Magicians of Gor (39 page)

down the men of Ar, as you should. Continue to keep them, as they have been

kept, intimidated herds of prisoners incarcerated in their own city, encouraged

to view the wretchedness of their lot as the evidence of some new triumph. And

it is your intention to use me to help you in this, by permitting me to insult

them, by permitting me to mock their manhood, to reduce their virility. Of

course! I now understand! So now disband this rabble and release me!”

She made as though to rise.

“Remain on your knees, slave girl,” I said.

“You must let me go, you must order my release, you must take me from these

brutes, you must scold them, speak to them of laws and such, or something,

anything!” she cried. “Defend me, us! I demand it! Release me! You must! I beg

it! The men of Ar have been defeated! No longer are they men! No longer are they

mighty and masters! They are now nothing, they are all weaklings! You are of

Cos! You must keep them that way! It is important to you to keep them that way!

Arrest them if they dare think again of pride and manhood, tangle them in

rulings, trip them with laws, lie to them, confuse them, put them in prison, do

not let them understand themselves, or become themselves, if necessary, put them

to the sword! Burn Ar! Destroy it! Salt its ashes! Do you not understand how

dangerous might probe to be manhood in Ar? You must not permit it! And you can

use women like us to help you in your schemes, protecting us, and using us to

diminish men! Let us be your allies in the conquest and subjugation of Ar!

Surely you understand me? You are of Cos! You are of Cos!”

“But I am not of Cos,” I said.

“Aiii!” cried several of the men about.

“You have drunk from a high bowl,” I said, “and more than once you have spoken

untruthfully, for example, in denying you sensed slave feelings in yourself.”

“Forgive me, Masters!” she cried.

“Too,” I said, “you have demeaned the men of Ar.”

“Forgive me, Masters!” she wept. “You are men! You are men! A slave begs

forgiveness!” Her concern was certainly not out of place. The demeaning of men,

whereas it is permitted to, (pg. 227) and not unknown among, free women, is not

permitted to female slaves. Such, on their part, can be a capital offense.

“More importantly,” I said, “you have not been pleasing.”

She looked at me, wildly.

“Remove her tunic,” I said.

She was then amongst us, on her knees, a stripped slave. She was comely.

I then turned away from her. “What is new on the public boards?” I asked a

fellow.

“Master! Master!” cried the girl, behind me.

“What of the slave?” asked a man.

“You are men,” I said. “Doubtless you will know what to do with her.”

One of the fellows looked at me.

“For example,” I said, “she was thirsty. Perhaps you can see, then, that her

thirst is quenched.”

“That we will,” said a fellow, taking charge of the matter.

“What of these others?” asked another man.

“Read their collars,” I said. “And then instruct them to return to their masters

and give them such a night of slave pleasure as they would not have conceived

possible. Then be certain to follow up the matter the next day, to make certain

they complied fully.”

“We shall,” said a fellow.

“What of the next day, and the next?” asked a man.

“I would expect,” I said, “that the masters, seeing what their slaves are truly

capable of, and what may be obtained of them, will not be shortchanged in the

future. On the other hand, if they are not strong enough to obtain the best and

finest from their properties I am sure the girls themselves, they then needing

true masters, will in one way or another soon obtain a new disposition. Perhaps

the weak masters, unable to satisfy them, will weary of seeing the bondage knot

in their hair, will weary of their importunities, their moans and whinings in

the night, their beggings for use, and either give them, or sell them, to

another. Or perhaps the weak masters, whether unable to satisfy them, or merely

unwilling to do so, will simply yield to their entreaties to be given away or

sold, that they may receive an opportunity for their love, service and beauty to

be put at the mercy of someone who can appreciate it and knows what to do with

it.”

“You heard?” inquired a fellow of the kneeling slaves.

“Yes, Master!” said one of them. “We will give our masters such a night of slave

pleasure as they never knew could exist.”

“Read the collars,” said another fellow.

(pg. 228) Names were read, and domiciles. Men were assigned to follow up on each

slave, the next morning and report back to a certain metal-worker’s shop.

“Speed off!” said a fellow.

Quickly, released, the four girls leaped up and hurried away.

Tonight, I thought, there would be at least four astonished fellows in Ar, and

four slaves who, by morning, if only by teaching themselves, by their own

actions, would have a much better conception of the profoundities, and

sensations involved, and significances, of their condition.

“What is new on the boards?” I asked Marcus. I did not really wish to make it

clear to the men about that I did not read Gorean as well as I might.

Men crowded happily about me.

“There is to be curfew,” said Marcus. “It begins tonight. The streets are to be

kept clear between the eighteenth and the fourth Ahn.”

“What is the reason for that?” I asked a fellow.

“To limit the movements of the Delta Brigade,” he whispered.

“Is there such a thing?” I asked.

“Seremides thinks so,” said a man.

“I heard a barracks was burned last night,” said a fellow.

“I heard that, too,” said Marcus.

“Is it on the boards,” I asked.

“No,” said a man.

“No,” said Marcus. “I do not think so.”

“Then it must not have happened,” said a fellow, grimly.

“Of course,” said another.

I heard the slave, some yards off, at the fountain, crying out. She had been

taken to the lower bowl of the fountain. There she was sputtering and gasping,

and crying out for mercy. Again and again was her head, held by the hair, forced

down, held under the water and then jerked up again. “Please, Masters! Mercy,

Masters!” she wept.

“The delka has been forbidden!” said Marcus. “It says so, here!”

“Interesting,” I said.

“That is the first public recognition of the Delta Brigade,” said a fellow.

I now heard the sound of a lash. The girl had her head down, her wet hair

forward. She was held on her knees by the fountain, a wrist in the hands of each

of two fellows. She shook under each blow. Then, when they had finished, she was

on her hands and knees, head down. Her entire body was trembling. She slipped to

the pavement. Her hair was about. She lay (pg. 229) there. It seemed she could

hardly believe what had been done to her. I supposed this was the first time she

had been lashed. It is something no slave forgets. A fellow then drew her up

again, by the hair, to all fours and, looming over her, pointed to the fountain.

She now, slowly, painfully, crawled to the fountain, between the men, and then,

putting her head down, and as was fitting for her, and as she should have done

earlier in the afternoon, drank from the lower bowl. She was then pulled back

and put prone on the pavement. Her hands were pulled behind her and fastened

there, with a short thong.

“Is there more on the boards?” I asked Marcus.

“I think those are the main items of interest,” he said.

I saw the girl placed on her belly over the stone lip of the lower bowl of the

fountain. She cried out. Her small hands twisted in the thongs, behind her back.

Men crowded about her.

“Glory to the Delta Brigade,” said a man.

“Who are of the Delta Brigade?” asked a man.

“Who knows?” said another.

“They must be veterans of the delta campaign,” said a man.

“Perhaps others, too,” said a fellow.

“A fellow was asking me where he could join the Delta Brigade,” said a man.

“Perhaps a spy,” conjectured a fellow.

That seemed to me likely.

“I heard that they tried to take in a veteran for questioning,” said a man.

“What happened?” I asked a fellow.

“He drew a sword from beneath his cloak,” said a man.

“Swords are forbidden,” said a fellow.

“Doubtless there are some about,” said a man.

“What happened?” I asked.

“He slew two Cosians and disappeared,” said the man.

“It may be dangerous to try to take in the veterans of the delta,” said a man.

“Probably they will leave the city,” I said.

“Why?” asked a man.

“They will be suspect,” I said.

“There are warriors and guardsmen in the city,” said a man, “who are not

veterans of the delta.”

“That is true,” I said. Also, of course, it was not only in the delta that blood

had been shed.

(pg. 230) “Ah,” said Marcus, glancing over toward the fountain, “here comes the

insolent little slut now.”

“She does not look so insolent now,” said a fellow.

The girl, her hands still bound behind her, her head down, her hair about her

face, shuddering, scarcely able to walk, her upper left arm in the grip of a

fellow, by means of which grip she was being muchly supported, was being

conducted into our presence.

Freed of his grip she immediately knelt, and in proper position.

“You may untie her,” I said.

He jerked loose the thong from her wrists. Whereas it had confined her with

perfection, she had not been able, of course, to reach either of the ends by

means of which the knot could be expeditiously undone.

“To all fours,” said her keeper.

Immediately she went to all fours.

“Describe a circle, of some five paces in diameter, on all fours, as you are

now,” said her keeper, “and return to this place.”

I watched her.

In this way was she well displayed, and in the attitude of the she-quadruped.

She was then again before us, on all fours, head down.

“On all fours,” remarked a fellow.

“In such a posture she does not seem as insolent,” said another.

“She is not,” said another.

“No,” said another.

“A fitting posture for the little she-sleen,” said a man.

“Yes,” said a man.

“Look up,” I said to the girl.

She looked up, through her hair.

“Have you learned to drink from the lower bowl?” I asked.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“You may lower your head,” I said.

She put her head down, gratefully.

“You are not a little she-sleen, are you?” I said.

“No, Master,” she said.

“You are more of a little vulo, aren’t you?” I said.

“Yes, Master, now, Master,” she said.

“What do you want to do, more than anything?” I asked.

“To please men,” she said.

“What man?” I asked.

“Any man, Master,” she said.

“I think she may be permitted to live,” I said.

(pg. 231) “I think so,” said a fellow.

“Yes,” said another.

She began to tremble. I did not think her arms and legs would support her.

“You may break position,” I informed her.

Immediately she went to her belly before me, and reached to my ankle, and put

her lips over my left sandal, pressing her lips to it.

“Do you think you will see your friends again?” I asked.

“I hope so, Master,” she said.

“And how do you think they will find you?” I asked.

“They will find me a slave,” she said.

“And how do you think you will find them?” I asked.

“I do not know, Master,” she said.

“I think you will also find them slaves,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“Do you think that it might be well for the men of Ar to be put to the sword?” I

asked.

“No, Master,” she said. “It is rather that women such as I should be put to the

sword of their manhood.”

“Even if it should make them proud and powerful, and great?” I asked.

“It is hard for this humble slave to believe that her use, and the use of such

as she, the use of meaningless chattels, should have so great a consequence,

but, if it be so, then surely that would be an additional joy to me, and to my

sisters in bondage.”

“Even should it inevitably plunge you deeper and more irrevocably into your

servitude, ensuring that it will become even more uncompromising and absolute?”

“Yes, Master,” she said. “I now wish to live for the chain, the whip, and love.”

I looked down at her.

“I beg you to buy me!” she suddenly wept.

“You beg to be purchased?” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she said. “I beg it!”

“Interesting,” I said.

“Surely it is permissible for me to so beg. Indeed, it is fitting for me, as I

am a slave.”

“And it is just today, I gather,” I said, “that you have learned this, that you

are a slave.”

“No, Master,” she said. “I have known it for years, in my most secret heart. It

is only that it is today, on this day, that I first admitted it to myself. It is

only today that I ceased to lie to myself, that I ceased to be at war with

myself. It is only today, today, that I ceased to pretend to be something which

I knew I (pg. 232) was not. It is only today that I have admitted to myself,

honestly and openly, what I am.”

“Bring her tunic,” I said to a fellow.