Kajira of Gor (22 page)

As we approached, she oriented herself towards us, palms of her hands on the

floor, and put her head to the tiles. But, as we neared her, she lifted her

head, desperately.

“Hermidorus!” she cried, suddenly. “Hermidorus!”

He stopped before her, a few feet from her, and we stopped, too, behind him.

“Do you not know me?” she begged. The chain she wore was a work sirik. It

resembles the common sink but the wrists, to permit work, are granted about a

yard of chain.

Like the common sirik, it is a lovely chain. Women are beautiful in it.

“Deirdre!” she cried. “Deirdre! Two years ago ill Ar we lived in the same

building!”

He looked at her, not speaking.

“Deirdre,” she whimpered.

“In the instant you were imbonded, you ceased to be Girl,’ be said.

“Girl?” she said.

“what is your house name?” be asked.

“Oh, no,” she said. “Not you! Not you, of all people! You not see me as a slave!

You could not see me as a slave! I you. That would be impossible! You could not

relate to as though I might be a slave! You could not! One such as would never

enforce my slavery upon me! One such as you could never do so!” Then she looked

up at him, her lower lip trembling. “’Renata’ is my house name,” she said.

He then removed the belt from his tunic. The accouterments on it he handed to

Drusus Rencius.

“You lifted your head from the tile position before free persons had passed you,

Renata,” he said. “You also addressed a free man twice by his name. Similarly

your speech has been inadequately deferential. It has not been interspersed at

appropriate points, for example, by the expression ‘Master.’ You have also

referred to yourself as though you might still be ~Deirdre.’ Such falsifications

of identity are not permitted to slaves. Deirdre is gone. In her place there is

now only a slave, an animal, who must wear whatever name masters choose to put

on her. Similarly, when asked a question, that pertaining to your house name,

you did not respond with sufficient promptness. Do you understand all that I am

saying, fully and clearly, Renata?”

She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. “Yes, Master!” she said.

“On all fours, Renata,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” she sobbed, assuming this position.

“Perhaps you should precede us a few paces down the hall,” said Drusus Rencius

to me.

I moved, frightened, a few feet down the hall, not looking. Then, suddenly, I

heard the belt beginning to fall, sharply, on the girl. I turned in time to see

her on her side, in her chains, receiving the last few blows. She had not been

pleasing. She was a slave. Of course she was being punished.

Then Hermidorus, without further ado, took back his accouterments from Drusus

and slipped them on his belt. He then fastened the belt again about his waist.

I was startled that one such as he, seemingly so scholarly and gentle, possessed

such uncompromising strength. The female had learned, to her sorrow, that in his

presence she would not be permitted the least slackness in her discipline.

“I am sorry for the interruption,” Hermidorus apologized to Drusus Rencius.

“That is perfectly all right,” said Drusus.

The girl lay on her stomach, in her chains, in the water on the tiles. She

lifted her head, gazing in pain, disbelief and awe at Hermidorus. She was a

slave who had not been pleasing. She had been put under his belt.

We then continued down the hallway.

“Master,” she called out, “I want to lay for you! I want to lay for you! Please

have me sent to your rooms! I want to lay for you!”

Hermidorus did not look back.

I looked back. I saw in the girl’s eyes that she now knew she was a slave, and

helplessly so, and that she loved him.

We continued on our way.

I wondered if he would have her sent to his rooms. The decision’ was his. She

was a slave.

“As the house opens to the public at the tenth Ahn,” said Hermidorus, “perhaps I

should now take you to the office of Publius, who wished to greet. you before

you left the premises.” The tenth Ahn is the Gorean noon.

“Splendid,” said Drusus Rencius.

We were then making our way upward from some of the lower pen areas.

I had not realized the complexities of a slaver’s house, and this house was not

an unusually large one. We had seen the baths and the sales yard, which is also

used for exercise; we had seen various holding areas, ranging from silken,

barred alcoves for superb pleasure slaves, through cells and cages of various

sorts more fit for medium-priced women, to incarceration chambers that were

little more than grated pits or gloomy dungeons, areas in which a slave might be

terrorized to find herself placed; other holding areas, ranging from good to

bad, were no more than a ring position, in a wall or on a floor; we also saw

kitchens, pantries, eating areas, some with mere troughs or depressions in the

floor, storage areas, guard rooms, offices, and places for the keeping of

records; there were also a laundry and an infirmary; too, there were rooms where

such subjects as the care and dressing of hair, the application of cosmetics,

the selection and use of perfumes, manicure and pedicure, and slave costuming

were taught, and even rooms where inept women, usually former members of the

upper castes, could be instructed in the small domestic tasks that would now be

expected of them, small services suitable for slaves, such as cleaning, cooking

and sewing. Certain areas of the house, however, I was not shown, presumably

because I was a free woman, such as the lowest pens, the branding chamber, the

discipline room, and the rooms where girls were taught to kiss and caress, and

the movements of love.

“I will be good! I will be good!” I heard a girl cry, from within a low, steel,

rectangular box, shoved against the side of the passage, presumably that it

would not be in the way. I stopped, startled. It had not occurred to me that a

girl could be held within those small confines. Indeed, in the half-darkness of

the lamp lit passage I had hardly noticed the box

It was about four feet long and three feet wide, with a depth of perhaps

eighteen inches. It was of steel and opened from the top. In the lid, at each

end, there was a circle, about five inches in diameter, of penny-sized holes. It

was locked shut, secured by two flat, steel bars, perpendicular to its long

axis, padlocked, in front, in place. “I will be good!” wept the girl, from

within.

“It is a slave box,” said Hermidorus.

“I beg to be pleasing, Masters!” cried the girl, from within.

“Surely she must be a very tiny woman,” I said, horrified, to Drusus Rencius.

“She is the former Lady Tais of Farnacium,” said Hermidorus. “Her house name is

Didi. She is, as I recall, a normal-sized slave.”

‘The box is so small,” I said.

“It is supposed to be small,” said Drusus Rencius.

“But consider the cramping, the tightness, the girl’s helplessness,” I said.

“Those are among its purposes,” he said.

“But it is so small!” I protested.

“It is not really so small,” he said.

I looked at him.

“It would be, for example,” he said, “more than large enough for you.”

“I will obey lovingly and with total perfection, Masters,” averred the woman

from within the box. “I beg only to be permitted to be fully and totally

pleasing to my Masters!”

“Come along,” said Hermidorus.

We then, once again, followed him.

“I beg to be pleasing!” cried the woman from within the box. “I beg to be

permitted to be totally pleasing!”

“She is almost ready to leave the box,” said Hermidorus

“Let me see the license on her,” said Publius. “I see,” he smiled, surveying the

scrap of paper given to him by Drusus Renelus, “the’ Lady Lita.” He looked at

me. “A pretty’ name,” he said.

I thought so, too.

He smiled at me, as though amused by the name. I did not understand this.

“It is not her true name, of course,” said Publius to Drusus Rencius.

“Of course not,” said Drusus Rencius.

“Doubtless, in the circles in which you travel, Lady Lita,” said Publius to me,

“it would not do for your friends to know how you were brought half naked and

braceleted into a slaver’s house.”

I looked away from him. I did not deign to respond to such a remark.

“It would be quite a scandal doubtless,” he said, “and make a quite good story

in the telling.”

I looked away, loftily, still braceleted.

“Here, Lady Lita,” he said, “let us stand you in the light, where we can get a

better look at you.” He conducted me to a pool of light, at the foot of a shaft

of light, falling from a high, barred window.

I stood there, and the men stood back, looking at me.

“She is very pretty,” said Publius. “’Lita’ would be a good name for her.”

“I think so,” said Drusus Rencius.

I stood there, being inspected. I had been afraid that Publius, when he bad been

conducting me to the pool of light, and placed me here, might have touched me. I

could not have prevented it, in such a brief garment, with no nether closure, my

hands braceleted helplessly behind my back, but he had not done so. Had he done

so, of course, my condition of arousal would have been made humiliatingly and

embarrassingly evident to him. I hoped that my need was not somehow evident,

subtly so, in my appearance and behavior, Perhaps through body cues. I hoped,

too, they could not smell

“Kneel down here, Lady Lita, in the light,” said Publius.

I knelt down, in the pool of light. I kept my knees closely together. I was

confused, and frightened. I was kneeling before men.

“Are you sure she is free?” asked Publius.

“Yes,” said Drusus Rencius.

“Interesting,” said Publius. He then walked slowly about me, looking at me, and,

then, again, stood a few feet before me, looking down at me.

“Look at her,” he said.

“Yes?” said Drusus.

“Closely,” said Publius.

“Yes?” inquired Drusus.

“Do you not see?’” asked Publius.

“What?” asked Drusus.

“She has the softness, the femininity, the look of a slave about her,” he said.

“I assure you,” smiled Drusus, “she’ is far from a slave.”

“I do not think so,” said Publius. “I think she is a natural slave, and would

train superbly to the collar.”

Drusus threw back his head and laughed at the absurdity of this thought. I

myself did not find it so amusing.

“Does anyone know she is here?” asked Publius.

“No,” said Drusus.

“Why do we not then enslave her?” asked Publius. “No, Lady Lita,” he said, “do

not rise to your feet.” I had almost leapt up. My wrists wildly, suddenly, had

jerked against the bracelets. They had not yielded, of course. They were not

made to yield. I knelt back then, in the light, on my heels.

“It would not be difficult,” said, Publius. “We could transport her from the

city. Then, elsewhere, when she is suitably branded, and her neck is locked in a

proper collar, when she’ is fully and inescapably a slave, absolutely rightness,

and in your power, we might make test of the matter.”

“This woman is not a slave,” said Drusus Rencius.

“A silver tarsk says she is,” laughed Publius.

“How are things in Ar?” asked Drusus Rencius. “I have I not been there for a

long time.”

“I will get the paga,” said Publius. The men then drank, and spoke of small

things while I knelt in the light, braceleted, and was seldom, I think in their

mind or attention. Once I noticed that my knees had opened somewhat, without my

really thinking about it. I quickly closed them. I hoped no one had noticed. I

wondered if I was a slave. Publius thought so, and he was a slaver. He had been

willing to put a silver tarsk on the matter. I looked at Drusus. Something in me

seemed to say, “You lose your tarsk, Drusus Rencius. She is a slave.”

Then I hastily thrust such a horrifying thought from my mind.

“Please, Drusus,” I had said. “My hands have been braceleted long enough. I am

beginning to feel too helpless, too much like a slave. Please release me.”

“I will release you in the room,” he had said.

I had then continued to follow him, still braceleted, through the alleys, toward

the inn of Lysias.

Why did lie not release me now? Why did be still keep mc braceleted, like a

slave? Could he not see that I was almost overcome with emotion? Could he not

see my misery, my distress? Could be not see how overwrought I was? Could he not

see the difficulty I was having, fighting myself?

We were approaching closer and closer to the inn of Lysias. This excited and

thrilled me, but, too, it frightened and terrified me. There I would be alone

with Drusus Rencius, a Gorean male, in the room. What would I do? How would I

act?

I moaned to myself.

I wished to run to the room, and I wished to hang back, almost as though against

a leash.

Emotions raged within me, furies and resentments lingering ro~ my Earth

conditionings, residues of masculine values which I had been encouraged to

espouse and exemplify, and, leased on Gor, welling up from deeply within me,

from what sources I could scarcely dare conjecture, alarming me, concerting me,