Kajira of Gor (20 page)

He tossed the soft flask to the top of the chest, atop his cloak, which I,

earlier, bidden, had folded and placed there.

“Why did you make me drink unsweetened slave wine?” I asked.

“Stand straighter,” he said.

I stood straighter.

“Why did you make me drink unsweetened slave wine?” I asked.

He looked me over, casually, not hurrying, from my head to my toes, and then,

slowly, back.

“It was fitting,” he said.

I gasped. The arrogance of himl

“What do you have therel” I said.

He had removed a pair of light bracelets, joined by about five inches of light

chain, from his pouch.

“Slave bracelets,” be said. “Turn around, facing the door, your hands behind

your back.”

Almost numbly I did so. I heard him approach me. Then he stood behind me,

quietly, not moving. Perhaps be was looking at me. Then, suddenly, I felt the

two bracelets flung about my wrists, striking them, encircling them and snapping

shut.

I was suddenly very frightened.

I tried, tentatively, behind my back, to separate my bands.

They could move only to the ends of their short chain.

“You are braceleted,” he said.

I leaned against the door, terrified, almost fainting, using it for support. I

was breathing deeply. My heart was pounding.

I was braceletedl He was busying himself elsewhere in the room. I do not think

he noted my condition.

How helpless I felt, braceleted.

In a moment he had returned to my vicinity, by the door. I now straightened my

body. I was struggling to regain my composure.

“You braceleted me easily,” I observed, lightly.

It, is not hard to bracelet a woman,” he said.

It had been done so casually, so expertly, with apparently so little thought.

Too, it had seemed to me to happen very suddenly, very decisively. In one

instant I was free, and in the next I was held helplessly, the prisoner of bands

and a chain. I was still shaken, perhaps even visibly so, with the enormity, of

what had been done to me. I had been made helpless.

“You have braceleted other women, haven’t you?” I askedL

He had done it so easily, so nonchalantly.

“Yes,” he said. I hated those other women. I tried again to separate my wrists.

I could not do so, of course. How short, how strong, seemed the chain that held

them in proximity to one another. Suddenly I felt very weak. I, like the other

women before me, perhaps women who were mere slaveas, wore the steel of Drusus

Rencius.

“We shall leave now,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I said. “Oh!” I said. “I did not mean that Forgive me! It slipped

out. I did not mean it.”

“Do not worry about it,” he said. “It is difficult for a woman clad as you are,

and braceleted, not to think of a man as her master.”

“Thank you, Drusus,” I said. “You are very kind. Such a mistake, as you might

imagine, is very embarrassing.”

“Doubtless,” he granted me, indulgently.

I wondered what it would be like to be owned, and to have to call a man

“Master.” But, of course, owned, it would be quite suitable and proper for one

to do so, for he would be, in fact, in such a situation, one’s Master. My mind

was racing. How could it be that I had called Drusus Rencius “Master”? How

inadvertently, how naturally, it had slipped out. I wondered if I were actually

a proud, free woman, as I thought, or was something else, perhaps only a slave.

“If Lady Sheila is ready,” he said, “perhaps we should leave now.”

I put up my head.

I reminded myself that I was not really, in a sense, braceleted. Oh, I wore the

steel. It was locked on me, and well, but I was the Tatrix of Corcyrus. I could

order Drusus Rencius to remove it from me at any moment I wished, and he would.

Thus, in that sense, it was not truly on me. I did shudder, for a moment, at the

thought of what it would be to be truly in such bonds, but then I hastily

dismissed such fearful and unsettling thoughts from my mind.

“Lady Sheila?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Let us go.”

He then opened the door and, holding me by the left arm, conducted me from the

room.

8
     
I Have Been in the House of Kliomenes; The Room in the Inn of Lysias; War

“Perhaps now,” said Drusus Rencius, “you have a better idea of the nature of the

pens.”

I could not even answer him, accompanying him back through the alleys to the inn

of Lysias. I feared that my bead might begin to swirl, that I might lose

consciousness. I was scarcely aware of my surroundings, of where I was or what I

was doing, or even of my feet touching the ground. I felt ligbt-headed. I was

trembling. I was filled with wild, turbulent emotions I would never have

believed that women could be subjected to such domination. I hoped that Drusus

Rencius could not smell my arousal.

“Leading position,” said Drusus Rencius.

I put my head down to his waist and he fastened his left hand in my hair.

“Tal, Citizen,” said Drusus Rencius to the fellow passing us in the Hall. He

soon released my hair and I again straightened up. I was following him,

generally, a little behind and on his left. It seemed appropriate that I, in my

disguise, might seem to heel him, as though I might be a mere slave. It seemed

to me that he had held my hair more tightly than be had needed to, when we had

passed the stranger. I still wore the slave bracelets. He had declined to remove

them when we had left the house of Kliomenes. In his steel, heeling him,

occasionally being put into leading position by him, I felt much in his power.

“Did you enjoy the pens?” asked Drusus.

“Please do not make me speak,” I whimpered. I was terribly conscious of the heat

in my body, and the absence of a nether closure in my garment. Had Drusus

Rencius so much as snapped his fingers I think I might have thrown myself to my

back in the alley, begging for his touch.

“This is the house of Kliomenes,” had said Drusus Rencius, climbing the stairs

to the narrow, heavy iron portal, recessed some feet back, at the end of a

narrow tunnel, in the wall. It was on the street of Milo. Above the entrance to

the tunnel, and on its right, in the wall, hanging from an iron projection, was

a narrow, blue-and-yellow banner. I followed Drusus Rencius carefully, that I

might not fall. ‘This is one of the better, and more respectable of the slave

houses in Corcyrus,” he said. “That is one of the reasons that I have selected

it for your visit, that your sensibilities, those of a free woman, not be

excessively offended.”

“I see,” I said.

“On the other hand, do not expect it to compromise overly much with its women.

Such would be a violation of the ethics of the slavers. Its women, you will

find, all things considered, are held rather close to the standards of slave

perfection.”

“I see,” I said.

He beckoned and I joined him in the narrow tunnel leading to the door. I

regarded the iron door, apprehensively.

“There are truly slaves in there?” I asked.

“Of course,” he said. “If you enter, you will be, probably, the only free woman

in the house, unless there is a new girl in there, in chains, awaiting, say, the

iron and the collar.”

“Oh,” I said.

“Do you wish to enter?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“You are a woman, and it is the house of a slaver,” he said.

“I will enter,” I said.

He then struck on the iron door. He then thrust me in front of him, so that I,

in the tunnel, was between him and the door.

There was a small, rectangular, ‘iron observation panel, now shut, in the door.

I felt the stone of the tunnel beneath my feet, the steel holding my wrists

helplessly behind me.

The observation panel slid back. I saw eyes looking at me, and then, beyond me,

at Drusus Rencius.

The panel slid shut with a click.

I wanted to turn and run. I could not do so, of course, because of the walls of

the tunnel, and Drusus Rencius behind me.

“They are expecting us,” said Drusus Rencius, sensing my sudden terror.

I heard chains and bars behind the door, bolts being freed.

Then the door swung open. “Enter,” said a pleasant enough looking young man in

the threshold. I entered, followed by Drusus. Beside the young man there was a

guard, too, within. I heard the door, with its various devices, being refastened

behind me. We were in a tiny torchlit room. Only a few feet before us was

another door, also iron, similar to the outside door.

“Bracelet check,” said the young man to me, pleasantly.

“Turn your back to him, and lift your wrists,” said Drusus Rencius.

I did this and the young man quickly, expertly, checked the bracelets. They were

locked on me. I was helpless.

I then turned again, to face the interior door.

I cried out, startled.

The guard, crouching beside me, had taken my left ankle in his left hand and run

his right hand beneath my foot.

“No,” said Drusus Rencius, deterring the guard, “there is nothing taped to her

instep, nor is there anything else of the sort for which you might be searching

concealed about or in her body or hair. She is to be exempted from slave

search.” I then realized, shuddering, just how thorough slave search might be.

The guard looked at the young man, who nodded. The guard then stood up.

The young. man then tapped a complex signal on the inner iron door. In a moment

I heard it being freed of its fastenings. It then swung open and we, the young

man, Drusus Rencius and myself, were admitted to the corridor beyond.

The guard there refastened the door and then took his place on a stool behind a

small table.

“We need a pass and a license,” said the young man to the guard.

I looked at Drusus Rencius.

“The license is only a formality,” he said. “No free woman, unless a capture,

may proceed beyond this point unless she is in the charge of a free man who is

responsible for her and has a current license for her. This is a device to

control the movements of free women in the house and a precaution against the

attempted escape of slave girls pretending to be free women.”

“Here is your pass,” said the young man, handing a small disk to Drusus Rencius.

It was not unlike one of the ostraka used as tickets or tokens for admission at

the theater or other such events. The guard, meanwhile, was writing something

down on a small, rectangular form. I had little doubt what it “And here,” said

the young man, taking the form from s, the guard and handing it to Drusus

Rencius. confirming my speculations, “is your license for the female.” I was a

woman.

Accordingly, I had to be licensed in the house of Kliomenes.

How humiliatingl The Goreans have a saying, “There are only two kinds of women,

slaves, and slaves.” I pulled at my wrists. They were well held in the

bracelets.

“Is she really free?” asked the young man.

“Yes,” said Drusus Rencius, putting the pass and license in his pouch.

“Interesting,” said the young man.

“Do you find it surprising?” asked Drusus Rencius.

“Yes,” said the young man.

The guard then stood up and came about the table. I backed away a foot or tHe

crouched down near me, and then stood up, regarding

I blushed, helpless.

“Such curves,” he said, “should not be wasted on a free woman.”

“I do not think Publius will believe she is free,” laughed the young man.

I looked at Drusus Rencius.

“Publius,” said Drusus Rencius, “is the house master. I know him from Ar.”

“He would like to see you, after your tour,” said the young man, “to drink a cup

of paga.”

“I shall be delighted,” said Drusus Rencius. He did not ask me for my permission

to do this, I noted.

“She is truly free?” asked the guard.

“Yes,” averred Drusus Rencius.

“It is a shame,” said the guard. “Curves like that should be up for sale.”

“From what I have heard of her,” said Drusus Rencius, smiling, “she is the sort

of a woman who has her price.” I wondered what lie meant by that.

“Hermidorus will accompany you in the house,” said the young man, “if we can

tear him away from his scrolls.”

He understands, does he not,” asked Drusus Rencius, “that the woman is free and,

accordingly, certain things are not to be seen.”

“Of course,” smiled the young man. “Hermidorust” he called, loudly.

Swiftly I put down my head again and winced as Drusus fastened his hand in my

hair.

Thus again was I led past a stranger in the alleys. As we passed the stranger,

be approaching us, be was on our right.

Goreans commonly pass in this fashion, the sword arms of right-handed

individuals being thus on the side of the approaching stranger.

I saw some girls rummaging through a garbage can. They wore short tunics but

they were not slaves. Goreans sometimes refer to such women as “strays.” They

are civic nuisances. They are occasionally rounded up, guardsmen appearing at

opposite ends of an alley, trapping them, and collared.

“Buy me, Master,” begged the girl, kneeling before Drusus Rencius. “I will give

you much pleasure.”

“Next!” barked the trainer, in the house of Kliomenesy

The next girl hurried forward and knelt before Drusus Rencius, kissing his feet,