Blood Brothers of Gor (69 page)

"By Hci, of course?" she said.

"Yes," I said.

"Of course," she said, bitterly.

I then unlooped some more rope.

"It is an excellent view," commented Iwoso, lightly.

"Yes," I said.

"To what do we owe this extrordinary privilege," she asked, "that we are permitted this view, this fresh air, that we have been relieved of our hoods and our bonds in the prison lodge?"

I looped the rope twice about her neck and then three times more under her chin and about the post, slipping in deeply into the notch in the back of the post whihc, like the lower notch, serves to prevent slippage.

"Today," I said, "you are to be judged."

"Judged!" she cried.

"Yes," I said. I then jerked tight the knot, the rope secure in its notch, behind the post. Iwoso's head, like Bloketu's was then roped back helplessly against the post.

"But I am an animal," cried Bloketu. "I am only a slave!"

"You will be freed prior to your judgment," I told her. "You may then, in full accountability, helplessness and vulnerability of the free women, face justice."

Bloketu moaned in misery.

Iwoso began to squirm madly in the ropes. I regarded her. "Struggle, free woman," I said. "It will do you no good."

Iwoso, irrationally, frenziedly, fought the ropes. Then, regarding me in misery and terror, she ceased her struggles. She was held, of course, as helpless as before.

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"Bring me a kaiila," she whispered. "Help me escape. I will make you rich among the Yellow Knives!"

"What of her?" I asked, indicating Bloketu.

"She is only a slave," said Iwoso. "Leave her. Let her face justice."

Bloketu regarded her, piteously.

"Do not even dare to speak, Slave," said Iwoso.

"Forgive me, Mistress," said Bloketu. On her neck, thrust up, over the ropes holding her neck to the post, she still wore Iwoso's collar. Cuwignaka ahd not seen fit to remove it from her.

I regarded Iwoso. She stood before me, roped to the post, absolutely helpless in her bonds.

"I am sorry," I said. "My sympathies are with the Kaiila." I then turned away.

"Warrior," called Iwoso, ingrantiatingly.

I paused.

"Please come back," entreated Iwoso.

She had called me "Warrior" though I still wore Canka's collar, though I was still a slave. She meant, thus, to flatter me. Iwoso, I conjectured, did little without purpose.

I turned about. "Yes," I said.

"I am tied tightly," she said. "Can you not loosen my bonds, but a little?"

I looked at her.

"Please, please," she said.

"You are beautiful," I said.

"Roped and stripped as I am, handsome warrior," she said, "if I should indeed be beautiful I could never hope to conceal it from you."

"That is true," I said.

"Please," she wheeled.

"Perhaps," I said.

I crouched by her ankles. "Oh!" she said. I then stood up and attended to her wrists. "Oh, oh!" she said. I then attended to the rope at her belly and then to that on her neck. "Oh! Oh!" she said.

I then stood back.

"You have not loosened my bonds!" she said.

"No," I said. "I seem, rather, inadvertently doubtless, to have tightened them."

She looked at me, angrily. It was not easy for her to do so now, her head held back so closely against the post. "Beast! Sleen!" she said.

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I turned away again.

"Oh, Warrior, Warrior!" she called, desperately, softly.

"Yes?" I said, returning to where she might see me, though, by intent, with some difficulty.

"How does the council go?" she asked.

"What council?" I asked.

"The great council of the Kaiila, of all the remnants of the Kaiila," she said. "of the Isbu, the Casmu, the Isanna, the Napoktan and Wismahi?"

"The council?" I asked.

"That being held now," she said.

"How did you know about the council?" I asked.

"You mentioned it," she said, "in the Yellow-Knife camp, in my lodge."

"Oh," I said.

"Too," she said, "do you not think I could see all the lodges when I was being brought to the post?"

"I suppose it does not make any difference that you know about it," I said, "as you are a prisoner. It would not do, of course, for beasts to learn of it, or the white soldiers of your people, the Yellow Knives, or the Kinyanpi."

"No," she said, "for they might take you here, surprising you and surrounding you, you bing isolated in this place, you bing, for most practical purposes, trapped with little possibility of escape on Council Rock."

"It is doubtless well," I said, "that our gathering here, this council, is a closely guarded secret, that our enemies know nothing of it."

"Yes," she said, "else the work begun at the summer camp might for most proacitcal purposes be concluded here. The Kaiila might, for most pracitcal purposes, be wiped out."

"Fortunately," I said, "our enemies have no way of knowing where we are."

"We were days in our hoods," said Iwoso. "They were lifted only a bit, at irregular intivals, I think to permit the placing of food in our mouths, the holding of a wooden bowl of water to our lips. It was difficult to keep track of time."

"I understand," I said. The hood often tends to produce spatial and temproal disorientation. This is regarded by man as one of its values. Some slavers use hoods to considerably reduce a girl's taming time. Hoods, of course, have many values. One of them is to teach a girl that she is helpless and dependent. Another is punishment.

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"Could you tell a poor free woman, one bound as helplessly as a slave, handsome warrior," she asked, "what is the day?"

"I suppose it could do no harm," I said.

"Please, handome warrior," she begged.

"It is the last day of Canwapegiwi," I said.

"Ah!" she cried, elated.

I smiled to myself. Had she not seen the dust as yet? It had been there, visibly, far off, in the west, for better than a quarter of an Ahn. The movements of the white soldiers and the Yellow Knives, even from the time they had crossed the Northern Kaiila, for days ago, had been under surveillance by our scouts.

"You seem pleased," I said.

"It is nothing," she said.

Did she truly think that it was a mere accident that she and Bloketu had been brought to the posts this morning, interestingly, on the last day of Canwapegiwi?

Without seeming to Iwoso then began to scan the terrain below, doubtless with some anxiety.

"Are you looking for something?" I asked.

"No," she said, quickly, "no!" She looked back at me.

"Oh," I said.

I then, turning away from the ledge, not facing the west, began to coil some rope which was lying about, one of several such lengths which seemed, purposelessly, to be scattered near the edge of the escarpment. When I was behind Iwoso I looked at her again. As I had thought, she had returned to her scrutiny of the surrounding plains. I wondered how long it would take her to detect the dust. I had seen it when I had first come to the edge of the escaprment but, to be sure, from the scouts. I had known where to look. It was obvious, but not dramatically so.

Then I suddenly saw her body move. She had then, I was sure, registered the dust.

"Are you sure you don't see someting out there?" I asked her, coming up behind her.

"no," she said, suddenly, "no!"

"I thought you might have seen something," I said.

"No!" she said.

"I wonder," I said, musingly, and looked out over the rairie, to the west.

"Am I not beautiful, handsome warrior?" she asked.

I turned to face her. I scrutinized her frankly, as she

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shrank back, as one may scrutinize a captive female or a slave.

"Yes," I said. I then made as though to turn back and again regard the prairie.

"Look upon me, handsome warrior," she suddenly begged.

I turned then to again regard her.

"I am only a captive woman," she said, poutingly, lowering her eyes, "one striped and roped to a post, one whom you can uncompromisingly veiw, one who cannot protect herself, one who is absolutely helpless before you."

"Yes," I said.

"You can do anything with me you want," she pouted.

"Yes," I said.

"No!" she said. "Please continue to look upon me!"

"Why?" I asked.

"Can you not tell?" she asked, smiling, as though chiding me with a gentle, embrassed reproach.

I shrugged.

"No!" she said. "Please continue to look upon me!"

"Why?" I asked.

"Look," she said. She thrust her body toward me, pressing it piteously, squirmingly, against the ropes that bound it to the post.

"What is wrong?" I asked.

"Do not make me speak!" she said.

"Speak," I said.

"I am a woman," she said, "and I wish to be touched and loved."

"Oh?" I said.

"Yes!" she said.

"Surely you can speak more clearly," I said.

"I am a woman," she said, "and my body hunger cries out in my belly! My desire in much with me! My wants are much upon me!"

"Speak more clearly," I said.

"I am a woman," she said, "and my feminine needs, irresistible, overwhelming, clamoring, pleading, making me helpless and yours, porstrate me before you!"

"You speak like a slave," I said.

"And perhaps now," she said, "for the first time, I begin to understand something of the nature of those feelings which can so afflict those unfortunate women, making them so helpless, begging their masters for their touch."

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"Is it my understanding," I asked, "that you wish to serve at the post, as a slave might, licking and kissing?"

"Yes!" she said. She then closed her eyes and pursed her lips.

"I shall call Hci," I said.

"Hci!" she cried, opening her eyes and regarding me wildly.

"Yes," I said. "He is your captor."

"Never!" she cried.

"Oh," I said, and turned again to the prairie.

"Yes!" she cried. "Call Hci!"

"You wish to lick and kiss your captor, as a slave might?" I asked.

"Yes!" she said.

"Do you beg it?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "Yes!"

"Very well," I said. "Hci!" I called.

Hci, interestingly, was not very far away and, in a moment or two, he was approaching Iwoso's post. I winked at Hci. "This woman," I said, "has begged to like and kiss her captor, as a slave, at the post."

"Well?" aske Hci. He stood quite close to Iwoso. She turned her head to the side, that her lips might not bursh his. She began to tremble. I think that, as a mature female, she had perhaps never been that close to a male, and certainly not in this fashion. Hci was stripped to the breechclout, and Iwoso shrank even further back as the handle of his knife, thrust in its sheath, touched her above the belly on the right.

"Well?" said Hci.

Timidly Iwoso turned her head to him and their lips, gently, touched. She then kissed him twice, timidly, on the check. He did not move. Iwoso, then, frightened, but more boldly, began to kiss him softly about the mouth and face.

These kisses, now, clearly, I saw, went beyond the feigned obedience ingredient in her strategem; some of these kisses were like quesitons, after which she would wait to see how he might react; others were like tiny explorations or experiments, testings or tastings, to satisfy her female curisoity; others were like small, tender placatory submissions; others were like gentle, moist offerings, hoping that he might be pleased. Iwoso, I saw, doubtless contrary to her origninal intentions, was actually kissing Hci.

"Lick, as well as kiss," said Hci.

Iwoso, softly, then, complied.

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I was reminded of the girls at the training stakes in the pens of slavers, in the cities. One of the first things a girl is taught to do is to like and kiss under duress. One of the next things she is taught to do, in her training chains in a furre alcove, is to make love instantly, at so little as the snapping of fingers or the barking of a command.