Mercenaries of Gor

27 I Sell a Blonde

I threw the blonde to her knees before Tenalion, slaver of Ar. It was he to whom Boabissia had earlier, inadvertently, returned herself, his slave. We were now, however, in his house of business, in his office there. She knelt inside an outlined yellow circle. It was a few feet before his desk. This circle had a diameter of about seven or eight feet. The border of this circle, delineating it, was about seven or eight inches in width, and was formed of yellow stones set mosaiclike into the smooth scarlet flooring.

"I bring you a woman," I said.

He rose from his desk and came about it, to stand a few feet from the blonde. I removed the leash from her neck. I separated the collar and strap. I coiled the strap, placing it within the collar. I then returned the two parts of the leash to my pouch. I glanced to the blonde. "Kneel with your knees more widely spread," I said.

She obeyed. I could see she was frightened, now that she was here. Perhaps she was having second thoughts. It was a bit late, however, for such thoughts. She squirmed a little, on her knees. She was attractive, doing so. This squirming, I think, was genuinely due to her fear and agitation, but, even so, I thought it might add to her price. She moved well. Her hands were still tied tightly behind her.

"Where is her brand?" asked Tenalion.

"She is a free woman," I said.

"I thought so," he said.

"You are in the house of a slaver," he said to the blonde.

"You kneel within a circle of assessment." She looked down at it. "I did not know," she whispered.

"It is about the size of a slave block," he said.

She nodded.

The circle, of course, was flush with the floor. The slave block, on the other hand, is normally about a yard to five feet high, and is designed to raise the girls above the crowd, so that they may be more easily seen by the bidders. "Have you ever seen a sale of female slaves?" he asked.

"No," she said.

"Perhaps you have some idea," he said, "of what they are like."

"Yes," she said.

"Usually the merchandise is exhibited stark naked and sold to the highest bidder," he said, "whose slave they then are, in all ways."

"I understand," she said.

"You are to be assessed," he said.

"I understand," she whispered.

"And eventually, doubtless," he said, "in one way or another, you will be sold as a slave."

"I understand," she said.

"Is she a virgin?" asked Tenalion.

"No," I said.

The blonde blushed hotly.

"I did not think so," said Tenalion…

The blonde put down her head.

"You are beautiful, my dear," he said.

"Thank you, Master," she said.

"Are you sexually responsive?" he asked.

She looked at me, wildly. "I do not know," she said.

"Yes," I said, "quite so, at least for one who is still substantially a free woman."

"In your opinion," asked Tenalion, "she shows slave promise?"

"Yes," I said.

"May I see?" asked Tenalion.

"Of course," I said.

"Oh!" cried the girl. "Please no! Not here! Not like this! I beg you! Oh, Oh, Master! Master! I could scarcely hold her then, squirming, bucking, on her knees. It was almost like trying to hold a small sleen. Her body was very strong in its passion. Then she looked at Tenalion, tears in her eyes, revealed before him as a superbly responsive female, in a man's hands no more than a slave.

"Excellent," said Tenalion.

"I would suppose," I said, "of course, that she might improve considerably, and indefinitely, in such matters, when she is truly a slave, when she is legally and fully imbonded."

She looked at me in wonder.

"Of course," said Tenalion.

The blonde put down her head, shuddering.

"Girl," said Tenalion.

She lifted her head.

"Are you prepared to enter slavery?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Will you strive to be a good slave?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Many masters are not patient with slaves," he said. "Do you understand what that means?"

"Master?" she asked.

"You are well advised to be fully pleasing to your masters," he said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"It is not pleasant to be whipped," he said.

"No, Master," she said.

"Similarly, it would not be pleasant to be subjected to many other conceivable punishments, or, say, to be thrown alive to hungry sleen," he said.

"No, Master!" she said.

"Be a good slave," he said.

"Yes Master!" she said.

"Do you think being a slave is merely a matter of crawling about your master's legs, and licking and kissing, and serving his intimate pleasures?"

"I do not know, Master," she said. "I have never been a slave."

"Do you think you would look well dancing before your master?" he asked. "I do not know," she said.

"Absolutely naked, of course," he said, "as you are now."

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

I, frankly, thought she would look quite well doing this. No one, however, had asked my opinion.

"Still," he said, "such things are only among the more obvious sexual modalities."

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Your entire life," he said, "will now be pervaded with sexuality, with your femaleness. Your life will now be a sexual one, a life in which your femaleness, for the first time, will be of undeniable and paramount importance, a life in which it will be overwhelmingly central. Everything else will take its coloration and meaning from that."

"Yes, Master," she said.

"It will be a life of total femaleness, and dedication, and service and love." "Yes, Master," she said.

"The smallest tasks in your life, how you clean your master's leather, how you set out his clothes, how you cook, and she said, how you shop, how you clean and launder, even the tiniest and most servile tasks, all such things, will become sexual, and all will become expressions of your femaleness, fitting and joyful manifestations of your worthless but helplessly proffered, gladly tendered love and service, that of only an insignificant slave."

"I understand," she said.

"The life of a female slave," he said, "is a life wholly given over to love. It is not a compromised life. It is not one of those lives which is part this, and part that. It is a total way of life, a total life. The female slave seeks to give all, selflessly, knowing that she, as she is a mere slave, a rightless animal owned by her master, one who can be bought and sold at his least whim, can make no claims, that she deserves nothing, and is entitled to not the least attention or consideration. There are no bargains made with her, nor arrangements."

"Yes, Master," whispered the girl. "And it is for such women," he said, "that men are willing to die." She put down her head, humbly.

"What do you want for her?" asked Tenalion.

I shrugged.

"Two silver tarsks?" he asked.

"Fine," I said.

"Not a thousand gold pieces?" asked the blonde.

Tenalion smiled. "You have a very unrealistic concept of the market," he said. "Too, you are no longer a free woman, and priceless. You are now only one slave among others, and now, within certain limits, have a specific monetary value." "But so little?" she asked.

"Prices are useful in helping women to understand themselves and rank themselves, at least in certain dimensions," he said.

"So little?" she asked.

"That is a high price," I told her. Indeed when Boabissia had returned herself to Tenalion, only one silver tarsk had changed hands.

"Oh," she said.

He reached to a bell on his desk and rang it. It was not unlike the bell which had been on his desk in his residence. Tenalion, I gathered, like most efficient people, was a creature of habit. This frees the mind so that it may better concentrate on important considerations. In a moment, as before, a fellow had entered the room.

"This is a slave," said Tenalion, indicating the blonde. "Take her below. See that she is fittingly marked as such. We do not want there to be any confusion in the future about the matter."

"Yes, Tenalion," said the fellow.

The blonde saw Tenalion place two silver tarsks in my hand. She looked at them, wonderingly. The slave, she, herself, so easily, now had a new master.

Tenalion's man, taking her by the upper arms, from behind, jerked her up to her feet.

"You do not even know my name!" she cried to me. My right hand, reflexively, flew up, striking her across the mouth, lashing her head back.

Tenalion's man, angrily, threw her again to her knees, before me.

She looked up at me, startled, frightened, blood about her mouth.

"You do not have a name," I told her.

"Yes, Master," she gasped.

I regarded her, idly. She was attractive, naked and bound, and on her knees. "Do you not wish to know who I was?" she asked.

"Who were you?" I asked.

"I was the Lady Lydia, she of the High Merchants, she whose wealth was in gems and land, she of the Tabidian Towers! she said.

"An excellent catch," smiled Tenalion. "I shall enjoy having her in my pens for a time, the lovely Lady Lydia, before her sale."

"Lydia," she said, "of the Tabidian Towers!"

"Does it matter?" I asked.

"No," she said, crushed. "It does not matter."

"You are now only a nameless slave," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said, head down.

"Take her away," said Tenalion.

The slave was pulled to her feet. She was roughly turned about. The hand of Tenalion's man was then in her hair, fastening itself deeply therein. It was like the closed talon of a bird of prey. She, bound, held, was helpless. She cried out softly, so held, startled, in pain. Then, bent over, her wrists confined in the cruel, encircling binding fiber, that which I had earlier put well on her, holding them mercilessly, so helplessly, behind her back, her head at his hip, stumbling, weeping, she was conducted swiftly from our presence. "She will be branded shortly," said Tenalion. "If you wish, a little later, in the afternoon, you might visit her in her pen."

"You are a kind fellow," I said.

He shrugged. "It is a weakness of mine," he said.