Kajira of Gor

25 I Leave the Mill

I saw him taking out the slave sack in the utility room This was not the first time I had been unchained and hurried to the utility room "Get in," he said.

Before he had taken the sack from its shelf he had ordered me to the floor of the utility room, to my back on the dusty boards.

"Lie there and juice;" he had told me. "Waste no time about it." I had lain there and, briefly, shut my eyes and thought of his might and power, and my helpless slavery, and then I was ready, almost in a moment, to receive him he had had me swiftly.

I crawled into the sack, and it was pulled up, over my head, and laced shut I then felt it dragged across the floor.

He then lifted it up, partly, I now sitting in it, and left it against a wall. He then left The confinement was not intended to be one of full security, of course. If it had been, then I would have been bound and gagged within it, that I might be able, by fingernails or teeth, to attack seams or cut through the leather. Indeed, if I caused the least bit of damage the slave sack, I had little doubt but what I would be well whipped, sent in the slave sack is, incidentally, a form of Punishment for a girl. l did not think, that I was being punished At least I did not know anything that I had done which might have displeased As always; as far as I knew, I had tried to be such to him that he would find me pleasing. Perhaps he was angry with me because of the welt on my face, but that was not my fault. Last night I had been struck by Luta. If he wanted to punish someone he should have punished her. She was very jealous of Emily and myself, who seemed clearly to be Borkon's favorites. Last night, after supper, my slave needs much upon me, I had begged to juice for Borkon. He had permitted this in his quarters. When I had been returned to the dormitory and the door had been locked behind me, she had been up and waiting. My face was still sore. It was not my fault that she did not find herself being put to Borkon's pleasure. He certainly was free to choose her, and not Emily or myself, or one of our other chain sisters. It was no secret in the mill that she regarded herself as Borkon's slave in some special sense. Ever since he had whipped and conquered her in the yard she had been very possessive about him. She was the best worker on the chain. Yet he scarcely seemed to notice her. Sometimes she would even try to be a bit dilatory or recalcitrant, to attract his attention, but commonly this only earned her a beating, and that usually from a subordinate whip master. Interestingly, in her slavery, Luta had ceased to be ugly. Her ugliness had been, it was now clear, largely a matter of expression, as it often is, expressions which had made manifest her frustration and hatred, and her misery. Though she was now no longer ugly she remained, I suppose, rather homely and plain. On the other hand, this homeliness or plainness, at times, seemed touched with a vulnerability and softness which, especially when she was near Borkon, made it seem almost beautiful. The exercises and diet of the slave, of course, had improved her figure considerably. I did not see, frankly, why Borkon did not give her a trial at his feet. I did not think she was all that bad, really. Too, he was not Gor's most handsome fellow. Too, I would think it should count for something with a man if the woman desires to serve him deeply and fully in all ways, and is in love with him.

It was hot and stuffy in the slave sack, but it was, at least, a respite from the work with the loom. It is tiring, Ahn in and Ahn out, standing, chained, by the loom, operating it.

There is the raising and lowering of the warp threads to form the lines between which the weft is placed. There is the flinging back and forth of the shuttle, inserting the weft. There is the moving of the batten, attached to the reed, thrusting the weft back and locking it in place, Too, one must feed the cloth properly and remove it correctly. One must attend to the rollers, the weights and stretchers.

I suddenly became aware that hands were unlacing the slave sack.

"You are Tiffany, aren't you?" said a voice. "Come out of there." "Yes, Master," I said. It was one of the mill officials. He Was over ten work chains.

"Why aren't you at your loom?" he asked.

"I don't know, Master," I said.

"what were you doing in there?" he asked.

"I don't know, Master," I said. "Perhaps I was being punished." "what for?" he asked.

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

"Come along," he said. "Aemilianus, the nephew of Mintar, is in the mill." "What is he doing here?" I asked.

"It is supposedly merely a surprise inspection," he said, "but one supposes there is something more to it."

I then, almost running, hurried after him, returning to my loom.

"Borkon should be trounced," he said.

I quickly obeyed.

Borkon, not looking pleased at all, was standing nearby.

"Step forth, here, child," said the young man, "and turn slowly before me." I complied, inspected as a naked slave. I saw Emily at the loom next to mine. The shackle had been removed from her left ankle. She was standing near her loom, naked. She held her tunic in her right hand.

"Borkon, you sly fellow," chided the young man, "you have been holding out on us."

He who had fetched me from the slave sack, Borkon's immediate superior, cast him a glowering look.

"You are Tiffany, are you not?" asked the young man. said the well-dressed young man, in short, silken mantle, with a golden "Here is the maid from Loom chain her. Now, child, stand here, the silken tunic, clasp at the left "No, do not and remove your tunic"

"Yes, Master," I said.

"You may kneel," he said. Swiftly I did so. "You are pretty, my dear," he said. "You may open your knees.

Swiftly I did so.

He then turned to Emily. "You may kneel, Emily," ~ said. Swiftly she knelt. "You, too; are pretty," he smiled Swiftly she opened her knees, baring to Him tender intimacies, enslaved, and the sweet interior softness of her thighs.

"Your name, "Emily,' is very beautiful," he said. "As you probably know, it is a barbarian corruption of nyge, my name. It seems that fate has thrown us together." The gens name the clan name.

"Perhaps, Master," she said, frightened. "Thank you, Master."

"And you are a barbarian, are you not, Tiffany?" he asked "Yes, Master," I said.

"And a very pretty one," he said.

"Thank you, Master," I said.

"Can you believe it, Borkon," asked the young man, "if were not for hearsay information, casual remarks overheard at the office, I would not even have known that two such beauties graced our looms."

Borkon was silent "These are the two beauties of the mill," said the your man to a tall, stout fellow standing nearby.

"They are certainly pretty," said the stout fellow. "But they have, in my opinion, many lovely women at the looms." stout fellow was the mill master. I had seen him only twice before in the previous five months.

"These are the best of the current crop," said the your man.

"Perhaps," said the mill master.

"Have them sent to my house," said the young man, and turned away.

Emily and I looked at one another, frightened.

Borkon looked angry. Luta was beaming.

"I beg to please you, Master," said Luta, putting herself the feet of Borkon. The chain was on her left ankle, go behind her; by it she was fastened to the loom. She had her head down, kissing at his feet. Never before, as far as I knew had she been so bold. It was no secret in the mill, of course that she was the slave of Borkon. Indeed, she had been since that first day in the yard, some five months ago.

"what need have I of a tarsk sow?" he snarled.

She lifted her head to him, lovingly, pleadingly. I saw that the diet and exercise had shaped her excitingly. Her face, in its plainness and homeliness, seemed somehow, now, in its softness, its tenderness, its vulnerability, very beautiful. "Take me then to your lair and rut with me there, Master," she said. "I beg to be the tarsk sow to your boar."

He looked down at her, startled. "Perhaps," he said.

I felt a slave bracelet closed about my left wrist. The companion bracelet, on its three links of chain, was then closed about the right wrist of Emily. We looked at one another, frightened.

"Come along, Girls," said the fellow who had fetched me forth from the slave sack, he who was Borkon's immediate superior.

"Yes, Master," said Emily.

"Yes, Master," I said.

We then, naked, braceleted together, carrying our slave tunics, followed him down the long aisle between the looms.