a girl is seldom punished for improving her service. Indeed, as I would later learn, girls are encouraged to be rich and creative in such matters.
I looked up from my knees at my master. "Is your belly still hot?" he asked.
I looked down, blushing. He had known, of course. "Not now, Master," I said.
"Well," he said, "you had better start heating it up again."
I turned crimson, my head down, kneeling there, scarcely able to believe what I had heard. To be sure, he was the proprietor of the tavern, and I was his.
I felt my head pulled up by the hair, a double handful of it grasped in Hendow's fist. I was almost pulled up, from my knees. "Did you like her?" he called to the crowd. Most of the men were still standing. There were no women in that crowd other than slaves. Women are on the whole not permitted in paga taverns, unless, of course, they wear collars.
"Yes! Yes!" cried several of the men.
"She will be a dancer in my tavern," said Hendow.
This intelligence was greeted with raucous enthusiasm, shouts, and the pounding of shoulders.
I shuddered.
"Come, see her often!" invited Hendow.
"Have no fear," called a fellow. There was laughter.
"But she is only one of several lovely dancers," said Hendow, "any one of whom is her superior or equal!"
I doubted that that was true.
"All of whom have been chosen to please your senses!"
I would grant the beast, my master, that.
"Come often to the tavern of Hendow," said Hendow, "for the finest paga in Brundisium, and the most beautiful paga slaves, wenches chosen for their luscious beauty and steaming bellies!"
I trembled. Not all paga slaves are tavern dancers, but all tavern dancers are paga slaves.
There was another round of cheering.
"The drawing!" called a man. "Let us have the drawing!"
Hendow nodded to Mirus, and Mirus summoned Aynur to the center of the floor, and near the front, with her copper bowl, laden with the halves of broken ostraka.
"Return to your seats!" called Hendow.
As the men sought their places Tupita, Sita and Ina came forward. Ina brought with her not only the flat, shallow box but a large towel as well. "Sit as you were before," ordered Tupita. I did so, leaning forward, my hands on the floor, my knees up, my right leg advanced. Sita removed the belt from me, with its double loop. Tupita began to take the anklets and bracelets from me, putting them in the box. "Treasure your silly virginity," said Tupita, "for you will not have it long." "Red-silk slut!" I said to her, angrily, adding, "Mistress." "By tomorrow," said Tupita, "you, too, will be only a red-silk slut."
"You were beautiful tonight," said Ina.
"Thank you," I said, "Mistress."
With a jangle and shimmering of metal pieces the cord belt, in its length, was dropped by Sita into the box.
Aynur shook the bowl of ostraka. She stirred the contents with her two hands. Delving deeply into the bowl she lifted up handfuls of ostraka again and again, each time letting them fall like showers back into the bowl.
Mirus and Hendow observed her doing this.
The last bracelet was deposited in the box. Sita was lifting the strands of slave beads from my neck, placing them, too, in the box.
"That is enough," said Hendow.
"Yes, Master," said Aynur, desisting mixing ostraka.
I trembled, for the moment of the drawing drew near. Sita lifted the last strand of slave beads from about my neck and put it in the box. Ina, then, began to dry my body, from the sweat of the dance.
I felt very naked then, without even the beads to cover me. "Will I not be given the white sheet again?" I asked Ina.
"No," she said, "the time of the white sheet for you is over."
"Let me keep a strand of beads," I begged.
"No," said Ina. "Your use master, in handling you, might break them."
"Oh," I said, frightened.
"Too," she said, "we would not want anything to stand between you and your use master when he presses you in his arms."
"No," I whispered, frightened.
"Now you are as nude as any slut," said Tupita, jerking down on the ribbon on my collar, ascertaining that its fixture there was suitably snug.
I saw Mirus, near the front of the floor, draw a red ribbon from his wallet. It was identical in size and shape to the white ribbon I wore on my collar. My use master, I gathered, when he was finished with me, would change the ribbons. This would be significatory of the alteration in my status, informing anyone who might look upon it that I had now been opened. He also had in one hand the attestation paper. There was a place at the bottom of the paper where a streak of blood, mine, might be smeared.
"Who shall choose the lucky ostrakon?" called Hendow.
"The slave!" cried a man.
"The slave! The slave!" cried others.
"Very well!" said Hendow.
I moaned.
Hendow approached me.
"Please, Master," I begged him.
But I saw him draw forth from his belt a half hood. This covers the head to the upper lip.
It was put over my head and drawn back, tightly, and buckled shut. I then heard a lock snapped through rings. It was locked on me, in place. I could not see under the device, at all. In this respect it differed from imperfect blindfolds and resembled the full slave hood. Similarly, although it is usually regarded as inferior to the full slave hood in its security, it tends to be more secure than many blindfolds, particularly makeshift ones, seized up from materials at hand. For example, unlike many blindfolds, it, and in this respec
t it is similar to the full slave hood, is not likely to become dislodged or loose, even if the girl is handled with great roughness. It does, however, of course, possess certain of the rich and attractive advantages of the blindfold, such as allowing its fair captive to speak, to use her tongue, to lick, to kiss, and so on.
"Please, Master," I begged. "Do not make me choose!"
"Do you question me?" he inquired.
"No, Master!" I said, hastily. I moaned. I must choose my own rapist.
I felt myself drawn to my feet, and, by the upper left arm, pulled forward, half dragged, to the copper bowl. There I was knelt, and my hands were placed on the ostraka.
"Mix them further, slut," said Hendow.
Obediently, doubtless as the men watched intently, I stirred them about. I felt them in my hands. They had numbers on them, I knew.
"Dig about," said Hendow. "Sift through them. Pick some up, then let them fall through your fingers."
I obeyed.
"Now," said he, "choose one."
I lifted my head in the half hood to him, piteously, my lip trembling.
I heard nothing, no reprieve, no rescue. This was not such a world. Here I was a slave, ineradicably, and truly.
I held my head level, although I could see nothing. I thrust my hand into the ostraka, and closed my fingers on one. I lifted it before me. I felt someone, doubtless Hendow, pull it from my hand.
"One hundred and seventy-seven!" he called.
There were cries of good-natured protest, sounds of disappointment. "No!" cried more than one man.
"One hundred and seventy-seven," he repeated.
"There!" called Mirus. "There!"
Someone must have been getting up.
"Hold up the ostrakon!" called Mirus. "Let us all see it!"
"He has it, all right!" called a man, from somewhere out there in the front. There were groans of mock anguish in the house, and laughter, and applause.
"Come forward, Sir," invited Mirus. "Claim your prize."
"Take her well, for me!" called a fellow several yards away.
"Make her jump, for me!" laughed another, closer.
I sensed someone coming forward, others perhaps about him, slapping him about the shoulders and back.
There was applause.
"Here, Sir," said Mirus, at my side, "is your prize."
In the hood I could see nothing. I was frightened.
I then gasped, surprised. I felt myself being lifted to the shoulder of a man. He was very strong.
"Use the Ubar's alcove," said Mirus. "I will bring the attestation and ribbon."
I was helpless on his shoulder.
"Lucky sleen!" called a man.
The Ubar's alcove, I knew, was well fitted with a variety of chains and whips.
I felt myself being carried toward it.
"Make her squeak and yell!" called a man.
I was being carried as a slave is often carried, my head to the rear.
"There is only one who is first," called Hendow, "but we will draw forth fourteen more ostraka!"
There was a cheer.
I did not understand this. I was helpless on the man's shoulder.
"Then there will be a free round of paga for all!" he said.
This generosity was greeted with another cheer.
I felt the man step up, over the high threshold of the alcove. He then put me down on soft furs, on my back, within the alcove.
"Here is the paper, and the ribbon," said Mirus.
I heard the movement of paper. Then Mirus, I gathered, withdrew. I heard a paper being put to one side. I then heard the leather curtains of the alcove being drawn closed, and buckled shut. Within the alcove I supposed there would be some light, probably from the small tharlarion-oil lamp on its bracketed shelf, on the wall to the left, as one enters. I did not know, of course. In the hood, I could see nothing. I heard his garment being cast aside. I supposed the lamp would be lit, that there would be light for him. Men usually like to have some light in such a place, that in its soft glow they may see how beautiful are the slaves. Such alcoves, incidentally, are quite comfortable. They are not close, or stuffy. In them there is a subtle but efficient circulation of air. Air, for example, can enter at the threshold, in the vicinity of the curtain, rise, and exit through various inconspicuous vent holes, generally high in the walls. I wondered, if there were light, if I looked pleasing to him, lying on the furs. I gasped, as he knelt across my body. I had never had a man do this before. I could not move. I felt my hands pulled up and snapped into manacles, apart, at the sides of my head. His knees were on either side of my body. I pulled a little at the manacles and chains. I was chained! I felt terrified, and trapped, as indeed I was. I had been chained before, many times, of course, in my training. But this was not training! Then to my surprise he drew back from me, crouching then, or kneeling, I think, beside me. He was on my right. I shuddered. I had felt his body. I turned to my left side, away from him, as I could, and drew my knees up, as closely as I could, to my belly. I whimpered, as I understood that this, too, exposed me as a slave to him, but I did not know what to do! It seemed, suddenly, that all my training had fled from me, that it had gone from me, that I could remember nothing. I felt his hands take my ankles, one in each hand, and, by means of them, not gently, he turned me again to my back, and then flung apart my legs. I lay there then, in this attitude before him, helpless in the chains, and the darkness of the hood. He had not spoken to me, nor I to him. I did not realize this at the time but he would not do so either, nor would the others, unsuspected by me at this time, who would follow him this night. By custom my initial ravishings as a paga slave in Brundisium would be performed in anonymity. This custom is dictated by considerations similar to those involved in the hooding of mating slaves, considerations having to do with the preclusion of interpersonal complications. I heard a whip being removed from the wall. I lay there, trembling. I grasped the chains, above the manacles. I did not want to be lashed! But the whip was thrust to my lips. Eagerly, lifting my head, I licked and kissed the whip. I did not want it used on me. My ardor in this matter, and this explicit expression of my understanding of what I was, a slave, may, I suspect, have mollified him to some extent. For he then, delicately, gently, tested me. He grunted, surprised.
"Yes, Master," I said. "I am a virgin!"
He then seemed to have drawn back for a time, perhaps kneeling there, thinking. I do not think, now, he had believed that I was really a virgin, in spite of the attestation, and such, and I do not think either that my virginity had really been of great interest to him, whether or not it was actual. He had been angry, I now think, that I had been behaving in a timid, or virginal, fashion with him, perhaps to secure some gentleness of treatment, when I was not really a virgin at all. Perhaps mollified then to some extent by my placatory behavior in kissing the whip he had decided to take the time to make test of my virginity rather than simply and with terrible force utilizing me, moving aside whatever obstacle, if any, might have attempted to impede the progression of his mastery.
"Master?" I asked.
To my surprise, then, I felt a shackle put on my left ankle. He then removed the manacles which had been on my wrists. I heard the whip cast to the side.
"Master?" I asked. I knelt, rubbing my wrists.
He then, apparently crouching near me, took me with extreme gentleness into his arms. I began to tremble. I felt his lips at the left side of my neck, above the steel collar locked there. "I am afraid, Master," I whispered.
He soothed me with a kiss on the shoulder. I was grateful, but, too, I could feel the heat of his breath there, it making me uneasy, and disturbing me, and I could sense the strength of his arms.
"Oh, Master," I sobbed. "Master!"
One of his hands was behind my back. With the other hand he indicated I should rise up a bit, and I did so, and he placed that hand then behind my knees. He then, lifting me, and gently inclining me backwards, supporting me with his hand behind my back, lowe
red me gently to the furs. I then lay there, on my back, in the hood, before him.
I felt his hands lift up my right ankle, that which did not wear the shackle. I felt his lips on my ankle. His hands were very strong. I tried to pull back a bit, uneasily, but could not do so. He continued to hold my ankle, and kiss my leg. I moved my left ankle, in its shackle. I heard the tiny sounds of the links of the chain, running between the shackle and its ring. I pulled back my left ankle, and lifted it, frightened, alarmed by the sensations I was beginning to feel, and learned what limitations had been placed on its movements, imposed by the metal impedimenta whose prisoner it was. I could not leave the alcove of course, but I had been permitted slack, enough to kick, it seems, as in the throes of passion or, helplessly, as though to hold on for dear life, to clench my legs about a master's legs or, if I were pulled down, closer to the ring, his body. His touches and kisses were now disturbing me, but he was very gentle.
"Oh, Master!" I said.
The flesh behind the knee and above it is very sensitive.
He was patient.
"Thank you, Master," I said, gratefully.
Over the next quarter of an hour or so he also addressed his attentions to my other leg, but desisted in his ministrations when he had come midway up the interior of my thighs.
"Master!" I breathed.
Then he was kissing my hands, their backs, and kissing and licking in the palms, and then moving up the interiors of the wrists, and forearms. In another quarter of an hour or so, he had come again to my neck, near the collar, where he had first kissed me, and then, slowly, kissed my shoulders. I lay there, frightened, wanting to respond. I sensed his lips near mine, by the feel of his breath. I lifted my head a little, and kissed him, timidly, gratefully. Then I felt his head, and hair, below my chin. "Ohh," I said. Then he kissed, and licked, and caressed me about the sides, and back. "Ah," he said, appreciatively. I was not really responding to him, or at least in no overt way I was really aware of, but I think he did not really mind this, or, at the time, expect anything much different. I think he did find me beautiful. And I think he took pride in the simple handling of such a slave.
