Conspirators of Gor

Chapter Thirty

“Ho, kajira,” said a voice, not heard for days.

I spun about, delighted, and rushed to Desmond of Harfax, knelt before him, pressed my lips quickly to his sandals, knelt up, and then knelt close to him, holding him about the legs, and putting my turned head humbly against his legs, rather as I had seen Mina do with Trachinos.

“Here, here,” he said, surprised.

I supposed many women of my old world would not have understood something this meaningful, and simple, the love and gratitude, the pleasure of a slave in the presence of a master. Perhaps that is because they do not know themselves slaves. Perhaps that is because they have never met a true male, so mighty, so innocently and naturally the master of such as we. Perhaps they have never met a male before whom they could hope to do little but kneel, and hope to be found pleasing.

“Here, here,” he said. “You are not my slave.”

I looked up at him. How did he know whose slave I was?

“Stand up, back away,” he said. “Let me see you.”

I obeyed, smiling. I pulled down the camisk a little, self-consciously. How meaningless that gesture was when camisked!

“Turn,” he said.

I turned, and then, again, faced him.

“Lovely,” he said, admiringly. “The camisk becomes you.”

A slave, I was muchly pleased. We love our bodies, and our beauty, and are thrilled to be choicelessly displayed as the slaves we are. What free woman would not, in our place, wish to be brazenly exhibited to the eyes of men as the treasure she is?

Too, what woman, I wondered, would a camisk not become?

“In the past weeks,” I said, “I have not seen Master.”

“Nor I you,” he said.

“I trust Master is well,” I said.

“Yes,” he said, “and you?”

“Yes, Master,” I said.

“You are looking well,” he said.

“We are carefully dieted and routinely exercised,” I said.

“That is common with animals,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I said.

“Your hair,” he said, “is far from slave long, but I have seen many barbarians whose hair, in their first sale, was no longer, or not much longer.”

“Many barbarian females,” I said, “wear their hair as they please.”

“When they are collared,” he said, “they will wear it as their masters please.”

“Of course, Master,” I said.

He then approached me, and my body tensed. I hoped he would gather me into his arms.

He placed his hand, lightly, on the side of my waist, on the left. I made a tiny, inadvertent noise, and drew back a little, my eyes, wide, regarding him, my lips parted.

“From so little?” he said.

“Forgive me, Master,” I said.

“Your slave fires,” he said, “have begun to burn.”

“It is being done to me, Master,” I said. “Please, forgive me.”

“It is acceptable,” he said. “Indeed, it is desirable.”

“I cannot help myself, Master,” I said.

“Nor should you,” he said. “Kneel.”

Immediately I complied. Kajirae are to obey unquestioningly, and instantly.

“I see,” he said.

“I must now kneel like this,” I said.

I was before him in the position of the pleasure slave, in nadu, back straight, head up, hands palm down on thighs, belly in, shoulders back, kneeling back on heels, knees spread. This was common nadu. Some masters prefer the hands behind the back, the right hand grasping the left wrist, if the girl is right handed, and the left hand grasping the right wrist, if the girl is left handed. Some masters, too, prefer for the head to be bowed, in subservience. In the common nadu, as required in the complex, and insisted upon by Nora, the hands are to be visible and the head raised. Some say the hands are to be visible in order that the slave cannot conceal within them a package, a pellet, a powder, a weapon, or such. One supposes that may be a consequence of the position, but, one supposes, as slaves could scarcely have access to such things, that one must look further. Aside from the aesthetic aspects of the matter, namely revealing the small, sweet loveliness of a woman’s hands, the small wrists, almost asking to be bound, and such, it facilitates a common begging gesture, one which is lovely and subtle. One merely changes the position of the hands, by turning the backs of the hand to the thighs. This exposes the soft, concave, curved tenderness of the palms, open, sensitive, and vulnerable, to the master. Another subtle device is the simple bondage knot, loosely tied in the hair. In both these ways, and others, the slave may make her needs known. Perhaps, when she is expected to be tunicked, she appears in a camisk, or naked; perhaps she is discovered, as suggested earlier, stripped, at the foot of his couch; perhaps she kneels before him, bringing him a whip, or rope. Or perhaps she merely kneels, or bellies, and begs to be caressed. Numerous are the variations which might appear in such matters. The point of having the head raised is presumably that the beauty of her features may be well displayed. Too, of course, it makes it easier for her to apprise herself of her surroundings, the master’s moods, and such. It is common with slaves, as with other animals, that they are trained to the master’s tastes.

“You serve, in the complex?” he asked.

“Assuredly,” I said. “I even, from time to time, groom Kurii.”

“You may groom all the beasts you wish,” he said.

“I must also please men,” I said.

“Doubtless,” he said.

“Master does not seem pleased,” I said.

“I dislike the naked feast of you in the arms of others,” he said.

“Master does not own me,” I said.

He made an angry noise, which pleased me, though I attempted to conceal my pleasure.

“Who owns you?” he asked.

“I no longer know,” I said.

“Legally,” he said, “you must belong to the Lady Bina.”

“I do not know,” I said.

“Master,” I said.

“Yes,” he said.

“The beast who attended on the Lady Bina, he in which you seemed to be interested,” I said, “is here, imprisoned.”

“I had not seen him,” said Desmond. “He is not one of them, then?”

“No,” I said. “Far from it. He was ignorant of this place. As nearly as I can determine, he is opposed to their projects, whatever they may be.”

“They have to do with worlds,” said Desmond.

“How does Master know these things?” I asked.

“Curiosity-,” he said.

“Surely Master does not think we cease to be women when we are collared.”

“No,” he said. “I think that is when you begin to be women.”

“Perhaps Master will one day speak to a slave,” I said.

“Perhaps,” he said.

“I think you would find the imprisoned beast,” I said, “is your ally.”

“How so,” he said.

“He is reluctant to abet the projects of this place,” I said.

“There are many beasts,” he said. “What is one more, or less?”

“He may have influence in a far place, an important place,” I said, “one from which support would be solicited.”

“I see,” said Master Desmond.

“And it is hoped he will solicit this support.”

“And he declines?”

“As of now,” I said.

“Of now?”

“I think they hope to secure his collaboration by means of the Lady Bina,” I said, “one supposes either by means of her influence upon him, or by means of her jeopardy.”

“They would threaten her?”

“I think he would do anything to protect her,” I said.

“Why?” he asked.

“How could a slave know?” I said. “He is a mere beast.”

“The key then,” he said, “is the Lady Bina.”

“I am sure the beasts flatter her, and enflame her ambitions.”

“She thinks she would be the Ubara of the planet?” he asked. He must have recalled such remarks from the journey.

“The prisoner, Lord Grendel,” I said, “perhaps better apprised than we of possible Kur power, thinks that would be within the realm of possibility, but would not be likely to take place. He thinks, rather, following a Kur victory, after which she would no longer be needed, she would be enslaved or eaten.”

“I see,” he said.

“Perhaps it is the Kur way,” I said. I thought of Lord Grendel’s speculation with respect to the likely fate of Tiresias.

“She must be informed,” he said.

“I do not think she would believe the informant,” I said, “especially if it were the prisoner, Lord Grendel, whom she suspects would wish, for personal reasons, for selfish reasons, to deny her such an exaltation, such station, and grandeur. She might well suppose him jealous of such fortune, and that he would prefer to keep things as they were before, to keep her in modest circumstances, and to keep her muchly dependent upon him.”

“If she would not believe the prisoner, who is Kur, and known to her, who would she believe?” he asked.

“I do not think anyone,” I said.

“Where is the Lady Bina?” he asked.

“Somewhere here, in this place, I would suppose,” I said, “but I know not where.”

“The complex is large,” he said.

“Many areas,” I said, “are closed to us, and many even to lesser beasts.”

“I have not seen Astrinax,” he said.

“He may be with the Lady Bina,” I said.

“Occasionally I see Lykos, Trachinos, Akesinos,” he said, “but muchly we are apart from one another.”

“Even so,” I said, “you must know more than I.”

“I doubt that,” he said. “In some respects kajirae come and go more freely than free persons. They may be less noted, and are likely to arouse fewer suspicions.”

“As pet sleen, wandering about,” I said.

“Precisely,” he said.

“I see,” I said.

“Certainly the beasts notice them scarcely at all,” he said.

“That is true,” I said. Certainly he must be aware that men often took note of kajirae. This was particularly the case in the feast halls, the guard stations, the gaming rooms, their quarters, when we were cleaning them, and so on. At certain Ahn walking down certain corridors, as when carrying provender to the guards at the outer gate, given the accostings, hootings, stolen kisses, playful slaps, and such, it could be something of a gauntlet. To be sure, such things remind a woman of her interest to masters. Sometimes a fellow’s superiors would permit him to write with a grease pencil on a girl’s thigh something like, “Tonight I belong to Leucippus,” to whom that night the girl would report, to give him pleasure, of the sort expected from a woman who was no more than a slave.

“Who is Agamemnon?” he asked. “I have heard this name.”

“I do not know,” I said. “This place is named for him.”

“Have you seen him?”

“I do not think so,” I said. “I have seen high Kurii, whose translators are on golden chains, such as Lucius, Timarchos, and Lysymachos, and several silver-chain Kurii, and a great many iron-chain Kurii, but, as far as I know, I have not seen a Kur named Agamemnon.”

“He may not be here,” said Desmond.

“There was a revolution on a far world,” I said. “He may have perished there. These Kurii may be the remnants of a force which was once his, one still loyal to a politics, or a memory,”

“I see,” he said.

“I think the golden-chain Kur, Lucius, is first here,” I said.

“Perhaps,” he said.

“It is late,” I said. “I must report back to the slave quarters. It is nearly locking time.”

“Then you are caged?” he said.

He looked at me as though he did not disapprove of that.

“We all are,” I said, “even our first girl, Nora, though she is the last caged and the first released.”

“Who does this?” he asked.

“A Kur,” I said. “We are Kur girls. I am told our collars make this clear.”

“Are the cages large?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “One can do little more than kneel or sit in them.”

“I see,” he said.

“Perhaps Master would like to see me in my cage,” I said.

“You are naked in the cage?”

“Of course.”

“Good,” he said. “I like to see naked, caged women.”

“Have I permission to withdraw?” I asked.

“Somehow,” he said, “we must gather information, somehow we must make contact with the Lady Bina.”

“I see no way in which these things can be done,” I said.

“Nor I,” he said.