Vagabonds of Gor

39 The Alcove

I struck lightly on the door of the paga tavern, the alley door. A panel slid back. "Entrance," I said.

"Come around to the front," said a voice.

"I would have entrance here," I said.

"As you wish," he said.

I looked back, down the alley. I thought I detected the shadows which had been with us since the camp, darknesses in the darkness, moving furtively to the side, to the edge of the buildings. Such things, fellows I had seen lurking about our camp the last day or so, were one of the reasons I had elected to come to Brundisium, and without Marcus. I did not wish to involve him in difficulties which were not his concern.

The door opened a little, and I shoved Ina, barefoot, hooded and braceleted, the leash dangling from a buckled leather collar on her neck, inside. I followed her. I watched the fellow slide shut the bolts on the door.

We were now inside the back door of the tavern, in a small, dimly lit corridor. The tavern was the Jeweled Whip, one of a large number of such taverns on Dock Street in Brundisium.

"Thigh," said the fellow who had admitted us, looking at Ina. He wished, of course, to ascertain that she was a slave.

"She is a free woman," I said.

"We do not want her kind here," he said.

"Where am I?" asked Ina, from within the hood.

"It is against the law," said the fellow. "We do not need more trouble with the authorities. And such, too, inhibit the girls."

"Prepare her," I said. He looked at me.

I held up a full copper tarsk.

"Ah," he said.

In this tavern the girls came for a tarsk bit, and that with some pick of food, and paga.

He took the coin.

I gave him the key to Ina's bracelets.

He then, taking Ina by the upper left arm, conducted her down a side corridor. I myself kept to the main corridor and, in a moment or two, thrusting open a door, entered into the main paga room.

I caught a glimpse, between bodies, of a naked slave writhing in a net on the dancing floor. Four other slaves were dressed in such a way as to suggest that they might be slave hunters, but their costumes were such as to leave no doubt as to their own sex, and considerable charms. They were on their feet and had light staffs. They whirled about the captive, preventing her escape, and exulting over her, pretending to prod and torment her. There was much skilled staff work in progress, the staffs often behaving in unison, circling about, changing hands, striking on the floor together, seeming to poke at the victim, to strike her and such. It was a version of the dance of the netted slave. Slave nets, of course, are used by many slavers, constituting standard items in their hunting equipment. To be sure, they are usually used in rural areas, as when raiding small villages, and such. In a city, nooses, gag hoods, chemicals, and such, are more often used. To be sure it is sometimes regarded as amusing to take a sophisticated urban woman in a net, a device usually reserved for the acquisition of rustic maids.

I sat back from the dancing floor, my back to the wall, the musicians to my left.

"Paga, Master?" asked a girl, kneeling beside the low table, behind which I sat, cross-legged.

I regarded her. She was well made up, with lipstick, eye shadow, and such, a painted slave, as it is said. There was a pearl droplet on a tiny golden chain, on her forehead. She was clad in a snatch of yellow slave silk. She was necklaced, as well as collared: Her left arm was encircled with a serpentine ornament. Her wrists were heavy with bracelets. Two of these, one on each wrist, were locked there. On them were snap rings. They could thus be joined, and she could not free herself from them. Her left ankle was belled, these bells being attached to a locked anklet.

"Yes," I said, but I would nurse that paga.

She rose to her feet humbly, head down, and then, with a swirl of slave silk and a flash of bells, turned and hurried to the paga counter.

I studied the fellows in the tavern. I did not see any here who had been in the vicinity of our camp.

I had thought that they might make their move outside, in the alley. They had not done so.

The dance was coming to an end and the slave who had been "netted," now well in custody, bound and leashed, was being displayed by the «hunters» to the patrons. Now the captive knelt in the center of the dance floor, the «hunters» exultant about her. Then, as the music swirled to a conclusion, the captive lowered her head, humbly. There was much Gorean applause, the striking of the left shoulder with the palm of the right hand. There was then, suddenly, the snapping of a slave lash, and the «hunters» swiftly stripped themselves, cast aside their staffs and knelt with the prisoner. Then one of the fellows from the tavern took the net and cast it over the lot of them. No longer then were the hunters hunters. Now, they, too, were only netted slaves. Then, to a passage of music, all rose up, hunted and hunters, all now in the net, and, in the small, pretty running steps of hastening slave girls, hurried from the floor. There was more applause.

The girl who had gone to fetch my paga now returned and knelt before the table. She kissed the goblet, and then, her head down, between her extended arms, proffered it to me. "Paga, Master?" she asked.

I took the paga and put it on the table.

"Sipa, Master?" she asked. She came, of course, with the price of the drink.

"You may go," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

Often, of course, one does not make use of the girl who comes with the drink. Many men, for example, come to such a tavern merely to drink, to hear the news, to visit with friends, such things. Some come to them to play Kaissa. If one is interested in a particular girl, of course, it is a simple matter to summon her to your table.

I looked about the floor, at the numerous patrons. Although most of them were doubtless fellows from Brundisium, citizens of that polity, there were many others about, as well, in particular, oarsmen from the galleys in the harbor, not far away, and soldiers from the camp outside the walls, mostly mercenaries, on which Cos depends heavily, but some, too, who were apparently regulars.

I considered the doors leading off the main paga room. Some of those were undoubtedly the doors to private dining areas.

One of those doors opened and a luscious, dark-haired slave emerged, clad in a light brown tunic. She burned to the paga counter to fetch paga, which she then, carefully, carried back into the other room, closing the door behind her.

The last time I had seen the luscious wench had been earlier this evening, returning from the wagon of Ephialtes. She had been naked, her hands braceleted behind her back, being marched at her master's stirrup, chained to it by the neck.

I had, of course, seen her before, and not merely this evening, neck-chained at the stirrup. I had seen her months ago, helpless in chains beside her master's desk. Indeed, at that time, she had not even been a legal slave, the legalities of her condition, to her distress, given what had been done to her, and what she had become, being denied to her by her master. Now, however, she was not merely a natural slave, aware of herself, reduced, and self-confessed, begging the resolution and solace of the collar, but a legal slave, fully and perfectly imbonded in law. Once she had been the Lady Cara, of Venna. She had been overheard making disparaging remarks about a certain city. A mercenary captain from that city, learning of this, saw to it that she was brought naked and in chains into his keeping. Soon she had learned what it was to be in the power of such a man. In his office I had heard this female, who had spoken disparagingly of his city, who had then been well taught her chains, beg from him the brand and collar. What now would be done with her? Even though she had then been turned in effect into a pleasure slave, much as might be purchased in any market, he had, it seems, considered having her serve in his city as a mere house slave, or even, in spite of what she had now become, if it pleased him, denying her the collar, as a mere cleaning prisoner, a confined servant, a mere housekeeper in captivity. But he had, it seems, relented, acceding to her piteous entreaties, at length accepting her as the slave she begged to be, for earlier this evening, she in a position of the display slave, at her master's stirrup, given her exposure, there had been no mistaking the brand on her thigh, the common Kajira mark. There had been some other slaves, too, following the slim line of mercenaries on the road, beauties serving as pack slaves, bearing burdens. I had recognized one among these, as well, one struggling, bent over, with a burden perhaps somewhat heavier than those of the others. She had once been Lucilina, the preferred slave of Myron, Polemarkos of Temos, cousin to Lurius of Jad, Ubar of Cos, commander of the Cosian forces in the south. Indeed, she had been not only a high slave, and the preferred slave of the Polemarkos, but his confidante, as well. She had, thus, been privy to many secrets. Too, through her wiles and his weakness, she had exercised great influence over him. She had, thus, though ultimately only a slave, become a force in his retinue. Even free men had shamefully courted her favor. Her influence might be the difference between the favor and the disfavor of the Polemarkos, between advancement and neglect, between promotion and disgrace. Then, tricked and captured, she had been smuggled out of the Cosian camp, to a nearby city, to find herself there in common chains as a common girl. She had then been put under suitable disciplines and subjected to exact, sustained Gorean interrogation. Later, emptied of all sensitive and pertinent military and political information, and retaining merely her values as a female, she was given away as might have been any other spoil of war, she in this instance, and by design, to one of the captain's lowest soldiers, a rude and common fellow of the lowest rank, to serve him in absolute and uncompromising bondage, as one of the lowest and most common of slaves. Her name, at last I had heard, had been Luchita. I did not know if it would be the same now or not. Similarly, I did not know what might now be the name of the former Lady Cara, of Venna. I would have supposed 'Cara', that seeming to me suitable for a slave name, but I did not know. It could be anything. The city of which the former Lady Cara had spoken disparagingly, before being brought into the custody of the mercenary captain was Tarnburg. The city to which the former Lucilina, the former preferred slave of Myron, the Polemarkos, had been smuggled was Torcadino, then held by the same mercenary captain, Dietrich of Tarnburg, of course. This evening I had seen a line of mercenaries, perhaps a hundred in all, with some slaves, mostly pack slaves, some eight or ten of them, approaching Brundisium. The leader of the mercenaries, and several of them, astride their tharlarion, wore wind scarves, rather like those worn in the Tahari, protecting themselves from the dust of the journey. These served, as well, doubtless inadvertently, to conceal their features. I would have thought little of the passage of these mercenaries, what with so many hundreds about, here and there, coming and going, had I not recognized the slave at the leader's stirrup, and, indeed, later, one of the beauteous pack slaves. As I stood back, with others, off the road, as they passed, the leader, and the others, would not recognize me. I had made inquiries tonight in Brundisium, of course, to ascertain the whereabouts of these fellows. I learned first what quarter of the city they had entered, and, later, what inns, hotels and taverns they might be patronizing. This was not difficult for most mercenaries in the vicinity of Brundisium were not quartered in the city but in the Cosian camp. Accordingly, they would not be entering the city with their units, but rather, if they entered it at all, as individuals, or in small groups.

"We present to you, Master," said one of two slaves, conducting a woman before my table, "a female."

The two slaves then removed their hands from the woman's arms, and deferentially knelt, on either side of the woman, who remained standing.

I indicated that the two slaves might leave and they did so. I then indicated that the woman might kneel, and she did so. There was a tiny, sensuous rustle of bells.

"You are belled," I said.

"Yes!" she whispered.

"Have you seen yourself?" I asked. "Did they show you to yourself?"

"Yes!" she said.

She might have been a paga slave. She had been made up, with slave cosmetics. On her forehead, suspended on a small tiny golden chain, there was a pearl droplet. About her neck, which wore no collar there were wound several necklaces, some dependent upon her even to her belly. On her upper left arm was coiled a serpentine armlet. Her body was ill concealed, clothed, if such be the word, in a bit of open-sided, diaphanous slave silk, suitable for a casual lifting aside. It was a slave garment, and would have well mocked the modesty of even a bond girl. As her thighs were bared, it could easily be seen that there was no brand there. How absurd, how incongruous this seemed! Her thigh seemed to cry out for the brand.

"Have you ever worn slave silk before?" I asked.

"No!" she said. "Of course not!"

"Some free women," I said, "purchase it secretly, and wear it in the privacy of their own compartments, sometimes weeping with need and sleeping at the foot of their own bed."

"How could you know such a thing?" she asked.

"From slavers," I said, "some of whom have caught the women there."

"I wanted to do that," she said, "but I lacked the courage."

"No matter," I said.

" 'No matter'?" she asked.

"No," I said, "A slaver could always put you in it, if he chose."

"Of course," she said.

"How do you like the feel of it on your body?" I asked.

"It is like nothing," she said, "and yet, frighteningly, something."

"Does it stimulate you?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, "terribly so, far more so than I had ever anticipated it could."

"You are very beautiful in it," I said.

"Thank you," she said.

"You will note that it can be easily lifted aside."

"Yes," she said.

"Can you imagine what it would be if it were lifted aside?"

"Yes!" she said. "Every bit of me is alive! Even now my skin is flaming!"

"Do you know the perfume you wear?" I asked.

"It is a slave perfume," she said.

"Yes," I said. It was a heady perfume. It made me wish to reach across the table, seize her, and throw her upon it, and then, there, on that small, smooth, hard surface, put her to my pleasure, ravishing her publicly. "Do you know its name?" I asked.

"No," she whispered. She was, after all, a free woman.

"It is a well-known Cosian perfume," I said, " 'The Chains of Telnus'."

"I see," she whispered.

"Cosian masters sometimes enjoy putting women of Ar, their slaves, in it."

"You speak of it as though it were a collar," she said.

"In a sense, it is," I said.

"I cannot help it," she said. "It, too, like the silk, excites me!"

"That is its intention," said I, "woman of Ar."

"Doubtless there are many slave perfumes," she said.

"Yes," I said, "hundreds."

"I never thought to be put in one," she said.

"But you now are in one," I said.

"Yes," she whispered.

I surveyed her, as a master might have a slave.

"You regard me, boldly," she said.

"Your current appearance calls for candid, detailed perusal," I said.

"As might that of a slave," she said.

"Yes," I said.

On her left ankle was an anklet, locked, on which was affixed a row of tiny slave bells. Her wrists wore bracelets, and two of these, sturdy bracelets, one on each wrist, were locked in place and equipped with snap rings, permitting them to be joined together.

I smiled.

How widely she had spread her knees before me.

"Slave girls did this to me," she said. "They made me up in this fashion. They garbed and adorned me!"

"I ordered you prepared," I said.

"I see," she said.

"You are extremely attractive," I said.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"They did an excellent job with you," I said.

"Take me to an alcove!" she begged. "Please take me to an alcove!"

"The free woman," I inquired, "begs to be taken to an alcove, in a paga tavern?"

"Yes!" she said.

I looked about the main room, carefully. I did not see any of the fellows who had been in the vicinity of the small camp earlier, those who had presumably followed me from the area of the temporary camp to the tavern.

"Yes!" she said.

I pointed to the paga goblet on the table. I had hardly touched it.

Quickly, with a tiny sound of bells, and the small sounds of the necklaces and bracelets, the girl reached for the paga goblet. Then, kneeling there before me, her knees widely, piteously, opened, clad in a bit of slave silk, she kissed and licked deferentially, humbly, at the goblet. Then, head down, her arms extended, she proffered it to me.

I took it from her and barely touched it to my lips. I did not wish, this night, to have my reflexes slowed.

I placed the goblet on the table.

"I have served you," she whispered. "I now wish to serve you further."

"Stand," I said.

Immediately she complied.

I left the paga goblet on the table and put a tarsk bit beside it. I then stood behind her, drew her wrists behind her back, and, by means of the snap rings on the two locked bracelets, fastened them there. I then took her by the upper left arm and conducted her to an alcove, where I thrust aside the leather curtain.

She stood there for a moment, terrified, regarding the small, lamp-lit interior, with its various accouterments and furnishings. Then I flung her to the furs. She turned about, on one side, and then the other, half sunk in the furs, looking about. On the wall to the left, as one entered, were various paraphernalia, in ordered arrangements, cuffs, chains, shackles, whips and such. She sat up in the furs, and, moved back, pushing back, frightened, as far as she could, until she had her back against the back wall. There she looked about herself, as well. To her left and right were two rings, suitable for fastening a woman's hands back and against the wall, should she be either sitting or kneeling, either facing the wall or the curtain. There was a similar pair of rings higher in the back wall to which she might be fastened standing, either facing the wall or curtain. There were several other rings about, too, here and there, mostly on the floor, permitting various arrangements such as the spread-eagling of the slave. There was also a holding ring in the wall to the right, as one entered, about two feet from the floor, probably as a utility in case one wished to have more than one girl in the alcove. On the other hand, there were enough rings about to accommodate more than one without this addition.

"I assume you have never been in an alcove like this before," I said.

"No!" she said.

"In a place such as this," I said, "women strive well to please men."

She looked about herself, frightened.

"Do you doubt it?" I asked.

"No!" she said.

"And would you," I asked, "strive well to please men in such a place?"

"Yes!" she said. "Yes!"

"I see," I said.

"Put me to the test," she said.

"Some women first learn who is master and who slave in such a place," I said, looking about.

"It may be taught to us anywhere," she said.

"An interesting remark," I said, "coming from a free woman."

She laughed ruefully. I wondered at this.

I regarded her.

"I cannot embrace you," she said, "as my hands are pinioned behind my back."

"I came to the tavern tonight," I said, "for three reasons, two of which have to do with you. One of these I will reveal to you."

She looked at me.

"I was curious to know whether or not you could survive in a certain modality of existence. I now, from what I see, think you could, though, of course, my inquiry has not yet been completed. I have not yet ascertained certain crucial data."

"I assure you," she said, "I can strive well to please men."

"You speak as a slave," I said.

"Are you surprised?" she asked.

"To be sure," I said, "in a place such as this, any woman would be concerned to strive well to please men."

"Certainly," she said. "We would be terrified not to. On the other hand, even if I were not in this place, I would wish to please men."

"Interesting," I said.

"I have always wanted to be attractive to men, and to please them," she said.

"Do you understand the meaning of that?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "Of course."

"You understand then what you are?" I asked. "Yes," she said.

I regarded her.

"I am ready," she said, "Ascertain your crucial data."

"I think you will be safe here," I said.

"I do not understand," she said.

I then drew her by the ankles forward on the furs and took a pair, of shackles, separated by about a foot of chain, from the wall. I snapped one shackle on her right ankle and threaded the other through the corner ring at the right, as you enter. I then thrust up the slave hells and snapped the second shackle on her left ankle.

"Your ankles do look well in shackles," I said. The key to the shackles, on a string, was on the same peg from which I had removed the shackles.

I then took a collar with a short, attached chain and lock ring from another hook. I then snapped the collar shut on her neck. It was, I suppose, judging from the look on her face, at any rate, the first time she had ever been locked in a collar. I then thrust her back to the furs and attached the dangling chain, by means of its lock ring, to a ring in the floor, near the back wall, on the left, as you would enter. I had thus fastened her diagonally between two of the rings, her ankles to one, her neck to another, that might be used in spread-eagling a slave, either on her back or belly. Given the shortness of the neck chain and the fastening on her ankles she could get her head up only a few inches from the furs. The key to the collar and the lock ring, it responding to the same key, was, like the shackles' key, on a string, suspended from the same peg from which I had removed the restraining device.

I then stood up, and looked down at the female. She was quite beautiful on the furs, in the lamp light. I thought she would be safe there, surely more so than if shackled in one of the public holding areas off the main paga room. She moved a little, looking up at me. I heard the bells, a tiny sensuous rustle of them on her fair ankle, just above the dark shackle. I smelled the slave perfume, the Chains of Telnus. It was heady. It was maddeningly exciting. It was with great pleasure that I looked down upon her. She was lusciously curvaceous, a dream of pleasure, the tiny chain across her forehead, with its tiny ornament, with the serpentine armlet, in the necklaces, the bracelets, the bells, the snatch of slave silk.

"Captor?" she asked.

"Were you given permission to speak?" I asked.

"May I speak?" she asked.

"Not without permission," I said.

"May I speak, please," she said.

"No," I said. Then I turned about, and forced myself to leave.