Kajira of Gor (60 page)

Thus, it was important, though it tortured me to do so under the circumstances,

to accord you respect and dignity.”

“Rather would you have accorded me force and mastery,” I smiled.

“Yes,” he said. “Too, do not forget that on a certain level, or in a certain

part of me, I recognized that you were, rather clearly, a slave. How then could

I admit to myself that I, a warrior of Ar, might have certain feelings toward

one such as you, only a slave? Too, that I discerned your pettiness, your

cruelty and shallowness, dissuaded me from honestly admitting my feelings to

myself. I did not wish to regard myself as a fooL Further, of course, you,

seemingly so haughty and mighty a Tatrix, treated me with injustice and scorn.

It is little wonder I dreamed of you in my collar, in my chains, wider my whip~”

“Does it still distress you that I am a slave?” I asked.

“No,” he said.

“Even a natural slave?” I asked.

“No,” he said.

“You lost a silver tarsk to Publius on the matter,” I reminded him.

“It was a bet which, in my heart, I hoped to lose,” he said.

I licked at his knee, slowly, lovingly. Then I looked up at him.

He put down the goblet on the tiles, to the right of the chair.

He took my head between his hands, those large, strong hands.

“You are a superb natural slave,” he said.

“Forgive me, Master,” I said.

“I do not object,” he said.

“Good,” I said.

“In fact, it pleases me,” he said.

“Good,” I whispered.

He held my head between his hands, like it was that of a dog.

“Do some men care for their slaves,” I asked, “just a little?”

“Some men care for them much more than a little,” he said.

“Even natural slaves?” I asked.

“Those are the best sort,” he said.

“I am glad to hear it,” I said.

“In every woman,” he said, “if one can but find it, I believe there is a natural

slave.”

“I believe it is true, Master,” I said.

Then I felt myself drawn to his lips, and I was drawn half into the chair, and

then he, holding my head, not releasing it, turned, and I felt myself moved

backwards and to the side, to f my knees, before the chair, and then he was

crouching before me, and then I felt myself being lowered backwards to the

floor. “I love you,” I whispered. “I love you, my masteri”

“Do I make you weak?” I asked. I lay now on love furs, at the foot of his couch.

He had put a chain on my neck.

“No,” he said.

I leaned over, and kissed him, delicately, intimately.

“Aiii!” he said.

“I see that my master speaks the truth,” I said.

“She-sleen!” he said, and then, with a rattle of chain, threw me again beneath

him.

“I would be a hundred slaves to you,” I whispered, “a thousand!”

“You are,” he whispered. “You are.”

“Doubtless master is tired now,” I said, “and should rest. I will stop.”

“Not yet! Not yet!” he said.

“Very well,” I said.

“Insatiable slut!” he growled. “Do you think I am made of iron?”

“It seemed so,” I said.

“Desist,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I laughed. It was hard for me to keep my hands off Dnisus

Rencius. He was so beautiful. I snuggled down beside him, my head at his hip. I

kissed his hip. Then I lay there, quietly, beside him. “I am not disturbing you

now, am I?” I asked.

“No,” he said.

“Would you like to rest now?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. His hand was in my hair.

“Would you like me to relax you?” I asked.

“Very well,” he said.

I crawled to my knees.

In a few moments, he said, “Is that your idea, as how to relax a man?”

I laughed, and continued my work, lovingly.

“Obviously you have been trained,” he said.

“I am not one of those women who thinks her part in making love is finished when

she lies, down,” I said.

“That is clear,” he said. The slave, of course, is not permitted the ignorance,

inertness and mediocrity of the free woman. She must serve marvelously and

totally. Nothing less is permitted her.

“I am a woman of many talents,” I assured him.

“Doubtless,” he said, half moaning.

“I have attended school,” I informed him. “And I am a skilled feast slave. I am

also skilled at weaving on a mill loom.”

“Marvelous,” he gasped.

“Shall I stop now?” I asked.

“Continue,” he said.

“But I thought you wished to rest?” I said.

He looked at me, menacingly.

“I shall continue,” I said. “I would certainly not wish for a command to have to

be repeated. That would be a reflection on my discipline. Too, I have no wish to

be beaten twice in one day.”

“I wonder who is the master and who is the slave,” he said.

“You are the master, and I am the slave,” I said. “I am clear on that.”

“Would you care to mount me?” he asked.

Eagerly I did so.

“Are you now Mistress?” he asked.

“Whatever Master wishes,” I laughed. I sensed, suddenly, what might be the

sensations of power and pleasure a woman might experience, putting a male to her

use, before she was restored to the order of nature, and her servitude. “Would

you truly permit me this?” I asked.

“Of course,” he said, “but, later, we will do it somewhat differently.”

“Yes, Master,” I said, puzzled.

Then, to my amazement and delight, grinding and tensing, I watching him closely,

I transformed him into a squirming slave beneath me, and then, when it pleased

me, took his yielding from him.

Later in the afternoon, when we had rested, and he had had food brought in, and

we had eaten, he put me again in such a place, but this time I must face his

feet and my hands were held behind me. In such a way, sometimes, a captured free

woman, stripped, is placed backwards on a kaijia, her hands bound behind her.

This is usually done only when she is being led to slavery. In such a way, then,

he used me. My slavery was again well impressed upon me. This type of position,

it might be mentioned, is also used by Gorean masters with the woman facing

forward, when he can see her face, but with her hands tied, say, before her or

behind her, or at her collar, bound either with actual thongs or, most cruelly,

“by his will,” that form of “tie” in which a woman must keep her hands in a

given position, for example, holding them as if bound, or, say, keeping them on

her hips or clasped behind the back of her neck. If she breaks such a position,

of course, she is subject. to terrible discipline. She must then, as he lies

slothful’ and’ recumbent beneath her, at his ease, observing her, perhaps

amused, writhe upon command and thus serve, and eventually cap, his volcano.

Later he taught me this sort of thing first-hand. He used the’ collar tie and,

mercifully with real thongs’ when he was finished I had not only learned again

that I Was a slave but that this general sort of position, even with the female

facing forward, has no intrinsic connection with female dominance. He had let me

experience it in that fashion to see what it was like. He had then returned me

to total bondage.

“Master,” I said.

“Yes,” he said.

“I have been doing a great deal of thinking,” I said.

“Is that what you have been doing?” he asked.

“I mean, in the last few Ehn,” I said.

“Yes?” he said.

“I have learned my collar,” I said.

“Good,” he said.

“You have taught it to me well,” I said.

He shrugged. The Goreans have a theory that any man can teach a woman her

collar, and perfectly.

“But was it necessary,” I asked, “that you used me as you did earlier, after you

had whipped me?”

“How was that?” he asked.

“Master!” I protested. Then I saw that he wished to make me speak. “when you

made me kneel, with my head down,” I said, embarrassed.

“No,” he said. “It was not necessary.”

“Then why did you do it?” I asked.

“It amused me,” he said.

“Surely there was more to it than, that,” I said.

“Yes,” he said, “it is a useful way to show a woman, one who may be proud, or

not clear on the matter, that she is a slave.”

“I see,” I said. “I find it difficult to forget the experience.”

“Oh?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“Doubtless you were appropriately degraded and shamed,” he said.

“No,” I said. “To be sure,” I said, “it was instructive, but, as I recall it

now, I found it very loving and exciting.”

“You liked it?” he asked.

“Doubtless it brought my slavery home to me,” I said, carefully.

“I would think so,” he said. “It would doubtless be difficult to continue to

think of oneself as a free woman after having been used in that fashion.”

“I liked it,” I said, suddenly.

“That is interesting,” he said. The beast! He knew I had almost screamed with

submission and pleasure!

“Are slaves often used in such a fashion?” I asked, as though unconcerned.

“Sometimes,” he said.

“Might I ever again be put under such a discipline?” I asked.

“Perhaps,” he said. I looked at him.

“Perhaps if you beg prettily enough,” he said.

“I will,” I smiled. “I will!”

“Do you recall the position?” he asked. “Yes,” I said.

“Speak,” he said.

“The girl kneels, with her head down, her hands clasped behind her neck,” I

said.

“You recall the position perfectly,” he admitted.

“Yes,” I said.

“Assume it,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I said, joyfully.

“Thank you, Master,” I said, softly; lying in his arms, thanking him for his

touch. It is now evening. Again he had gone to the door and summoned a slave.

Again we had had food brought in and had, again, eaten.

“Ohhhh,” I said softly. “Thank you. Thank you, Master. You are my master. You

are my Master! Thank you. Thank you, my master.”

Then, later, he held me closely.

“Master,” I said.

“Yes?” he said.

“I have often wondered what was the meaning of a golden cage, and why I, when

thought a Tatrix, was placed in one.”

“The gold,” said he, “is a precious metal, is thought perhaps fitting for a free

woman, in particular for one of high station, and certainly for a Tatrix. That

it is a cage, on the other hand, signifies that she is taken to be, in

actuality, no better than a slave, and only fit to be a slave. To place her in

such a cage is then to make a clear statement as to her true and rightful

nature.”

“I see,” I said. “And doubtless the goldensack is of similar import.”

“Yes,” He said.

“Yet Hassan enslaved Sheila before placing her in such a sack.”

“True,” he said, “and that she as a mere slave was yet placed in such a sack

must have induced exquisite emotions m her, emotions of fear, of outrage and

humiliation.”

“Doubtless,” I said.

“It was a. joke on the part of Hassan,” he said, “an exquisite one.”

“Doubtless,” I said.

“But doubtless, too,” he said, “it served a useful purpose in her on-going

training.”

“Doubtless,” I said.

“But doubtless, too,” he laughed, “it seemed an appropriate modality, did it

not, in which to transport a former Tatrix to Argentum?”

“Yes,” I said. I shuddered.

“But I think you need not fear confinement now in golden cages or golden sacks,”

he said.

“Cages formed of simple, sturdy bars of black iron and deep, doubly-sewn sacks

of heavy, plain leather, black and thick, tied or locked shut, will now serve

well enough for you, confinements suitable to the more common slave you now

are.”

“Yes, Master,” I laughed. Such devices would suffice quite well, surely, for a

common girl such as I now was.

“Master,” I said.

“Yes?” he said.

“Read me my collar,” I begged, “please.”

“I showed it to you before,” he said. “You should have read it for yourself.”

“You are teasing me,” I pouted. “You know I cannot read.”

“Not even your collar?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

“Well,” he said, “do not worry about it. It is not necessary for you to be able

to read your collar. All that is necessary, from your point of view, is that it

is locked on you, that you cannot remove it, and that it can be read by free

men.”

“Are you going to teach me to read?” I asked.

“Such skills would seem to have a very low priority,” he said. “For example, can

you play the kalika?”

“No,” I said.

“Do you know the exercises and luscious movements of slave dance?” he asked.

“Not really,” I said.

“So why should you be taught to read?” he asked.

“I could spy on your mail,” I said.

“I had not considered that,” he admitted “It could improve my price,” I said.

“That is probably true,” he said.

“Many men,” I said, “enjoy having a girl who can read. It gives them pleasure to

make her serve as well, or better, than an illiterate girl.”

“I shall think about it,” he said.

“Thank you, Master,” I said. Whether I would learn to read or not was not up to

me. In final analysis, it was up to masters. It would be done with me as they

wished.

“Tell me, please,” I asked, “what is on my collar.”

“A speck of dust,” he said. “There, I have removed it.”

“Please,” I said.

“It is simple,” he said. “It says, ‘I belong to Drusus Reneius, of Ar.’

I kissed him. “It speaks the truth not only of my legal condition,” I said, “but