Kur of Gor (47 page)

Masters, incidentally, not unoften caress their helpless slaves to ecstasy. It apparently amuses and pleases them.

"Free yourself,” he said.

"Master well knows I cannot,” she said.

"Try,” he said.

She squirmed, and struggled, for a time, and then subsided. “I cannot free myself,” she said. “I am helplessly bound."

"It is true,” he said.

"Yes, Master,” she said.

Among the instructions accorded to young Gorean males, incidentally, is the binding of female slaves. It is something with which every Gorean male is to be familiar.

"Slaves,” he informed her, “are sometimes staked out, and used for bait."

She shuddered.

"Would you like that?"

"No, Master,” she said.

"Do not fear,” he said. “It is pot girls, and kettle-and-mat girls, such slaves, who would be used in such a fashion. Two-tarsk girls are not used for bait."

"I hope that I am a two-tarsk girl,” she said.

"You are, clearly,” he said.

"Thank you, Master,” she said.

"Tomorrow,” he said, “I think I will begin to leash train you."

She looked up at him.

"Beautiful slaves are often leashed,” he said. “Masters in the cities, visiting markets, places of business and such, often take their girls along, on leashes."

"Like dogs?” she said.

"The same idea, of course,” he said.

"I want to be leashed,” she said.

"Of course,” he said, “for you are a slave. Doubtless your young men of Earth would enjoy seeing you on a Gorean street, slave-clad, muchly bared, collared, leashed."

"Doubtless,” she said.

"I may teach you, too, how to kneel and kiss the whip."

"I learned something of that in the cylinder,” she said.

"It is a beautiful symbolic act,” he said. “How did you feel about it?"

"At first I was terrified,” she said, “but then, as I began to better understand its significance, and why I was on my knees, and kissing the whip, it moved me, and it stirred me, exciting my belly, profoundly."

"Excellent,” said Cabot.

"Soon,” she said, “I was eager to perform this act."

"Good,” said Cabot.

"Too,” she said, “I think I did it acceptably, with timidity, and tenderness, and deference, and hope, and awe, acknowledging my station as slave and the rightfulness of my submission to the might of men."

"And it continued to stir you, and excite you?” he asked.

"Oh, yes, Master,” she said, “terribly so. Yes Master!"

"Good,” he said.

"And eventually you might learn to do it,” said he, “piteously, beggingly, supplicatingly, with tiny noises, in such a way as to drive a master mad with passion."

"And with my hands tied, or braceleted behind my back!” she said.

"Quite possibly,” he said. “And you will improve in your skills, and learn the slow slave use of your tongue, and the slave use of your lips."

"Such things excite me,” she said. “In my training, even with the hint of such thoughts, I could barely remain on my knees."

"There are many ways to lick and kiss the whip,” he said, “tenderly and lovingly, humbly and gratefully, lasciviously and avidly, pleadingly, needfully, supplicatingly."

"Yes, Master,” she said. “Yes!"

"There are skills involved in all slave acts,” said Cabot, “even in so simple a thing as the kisses of slaves."

"Perhaps Master will teach me,” she said.

"It would doubtless improve your price,” he said.

"Oh, Master!” she protested.

"Incidentally,” said he, “being skilled in slave acts, such as kissing the whip, has saved many a girl a beating."

"Yes, Master,” she smiled. “I can understand that."

Many are the ways, incidentally, in which a girl learns to placate her masters. Most commonly it is no more than the placing of herself before him as his slave, perhaps putting herself to her knees, her head down, contritely, to his feet, perhaps ministering to them with her lips and tongue, perhaps placing his foot gently upon her head, perhaps approaching him penitently, on all fours, bringing him his whip in her teeth, such things.

"Master,” she said.

"Yes,” he said.

"I am restless, I am eager."

"You may speak,” he said.

"Have me,” she said. “Have me, please!"

"That sounds as though of Earth,” he said.

"Then use me, Master,” she said. “Please, use me! I beg it!"

"I gather,” he said, “you are begging to be put to slave use."

"Yes, Master!"

"You beg slave rape?"

"How can one rape a slave, Master?” she asked. “The slave is a property, an animal. She belongs to the master."

"In the legal sense,” said Cabot, “you are right. One cannot rape a slave, any more than one can rape a verr or tarsk."

"What if the slave were unwilling?"

"The same,” said he. “No more than a verr or tarsk."

"What if she were seized by one not her master?"

"The same,” said he. “No more than a verr or tarsk. But in such a case the master might object, and take action, perhaps charging a coin for the girl's use, or perhaps killing the thief."

"The thief?"

"Surely, has he not availed himself of another's property without authorization, has he not stolen a use?"

"But one can rape a free woman?"

"Surely,” he said, “and the penalties for that can be grievous, particularly if a Home Stone is shared."

"What is a Home Stone, Master?” she asked.

"You are a slave and may not have one,” he said. “Do not concern yourself with the matter."

"Yes, Master."

"Free women may be raped, of course,” he said, “by raiders, by warriors of foreign cities, by slavers, and such, for women are generally recognized on Gor as loot. But the rape of such women is usually no more than a prelude to their collaring."

"How humiliated they must be, and how shamed they must be, to be subjected to such a use when free."

"But after such a use,” he said, “they are commonly desperate to be collared."

The girl said nothing.

"Perhaps,” he said, “that is because afterwards they regard themselves, so reduced, and so stained, as never again being worthy of assuming the dignities and glories of the free woman."

"Oh, not at all, Master,” she said.

"Oh?” he said.

"No,” she said, “it is because they have been, doubtless for the first time, rather as a slave, in a man's arms."

"Interesting,” said Cabot.

"And they sense not only the labors and terrors of bondage, but its meaningfulness, its stark significance, and its secret fulfillments, of which one scarcely dares speak to a man, and its joys, its indescribable joys."

"So I have gathered, here and there,” he said.

"It is true, Master,” she said.

"Surely their feelings toward their bondage, at least at first, must be ambivalent."

"Doubtless,” she said, “but only at first, for later, as they learn what it is to be a female and a slave, they would not exchange their collars for all the dignities, glories, and freedoms of the world."

"I see,” he said.

"They find their meaning, and joy, at the feet of a master."

"As a slave, as you are."

"Yes, Master,” she said.

She was lovely, lying beside him, bound, hand and foot.

"With respect to the more general sense of ‘slave rape,'” he said, “putting aside the legalities, and such, the expression, I think, is intended to suggest the rightlessness of the slave, and her subjectability to the least whim of the master. Too, not unoften, she is simply unilaterally ravished. The meaning of the locution then is extended, metaphorically, to reflect the powerlessness, the unprotectedness, the defenselessness, of the slave, how she is absolutely vulnerable, how she has not the least say over the uses to which she will be put."

"I see, Master,” said the slave.

"But the term, too, I think,” said Cabot, “clearly reflects something of the harshness, the ruthlessness, with which she may be handled."

"I gather she may not play the games of the free woman,” she said.

"No,” said Cabot.

"Nor demand, and control, the nature of her uses."

"No,” said Cabot.

"Perhaps men sometimes grow impatient with the games, and play, of the free woman,” she speculated.

"Yes,” said Cabot.

"Games, and play, not available to the slave,” she said.

"Definitely not,” he said.

"I trust Master is not impatient with me,” she said.

"No,” he said. “If I were, you would be lashed."

"There is a broad sense of the term ‘slave rape', of course,” said Cabot, “in which all usages of a slave, all uses of her, are in a sense slave rape, as her usages are not at her will but solely at the will of the master."

"Yes, Master,” said the slave, “and that is why she must frequently beg."

"Yes,” said Cabot.

"How cruel are the masters,” she said. “You make us need our rapings, desperately, and then we may not be granted them!"

"It is the way of masters,” he said.

"And the misery of a slave!"

"Perhaps,” said Cabot.

"But as the term is commonly used,” said the slave, “it tends to betoken an uncompromised, categorical usage, does it not?"

"Yes,” said Cabot.

"When I was free, I did not treat men well,” she said.

"That is the prerogative of a free woman,” he said.

"I no longer possess that prerogative,” she said.

"Certainly not,” he said. “You will now serve men, and strive desperately to please them, and as a slave, to the best of your ability."

"Yes, Master,” she said.

"Surely I have much to be punished for,” she said.

"Nonsense,” he said.

"For when I was a free woman,” she said.

"No,” he said. “That is behind you."

"But sometimes, surely,” she said, “a master will avenge himself on the slave who was once a troublesome free woman."

"Perhaps,” he said.

"Perhaps she treated him badly, scorned his advances, mocked his courting, amused herself at his expense, ridiculed him, belittled him, and such."

"In such a case,” he said, “he would doubtless see to it that she learned her collar to perfection."

"Good, Master,” she said.

"And then he might well sell her."

"Oh, I hope not!” she said.

"He will do with her as he pleases."

"Of course, Master,” she said.

"In any event,” said Cabot, “as long as he keeps her, she will find herself no more than his meaningless pleasure object."

"Good!” she said, warmly.

"'Good'?” asked Cabot.

"Certainly,” she said, “and would she not be occasionally subjected to—"

"Yes?” asked Cabot.

"What Master said before,” she said.

"Categorical usages, slave rape, in the most common sense, and such?"

"Yes,” she said.

"Certainly,” said Cabot, “and perhaps frequently."

"Sometime you will treat me so, will you not, Master?” she asked.

"Perhaps,” he said.

"As you spoke before,” she said, “unilaterally, ruthlessly, with no thought of me whatsoever, but only of your own desire, and pleasure, using me without the least concern or mercy."

"Speak,” he said.

"I want to be had,” she said, “—unilaterally, ruthlessly, callously, as what I am—as a mere, helpless, meaningless instrument of your pleasure—
as a slave
."

"You request slave rape?"

"Yes, and of the most uncompromised, unilateral kind!"

"Is it important to you?"

"Yes,” she said. “I want it. I want it!"

"I see,” he said.

"It is fitting for me, is it not, as I am a slave?"

"Yes,” said Cabot.

"Teach me I am a slave, Master,” she begged.

"You understand that hereafter this may be done to you and will be done to you whenever I please?"

"Yes, Master!"

"Very well,” said Cabot.

He then bent to untie her ankles.

Chapter, the Thirty-First:

RUBIES

"Behold!” cried Cabot to the slave. “Come here!"

She sped to him, lightly, swiftly, in her tiny tunic.

Cabot was pleased with her.

Over the past few days she had progressed irrecoverably in her bondage. Her carriage, her kneeling, her subtlest movement, was now that of a slave.

In Cabot's hands she had been spoiled for freedom.

Cabot had no doubt that she would now go for at least two tarsks.

Freedom was now well behind her.

She had learned bondage.

Even if she were to be freed now she could never be more than an unhappy slave, a miserable slave pretending to be a free woman. She might attempt to imitate a free woman, true, but the farce would be hypocritical and hollow, for she had once worn a collar, a slave collar. The role of the free woman to her would now be shallow, empty, and meaningless.

She had learned herself slave.

If Cabot freed her, and cast her aside, she would doubtless have no hope of happiness other than to find a new master, a new man from whom to beg a collar, a new man to kneel before, and serve.

But, then, who would be so foolish as to free one such as she?

One would want her as what she was, a slave.

One would keep her as what she was, a slave.

So keep them for your pleasure.

It is what they are for.

She hurried to Cabot, and knelt at his side.

She was so soft, so radically feminine, and graceful.

Cabot noted the position of her knees.

How free she now was, how fulfilled, how unabashedly alive and sensuous!

Freedom was now behind her, forever, even if it meant the auction block.

She was muchly unaware of these changes in her mien, her attitudes, and her emotions.

She thought herself much the same as before.

But she was mistaken.

She was now slave.

She did not even realize how her body might betray her.

That is something men seldom make clear to a slave.

Sometimes a slave, in attempting to flee a bondage of great cruelty, perhaps that of the laundries or mills, might don the garments of a free woman, hoping to elude recapture, but, to the alert, practiced eye, even beneath the cumbersome Robes of Concealment, and the veils, might be detected the body of a slave. Woe to her if she were then picked up and remanded to free women, that her body might be subjected to a discreet, private inspection. Lo! The brand is detected, and perhaps even a collar! The free women are outraged, but overjoyed, for they then have at their mercy what they hate most, a female slave. And one who has dared to attempt to pass herself off as one of their own exalted sisterhood! The hapless, terrified slave is then stripped, held down, and lashed. She is then pulled by the hair to a kneeling position, and bound, mercilessly, and then, to the rejoicing, exultant shrieks of her nobler sisters, who find revels and festival in such things, she is pulled to her feet and driven, spit upon and jeered, muchly switched, to waiting guardsmen.