Kajira of Gor (46 page)

triggered. I bit at the covers. I saw that he intended that I would yield to him

as a sobbing, pleading, subdued slave. In this I saw that I was to be given no

choice.

“You are very lovely, Lady Sheila,” he said.

“Thank you, Master,” I said.

“And you have the reflexes of a female slave,” he said. “Yes, Master,” I said.

“Thank you, Master.”

I did not think it would be long now. I suddenly jerked back my body from ‘his

touch.

He had made it so sensitive. He did not cuff me, nor chide me, but, too, he did

not give me quarter. He continued, not hurrying, patiently, relentlessly, with

the process of reducing me to a man-dominated, orgasmic, conquered female slave.

He now held me, his left hand at the small of my back, in place.

I gritted my teeth. What men can do to us, I thought, angrily. Then I wanted

only to feel, beggingly, piteously.

Then again, desperately, I strove to resist. The high, black, leather collar cut

at the bottom of my chin.

I could feel the tiles beneath the covers. I had not been granted the dignity of

the couch’s surface I would be had at its foot, by the slave ring.

I squirmed. I looked at the slave ring. The leash on my. neck ran to it, and was

tied to it.

I was leashed!

I felt his hands.

I must resist! I must resist!

“Oh, please, Master,” I wept, “let me yield to you as a conquered slave!”

“I beg to yield to you!” I wept.

“In time,” he said. “In time.”

The beast! The beast! I would show him! I would resist him! I would refuse to

feel! I would not let him do this to me!

“Please have pity on me, Master!” I cried. “I acknowledge that I have been

conquered. I am vanquished! I am now yours, and as you want me, as a slave,

fully! I beg now only to be permitted to yield to you abjectly and shamelessly.

Let me tender to you now the helpless surrender of an orgasmic slave!”

Who was it who cried out so shamelessly, so helplessly and brazenly for a

master’s mercy? And I realized that she who cried out was I.

“Please, Master”’ I whimpered, sobbing, surrendered wholly then one with myself,

and. wholly at his mercy “Please, Master. Please!”

“Does Lady Sheila, the lofty and proud Tatrix of Corcyrus desire to yield to me

as a slave?” he asked.

“Yes, Master,” I moaned. “I beg it! I beg it!”

He then entered me suddenly and fiercely.

I clutched him.

“Please!” I whispered.

“Not yet,” he said.

After a few minutes I again begged for his permission to yield. “Not yet,” he

said. I moaned. He, by varying hi rhythms and movements, brought me again and

again to the point of yielding, and then stopped short, letting me go back a

greater or lesser distance, and then bringing me forward, one speed or another,

again. In this he not only showed h power over me but took much pleasure from

me.

“It is pleasant to enjoy the Tatrix of Corcyrus,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I sobbed, bitterly.

Yet I could not deny that he was forcing me, too, to experience much pleasure,

its nature and amount depended completely on his will.

A quarter of an Ahn must have passed.

Then again, for I do not know what time, he brought if to a point of almost

unbearable tension.

“You may now yield, Lady Sheila,” he said, “as you have begged, as a slave.”

“Thank you, Master!” I cried, and threw my head back elation and gratitude, and

freed myself of feeling, and, as He mastered me, cried out my slave’s submission

to him.

Afterwards he stood up and looked down, regarding me “It is pleasant to have had

the Tatrix of Corcyrus,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I said. I lay, had, at his feet.

He then crouched down, next to me, and rolled me ton stomach. He then jerked my

hands behind my back and casually braceleted me. “You will spend the night

braceleted,” He Informed me. “Yes, Master,” I said. He then shackled my left

ankle and chained me, by means of it, to the slave ring at the foot of his

couch. He then unlocked the leash collar and freed me of it and the leash. These

articles, with the key, he then replaced in one of the chests at the side of the

room. He then took most of the covers and threw them back on the couch. He did,

leave me a sheet on the tiles. I lay on half of it. The other half, folded, he

threw over me. He then retired.

Toward morning, in the early hours, he summoned me to his bed and again made use

of me. I knelt beside the bed, kissed the covers and crawled into it. He knelt

me and turned me about, and pushed my head down. He was quick with me. He was

half asleep. I suppose I should have been grateful that I was permitted the

honor of the couch. I do not think he, half asleep, wished to’ leave it. He did

not bother unbraceleting me. Then, with his foot, when lie was finished, he

thrust me from the couch. At the foot of the couch, on the tiles, with my teeth;

I readjusted the sheet about me, as I could. I then lay there, wide-eyed, for a

time, not sleeping.

How far I was from my small apartment, from the perfume counter in the

department store on Long Island. That mercenary little chit was now, on this

natural world, a braceleted slave at the foot of a man’s couch. No longer, now,

was she, in the prerogatives of freedom, permitted to give men nothing, or

frustration now she must serve them with perfection and provide them, to the

best of her ability, at their merest whim, with fantastic pleasures. At least

now, I thought, I am good for something.

How casually Miles of Argentum had just used me! But I did not object, for I was

a slave. This form of casual, use, this off-handed employment of us, while

perhaps inappropriate for a free woman, was acceptable for a slave. We did not

have to be the subject of elaborate and tiresome preparations and pretenses, of

complex rituals of attention and respect. We could, at times, be mere

conveniences to the master, and, in this, too, we find something honest,

natural, straightforward and lovely. There are times when the master simply

wants us, and now. At such times, too, as we are slaves, it pleases us to serve.

To be sure, the use to which Miles of Argentum had just subjected me, and I was

well aware of this, had not been merely casual, a simple convenience use. It

had, too, been a spurning use. Though he had not spoken to me, save to summon me

imperiously to him, I had little doubt that he was still thinking of me in terms

of Sheila, the Tatrix of Corcyrus. What a rich joke on the proud Tatrix! What a

splendid lesson for the captured sovereign, to be subjected to a mere

convenience use in the early morning, and then to be spurned to her place at a

slave ring. But even so I did not object. Something in the woman of me responded

to the masterful authority in this treatment. It made clear to me, once again,

the delicious, terrible domination to which I was subject on Gor. I wanted men

to be my superiors and masters, as they were on Gor. I wanted to be owned by

them, as I was on Gor. I wanted to love them, and obey them, as I had to,

without choice, on Gor.

I thought of Miles of Argentum.

How skillful he was at teaching a woman her slavery. How well he had put me

through my paces on the leash, and then later in his arms. And, but moments ago,

he had simply ordered me to him and had then, wordlessly, before taking me,

positioned me precisely as he wanted me, my head even down.

I considered my compliance with his wishes and desires. I had obeyed him

perfectly. I would not have dared to do otherwise, of course. He was not a man

of Earth, or a typical man of Earth. He was a Gorean male.

I twisted a bit on the tiles, carefully, so as not to dislodge the sheet. I

moved my wrists a little, they locked helplessly behind my back in their slave

bracelets.

How men do with us as they please, I thought. How they master us!

I pulled for a moment, angrily, futilely, irrationally, against the slave

bracelets, but I could not, of course, free myself.

What a glorious world this is for men, I thought, that here women such as I must

serve and please them!

But then I squirmed with pleasure and joy.

And what a glorious world for women, I thought, that here we must so serve and

please!

I felt then the raptures of my bondage, from the tranquilities of selfless

service to the ecstasy of a slave’s sexual surrender to the dominant male, the

master. How perfect I was for bondage; how perfect bondage was for me. I had

been designed by nature for bondage. This was clear in my body, and in my nature

and dispositions. I rejoiced that I had been brought to a world in which I was

free to fulfill, and, in certain circumstances, would have no choice but to

fulfill, this implicit destiny. Here, on Gor, there were none of the confusions,

the denials, the lies and ambiguities of Earth; here there was clarity,

structure and truth. Here civilization did not war with nature; here slaves were

slaves, and masters masters. Here I would be what I was, and without compromise,

a slave. I did not object. Rather was I thrilled with this, as Iliad now

learned, my natural fulfillment.

I was frightened of Miles of Argentum.

He seemed to think of me not as the helpless and lowly slave I was, a mere girl

rented .for his pleasure for an evening, but as though I were a high lady and

free captive, Sheila, the Tatrix of Corcyrus, who was then, perhaps in his

vengeance on her for her escape from his camp, to be humiliated and humbled, and

forced even, in her now unbreakable captivity to perform and serve as a slave.

Certainly he had taken much pleasure with me.

But he must know that the true Sheila had fallen to Has-san, the Slave Hunter.

Only recently he had brought her to Argentum in a golden sack. Even now, for his

amusement, he kept her for several Ahn a day in that sack, suspended, tied shut

in the throne room, while business was conducted. The sack was to be opened, and

she was to be presented to Claudius Ubar of Argentum, and the high council, and

high citizen celebr of Argentum, at the climax of a great feast, to be ated two

days from now.

So what interest had Miles of Argentum in me?

Surely he did not think that I might be the real Sheila.

In his treatment of me, and in calling me Sheila, and so on, surely he had been

only playing a game with me.

He could not remember me that clearly, I hoped, from his appearance before me in

the great hall, when I had sat upon the throne, for from the time when he had

had me locked, naked, a captive, in a golden cage.

No He was only playing with me.

I was merely Tiffany, a feast slave, brought to Argentum with others to serve at

the victory feast.

It was not my fault if I bore some remote resemblance to Sheila the Tatrix of

Corcyrus.

I reminded myself that Miles of Argentum did not own me

I reminded myself that he had only rented me for an eve-fling, for a night, as

men may rent women such as I.

Alin, in the morning, I would be returned to my keepers. I would then forget

about me. In a matter of days, probably some three or four days, I would be on

my way back with the others.

I had nothing to fear.

He did not own me. That was what was most important He could not even harm me,

at least seriously, or permanently, without paying some form of restitution to

the Enterprises of Aemilianus. I was, after all, their girl proper not his.

I then, toward morning, fell asleep.

I awakened rather late. It must have been around the eighth Ahn. The room was

flooded with light.

There had been a knock at the door. lt must have been girl keeper coming for me,

I thought. I struggled to my knees. is in such a position that a slave girl

commonly greets a ft man. I did not wish to be kicked or cuffed for discourse

braceleted as I was, I could not keep the sheet on me. It fell across my thighs.

But it was someone else, I saw. Miles Argentum, dressed and shaved, answered the

door.

“She will be with you shortly,” he said. I did not understand that remark. He

then closed the door. I gathered the man might be waiting outside. I did not

recognize him.

“I see that you are up, Lady Sheila,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I said.

“It is just as well,” he said. “It is now past the eigth Ahn.

I did not understand, at that time, the reference to the eighth Ahn. Was that

supposed to have some significance me?

I was then startled. I felt Miles of Argentum, from the back, pressing a tiny

key into my collar.

“Master!” I cried.

He then, to my astonishment, opened the collar and I moved iL

“Master,” I said, “what are you doing? How can you this? Where did you get the

key?”

“In Ar,” he said, “several days ago, the first day after saw you in the city. I

paid for you then, but the transfer ownership, as specified in the contract, as

I wished, did not become effective until this morning, at the eighth Aim. A few

Ehn ago, unknown to you, you became mine.

“Surely you jest, Master,” I wept. “Feast Slaves would not wish to sell me in

this fashion. I am needed. There is no replacement here for me. There is no girl