Dancer of Gor

27 The Pen; Outside the Pen

I lay in the center of the pen.

I was trembling, but here I think I was safe.

I had feared they might not have a pen here, but only a chain, perhaps stretched between trees, that we might be attached to, by the ankle or neck. Such a thing, though it might have its guard, might be more easily approached. The pen was some forty feet square, and some seven feet in height. It had an open roofing of bars, supported by hollow metal posts, and bars, too, covered now with sand, floored it. It could be assembled, fastened together with plates, bolts and chains, and similarly disassembled, and transported in wagons. Mercenaries, following the demands of their business, the exigencies of their trade, frequently move their camps. Though the wagons could doubtless be drawn by tharlarion, if speed were necessary, the harnesses I had seen on the covered harness racks, near the wagons, were not made for tharlarion. They were made for women. Girls, thus, and perhaps some stripped free women among them, would draw the wagons. Doubtless drovers would be with them on the road, with their whips, should they be tempted to lag in their zeal. There were only some twenty or so women penned with me now. Many, perhaps a hundred or more, were doubtless spending the night in the tents of soldiers, signed out to them for the night. There was one gate to our pen. It was secured with two locks, padlocks, and chains. It was guarded by two men.

I rolled over, in the soft sand, lying within the dark blanket.

How pleased I was that there was such a pen.

Here I was safe, I was sure.

I had no doubt of the menace and intent of he who had followed us back to the camp of Pietro Vacchi. He had been making his way, meaningfully, the blade in its sheath, toward Venna, and the black chain. It had been his intent, sooner or later, in one way or another, to renew his acquaintance with a certain slave, one who had once betrayed him. then he had recognized her on the road. He had then immediately changed his route. Did they really think he had not known his way to Brundisium, a native of Brundisium, and such a man? Did they really think he had returned to the camp only to make a fresh start in the morning? No, he had been following us for a purpose, and it had to do with a slave, one he was determined to bring within the reach of his hand, and blade. Had I had any doubt he had recognized me on the road, and that that had been responsible for his change of direction, that doubt had been dispelled in the camp. When I had knelt before a post, my hands behind me, chained back about the post, a helmet beside me, set in the sand, like a vessel, into which ostraka would be placed, men had come to look upon me. They had come to see if they thought it worth their while, in the spending of their evening, to wait about for a time, to see me dance, and then, perhaps, if they were pleased, to drop an ostrakan into the helmet. Among them came he whom I most feared. I strained forward, trying to kiss at his legs, but the chain on my wrists, pulling against the back of the post, held me back. I then realized that he had selected the place where he had stood with care. He had judged the distance with cruel exactness. It was such that I would try to reach him, desperately, to kiss him, to placate him. It was also such that I would be unable to do so. I had looked up into his eyes, and then, in terror, had put down my head. He had then left me, and another man had come to look upon me. I had danced that night between campfires, for the mercenaries. He had not chosen to watch. It seems, once again, that he would take suitable precautions, not be softened, that the iron of his intent be neither diminished nor imperiled, that there be no possible weakening of his terrible resolve.

I turned to my back, within the blanket. It was a very dark night. I could scarcely see the bars, it was so dark.

I think the mercenaries had found me pleasing. Surely they had responded well to the dance, and the helmet had been filled with ostraka. It had not started well, for I had been hampered by terror, but soon, as I recalled my earlier beating by Aulus, and knew I might be again whipped if I did not do well, and as I reassured myself that within the camp I would presumably be safe, and as I saw the men, and I knew they wished pleasure, and that it was within my power to give it to them, and abundantly, and must do so, to the best of my power. I began to lose my terror and then, at last, I think. I danced well. "Superb!" I heard cry. Far then I was from the shy, introverted girl of the library, she who had scarcely dared to admit, even to herself, even in the concealments of her most secret heart, that in her belly lurked the dispositions and nature of a pleasure slave! But now, openly, and whether she willed it or not, she was that very slave. "Superb!" cried another man. I danced, barefoot in the sand, naked, in my collar, my body illuminated redly in the light of the fires. I was joyful, a woman! How powerful, and grand, were the men! How I wanted to please them, and knew that I must. They did not fear, or object to, masculine power. They delighted in it, reveled in it. It ennobled and exalted them. It made them great! It made them glorious! And had they not been such men, how could I have been such a woman?

It was very dark out.

Afterwards when the five ostraka had been drawn something of my fears had returned. I had even begged two of the fellows not to take me far from the fires, but, dragged by the hair, bent over, I had followed them. Then I had served them in the darkness, between tents. Once, my hands over my head, I had felt the tent ropes. Once, when I had bent over one fellow, I had lifted my head, in terror, thinking I might have heard a sound, but, it seems, I had not. I had then again addressed myself to my labors. After I had served five men I had been conducted to the tent of Pietro Vacchi. He, among the others, had watched me dance. Indeed, I had danced my beauty particularly to him, more than once, as he was the captain of these men, and his ruggedness and strength, his entire demeanor, that of a master, stirred my belly. I could not flee from him. But in a moment I would not have wanted to. He was a true master, and, in moments, licking and kissing, squirming, moaning, crying out with gratitude, I was helpless in his grasp. When he had left me I had lain on the rug, looking after him in disbelief. What a slave such men made us! I had lain on my back, the chain on my neck, my fingernails scratching at the rug. When I had seen him standing near me again I had gone to my belly and pressed my lips fervently to his feet. "Master!" I had wept. He then took me by the upper arms and, with a sound of chain, lifted me, and flung me back, again to the rug. "Oh yes, Master!" I had cried out, again, in gratitude.

One of the girls near me stirred in her sleep. "Let me serve you, let me serve you," she was moaning, in her dreams.

I, however, for one, was now pleased to be behind the bars of the pen. Something of my original terror had returned when Pietro Vacchi had led me to the exit of his tent and pointed the way, through the darkness, to the pen. I had bellied, and begged, for a guard. "Do you wish another whipping?" he had inquired. "No, Master!" I said. He had, it seems, taken note of my beating on the Vitkel Aria. Too, I was sure the marks on me attested to it. I rose to my feet, to creep, frightened, in the direction he had indicated. "Wait," he said, as an afterthought. "Wait." I was only too willing to dally. "You have heard of the other girl?" he asked. "Master?" I asked. "Guard," he called, "escort this young lady to her quarters." "Yes, Captain," he said. Pietro Vacchi then returned to his tent. The guard was behind me. "Lesha!" he said. Immediately, responsive to this command, I flung my wrists behind me, separated by some two inches, and lifted my chin, my head turned to the left. I felt slave bracelets flung, snapping shut, on my wrists. I was braceleted. In another moment I was leashed. "Precede me," said the guard. I went before him. In a moment we were among the trees, on a path. "Oh!" I said, softly. The guard had begun to caress me. In another moment or two he stopped me with the leash, in the darkness. "May I speak, Master?" I asked. "No," he said. He was through with me quickly. Then I was dragged to my feet and conducted, again, toward the pens. I though I saw a movement in the darkness, but I was not certain. "What is it?" asked the guard, uneasily. "Nothing, Master," I said. If I had truly detected something, as perhaps I had between the tents, the tiny sound, or now, perhaps, a movement in the darkness, subtle, almost unnoticeable, I had little doubt as to what might be its source. But he had not, in either case, struck in the darkness. He had had no interest, it seemed, in killing the soldier, or the guard. It was not him he wanted. He would continue, it seemed, to bide his time. in a few moments, however, happily, I was released into the pen. "Blankets are at the side," he said. "You may take only one." Yes, Master," I said. "May I speak?" "No," he said.

I sat up in the blanket. I thought something had been standing on the other side of the bars, toward the back of the pen, away from the guards. I strained my eyes, peering into the darkness. I could see nothing. If something had been there it was now apparently gone. I was frightened. I looked about myself. I pulled the blanket up, tightly, around my chin. I was being stalked. I was sure of it! The I realized with misgivings, a sinking feeling, that it was unlikely I would have heard the tiny sound, seen the movement, been aware of a presence beyond the bars, so subtle a presence, in the darkness, unless it had been intended that I, if only subliminally, take note of them. It was perhaps his intention to remind me, from time to time, particularly if I should grow hopeful, that I had not been forgotten. But perhaps in was all my imagination! Perhaps he had changed his mind. Perhaps he had taken his way, by now, to Brundisium! Then I was again frightened. Could an arrow, or the quarrel of a crossbow, not be sped between the bars, into my heart, even here in the pen? I lay back, frightened, holding the blanket about me. Such a missile, of course, might be as easily launched from the brush at the side of a road, as I might be walking beside a tharlarion, my neck in a chain, running to a master" s stirrup. But I wondered if such things would suffice for his vengeance. Perhaps they would be too distant, too abstract, for him. I dug down a little more into the sand, until I could feel the bars of the cage floor.

I thought of Petro Vacchi. How well he handled a woman! How well he had mastered me! I remembered that on the road a "gentlewoman," one from Ar, had been mentioned. She, as I understood it, was to have been given to Aulus for the evening, that he might help her learn what it was to be a female. Aulus, as I well knew, from when I had worn the rectangle of silk in his tent, was a strong master. I had little doubt but what the "gentlewoman," lying at his feet in the morning, wide-eyed and sleepless, would recollect in chagrin and horror her responses of the preceding night. Could she believe what she had done, and said? How she had begged and squirmed, and acted not at all like a free woman, but like a slave? How she had behaved in his arms? How could she, a free woman, have acted like that? But perhaps she had not truly, ultimately, a free woman, as she had hitherto supposed but really, truly, like so many women, those she had pretended not to really understand, and had held in such contempt, until now, only a slave? Could that be? And could they teach her things, if she begged hard enough, that she might be more pleasing to such men, that they might find her of interest and deign again to notice her? Regardless of such considerations how could she now, after what had been done to her, and how she had acted, go back to being a free woman? Could she pretend nothing had happened? How could she hold her head up, again, now, among free women? Would she not now cringe before them, and be unable to meet their eyes, like a runaway slave, thence to be seized by them and remanded to a praetor? Now that she had known the touch of a man, such a man, how could she return, as though nothing had happened, to her former self, with its haughty, barren pretenses of freedom? What authority or right had she any longer, given what she had learned about herself last night, to claim that she was "free," except perhaps in virtue of the accident of an undeserved legal technicality? How could she ever again, given what she now knew about herself, consider herself free? No longer had she a right to such a claim. She now knew, in her heart, that she was not truly free, but, truly free, but, truly, a slave. That was what she was, and right that she be. No longer could she find it in her heart to pretend to be free, to play again the role of a free woman, to enact once again what, in her case, could now be only a hollow mockery, an empty farce of freedom. Too, could she any longer even dare to do so? Suppose others came to suspect, or even to know! What if they could read it somehow in her eyes, or body? It is a great crime for a slave to pretend to be a free woman. Would they not simply take off her clothes and punish her, and then hand her over to a praetor, for her proper disposition? Too, what could such a pretense gain her but the closing of doors on the truth of her being? But even if these things were not true, she feared they were, she did not wish to perish of shame. No longer now, knowing what she now knew about herself, could she live as a free woman. She must beg Aulus, when he awakened, for she did not dare awaken him for fear she might be whipped, for the brand and collar. No longer could she be a free woman. It was now right that she be kept as a slave, and made a slave.

As the night was cloudy, and dark, I could not see the stars, or moons. I felt the collar on my throat. Ti was the collar of Ionicus, I was a work slave. Yet, tonight, I had not served as a work slave, but a pleasure slave. Too, Aulus had chained me at his stirrup. He had used me as a display slave, to enhance his appearance, to add to the effect he might make when he came into the presence of Pietro Vacchi. It is a use for slaves. I was proud that I had been put at his stirrup. In such small ways a slave may gather that she is exciting and beautiful. To be sure, he may not have wanted to leave me behind with the guards. Also, he may have had in mind that I might dance for the mercenaries and serve some of them, and their captain. Thus I might, in my humble way, like a gift, or a token of good will, make my small contribution to the success of his visit. Perhaps a tribute, or, more carefully put, a friendship fee, might even be arranged, such that the chains of Ionicus might, at least for a given time, enjoy immunity from the depredations of the mercenaries. If I had been used for such a purpose I hoped that I had done well, and that Aulus would be satisfied. I recalled Vacchi. I hoped that I had pleased him. I smiled to myself. That I had pleased him? Rather it seemed he had used me, imperiously, as a master, for his pleasure! In his arms, I, helpless, moaning, crying out, sometimes even begging for mercy, had been forced to endure lengthy slave ecstasies. I squirmed in the sand, digging into it until I again felt the bars of iron, of the pen floor, beneath me, remembering what it had been to be in his arms. Tomorrow I would presumably return to the black chain of Ionicus, though perhaps to be kept in Aulus" s tent in a rectangle of silk. Surely that was preferable to wearing chains and carrying water, struggling against its bulging, shifting weight, bend over, going back and forth, back and forth, wading in sand to the ankles.

I recalled, oddly, when I had knelt before Tyrrhenius, weeks before, when I had learned that he was going to sell me, he had spoken of "inquiries." I had not much thought of it at the time, but now, in the darkness, lying in the sand of the pen, I wondered what he had meant. What sort of inquiries had he in mind, and to whom did they pertain? Did they pertain to him? Did they pertain to me? Or perhaps he feared that they might pertain to me? Was that why he had sold me, rather abruptly, as it seemed, now that I thought about it? And who was making such inquiries? I thought that perhaps it might have been a praetor" s agent, or agents, or perhaps fellows suspected of being such agents, that might have been making such inquiries in Argentum. I did not know. News of their questioning could have been brought to Tyrrhenius by his spies, or men. Whatever might be the case, it seemed that he had regarded it judicious to terminate my services as a lure girl. I had then been sold to the black chain of Ionicus.

I dismissed such thoughts from my mind.

I lay in the darkness. I wanted to return to the work camp. There, I thought, there, behind the wire, in the midst of guards, I should be safe, or at least as safe as any of the other girls. Certainly he whose vengeance quarry I might be would not wish to simply enter the camp. He might be seized and returned to the chain. Yes, I thought, I want to get back to the work camp. If I can get back to the work camp, I should be safe, at least as safe as the other girls. That is important, I thought, to get back to the camp.

"You have heard of the other girl?" had asked Pietro Vacchi of me, after I had risen to my feet, after I had bellied to him, in the entrance of his tent, begging a guard, fearing to go out into the darkness, to find my own way to the pen, there to report myself in to the guards, to be incarcerated within it. "Master?" I had asked, puzzled. He had then, in a moment, put me in the custody of a guard. I was somewhat puzzled by this. For a moment I had feared Vacchi was going to put me under the whip, for my importunities. Certainly I did not want to be whipped twice in one day. Then he had asked me that question. Then, after a moment, it seemed he had, for some reason, relented, or changed his mind. The guard had then braceleted and leashed me, and I had proceeded him toward the pen. I had expected to be taken directly to the pen but the guard, once we were in the darkness, had pulled me up shortly by the leash, and then, I perforce keeping silent, had put me to his purposes. It was shortly after that, when we were again on our way to the pen, that I had thought I might have detected a movement among the trees. This fear, or start, had doubtless been reflected in my entire body, perhaps even in the movement of the leash. "What is it?" had asked the guard, uneasily. "Nothing, Master," I had said. It had not been difficult to detect the uneasiness, or even alarm, in the guard" s voice. I did not understand his apprehension. We were in the midst of the mercenaries camp. If there had been something there, presumably it would be only another of his fellows, perhaps relieving himself in the darkness, not wanting to seek out the latrines. If anyone had something to fear it was presumably I, and not he. Yet Vacchi had put a guard with me. It had something to do, perhaps, with the "other girl." Something, it seems, may have recently happened to another girl. I had tried, twice, to inquire about this, but, each time, had not been given permission to speak. I must then be silent. Whether or not we may speak is not at our will, but at the will of our masters. I shivered. Still, I was safe now, lying close to the ground, in the darkness, among the other girls, locked in the pen.

I thought about the morrow. Presumably I would be again at the stirrup of Aulus. I was pleased that there was not too much brush along the side of the road. I feel asleep.

I stirred, uneasily. My nose wrinkled a little. There was some sort of strong smell. I did not care for it. I did not know what it was. It seemed very close, terribly close. I opened my eyes, suddenly. I could not see anything in the darkness. Perhaps I had been asleep for only a few moments. Perhaps I had slept for an hour. I did not know. Then it seemed that I was paralyzed with fear. I had vaguely discerned, or thought I had, a deeper darkness in the darkness. Then I felt something on each side of me, like barriers, a wall, but parts of something alive. I wanted to scream, but was so terrified I could not make the least sound. I was on my back, trapped in the blanket. Its body was above my lower body, close. Its legs, or hind legs, were on either side of me. I was held in place. It seemed enormous. It leaned forward. I almost choked, from the fetid breath. A drop of liquid fell to my face, salivation from its jaws. It seemed excited. Doubtless I was meat. I felt the heat and volume of its breath on my face. Its lungs must be huge. Its oral orifice might well be as large as my head. I could not understand why it did not move. I now realized it was waiting for me to try to scream. This thing over me was not human, but, too, it was no sleen, or larl. It was a beast, and a terrible one, that much I could tell even in the terror of the darkness, but, too, I sensed, from its control, and patience, and the way it had rendered me helpless, it was in some indefinable way, some terrifying way, other than a beast, too, or more than a beast. It was a beast which, like men, I feared, could consider alternatives, envisage possible futures, choose courses of action. It could think, and plan. I lay there. It did not begin to lacerate me. It did not tear at my flesh. It did not begin to feed. It was waiting, waiting patiently. It was waiting for me to try to scream. At the time, of course, I did not know that. I moved a little. There was an almost inaudible growl. Immediately I was again perfectly still. I did not understand why it had not killed me. It was, somehow, however, within the pen. Had it been admitted? Perhaps it was uneasy in such a situation? Perhaps it wanted to carry me to its den, there to feed on me. But why then, would it not have killed me first, and then dragged me away, like a leopard? I did not think this thing would want me as a slave. I was not of its species. Its lusts, and I did not doubt but what such a vital, powerful creature had them, would presumably be triggered by configurations and natures quite other than mine. Indeed, I shuddered to consider what might be the rituals and habits, the courtships and matings, of such a thing. Too, it was not behaving toward me, as might have a master, say, fondling me with possessive audacity or throwing my legs apart, to see how I might look with them spread, or to let me know what my relationship was to be to him. For what, then, could it want me? Doubtless food. But then why had it not killed me? Perhaps it wanted to get me somehow to its den and there make its kill, that the meat might be fresh? Or, perhaps, as it might be a rational beast, with an eye to the future, until it was hungry? It then, slowly, one by one, put the digits of its left hand, or paw, on my cheek. I suddenly shuddered. There had been five, and then, when I had thought them done, terrifying me, there had been another! The thing had six digits! It was then alien, as far as I knew, not only to Earth but Gor. It was from somewhere else! I was suddenly wild with terror, not the numbing paralyzing terror, which I now understand the thing was waiting to pass, but a different sort of terror, now a wild, helpless terror. I put back my head, wildly. I opened my mouth, widely. I took a breath to scream. But no sooner had I opened my mouth, widely, widely, and took in breath to scream, than the creature, with his right hand, or pay, from beside him, took what must have been a small bag, filled with rags, and thrust it expertly, deeply into my oral orifice. He then, as I looked up inthe darkness, in disbelief, in consternation, tied it back in my mouth with cord, pulled back deeply between my teeth wrapped twice about my head, fastened under my left ear. He was apparently right-handed, or right-pawed. He then drew back the blanket from about me, and turned me to my stomach. He then drew my wrists behind my back and tied them. In another moment he had similarly fastened my ankles together. He had bound me, hand and foot. I lay there bewildered, terrified. He had handled me with the dexterity of a human slaver, surprising a woman in her bed. Not only had he seemed apprised of the human female" s reflexive scream reaction, her tendency to cry out with fear, but he had taken advantage of it, exploiting it expertly, using it for the convenient opportunity it afforded for her effective gagging. I could now, the rags in my mouth, utter only tiny, helpless sounds. These were perhaps not greatly different from the small cries a woman might utter in her sleep. How expertly he had taken advantage of my female reflexes! He had also, in his way, tricked me. He had provoked my scream reflex by silently informing me, unexpectedly, and to my terror, of the alien nature of his hand, or paw. He had then gagged me, and, then, without further ado, put back the blanket, turned me to my belly and bound me, helplessly.

I lay on my stomach, on the blanket, it in the soft sand, bound and gagged. I had been quickly and efficiently rendered helpless. I suspected then that this may not have been done entirely by feel. I had the distinct feeling that the thing, even in this darkness, might be able to see. Even to me the darkness was not absolute. I could tell something of its outline in the night. There must therefore, somehow, be some light, perhaps a tiny bit of light from the moons, or even the stars, filtered through the cover of the clouds. Whereas this might be so small that it was scarcely detectable by a human, it might be more than adequate for a different, more efficient nocturnal adaptations. Humans even illuminated the streets of their cities, at least in certain areas. In venturing out into the night they were not unaccustomed to carrying lanterns with them, or touches, and that for so simple a purpose as merely to see their way. This thing near me I suspected had no need of such artifices. I heard, and felt it, its snout at my back, touching me once or twice, with its tiny intakes of air, sniffling me. Then, as I stiffened in terror, I felt digits of its hand, or paw, on my back. It was feeling some of the welts on my back. These were from my beating by Aulus, on the Vitkel Aria. I had deserved that beating. I had not been pleasing to a master. Then it put its head down, close to me. I then felt its tongue, curiously, exploratory, a rough tongue, like a cat" s, lick slowly at one or two of the welts. I heard a small noise from its throat. I feared it might be becoming excited. Then it straightened up. I was relieved. I was pleased that there was no blood on my back. It then turned about, its huge form crouched down. It was still for a moment, very still, perhaps looking about, perhaps reconnoitering. It then took one of my bound ankles in its paw. It them dragged me by the ankle from the blanket, between the other girls, on my side, through the sand, toward the bars. In so small a thing as this I sensed its alieness. No human, I think, would have drawn me along like this. It was more like some shambling predator pulling a four-footed animal behind it, by a leg. In a moment it was at the bars, on the far side, away from the gate. Then to my amazement it drew me between the bars which, literally, it seemed, had been bent apart. Apparently it had not been admitted. It had admitted itself. It had apparently taken the bars in its paws, those bars which might well have confined men, let alone women, and bent them apart. Outside the bars, on the dirt, it lifted me in its arms and, half crouching, carried me into some trees. There in the darkness, alone with it, I began to whimper and struggle. I did not want to be taken from the camp, not now, not this way! It then put me down, on the dirt. I struggled at its feet, bound. I feared it would now, in this isolated place, eat me. But it lifted me up, by the back of the neck, to a kneeling position. Did I know what it was doing? I was not kneeling before it, a position appropriate for a slave! It then lifted me up again, a foot or so, such that I seemed really to be neither kneeling or standing. I was held by the back of the neck again, its grip, that of only one hand or paw, easily supporting my weight. I felt the dirt on the tops of my toes, as my feet now were, their soles exposed. i having been lifted up from a kneeling position. My knees were bent. It then, with its right paw, struck me. My head was flung to the side. I lost consciousness.