Captive of Gor

10 What Transpired in the Hut

The large-eyed, furred thing blinked at me.

"Do not be afraid," said a voice.

The animal was fastened to a ring in the wall by a stout, spiked leather collar, fastened to a heavy chain.

I stood with my back to the opposite wall of the hut, shrinking against it, terrified. I felt the rough boards at my back. my head was lifted and back, eyes wide. The back of my head pressed back against the boards. I felt the boards, too, pressed against the fingertips of my bound hands. I could not breathe. The beast looked at me, and yawned. I saw the two rows of white fangs. Then, sleepily, it began to nibble at the fur of its right paw, grooming it. I saw that the chain was short, that it would not reach even to the center of the room.

"Do not be afraid," again said the voice.

I took a breath, with difficulty.

Across the room, his back to me, bending over a shallow pan of water, with a towel about his neck, was a small man. He turned to face me. His face was still the painted clown's face, but he had put aside his silly robes, the tufted hat. He wore a common Gorean male house tunic, rough and brown, with leggings, such as are sometimes worn by woodsmen, who work in brush.

"Good evening," he said.

I shuddered. I did not move.

His voice seemed different now, no longer the voice of the comical mountebank. Too, somehow the voice seemed familiar to me, but I could not recall if, or where, I had once heard it. I knew only that I was terribly frightened. He turned again to the pan of water on the table and began to wash the paint from his face.

I could not take my eyes from the beast.

It regarded me, sleepily, and returned to the grooming of its paw.

It seemed incredibly huge, even more so in the small hut then earlier outside of Targo's compound. It was like a glistening, somnolent, boulder of fur, alive, hundreds of pounds in weight. The eyes were large, black, round, the snout wide, two-nostriled and leathery. I shuddered at its mouth, and fangs, the upper two protruding downwards at the sides of its jaws. Its lips were wet from the saliva from its long, dark tongue, which, with its teeth, it was using to groom the fur on its right paw. The strike of those jaws could, with one wrenching twist, have torn away the shoulder of a man.

I trembled, terrified, my back pressed against the rough boards.

Elinor Brinton, trembled, terrified, naked and bound, her back pressed against the rough boards, a cowering slave girl.

"Good evening, Miss Brinton," said the man. He had spoken in English. "You!" I cried.

"Hello, Cookie," he said.

"You! I whispered. It was the smaller man, one of those who had originally captured, and had bound me on my own bed in the penthouse. It was he who had entered the syringe in my right side, in the back, between my waist and hip, drugging me. It was he who had touched me intimately, who had been warned away from me by the larger man. It was he who had taken my matches and cigarettes, who had leaned over me, and had blown smoke, as I had lain nude before him, bound and gagged, into my face.

His ferret eyes regarded me, looking me over.

"You're a pretty little cookie," he said.

I could not speak. "Kajira!" he snapped in Gorean. Every muscle in my body tensed. He suddenly snapper his fingers and, in the swift double gesture of a Gorean master, pointed to a place on the dirt floor before him, almost simultaneously turning his hand, spreading his first and index fingers, pointing downwards. I fled to him and knelt before him, my knees in the dirt, in the position of the pleasure slave, my head down, trembling.

"It is interesting," he mused, "the effect of slavery on a woman."

"Yes, Master," I whispered.

"Excellent," he said.

"The proud, arrogant, rich Miss Brinton," he remarked, speaking in English. "No, Master," I whispered, in English.

"Are you not Miss Brinton?" he asked.

"Yes," I whispered, "I am Elinor Brinton."

"What is she?" he asked.

"Only a Gorean slave," I said.

"I never thought to have you at my feet," he said.

"No, Master," I whispered.

"It is not unpleasant," he said.

"No, Master," I whispered.

He went to a side of the room and picked up a small bench, which he brought forward and set before me. He then sat on this bench and, for some time, regarded me. I did not move.

Then he rose from the bench and went again to the side of the room, where there was a pile of cut logs. He took one and put it on the fire at the side of the room, in a shallow, rimmed stone hearth. There was a shower of sparks. Smoke found its way upward through a rudely fitted stone venting.

I was tense, frightened. I did not move. He returned and sat again before me. Then he said, "Stand."

Immediately I leaped to my feet. "Turn," he said.

I did so.

To my surprise, he unbound my wrists. My hands were numb. I could scarcely move my fingers.

He sat on the bench, and I stood before him. I rubbed my wrists and moved my fingers, trying to restore their circulation.

He did not speak to me.

I stood before him for a long time.

"Step back," he said.

Terrified, because it brought me nearer the beast, I did so, trembling. "Attack!" he shouted in Gorean to the beast.

It howled and lunged for me, jaws snapping, great black, furred arms gasping. I screamed hysterically and found myself in the corner of the room, screaming, wedged in the corner, on my knees, my hands in front of me, scratching at the boards with my fingernail, weeping, screaming and weeping.

"Do not be afraid," he said.

I screamed and screamed.

"Do not be afraid," he repeated.

"What do you want with me!" I cried. "What do you want with me!" I shuddered, and shook with tears, and fear. "What do you want with me?" I begged. "What do you want with me?"

"Miss Brinton," he said, kindly.

I tried to breathe.

"Goreans are barbarians," he said. "They have compromised your modesty." His voice was solicitous, apologetic, concerned, kindly.

Numbly I turned to face him.

He stood near the bench. In his arms he held a red-silk full-length, belted lounging robe, with a high, throat-inclosing figured, brocade collar. "Please," he invited.

I approached him numbly, and turned. He held the robe for me, as might have an escort. He helped me slip it on. "It's mine," I whispered. I remembered the robe.

"It was yours," he said.

I looked at him. What he said was true. I could own nothing. It was rather I, who was owned.

I belted the robe.

"You are lovely," he commented.

I fastened the high, figured, brocade collar about my throat.

I regarded him, once again my own woman.

"Yes," he said, "you are very lovely, Miss Brinton."

I watched him as he went again to the side of the room, and brought forward a small table, and another small bench. He gestured that I should join him at the table. He seated me.

I sat at the table, and watched him as he threw another log on the fire. Again there was a shower of sparks, and the smoke climbing upward toward the venting. The beast now lay curled in its place, on straw. Its eyes were closed, but it did not seem to be asleep. It would move occasionally, or yawn or change its position.

"Cigarette?" asked the man.

I looked at him. "Yes," I whispered.

He produced two cigarettes from a flat, golden case. They were my brand. With a small match, he lit my cigarette for me, and then his. He threw the match into the fire.

I fumbled with the cigarette. My hand shook.

"Are you nervous?" he asked.

"Return me to Earth!" I whispered.

"Are you not puzzled as to why you were brought to this world?" he asked. "Please!" I begged.

He regarded me.

"I will pay you anything," I whispered.

"Money?" he asked.

"Yes!" I said. "Yes!"

"Money is unimportant," he said.

I looked anguished.

"Smoke your cigarette," he said. I drew on the cigarette.

"Were you startled the morning you awakened and found yourself branded?" he inquired.

"Yes," I whispered. My hand inadvertently touched the mark on my thigh, under my robe.

"Perhaps you are curious as to how it was done?"

"Yes," I whispered.

"The device," said he, "is not much larger than this." He indicated the small, flat box of cigarettes. "A handle, containing the heating element, is fixed into the back of the marking surface. It switches on and off, much like a common flashlight." He smiled at me. "It generates a flesh-searing heat in five seconds."

"I felt nothing," I said.

"You were fully anesthetized," he said.

"Oh," I said.

"I personally think a girl should be fully conscious when being branded," he said.

I looked down.

"The psychological impact is more satisfactory," he said.

I could say nothing.

"Salve was applied to the wound. It healed quickly and cleanly. You went to bed a free woman." He looked at me, unpleasantly. "You awakened a Kajira." "The collar?" I asked.

"You were lying unconscious before the mirror," he said. "We re-entered your apartment by means of the terrace." He smiled. "It is not hard to collar a girl."

I recalled the collar had been later removed at the location referred to as point P, before the black ship had fled the earth, through the gray skies of that August dawn.

The man who had removed the collar had said that doubtless I would have another. I shoved the cigarette irritably down on the table, breaking it, grinding it out.

I knew that I could be collared, when it pleased a man to do so.

"May I have another cigarette?" I asked. "Of course," he said, and solicitously, as I bent forward, he lit me another.

I drew on the fresh cigarette. "Do you often bring women to this world as slave?" I asked.

"Yes," he said, "and sometimes men, too, if it should serve our purposes." "I see," I said.

I was irritated.

I remembered the two men thrusting me into the narrow, transparent slave capsule, in its rack, its lid being screwed shut. I remembered my pressing my hands against its sides, the beginning of the flight from Earth, the sedating gases.

I had indeed been brought to this world as a slave.

We smoked together for some time without speaking.

I remember awakening, lying in a Gorean field, some hundred yards or so from the black wreckage of the slavers' ship. I remembered, too, that on Earth, at the location called point P, before I had boarded the ship, a heavy steel anklet, doubtless an identification device of some sort, had been locked on my left ankle. When I had awakened in the field, it had been gone.

I looked at him. "Why was I brought to this world?" I asked.

"We bring many women to this world," he remarked, "because they are beautiful, and it pleases us to make them slaves."

I regarded him.

"Also, of course," he said, "they are valuable. They may be distributed or sold, as we please, to further our ends or increase our profits."

"Was I brought to this world as such a girl?" I asked.

"It may interest you to know," he said, "that you were marked for abduction at the age of seventeen. In the intervening years we watched you carefully, maturing into a spoiled, rich, highly intelligent, arrogant young woman, exactly the sort that, under whip and collar, becomes a most exquisite slave." I drew on the cigarette, in fury. "So I was simply brought to Gor to be a female slave?" I asked. "Let us say," he remarked, carefully, "you have been bought to Gor as a female slave, regardless."

"Regardless?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

"I do not understand," I said.

"We lost you briefly," he said. His eyes clouded. "The ship crashed," he explained.

"I see," I said.

"After the crash," he said, "we detected the approach of an enemy craft. We abandoned our ship and scattered, fleeing with our cargo."

"But," said I," was I not part of youra€“yourcargo?"

His eyes narrowed. I could tell he would choose his words carefully. "We have enemies," he said. "We did not wish you to fall into their hands. We feared pursuit. We removed yours identification anklet and hid you in the grass, some distance from the ship. Then with the other girls, we fled, intending to rendezvous later, if possible, and return for you. There was, however, no pursuit. The enemy apparently content only to destroy the ship. When we returned there was little more than a crater. You, of course, were gone.

"How did you find me?" I asked.

"As an unprotected female on Gor, particularly a beautiful one, there was little doubt that the first male you encountered would make you his slave." I looked down, irritated.

"I went to Laura," he said, "it is the largest city in the area. I expected that it would be there that you would be put up for sale."

"And you would have bought me?" I said.

"Yes," he said. "Simple." He smiled. "But, unfortunately for us, your capture was effected by slavers, and they wished to take you south for a better price. Accordingly we used panther girls. Verna and her band, to acquire you." He smiled again. "It was, incidentally, must less expensive."

I looked at him in irritation. "You cost only one hundred arrow points."

I shook with anger.

"That bothers you, doesn't it?" he asked.

"No," I said.

"It would bother only a natural slave girl," he said.

I looked down, shaking with fury. I was not a slave. I was not a slave! I sat there in the belted, red-silk lounging robe, with the high brocade collar enclosing my throat. I drew again one the cigarette. I was not a slave! "How did you know that I was in Targo's compound?" I asked.

"Doubtless," said he, "I would have investigated, and found you there, but, earlier, I saw you in Laura. You were in coffle, throat-leashed, fetching supplies, with other slaves."

I looked down with irritation.

"You carry wine beautifully," he commented.

"I am not a slave," I told him.

"I see," he said.

"I am free," I told him.

"I see," he said.

I remembered now that once, in Laura, I had seen a man, garbed in black. I had thought that he might have been watching us. But I had not been sure. I now realized that it had been he.

"And so," I said, "you found me."

"I confirmed your identity at the compound," said he, "during the performance of the mountebank, and, of course, surveyed the entire area and planned, in effect, the raid of the panther girls."

"It was your good fortune," I told him, haughtily, "that I was not caged that night."

He smiled. "I had spoken with Targo and the guards," he said, "and knew the celebrations planned for the evening. Further, I had even spoken with the guards, ostensibly jesting with them, as to their choices for the evening. I knew even at which wagon you would serve."

"You are thorough," I said.

"One must be," he said. "And so I am here," I said. I lowered the cigarette. "What are you going to do with me?" I asked.

"Perhaps feed you to the beast," he said.

I stiffened. It was true that he could do that, if he wished.

I drew again on the cigarette. "What are you going to do with me?" I asked. "In some respects," said he, "it was your good fortune to fall in with a slaver."

"Oh?" I asked.

"Yes," said he. "Doubtless you have not yet served fully as a slave girl." I looked at him with apprehension.

"You will doubtless find it an interesting experience," he said, "to serve, not as a free woman, but as a slave girl, fully, for a master who will exact his full dues and more, from his property."

"Please," I said.

"Few Earthwomen," he said, "have that exquisite pleasure."

"Please," I said. "Do not speak to me so."

"Smoke your cigarette," he said, kindly.

I drew on the cigarette.

"Have you never been curious," he asked, "what it would be like, to be forced to yield yourself, utterly, to a master?"

"I hate men," I told him.

"Superb," he said.

I looked at him with irritation.

"You might be interested to know," he said, "that all indications are that you will be a fantastic pleasure slave for a master.

"I hate men!" I cried.

"Excellent," he commented.

I looked at him with fury.

I drew again on the cigarette. "What do you want with me?" I asked. Suddenly the beast made a noise. It was a rumble, a growl. I stiffened, and turned.

It has lifted its head. Its wide, pointed ears lifted. It was listening. The man and I, watched the beast, I, frightened, he, alert, cautious. His eyes seemed to meet those of the beast, and the beast seemed to look at him. Then it had lifted its lips away from its teeth, and looked away, its ears still lifted. It growled again.

"It is a sleen outside," said the man.

I trembled.

"When I was brought here," I said, "twice the band caught the scent of a sleen." The man looked at me. "It was stalking you," he said, "you, and the others." "Perhaps there were different sleen," I whispered.

"Perhaps," he said.

The beast now crouched on the straw, its nostrils wide in the leathery snout, its eyes bright and black, the ears lifted.

"It is close," said the man. He looked at me. "Sometimes the sleen will follow a quarry for pasangs, before making its strike, lurking, approaching, withdrawing, then at last, when satisfied, attacking from the darkness."

The beast growled menacingly.

To my horror I heard a snuffling behind the door, and then a whining, a scratching.

The man smiled. "It is the sleen," he said.

"Do not be frightened," he said. "We are safe in the hut."

I heard a scratching, as of heavy claws, at the door.

The small hairs on the back of my neck rose.

"The door is stout," said the man. "We are safe in the hut."

I looked to the boards, shuttered across the window. It was a small window, not more than a foot in diameter.

"The sleen was probably following the band," he said. "The trail led here." "Why doesn't he follow the panther girls?" I whispered.

"He might have," said the man, "but he did not." He gestured with his head to the beast. "Also, he may smell the beast. Sleen are sometimes curious, and not infrequently resentful of the intrusion of strange animals into what they choose to regard as their territory." There was an angry whine behind the door. This was answered by a throaty snarl from the collared beast within.

"Why doesn't he go away?" I asked.

"He may smell the beast," said the man.

I took another draw on the cigarette.

"Or," said the man, "he may smell food within."

"Food?" I asked.

"You and I," said he.

My hand shook with the cigarette, spilling ashes.

"We are safe within," he said.

"Don't you have any weapons, powerful weapons," I asked, "with which you might kill it?"

The man smiled. "It is unwise to carry weapons of power on the surface of Gor," he said.

I did not understand this.

"But," he smiled, "we are safe within."

I hoped that he was right.

"You are lovely in your robe," he said.

"Thank you," I said.

I could no longer hear the sleen now.

I ground out the cigarette on the table, and looked at him, coolly. "I was not brought to Gor, was I," I asked, "to be a simple female slave, simply to be given, or sold, to a master?"

"I told you," he reminded me, "that at the age of seventeen you were marked for abduction. In any event, you would have been brought to Gor as a female slave." "But in my case," I pressed, "there were, were there not, additional considerations?"

"Yes," he said.

I leaned back. I suddenly felt sharp, and cool. There was something they needed of me. I now could bargain. I now could negotiate. I might yet be able to arrange for my return to Earth. I must be clever. I must be shrewd. I had power. "Would you like to discuss business with me?" I asked.

"You are very beautiful in your robe," he said.

"Thank you," I said. I felt a certain sense of triumph now.

"Would you like another cigarette?" he asked. I did not want one.

"Yes, thank you," I said.

He gave me another cigarette, and I took it. He closed the small, flat golden cigarette box and struck a small match. I leaned forward, and he bent forward to light the cigarette. The flame from the match was but an inch short of the cigarette. He looked at me. "You are prepared to negotiate?" he asked. I smiled at him. "Perhaps," I said.

He brought the match toward the cigarette, and I bent forward for the light. The match dropped.

I looked at him, startled.

Suddenly, with fury, he, with his full strength, slapped me across the side of the face, literally knocking me from the bench and against the wall. Instantly he was on me and tore the robe from my body. Then, insolently, brutally, he threw me to my belly in the dirt. He knelt across my body and I felt my hands jerked behind my body. With the binding fiber he had earlier removed, he lashed them with ferocious cruelty behind my body. Then he sprang to his feet and kicked me in the side. Terrified, in pain, I rolled to my side, looking up at him in horror. He bend down and seized me by the hair and the left arm and thrust me toward the beast.

"Feed!" he cried.

I screamed, thrust toward the wide, fanged jaws of the beast.

He jerked me back, cruelly, on my knees, and I saw the jaws snapping at me, saw the curved teeth, the hideous tongue and eyes. Again and again the jaws snapped at me, once grazing my body, as I was held just outside the perimeter of the beast's chain. It pulled against the chain and collar, trying to reach me. Then, angrily, the man threw me backward in the dirt, across the room, on my side.

"Do not feed!" he cried to the beast.

Then, from a hook on the wall, he took a large piece of meat, bosk meat, and threw it to the animal. It began tearing at it with its fangs and claws. It could have been my body.

The man approached me.

I lay on my side in the dirt, naked and bound, looking up at him in horror. In his hand he held an uplifted slave whip.

"You told me you were free," he said.

"No! No!" I cried. "I am a slave! A slave!"

"A hundred arrow points is too much for such a slave," he said.

Terrified, I struggled to my knees and put my head down, to his feet. "Kiss my feet," said he, "Slave."

I did so.

"The proud Miss Brinton," he said.

I trembled at his feet.

"Are you prepared to negotiate?" he asked.

I put my forehead against his feet, to the straps of his sandals, my hair falling across his sandals.

"Command me," I begged.

He stepped away from me. I lifted my head. I saw that he took the red-silk robe, and cast it into the fire. Kneeling in the dirt, naked and bound, tears in my eyes, I watched it burn.

He regarded me.

I put down my head. "Command me, Master," I begged, Elinor Brinton, a cowering Gorean slave girl.

"It is our intention," he said, "to have you trained as a slave girl, to give exquisite pleasures to a master. And then you will be placed in a certain house."

"Yes, Master?" I asked.

"And," he said, "in this house, you will poison its master."

I looked at him with horror.

Suddenly there was a horrifying squeal and a splintering of wood.

I screamed.

The head of a sleen, eyes blazing, its long needlelike teeth snapping, thrust through the small, broken window, the shutters splintered to the side. Snarling, it began to wiggle its shoulders, like a cat, through the opening. The beast at the side of the wall went wild.

The man, suddenly distraught, cried out in fear, backing away from the window. I was on my feet, backed against the wall.

The large, wide, triangular head of the sleen, its nocturnal eyes blinking against the sudden light of the fire, thrust further into the room, followed by its shoulders, then its right, clawed paw.

The beast bellowed in fury, leaping up.

The man, as though brought to his senses by the maddened cry of the beast, picked up the slave whip and ran to the window, striking the sleen, trying to drive it back through the window. But, as I watched in horror, I realized the sleen could not retreat. It now had two paws through the window and a third of its body. It squealed and hissed in fury, struck by the whip, and then it caught it in its teeth and tore it away from the man. I, bound, screamed and pressed against the wall. Then the man picked up a piece of wood, kindling, from near the fire, and struck the sleen. The wood broke across its neck. Another paw and leg, clawed, scrabbled through the window. The sleen has six legs. It is long, sinuous; it resembles a lizard, save that it is furred and mammalian. In its attack frenzy it is one of the most dangerous animals on Gor. Wildly the man bent down to the fire and picked up a piece of wood from the fire, burning, and thrust it toward the sleen. It squealed in pain, blinded in one eye. Then it caught the wood in its teeth and wrenched it away. Then another leg came through the window, and almost half of the animal's body thrust into the room. The man then screamed and fled to the door. He threw up the beams, unlocking it. The beast roared at him and he turned, terrified. I screamed. I could not understand. It was almost as though the beast had commanded him to remain. The sleen, hissing, one eye blazing, the other seared by the torch, maddened with pain, began to wiggle and squirm through the aperture. Then to my horror I observed the beast. It lifted its large paws to its throat. The paws were six-digited, several jointed, almost like furred tentacles, surmounted by clawlike growths, blunted, filed. It unfastened the buckled collar at its throat and cast it aside.

Then, with a cry of rage, it leapt toward the sleen. The two animals locked in combat. The sleen came through the window, scrambling through, biting and tearing. The beast seized it about the throat, its great jaws biting at the throat and vertebrae. The two animals rolled in the small hut, twisting, squealing, hissing, scattering the benches and table. Then, with a horrifying snap of bone and tearing of flesh, and fur the jaws of the beast bit through the back of the sleen's neck. It stood there then, holding the body of the sleen in its claws, its mouth dropping fur and blood. The body of the sleen twisted compulsively. The beast turned to regard us.

"It's dead," cried the man. "Put it down."

The beast looked at him, uncomprehendingly, and I was suddenly terrified. The man, too, seemed terrified.

Then the beast threw back its head and uttered a wild horrifying scream, and fell to feeding on the sleen's carcass.

"No! No!" cried the man. "Do not feed! Do not feed!"

The beast raised its head, half buried in the sleen's body, meat hanging from its jaws.

"Do not feed!" whispered the man.

I was terrified.

The beast was in its feeding frenzy. I suspected it could not then be controlled. Surely the man, who knew more than I of such matters, was almost beside himself with terror.

"Stop! cried the man.

The beast looked at him, eyes blazing, its face drenched in blood.

"Obey your master!" I cried. "Obey your master!"

The beast looked at me. I shall never forget the horror I felt. "I am the master," it said.

The man cried out and fled from the hut. I, forgotten by the beast in its feeding, inched toward the door, and then, hearing the feeding of the beast behind me, fled, naked and bound, into the darkness.