"A good buy," said one of his men.
"Yes," he said.
He looked down into her eyes. "I think I shall call you `Sabina,'" he said.
She started. "Master?" she asked. She looked at me. But I was confused. I had not spoken her secret to anyone.
"Is it not a lovely name for a slave?" he asked.
"Yes, Master," she said. "It is a lovely name for a slave."
"You little she-sleen," he laughed, seizing her by the arms, "do you not think I know who you once were?"
"Master?" she asked.
"You were once Sabina, the daughter of Kleomenes," he laughed, "once promised to me in Companion Contract."
She looked at him, wildly.
"Now, of course, you are only a slave," he said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"When the Companionship was under consideration by the Council of the Confederation," he said, "I slipped away, on tarn, to Fortress of Saphronicus. I spied on you, to see if you pleased me."
"Pleased!" she cried. It is beneath the dignity of a free woman to please a man. Slave girls please men.
"Yes," he said.
"It must have been difficult," she said, "for you to tell, I clothed in the robes of concealment, if I pleased you."
"You recall your quarters," he asked, "and the window, high in the wall."
"Yes," she said.
"It may be reached by a rope, from the roof," he said.
She gasped.
"You were quite beautiful in your bath," he said.
She looked down, confused, blushing.
"Is a slave modest?" he asked.
"No, Master," she said. Then she looked up at him, shyly. "Did you find me pleasing, truly?" she asked.
"Yes, quite," he said. "The girl, Marla, too, and the others," he said, "were also quite beautiful."
"Yes," she said. "My serving slaves were beautiful." She looked up at him. "Were they more beautiful than I?" she asked.
"Not to me," he said.
"I am pleased," she said.
"You can well understand my dilemma," he said. "Seeing you I wanted you. You were one of those women who is so feminine and attractive that a man finds it difficult to think of you in terms other than jealous ownership. I wanted to own you. I wanted you at my feet naked, in my collar. Yet you were intended to be my companion. How could one relate to a girl as feminine and beautiful as you, I ask you, other than as a master to a slave?"
"I do not know," she said.
"Besides," he said, "you were only of the merchants. It is unseemly for a Warrior to take as a companion the daughter of a merchant. I detest the politics which seemed to make such a match expedient. Surely I was not consulted in the negotiations."
"No, Master," she said. "Nor was I," she added, pointing this out.
"But you are a woman," he said.
"That is true," she said.
"The daughters of merchants," he said, "are fit only to be the slaves of Warriors."
"Oh, Master?" she asked, archly.
"Yes," he said, evenly, regarding her.
"Yes, Master," she said, dropping her eyes.
"Besides," he said, "you, free, were an arrogant she-sleen. You needed enslaving, collaring and whipping."
"Yes, Master," she said, frightened.
"I resolved to refuse the companionship," said Thandar of Ti. "I resolved to flee the city." He grinned. "As it turned out," he said, "that was not necessary."
"How did master find me?" she asked.
"There is a fellowship among Warriors," he said. Clitus Vitellius smiled.
"Thank you, Master," said Slave Beads, now Sabina, to Clitus Vitellius.
He nodded, accepting her thanks.
Sabina, the slave, turned again to face Thandar of Ti, looking up at him. "You have found me," she said. "You own me." There were tears in her eyes. "I had hoped," she said, "that my identity might have remained unknown to you."
"Why?" he asked, puzzled.
She looked down, confused. She shook her head.
"Why?" he asked.
"Must I speak?" she asked.
"You are a slave," he said angrily. "Speak."
She looked up at him, boldly, tears in her eyes. "Because," she said, "I wanted you to keep me as a slave!" She looked down again, confused. "I sense," she said, "that you are my true master, and I am your true slave."
The men looked at one another, cognizing well the confession of the small, beautiful slave.
"Too," she said, "I did not wish my fate, known, to dishonor you."
"That the flank of a merchant's daughter has met the iron cannot dishonor me," said Thandar of Ti.
"I see that it cannot," she said, a bit angrily. But it was true. What is it on Gor that a girl is caught and branded, and made a slave?
"But now, in honor, knowing my fate," she said, "you must free me."
"Oh?" he said.
"Yes," she said. "You will now free me, and once again the plans of Fortress of Saphronicus and the Salerian Confederation will proceed as before. I, freed, will be repledged to you in Companionship. Matters then, regardless of our wishes, will be as they were before."
Thandar of Ti laughed. Clitus Vitellius smiled.
"Master?" she asked.
How beautiful she looked, naked before him, in his bracelets.
"A fine brand," said Thandar of Ti, surveying her thigh.
"Now that you know who I am," she said, "you must free me."
He turned her head from side to side. "And pierced ears," he said.
"Surely you are going to free me," she said.
"You are the daughter of a merchant," he said. "The daughters of merchants are fit only to be the slaves of warriors."
"You are going to free me!" she cried.
"Kneel to be collared," he said.
"Master!" she cried.
"Bring a whip," he said to one of his men.
Swiftly she knelt. The whip would not be necessary. Sabina, the slave, looked up at Thandar of Ti, astonishment in her eyes, and wonder and love. She knew then the nature of the man, and his strength, who owned her.
"Bring the collar," said Thandar of Ti to one of his men.
The collar, from his belongings, was brought.
"I have found a slave who pleases me," he said. "I am collaring her."
He cared naught for the politics of cities, nor did he fear the wrath of states. He was a warrior.
He stepped behind the girl and, in the manner of Ti and certain other cities, thrust down her head and held ready the opened collar.
"Submit," he said.
"I submit myself, totally, Master," she said.
Roughly he shut the collar, enclosing her lovely throat in the obdurate band of slave steel. He then, with his foot, spurned her to the floor.
"Throw me among your women, Master," she begged.
"I shall," he said. He then turned away and strode from the tavern.
But I had little doubt the lovely Sabina would be his preferred slave.
One of Thandar of Ti's men sought out Busebius, and made settlement of the bill.
"He is keeping me as a slave," said Sabina to me, elatedly. "How strong and marvelous he is! I fear only I will not be able to love him enough!"
I kissed her. It is difficult for a girl not to esteem a man who does as he pleases, even though it is to her that it be done. A woman admires strength, especially if it is used to dominate and control her. It is, it seems, for men to command and women to obey, for men to dominate and women to submit, for men to claim and for women to yield. It is, it seems, the way of primate nature. Its test is enactment; its proof is joy; its evidence is love. If we have lost this, we have lost part of ourselves.
"I wish you well," cried Sabina. "I wish you all well!"
"I wish you well!" I cried.
The others, too, paga girls in the tavern, wished her well.
Thandar of Ti's men went to the portal of the tavern. One of them turned about. "Will it be necessa
ry to leash you, Slave?" he asked.
"No, Master!" cried Sabina, and hurried to follow them. We watched them leave the tavern.
"It is time," said Clitus Vitellius, "for us to he on our way to the Curulean."
I reached out, timidly, to touch him. "Please, Master," I begged.
He looked at me, almost tenderly. I thought him sad. "Very well," he said.
He indicated that I should precede him to one of the alcoves.
I entered the alcove, and slipped away the street tunic. He closed the curtain behind us.
"Many times," I said, lightly, "I pleased the customers of Busebius in this very alcove."
He took me in his arms. It startled me, for he touched me gently.
"I shall miss you, Dina," he said.
"There are many girls," I said.
"Yes," he said, "there are many girls."
"You will soon forget me," I said.
He brushed my hair with his hand. "Your hair," he said, "will be too short, I wager, until the spring."
"Doubtless," I said, "it will lower my price."
He kissed me.
"Will you come to see me in the exhibition cages?" I asked. In most markets girls are displayed publicly in exhibition cages prior to their sale. This is almost always the case in the Curulean.
"No," he said.
"Oh," I said.
He kissed me, again, softly, tenderly.
"Keep me!" I begged suddenly.
"No," he said.
I tried not to cry.
"It is strange," he said, "I have faced wild sleen and the steel of fierce enemies. I am a warrior, and am high among warriors. Yet you, a mere girl, would conquer me with a smile and a tear."
"No, Master," I said.
"Surely you must understand," he said.
"A slave girl requires no explanation," I said. "It is hers only to obey."
"You see," he said, angrily. "You make me weak!"
"Then conquer me," I said.
"You are different from all the others!" he said, angrily.
"Yet I am only a slave," I said. "Treat me as such!"
"You should be tied at the slave ring and whipped," he said.
"Tie me at the ring," I said. "Whip me!"
"A warrior," he said, "must be hard and fierce."
"Be hard and fierce with me," I said.
"You want to be conquered and enslaved, don't you, you slut?" he said.
"Yes," I said. "I am a woman."
He sat up beside me; "How you must despise my weakness," he said.
"Yes," I said, angrily. "I despise your weakness."
He looked at me, in fury.
"I love you," I said.
He slapped aside my head, bringing blood to my mouth. "Lying slave," he said.
Then he seized me, and well vented his anger upon me. I was well used.
When he had finished with me, he said, "Get up. We must go to the Curulean."
I slipped the tunic on, and sashed it, and, one by one, by the five buttons, closed it. I wished he had torn it open and would march me through the streets as an exposed slave, that other girls might see the strength of the man who owned me.
We left the tavern and made our way to the Curulean, to a back entrance.
I looked at the stout iron door, behind which I would be sold.
"We must enter," he said to me.
"Do with me what you want," I said to him.
"I am," he said.
"Are you?" I asked.
"Yes," he said.
I looked up at him.
"I am a warrior," he said. "I cannot be weak."
"You are weak now," I said.
"No," he said.
"I despise your weakness," I said.
"How am I weak?" he asked.
"You do not want to sell me," I said. "Yet you are doing so."
"I do want to sell you," he said.
"Look at me," I said.
He regarded me.
"What do you see?" I asked.
"A slave girl," he said.
"What now," I asked, "do you truly want to do with me?"
"Sell you," he said.
"No," I said. "You want me in your compartments. You want me at your feet. You want me in your collar. You want not to sell me, but to master me, to own me."
"I want many things from you," he said.
"Then command them, take them," I challenged. "Did you trace me to Ar, and follow me to Cos, to sell me?"
He looked angry.
"No," I said. "You wanted me slave, naked on your chain."
"Yes!" he said, angrily. "I wanted you a naked slave on my chain, mine!"
"Strip me!" I cried. "Chain me!"
"No," he said.
I subsided. "Sell me," I said wearily. "The decision is yours. I am slave."
He pounded on the iron door.
"I had thought Clitus Vitellius strong," I said. "I had thought him of the Warriors. I had thought he had the power to do as he wills with a woman. I see now he is too weak to do with a woman what truly he wants, what pleases him."
He struck again on the iron door.
"He is weak," I said. "A slave despises him."
"Do not make me angry," he said.
I looked away. I had nothing to fear from him.
I heard feet approaching the iron door, from the other side. A small, lateral panel in the door, about eye level, slid back. "Your business?" inquired a voice.
"The vending of a girl," said Clitus Vitellius.
The panel slid shut. A moment later the door swung open. "Enter, Master," said a man.
We entered and found a large room, floored with cement. A yellow circle, in outline, narrow-bordered, the border some six inches in width, the circle itself some ten feet in width, was painted on the cement. A man, at a small, four-legged table, sat to one side. "Remove her tunic and collar," he said. Clitus Vitellius did so. We did not speak.
"Kneel in the circle, Slave," said the man at the table. The fellow who had opened the door stood to one side. A coiled, rawhide rope, on a clip, hung from his belt. I went to the circle and knelt in its center, on the cement. The man with the rope entered the circle and loosed the rope from his belt. He tied it about my neck. The knot was at the side, under my left ear. He backed away, giving me some five feet of slack..The remainder of the rope he held, in long, loose loops, in his right hand. I knew it would serve to whip me, if necessary.
I would be put through slave paces.
"Give me whatever you think she is worth," he said, "and send the coins to the compartments of Clitus Vitellius, in the Towers of Warriors."
"Yes, Master," said the man at the table.
Clitus Vitellius turned about and left the Curulean.
I knelt alone in the yellow circle on the cement.
I felt the rope on my throat pull taut. I sensed the swinging loops of leather near me.
The man rose from behind the table and came to the circle. He looked down at me. "Well now, little beauty," he said, "let us see what you can do."
"Yes, Master," I said.
28
What Occurred At The Curulean
The first time that one is sold it is the hardest. Yet it is, I suppose, never easy. The hardest part is perhaps not knowing who it is, among those many faces in the darkness, who will buy you. You are illuminated, exhibited, forced to perform. At your side is the auctioneer with his whip. You perform, and perform well. Do not think you would not. You feel the wood of the block with your feet, and the sawdust upon it. The block itself is smooth. Many girls have been sold here before. You are not special, you are only another slave, a bit more or less pleasing than others. You feel the sawdust with your feet. On Gor, animals are commonly sold on blocks which are strewn with sawdust. The slave girl is an animal. You lift your head under the torchlight. You hear the first bid. it is hard not to tremble. You have been bid upon. From the voice you try to guess the nature of the master. Then there is another bid. You smile, you turn, you wa
lk, you lift your arms, you kneel, you lie upon your back at the auctioneer's feet, your knee lifted, your arms over your head as though braceleted, you roll to your stomach, you look up at him, over your shoulder; you respond to him, instantly, setting forth for the view of the buyers subtle and provocative positions and attitudes, displaying yourself as you must, fully, and as a slave. You are sweating. Sawdust clings to your body. It clings in your hair. If you falter, or are in the least displeasing, the auctioneer's whip will sharply instruct you in your error. At last, breathing heavily, you stand there, naked. Perhaps you have been struck.
John Norman - Gor 11 Page 58
