Renegades of Gor (35 page)

“What is your name, prisoner?” I asked our warder.

“Prisoner?” she said.

“Yes,” I said.

“Publia,” she said.

“Are you free?” I asked.

“Of course!” she said.

“You will forgive me,” I said, “but the most common brand sites are covered by

your rags.”

“Do you think,” I asked Lady Claudia, “that Lady Public’s motivations in the

matter of keeping her hair were similar to yours?”

“I suppose so,” said Lady Claudia, finishing the bit of bread.

“And you are probably correct,” I said, “but there was one other, too, perhaps,

which had not occurred to you?”

The prisoner moves a little, angrily.

“What was that?” asked Lady Claudia.

But I addressed a question to our prone captive. “What is your caste?” I asked.

“The Merchants,” she said.

(pg.237) “That, on the whole, is a quite well-to-do caste,” I said.

“It is mine, too,” said Lady Claudia.

I jerked the pouch from the prisoner’s belt, breaking the strings. It was a

weighty pouch. I tossed it to Lady Claudia, who examined its contents.”

“There is much gold here,” she said.

“Put it in my pouch,” I said.

Lady Claudia did so.

“How is it, Lady Publia,” I asked, “that you, a member of the Merchants, and one

who until a moment ago had a heavy purse, are barefoot, and clad in rags?”

She did not respond.

“And such artful rags?” I asked.

She did not answer.

I fingered them. “I doubt that you sewed these yourself,” I said. “They were

probably done by a Cloth Worker. Consider the stitching, the tightness of the

stitches, its regularity and fineness. It seems very professional. Doubtless

though it was done according to your directions. The outfit is calculated to

give the appearance of rags but, upon close examination, we discover it is more

in the nature of a costume.” I smiled inwardly. Slave girls, too, I knew,

occasionally practiced such wiles with their brief, scandalous ta-teeras,

supposed mere rags, befitting their degraded status. Yet I knew they often

labored on such rags in such a way as to show an inch her, and conceal an inch

there, in such a way that a masterpiece of sensitivity, vulnerability and

provocation was achieved. By such means and many others do the luscious, loving,

collared little brutes save themselves many a beating and drive their masters

half mad with passion and desire.

“I congratulate you,” I said. “The entire ensemble, the points and such, and the

varying lengths thusly achieved, and the consequent, now-and-then baring of your

calves, and such, is extremely well done. The entire ensemble reveals marvelous

imagination and exquisite taste.”

The prisoner made a small, pleased noise.

“The question remains, of course, as to why you might do such a thing.”

She lay quietly, not moving.

“The question may be easily decided, of course,” I said, “by seeing whether or

not these garments, unlike the (pg.238) garments of free women, can be easily,

swiftly and provocatively removed, and, say, whether or not, in the typical

fashion of free women, even of the lower castes, you are wearing underrobes.”

Her small fists clenched in fury.

“Accordingly,” I said, “rise up on your knees, and turn and face me.”

She did so, in fury.

Then her fury turned to fear, timidity and docility as I held her veil. I drew

it toward me, gently. Instantly she fell forward on all fours, to relieve the

pressure on the veil, to keep it on her. Her eyes were now wild over it, held

out from her.

“No,” she said, “please do not take my veil.”

“I shall not do so,” I said.

She gasped in relief.

“Lady Claudia will do so,” I said.

Tears brimmed in her eyes.

“Surely you have looked upon her, unveiled,” I said.

The prisoner sobbed.

“Stay on all fours,” I cautioned her. In this way she would be unable to

interfere. Too, she could not put her hands before her face.

The prisoner sobbed, and trembled.

“Remove the veil, carefully,” I cautioned Lady Claudia. I had my reasons for not

wanting it damaged.

“Please, no!” begged the prisoner.

The veil was fastened with a string and Lady Claudia, with two hands, lifted it

gently from the head of our prisoner.

“She is beautiful!” said Lady Claudia.

“Please do not look at my lips!” sobbed the prisoner. But my hand was in her

hair, holding her head up.

“She has excellent lips,” I said. “Properly trained, she could probably kiss

well.”

“How beautiful she is!” breathed Lady Claudia.

“No more beautiful than you,” I said.

“Truly?” asked Lady Claudia.

“Yes,” I said.

Lady Claudia caught her breath for an instant, suspecting then, perhaps, how

attractive she herself might be.

“You may kneel back,” I told the prisoner, releasing her hair.

(pg.239) She lost no time in scrambling back to her kneeling position, and put

her two hands before her face.

“Put your hands down,” I said.

“I do not have my veil!” she said.

Her lips, her mouth, her features, in all their expressiveness, with all their

delicacy, sensuousness and beauty, it was true, should she lower her hands,

would be bared. They would be exposed. One could look upon them, even idly. She

had been face-stripped. Her face was now naked, as much so as that of a slave.

“Now,” I said.

She lowered her hands, sobbing.

I had denied her the delicacy, the modesty, the shield and defense of the veil,

just as it is denied to slaves.

“Did you not expect to tear off your veil before Cosians?” I asked.

She looked at me, angrily.

“I see you did,” I said.

“One grows used to being without the veil,” said Lady Claudia.

“Slave!” cried Lady Publia.

“I am as free as you!” retorted Lady Claudia.

“In the south,” I said, “the women of the Wagon Peoples, even the free women, do

not wear veils.”

“Slave!” cried Lady Publia again to Lady Claudia.

“My face is no more naked than yours!” retorted lady Claudia.

“Naked face!” cried Lady Publia.

“Naked face!” responded Lady Claudia.

“On the other hand,” I said, “the free women of the Wagon Peoples do wear

clothes.”

Lady Publia looked at me, suddenly, sharply.

“Those are pretty rags,” I said.

She said nothing.

“Remove them,” I told her.

Angrily Lady Publia removed the belt from her waist. It was a sturdy belt, flat,

white, woven of ropelike material, quite capable of supporting the purse she had

carried. It was, however, a hook-fastened belt. And she had unhooked it in an

instant and, thus, freed, it fell back, behind her. She then, angrily, put her

hands to the sides of her garment, up (pg.240) about the neck. It was a

wraparound garment. She undid one hook there and, in fury, with her two hands,

swiftly, easily, insolently, gracefully, slipped the garment away.

“Ah,” said Lady Claudia, softly, admiringly.

Lady Publia straightened her body, pleased.

“Did you notice how she could do that, on her knees?” I asked Lady Claudia. “The

garment is designed to allow that. You could perhaps imagine the difficulty of

getting out of the customary robes of concealment while on your knees.”

“She is so beautiful,” said Lady Claudia.

“You removed your garment well, Lady Publia,” I said. “Doubtless you have

practiced it many times. If I were a Cosian, however, I think you would have

done it somewhat less insolently.”

“Doubtless,” she said.

“Under different circumstances,” I said, “and if we had more time, it might be

interesting to put you in a bit of slave silk, and teach you how to disrobe

properly before a man.”

She tossed her head.

“What formulas had you in mind to use to the Cosians?” I asked.

“I do not know what you are talking about,” she said.

“Doubtless you rehearsed them well,” I speculated.

She looked at me, angrily.

“Formulas?” asked Lady Claudia.

“’I bare my breasts before you. Make me a slave,’ ‘I surrender to you, naked.

Spare me. I beg bondage,’ ‘I have endeavored to conceal my true nature from men,

that I am a slave. Visit justice upon me,’ ‘I have stripped myself before you.

let me live, that I may serve you as the most abject and loving of slaves,’ and

such sayings,” I said.

“Such saying stir my belly,” said Lady Claudia.

“That is because it is the belly of a slave!” snapped Lady Publia.

“It would be easy enough to tell,” I said, “if your belly, too, is that of a

slave. I need only place my hand on you, and have you say such things, slowly,

deeply and with feeling.”

She regarded me with horror.

“But you are, of course, a free woman,” I said.

“Yes!” she said. “Yes!”

(pg.241) I saw then the nature of her belly, that she feared it would betray

her.

“Had you never considered such sayings?” I asked Lady Claudia.

“Yes,” she said, smiling, “often, but I had never really thought of them in such

a formal way.”

“But you never dared to kneel naked before a man, and say such things?”

“No,” she said, shyly. “I was much afraid. Bondage is a great step for a woman.

It is so absolute, and different. It is natural for her to fear it. And now that

I long to do so, he who is to me as master has forbidden it. It seems he wants

to keep me as a free woman, at least for a time, for some reason.”

That was true. I had my reasons.

“What did you expect to do,” I asked, “if any, Cosians, or others, in darkened

buildings or flaming streets, came upon you?”

“I had thought I would have had my letter of safety,” she said.

“Do you think looting soldiers would have stopped to read your letter?” I asked.

“Perhaps not,” she smiled.

“So what would you have done?” I asked.

“What I suppose most any woman would do,” she said. “I would have stripped

myself and knelt, begging to be kept as a slave. Then, if I were fortunate, I

suppose I would soon thereafter, my hands bound behind me, be following my

master, on a cord and nose ring.”

“It is not unlikely,” I said.

“Slave!” hissed Lady Publia.

We then regarded Lady Publia, kneeling there, naked, in the straw, her tags back

over her calves.

She had beautiful eyes and hair, and features. She had a marvelous belly,

breasts, and thighs, a luscious love cradle. Women are so incredibly, so

inutterably beautiful! They have been made for seizing in one’s arms, and owning

and collaring.

“She is very beautiful,” said Lady Claudia.

I studied Lady Publia closely, to her acute discomfort, as she looked away,

frightened, not wanting to meet my eyes. Yes, I thought, it is true, she is very

beautiful, and those (pg.242) small, white limbs would look well in shackles,

and that face, those breasts and thighs would exhibit well on the block, under

the torches of an auction.

“Very beautiful,” said lady Claudia.

“No more so than you,” I said.

“Am I truly so beautiful,” asked Lady Claudia.

“Yes,” I said.

Lady Claudia put down her head, shyly.

I supposed it would not do to tell Lady Claudia, as she was still a free woman,

but she was actually, at this time, at any rate, far more beautiful than Lady

Publia. This was because she had now begun to get in touch with her womanhood.

In the past few days in the cell she had begun to discover herself; she had

begun to learn her femaleness.

“But you are a slave,” snarled Lady Publia.

“Yes,” whispered Lady Claudia, speaking not her legal status but her truth.

Lady Publia laughed, scornfully.

Lady Claudia lowered her head, shamed.

I wondered if Lady Publia thought her own truth was different. She, too, after

all, was a female.

“Slave!” sneered Lady Publia.

Lady Claudia did not respond.

In general physical characteristics, such as their height and figure, their eyes

and hair, their complexion and such, they were rather similar.

Lady Publia regarded Lady Claudia scornfully.

Lady Claudia did not meet her eyes.

I thought they might look well, particularly if Lady Publia were improved, as a

brace of slaves. Sometimes one can get more for two girls together, as a brace,

each reinforcing or enhancing, or setting off, the other in some way, than one

could get for them both, sold separately. To be sure, many buyers, when they buy

more than one item, expect a discount on one or both of the items.

“Turn about now,” I said to Lady Public, “and go to your stomach, as you were

before, with your arms at your sides, the palms up.”

She did so, and now lay as she had before except that now she was stripped.

“You are a free woman, as I understand it,” I said.

(pg.243) “Yes!” she said.

I put her hair behind her back, over her shoulders.

“And what, then,” I asked, “would you have done, if Cosians had come upon you?”

“I am a free woman!” she said. “I am not a slave! I would never have

surrendered!”

“I do not like her, Master,” said Lady Claudia. “And I would not be as she. I

would find that disgusting and terrible, as well as ultimately barren and

miserable.”

“I am not sure there are free women,” I said, “except in a trivial legal sense.”