Witness of Gor

42

“Shhh,” I heard. “Do not make any noise.”

I awakened on the mat. It must have been well after the mat check.

It was Aynur’s voice.

It was dark in the room. I could hear the breathing of several of the other flowers, asleep nearby on their mats.

“Mistress?” I asked.

I was still on my belly, from the switching I had received the preceding evening.

“Place your wrists, crossed, behind your back,” said Aynur. I complied and, in an instant, with a double loop, they were corded together.

“Do not many any noise,” said Aynur.

“What is it?” I whispered, frightened.

“You are to be taken to see the master,” she whispered. I was startled to hear this. Was this how he had his girls brought to him, in the darkness of the night, secretly? Or, did this have to do with other business, clandestine business perhaps, nocturnal interrogations? Perhaps he was curious to know what had transpired in the garden. Indeed, perhaps the stranger was with him and I must now be brought before them.

“Should I not be silked?” I asked.

“You will go as you are,” she said.

Aynur then reached before me and thrust a wad of cloth into my mouth. This she bound in place with a folded scarf, knotted behind the back of my neck. The original wad of cloth, now held in, as I struggled with it, moving it about in my mouth, expanded to fill my oral cavity. “Be very quiet,” said Aynur. “Do not make any noise.” It was an effective gag. Even had I dared, I could have done little to make myself heard. “Get up,” said Aynur. I rose to my feet. I felt her had on my back. “Move,” she said, “barbarian.” I was pressed toward the door. The door was now unlocked. I receded her, directed by her, down the main corridor, and then into a side passage, past several doors, and then into a small room. It was dark. Aynur closed the door behind us. Surely this was not the compartments of the master!

“Sit,” said Aynur.

I sat down.

“Cross your ankles,” said Aynur.

I did so and Aynur, in the darkness, bound them together.

A moment or so later a fire-maker was struck in the room and a man, masked, lit a tiny lamp on a table. There was another man in the room, as well, also masked.

Near the table, on the floor, there was a slave box.

“This is the slave,” said Aynur. “I deliver her to you, Masters.”

I struggled suddenly with the bonds, but could not free myself.

The men regarded me, bemused.

I tried to speak but was prevented by the gag. I could utter only small sounds, pleading sounds, questioning sounds, sounds of misery and fear.

“You have done well, slave,” said one of the men.

“Thank you, Master,” she said.

Then Aynur turned to me. “Do not fear, barbarian slut,” said she, “but after today, sooner or later, I would have found a way to get you out of the garden! Do not think to lie again, filthy little slave, in the arms of my Camillus!”

I supposed that guards might be sometimes suborned, with the promise of the gift of dangerous, delicious, clandestine favors, and such, to cooperate in such matters. Intrigues in the gardens, in the slave quarters, can be quite fearful.

“See her struggle,” said Aynur to the guards. Then she again addressed herself to me. “One of the guards, one who leaves the city tonight,” she said, “will be thought to have stolen you from the slave quarters, doubtless for your golden collar.”

I looked at her, angrily, over the gag. Did she truly think I might be stolen for my golden collar?

“I myself will return to the quarters, locking the door behind me. How surprised, how horrified, will we all be in the morning!”

Again I struggled, but Aynur had tied me quite well.

“But I have been saved the trouble of arranging these matters,” she said, “for others, it seems, are interested in you. Tonight’s events have been planned, it seems, for some time, but only this evening was I contacted by a guard, he who leaves the city this night. You can imagine with what joy I attended his proposals.”

I looked to the men. It was hard to read their eyes. I did not think they were guards in the house.

One thing unnerved me, terribly. Though I was stripped and bound before these men, I did not seem to find myself regarded with interest, curiosity, or relish I might have anticipated, that which one might expect to be accorded to such as I, a naked, bound slave. I hoped, of course that this might prove to be an ordinary, if unusually daring, case of slave theft. Stealing slaves, as you might expect, is a not unusual practice on this world. Among many young men the theft of slaves, and even of free women, from enemy cities is regarded as a sport. Among slavers it is regarded as a business. The prevention of slave theft is one reason for the presence of slave rings in public places, for the fastening of slaves to the foot of couches at night, and so on. I did not much fear slave theft as it would extract me from the boredom, if security, of the garden, indeed, I welcomed the prospect for I hoped that it would, sooner or later, bring me within the grasp of a master who would know how to handle me, and would do so, with audacity and command. But I did not think these men were simply interested in picking up a pleasure-garden girl, even one who might be of unusual interest, either for their own house or to put on the block in some foreign city, hopefully turning a tidy profit on her. I might be beautiful or not, but I did not think these men were interested in that sort of thing. They did not seem to regard me with an interest which suggested they wanted me for themselves, nor, as far as I could tell, did I find in their gaze any speculations as to how I might appear to possible buyers, or to an unknown principal.

“Put her in the box,” said Aynur.

I was lifted up and put in the box. For a moment I was sitting up, wildly, within it, but then, by one hand in my hair, pulling back and down, and the other, lifting my ankles, and forcing them back, I was brought down in the box, on my back. I tried to rear up, but I was pressed down, rudely, uncompromisingly, just under my throat, by the hand which had governed my ankles. My bound ankles were then pulled forward and down, in such a way that the soles of my feet were on the floor of the box. I whimpered, frenziedly, pleadingly. I lay in the box then, on my back, my knees drawn up. It was small. I was cramped within it. The lid was shut. I heard bolts snap. It was s sturdy metal box, and is, in itself, its own security device. Its occupant need not be bound. It had four sets of perforations, for the admission of air. One was to my left and one to my right, where my head was. The others were to the left and right, near my ankles, as I lay. In this fashion, whether a girl’s head is to the left or right, as she is inserted into the box, there will be breathing holds in the vicinity of her face. I could see out through the perforations, by turning my head one way or the other. These perforations, in each set, were so arranged as to form a cursive kef, which is the first letter in the word ‘kajira’. The cursive kef, in variations, is also used as the common slave mark for kajirae. On my left thigh, just below the hip, I bore the same mark, put there by a slave iron.

“Bury it deep!” laughed Aynur. “Cast it into the foulest carnarium!”

I struggled inside the box. I whimpered madly. It would be only too easy, in the dead of night, to bury the box somewhere outside the walls, in some remote place, or to cast it into one of the carnariums, the refuse pits outside the wall, into which garbage, and excrement, and all filth, as from the emptying of the giant vats of the insulae, might be thrown. But could they not, if this were their intent, strangle me first, utilizing some convenient string of cord, or smother me with a blanket or cushion, one easily found, perhaps one almost at hand, or even enter a blade swiftly, mercifully, into my heart? Surely that would not be difficult. They were armed!

“Before such things are considered,” said one of the men, “we must make certain that she is the correct slave.”

I turned my head to the right in misery, looking wildly though the tiny perforations at Aynur.

“She answers the description,” said Aynur. “She had a private sale. She came to the house at the time in question.”

“One not of the house was within the house today,” said one of the men to the other. “He may have spoken to her.”

“He was alone with her in the garden,” said Aynur, angrily. “He undoubtedly spoke with her!”

“Not necessarily,” said one of the men.

Aynur looked down, angrily.

Sometimes the masters use us in silence, neither permitting us to speak, nor, for their part, deigning to speak to us. This is a very humiliating way in which to be handled, but in it we are left in no doubt as to the fact that we are mastered. Human speech does not pass between us. We are put in one position or attitude, or another. We must obey the slightest signs and indications. It helps to remind us that we are animals.

“I think we should assume words passed between then,” said the other man.

“Not necessarily,” said the first. “It is sometimes amusing to treat a pleasure-garden girl, or a high slave, as though she might be a low slave, or even the most worthless of common slaves.”

I supposed this was true. The difference between a high slave and a low slave, of course, is only the whim of the master. It is they who decide on which step of the dais, so to speak, we may kneel, or even if we may approach the dais at all.

“Surely we are not prepared to take the risk,” said the other.

“No,” said the first. “It has been resolved that we shall not wait.”

“I have delivered her into your hands,” said Aynur. “Pay me.”

“Are you standing?” asked one of the men.

Aynur fell to her knees, angrily. Then she put out her hand, palm up.

“Pay me!” she said.

I sensed that one of the men removed some coins from his wallet. I heard the clink of metal.

Aynur seemed quite pleased. Her had was out.

I saw a hand poised over hers, as though to drop coins into her opened palm.

“You are certain,” asked the man, “that you wish these coins to touch your hand?”

“Master?” asked Aynur, pulling back her hand suddenly, as though it might have been burned.

“It is nothing to me,” said the man. “But I thought it might be something to you.”

Aynur, suddenly, angrily, fearfully, held her hands behind her back. They might have been bracelted there.

Aynur, though she was first amongst us, was nonetheless a pleasure-garden girl. Pleasure-garden girls are commonly forbidden to touch coins. Reasons for this are obvious, for example, that they might receive gratuities from guests and hide them; that they might take money from guards, or others, to further intrigues or to attempt to influence masters; that they be denied the power which coins might bring, in bribing guards or tradesmen, and so on. Indeed, slaves are commonly forbidden to touch money except under certain conditions, as when being sent to the market, and so on. In this house, as in many others, slaves, at least those of the pleasure garden, were not permitted to touch money. It can be a capital offense to do so, hands may be cut off, and such. Legally, of course, the slave can own nothing, not even as little as a tarsk-bit. It is, rather, she who is owned.

“No!” said Aynur, suddenly. “I do not want the money!”

“As you wish,” said the fellow. I saw the hand, presumably holding coins, withdrawn. I heard them clinking again, presumably being returned to a wallet, falling in with others. Aynur was furioius.

But she was a slave. She was slave helpless. Even so little as a word, or a veiled hint, to the house master, by someone, might call attention to her. Would it be worth her life, say, to retain the coins? Could she successfully hide them, if they were sought for? Could she dispose of them, without being found out? Would her denials be credited, if it were stated by some authority that she had taken them? Who were these men? Did they, perhaps, have the confidence of the master? Might they not even be his agents?

“I shall, with Masters’ permission,” she said, angrily, “return to the rest area.”

“You may find that difficult,” said one of the men.

“Masters?” she asked, frightened.

“I think you will find that the guard has closed the door, after you,” said the man.

“No!” cried Aynur, in horror.

The door, of course, locked automatically.

Certainly a guard had left the door open, and certainly he might have closed it later, following our exit. It would presumably be the same guard who had contacted her earlier, and who had left the door open for our exit, he who had apparently been suborned, he who might even, by now, have left the house, to depart the city.

“Masters!” protested Aynur.

Her terror was fully justified. She could not return to the rest area. She was locked out, and within the house. In the morning she would be found in the hall. She would then be punished, perhaps by being thrown to leach plants, perhaps by being fed to sleen.

“Yes?” said one of the men.

“What am I to do?” she begged.

“You may do whatever you wish,” he said, “but if I were you, I would accompany us.”

“You have arranged things thusly!” she said.

“Yes,” he said. “If you remain here you will surely die, and thus you would be wise to come with us. In this fashion, of course, you place yourself in our power. And if this is not the slave we seek, if you have delivered the wrong girl to us, if it turns out that you have been mistaken, or have sought to trick or betray us, you will be in our power, answerable, and fully, to our displeasure.”

She moaned.

“Stand,” said the other man. “Bracelets!”

Instantly Aynur stood and turned toward the door, placing her hands behind her back. I saw her wrists locked in slave bracelets.

“We have brought a cloak for you,” said the first man.

Aynur moaned.

He put a cloak about her shoulders, gently, as though she might have been a free woman. Then he turned her about, rudely, and, considering her, hooked it shut. He then pulled the cloak’s hood up and over her head, and down about her features. I saw her eyes within the shadows of the hood. She was looking down at the slave box. I did not know if she could detect my features within the perforations, or knew that I was looking out, or not. Her eyes were filled with fear. One of the men opened the door and looked out in the hall. He then turned to the room. He and his fellow then lifted up the slave box. I whimpered, helplessly. I felt myself carried though the door. Aynur, I was sure, hurried closely behind. An outer door had been left unlocked. In a few moments I was being carried though dark streets.