Renegades of Gor (60 page)

quarter of a pasang, or so, ahead. I wondered what the warnings of Calliodorus,

if Aemilianus had read him aright, might have been about.

22
   
Publia, Slave

(pg.398) Publia lay before me, on her stomach, over a pile of rope, aft on the

Tais. Her head was down. Her neck was chained to a ring in the deck.

“You?’ she said.

“Yes,” I said.

“Please be kind to a woman who is now only a slave,” she said.

I laughed, softly.

She shuddered.

She was pretty, lying on her belly, over the ropes, her head down.

But yet, I thought, as she is a slave, surely she should be permitted to beg for

kindness.”

“Do not hurt me,” she begged.

“That is muchly up to you,” I said.

“To me?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “I do not have any intention, at least at present, of hurting

you. On the other hand, if you prove to be in the least disagreeable, do not

fear, I will not hesitate to inflict discipline, and severe discipline, upon

you.”

“I understand,” she said.’

“You were once Lady Publia, of Ar’s Station,” I said.

“Yes,” she said, frightened.

“Who are you now?” I asked.

“Publia,” she said, “a slave.”

(pg.399) “Lift yourself, Publia, slave,” I said.

She cried out, softly, perhaps not anticipating the sternness of my grip upon

her.

“Master,” she said.

She clutched ropes in the coils on which she lay. “Ohhh,” she said, suddenly.

Then she began to gasp, and make helpless noises.

The moons were full. The slave was pretty. It was late. We were two days yet

from Port Cos.

I then crouched beside her, and turned her, and lifted her. I held her knees up,

close to her belly. Her body was a small, curvaceous delight. I then put her on

her back, on the coils of rope. I bent over her and then, with one hand, behind

the back of her neck, gripping it, lifted her head, bringing her face beneath

mine, forcing it there. I then kissed her, and let her lie back on the ropes.

Her eyes were wide, and soft, and frightened.

“You were a pretty warder,” I said.

“I am a slave,” she whispered, “only a slave.”

“Perhaps you desire to be pleasing?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said fervently. “I desire to be pleasing!” She then reached out for

me and put her hands behind the back of my neck. She then lifted her lips

timidly to mine, fearing, it seemed, that her overture might be refused, that

they might be rejected. “I do desire to be pleasing, Master,” she whispered. I

permitted her to kiss me.

Later we lay together, side by side.

It was near morning now. I had waited until the crew had finished with her,

until late, before I had approached her. In this way I could have more time with

her. I supposed that in an Ahn or so a fellow would come by, to release her from

the chain, to return her to the hold. They were no longer kept in the tiny

cages. They were free in the hold, though the hatch was locked. Claudia had been

put at the ring earlier and returned to the hold earlier. Publia had been put at

the ring later, and would be returned to the hold later. For a time during the

evening, both had been at the ring. Tomorrow night, as it was on alternate

nights, Claudia would be put at the ring later, and Publia earlier.

“On the day after tomorrow,” I said, “we reach Port Cos.”

(pg.400) “I know,” she whispered.

“The ship will be decorated,” I said. “You and Claudia will be displayed at the

prow.”

“I have heard that,” she whispered. “How will we be dressed for that honor?”

“You will be naked,” I said.

“And in chains?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, “or perhaps ropes. You surely know how women are displayed at

prows.”

“How will it be done?” she asked.

“You will probably be hung there,” I said, “one on each side of the prow.”

“Doubtless it is a great honor,” she said.

“Yes,” I said. “But do not fear, I am sure that both of you, even if there were

a cargo of superb captures aboard, would still be excellent candidates for the

honor.”

“I am not accustomed to thinking of myself as an ornament,” she said.

“It is one of the purposed to which a slave girl may be put,” I said.

“But now I find myself intrigued by the idea of serving so,” she whispered.

“Oh?” I said.

“Yes,” she whispered, “of being found so beautiful that men would display me so.

Oh, I fear it, but, too, I find it exciting, and meaningful and thrilling. I am

coming to understand now how marvelous it is to be beautiful and attractive to

men. I feel so much myself, and so real, and female! Will not other women, I

wonder, resent and hate me that it was I who was put at the prow and not they?”

“Perhaps,” I said.

“Sometimes, when I was a free woman,” she said, “I wondered, secretly, of

course, what it might be like, to be so displayed.”

“You will soon know,” I said.

“Am I beautiful?” she asked.

(pg.401) “Yes,” I said, “and you will discover that in bondage you will become

even more beautiful. Indeed, you will find you have little choice in the matter.

There are many reasons for it, physical and psychological.”

“I want to be beautiful,” she said, “and I am proud to be beautiful!”

“Beware of free women,” I said.

“Surely masters will protect me from serious harm,” he said.

“They will usually endeavor to do so,” I admitted.

“I will be proud, being put at the prow!” she said.

“Beware of becoming too proud,” I said.

“Maser?” she asked.

“Do you wish to be whipped again?” I asked.

“No!” she said. She had been whipped on our second night out, from Ar’s Station.

“The whip is an excellent device for taking pride from a woman,” I said.

“I do not doubt it,” she said.

“Or, generally,” I said, “for bringing about reforms in her character.”

“Yes,” she laughed, “and for bringing us to you in any way you please to have

us.”

I then kissed her, and left her.

23
   
Claudia, Slave

(pg.402) The slave lay before me, on her stomach, over a pile of rope, aft on

the Tais. Her head was down. Her neck was chained to a ring on the deck.

“Is it you?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“I am afraid of you,” she said. As a slave she had a right to this fear, indeed,

a right to the fear of any man.

“Do you wish to beg for mercy?” I asked.

“Would my pleas be meaningful?” she asked. “I am a slave. Will masters not do

with me as they please, regardless of my pleas?”

“They will do with you as they please,” I said, “but if they harken to your

pleas, then it may be that what will please them will be to do with you as you

plead.”

“Then by all means,” she said. “I plead for mercy!”

“But will it be shown to you?” I asked.

“I do not know, Master,” she whispered.

“That, you see,” I said, “is what the masters will decide.”

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“You were once Lady Claudia, of Ar’s Station,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“Who are you now?” I asked.

“Claudia!” she said, “a slave.”

She was pretty, lying on her belly, on the ropes, her head down.

(pg. 403) “Lift yourself, Claudia, slave,” I said.

“Oh!” she said.

She was then held helplessly. She could not so much as move without giving me

great pleasure.

“What is wrong?” I asked.

“I am afraid I will yield to you,” she whispered.

“And what is wrong with that?” I asked.

“But as a shameless slave!” she wept.

“Do so,” I said.

Then, sobbing, then gasping with elation, with relief, she yielded. I could

hardly hold her for a moment, even with her small body, so grateful, so wild, so

eager she was in her sudden, joyous, spasmodic helplessness.

Then she was on her belly, sobbing, pressing down into the ropes, as though she

would hide herself in them. Her head was down, turned to one side, the side of

it pressed against the ropes. She sobbed wildly, helplessly, poignantly, not

able to understand her own behavior, shamed.

I crouched beside her.

“So that is how a slave is used!” she gasped.

“Sometimes,” I said.

“Surely no free woman would be used in such a manner!” she said.

“Presumably not often, at any rate,” I granted her. I did know that free women

might be, and occasionally were, used in that way, for example, to insult them,

or prepare them for the collar. To be sure, the man who used them in that

fashion might as well be, I supposed, for most practical purposes, their master.

“Do you presume, incidentally,” I asked, “to arrogate to yourself the rights or

modesties, or the least of the prerogatives of the free woman?”

“No, Master!” she said.

“Do you presume, further,” I asked, “to inquire into even the least of the

sexual habits or activities of free women, whatever they might be?”

“No, Master!” she said. Her response amused me. Naturally both free women and

slaves, as both are women, are very much interested in one another’s sexual

activities. It is very natural. To be sure, unless the slave is a bred slave,

most of this interest is on the part of the free women, for the (pg.404) slaves

have usually, at one time or another, been free women, and have a very good idea

of how narrow, dull, limited and mediocre is the sex life of the free woman.

indeed, the matter is paradoxical, for the free women have a tendency both to

inquire eagerly into the behaviors expected of slaves, and enjoined upon them,

and, at the same time, commonly profess horror and scandal at what they hear.

“Such things are no longer of concern to you, are they?”

“No, Master!” she said.

“And you are a little liar, aren’t you?” I asked.

“Forgive me, Master!” she said.

“In any event,” I said, “you need not concern yourself any longer with the

sexual activities, the proprieties, and such, of the free woman. Your attention

is now to be more properly focused on your own business and concerns, for

example, such things as the many intricate, exciting, complex and delicious

sexual modalities and behaviors of the female slave.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

The moons were full. The slave was pretty. It was late. We were one day out from

Port Cos.

I then turned her, and lifted her, as I had Publia, holding her knees up, close

to her belly. Her body, like Publia’s, was a small, curvaceous delight. I then

put her on her back, as I had Publia, on the coils of rope.

She turned her face away from me, that out eyes not meet.

“Look at me,” I said.

She turned her eyes toward mine, reluctantly, but helplessly, commanded to do

so. They were filled with tears. Her lip trembled.

“Surely,” I said, “you have been richly used before now. This is not your first

night at the ring.”

“But I know you,” she said.

“And do you think any man can be known as well as a slave knows her master,” I

asked, “or that any woman can be known as well as a slave is known by her

master?”

“I do not know,” she said.

“No,” I said. “The relationship of master and slave is the relation of total,

helpless intimacy.”

“Yes, Master,” she whispered, frightened.

“To be sure,” I said, “the knowing of a master by his (pg.405) slave, and of a

slave by her master, cannot occur immediately. It is a natural relationship, and

thus like any other natural relationship, for example, between a sleen and its

master, it will take time.”

“Of course,” she said.

“Do you have any questions?” I asked.

“How can a man who truly knows a woman treat her as a slave?” she asked.

“It is easy,” I said.

She regarded me, frightened.

“His knowledge even facilitates the matter,” I said.

“Yes,” she said, thoughtfully. “It would.”

“There is even a special pleasure in doing so,” I said, “in mastering, and

commanding, she who is most intimately known.”

“I understand,” she said.

“Similarly,” I said, “the nature of women, what they truly are, most deeply

within themselves, apart from, and beneath the gross, accumulated encrustations

of artificialities and conventions, which must be peeled away, to reveal the

true woman, naked and loving, is important.”

“I love men,” she confessed, seeming scarcely daring to whisper it.

“Are you ashamed of that?’ I asked.

“Should I not be?’ she asked.

“No,” I said. “You are no longer a free woman. You no longer need to conceal

your feelings. You may now openly and freely admit your interest in men and your

love for them.”

“The intimacies of which you spoke, the knowledges, the closeness,” she said,

breathlessly, holding to me. “Such things are at the discretion of the master,

are they not?”

“Largely,” I said.,

“And not all masters grant them, do they?” she asked.

“Of course not,” I said. I could not deny to her that some masters are

heartless, that some are inflexible and cruel. And the coins of such men, of

course, have as much buying power as those of anyone else. In fact, sometimes I

have suspected that slavers enjoy throwing a girl who is still proud, or who has

given them some difficulties, into such clutches. Sometimes after only a week in

the power of such brutes a girl is almost willing to give her life to achieve a