Dancer of Gor

33 Dust

I knelt down, across from the fire from him, in our small camp in the woods, not far from the meadow. It was dark now. There was a space of some fifty feet of cleared ground behind him. Closer to me there were some trees and brush. I was naked. He had not given me clothing, even the belt of rolled cloth and the slave strip, which he had earlier removed, when I had been bound, after the departure of Mirus and Tupita, they with the tharlarion and wagon.

"Is the camp in order? Is your work finished?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," I said. I had tried to do my best to cook well for him. I hoped he had not been dissatisfied. He had eaten in silence, but well. I hoped I had not done too badly. I had not been whipped. The whip is a very tangible symbol of the relationship between the master and the slave, and if the master is not satisfied, it can quickly become, as the slave knows well, more than a symbol. After he had begun to eat he had given me a piece of bread, thrusting it in my mouth as I was, by his command, on all fours near him. After that he had, from time to time, thrown me scraps, tossing them to the crushed leaves. These I must eat without the use of my hands.

As a female I looked across at him, such a master. To no weaker man would I have cared to belong. He would command; I would obey. I was his.

"Perhaps Master will not bind his slave," I said.

He regarded me.

I could not deny that I loved bonds, both of a physical and social sort, those tangible evidences of my womanhood, and my place in nature. He might bind me, I supposed, merely to secure me for the night. On the other hand, I hoped that he might now bind me not for the night but rather for the evening, either in such a way as merely to make clear to me that I was a slave, little more than a symbolic binding, or even in such a way that I should be utterly helpless to resist his attentions, whatever they might be.

"You are a woman made for bonds," he said.

But he made no move to secure a neck chain, or physical bonds of any sort, not did he order me to fetch such, hurrying to him, say, with chains, responsive to his command, that would be placed on my own body.

"And love, Master," I said, boldly. "And love!"

He frowned.

"Forgive me, Master," I said.

To be sure, I already wore the most marvelous and joyous bonds of all, those of my womanhood, identical with myself, those of my slavery, natural and legal, and those of my love.

When I saw his eyes upon me I moved my knees a tiny bit further apart. I was a subtle thing. He was not surprised, really, to notice it, or much notice it, at least on a conscious level.

"You are a sly slave," he said.

"Forgive me, Master," I said. I considerably narrowed the gap between my knees. "No," he said. "Open your knees even more widely than they were before." "Yes, Master," I said. Now, of course, I was merely a slave, obeying the orders of her master. How far away then seemed Earth, and the library.

"May I speak, Master?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

"Fulvius," I said, "who was one of the brigands, did not care, it seems, to leave an enemy behind him."

My master nodded.

"I do not care to do so either," he said.

"But you released Sempronius and Callisthenes," I said. "You even showed them hospitality. You even put Tela and myself to their pleasure."

"They are not enemies," he said.

"I see," I said.

"One must beware of enemies," he said, "and the nobler they are, the more dangerous they are."

"I am surprised that you have kept this camp as long as you have," I said. "I gather this was in deference to Mirus, who was recovering his strength."

"Perhaps," he said.

"But you did not leave with him this afternoon," I said.

"No," he said.

"Perhaps you intend to leave the camp in the morning?" I asked.

"Perhaps," he said.

I looked at my master. He had never used me. On Earth, and in the first house of my bondage, my virginity, it seemed, had protected me. Such was supposed to improve my price on the slave block, at least for certain buyers. Certainly it must have appealed to Hendow, for he had made good money on me, in the selling of chances, raffling it off. Then I had been lost to him for a long time. Then, in the meadow, he had found me. I had come again into his power. He had put sword claim upon me. I was his, his slave! But he had still not used me. He had put me to the pleasure of Sempronius. Later, by another simple exercise of the rights of his mastery, I must serve Mirus. Yet he had sought me for months. Surely that had not been done merely to put me to the purposes of others. I looked at him. Surely he must desire me. He had said as much. I shuddered. I was afraid, a little but terribly excited, to be the object of his desire, Gorean desire. It was so powerful, so ruthless, so absolutely uncompromising. Yet, too, I though, he must care for me. Surely he must! Indeed, he must care very much for me! Perhaps he even loves me, I thought, absurd though that might seem. Was that really so impossible? He must love me, I thought. He must!

"What is wrong with you?" he asked.

"Nothing, Master," I said.

I looked at him. I was sure he loved me!

"Are you sure there is nothing wrong?" he asked.

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

"Yes," he said.

"You own me," I said. "I am your slave."

"Yes?" he said.

"But I am curious to know what my status is, Master," I said. I would try, slyly, to determine his feelings for me.

"Your status?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. "What sort of slave am I?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Am I a high slave?" I asked.

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

?No, Master!" I said.

"Turn about," he said. "Kneel down. Put your head to the ground, clasp your hands together, behind the back of your neck."

"Yes, Master!" I wept. I hastened to obey. This is a common position for slave rape.

"Oh! I cried. Then I shuddered and gasped, and cried out. Then I gasped, again and again. Then he spurned me to the dirt, by the fire, with his foot. I turned about, from my belly, shuddering, to look at him.

"That is your status, the sort of slave you are," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said.

"Speak your status, the sort of slave you are," he said.

"I am a low slave!" I said.

"And you are the lowest of the lowest!" he said.

"Yes, Master!" I said. There were tears in my eyes. Obviously I was a full slave to this man. No intention in the least had he of weakening or compromising my bondage. He had not picked me out on Earth to be a half slave. My feelings were very mixed. I was wildly grateful to have been taken, but yet he had given me little time or pleasure. His attentions, and his domination and disciplinary taking, but still I had wept and reveled in it. It was the first such touch, even so arrogant and contemptuous, which my master had granted me. Too, I knew that even though I might be a low slave, as I had little doubt that I was now, and even among the lowest of the low slaves, I was not disheartened, or indeed, even disappointed. First, I knew that women who are kept as low slaves, and even strictly so, are often among the most loved. Many love masters keep their love slaves, for example, as low slaves. I had little doubt that Mirus would keep Tupita as such. She was even braceleted when she left the camp. I knew, too, that even high slaves are occasionally subjected to such imperious uses, which in their way are delicious, just at they might, to their shame, frustration and pleasure, find themselves, occasionally clad in rags and put to disagreeable tasks. Such things remind them that they are slaves, and must obey their masters. Such enforcements, too, tend to be reassuring, and arousing, to a woman. Even if I were not loved, I now had no doubt that I was keenly desired, and that I need not fear that I might not be put to my master" s pleasure and as a slave. The ruthlessness of his use only doubled my desire, that of a slave, to serve and love him. it was clear he had known what he was doing when he had picked me out on Earth.

"You may resume your position," he said.

"Thank you, Master," I said, returning to my place, kneeling across the fire from him. I was still shaken and heated from my rape. To some extent I was ashamed and chagrined, for had I not once been a free woman of Earth, but mostly I was very pleased, and grateful, and loving. Too, I was in awe of him. he had wanted me, he had taken me. He would do what he wanted with me. I would be treated as he pleased. There would be no compromising with me. I was his slave. "May I speak?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

"How did you know that you might trust Callisthenes and Sempronius?" I asked. "I think I have some skill in reading men," he said.

"Can you read women, as well?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

"And what do you read in me?" I asked.

"Straighten your body, and spread your knees more widely," he said. I complied.

"I read that you are an exquisite female slave," he said, "who needs only a strong master to achieve the total perfections of her femininity.

"It is true, Master," I said, reddening, putting down my head. I was sorry I had asked. I was so embarrassed! It was as though he could read my innermost thoughts and needs. Was I truly so open to him? It seemed that my thoughts and needs were as naked to him as now, by his will, was my body.

He then fetched a bit of oil and a sharpening stone from his things and, returning to his place, removed his sword from its scabbard. He then, slowly, patiently, with great care, addressed himself to the blade. Gorean men usually sharpen their own swords. They tend to trust the edge on the weapon to no one but themselves. I regarded the blade with uneasiness, but fascination. I had seen such things at work.

"Be certain that we speak in English," he said, not looking up.

"Very well, Master," I said. We had been speaking in English. I did not understand why he should say that now.

"We must made do, as we can," he said.

"Master?" I asked.

"Had you oil to pour upon the fire, causing it to blaze up suddenly, from the darkness of embers, that might make it difficult to see, for a moment, the light."

"Yes, Master?" I said.

"But it is too early for the fire to have died down as yet," he said. "Yes, Master," I said, puzzled.

I watched the sharpening stone move to the blade, so slowly, so smoothly, so evenly.

"If someone were to approach," he said, "from behind me, you would undoubtedly see him almost immediately."

"Yes, Master," I said. "There is a clearing behind you, for perhaps fifty feet or more."

His head was down. He worked with the stone.

"Accordingly," he said, "if someone did not wish to be observed in approaching the camp, he might come from that direction which lies more behind you, where there are trees and brush."

"I suppose so, Master," I said.

"Do not look around," he said.

"Very well, Master," I said.

"Such an individual," he said, "might await his opportunity, for example, for a time when he might approach, unobserved."

"Master?" I said, frightened.

"For example," he said, "when someone might be intent upon some other task, not paying attention to that avenue of approach."

"Master?" I asked.

"Do you recall this afternoon," he said, "when we went for our walk?" "Of course," I said.

"Do you recall the bodies of the two beasts in the meadow," he asked. "Yes," I said. I had not cared to much look at them, but he had drawn me to them, by the leash, and had had me do so. They had lain contorted in death. The sight was not pretty. He had then, mercifully, had us return to the camp. "Do you recall anything unusual about them?" he asked.

"No," I said.

"Do you not recall," he asked, "that on each there was a sprinkling of dust?" "Yes," I said, puzzled.

"How do you suppose it got there?" he said.

"Blown by the wind," I said.

"No," he said, "not in the meadow."

"I do not understand," I said.

"You do not understand the significance of that dust?" he said.

"No," I said.

"They, too, have their ceremonies, and rites," he said.

"They?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "The dust is ceremonial."

I said nothing.

The tiny hairs on the back of my neck rose.

"It would seem," he said, "I am now nearly finished with sharpening the sword. Shortly, then, I might be expected to look up."

"Oh, Master," I said, terrified.

"Do you detect anything?" he asked.

"No," I said.

"He will approach from downwind," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said.

"If you have time," he said, "you are not to rise to your feet, but to throw yourself to the side. You may then rise up and flee." He spoke with an unnatural calmness. His movements with the stone of the blade were smooth and unhurried, but I sensed that every nerve and cell in his body was tense and alive. "I will have the opportunity for only one thrust," he said. The blade was now oriented toward me. Almost directly toward me. "Do you remember the direction in which I sent Tela, and Mina and Cara, from the camp?"

"Yes," I said.

"In that direction lies the camp of Pietro Vacchi," he said. "It will also, of course, bring you to the Vitkel Aria."

"Master!" I said.

"Do you understand?" he asked.

"Yes," I whispered.

"Remember that there is no freedom or escape for you on this world. You are merely a collared slave. It is my advice, accordingly, that you submit yourself as soon as possible to the first man, or men, you think are capable of defending you. If you are caught, on the other hand, you might be considered a runaway, and be forced to bear the grievous consequences of such a foolish indiscretion." "I am a slave," I said. "I do not wish to be free."

"You will not be," he said.

"I am afraid," I said, "terribly afraid."

"Do not be afraid," he said. "He is not coming."

"Oh, Master," I breathed, joyously, "Master!" I felt incredible relief. My entire body relaxed. I leaned forward, toward him, toward my master. Almost at the same time I heard a sudden, bestial, deafening, screaming roar behind me and the movement of a huge body and my master was leaping to his feet lunging over the fire thrusting his sword into the darkness behind me over my head and I twisted and saw two great, hairy arms outstretched reaching for him, which closed about him, and I screamed, the body and jaws of the thing over me. I between it and my master, and I threw myself to the side.

In an instant I turned, wildly, on all fours, and, in the half darkness, the fire muchly struck and scattered, tiny flames about, from fiery brands and flaring leaves, saw two shapes, a gigantic bestial shape, and that of a human being, a man, locked together, swaying, clawed feet and sandals moving in the dirt, struggling for leverage and position.

My master had said it was not coming, but how could he have known that, I now realized, at that particular time, without even looking up? No, he had know it was coming. When he had said that it had seemed, in my relief, that the entire physiology to the tone of my body had changed. Perhaps this had suggested to the beast, by sight, and perhaps even by smell, that its presence was undetected, unsuspected, that we were unready, that we thought ourselves safe, that that was the moment of attack. Naturally it would wish to dispose of the man first. I, a female, unarmed and naked, if it were interested in me at all, could be left for later. I had even leaned forward, happily. Clearing the path to him.

The two forms seemed very still now, near the remains of the fire, standing, hardly moving.

"Tuka," called my master, throatedly."Yes, Master!" I cried.

"Your permission to flee," he said, speaking the words one at a time, slowly, "is revoked."

"Yes, Master!" I cried.

I saw the long, hairy arms of the gigantic beast slowly relaxing their grasp on my master" s body. The tunic was torn from his back. I did not know if he could stand without the support of the beast.

"Build up the fire," he said. His voice seemed strangely full and resonant. But, too, it seemed he could hardly speak.

I hurried to gather the scattered brands, and other wood, and thrust them to the fire. I attended also to the few remaining tiny flares of flame about, those left from the scattering of the fire. It was not difficult to extinguish these. I scattered some and heaped dirt on others. Some I stamped out.

Approaching the fire with an armful of sticks, from the pile to one side, gathered earlier in the woods by Tupita and myself. I saw the eyes of the beast turned upon me. I do not know if it understood what it saw. They seemed expressionless. It was still on its feet. From its chest there protruded the handle of a sword. It had been halted from further penetration by its guard. It had been, the force compounded by its own charge, driven through the body. My master stood back a bit, his tunic in shreds upon his back. his arms were bloody. His chest was bloody, too, though I think from the blood of the beast. He was trembling. The beast then sat down, back on its haunches, by the now built-up fire. It shook its head and bit at the fur on its arm, as though grooming itself. It then, slowly, lay down. The handle of the sword rose an inch or so, then, showing the blade, as the beast lay back. the point had apparently entered the dirt behind it, but, too, in virtue of this resistance, the blade itself, pressed up, emerged slightly from the body. The beast reached to the handle of the sword with its large hands, or paws, with those six, tentaclelike digits. They touched the handle but could not close about it. It then put its arms down, to the sides. Blood was at its mouth, and chest, from around the blade.

My master looked at me. He was breathing heavily. He was visibly shaken. "Lie across it," he said, on your back, with your head down."Swiftly I put the sticks on the fire and lay across the beast, on my back, my head down. I was terrified. It was still alive. I could feel the heat of its body, its breathing, its blood on my back. my master" s weapon was still in the beast. It was near my waist, as I lay, on my left. He was breathing heavily. He looked down at me. He then suddenly, rudely, fiercely, not sparing me, thrust apart my knees. We were alive, the two of us! We had survived! "Master!" I cried, impaled by, and submitting to, the beauty, the glory, the surgency of his eager, claimant, merciless, rejoicing manhood. And it was thus he took the slave, who was his, putting her to his pleasure on the body of the beast. This act, in its emotional power, its significance and complexity, was indescribable. It was an act of assertive aggressiveness, of vitality, of joy, of significance. It was a release from the fear of death, it was a thanksgiving for fate and fortune, it was an affirmation of life, it was the cry of a wild verr in the mountains, the leaping of a fish in the sea, the roar of the larl, the hiss of the sleen, the scream of a tarn in the sky. Only to those who have been closest to death is the value of life most dear.

He then, gently, drew me from the beast. He kissed me, and held me to him. "Tomorrow we will leave the camp," he said.

"It was for this that you were waiting?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

"It is dead," I said.

"Yes," he said.

He then drew his sword from the body of the beast, and cleaned it on its fur. "You did not choose to leave an enemy behind you," I said.

"Nor did he," he said.

"Would it have followed you?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

"You knew that it was about," I said, "because of the dust of the others, those in the meadow, their burial."

"I thought it would linger," he said. "The dust, of course, convinced me that my conjecture was correct."

"You seem to know something of these things," I said, shuddering.

"A little," he said.

"What is to be done now?" I asked.

"I shall take it to the meadow, and put it with the others," he said, "burying it, as it did them, with a handful of dust. After that there is the matter of rites, of suitable ceremonies."

"It is only a beast," I said to him.

"No," he said, "it is more than a beast."

I looked at him.

"It was of the People," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said.

"Remain here," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said.