Kur of Gor (94 page)

When she had reached the post, he said, “Kneel, facing the post."

"Yes, Master,” she said, uncertainly.

He braceleted her left wrist and passed the other bracelet through the post's lower ring and then snapped it about her right wrist. She was then before the post, kneeling, fastened to it.

"What are you going to do?” she asked.

"Whip you,” he said, and then left her there, leaving to fetch an appropriate implement.

He did not return for some time.

When he did return she could see that he carried a five-stranded Gorean slave lash, with broad blades. She had seen such a thing in the pleasure cylinder. It is designed for the disciplining of female slaves. It punishes nicely, but does not mark, for that might lower the slave's sales value.

"You are of Earth,” she said. “I am of Earth! You cannot be serious!"

"I have not fastened you standing at the post,” he said, “your hands over your head, for I feared you might be driven against the post, and injured."

She scarcely registered what he had said. It was only later that she better understood its import.

She jerked at the bracelets, angrily. It seemed she might wish to rise, but she could not, of course, fastened as she was, have stood erect.

"Remain kneeling,” he said, “or go to your belly."

"You are joking!” she insisted.

"If you wish,” he said, “you may brace your hands against the post, or your shoulder, to prevent being dashed against it. Later, you may wish to go to your belly in the dirt. It is permitted."

"I am of Earth!” she cried.

"No longer,” he said.

"I am sorry I ran away!” she said. “I am sorry if I spoke to you with insufficient respect! I am sorry if I did not perform obeisance when it was appropriate to do so! I am sorry that I foolishly used your name in addressing you! I am sorry if I have displeased you in any way! Forgive me! Please, forgive me!"

"Do not do this!” she said. “You cannot do it, for I am from Earth, and such things are not for me. I am from Earth and such things cannot be done to me! Do you think I am no more than a Gorean girl, some simple slave, to be put without a second thought beneath the lash? I am from Earth, from Earth!"

"Do not fear,” he said, shaking out the blades of the supple tool. “You will not be beaten as a man is beaten, with the fullness of a man's strength, and such, nor with a whip such as is used on men, say, the snake. This whip is for female slaves, and has been developed over a long period of time, perhaps centuries, to attend nicely to their discipline. Similarly I will not whip you at great length, but only to the extent you deserve, so richly, and to the extent which I hope will rectify your behavior."

"Do not whip me!” she pleaded.

"A crossbar fastened between two posts is often used, to which the slave, kneeling or standing, may be fastened,” he said. “In this way they will not be bruised, or torn, as they might be, against a post, or a wall, such things. An overhead ring might also be used with the same end in view. Such rings are found in many Gorean dwellings."

She then recalled that before, in the forest, when she had been put in whip position, she had been fastened, her hands over her head, rather in the open, to a thick, overhead branch. Only now was the purpose of that, in virtue of the remarks of her master, earlier and now, fully, consciously clear to her, as she might writhe and try to flee the whip, to protect her from forcible contact with a hard surface.

"You cannot whip me!” she cried. “You did not punish me before! You will not punish me now!"

"It is true,” he said, “that I did not punish you before."

"Just touch my back, if you must,” she said, “as you did before. That is enough! It is more than enough!"

He did not respond.

"I need not be punished,” she said. “It is not necessary to punish me. Punishment is not necessary. I will mend my ways!"

Again he did not see fit to respond to the anxious declarations and protestations of the lovely, distraught, braceleted beast.

"I will strive to be pleasing!” she said.

"I trust so,” he said.

"I am sorry I was displeasing!” she said.

"But you were displeasing,” he said. “You are a slave. Did you expect to be displeasing, and not be punished?"

"You cannot punish me!” she said. “I am from Earth!"

"You may find this quite unpleasant,” he said. “Accordingly, it is my hope that in the future you will go to great lengths to avoid incurring repetitions of this experience, at least too frequently, and will be muchly concerned to monitor and improve your behavior, that in such a way as to better serve and please your master, in all ways, to the best of your ability."

"Let me go!” she said, jerking the linkage of the bracelets against the ring.

"To be sure,” he said, “it is often difficult for the slave to avoid displeasing her master, even inadvertently. And occasionally a slave slips somewhat, and becomes lax, and such things are inappropriate, and are not to be tolerated."

"Let me go! Let me go!"

"She is always subject to the whip, you see. Too, as you may not realize, the slave, as she is a slave, may be whipped at any time, for any reason, or for no reason. That helps her to understand she is a slave. Also, occasionally, she may be whipped for no other reason than to remind her that she is a slave."

"You cannot whip me,” she cried. “I am from Earth!"

"From Earth,” he said, “you should be clearly aware, here, as would you be on Gor, that you are only a slave."

"Surely you are not going to whip me, truly, not as a slave!"

"You are a slave,” he said, “and it is as the slave you are that you will be whipped."

"Master!” she cried.

"You are
kajira
,” he said.

"Please, no, Master!” she wept.

He then put the whip to her.

* * * *

"Viands, Master,” she said, kneeling and lifting the plate to him, her head down.

He took what pleased him, and dismissed her, and she stood, near him, for a moment, uncertain, and then another called to her, from across the great fire, about which the men sat, being served, and she, casting a forlorn glance at him, hurried to serve the other, to whom she had been summoned.

She served identically, as all the others.

There was the music of flutes, and a tabor, and one kalika, and a slave, she of one of Peisistratus’ men, stamped her feet, and turned, and danced in the firelight. Bangles clashed upon her bared ankles. It is beautiful to see a slave dancing in the firelight. Or in the light of torches, or candles, in some such natural light. How beautiful are women, thought Cabot. It is a rare Gorean camp, incidentally, which does not have its slaves, for, as noted, Gorean men are fond of them, and reluctant to forgo their services and pleasures.

"Wine, Master?” inquired Corinna, kneeling before him, lifting the goblet in two hands, her head down, between her extended arms.

In the goblet, of course, was actually paga.

"Peisistratus sent you to me?” said Cabot.

"Yes, Master,” she said.

"Thank him for me,” said Cabot, “but I think I will have wine later."

"Yes, Master,” said Corinna, smiling. “Later in the feast I will send her to you."

Cabot nodded, dismissing the beauteous Corinna. He hoped to see her dance, later.

"Paga!” called men. “Viands!” demanded others. “Bread, meat!” cried others.

It was a small feast, with no more than twenty men, and some five or six slaves, but it was a ready, merry one, with the usual raucous gusto of strong, healthy, uninhibited men. Cabot thought that many of Earth might have regarded such as barbarians, but they, Goreans, had much the same views of those of Earth. Who but barbarians would poison their foods, pollute the air they breathed and the water they drank, would live lives of unhealthy deprivation and misery, would wrap their bodies in clumsy, malformed, constricting garments, would congratulate themselves on denying themselves the natural gratifications of their species, would feel unworthy, belittled, and ashamed for having the most natural impulses and feelings of their kind, would allow free women to go about unveiled, as though they might be slaves, and would unthinkingly sacrifice themselves for foolish, preposterous, and contradictory ideologies and creeds? Too, they did not speak Gorean, an infallible sign in many Gorean minds of barbarism. Still, despite the many faults of that barbarian world there was something to be said for it. It was a source world for superb slaves. Certainly its women sold well in the Gorean markets. But that was not to be wondered at, for it is common knowledge that from barbarian shores are not unoften harvested the finest of slaves.

Lord Grendel was not at the feast, for he had returned to the habitats, doubtless on business, say, with Lords Arcesilaus and Zarendargar, or perhaps to participate further in the festivals, or, perhaps, more simply, to be near the Lady Bina.

Near the gate the great sleen, Ramar, had been given a huge haunch of roast tarsk.

Muchly about the fire were conversations, shoutings, songs, recitations, games, proposals, projections, and plans.

Some discussion concerned the respective merits of weapons, particularly the crossbow and the peasant bow. There was discussion, as well, of poets. I trust this is not surprising, that hardy men, skilled with weapons, who often lived with peril, might have such concerns. On Gor and in the world poetry is not the labored, esoteric possession of a delicate, pretentious minority, as it might prove to be in less civilized or more decadent climes, but is a matter of life, robust pride, and zestful living. In any event, in the world, and on Gor, as well, poetry, like music, and song, is familiar, public, and popular. It has not yet fled into eccentric byways. It has not yet been taken away from the people. To be sure, much of the conversation was far more prosaic, involving matters of trade, commensurabilities of currencies, tharlarion versus kaiila races, pen procedures for acclimating new girls to their collars, the best seasons and cities for the marketing of women, whether or not the slave girls of Ar were superior to those of Turia, and what not.

Cabot observed the slaves, serving, the firelight reflected from their bared skins, and glinting and flashing at times, suddenly, from their collars.

How beautiful they were, and how well they served.

And she of most interest to him moved amongst them, no more or less than any other.

Cabot mused, that she had been put with him in the container, on the Prison Moon. She had been selected with care by Priest-Kings, doubtless from many thousands, with him in mind. She would doubtless constitute for any male an almost irresistible temptation, but for him, Tarl Cabot, she had been actually picked out, chosen with all the insidious wisdom and callous astuteness of an advanced science, the science of Priest-Kings. If she was an almost irresistible temptation for any male, what must she be then to him, he for whom she, unbeknownst to herself, had been selected, readied, and prepared? Cabot wondered if in a sense she had not, unbeknownst to herself, been bred for him. Too, clearly she was a slave, to those who could remark such things, the sort of woman to be seized by the hair, thrown to a fellow's feet, stripped, and collared. And, too, of course, the matching, to be most successful, would presumably be one of designed reciprocation, not only she to him, but he to her. She was to have been, as a free woman, a challenge to his honor, the means by which, sooner or later, it must be inevitably lost, but now there was no longer a need to concern oneself with such things, for now, as a slave, she was as open to him or to any other who might own her, as any other slave.

He watched her serving, and he supposed that many of the young men she had so belittled and tormented, led on and then frustrated, for her vanity and amusement, would have enjoyed sitting with others at that feast, seeing her serve with others, as what she was, a slave.

Perhaps, too, they would have enjoyed seeing her at the post, earlier in the afternoon, being punished for having been displeasing.

After only the second stroke she had gone to her belly.

Cabot had left her there for an Ahn, and had then freed her from the post, that she might assist her collar sisters in preparing the feast.

One of the fellows started up a song, and it was taken up by the others, a song of Cos, a rowing song, from which island Ubarate derived Peisistratus and some three or four of his fellows. The song, however, was well known, certainly on Tyros and Tabor, named for its shape, and in other places. Cabot had heard it in Port Kar, but attributed there judiciously to another origin, as little love was lost between Cos and Port Kar. It must not be supposed that the crews of Peisistratus, which composed somewhere between four and five hundred men, most of whom were still in the habitats, enjoying the festival, were all Cosian. They had been recruited widely, and carefully. That is common with the slavers of the ships. The men he had brought into the forest, to abet the mission of Lord Grendel, were thus a tiny fraction of his men; but they were picked men, men muchly trusted, men often relied on.

"Paga!” called a fellow, and a slave, with her vessel, hurried to him, to serve him.

There were no free women present at this feast, of course, so the slaves need not be attired in decorous tunics, or even gowns, nor needed they serve so deferentially and unobtrusively that they might almost not be present, in order that free women not be distressed or disturbed. Too, of course, this was a remote forest camp, away from the habitats, and free Kur females, and the men were, after all, Goreans.

Accordingly the slaves served as one would expect at such a feast, naked, save for their collars.

He observed one of the slaves, she whom he had named ‘Cecily', hurrying to one of the fellows, to replenish his plate.

He was pleased.

She would learn to serve masters unquestioningly, thusly.

If he had her back on Gor, in a holding, and was entertaining, and free women were present, she would, of course, rather as suggested, serve quite differently. Indeed, in a refined supper, or entertainment, female slaves, if not gowned, are usually tunicked rather demurely, the tunics often reaching to the knees. The common slave tunic, on the other hand, usually comes well above the knees, because men enjoy seeing the legs of slaves. In some houses the slaves, in serving, as indicated, might be clad in gowns, indeed, in long, lovely, flowing gowns. When kneeling unobtrusively to the side, or in the background, waiting to serve, the slaves in the long gowns will lift and arrange the gowns in such a way, gracefully, that they are about and over their knees, that in order that it will be their knees which are in direct contact with the tiles, and that the gown, thusly, not be pressed to the tiles by their weight. This protects the gown. The serving garments, whether tunics or gowns, are almost invariably white. This is supposed to make it clear to the free women present that the slaves are modest, quiet girls, bashful and retiring, of a sort a fellow would scarcely notice. It would not do to have them serve in, say, slave red. The arms of the serving slaves are almost always bare, however, as this tends to be cultural for slaves. Too, the collar must always be visible to free women, for they like to see collars on slaves. On such occasions, too, of course, if free women are present, the slave, even if she is her master's pleasure slave, will kneel with her knees modestly closed. Indeed, to look upon her there, so quiet, so decorous and demure, one would scarcely guess what she is like, stripped and chained, begging, at the foot of her master's couch. The free woman at such entertainments, too, will usually have her customs and preferences. A common custom is to scarcely notice the slave, and have her serve, in so far as possible, almost as though she did not exist. And the free woman will often prefer to have the serving slaves be women obtained from some enemy city. This assures them of the nature of such women, that they are worthy only of wearing collars and serving their betters, and, thus, in the same way, in this, they find, inversely, evidence of their own incomparable worth and innate superiority. Sometimes they will buy such a woman, to have her as a serving slave, or, as it is sometimes put, a sandal slave. Slave girls dread to be purchased by a free woman. A man is likely to punish a girl only if she has failed in some way to please him, but a free woman may whip her for no other reason than that she is a lovely slave and men might desire her. It is well known that it is much harder for a girl to please a mistress than a master. The master is, after all, a man. The sandal slave is likely to be whipped if she so much as looks at a male. On her leash she may be expected to keep her eyes modestly down, on the pavement. Too, even if a slave fails to please a master in some way she may well succeed, it must be admitted, in averting his wrath, in managing to placate him, in a variety of ways, by tearful contrition, the display of her beauty, by covering his feet with kisses, and such. But such stratagems, often so effective with males, are unlikely to prove availing with an owner of her own sex. The beauty and the thousand tender, sweet, ingratiating charms of the female slave, as timid and fearful as she may be, often so effective in dealing with masters, are likely with a mistress to earn her only angry, additional strokes of the switch.