Dancer of Gor

10 The Kitchen

My head was down, my hair over his feet. I was naked, frightened. I had been summoned into his presence, and had performed obeisance at the end of the long carpet, leading to the dais. I had then, when permitted, approached the dais, head down, on all fours. I had climbed, on all fours, up the broad, carpeted steps of the dais, and now lay, on my belly, half on its surface, the lower part of my body, my right knee flexed, across the final two steps before its height.

"You like and kiss well," he said.

"Thank you, Master," I said.

"Like the other females of Earth," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said. I gathered I was not the first Earth female who had come this way.

"You may continue," he said.

"Thank you, Master," I said.

"It is not unpleasant," he said.

"A slave is grateful if her master is not displeased with her," I said. "You are very pretty," he said.

"Thank you, Master," I said.

"You wear a collar," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said.

"Whose collar is it?" he asked.

"Yours, Master," I said.

"And whose is that?" he asked.

"The collar of my master, Hendow, of Brundisium, master of the tavern of Hendow, on Dock Street, in Brundisium," I said.

There was a slave whip across his knees.

His feet and ankles were large, and the sandals had heavy straps on them. His calves and thighs, too, were sturdy and powerful. His forearms and arms, too, were frighteningly thick, and sturdy, like trunks of small trees. They were inches greater in dimension than my own small limbs. He was of broad girth. His shoulders, too, were broad, like the beams of a house. I could not begin to conjecture the strength of such a man. He could have handled me like a doll. I felt helpless. It was like a flower before a mace of iron.

I was terrified. He was my maser. I was eager to please him.

His hand, reaching down, prevented me from licking higher than midway upon his calves.

"You already know something of what it is to be a slave, don" t you?" he asked. "Yes, Master," I said.

"Desist," he said.

I desisted in my ministrations.

"You are a virgin, aren" t you?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," I said. He knew that, of course. It had been in my sales information. Too, it had been checked by his man the morning following my sale, before I had been prepared for shipment here.

"Would you risk your virginity here, in this place, at this time?" he asked. "My virginity," I said, "belongs to my master. He may do what he wishes with it."

"I have plans for it," he said.

I was silent. It would be as he willed. He was Master.

"How do your lessons proceed?" he asked.

"I think well, Master," I said. It seemed to me in my best interests to be conservative in my estimations. Doubtless he had better information at his disposal that I could give him, from his dancing slaves, and his whip master. "You are a dancer," he said, "and have in you the makings of a superb pleasure slave."

"Thank you, Master," I said.

"It is interesting that you are from Earth," he said. "One might have thought that you were Gorean."

"I am a woman," I whispered.

"Yes," he said. "That is probably the important thing. In the end it is probably all pretty much the same. There are men, and there are women."

"Yes, Master," I said.

"Did you know that many times Earth women turn out to be superb pleasure slaves?" he asked.

"We are women," I whispered, shrugging. I saw no reason why we, properly controlled and disciplined, should not be as perfect for a man as a Gorean woman. Indeed, considering the social and political deserts in which we were sexually starved, it would not have surprised me in the least, if we, once it became clear to us, to our joy, that we now had no culturally prescribed alternatives to being women, that we were now no longer subjected to social pressures to be something else, our womanhood being denied, or demeaned and despised, to coming home to our sex, and nature, proved to be every bit as good, if not in some ways better, than our Gorean sisters, or at least some of them, unaware of such deprivations. But in the end, I suppose, it all depends on the individual female. In the end, we were all women.

"Look up," he said.

I rose to my knees, and lifted my head.

"You have a beautiful face," he said.

"Thank you, Master," I said.

"And you have a luscious form," he said.

"Thank you, Master," I said.

"Kiss the whip," he said.

I did so, quickly, that I might not seem to dally, or he draw it from me, but then, as he held it in place, permitting me to continue, more slowly, more lingeringly. Then he drew it back, and I knelt back, before him.

"Are you going to be any good?" he asked.

I looked up at him, startled, frightened. He had said I had a beautiful face, and a luscious form. What more could anyone want? Then I swallowed hard, understanding him. Of course, of course, I thought. Such things would be only a beginning, perhaps only a small beginning, and doubtless not even a necessary beginning, of what men would expect of me. "It is my hope that I will be pleasing," I said.

"I have high hopes for you," he said.

I was silent.

"I think," he said, "that you will be very good."

"It is my hope that I will be pleasing to my master," I said.

"And to any to whom, in your master" s service," he said, "you are explicitly, or implicitly, consigned."

"Yes, Master," I said.

"And to men, in general," he said.

"Yes, Master, of course, Master," I said. I was a female slave. I existed now for the pleasure of men. It was what I was for.

"Sometimes," he said, "one encounters an Earth female who believes, at first, for a short time, that she may be resistant, in some respect, either secretly or overtly, to masters. Are you such a female?"

"No, Master," I said.

"In any way?" he asked.

"No, Master," I said.

"Such recalcitrance is detectable," he said. "It is betrayed by subtle body cues, uncontrollable, and unmistakable."

"Yes, Master," I said, looking down.

"There are drugs, too," he said, "which are pertinent to such matters." "Yes, Master," I said. I had not known that. I had known that. I had known about the other sorts of things. They had been graphically illustrated to us in the house of my training. Some had to do with skin blotching and nipple erection. One simple test had been with five of us, one of us, not known to Ulrick, to take a ring and hide it. By holding her hands and looking into her eyes it had almost immediately determined the "guilty girl." He had then, merely by holding her arm, had her guide him, involuntarily, to where she had hidden the ring. These things were done primarily by acute observation and differential muscle tensions, indexed to the girl" s knowledge and inward states. The meaning of the lessons, however, had been clear. If our slavery did not go through us, so to speak, if it was not complete, we could not conceal that from the masters. Our choice then, in effect, was to be complete slaves, whole slaves, total slaves, or die. I, and I think, my entire class, interestingly, had rejoiced in this knowledge. We knew we were slaves in our hearts, as we had learned in our training, and we wanted to be slaves. The knowledge then that we would be unable to conceal any inauthenticity is our slavery from the masters, even if we wished to do so, was a liberating insight. It imposed a welcome, healthful psychological consistency upon us. It deprived us of even the last excuse which our pride or vanity might have left to us not to be perfect in our bondage. To be sure, sometimes a master encourages open defiance or rebellion on the part of a girl, he then enjoying forcing her to serve, and perfectly, so obviously, so visibly, against her will. Too, sometimes, he is amused to indulge a girl" s «secret» recalcitrance, well aware of her games, her transparent reservations, her supposedly so carefully guarded and secret resistance, letting her think it is unknown, even unsuspected. When he tires of this sport, however, he reveals to her, to her horror, that she had been all this time as open to him as a book. She can then make the decision of the slave girl, to be a true slave, a full slave, or die.

"Look into my eyes," he said.

I did so. It was not easy.

«Yes,» he said, "you are a slave."

"Yes, Master," I said.

"Even though you might regret your bondage, or rage against it, from time to time," he said, "yet, in your heart, you now you are a slave."

"Yes, Master," I said, frightened.

"You were a slave even on Earth," he said."But a secret slave," I whispered. "Here," he said, "your slavery is patent."

"Yes, Master," I said.

"What was wrong with you, at the end of your sale?" he asked. "You seemed suddenly so awkward, so clumsy, almost as though you were paralyzed." "I do not know," I said. "Perhaps I realized, suddenly, what was being done with me, that I was being sold."

"But a slave must expect to be sold," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said.

He looked down at me.

"I was frightened, Master," I said.

"Are you frightened now?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," I said. This was the first time I had been in his presence, to my knowledge, since my sale in Market of Semris. I kept my eyes from meeting his. I could see the vast, hairy chest, crossed by the two belts. The large, drooping mustache suggested a casual, almost indolent power. The scar at the side of his face had been wrought, I supposed, by some primitive device or weapon, perhaps even, though it seemed hard to believe for a female of Earth, in combat. From my point of view, he seemed clearly a barbarian. He would think nothing of owning women. To be sure, from his point of view, it was I, though a refined female of Earth, who, on this world, counted as being the "barbarian." He had been coming back from some place called Torcadino, or near Torcadino, where he had gone, either there, or in its vicinity, to purchase cheap girls for his tavern. I gathered that women, for some reason, were cheap in that vicinity. He had stopped at Market of Semris on his way back to Brundisium, boarding his girls overnight at the house of Teibar. He had stopped in that evening at the sales barn. There he had purchased me. He had not, as far as I knew, made any other purchases here.

"Good," he said. "It is well for a slave to fear her master."

"Yes, Master," I said. I kept my head down. What he said was rue, of course. It was indeed well for a slave to fear her master. The master can do what he wished to her. He has absolute and total power over her.

I watched his fingers move idly on the butt of the whip and on its single, thick blade, coiled back, twice, against the butt.

I suppose I would have feared any Gorean maser, they are so strict with us. But I was sure, too, I feared this one more than I might have most. He was so large, and so beastlike, a complex man, I sensed, but one of simplicity in the sense of undividededness or singleness of purpose. To be sure, this lack of self-division, of self-conflict, tends to be characteristic of Gorean males. Their culture does not try to control them by setting them against themselves when they are too young to understand what is being done to them, in some cases, by half tearing them apart. To some extent, I suppose, it satisfies them, and keeps them content, rather as one might throw meat to lions, by throwing a certain sort of woman in their way, the slave. The man who owned me might indeed be, as I had first percieved him,in Market of Semris, he free, looking up at the slave block where I, a naked slave, displayed in high manacles, was being vended, too corpulent, too broad of girth, too gross, too scarred, too loathsome, too hideous, but now that I was his, and within reach of his whip, these initial perceptions were surely expanded or altered by other more pertinent, more trenchant ones. I was now aware not so much of these first-glimpsed things, things which might occur to a stranger looking casually upon him for the first time, from a distance, as other things, things which become much clearer with closeness, closeness such as when one might be kneeling, naked before him, so close he could reach out and touch you, a sense of intelligence, and power, and perception, such that one felt he could look through you, and see what was within you, anything, and uncompromising mastery, and perhaps mercilessness. The most obvious thing about him, of course, now, from my point of view, was that he owned me, that he was my master.

"But you are not so frightened now," he said.

"No," I said.

"Why?" he asked.

"The sale is over," I said. "I know that I am now a sold slave. That is behind me. I have been summoned into the presence of my master. In this he has honored me, for he has many girls. He has been kind enough to express his satisfaction with trivialities of his slave, that she has a beautiful face and form, and his belief that I may perhaps prove to be pleasing in more significant manners. Too, he has informed me that my tongue work upon his feet has not been entirely displeasing."

"For a slave new to her collar," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said. "Of course, Maser. Thank you, Master." "I think you were not too pleased to have been purchased by me," he said. I was silent.

"Perhaps you find me gross," he said, "even hideous?"

I was silent.

"Some women do," he said.

I did not speak.

"It is amusing then to me, sometimes," he said, "to abuse them, and make them, despite their will, cry out for my touch."

"Yes, Master," I said.

"It pleases me to have them crawling on me on their belly, begging piteously to be used."

"Yes, Master," I whispered.

"Perhaps you find me gross and loathsome," he speculated.

I trembled, head down.

"But is doesn" t matter," he said. "You are my slave."

"Yes, Master," I said.

"And at so much as the snapping of my fingers, you will bring yourself running to me, obediently and warmly, desperate to please me."

"Yes, Master," I said.

"But there is time enough for such things," he said.

I was silent.

"I was not displeased that your performance on the block was as ambiguous as it was, toward the end of your sale," he said.

"Master?" I asked.

"A kajira is occasionally entitled to terror," he said.

"Thank you, Master," I said, hesitantly.

"And it perhaps confused certain buyers," he said, "inhibiting them from submitting higher bids. I turned it thus to my profit."

I kept my eyes down.

"Come closer," he said.

I did so, on my knees, "Ohh," I said, touched by him. I leaned forward, tears in my eyes, pressing myself toward him, gross as he might be, my hands on the sides of the great chair in which he sat. I put my head down on his left knee. "I thought so," he said. "Look up. Look into my eyes."

I did so, frightened.

"Yes," he said, looking into my eyes. "You are a slave. That is all you are." "Yes, Master," I whispered.

"Kneel back," he said.

I knelt then, tears in my eyes.

"Keep your knees open," he said.

"Oh, please, Master!" I begged.

His eyes were stern.

Immediately I open my knees, widely, as was appropriate for the type of slave I was, a pleasure slave.

"One might think almost," he said, musingly, "that you are not a virgin. It is interesting to speculate what you will be like when you have been adequately opened and regularly utilized."

I kept my head down.

"It will probably not even be necessary to encourage you with the whip," he said.

I did not dare to speak.

"But the whip will be always there, should you require refreshening on your status, or become to any degree less then perfectly pleasing," he said. "Yes, Master," I said.

"You may have fooled others in your terror," he said, "but you did not fool me." "Master?" I asked "Beneath the terror," he said, "I saw the beauty, and the slave." I did not speak.

"I saw, too," he said, "the dancer, particularly in your transitions between the attitudes commanded of you in the slave paces. I knew then you were either a dancer, or had the makings of a dancer. Too, of course, your response to the slaver" s caress, later, was indicative. That, of course, would have been obvious even to a tharlarion."

"Yes, Master," I whispered, head down.

"But it was, of course," he said, "for you, a very poor, or limited, response, certainly one far below what might ordinarily have been expected from one with your sensitivity levels."

I looked up at him, startled. How could he have known that?

"To a discerning eye," he smiled, "it was evident, in your subsequent movements, and certain tiny, fleeting expressions, though these were subtle things, as you were inwardly relieved, pleased at how well hidden, you thought, remained the real depth and urgency of your needs."

I regarded him with horror.

"We are not going to have any secrets between us, are we?" he asked. "No, Master!" I said, frightened. Before him I realized that it might be not only my body which was naked, but my mind and heart as well. I felt utterly exposed before this man, as only a slave can feel exposed to her master. "Do not be frightened," he said.

I trembled, uncontrollably. Too, I remembered his touch.

"In a man" s arms," he said, "you are the sort of woman who is so much alive, that you will be splendidly, utterly helpless."

I sobbed, shuddering naked, in my collar before him.

"Do you think you will like Brundisium?" he asked.

"I think so, Master," I whispered. I understood that Brundisium was one of the largest and busiest ports of this world. It was a commercial metropolis of sorts. I remembered in the slave wagon that several of the girls had hoped, desperately, not to be taken from this place. They had hoped fervently, it seemed, to wear their collars here. Ironically, it had been I, purchased in Market of Semris, a barbarian, who had been brought back to Brundisium. Many of my chain sisters, surely, would have envied me my good fortune. I was pleased enough to be here, from what I knew. Too, the city had seemed colorful and exciting to me, in my glimpses from the slave wagon. To be sure, at least one district through which we had passed in the wagon was still black with the residues of a great fire, one which had reportedly taken place in Se" Kara, some months ago. If I were never permitted outside the precincts of the tavern, of course, as I had not yet been, I did not think I would much enjoy the city. I had hopes, however, that I might, as several of the girls were now, eventually be granted such a lovely liberty. In such a matter, of course, the masters take little, if any, risk. The girls are collared and branded so there is never any doubt about what they are or where they belong. Too, in Brundisium, as with most Gorean cities, kajirae are not allowed outside the city gates unless in the keeping of a free person. In these peregrinations about the city, of course, the girls were sometimes expected to wear their master" s advertising on their tunics.

"Did you enjoy the trip here?" he asked.

"Master was kind," I said, "to provide us with blankets."

We had spent the night of our sale in the cages located in the exit corridor. The next morning, at dawn, the cages had been opened, and we had been ordered forth, each to our own disposition. My hands had then been manacled behind my back, by my master" s man. He had then given me a handful of slave gruel, putting it in my mouth as I knelt before him, my wrists chained behind me. We were not fed by the house of Teibar, of Market of Semris, that morning, as we were no longer its responsibility. I was then gagged and hooded, utilizing the devices of the ball-gag, the straps, the leather covering, the buckles and lock, as I had been when first leaving the house of my training. There were very good reasons for this, as I later learned. I was to be transported by tarn basket. When a girl cannot see and cannot communicate, it is much easier to manage her. I was taken out into the courtyard, gagged, hooded and manacled. Then I was put on my belly in the dirt. I knew nothing about what was going on. Then I heard a succession of wild, startling sounds, like the snapping of great sheets, and it seemed I was in the midst of a whirlwind, mad, choking dust swirling up and about me. I tried to rise, but a man" s foot pressed me back to the dirt. I also heard a sudden, shrill, terrifying, piercing scream. It was not a human noise, but the cry of something terribly large and fierce. It could only be, I conjectured, some sort of giant bird. I lay trembling in the dirt, helpless, the man" s foot on my back. I would learn it was indeed a large bird, one called a "tarn." And, I would later learn, it was not even a warrior" s mount, bred for swiftness and aggressiveness, a war tarn, but a mere draft tarn. I had been gagged, and hooded and manacled. And put on my belly, because the first sight of such a beast, at close hand, I was told, not unoften, in its size and ferocity, and terribleness, produces a miasma of terror in a female, and she is unwilling even to approach it, whips being often necessary. Happily I was unaware of the full terror within whose orbit I lay. I was pulled to my feet by an arm and walked for a few feet and then put down, on my back, on a blanket on the ground. This blanket was wrapped about me, closely. It was then secured on my body apparently by ropes, above and below my breasts, about my waist and below my knees. I was then lifted in it and set down, sitting, on what seemed to be a heavy wicker surface. A leather collarlike arrangement was then put about my neck and my head was pulled back, apparently, as I could tell, pressing back through the hood, against a vertical wicker surface. This held me in place. I was then pushed back, further, against the vertical wicker surface. This held me in place. I was then pushed back, further, against the vertical wicker surface. A broad belt then, perhaps some five or six inches in width, was put about my waist, drawn snug, and buckled shut. This, too, held in place. My knees were up slightly. My ankles were done, apparently, by the rope being threaded once or twice through the wicker flooring and then being resecured about my ankles. I then heard again, it startling me, terrifying me, that sudden, loud, shrill, piercing scream, this time, it seemed, from terribly close, surely no more than a few feet away. I squirmed helplessly in the tight blanket, in the manacles, in the straps and ropes. I knew almost nothing of what was going on. We are so helpless when we are gagged and hooded. I then was conscious of other weights being placed in the area where I was, and being cinched in place. I was conscious of their movements, and squirmings, through the wicker. Then, in a few moments, it seemed a side gate was shut, near me, and roped shut. I heard the rattle of harness, sensed the attachment of ropes, the tying of knots, the drawing of them tight, their testing. Then, in a bit, I heard a cry and the jerking of harness, and that wild scream again, so piercing, hurting my ears, making me again leap and squirm, terrified, miserable, in my bonds. I heard greatsnapping sounds. Then was a sudden swirling of air. I felt the pitting of dust against the hood and my feet. I heard the striking of small pebbles against the outside of the wicker. Then, to my astonishment, the object in which I had been placed began to slide rapidly along the ground and then, in a moment, it taking my breath away for an instant, it swung free, and was rising. I was off the ground! We were climbing. After a few minutes we were moving in a level manner. I could feel even the blanket, the wind whistling through the wicker walls. I hoped the object in which I was confined was strong. I sat very still. I did not want to risk weakening its structure in any way. I had no idea as to how high we were. It was cold. After a few hours, from the warmth of the hood, on my right, I conjectured we might be flying west, and perhaps to the north. My wrists were sore. Earlier, in my fear, I had fought too much with the manacles. My ankles, too, felt cut and raw. Too much in my earlier terror I had fought against the close loops, the coarse, narrow, bristly bands that confined them. My struggles had been futile, of course. Gorean slave girls are tied by men who know what they are doing in such ways that they cannot even think of escaping or freeing themselves. My struggles, I now realized, had been foolish, but at the time I had not seemed able to help myself. They had been the reflexive, struggles of a bound girl finding herself absolutely helpless in a terrifying reality. I hoped I had not marked or cut myself in such a way that scar tissue might form, for I might be beaten for that. Too, I did not want such marks, or scars, to detract from my appearance. I supposed I had a slave girl" s vanity. Things had then seemed calm. It seemed the ropes suspending this object would hold, that the surface on which I was confined was not likely to suddenly give way. I was then mainly grateful, in the cold, that we had been given blankets. Then, as my composure grew, I became eager and curious to know more about my surroundings. I did not know in what sort of device I was located. I did not know how high I was. I wondered what the countryside below might look like. Were there fields down there? Rivers? Forests? Would I be able to see the shadow of our passage, fleet and rippling, on the terrain below? What was the nature of the beast, or bird, that drew this carriage so swiftly through the sky? I wished I could see. That, however, was not now possible. The liberty had been denied to me by my master.

"It was nothing," he said.

I lowered my head humbly before him, my master. It had not been nothing, of course. At the height, and in the wind, and the cold, we might have half frozen, had it not been for the comfort of those blankets. I had not been unhooded, and ungagged, incidentally, until I had been inside the tavern, in a slave receiving room. My manacles had not bee removed until I had been taken downstairs to the basement, and was standing before the gate of a kennel. I had then been put to my hands and knees, and thrust into the kennel, which had then been locked behind me. I had, when the man had left, turned about in the kennel and looked out, through the bars. I could kneel in the kennel, but I could not stand upright in it. I held the bars, and looked out. It was a dim basement. To my left and right, though I could not see them well, there were additional kennels. Several girls might be kept in such places. As nearly as I could tell they were empty. There was straw in the kennel, and a part of a blanket, a pan of water, and a pail for wastes. The next morning I was fed, pellets and gruel, in a pan thrust under the kennel gate and then, later, when I had relieved myself, brought forth the first of my lessons in dance.

"Master," I whispered.

"Yes?" he said.

"May I speak?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

"I understand that you are satisfied with the price for which you purchased me," I whispered.

"Yes," he said.

"That is seemed a fine buy to you," I said. It seemed strange to me, then, that I, the former Doreen Williamson, the timid, shy reference librarian, from Earth, should now be inquiring into matters such as my price. As a free woman I had been priceless, and thus, in a sense, without value, or worthless. As a slave, on the other hand, I did have a value, a specific value, depending on what men were willing to pay for me.

"It was," he said.

"What did you pay for me?" I asked.

"Surely you recall," he said.

"It was two and fifty," I said, "but I do not know, really, what that means." "Two silver tarsks," he said, "and fifty copper tarsks, not tarsk bits, but tarsks, whole tarsks."

I looked up at him.

"Ah," he said, "you vain little she-tarsk, you want to know if that is much money, don" t you? You want to know how much you brought, really, on the block, as a stripped slave. You want to form an estimate as to your value. You want to know what you are worth. You are curious to know what you might bring in an open market."

"Yes, Master," I whispered.

"Curiosity is not becoming in a kajira," he said.

"Forgive me, Master," I said. I quickly put down my head.

"First," he said, "you must understand that women are cheap. It has to do with the wars. Because of the many dislocations, and the famine in parts of the country, many women have had to sell themselves into slavery. Too, thousands of females from Torcadion alone, over the recent months, in virtue of one coup or another, have been put into the market. Too, mercenaries and raiders abound. Slavers grow more bold, even in larger cities. Crowding, and the influx of refugees, too, in such cities as Ar, refugees who are often beautiful and defenseless, and easily taken, have contributed to the depression of the market. "I see, Master," I said.

"But you would still be curious as to your comparative value," he speculated. "Yes, Master," I said looking up.

"Even under normal conditions," he said, "a silver tarsk would be a very high price to pay for a semitrained girl."

"Ah," I said softly, mostly to myself. I was very pleased. I, semitrained, and a barbarian, had gone for more than twice that price!

I did have value!

"Let me put it in another way," he said, "in one that may be even more meaningful to you."

"Yes, Master?" I said.

"That was the highest price paid for a female that night," he said. "More than was paid for Gloria or Clarissa?" I asked.

"Who are they?" he asked.

"The two girls who were sold before me, just before me," I said. "Earth sluts, like yourself," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said.

"Each went for a silver tarsk ten," he said. "Both were superb. I was tempted to bid on them myself."

I was stunned that I had sold for more than Gloria and Clarissa. I had regarded them both as far superior to myself.

"You are a virgin, of course," he said.

"Oh," I said.

"That is of value to me," he said, "for I am a tavern owner. After you had performed the virgin dance, I will raffle off your virginity."

"Yes, Master," I said. I did not really understand what he was saying. I did realize, of course, and had realized this shortly after the beginning of my training, that my value might depend not simply on what I was, in myself, but even on the sort of woman I was, say, that I was a barbarian, and the relative abundance or scarcity of that commodity in the markets. Similar considerations apparently pertained to such matters as hair colors and body types. If these things were so, then I supposed that it was natural that my virginity, or lack of it, might also, at least in some cases, affect my price. My master, I noted, did not seem to be personally interested in my virginity, only in what it might mean to him in terms of its possible commercial value.

"But even if it were not for that," he said, "it is probably that you would have brought more that your lovely terrestrial compatriots."

I looked at him.

"Most Gorean men," he said, "would regard you, exhibited on the block, knowing only that much about you, as superior slave meat."

I shuddered.

"I think," he said, "in that market, that night, even if you had not been a virgin, you would have brought more than your friends. I would have thought you might have brought something in the neighborhood of a tarsk eighty or a tarsk seventy."

"But there was a bid of two for me," I said, "before your bid." "That seems a high bid," he said. "Perhaps it was the bid of someone new to the markets, perhaps one who had not seen many women vended, who did not realize how beautiful any woman is when she is put through merciless slave paces." I blushed, naked before him, in his collar.

"You bid two and fifty," I whispered.

"That is because I saw in you what others, at the time, did not," he said. "I saw in you the dancer, one I can use in the tavern. I saw in you, too, the helpless pleasure slave, who could be made the prisoner of her own passions, becoming an obedient, eager, grateful, spasmodic animal in her master" s arms." I blushed crimson.

"I think, he said, "that in time you might become a five-tarsk girl, perhaps even a ten-tarsk girl."

I looked up at him, frightened.

"You want to cover your breasts with your hands, don" t you?" he asked. "You want to clench your knees tightly together."

"Yes, Master!" I begged.

"Remain kneeling exactly as you are, pleasure slave," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said.

"And so," he said, "although the price I paid for you might have seemed high it was, from my point of view, in virtue of what you are, and will become, a splendid bargain."

"Yes, Master," I whispered.

"Are you pleased," he asked, "aside from questions of the price I paid for you, or my reasons for it, to learn that you are valuable, that you might well bring a price in the neighborhood of two silver tarsks in an open market?"

I did not know, precisely, how to respond to this question. It seemed that I was, as I had hitherto suspected, of genuine interest to Gorean men, or at least so many of them. Should I find pleasure in this, or a cause for alarm? Gorean men are generally such as to know how to handle women. They know what to do with them. Yet I did not think I would really want to be in the arms of other sorts of men.

"You have been asked a question," my master reminded me.

"Forgive me, Master," I whispered. I looked up at him, shyly. "Yes," I whispered, "I am pleased. I am extremely pleased."

"Vain she-tarsk," he said.

"Yes, Master," I smiled. I was delighted to learn that I had brought a good price, even if he thought it such a bargain. I was delighted, too, to learn that I might have, even had he not been there, brought as much as two silver tarsks. One fellow had bid that much! Too, perhaps most importantly, most significantly, no other girl had sold for so much that night as I! I had brought the highest price in the whole market that night! This astonished and delighted me. To be sure, it was doubtless an isolated market, and we were probably all only semitrained girls, or less, girls being sold that night as little more than "slave meat," it was I who had brought the highest price! I wished Teibar could have known that, that his catch from the library on Earth had brought the highest price in the market, and on her first sale, too! But I supposed that he, the monster, the beast, would have merely congratulated himself on his taste in selecting captures, turning it all to his own credit! The buyers would have known very little about me, of course. They had seen me the way most other Gorean men would see me, at first, or until they learned more about me, I supposed, as no more than another pretty girl in bondage, as, in effect, in a sense, no more than another pretty girl in bondage, as, in effect, in a sense, no more than mere "slave meat." I was proud, however, to have been regarded as an attractive slave, or, if you like, as promising slave meat. How strange it then seemed to me that I, the former Doreen Williamson, of Earth, a shy librarian, should now be elated that she had some simple, independent value as a female, if only as slave meat! Then I realized how superficial was my view of this matter, even in so simple a business as vending a girl from a block. Gloria was larger than I and, in his sense, would surely have been expected to have brought more if we were really being considered as "mere slave meat." But she had not brought more. They had considered us, and, for one reason or another, properly or improperly, wisely or not, at that particular time, at least, had bid more for me. The men call us "slave meat," and such, and perhaps this amuses them, and helps to keep us in our place, at their feet, but only a woman who is a fool believes them. They want, and own, the whole slave. Even Gorean law makes it clear that it is the entire slave whi is owned, not merely a part of her. To be sure, Gorean men do not play the games of some fools of Earth, pretending that the bodies of women are not of interest to them, but only their minds, or such, or whatever the currently prescribed cultural values recommend. They relish our bodies and see that they derive from them, exploiting us, if you will, every last ounce of pleasure that they can yield to them, but even in these merciless predations, showing us so little concern, it is the whole woman, the whole of their property, which they tease, and torment, and relish, and make yield to them.

"But there is good discipline kept in this house," he said, lifting the whip. "Yes, Master!" I said, quickly. Here, in this house, I then understood, though I might have some value in a commercial sense, I was only a slave.

"Crawl back down the steps, facing me," he said, "and then kneel at the foot of the dais."

I obeyed. I now felt very small before him, kneeling there, a slave, he, my master, so high above me in that great chair.

From a small sack at his side, walletlike, attached at his belt, he drew forth a tiny object, made of cloth. He crumpled it easily in the palm of his hand. It was clearly very compressible. I did not know what it was.

He threw it to me. It struck my body and fell before me, to the rug, at the foot of the dais. I looked down at it. I looked up at him.

"Put it on," he said.

Quickly I reached down and picked up the object, its folds tucked in among themselves. I opened it, and shook it out. It was a brief slave tunic, slit deeply at the hips, with narrow shoulder straps, little more than strings. I looked up at him, gratefully. It was the first garment of my own I had been given on this world. To be sure, I had been, upon occasion, given blankets or sheets to hold about myself, usually for warmth, and I had been, in my training, put in various costumes, mostly, I suppose, for my masters to see what I looked like in them, such as the common and Turian camisk, and the scandalous garb prescribed for Tuchuk slave girls. Too, I had been taught the wearing of, and arrangement of, simple, typical slave garments, such as tunics of various sorts, and ta-teeras, or slave rage. I had even been taught the tying of slave girdles, in such a way as to emphasize, and sometimes more than subtly, my figure. And, indeed, part of my training had not been only to wear, and move in such garments, but also how to remove them provocatively, and gracefully. Even the blankets and sheets we had been given, presumably mostly for warmth, we had to remove in certain fashions that clearly, from a man" s point of view, would have counted as an extremely sensuous disrobing. Then, recollecting that I had been ordered to put it on, I pulled it over my head and put my arms through the straps. In a moment I had drawn it down about me.

"Stand," he said.

Happily I stood, pulling the garment down more, hastily, modestly, about my thighs. Then I realized, blushing, that doing this must have as its consequences the greater accentuation of my figure.

"Turn," he said. "Walk about. Then return and stand before me." Happily I moved about in the garment.

"Do you not know how to walk?" he asked.

"Forgive me, Master," I said.

I then walked as a slave, proudly, my shoulders back, gracefully and beautifully, as a woman owned by men. As an Earth female I would never have dared to walk in such a way. Such movements are probably indexed, like physical distances between individuals, to the culture. In Gorean culture, generally, it seemed to me that people stood closer to one another than I was accustomed to on Earth. In this way it was natural for men here, for example, to stand much closer to the scantily clad slave then the average man of, say, northern Europe, on Earth, would be likely to, to a woman of his area. Indeed, he usually stands up and draw her to him, taking her in his arms. The dynamic consequences of these proximities are minimized considerably, of course, by the fact that the slave often kneels in the presence of the free male. It is customary in the kneeling position to remain back a few feet from the male. The kneeling position, itself, expresses the servitude of the slave, and her submission. The distance serves three major purposes. It symbolizes in the distance, as well as in the differential in height, the social inferiority of the slave to the master. It puts the slave in a position where all of her, for the master" s delight, can be seen. A space between the slave and the free male so that the releasing of his rapacity is then likely to require a decision, and is less likely to be simply, reflexively, triggered. This is regarded as being particularly important when the slave is in the presence of a male who is not her master. The kneeling position, thus, interestingly, can occasionally provide a measure of security, if a somewhat tenuous one, for the slave, tending to reduce to some extent the frequency with which, in a culture with such interpersonal proximities, she might otherwise be subjected to unauthorized rape. This same tiny measure of protection, of course, puts her in much greater danger from her real master, for he, observing her, seeing her kneeling beautifully before him, can also delay in his considerations as to her suitable exploitations. How shall he use her? What shall he have her do, and so on. To be sure, sometimes he simply takes her and when he wants her, and almost by reflexive whim. She is his. The main reason why a slave kneels, of course, aside from such subtle and complex considerations, is simply that she is a slave, and that that position, accordingly, is appropriate for her.

I loved the tiny garment! It was the first that I had had since I had come to Gor. In it much of me was still bared, my legs, my hips to the waist, my shoulders, and so on, and it left little doubt about the lineaments of my form, but I loved it. No longer was I absolutely and starkly naked, save for a metal collar. I adjusted the strap on my right shoulder. The small, soft, rounded shoulders of a woman, incidentally, like the rest of a female, Gorean men tend to find very provocative. They seem to relish, and respond to, perhaps to a much greater extent than many of the men of Earth, the entire woman. they are likely to find exciting even such small details of a woman as her delicate ear lobes. That perhaps explains, at least in part, the momentousness of ear piercing to Goreans, which those of Earth take so much for granted. To the Gorean, the piercing of the woman" s ear, with its analog of penetration, and the fixing in it of earrings, chosen by the master, ornamenting her for his pleasure, is an act of power and claimancy scarcely less significant than her branding and collaring. Free women, incidentally, seldom, if ever, bare their shoulders. Doing so is almost like offering themselves for the collar. "If you would be stripped as a slave, then be a slave," it is said. Similarly free women on Gor seldom, if ever, wear earrings, either of the natural or of any other variety, such as the clip variety. Earrings are regarded as being fit, rather, for slaves, and usually the lowest of slaves. Nose rings, interestingly, are not regarded in the same light. They are worn even by some free women, I understand, in the far south, the women of the Wagon Peoples there, as well as, generally, by the female slaves of such peoples. In short, Gorean men seem to find the whole woman exciting. To be sure, the shoulders, for example, lead to the delicious curvatures of the breasts, those, too, the property of the master, and thence to the waist and belly, and thighs, and the slave" s helpless, delicate intimacies. The ear lobes, too, lead to the throat, and thence, beneath the collar, to the shoulders, and so on. Similarly, the foot leads to the ankle, and that to the lusciously rounded calf, and that upward to the thighs, and those, again, in their lovely softness, to the girl" s exposed, hot, open, helpless, delicate intimacies. It is not unusual for a Gorean male, in his zest for females, to cover her entire body, bit by bit, with kisses and caresses, moving toward her helplessness. It is not easy to prevent these attentions, either, as you may well imagine, when you have been simply chained down for his pleasure. Sometimes you scream for him to hasten, begging him with every bit of your female helplessness to do so, but he, of course, will do as he pleases, for you belong to him or he has your use, and he is a free male, the master. I returned then to the foot of the dais, to stand there before Hendow, of the tavern of Hendow, on Dock Street, in Brundisium.

"You are very beautiful," he said.

"Thank you, Master," I said. I was elated that he had see fit to give me a garment. Too, he had said that I was beautiful. I wondered if he liked me. I wondered if I could use that, and possible manipulate him in some way. I decided I had better not try. He was not a man of Earth. He was a Gorean male.

"Yes," he said, "you are very beautiful."

I felt radiant. I did not think he would hurt me now. I did not know, though. The garment I wore, incidentally, was more modest, in its way, than the garment of red silk I had made for myself on Earth, that which Teibar had thrust in my mouth in the library, showing me that I was forbidden to speak. He had withdrawn it from my mouth only on the library table, when I had lain there before him on my back, before he had put the conical rubberized mask over my face, introducing the chemicals into it which had forced me to lose consciousness, a consciousness I had regained only on Gor, awakening to the blows of his whip.

"Do you like the garment?" he asked.

"Yes, Maser!" I said. "Yes, Master!"

"Take it off," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said, tears in my eyes. I stood then before him again, absolutely and starkly naked, except for a metal collar. I clutched the tiny garment in my hand. He could give me such a garment. He could take it away. I must put it on at his command. I must remove it at his command. I was his. Hendow, of the Tavern of Hendow, on Dock Street, in Brundisium, rose from the great chair. He stood on the dais, looming over me. In his hand he held the whip. I looked at the instrument of discipline, frightened.

He then descended from the dais, and stood near me. I looked straight ahead, clutching the tiny garment. He was huge, next to me. I felt very tiny. He put the coils of the whip under my chin, and pressed up a little. I held my chin up. the nearness of his presence, and his virile, brutish masculinity made me terribly uneasy.

"What is your name," he asked.

"Whatever Master pleases," I said, quickly.

I had not yet been named in this house. The words «slut» or «slave» served well enough to summon me. I trembled. I realized I might, in a moment, be named. They that would be who I would be, as simply are that, like any animal. "Come here," he said, "and lie down, on your back, on this step." He had indicated the second step leading to the height of the dais. I complied. "Place your left foot on the first step," he said, "and put your right foot her, on the third step."

I did so. This opened my legs.

"Now," he said, "put your arms back, over your head."

"Yes, Master," I said.

"That exposes your armpits," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said, puzzled.

He looked down at me. "What were you called in the house of your training?" he asked.

"Doreen," I said.

"Very well," he said, "you are Doreen."

"Thank you, Master," I said, named. This had been my name on Earth. I wore it now, of course, only as a slave name. It could have been anything.

"Doreen," he said.

"Yes, Maser," I said, responding to my name.

"You are now to lie as you are," he said, "until you receive permission to change your position. You are to lie in this position, and very quietly. If you do not, it will be extremely dangerous for you. In particular, make no sudden moves."

"Yes, Master," I said, puzzled.

He then went to the side of the room, where there dangled three or four cords. I lifted my head a little to watch him. he drew on one of these cords. I saw a panel lift in the wall. It exposed a low opening, only about a yard in height. It was dark within this portal, but I saw, it stretching backwards, what appeared to be a low, dark tunnel. He then came back, and crouched down, near me, above me, on the third step.

He put his whip aside, near him. He put his hand gently on my collar.

"Master?" I asked.

"Be quiet," he said.

I lay there, quietly. Then, suddenly, I felt hair on the back of my neck rising. "Maser!" I said.

"Lie quietly," he said.

I could now hear, from some distance down the tunnel, the sound of something approaching. It was coming rapidly. I heard snuffling noise. I heard panting. I could hear claws on the floor of the tunnel.

"Lie quietly," cautioned my master, literally holding me in place, his hand gripping my collar.

Then something burst into the room.

Half choking, my head was forced back down, by the collar.

"If you want, keep your eyes closed," he said.

Whatever it was had apparently stopped just within the room.

"It will take a moment for its eyes to adjust to the light," he said. "But it is done very quickly."

The room was not brightly lit.

"I think you will like Borko," he said.

"What is it?" I whispered. My head was held down, back on the second step. "Keep you legs apart," he said. "It is a gray sleen. I raised it from a whelp. Ah, greetings, Borko! How are you, old fellow?"

I would have screamed and reared up, but I was thrust back, helpless, half strangled, scarcely able to utter a sound, to the step. So our masters can control us by our collars. To my terror, then, pushing over my body, to thrust its great jaws and head, so large I could scarcely have put my arms around them, into the hands and arms of my master, was an incredible beast. It had an extremely again, active, sinuous body, as thick as a drum, and perhaps fourteen or fifteen feet long. It might have weighed a thousand pounds. Its broad head was triangular, almost viperlike, but it was furred. This thing was a mammal, or mamalian. Its eyes now had pupils like slits, like those of a cat in sunlight. So quickly then might its adaptive mechanisms have functioned. About its muzzle were gray hairs, grayer than the silvered gray of its fur. It had six legs. "Good lad!" said my master, roughly fondling that great fierce head. "We have been through much together, Borko and I," said my master. "He has even, twice, saved my life. Once when I was struck, unexpectedly, by one foolishly thought to be a friend, the origin of this scar," he said, indicating good-humoredly the hideous, jagged tissue at the left side of his face, "I told Borko to hunt. The fellow did not escape. Borko brought part of him back to me, in his jaws."

I watched in terror as my master, over my body, scratched and pulled, and shoved, at that great head. Clearly he was inordinately fond of that terrible beast, and perhaps it of him. I saw his eyes. He lavished affection upon it. He cared more for it than his girls, I was certain. Perhaps it was the only thing he trusted, other than himself, the only thing he knew that he could rely upon, other than himself, the only thing, of all creatures he knew, who had proved its love and loyalty to him. If this were so, then perhaps it was not incredible that he might bestow upon it a fondness, or love, which he, betrayed perhaps by men, might withhold from others, from men, and slaves.

"Do you know what you and Borko have in common?" he asked me.

"We are both your animals, Master," I said.

"Yes!" he said. "And do you know who is most valuable?"

"No, Master," I said.

"Borko," he said, "is a seasoned hunting sleen. Even to strangers he would bring a hundred times what you would bring in the market."

I was silent. I was frightened with those huge jaws, the two rings of fangs, the long, dark tongue, over me.

"But I would not sell him for anything," he said. "He is worth more to me than ten thousand of you."

"Yes, Master," I whispered.

"Borko!" he said, sternly. "Borko."

The beast pulled back its head, observing him.

"Learn slave," he said. "Learn slave."

I then began to whimper. "Hold still," said my master.

The beast then began to push its nose and muzzle about me, thrusting it here and there, about me. I now understood why I had been spread as I had, on the steps. "The sleen," he said, "and especially the gray sleen, is Gor" s finest tracker. It is a relentless, tenacious tracker. It can follow a scent that is weeks old, for a thousand pasangs."

I whimpered, the beast" s snout thrust between my things, sniffing.

"Please, Master," I whimpered.

I felt it nuzzling then at my waist and breasts. It was learning me.

"Do you know what the sleen hunts?" he asked.

"No, Master," I whimpered.

"In the wild it commonly hunts tabuk and wild tarsk," he said, "but it is an intelligent beast, and it can be trained to hunt anything."

"Yes, Master," I whimpered.

He held back my right arm, further, exposing more the armpit.

"Do you know what Borko is trained to hunt?" he asked.

"No, Master," I said.

I felt the snout of the beast then poking about my throat and under my chin, to the side, and then at the side of my neck. My maser then held my left arm further, exposing the armpit to the beast.

"It is trained to hunt men, and slaves," he said.

"No!" I wept.

I squirmed, but my master held me steady, by the collar and my left wrist, held back. the beast thrust its snout against me, there, in the armpit, and then sniffed along the interior of my left arm, and then along the left side of my body.

I whimpered in terror.

"Try not to be afraid," he said. "That might excite Borka"

"Yes, Master," I whimpered.

Then the beast drew back its head.

"Doreen," said my master to the beast, slowly, clearly. "Doreen. Doreen." The beast again sniffed me.

"Doreen," said my master, grinning to the beast. "Doreen."

I shuddered.

The beast then drew back its head again.

"Back, Borko," said my master, and the beast inched back, its eyes on me. I was shuddering. I dared not move.

"Borko is trained to respond to a variety of signals," he said.

"Yes, Master," I whispered.

"He now knows you," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said.

"Whose are you?" he asked.

"I am yours, Master," I said, quickly.

"Do not try to escape," he said.

"No, Master!" I said. "I will not try to escape!"

"Borko, go back to your kennel," he said. "Go, now!"

The beast then backed off a few feet, and turned. In a moment, it had withdrawn through the low portal. My master went to the cord which controlled the panel, and closed it. I was shuddering on the step. I did not move. I was almost too afraid to do so. Too, I had not been given permission to break position. "Kneel at the foot of the dais," he said. Swiftly I did so. I found I was still clutching the tiny garment I had been given. It had been clutched in the palm of my right hand, all the time. It was now wet with sweat. The prints of my nails were deep in it.

He retrieved the whip and ascended to the height of the dais, where he took his place in the great chair.

He looked down at me, the whip across his knees.

Perhaps now, Earth woman," he said, "you understand more clearly what your situation is on this world?"

I shuddered.

"Do you understand, girl?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," I said.

"Stand," he said.

I stood.

"You may put on your garment," he said.

Quickly I donned the tiny garment, and drew it down, as I could, about me. I stood there.

"Yes," he said, "you are beautiful."

"Thank you, Master," I said. I flushed with pleasure. I was valuable. Doubtless I would be a high slave.

He stood. "Mirus!" he called. Mirus was one of his men. I knew him from the house. He had brought me to this chamber. In a moment, Mirus appeared through the door, that at the end of the carpet, that leading into this chamber. He approached, and took up a position a bit behind me and to my left."

"She is lovely, isn" t she?" my master asked Mirus.

"Yes," he said.

"Do you like your garment?" my master asked me.

"Yes, Master," I said. I recalled the last time he had asked this I had been shortly thereafter ordered to remove it. He could do that again, and I would again be forced to disrobe, and instantly. Too, this time it would also be before Mirus. It is one thing to come naked before a man, and another to strip yourself, or be stripped, before him. too, it is something else again, to do this, or have it done to you, before others. Mirus was not my master, but only my master" s man. To be sure, I was a slave, and would have to obey. Coming nude before men, and stripping herself, or being stripped, befoe them are things such as a slave girl must expect. After all, what else could she expect? She is, after all, a slave. Indeed, sometimes girls are stripped in public, even in the squares, because masters are so pleased to show them off. Sometimes this occurs in heated discussions of the relative merits of different master" s girls, and the girls are ordered to disrobe on the spot, sometimes then being put through slave paces, there, on the very tiles of the squares and plazas, the matter being left to the acclamations or votes of the spectators, and woe to the girl who comes out second best in such a contest! Too, it is not uncommon, as a discipline, to send a girl out naked on errands. In such a case she is often locked in an iron belt. Too, it is not unusual, in taverns, particularly lower taverns, as I would learn, for girls to be publicly naked. I was diffident though, at this time, to remove my clothing before Minus. I would have been embarrassed, or humiliated, to do so. I was not yet a brazen slut. I had not yet even been on the floor of the tavern. My attitude, of course, I understood, was undoubtedly a bit irrational. Minus, after all, had seen me naked. Indeed, he had never, really, seen me clothed. He as the one, incidentally, who had unhooded and ungagged me in this house. He had been pleased with my face. He had then unroped the blanket which had been tied about me, and opened it, folding it back, almost as though I might have been a present. "Superb," he had said, this pleasing me. "Are you white silk?" he had asked. "Yes, Master," I had said, shrinking back from him in the manacles. He had then taken me down to the basement, removed the manacles, put me on my hands and knees, and thrust me into my kennel, locking it behind me. Why, then, was I embarrassed, or humiliated, at the thought that I might now be ordered to disrobe in his presence? I was not sure. I supposed it was because I was not yet fully adjusted to my slavery. I was not yet a brazen slave. I had not yet, at that time, even been put out on the floor of the tavern. Perhaps I still thought, at that time, that the fullness of my beauty was, particularly, for my master, and not for others. I did not really stop to think, at that time, however, that Hendow was a tavern owner, and that, thus, the fullness of my beauty was not only for him, but, as he saw fit, or as it might please him, also for his customers.

"She looks lovely in the garment, doesn" t she?" asked Hendow. I gathered he was proud of me.

"Yes," said Mirus.

I again felt the suffusion of pleasure in my body. I looked down, shyly, smiling. My master, I was sure, liked me. I did not think, now, he would order me to remove the garment before Mirus. I recalled that he had paid the highest price for me of any girl at the market. I was valuable. I would be a high slave! "Do you know, Doreen," asked my master, "what sort of tunic it is?" "No, Master," I said.

"It is a kitchen tunic," he said.

I looked at him, startled.

"Take her to the kitchen," he said to Mirus. "Teach her to clean pots and pans." "Yes, Hendow," said Mirus. Then he turned about. "Come, slave," he said. Quickly I fell to my knees before Hendow, he in the great chair on the dais, and put my head to the carpet, the palms of my hands, too, on the carpet, beside my head, performing slave obeisance. I then leaped up, turned, and hurried after Mirus, who, now, at the end of the carpet, was near the exit. "Mirus," called Hendow.

Mirus looked back to the dais.

"See that her dance lessons continue," he said.

"It will be so, Hendow," said Mirus.

"And double them," said Hendow.

"Yes, Hendow," said Mirus. He then turned about and left. I fell again to my knees at the far end of the carpet, and again performed slave obeisance. I then leaped up, again, and hurried after Mirus.

He would take me to the kitchen, where I would be put to work.