Blood Brothers of Gor (55 page)

How shamelessly she lay before me!

Surely she knew how she lay before me. She lay before me as a curvaceous slave before her master.

I forced myself to look away from her. I counted several Ehn. Idly, in the dirt, beside me, I traced designs. Then I discovered they were cursive Kegs, the common Kajira sign, sometimes called the staff and fronds, that sign which marks the thigh of so many enslaved Gorean beauties.

I looked back at the girl.

"Do I distract you?" she asked.

"No," I said, angrily.

"Oh," she said.

She squirmed a little, apparently merely to change her position.

I made an angry noise.

"Master?" she asked.

"It is nothing," I said.

"Oh," she said.

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I observed how her toes were pointed, this curving her calves deliciously. Her belly, too, was sucked in a bit, accentuating the loveliness of her breasts and the flare of her hips. How lasciviously, how desirably, she lay before me, and yet with what seeming indifference, with what a seeming innocence, with what a seeming lack of awareness! she sighed, and smiled, and looked away. How inadvertently she had seemed to do that. The she-sleen! I clenched my fists. She knew ell what she was doing. She lay before me with te lascivious, apparent nonchalance of a slave who, supposedly unaware, knows well that her master's eyes are upon her.

"Master?" she asked.

"Rest," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said, and smiled. "If master should desire aught, let his slave be summoned. She will respond with instant and perfect obedience."

"It is well," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

She then closed her eyes, pretending to sleep.

I regarded her. I could not take my eyes from her. I owned her. Well was I pleased that she had fallen to my leather.

She opened her eyes, and smiled.

"Rest," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said, and again pretended to sleep. There was a tiny smile about the corner of her lips. How shamelessly she lay before me, and yet with what an apparent lack of awareness!

The she-sleen was cunning, and delicious. Well did she knw what she was doing to me. I looked away from her and began to sweat. Again I clenched my fists. I must not permit myself to be diverted from the business of the day.

I looked back upon the slave.

She again closed her eyes, pretending again to sleep. She squirmed a little, and made a tiny noise, as though in weariness. I saw that she expeced to conquer.

"Slave," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"You do not seem to be sleepy," I observed.

"No, Master," she said.

"But it does not matter, whether you are or not," I said.

"No, Master," she said.

"For you are a slave," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Slave," I said.

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"Yes, Master," she said.

"Crawl to me on your belly," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said, smiling.

"Now kneel before me," I said, "with your knees wide, with your wrists crossed behind you, touching, as though bound."

"Yes, Master," she said. She was then before me, in a posture of my dictation, and, as it is said, bound by my will.

I withdrew an object from my pouch.

"Master?" she said.

I held the object before her. She regarded it with dismay. "I have alread chewed the sip root within the moon," she said.

"Open your mouth," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

I then thrust the object into her mouth.

"Chew it well," I said, "and swallow it, bit by bit."

She grimaced, at the barest taste of the object.

"Begin," I told her.

She began.

"Not so quickly," I told her. "More slowly. Very slowly. Very, very slowly. Savor it well.

She whimered in obedience.

She did not need the sip root, of course, for, as she had pointed out, she had had some within the moon, and, indeed, the effect of sip root, in the raw state, in most women, is three or four moons. In the consentrated state, as in slave wine, developed by the caste of physicians, the effect is almost indefinite, usually requiring a releaser for its remission, usually administered, to a slave, in which is called the breeding wine, or the "second wine." When this is administered she usually knowns that she has been selected for crossing with a handsome male slave.

Such breedings commonly take place with the slaves hooded, and under the supervision of the master, or masters. In this way the occurrence of the breeding act can be confirmed and authenticated. Sometimes a member of the caste of scribes is also present, to provide certification on behalf of the city. Usually, however, in cities which encourage this sort of registration it is sufficient to bring the papers for stamping to the proper office within forty Ahn. Such rigor, however, is usually involved only in the breeding of expensive, pedigreed slaves. Most slave breeding is at the discretion of the privae master or masters involved. Slaves from the same household incidentally, are seldom mated. This practice is intended to

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reduce the likelihood of intimate emotional relationships among slaves. Furthermore, make and female slaves are usually kept separate, female slaves commonly performing light labors in housholds and male slaves working in the fields or on the grounds. Sometimes, to reward male slaves, or keep them content, or even to keep them from going insane, a female slave is thrown to them. this is sometimes a girl of delicate sensibilities from the house who has not been perfectly pleasing; she then finds herself thrown naked to work slaves. In slave matings, since most crossings do not take place within the same household, a stud fee is usually paid to the master of the male slave. The active ingrediet in the breeding wine, or the "second wine," is a derivative of teslik. In the matter of bitterness of taste there is little to choose from between raw sip root and slave wine, the emulsive qualities of the slave wine being offset to some extent by the strength of the concentrations involved.

"I have finished it," gasping the girl, shuddering.

"Open your mouth," I said, "widely."

I forced her mouth open, even more widely, with my thumbs and forefingers. I examined her mouth, closely. The sip root was gone.

She still held her wrists crossed, touching, behind her. She was still bound, as it is said, by the master's will.

"You are unbound," I told her. She removed her hands from behind her back.

She looked at me, knowing that I was her master.

"Lick and wipe your mouth," I told her. She ran her tongue over her lips, and wiped them with the back of her right forearm.

If I should choose to kiss her I did not desire to taste the residue of sip root.

"Hands on thighs," I said, "head down."

She complied. It is pleasant to command women.

"Do you think that you will conquer?" I asked.

"No, Master," she whispered.

"Would you like more sip root?" I inquired.

She shook her head, rigorously. "No, Master," she said.

She had not needed the sip root, of course.

It is occasionally useful to have the slave perform arbitrary and unpleasant acts. It helps to remind them that they are only slaves, and are subject to the master's will.

"Lift your head," I said.

She did so.

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"Please me," I said.

"After what you have done?" she asked. "After what you made me do!"

"Please me," I said, "--perfectly."

"Yes, Master!" she said, frightened. She then began, anxiously and fearfully, desperately afraid, to kiss and caress me.

I then looked down at her, in my arms, snuggled against me, lifting her lips to mine.

"Who will conquer?" I asked her.

"You," she said, "you, Master!"

"You will see to it, won't you?" I asked.

"Yes, Master," she said, desperately.

It is occasionally useful to enlist the woman's aid in her own conquest. If she is not conqured, authentically, and in her own understanding, and to the master's satisfaction, she is subjected to severe punishment, and may even be slain. Accordingly, with all of her will and feeling, she bends every effort toward her own defeat. She does not rest until she knows herslef, and her masters know her, to be naught but a submitted, vanquished slave.

I kissed her, and her lips, open, hot, seemed to melt beneath mine. How well her slave's body, hot and naked, yielding, felt in my arms!

"Be cruel to me," she begged. "I am yours. I am owned. I am a slave!"

Some women can resist, for a time, some masters, but what women can long resist both herself, turned against herself, by the maaster's will, and the master, as well? Waht a splendid ally the woman makes, in her own conquest! Should she not be used more often? Too, when a woman has aided in her own conquest, her defeat, brought about in part by her own will, has a special memorableness for her, a special, self-revelatory significance for her. She has, in her defeat, of her own will, acknowledged herself a slave. This understanding, and acknowledgement, openly made, is often the difference in a woman between joy and fulfillment, and egotism, hostility and frustration.

"Who has conquered?" I asked the woman.

"You have conquered, completely, Master," she said. "I am a slave. I am yours alone."

"Strictly," I said, "you belong to Cuwignaka. It is your use which is mine."

"Yes, Master," she sobbed.

"You are his alone, as of now," I said. "But if he should

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give you away, or sell you, then you would belong to another."

"To you," she wept. "To you!"

"To anyone," I said.

"Yes, Master," she sobbed.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because I am a slave, only a slave," she wept.

"Yes," I said.

"Yes, my Master," she sobbed.

"Hold!" I said. "Listen!"

She clutched me, her eyes closed.

I heard the two notes, as of a fleer.

"Do you not hear it?" I asked.

"It is a fleer," she said. "It is only a fleer."

She moaned as I thrust her from me. I licked my lips. I could still taste a little of the sip root, kissed from her mouth. It was bitter.

She extened her hand to me. "Master!" she said.

I crouched in the pit. I lifted my head, peering through the larger of the two apertures in the ceiling of the pit.

Again we heard the two notes, as of a fleer, more insistently.

I stood then in the pit, my head and shoulders outside of the opening.

"Master," she said.

"It is not a fleer," I said.

I crouched down again, then, in the pit. I yanked at the rawhide rope, twice looped, tied, in her right ankle. It was tight. Its other end was looped twice about the hobbling log. I then seized the woman, my left hand in her hair, my right hand in her collar, and pulled her up, beside me.

"Master!" she cried, in misery.

I thrust her up, through the opening.

"Do you see it?" I demanded.

"Yes," she said, after a moment. "It is very high."

"Is it circling?" I asked.

"It is hard to tell," she said. "I think maybe it is."

"Good," I said. "Then it is probably hunting." The leisurely, high-altitude hunting circles of our prey sometimes manifested a diameter of pasangs.

"Does it see you?" I asked.

"I do not think so," she said.

"Move a little, walk about," I said. I saw the rawhide tether shift.

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The distance vision of our prey would be truly remarkable. It is particularly good at the detection of movement. It is said it can see an urt move across open ground at a distance of two pasangs. It is said it can detect an irregular movment of grass, not correlated with wind direction and velocity, from a distance of one pasang. I was confident we could rely on its vision.

"It is circling," she said.

"Does it see you?" I asked.

"Now," she said, frightened. "Now I think it does."