Prize of Gor (44 page)

“Shelf girls!” snorted a man, turning away.

“Have that one stand, to be examined,” said a man.

“Cotina, stand, examination position!” snapped Targo.

Cotina stood, her legs widely spread, her head back, her hands clasped behind the back of her neck. It is hard for a woman to move from this position and she must be concerned with her balance. The subtle adjustments and tenseness required to maintain her balance keep her even more helplessly in place, and these adjustments and this tenseness will also be expressed in her posture, providing body-language cues bespeaking obedience and servitude. Too, obviously this posture bares her vulnerably, and her hands cannot interfere with the examination. The position of the arms, the hands clasped behind the back of the neck, or, sometimes, behind the back of the head, lifts the bosom, exhibiting it beautifully.

The fellow came to the surface of the shelf, climbing directly onto it, whereas Targo hurried about, to the side, went up by the steps, and joined him near Cotina.

“Is she barbarian?” asked the man.

“Certainly not,” said Targo, offended.

“Open your mouth,” said the fellow to Cotina, who presumably obeyed. Ellen kept her eyes away.

“Wider!”

“You do not think I would handle barbarians, do you?” asked Targo.

“Yes?” said Targo, for another fellow had clambered to the surface of the shelf.

“Is this one truly blond?” asked the new fellow, presumably of Lydia.

“Certainly,” said Targo.

There was a sudden, sharp little cry from Lydia, as, Ellen supposed, some hair was drawn from her head to ascertain the veracity of Targo’s asseveration.

“I am going to put this one through slave paces,” said the man who was near Lydia.

He then began to issue a set of rapid commands to Lydia, almost as quickly as the trainers in the house had accustomed Ellen to respond. Lydia complied as well as she could, chained, and on cement. Slave paces are much more easily performed on a smooth surface, or on furs at the foot of a master’s couch, such places. Sometimes they are performed on a rug, say, a Tahari rug, before the master who, seated, observes, or perhaps in the center of such a rug, for the interest of the master’s encircling guests. In such cases, often the paces are not called, but performed silently, save perhaps for small gasps and moans, by the slave.

“Oh!” suddenly cried Cotina.

“Yes, she is vital,” said Targo. “Hold position,” he warned Cotina.

“Master!” wept Cotina.

“Hold position,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” she sobbed. “Ah! Oh! Please, no! Oh, do not, I beg you! Oh! Ohhhhh!”

Ellen covered her head with her hands, and lost consciousness.

It was later that night, when the market was mostly deserted, and several of the torches had burned out, that Ellen awakened, to a sound of chain. She felt a tug at her ankle, through the shackle. Barzak was unlocking the padlock that held her shackle chain to the ring. “Stand up,” he said to her, “and get behind Lydia, holding your left wrist with your right hand, behind your back.” Ellen went to stand behind Lydia, who was standing behind Zara. Both girls were grasping their left wrist with their right hand behind their back. Zara’s ankle chain had been lifted and padlocked to the large ring dangling from her collar. On the other hand, Lydia’s ankle chain had been padlocked into the shackle ring of Zara. In a moment, Ellen’s ankle chain had been padlocked into the shackle ring of Lydia. Shortly thereafter, Cichek and Emris had been freed of the shelf ring, and Cichek was standing behind Ellen, her hands behind her, as ordered, and her ankle chain had been padlocked into the Ellen’s shackle ring. Emris took her place behind Cichek, standing as the others, and her ankle chain was padlocked into Cichek’s shackle ring. “You will move with the left foot first,” said Barzak, who did not know if Ellen was familiar with shackled-ankle coffle procedure.”

“Yes, Master,” said Ellen. “May I speak, Master?”

“No.”

“Be careful on the steps,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

There were only one or two men left in the market. Almost all of the goods were gone, taken away to be stored safely somewhere. Across the way a man, presumably drunk, lay near one of the stalls, its shelves now bared, its covering gone, as well.

Ellen, between Lydia and Cichek, descended the shelf steps and, in a moment, entered the building. It was dark, and there was an unmistakable smell of urine.

“The steps are to the left,” said Barzak. “You may hold out your hands. Do not fall. At the foot of the steps be again as you were.”

They would keep their hands in that fashion until they were secured for the night.

The steps were of cement, and narrow, steep and dark.

After moving a few feet down the dark hall, they came to an opened, heavy door, and through this Zara, leading, made her way.

The room, which was large, was lit by a small lamp in a niche on the wall. The room had one occupant, doubtless the woman brought back by Barzak and Targo. She now wore a weight collar, as the others, and this collar, by its ring, was padlocked to a ring anchored in the stone floor. She could not lift her head more than two or three inches from the floor. The hood and leash were gone. She was still stripped. Her body was delicate. Her features were exquisite.

The floor was strewn with straw. It was damp to Ellen’s bare feet.

“Surely we are not to be neck-ringed tonight, Master,” said Zara.

“And you will not be fed either,” said Barzak. “You should understand that, for you were one of the two who precipitated that scene with the Cosians. Do you not understand that we might have been fined, or imprisoned, or killed, or our entire stock confiscated. Do you think the Cosians do not have that power?”

“Forgive me, Master,” said Zara, but he had forced her to her knees, and then to her side, her right hand still grasping her left wrist behind her, so bound by the master’s will, at one of the rings anchored in the floor. He removed the padlock holding her ankle chain to her collar ring and then used it to padlock her collar ring to the floor ring. He then removed the ankle chain from her shackle, and put the chain with its padlock to one side. He then removed Lydia’s ankle chain from Zara’s shackle ring. In a moment Lydia then, too, her ankle chain removed, was neck-ringed to a floor ring by one of its padlocks, the chain put, too, to one side. Ellen was next, and then Cichek and Emris. All were then neck-ringed to a floor ring, and freed of their ankle chains. They retained, of course, the shackles with the shackle rings on their left ankles, as the shackles had been closed about their ankles, hammered shut. The weight collars they wore, too, with the dangling rings, by means of which they were fastened to the floor rings, could not be removed either, except by tools. Barzak, who was brawny, had managed this, she supposed. There was a small anvil in one corner of the room. A girl could be knelt there.

“Your hands are freed,” said Barzak, and the girls gratefully released their grips on their left wrists, held behind their back.

Barzak put the extra chains and padlocks to one side, took the lamp and left the room. Ellen heard the door being closed and locked. She had seen several rings in the room, on the floor, like that to which she was fastened, and about the walls. There may have been as many as fifty such rings. She had thought that there might have been one small window, high in the wall, closely barred. It was dark now, of course. Perhaps that window opened to a narrow passage between the tenements, or to a small, narrow yard, concealed from the street. Gorean buildings of this sort often present a solid front to the street, this discouraging traffic, trespassing, burglary, and such. It was a large, simple, heavy, dark, stonelike room, designed for slaves or captives. Surely it did not resemble the luxurious boudoirs she had heard of in her training, those sometimes permitted to high slaves, the pampered, perfumed treasures of Ubars and generals, sometimes said to even influence the policies and fates of states. Such were prize acquisitions of conquerors, who might enjoy stripping them and putting them in common collars, and giving them to their lowest soldiers, first, of course, having them perform naked before these soldiers, in the presence, naturally, of their former masters, and the conquerors.

Ellen tried to lift her head, but she could do so only a tiny bit, as it was held, by the rings and padlock, close to the floor.

She had been given bread and tea by Targo in the afternoon. Her hunger then, she supposed, while certainly active, would be less than that of her chain sisters.

Her back still hurt from the lashing she had been given hours earlier.

Tears came to her eyes.

She had felt the whip.

She would obey, and obey instantly and perfectly.

The fiery lesson of the broad-bladed, five-stranded Gorean slave whip, designed to be applied to such as she, had not been lost on her.

Earlier in the day the sun had been fierce. She had scarcely been able to keep her eyes open. She feared that she, and doubtless the others, had burned on the shelf. Surely that would not improve her price, she thought, bitterly. She remembered the coolness of the house, the baths required, and the creams and lotions, designed to keep the skin of a slave girl soft, smooth and caressable, pleasing to the touch of a master.

In the coffle she had been between Lydia and Cichek, and she was now between them, as well, each neck-ringed to their respective floor rings.

She was pleased in a way, because, as they were secured, neither they nor the others could attack her, as Cichek had threatened. Certainly she had not deliberately tried to distract the soldier from attending to the others. Or, at least she did not think so, at least not on a conscious level! She was a bit frightened, however, and was uneasy, that her behavior may have belied her conscious intentions, that a deeper self, or a deeper need, or a deeper desire, without her knowledge, without her consent, had presented her, and revealed her, to his consideration as rightfully and natively bond. Perhaps her slavery, beneath the level of her conscious awareness, unbidden, had insisted on calling itself to his attention, presenting itself, offering itself, for his consideration. Perhaps her slavery had spoken to him in a language she did not even dare to consider, let alone recognize. Certainly her sister slaves had been furious. Had they seen something she had not? But surely she could not help it that it was she whom he had put to second obeisance position, bellying, before him, that it was she to whom he gave the back of his hand to lick. It was not her fault, at least by intent, as far as she knew. She did not want to be bought by him. She would be terrified to belong to such a man.

“Cichek,” she whispered.

“Be silent, barbarian,” said Cichek.

“Lydia,” she whispered.

“What do you want?” asked Lydia.

“Do not speak to her,” said Emris.

“We have not been ordered to silence,” said Lydia.

“We are hungry,” said Emris. “She was fed!”

“I am hungry, too,” said Ellen.

“Not so hungry as we,” said Zara, unpleasantly.

“Forgive me, Mistresses,” whispered Ellen.

“What do you want?” asked Lydia.

“You are crying,” said Ellen. “What is wrong?”

“She was put through slave paces, and not purchased,” said Emris.

“She was found wanting,” said Cichek.

“So much for your blond hair and blue eyes,” said Emris.

“She is an ice maiden,” said Cichek.

“No,” said Lydia, “I need and want a master as much as any of you!”

“Men often put a woman through slave paces, when they have no intention of buying her,” said Zara. “They simply enjoy exercising their power over her, and it amuses them to see her perform, at their mercy, not knowing their will or intent. Perhaps they are just bored and are looking for something to do. It has been done to me, and I am the most beautiful of you all.”

“Why then are you still on the chain?” asked Cichek.

“What is it that you wanted to know?” asked Lydia.

“Where are Cotina and Jasmine?” asked Ellen.

“Gone,” said Lydia.

“Gone?” asked Ellen.

“Sold,” said Lydia.

Chapter 17

A BARBARIAN SLAVE GIRL IS VENDED

It was now Ellen’s third day on the shelf.

She stood at the back of the shelf, against the wall of the tenement, her back to the wall of the tenement, she then facing outward, her wrists chained over her head to a ring set in the tenement wall. Her arms were sore, and her legs ached. Targo was not much pleased with her.

Surely she should have been sold by now.

On the morning of her second day in Targo’s ownership, after his charges were coffled, and then freed from the neck-rings that held their heads so close to the floor, they had been permitted, in turn, the use of the wastes bucket, and then, afterward, fed and watered, on all fours, heads down, from two long, narrow troughlike pans. Following this Ellen had had to apply soothing oil to the backs of her sister slaves, to assuage the pain of their burns and give them some protection on the shelf. Targo had perhaps realized that miserable slaves with roughened skin, scarcely able to move, red and peeling, would have less sales appeal. On the other hand it could well have been that he now felt more financially comfortable, or even secure, having disposed of Cotina and Jasmine, and could afford this amenity. Too, as we have noted, Targo was not, all things considered, an unkind master. He would not hesitate, of course, to have a woman branded, or whipped, and such. Such things go with the mastery. None of the slaves were willing to apply the soothing oil to Ellen, but Barzak had ordered Cichek, who, with Emris, were perhaps the slaves who disliked Ellen the most, she being a barbarian, to do so. They did not care for barbarians, which was not uncommon, but, too, they, perhaps more intensely than Zara and Lydia, were sensitive to the humiliation of sharing a chain with one. Cichek, who had been deliberately assigned this duty by Barzak, that she might be the better reminded of her nothingness, her lowliness and bondage, was not gentle.