Dancer of Gor

13 The Passageway; Intrigues

I hurried back, elatedly, through the beaded curtain, fleeing, laughing, from the dancing floor. I had scrambled on my knees for the coins flung to the floor, seizing them, thrusting them hastily, so many of them, with one hand, into the lifted, bunched portion, held by my other hand, of the dancing skirt, a lovely, swirling skirt, scarlet, open on the right, of diaphanous dancing silk. I had been permitted a scarlet halter of the same material. My midriff, like my right thigh, was bared. The skirt was low on my hips. I wore a double belt of threaded, jangling coins, one strand high, one low, as with the corded belt of metal pieces I had worn in my virgin dance, weeks ago. I also wore a triple necklace of coins, together with necklaces of slave beads, of both glass and wood. These coins, all of them, would be counted by Mirus when I disrobed. On my left ankle were bound slave bells. My right ankle wore several anklets. I was barefoot. On my wrists were bracelets. On my upper left arm was a coiled armlet. A ruby, held by a chain, was at my forehead. Wound in and about my hair were strands of pearls.

"It is a good house tonight," said Mirus, who was waiting for me.

"Yes, Master!" I said, happily. I could hear the men still calling out and pounding at their shoulders with appreciation. I looked at Mirus. Should I hurry back through the curtain?

"No," he said. "Stay here."

"Yes, Master," I said.

"Here," he said, holding open the sack. I emptied the coins from the dancing silk into the sack, and smoothed the skirt.

"You dance well," he said.

"Thank you, Master!" I said, happily. On Earth I had never dreamed that I would dance as a slave before masters.

"You have done much for the tavern of Hendow," he said.

"I am pleased, if I have been found pleasing," I said. I gave the ruby on its chain, from my forehead, to Mirus. He put it in his wallet. I then began to unwind the strands of pearls from my hair.

"Receipts are up twenty percent from a month ago," he said.

"I am pleased," I said. I handed the pearls to Mirus, who put them, as he had the chain and ruby, in his wallet.

"You are finding yourself now as a dancer," he said.

"I have been in the arms of men," I laughed, "men such as you, Master, who know how to turn a girl into a woman, and a woman into a slave."

"I think," he said, "you may be one of the finest dancers in Brundisium." This startled me.

"You are really quite good," he said.

"Thank you, Master," I said.

"Hendow" s investment in you was a sound one," he said. "You are paying off well for him."

"I am pleased to hear that," I said. I was also relieved to hear it. I did not know what would have been done to me, had it been otherwise. I supposed I might have been muchly whipped.

"But you still have many things to learn," he said.

"It is my hope that master will consent to teach me some of them," I said. "Sassy she-tarsk," he said.

I laughed, but I was not altogether joking. Mirus was one of those men of a sort to whom, when my needs were enough on me, I could crawl, pleading. And he knew that, the brute. Certainly I had crawled to him enough! and, when my needs were enough upon me, of course, I was ready to crawl to any man, pleading, perhaps even to one of Earth, but they, probably, to my frustration, disappointment, and agony, would not know what to do with a slave. I was pleased to be on Gor, where men well understood the handling of imbonded females. I lifted the necklaces from my neck. I gave that of coins to Mirus, which he put on top of the coins in the sack, and I put the others in the box which was on the floor, just within the curtain.

"You are coming along well in your slavery, Doreen," he said.

"Thank you, Master," I said. I looked at him. he made me feel hot between the thighs. I was only a slave.

"You were beautiful tonight, Doreen," said Ina, hurrying by in slave bells. "Thank you," I said.

Too, Ina wore a snatch of diaphanous yellow silk. The girls in Hendow" s tavern now often went silked on the floor, not naked, as before. "We are becoming quite fashionable," had said Sita, reaching eagerly for her tiny bit of silk. Tupita, had, however, only cast me a glance of hatred. To be sure, she did not refuse her own bit of silk. In most paga taverns, of course, the girls are silked. Usually it is only in the meanest, the cheapest and lowest of taverns that the girls serve naked, much as would the females of a conquered city at the victory feast of their conquerors, now, or soon to be, their masters. Slave silk, and certainly that sort which is commonly worn in paga taverns and upon occasion in brothels, when the girls are permitted clothing there, is generally diaphanous. It leaves little doubt as to the beauty of the slave. Some girls claim they would rather be naked, claiming that such silk makes them "more naked than naked," but most girls, and I think, even those, too, who speak in such a way, are grateful for even the wisp of gossamer shielding it provides against the imperious appraisals of masters, even though it must be pulled away or discarded instantly at a man" s whim. Too, I think most girls know that they are very beautiful in such silk, and this, I suspect, is why they love it, and treasure it. Free women, on Gor, it seems, are frightened even to look upon such material, apparently finding it scandalously offensive, or somehow profoundly disturbing to them, let alone let it touch their body. Some free women, captured, when such stuff is thrown to them, profess to prefer death to putting it on, but when the choice is that which is acturally offered to them they put it on quickly enough. too, such women, it si said, make excellent slaves. But Goreans believe, of course, that any woman, properly handled, becomes an excellent slave. I think this may be true. It is true, at any rate, in my case. There are a large number of ways in which slave silk is worn. It can be worn, for example, on the shoulder or off the shoulder, with high necklines or plunging necklines, in open or closed garments, tightly or flowingly, and in various lengths. Sometimes it is put on the girl only in halters and G-strings, or mere G-strings. Sometimes it is done, too, in strips wound about her body. The tying of slave girdles, with such silk, and otherwise, to emphasize the girl" s figure and make clear her bondage, is an art in itself. Often, too, and as usually in paga taverns, it is worn in brief tunics. Most of these are partable or wraparound tunics. Such may be removed gracefully. Some tunics, however, like some regular slave tunics, have a disrobing loop, usually at the left shoulder, where it may easily be reached by both a right-handed master and a right-handed slave. A tug on the disrobing loop drops the tunic to the girl" s ankles, also gracefully.

I sat down on the tiles there within the hall, near the beaded curtain, at the feet of Mirus, easily, as a slave girl, thinking nothing of it, sits at the feet of a man, and slipped the anklets from my right ankles, putting them in the box to my left.

I decide to pretend not to notice how he was looking at me.

I felt briefly like a pet at his feet, and there I supposed that a sense that I was pet, and that all we girls were, at least in a sense, pets, slave pets. But we were a thousand times more than mere pets, we were slaves, total slaves. I put my bracelets in the box, and then the armlet from my upper left arm. I tried to undo the thong on the bells on my left ankle. the knows were tight, drawn by a man" s hand. I fought with them. My fingers were small and weal. "Let me help you," said Mirus, and crouched down, near me. He had put the bells on me. It is often men who put slave bells on their girls. Such bells are indicative of bondage. Accordingly I suppose it makes sense that they might enjoy putting them on us, like brands and collars. Some men even dress their girls, us, and, always, the girl" s choices of such things as garb, cosmetics, perfume, jewelry, and such, and, indeed, her entire ensemble, are subject to the master" s approval. Indeed, most often, whether it only a simple tunic, before she hurries forth to shop, or in luscious slave silk and exciting adornments, before she is to welcome and serve her master" s guests, displaying herself as one of his treasures, she is expected to present herself before him, for his inspection. She is owned.

He held my ankle. his hands were very strong. I put down my head, so that he might not see my eyes.

He then, in a moment or two, had the thong loose, and, its loops unwound, five of them, dropped it, with its strung bells, in the box.

But his hands then were on my ankles.

I looked at him."Are you naked beneath the silk?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," I smiled. He knew that. Indeed, as the silk was diaphanous, he could, for most practical purposes, see that.

"Slave naked?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," I said. This, somehow, is a far more disturbing, or meaningful, admission than the first. Somehow the nakedness of a slave seems far more naked that the nakedness of a free woman. doubtless this has to do with her being a property, and owned. Too, "slave naked" suggests being naked naked, so to speak, being helplessly naked, as a slave is helplessly naked. It has, sometimes, too, the connotation of being vulnerably, and arousably, naked, as a slave is helplessly, vulnerably, and arousably naked.

He looked at me.

"Yes, Master," I whispered. "Beneath the silk that is the way I am naked, slave naked."

I felt slave arousal. I could not help myself. Long ago, now, weeks ago, men had lit slave fires in my belly.

I was aroused, and as a slave.

To be sure, I had no understanding, at that time, of what could become the fuller impact of these things. I was still, at that time, in effect, a new slave.

Then he removed his hands from my ankles.

"Master?" I asked.

"Stand," he said. We both stood. "Belt," he said.

I reached behind me and undo the double belt of coins, with its two loops, one high one low. The coins on the belt, as well as those on the necklace, would be counted by Mirus.

"You look well with your hands behind your back," he said.

I looked up.

"Your hands are now bound behind your back," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said. I must now keep my hands or wrists in contact with one another, and behind my back. I was now "bound by the master" s will." I could not separate my hands or wrists from one another now without permission. There are many ways, of course, of "binding by the master" s will." The behind-the-back position is one of the simplest and loveliest. This exposes the girl, frames the beauty of her breasts and makes her helpless. That the bond is a "will bond," too, makes clear to her the power of the master over her. Another common bond of this sort is when the girl must kneel, grasping her ankles. another is when she is forced to sit and reach forward between her legs, passing the right arm from inside the right thigh to outside and beneath the right calf, to grasp the right ankle between her legs, passing the right arm from inside the right ankle from the outside, the left arm from inside the left thigh to outside and beneath the left calf, to grasp the left ankle in the same way. In this position she is helpless and cannot rise. Too, after a time, it becomes apparent to her that she also cannot close her legs. A girl may be kept in such bonds for hours. Too, of course, she may be tied in such a position. There are also, of course, different ways of decreeing such bonds. For example, with the behind-the-back-hands-tied bond in which I had been placed I could have been informed, but had not been, that my shoulders were pulled tightly back, which, of course, forces the breasts forward for the pleasure, or attentions, of the master.

"I think I shall find it difficult to remove the belt," I smiled, "bound as I am."

He stood close to me, and put his arms about me. "I shall remove it," he said. Tupita came then through the beaded curtain. She glanced at me. She was not pleased to see me in the arms of Mirus, who was a desirable male, and first among my master" s men. She looked at me in hatred. She did not think twice about the position of my hands. She could see I had been "bound by the master" s will." It could have been done as easily to her, at a word.

She came close to Mirus. She licked at his shoulder. "Will you call for me tonight?" she asked.

"No," he said. "Return to the floor."

"Yes, Master," she said, and, with a look of fury, cast at me, slipped back through the curtain.

"You are good for Tupita," he told me. "Because of you she is becoming more attentive and more desperate to please."

"I am attentive and desperate to please," I said.

"Yes," he said, "but not because of her."

"No, Master," I said.

"Because you are a slave," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said. How I loved his arms about me!

"You are a splendid natural slave," he said.

"I knew it even on Earth," I whispered to him. Indeed, I had even wondered, strangely, at times, I supposed, if I might not have been a slave in former lives, in other eras, perhaps in the Ancient World or in the Medieval Middle East, in times more in tune with the true matters of human beings, natures as they really were, in themselves, and not as they might be when denied, thwarted, twisted and perverted by ideological insanities. And, at times, recollecting, or seeming to recollect, such times and places, and their naturalness, and rightness, and their fulfillments and ecstasies. I, lonely and yearning, seemingly an exile in the sexual deserts of my own world and time, had wept. But regardless of the truth or falsity of such things, and regardless of the explanations or reasons for the things which lay so deep within me, whether they were recollective or merely the irrepressible fruits of genetic truths, so anomalous in my own time, so uncharacteristic of everything I had been taught. I had known they had lain within me. That was incontrovertible. I knew that I, who was then Doreen Williamson, had been born for the collar. I had never expected then, however, to wear it. I had never even suspected there was such a world as Gor where, as my capture master Teibar, had put it, "women such as I were bought and sold."

"Of course," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said.

"What was you master like on Earth?" he asked.

"I did not have a master on Earth," I said.

"You, a woman like you, so obviously a natural slave, did not have a master?" he asked, interested.

"No, Master," I said.

"You were not a legal slave on Earth?" he asked.

"No, Master," I smiled. "I did not become a legal slave until I was brought to Gor."

"Surely the men of Earth are somewhat imperceptive," he said. "Some of them, perhaps, Master," I smiled.

"Here," he said, "we have made good their oversight."

"That is true," I smiled.

He looked down, into my eyes. "You should have been a legal slave on Earth," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said. I supposed that was true. But then, too, I supposed that many women on Earth should be made slaves. Certainly I had known many women who might have profited, and considerably, in one way or another, from bondage. Certainly I had sometimes speculated what one or another of them might have looked like, as a slave. Also, of course, I had often considered what I myself might have looked like, as a slave. It was for such a reason, I suppose, at least in part, as well as for the stimulation and truth, and fittingness, of it, that I had made the tiny garment of red silk I had had on Earth.

"But doubtless," he said, "even if you somehow managed to escape the collar on your own world, to be caught and rightfully wear it here, women such as you are almost universally held in bondage on Earth."

"No, Master," I said.

"Why not?" he asked.

"I do not know, Master," I said.

"Certainly they should be," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said, humbly. It was true.

"Here," he said, "they would wear their collars."

"Yes, Master," I said. I did not doubt that that was true. Here, on Gor, women such as I, surely, would be swiftly sorted out, taken in hand, prepared for sale, and sold.

"But, at least, you were a collar now, as you should," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said.

"You are now, at last, a legal slave."

"Yes, Master," I said, frightened. I was now, truly, here on this world, as I might have been in Ur, or Sumer, or Babylon, or Assyria, or Chaldea, or Egypt, or Greece, or Rome, or Persia, or Barbary, a legal slave, a slave held in full legality.

"Does it frighten you," he asked, "to find that you are a legal slave?" "Sometimes," I said.

"Does it terrify you?" he asked.

"Sometimes," I said.

"That makes no difference, of course," he said.

"I know," I said.

"You are a slave," he said, "whether you like it or not. That is simply what you are, that and only that. you are absolutely helpless to alter or change your condition in any way, as much as a vulo or a tarsk."

"I know," I said.

I felt his hands on my hips.

Sometimes I was terrified by the collar on my neck, knowing its meaning, knowing that it, like my brand, marked me slave, knowing how it put me at the mercy of masters, knowing that anything could be done to me.

His grip was bold. He was a master. I was a slave.

I tried to press my belly against him. His hands prevented this.

"You belong in a collar," he said.

"I know! I know!" I whispered.

"You are a superb collar-slut," he whispered.

"Tupita is your favorite," I whispered, frightened.

"No," he said.

"Who then?" I gasped, his grip tight on me, but holding me from him. "Doreen," he whispered.

"No!" I whispered.

"Are you afraid of Tupita?" he asked. "She is only a slave."

"I, too, am only a slave," I said, "and she is first girl!"

"She is losing her grip on the girls," he said. "She may not be first girl for long."

"Oh?" I asked. That interested me, that Tupita might be reduced in rank, to being then only one slut among others, she herself then having to kneel to another girl, be subject to her disciplines, and address her as "Mistress." "Who would be first girl?" I asked.

"It would not be you," he said. "You are from Earth."

"I do not want to be first girl," I said.

"Too," he said, "you are not the sort of woman who should be giving orders, but taking them."

"I am ready to take your orders now," I said.

"Are you no longer afraid of Tupita?" he asked.

"I am a slave," I said, lightly. "I must obey."

"I think it would probably be Aynur," he said, "Who would be the new first girl."

"Not Sita?" I asked.

"She has been too closely allied with Tupita," he said. "Do you think Aynur would make a good first girl?" he asked.

"I think so," I said. "She would be strict, but, I think, she would be fair."

"That, too, is the estimation of Hendow," he said.

"I think it is true," I said.

"You have great respect, it seems," he said, "for the judgment of Hendow." "He is my master," I said, guardedly. I did, in fact, have great respect for the judgment and intelligence of Hendow. Gross and loathsome as he might be, I had never, after our first interview, doubted his probity and acumen, nor, more significantly, from my point of view, his insight and native shrewdness. My most secret thoughts seemed to be open to him. He could read me like a book, or a naked, frightened slave.

"And he purchased you," said Mirus.

"Yes!" I laughed.

I felt his thumbs at the sides of my belly.

"I like these rounded bellies on women," he said. "In them a man may lose himself with pleasure. I do not like those firm, flat bellies on women." I said nothing. I felt his thumbs. They were not hurting me. I was pleased, of course, that Mirus, such a man, and such a master, found my sort of woman, one running more to the statistical norms of the human female, pleasing, as I wanted him to find me pleasing. Firm, flat bellies are less popular in women with Gorean men than among the men of Earth. Perhaps the Goreans find such bellies rather too much like those of boys, or young men. I do not know. Before her sale a girl is sometimes even forced to drink a liter or so of water, to round her belly more. I had had to do this in Market of Semris. Similarly, and perhaps for similar reasons, Gorean men tend, on the whole, it seems, to prefer normal-sized, lovely breasted, sweetly thighed women, with broad love cradles, as opposed to unusually tall, breastless, narrow-thighed women with narrow hips. Accordingly, such women, regarding themselves as unusually desirable by Earth standards, probably have little to fear from the slaver" s noose, unless they can compensate in other ways, as by an unusual beauty of features or an extremely high intelligence. A woman who regards herself as a beauty on Earth might, accordingly, find herself laboring in the public kitchens or laundries on Gor. She would then have to learn, from the beginning, so to speak, and perhaps lengthily and painfully, how to please men as best she can, within her imposed physic limitations. And some of these girls, I understand, eventually, in spite of those limitations, become jewels and treasures to their masters. The most important criteria for slave selection, however, I suspect, are such things as having extremely strong female urges and incredible profound emotional depths.

"Perhaps Master desires to remove the belt from me," I said. "As I am bound, I cannot do so."

"Do you know that you are beautiful?" he asked.

"Some men have been kind enough to tell me so," I said. "I do not know, of course, if they are correct or not."

"They are correct," he said.

"Thank you, Master," I said. It pleased me if Mirus should find me beautiful. He was a strong and handsome master. I wanted to serve him.

"Are you familiar with the ratings posted in the baths?" he asked.

"I have heard of such things," I said, reddening.

"In several of them," said he, "you now hold highest ranking in the tavern of Hendow."

"Higher than Inger?" I asked. "Then Aynur, than Tupita?"

"Yes," he said. "In some of them, at least."

"I am not better than them, really," I said. "I am sure of that." "That is for men to decide," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said, frightened.

"But," said he, grinning, "you are probably right. You are all, doubtless, ultimately, very similar. You are all marvelous slaves. Such ratings are notoriously subjective. Some women will appeal more to one man, and some to another. Too, you are newer, and thus fresher to the tastes, and this perhaps accounts at least in part for your position in the rankings. When your popularity has crested you will perhaps subside to being merely another luscious and marvelous slave."

I looked at him.

"Too, you are a dancer," he said, "and this has undoubtedly improved your position. Many dancers, even plainer ones, hold high rankings."

"Yes, Master," I said.

"But one thing is certain," he said, "suck rankings, even granting their subjectivity, and their silliness, and all the nonsense and absurdity associated with them, point to something, and that is your beauty and desirability." I looked at him, frightened.

"You are one of the most beautiful and desirable slaves in Brundisium," he said. "I am in your grasp," I whispered.

I would have pressed my belly against him but I could not do so. He held me from him. I would have reached forth to touch him, but I could not do so. My hands had been bound behind my back, by his will.

"Hendow has received several offers for you," he said, "excellent ones, but he has not sold you."

I was startled. So simply I could change masters!

"Do you wish to know their nature?" he asked.

"Curiosity," I said, humbly, "is not becoming in a kajira."

"Very well," he said.

"Please! Please!" I begged.

"Two of them were from other tavern owners," he said. "But several have been from private individuals."

I wondered what it would be like to have a private master. I would surely try to serve such a one well. Almost all girls hope, someday, to have a private master. "What were the amounts?" I asked, eagerly.

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

"Yes!" I said.

"One was for seven tarsks," he said.

"Seven!" I cried. "I am not worth so much."

"True," he said. "I myself only offered five."

"Five!" I cried.

"Yes," he admitted.

"You made an offer on me?" I asked, delighted.

"Yes," he said.

I wondered what it would be like to be owned by Mirus. Slaves often wonder what it would be to be owned by this man, or that. I found him extremely attractive. If he purchased me, I would certainly try to serve him well. Of course, too, any man who purchased me I would have to serve well, and, indeed, as I was a Gorean slave girl, in so far as I could, perfectly.

"I am not worth five tarsks," I laughed.

"True," he said.

"Why, then, did you offer so much?" I asked.

"I was drunk," he said.

"Tonight," I said, "I am not scheduled to return to the floor." "I know," he said.

"Master prepared the schedules," I laughed.

"Yes," he said.

"Summon me to your quarters," I whispered. "I will show you that maybe I am worth five tarsks after all!"

"Perhaps I will summon Tupita," he said.

"No, Doreen," I said.

"Did you know that Hendow is thinking of placing restrictions on your use?" he asked.

"Why would he do that?" I asked.

"I think he is fond of you," he said.

"I am pleased, if my master finds me pleasing," I said.

"Has he never ordered you to him?" asked Mirus.

"No," I said.

"Interesting," said Mirus. "Normally he disciplines new girls well." I shuddered. I had no doubt that Hendow, my master, could discipline a woman well. He seemed remote, and mighty. He was the master of the entire tavern, and of all the girls. There were twenty-seven of us. I was terrified of him. "But I do not think he will really put restrictions on your us," he said. "Why not?" I asked.

"I do not think it would be good for your discipline," he said.

"I understand," I said. In relationships between men and women, it is a common observation that the relationship tends to be improved considerably when the woman is subject to his usage. When she knows that that a fellow may, if he wishes, simply hurl her to his feet and put her to woman uses, she is likely to behave rather differently toward him than toward one who does not have this power over her.

"You have not displeased him lately, have you?" asked Mirus.

"Not to my knowledge," I said. "I hope not."

"Something is going to be done to you," he said.

"What?" I asked, apprehensively.

"But if you have not displeased him lately," he said, "I gather that it is not being inflicted as a punishment."

"What?" I asked.

"You haven" t heard?" he asked."No," I said.

"A leather worker is coming to the tavern tomorrow, with his kit," he said. "Why?" I asked.

"I" m sorry," he said. "I thought someone would have told you." "What?" I asked.

"It is nothing to fear," he said.

"What?" I said.

"It is done to many slaves," he said.

I looked at him, frightened.

"You have not displeased Hendow?" he asked.

"I do not think so," I said.

"That is what I thought," he said. "Then it is being done merely to improve you, to make you even more desirable."

"Please, Master," I said, "I am a helpless slave. What is to be done to me?" "Hendow is going to have your ears pierced," he said.

I looked at him, disbelievingly.

"It is true," he said, gravely.

I tried not to laugh.

"What is wrong?" he said.

I laughed, out loud in his grasp.

"I do not understand," he said.

"That is all?" I asked.

"All?" he asked. "Do you not understand the gravity of this?"

"I always wanted to have my ears pierced," I said. "Only I never had the courage."

"You wanted it?" he asked, startled.

"Yes," I said.

"What a slave!" he breathed.

"Oh?" I asked. To be sure, I was a slave, in my heart, as well as now, on this world, whether I wished it or not, and helplessly, in all public legality. "Surely you know that if such a thing were done to you," he said, "no man thereafter could look you except as a slave."

I laughed. "I am a slave," I said.

"It is so barbaric," he said.

"Perhaps," I said.

"How exciting you will be with your ears pierced," he said.

I smiled.

"You do not mind?" he asked.

"No," I said.

"Interestingly enough," he said, "once it is done, afterwards, few girls mind. Indeed, many are thrilled with what has been done to them, and are eager to display themselves to men in their new condition, and delight and revel in the new ornaments which they may then wear, so excitingly enhancing their appearance."

"I can understand that," I said.

"You see," he said, "it makes available to them a diverse and fantastic array of new adornments."

"Yes, Master," I said.

"How beautiful yo will be in such adornments!"

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

"You must understand, of course," he said, "that there are dangers inherent in having your ears pierced."

What dangers, Master?" I asked.

"Those attendant on having been made additionally desirable to strong men," he said.

"I understand," I said. I had recognized, of course, that such things as my garb, or lack of it, my brand, burned into my body, my collar, which I could not remove, placed on me by men, and such, and, above all, my condition, that of slave, had made me far more sexually stimulatory to men than I would otherwise have been but I had never, along the same lines, given much thought, or at least in detail, to the idea that, in this culture, similar effects might be consequent on things which, from the point of view of a girl from Earth, were as simple and familiar as having pierced ears or wearing earrings. To be sure, pierced ears, and wearing earrings, were stimulatory, too, I was sure, even to men of Earth, or, at least, to those who were capable of responding to such things, the piercings of the woman" s flesh, with its allegory of penetration, of her appropriate submission to the mastery, and the use of these piercings, making and recollecting them, to mount upon her beautiful adornments. I had sensed the barbaric and sexual connotations of these sorts of things on Earth, and, perhaps because of them, had always feared to have my ears pierced there. Here, of course, it was going to be done to me, whether I wished it or not. I was not discontented. I was, indeed, extremely pleased.

"I am eager to see you in such ornaments," he whispered.

"Kiss me," I whispered.

My hands were together behind my back. I could not part them without permission. "Perhaps if your ears were pierced," he said, "I should find your request irresistible."

"Then I hope, Master," I said, "that they shall soon be pierced." "They will be," he said.

I trembled, then, a bit, understanding then, a little more than before, what it might be, on this world, to have pierced ears.

He took his hands from my hips and put them further above me, to remove from my waist the double belt of coins.

I pressed my body against his.

"Were you given permission to approach me?" he asked.

"No, Master," I said. "Forgive me, Master." Swiftly I drew back, so that our bodies were not touching. But my breasts were but an ince from his broad, strong chest. And they were bound, and covered, in only tissures of slave silk. I felt much alive, and frustrated, and hot, and charged, and helpless. I was under his control, totally, I was even "bound by his will." My midriff was bared. This too, excited me, its exposure, and its nearness to him. I wanted to thrust my belly, in its low-hanging drape of delicate silk, against him. I felt his hands behind me, beneath mine, where I had them together, bound by his will.

"Please!" I begged.

I felt him disengage the large clasp at the back of the belt, to which both strands of coins, on each side, were fastened.

"Please," I said.

He took the belt and dropped it into the nearby sack, with the coined necklace and the coins I had picked up and brought back from the dancing floor, weighty in my lifted silk.

He looked down at me. My head came only to his shoulders.

"Do you beg?" he asked.

"Yes!" I said.

"Who begs?" he asked.

"Doreen begs," I said.

"Doreen what?" he asked.

Doreen, the slave, begs!" I said.

"To my lips, slave," he said.

Gratefully, eagerly, I pressed forward, rising on my toes, he half lifting me, his hands under my arms, holding me.

I melted to him.

"Unbind me!" I begged. I wanted to put my arms about him.

"Do you wish to be beaten?" he asked.

"No, Master!" I said.

We kissed, so together, the two of us, as to be almost one thing, and I almost swooned in his power. I fought, seemingly only half conscious for a moment, to keep my hands together behind my back. then he put me down and back a little. "I am still bound!" I moaned.

"And you may stay that way," he said, huskily.

"As Master pleases!" I said, sensing the urgency in him.

He then held me from him, by the arms.

"You have the ruby on its chain, which was on my forehead, and the pearls which were in my hair," is aid. "You have the coins cast by masters on the dancing floor, which I gathered for you. You have the necklace, the belt! The other things, the ornaments, the slave beads, the bells, are in the box. Surely now, you wish to store my silk!"

He smiled.

"Tear off my silk," I begged. "Take me here, on the tiles, in the passageway! I am ready! I beg for it!"

"Coin check," he said.

"Of course, Master!" I wept. How well he reminded me I was a slave! "Open your mouth," he said. I felt his finger run about within my mouth. Mirus was efficient. He would not forget to subject me to coin check.

"Hold still," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said.

He was thorough.

Some girls, I had been told, sometimes try to swallow small coins but this is foolish. The coin can be produced swiftly enough in such cases by emetics and laxatives. Similarly, her wastes my be subjected to unscheduled examinations. Too, even if she is successful in recovering the coin herself, there is usually little she can do with it. There are few places to conceal such objects in a cell or kennel. Similarly, she is often under surveillance, of one sort or another, by other slaves or free persons. Also, if she should be found to be in possession of a coin or coins, for example, by a tradesmen, guardsmen, or any free person, she will be expected to have an excellent explanation for this anomaly, which is then likely to be checked with her master. In most cities, even the touching of money, unless in an authorized situation, is prohibited to slaves. They cannot, of course, own money, any more than any other form of animal.

I looked at Mirus, tears in my eyes.

"What is going on here?" asked Hendow, who had approached down the passageway. Swiftly I knelt, and put my head to the floor before my master. My hands were still held behind me, as I had been bound by a man" s will.

"She has danced," said Mirus.:We have just completed coin check." "Lift your head," said Hendow.

Immediately I did so, and then knelt there, in the dancing silk, my knees wide, my hands behind my back, a woman before men, a slave before masters.

"I trust all the coins are accounted for," he said.

"I have not yet counted," said Mirus.

"Should she not be back on the floor by now?" asked Hendow. "She does not return to the floor tonight," said Mirus, "unless you wish to send her forth there."

"It is so on the schedule?" asked Hendow.

"Yes," said Mirus.

"Very well," said Hendow, and then continued on his way, through the curtain, out to the public area.

I looked up at Mirus.

"Stand," he said.

I did so. Then I was before him, again. My hands were still behind my back. He looked at me.

I lifted my rib cage a little. I pulled my arms back a bit, further accentuating my figure.

"Please," I whimpered.

"You should be returned to the slave area," he said, "or put in your kennel, where you belong."

"I do not belong in my kennel now," I pouted.

"Where do you belong now?" he asked.

"In your arms," I said.

"I do not think Hendow is pleased that I should hold you," he said. "I am free to all his men," I said, "and you are one of his men." "True," he said.

"Will you not summon me to your quarters tonight?" I asked, plaintively. "It is perhaps better that I not do so," he mused.

"As Master pleases," I said, indifferently, shrugging. I did not dare, of course, take my hands from behind my back.

He looked at me, and I tossed my head, haughtily, and looked away from him. I had not been dismissed yet, of course. I could not see his eyes, but I supposed he was considering whether or not I should be whipped. It could be done to me as simply as by his whim.

"So you think you are a free woman?" he asked.

"No, Master," I said.

"I thought you might," he said.

"No, Master," I said. "I am under no delusion on that score."

He must have been looking at me. I had the feeling I was being looked at, as a slave.

"Am I dismissed?" I asked.

"Beware," he said.

"Perhaps I have concealed a coin in my halter," I said, "or in a fold of my slave silk."

"Have you?" he asked, amused.

"You will not know, will you," I asked, "unless you have checked?" "You look well in slave silk," he said.

"Thank you, Master," I said.

"You would look better without it," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said. He then unknotted the silk of the halter, from about my neck, and behind my back, and drew it away from me. I stood as close to him as I could, without actually daring to touch him.

I saw him lean forward and, his eyes briefly closed, revel in the scent of my perfume. It was perfume of a sort not worn by free women on Gor. It was slave perfume. Such perfume says to men, in effect, "This is a slave. Use her as you will."

"Are you haughty now?" he asked.

"No," I said.

"There are tears in your eyes," he said.

"My need is on me," I said, "and I am helpless."

He dropped the silk to the floor, beside him.

"You may kneel," he said.

Swiftly I knelt, and then looked up at him.

"Speak," he said.

"I, Doreen, the slave, beg use," I said.

He looked down upon me.

I squirmed on my knees before him, in misery and frustration, my hands behind my back.

"You are ready, aren" t you?" he asked.

"Yes, Master!" I said.

"Please touch me!" I wept.

"You beg it?" he said.

"Yes, Master!" I wept. "I beg it!"

"Since first I saw you, when I had unroped the shipping blanket, and put its folds to the sides, revealing you, helplessly manacled, when you first came to the house from Market of Semris," he said, "I dreamed that you would one day be so hot and needful before me, and would beg me for my touch."

I was astonished and delighted to hear this, that so mighty a man as this Gorean master, second in this house to Hendow, my master, might have found me attractive, and from so long ago. But this did not, of course, relieve in the least the desperate needs I felt. It did not reduce my tensions. It did not diminish or assuage my sufferings. I still knelt helpless before him. "It is interesting," he said, "what can be done with a woman."

"Please, Master!" I wept. I who had once been Doreen Williamson, a shy, lovely librarian on Earth, had now begun to feel slave needs. To be sure, at that time, kneeling before Mirus, I had no idea how acute such things could become. He looked down at me, amused.

"Mock me as a needful slave," I said, "but I beg of you, touch me!" He was silent.

"I am a naked slave," I said. "I kneel before you! I beg use!"

he savored my desperation. I wished for a foolish moment that I might be again like a woman of Earth, one without needs, or with such low need levels as to be for most practical purposes inert, or with need so rigidly and effectively suppressed as to provide a functional surrogate for such inertness, or, perhaps, even one who might, with some convincingness, pretend to such things. To have no needs, if, indeed, there were women truly without them, would be a tragedy, and if one had any need at all, then it would be only a matter of time until under Gorean tutelage they were revealed, deepened and enlarged; until they were imperiously summoned forth into the open for inspection and encouragement; they would then be cultivated; they would be forced to grow, in both size and intensity; they would soon become such that they would begin to surface periodically and irresistibly within her, like forces of nature, she is powerless to alter or effect them as she would be to alter or effect the tides, the rotation of the earth, the risings and settings of the sun. Too, they would always be with her, ready and meaningful, never far beneath the surface. This would constitute a condition of her existence. She would come to realize hat, as the Goreans say, "slave fires had been lit in her belly." She would learn, too, that these fires, even when they seemed most inert, could be suddenly fanned into raging, consuming flames by as little as a command, a glance or touch. Such things the girl must learn to cope with. It does not matter, of course, for she is only a slave. I myself, of course, do not object to such things. I have learned on this world that the insensitivity of tissue is not an indication of virtue but of physiological inferiority.

I looked up at Mirus, tears in my eyes. I was now without pride. I was now only a naked, needful slave. I squirmed before him. I could not attempt to relieve my own tensions, as my hands, by his will, had been bound behind me. Yet for all my anguish I would not have wanted to be other than I was. I had not known such needs, such feelings, such emotions could exist. I was a thousand times more alive than I had ever been on Earth. And complementary, of course, to the pain of such deep needs, the other side of the coin, so to speak, are the incredible fulfillments of having them satisfied, fulfillments in the light of which the anguish of the needs, terrible though it was, then seems negligible. We may be totally at the mercy of masters, and as mere animals, and even to our lives, but just as it is within the power of these uncompromising brutes who own us to do as they wish with us, so, too, it is within their power, when it pleases them, to grant us transport to ineffable raptures, to fling us ecstasies of which the free woman can not begin to conceive.

"The woman of Earth begs use?" he said.

"Yes!" I said. "She begs use!"

"That is not typical for a woman of Earth, is it?" he asked.

"I do not know!" I could certainly imagine myself kneeling before a Greek or Roman master, or a harnessmaker in Damascus, his Christian slave, in the 14th Century, or a Barbary prince, a captured, harem-silked English lady who had not had time to learn something of the touch of men, in the 19th, and doing so. Indeed, I had wondered sometime if, in a former life, or lives, I might not have done so. The thought of this sort of thing, oddly enough, did not seem unfamiliar to me. To be sure, I have deep and urgent female needs, and had had them, even on Earth. To be sure, they had not been ignited on Earth as they were ignited now, and, too, at this time, of course, I did not have any idea as to how deep and urgent and progressively overwhelming, they could become later. I was still only, in effect, a new slave, and new to the rigors of my condition. I had not yet begun to learn my collar.

He looked at me.

"Surely I am not the first woman from Earth whom you have had at your feet, begging," I said.

"No," he admitted.

"What?" I asked.

"No," he repeated.

"More than one?" I asked.

"Of course," he said.

"Oh," I said. Immediately I felt a wave of jealousy for those other girls. "We learn quickly enough to beg on Gor, do we not?" I asked. "Yes," he said.

"I am here," I said. "I am at your feet. I am naked, collared and owned. I beg use. I can do nothing more." I looked up at him. I must now wait. He would do with me as he saw fit.

"Perhaps I should send you out on the floor," he said.

"Not tonight," I begged. "Use me yourself!"

"The schedules could be rearranged," he mused.

"As Master wills," I said, bitterly. I was, of course, at the mercy of his schedules.

"Perhaps I could warm you for Hendow" s customers," he speculated. "Warm me?" I laughed, bitterly. "I am already flaming!"

"If I sent you forth on the floor in your present condition," he said, "you would probably belly to the first male whose sandals you saw."

"Perhaps, Master," I said, bitterly. If he was so cruel as to deny me his touch, of course, I would, driven by my needs, have to made do elsewhere. It was Mirus, of course, who had not lit these flames in my belly. It was for him that they burned. The particular man is terribly important to the woman. He is a part of the whole that enflames her. To be sure, the slave is so needful and alive that it is not hard for her to see the beauty in any man. If I were sent forth upon the floor, however, in my condition, as it was, I do not think I would have bellied to the first man I saw. I would still have been able to look about, and select one out, one suitable incendiary to the wholeness of my need, and then prostrate myself before him. no, I was not so desperate that I would have bellied to the first man I saw. At that time, I did not even realize I could ever be so desperate as to do that. I would learn later, however, that I was wrong.

"But if you were to do that," he said, "it might not fit in as well as one might wish with the new image of the tavern, as we have now upgraded our dA©cor, slave silk for the girls, and such, and service."

"Oh?" I asked.

"We would not want them thinking the paga slaves of the tavern of Hendow were too easy," he said.

"Of course not," I said, puzzled.

"They must play hard to get," he said.

"A slave?" I asked. I could imagine being punished terribly for such a thing. We must run to a man eagerly, at his least summons. We could be «gotten» as easily as by a snapping of the fingers.

"Some fellows would like to think that the girls had at least taken a look at him before they flung themselves to their belly at his feet."

"I understand," I said.

"Of course he may simply pick out one that pleases his fancy, and summon her to his table, and command her.

"Of course, Master," I said.

"You seem puzzled," he said.

"How, really," I asked, "are we to play hard to get?"

"You must make certain he has paid for his drink first," he said.

"Ah, I see," I smiled. "Master sports with the slave." I had thought that perhaps he had been referring to something I had heard about in training, the dangerous, "pretended disinterest" sometimes commanded by masters of their girls, usually with respect to supper guests to whom he intends to lend her for the night. She must then, even if her belly is raging for the touch of the guest, attempt to pretend to disinterest in him, and even loathing, if the master wishes, though she must, of course, serve him with perfection. She then, gradually, permits herself to let her true feelings appear, thus attempting to give the impression of having been seduced by him, and then, later, after a suitable time, she is honestly piteous, kneeling beside him, licking and kissing. He then sends her to his room, that she may prepare it, and herself, for him. most masters, however, do not do this sort of thing for it is meretricious, and, at best, a joke. Too, it can be dangerous to the girl, as she is usually under the obligation, at least by the seventh Ahn, if he has not penetrated to the heart of the matter by then, which is usually the case to inform the use master of her master" s jest, which intelligence he might or might not appreciate. Many girls have been whipped for such things, which are not really their fault. They are only obeying, as they must. But then a girl must sometimes expect the whip, I suppose. She is, after all, a slave. On the other hand, few men will whip a girl for having pretended not to be attracted to him, if she is actually attracted to him, particularly if she has done so under her master" s orders. Such devices, of course, but without the authenticity and ultimate surrender, are often resorted to by "lure girls," slaves who serve as bait for captains who need crewmen, masters of work gangs, and such. Such work can be very dangerous, given the astuteness of many Gorean masters. Such a pretense, however, can be maintained with many men for at least a few minutes, and with some men for an hour or so, which is generally more than enough time for the purposes of the master, and the master" s men, unobtrusively, are usually near at hand. It is not unknown, of course, for a girl who serves at such a supper, and is genuinely disinterested, or repulsed, by a given guest, to be given to him for the night. Such things can amuse the master and the guest. Too, they tend to be good for the girl" s discipline.

I looked up at him.

"Yes" he said.

"We are to remain, then, full paga slaves," I said.

"Yes, though now, at least occasionally, silked," he said.

"I understand, Master," I said.

"The only difference," he said, "is that such silk may now be pulled away by the master, or discarded instantly, upon command, by the slave."

"Yes, Master," I smiled. We were still to be hot, and ready, paga slaves, eager to serve, and fully, the silk no more than an invitation to its removal. This was not much different, incidentally, than what was the case in even the most prestigious paga taverns. In such places free women were generally not permitted. In them, usually, the only women to be found would be collared slaves, generally belonging either to the tavern keeper or the guests, who may have brought them in, to avail themselves of the facilities of the alcoves. In such places, the mastery was practiced. Such places, regardless of their cost, their location, their appointments, the excellence of their food and drink, the beauty of their slaves, the quality of their music, existed, as did the tavern of Hendow, for the pleasures of men. That was the purpose of such places, whether they were within lofty towers, reached by graceful bridges, or near the wharves, close enough to hear the tide lapping at the pilings, whether they had a dozen musicians or only a single, dissolute czehar player, alone with his music, whether the girls were richly silked or stark naked, save for brands and collars, whether there were chains of gold and luxurious furs in the alcoves or only wire and straw mats. They were paga slaves.

"But perhaps we should make an exception in your case," he said.

"Master?" I asked.

"Perhaps it is better if we do not let them know that Doreen, the dancer, is such a hot slave."

I looked at him, frightened.

"If she seems more prideful, colder, more haughty and aloof, perhaps it will be better for the tavern, as the fellows may look forward them to commanding her in an alcove, melting her defenses, and then, she now abjectly tamed, turning her into only another squeaking, writhing paga slut."

"It will be done with me as Masters please," I said. "But am I commanded to attempt to conceal my passion?"

"No," he said. "You are not that kind of dancer. You are too beautiful, and needful. You must be as you are, vulnerable, hot and marvelous."

"Thank you, Master," I said. "Once more you sport with a slave." "Do you mind?" he asked.

"No, Master," I said. As if it mattered what a slave might mind!

He smiled.

"It is only another way in which you toy with me," I said.

"Are you still hot?" he inquired.

"Yes!" I said.

"Do you still beg?" he inquired.

"Yes, yes yes!" I said.

"Then," said he, "I think we may now send you to your kennel, in a belly chain, its lock at your navel, your hands braceleted closely behind you, to the chain." "Please, no, Master!" I wept.

But he was then crouching before me, and had swept me into his arms. My head was back, my eyes closed. His strength was overwhelming. I felt my softness lost somehow within that embrace. "Unbind me," I begged. "Let me hold you!" "No," he muttered, his voice thick with the wanting of me.

I must try to keep my hands together behind my back!

Then he put me to my back, and not gently, on the tiles in the passageway, near the beaded curtain. My body leapt to him and closed gratefully about him. I was joyful, held. I was collared. Tomorrow my back would be bruised from the tiles. I cried out, knowing the bliss of bondage.

"It is time you were taught submission," he said.

"I submit!" I said. "I submit!"

"You are unbound," he said.

Swiftly I pulled my hands free and grasped him.

"You are an incredible pleasure slave," he said.

"Master!" I wept.

"You need only this world, and the collar to bring it out," he said. "Yes," I whispered to him. "Please, please."

I was enraptured, as a female, and a slave.

"Master!" I cried, softly.

"So the female of Earth now calls men Master," he said.

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

Of course I would call me "Master!" They were my masters, and not only in the order of nature, but here, too, in the order of law.

I felt overwhelmed in his arms, and could not believe the feelings I felt. I uttered a tiny, plaintive cry, asking for a little respite, for a moment of mercy.

It was granted to me.

I looked at Mirus. I had always wanted, even on Earth, thought I had feared it, too, to be at the mercy of men so powerful, so magnificent and commanding, that in relation to them I could, in all right, justice and propriety, be only a slave. Then I had been brought to Gor, where I had found such me, and, too, had found myself in a collar, theirs.

I moaned softly. Then I said, "Oh," startled.

"Perhaps you are ready, Earth woman," he said, "for a slave orgasm." "Master?" I asked.

"You have a responsive body," he said. "Thus, even thought you have not been a slave long, it is possible you are ready for such an orgasm."

"Yes, Master," I said.

I was trying, wildly, to recollect that feeling, that hint of feeling, which I had just felt.

How could he have done that to me? How could anyone have done that to me? "Are you listening?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," I said. I tried to pry myself loose from my sensations, but it was not easy, locked as I was in his arms.

"I think you might be ready for your first slave orgasm," he said.

"I do not understand, Master," I said.

"It is time, I think, that you made a beginning in such things."

"Yes, Master," I whimpered. "Ai!" I suddenly said. "Oh!"

It had been done again to me.

I looked at him, wildly.

"No," he said. "You will not be shown mercy."

I moaned.

"It is pleasant to hold you in my arms," he said.

(pg 248) "Find me pleasing," I begged. "Please, find me pleasing!" I did not want him to stop, for anything.

"You are not without interest," he said.

I cried out, softly. I began to whimper.

"Is anything wrong?" he asked.

"No, no!" I said.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked.

"No!" I said.

"No, what?" he inquired, politely.

"No, Master, Master, Master!" I sobbed. "Forgive me, Master!"

I cried out, startled. I began to make soft, helpless noises.

As I had noted before, as early as the house of my training, women of diverse backgrounds, for example, those of Earth and Gor, make much the same noises while being ravished. These noises are to be distinguished from conventional exclamations, which do tend to be culture bound. I had discovered, too, that I made such noises.

"Oh!" I said, softly.

Suddenly I clutched him. I had again felt the sensation. Then I was afraid. "Master!" I said.

"Do not be afraid," he said. "Your body is being honed, and trained." I clutched him again, and gasped.

"Yes," he said, "you will give masters much pleasure."

Masters, I thought? Does he not know what he is doing to me! Can he be ignorant of the thinks I myself was feeling?

"You will do well," he said. "You are a deliciously servile little beast." "It is my hope that I will be pleasing to masters," I said. Did he not know what he was making me feel?

"I think you are now ready for the first of your slave orgasms," he said. "Master?" I asked.

"Inducing them in a slave is one of the pleasures of the mastery," he said. "Forgive me, Master," I said. "You are giving me great pleasure. But I do not even know what you are talking about."

"At first," he said, "you will be capable of only small ones, but do not fear, you will grow in such things."

"I do not understand," I said.

"You are very beautiful, and soft, and are in my arms," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said. I was grateful that he should speak in so kindly a fashion to me.

"And you are naked, and collared, and owned," he said.

"Yes, Master," I whispered.

"What are you?" he asked.

"I am a slave, Master," I said, puzzled.

"And do you surrender wholly to your masters, and yield totally to them?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," I whispered. I knew that I could not lie in things of this sort. Gorean masters, or many of them, were skilled in reading women. My Master, Hendow, was frightening adept at this. Too, I did not think that I could fool Mirus either in such matters. When a girl" s more secret thoughts can be read as easily as slave numbers written on her breast her only viable option is total honesty, and as complete submission was required of Gorean slave girls her only practical recourse under such stringent circumstances is either to choose death or become in true reality a full slave, in her heart, in her mind and in her behavior. In short, as deception is impossible, the girl must either choose death or the reality of true bondage.

"You will now prepare to yield," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said, suddenly, startled, then beginning to understand the orgasm in the natural matrix of male dominance, and intensified by the fixing, enhancement and intensification of this within the institution of total female slavery. When I yielded it would not only as a female to a male, but as slave to a master!

No longer then could I even hear the noises of the tavern beyond the curtain. There was now only myself and Mirus.

"Let me yield!" I begged.

"Wait!" he said.

I was collared!

"Please!" I wept.

I was naked, and in the arms of a man whose sandals I was not fit to lick. "Master!" I begged.

Must not what might remain in me of the proud Earth woman attempt to resist this?

"Master!" I cried.

"No," he said, sternly.

But what might remain in me of the Earth woman was utterly powerless!

"Please, please!" I whispered.

"No," he said.

Then what might have remained in me of the Earth woman was gone and in her place there was now only a terrified Gorean slave on the brink of she knew not what.

I was not simply going to be fondled or kissed, with attentions appropriate to the bland etiquettes of Earth. I was to be conquered!

"Please!" I wept.

"No," he said.

I would not be permitted to retain a shred of dignity or pride. My yielding would not be of the sort of yieldings approved of on Earth, those mild, meaningless ripples of sensation, indicative of acceptable congenialities, the most that many of Earth, it seems, could manage, but would be rather the result of his will and power, of his enforcements and determination, the exercise over me of his strength, making me helpless, having me as he wanted me, owning me. It would not be a compromised act. It would be a complete act, a fulfillment, for him and also for me. It would manifest his power, and my weakness, his triumph and my shattering, and overwhelming. It would be an act of his uncompromising power, imposed upon me, which I, the female could not resist.

"Let me yield!" I begged.

"Wait," he said.

I moaned. I did not want polite love. I wanted to know that I was in the hands of a man who was capable of being excited, and whom I excited, who found me truly marvelous, to whose fury of power I appeared whose fierce and voracious appetites I triggered. I wanted to be in the arms of a true man. I did not want to be possibly mistaken about whether I had been had or not. I did not want to be touched as though I might break. I did not wish to be in danger of drowsing off during the making of love. I wanted his to own and master me, and whip me if I was not pleasing.

"I am ready!" I said. "I beg to submit, and as slave!"

"Not yet," he said.

I began to weep with wanting to yield.

He was not simply going to enjoy me, or pleasure himself with me. He was asserting the mastery upon me. I was not merely to be used even used as a mere slave, as it sometimes amuses Gorean masters to do with us. I was going to yield, and fully. I was not simply having love made to me. The experience was far more meaningful and devastating than simply that. I was being dominated, and mastered. I was to yield, and I had to, as a slave, totally!

"Please!" I wept.

"No," he said.

I was to be vanquished, utterly.

"Please!" I said.

"Will it be necessary to gag you?" he asked.

"No, Master," I said.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yes, yes, Master!" I wept.

"You may then yield," he said, "a€”as a slave."

I then yielded to him, and wholly, and without compromises, as slave girl to a master.

I then looked up at him, wildly, disbelievingly.

"Master," I whispered, acknowledging that it was right that I belonged to men. I then lay in his arms, an incredulous, frightened slave girl. The experience had been a whole, the context conditioned by my abject surrender, by our relationship, that of master and slave.

Gently he kissed me.

I had not known on Earth that such men could exist. I had only dreamed of them, men to whom I could be rightfully only on abject slave. But now on Gor I was subject to such men. And now, naked and collared, I lay in the arms of one. "What was it?" I begged. "What was it you did to me?"

"Nothing," he said.

"Master!" I protested.

"It was a slave orgasm," he said.

I trembled in his arms.

"Surely such would be appropriate enough for you," he said.

"Yes, Master!" I said.

I have had a slave orgasm, I thought, wonderingly.

"It was a small one," he said, "to be sure."

"Small!" I said. "Take pity, I beg you, Master, on a poor slave. Do not mock her so."

I had never experienced anything of that power, of that nature, before. I was still shaken from it. In its grip, I had been overwhelmed, utterly helpless. "You will grow in such things," he said. "They are small in the beginning." "There can be more?" I asked.

"You are only at the beginning of what men can make you feel, Doreen, slave girl," he said.

I shuddered. I had never hitherto guessed that the power of men over me could be so great.

"Do you wish to feel such things again and more?" he asked.

"Yes," I whispered. "Yes!" How much we were at their mercy! They held over us not only the power of pain but also that of pleasure. They had now, in the person of Mirus, let me have a taste of incredible pleasure, perhaps that I might then have some inkling as to what such things could be. Now they could either grant me such pleasures, or withhold them from me, as they wished. I would obey with perfection, trying to please them!

"What is it that you would wish to have again?" he asked.

"Please do not make me say it, Master," I begged.

"What is going on here?" asked a voice.

Swiftly Mirus and I drew apart. I knelt, my head to the tiles. He stood. "You took her here, in the passageway?" asked Hendow, my master.

"Yes," said Mirus.

I could not see the face of Hendow, but I sensed that he was not pleased. Mirus seemed uneasy before him. I was frightened.

"You are training her?" asked Hendow.

"Yes," said Mirus.

"Here?" asked Hendow.

"I also enjoyed her," said Mirus, angrily.

"How is she?" asked Hendow.

I reddened.

"She is good, for a new slave," said Mirus.

The performance, the responses, and such, of slaves, may be discussed openly, as those of other animals.

"Did she yield?" asked Hendow.

"Yes," said Mirus.

"Wholly?" asked Hendow.

"Yes," said Mirus, angrily.

"Look up, slave," said Hendow.

I obeyed, instantly.

"Did you yield?" asked Hendow.

"Yes, Master," I said.

"Wholly?" asked Hendow.

"Yes, Master," I whispered.

"To him?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," I said, frightened.

"Did she attain slave orgasm?" asked Hendow.

"Yes," said Mirus.

"Slave?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," I said.

"That is your first, is it not?" asked Hendow.

"Yes, Master," I whispered.

"Perhaps you would have preferred to have brought her to this point yourself," said Mirus. "If so, I did not know. In such a case, had you made your wishes known to me, I would surely have respected them."

"What difference does it make," asked Hendow, "who induces the first slave orgasm in a slave?"

"No difference, of course," said Mirus. He shrugged.

"Did you like it, slave?" asked Hendow. I had never seen him like this. "Yes, Master," I whispered.

"Is that all?" he asked.

"I loved it," I whispered, terrified.

"What was it you loved?" asked Hendow, angrily.

I looked at him, aghast. I was bashful, and shy. I was timid. I was from Earth. I did not want to say such words.

"She is a new slave," said Mirus. "Perhapsa€”"

"Be silent!" said Hendow.

Mirus stiffened, as though he had been slapped. I was startled. How could Hendow have spoken to a free person in this fashion? Never had I seen him as he was. "With your leave," said Mirus, coldly.

"Stay," said Hendow.

"I did not know the slave was of interest to you," said Mirus.

"She is meaningless, as is any other slave," said Hendow.

"Of course," said Mirus.

Then Hendow looked at me, again. His eyes were fierce. I must answer. It was painful for me. On Earth I had even been reluctant even to describe the liberating sort of dance I loved so much by such an expression as "belly dance". I quailed before that gaze. It was the gaze of my master.

"My slave orgasm," I whispered.

"Speak up, slave," said Hendow.

"My slave orgasm," I said. I shuddered to hear such words coming from me. "And you want more of them, don" t you?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," I said, my eyes suddenly filling with tears. How helpless I was before such men.

"And desperately so?" he said.

"Yes, Master!" I wept.

"You perhaps understand now," he said, "that there is more to slavery than collars and chains."

"Yes, Master," I said.

"You are more thoroughly imbonded now than ever before," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said. It was true. I wanted such incredible sensations. I would do anything for them. To be granted them I would strive to be a perfect slave. I suddenly put my head in my hands, weeping.

"Hendow," protested Mirus.

"Have you counted the coins?" asked Hendow.

"Not yet," said Mirus, angrily.

"Perhaps you should consider doing so, when you can find the time," said Hendow. "Of course," said Mirus, angrily. "Do you want the slave send out on the floor, or to your quarters?"

"It was my understanding that in the schedules she was not to go on the floor this evening."

"Yes," said Mirus. "I shall have her cleaned and sent to your quarters." "No," said Hendow. "She is to be put in her kennel, belly chained and braceleted, hands behind her back."

"I will see to it," said Mirus.

"Tupita will see to it," said Hendow.

"Of course," said Mirus.

Hendow then turned about, and left. I put my head quickly to the tiles, as he left, and then raised it. I looked, then, at Mirus.

"I do not understand," said Mirus, looking after Hendow. "I do not understand." "Master?" I asked.

"Hendow is my friend," said Mirus. "We would die for one another." "Master," I said, lifting my hand to Mirus.

"No," he said, angrily. He stepped back. I gasped. His attitude was now so different than it had been. he looked at me. "But you are beautiful, aren" t you, Doreen?" he said.

"I do not know, Master," I whispered.

"It is true enough," he said, bitterly. "Perhaps you are even too beautiful." I put my head down.

"But you are only a slave," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said.

He then turned away from me, and went through the curtain. "Tupita!" I heard him call. "Tupita!"

But it was not Tupita, at first, who came into the passageway. It was Sita, in her silk. She knelt down beside me. "What is wrong?" she whispered to me.

"I do not know," I said.

"Is there trouble with Mirus?" she asked.

"Hendow is angry, I think," I said.

"It has to do with you," she said.

"I think so," I said.

"You may have favor with Hendow," she whispered.

"I do not think so," I said.

"There are rumors about," whispered Sita. "Have you hear them, that there may be a new first girl?"

"I have heard something about it," I said. "I do not know if it is true." "Speak well for Sita," she whispered.

"But you are the friend of Tupita," I said.

"Tupita has no friends," she said.

I looked at Sita, puzzled.

"Speak well for Sita, with the masters," she said. "If I am first girl, you will be second.""It is thought that Tupita is losing her control of the girls," I said. There were twenty-seven of us.

"She is," said Sita. "I have seen to it. Who do you think has undermined her?" "To how many of us have you offered the post of second girl?" I asked. "Only to you," she said.

I smiled.

"It is true," she whispered. "With the others I needed only rely on Tupita" s unpopularity, her arbitrariness, her favoritisms, and, naturally, the promise of an easier time under me."

"Why am I so special?" I asked.

"Because of Hendow," she whispered.

"I do not understand," I said.

"He likes you," she whispered. "I am sure of it."

"No," I said. "I am only a meaningless slave to him."

"Men kill for slaves," said Sita.

I shuddered.

"Speak well for Sita," she whispered.

The beaded curtain parted and Tupita entered the passageway.

Sita sprang to her feet. "You are a stupid slave," she cried to me. "You must learn to better please men!"

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"What is wrong with Mirus?" asked Tupita. "I have never seem him so angry." "It has to do with Hendow," said Sita. "He is angry with Mirus." "It has to do with this slave?" asked Tupita.

"Yes," said Sita. "I have made her confess. Look at her. You can see she has been recently used."

"Here?" said Tupita.

"Apparently," said Sita.

"Return to the floor," she said.

"Tupita!" protested Sita.

"There is a fellow at table fifteen. He is depressed. He is having problems with his companion at home. Belly to him. Console him."

"Yes, Mistress," said Sita, and went back to the floor.

"So there is trouble between Mirus and Hendow?" she asked.

"Perhaps, Mistress," I said. "I do not know."

"And it is over you?"

"Perhaps, Mistress," I said. "I do not know."

"I wonder how that could be," she said. Then she walked about me, looking at me. "Yes," she said. "I suppose it is possible." She stopped in front of me. "Do you know what is to be done with you?"

"I am to be kenneled, belly chained and back-braceleted," I said.

"So you were used here?" she said, looking about.

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"That is my impetuous Mirus," she said.

I was silent.

"Did you yield well to him?" she asked.

"Yes, Mistress," I whispered.

"He teaches us our slavery well, doesn" t he?" she asked.

"Yes, Mistress," I whispered. "Please do not whip me, Mistress." "Why would I do that?" she asked, lightly.

"I thought you might be angry," I said, "about Mirus."

"We are all free to the men of the house," she said. "And you are pretty." "You are not angry with me?" I asked.

"Of course not," she said. "What were you to do? You are only a slave." "Thank you, Mistress," I said.

"Follow me to the kennels," she said. "I will chain and bracelet you there. Too, I will not make the belly chain any tighter than necessary."

"Thank you, Mistress," I said.

"And I will bring you a pastry later from the kitchen," she said, "and put it on the floor of your kennel. Though you will not be able to use your hands I expect that you will enjoy it, just the same.

"Thank you, Mistress," I said.

"Speak well of me to Hendow," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"If I am kept on as first girl," she said, "I will make you third girl, second only to myself and Sita."

"Thank you, Mistress," I said.

I then rose to my feet and followed here down the passageway, to the stairs leading to the basement, where most of the kennels were. She was as good as her word, and did not make the belly chain tighter then necessary, and, too, she brought me a pastry later from the kitchen."

"Speak well of me to Hendow," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

I then, lying on my side, and turning my head, ate the pastry. Afterwards, as I could, with my teeth, I pulled the blanket up about me. I then lay there in the darkness, in the kennel. I pulled a little at the slave bracelets. They were not too tight, but they were on me snugly and well. They would hold me, perfectly. I remembered what a man had done to me, and how much of a slave he had made me. Hendow had told me later that I was never so thoroughly imbonded as now. I remembered the sensations. It was true. I did not know whether to weep with the power of men over me, or cry out with joy. I did not know. I was a slave, and, in spite of its vulnerabilities and terrors, loved it. I would try to serve well.

I was frightened by the intrigues of the slaves, Tupita and Sita, and the other girls. I did not really want to be involved in them.

I lay there then and loved the men of Gor. I had not really, in spite of strong feelings and intuitions on Earth, begun to understand my sex until I was imbonded, until I found myself in my place in nature, subservient to men. I now loved my sex. I now loved being a woman. It was marvelous, and wonderful!