Prize of Gor (92 page)

“Position,” said he, and she, whimpering, went as much to position as her bound wrists permitted her. Would he not allow her even that much modesty, that much relief?

“Would you like to be braceleted?” he asked.

“Yes, Master,” she said, pulling at the tight loops of leather string that bound her wrists, hot and sweating, the one to the other.

“Would you like to be front-braceleted or back-braceleted?” he asked.

“Assuredly, Master,” she said, “front-braceleted!”

She felt his fingers forcibly widen a space between the loops of leather string that held her wrists behind her. Then, against the exposed flesh, between the loops, she felt metal, pressing closely, the opened curves of slave bracelets. Then the devices snapped shut about her wrists, closely, snugly, and she was braceleted, back-braceleted. And only then were the loops of leather string removed from her sweating wrists, only after her wrists had been securely enclosed in slave bracelets. This is not that unusual in Gorean custody, the slave being kept in one bond until another is in place. A similar custom is generally observed with respect to identificatory hardware, for example, with respect to collars, bracelets, anklets, and such. For example, if one is going to anklet a slave, one would normally keep the bracelet or collar on her until the anklet is in place, and so on. In this way there is always at least one token of bondage on her, other than the brand. Doubtless this is what had been done with Tutina, on Earth, or before bringing her to Earth. Ellen remembered that Tutina had been ankleted. Bandages had covered it, outside the house. Ellen recalled that she, too, in the house of Mirus on Earth, had found herself ankleted, but she had not, of course, at that time, understood the significance of the device. Perhaps a collar would have been clearer to her.

So Ellen knelt, wide-kneed, back-braceleted, somewhere, she supposed on the outskirts of the festival camp. Although he had not seen fit, in the master’s prerogative, to accede to her request for front-braceleting, she was nonetheless grateful for her braceleting, for the encircling metal wristlets were far more comfortable than the tight loops of leather string had been. To be sure, she was now more his than before. Anyone might cut leather bonds, a brigand, or such, but she now wore slave bracelets. These could not be removed without a key, or a tool.

She pulled a bit, against the bracelets.

I am braceleted, she thought.

Even in the house of Mirus, long ago, she could not help but respond to her braceleting. Even then, however reluctantly, she had found the bracelets stimulatory. How delicious it was, how exciting it was, that feeling of being braceleted, of being helpless, utterly helpless, of having her small wrists fastened together, locked together, particularly behind her back, her beauty then so exposed, so unguarded and defenseless, in those linked, obdurate, sturdy, uncompromising bracelets — slave bracelets. It spoke to her of her vulnerability, her helplessness, of her subjection to men, of her condition, slave, of her nature, female.

I love being braceleted, she thought.

Ellen sensed that her master was then standing before her, the leash presumably in his hand, she gathering that from the tiny draw on the hood’s strap ring. Too, she did not feel the leash against her body.

“Master, may I speak?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“There is confusion in the camp,” she said. “I heard men speak. The gold for the troops in Ar has been stolen!”

“You look well,” he said, “kneeling before me in suitable position, naked, hooded, leashed, back-braceleted.”

“Master!” she protested.

“Do not concern yourself with such matters,” he said. “They are not the concern of slaves.”

“But men may seek you, for you possessed gold, coins which, it seems, may have borne the quality and weight certifications of Jad, on Cos!”

“Do not concern yourself with such matters,” he said.

“You may be seized, Master!”

“Then you will doubtless be resold, and will have another master, slut. Do not forget that you are a mere chattel. As such you are trivial and meaningless. These matters have no more to do with you than they would with a tarsk, a creature more valuable than yourself.”

“Few tarsks go for as much as five gold pieces, Master,” said Ellen.

“The gold was meaningless,” said he, “save as a gesture, as an insult to Cos, which I suspect that only now they comprehend.”

“An insult?” asked Ellen.

“Certainly,” said he. “Thus one of Ar shows his contempt for the coins of Cos, that he uses them to buy no more than a worthless slave.”

“There were silver tarsks bid for me!” said Ellen.

“That is true,” he said. “Perhaps you are worth a handful of silver tarsks.”

“Surely you purchased me for something!” said Ellen.

“Perhaps you will amuse me for a time,” he said, “until I tire of you.”

“Yes, Master,” said Ellen, sobbing.

“Know yourself a slave, little vulo,” said he.

“Yes, Master,” said Ellen. “Master.”

“Yes,” said he.

“It is your collar on me, is it not?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Perhaps you care for me a little, to put your collar on me?”

“It is common to collar slaves,” he said.

“Do I have a name?” asked Ellen.

“‘Ellen’ will do,” he said. “It will serve to summon and command you as well as any other name.”

“Is that name on my collar?” she asked.

“Do you think that would be wise?” he asked.

“No, Master,” said Ellen. She knew she had been sold under that name, that that name was on the records of scribes.

“Also, that way,” he said, “the collar may be used for an indefinite number of female chattels.”

“Yes, Master,” said Ellen, angrily.

“To be sure,” he said, “one could always use the name ‘Ellen’ for any number of kajirae.”

“Certainly, Master,” said Ellen, angrily. “May I ask what the collar says?”

“Perhaps you can make it out one day, deciphering it in a pool or mirror,” he said.

“Please, Master!” protested Ellen.

“Ah,” he said, “I had forgotten that you are illiterate.”

“Master?” she asked.

“It says,” said he, “‘I am the property of Selius Arconious, of Ar.’”

For a moment Ellen’s heart leaped within her bosom, incomprehensibly, with joy, that she would be such, and publicly designated as such. She had forgotten, for the moment, it seems, that she hated him. But then she asked, “Is that wise, Master?”

“They do not know me,” said he. “Too, a blank collar might arouse even more suspicion. Besides, it pleases me to have the little barbarian slut in my collar, and in one which identifies her as mine.”

“I hope to wear your collar worthily, Master,” said Ellen.

Then she cried out within the hood as she was drawn roughly to her feet. “Do not lie to me, little slut,” said he.

“No, Master!” she cried.

“Do you think I do not know what the women of Earth do to the men of Earth?” he asked. “You, Earth slut, will be a slave amongst slaves!”

“As Master wishes,” said Ellen. “I am his!”

“It is pleasant to own women,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” said Ellen.

“Did the leash warm you?” he asked.

“Yes, Master!” sobbed Ellen.

“Good,” he said, angrily. And then he cupped her, casually, possessively, holding her in place with his left hand behind her back. She sobbed, and whimpered, and squirmed, helpless in the bracelets. “I see that it is true,” he said.

“Please, Master,” cried Ellen, “be kind to me!”

“Be silent,” said he, “female.”

It seemed he had little intention of treating her with gentleness. He then held her by her upper left arm, not even bothering with the leash, and drew her forcibly, she stumbling, beside him. She was thusly dragged for some twenty yards. Seldom had she felt more female, thus helpless, thusly imperiously handled. What men can do with us, she thought. Then she was thrust down, on her stomach over some surface, that of seemingly a large, felled log. She felt the rough bark on her belly. She was helpless. She squirmed. He pushed up her braceleted wrists and entered her. He had told her she would be a slave amongst slaves. “Oh!” she cried. “Oh!”

He growled like an animal and she was claimed.

Then he withdrew and she sank to her knees beside the log, pressing the hood against it. She could feel particles of bark on her belly, and grass beneath her knees. She was aware of his collar on her neck.

“Oh, Master, Master,” she sobbed softly.

“There is no time,” he said. “Do not fear, Earth slut. I am looking forward to pegging you down and having you writhe and scream yourself mine. I will bring you to the point of yielding a hundred times before I permit you relief, if I choose to do so at all. I will impose a domination on you that you will never forget. When I am through with you, Earth slut, you will know who your master is.”

She wept in the hood.

“Please do not be cruel to me, Master,” she whimpered. “I am only a slave.”

“So the little barbarian slut acknowledges herself a slave?” he said.

“Yes, Master!”

“Say it,” he said.

“I am a slave, Master,” said Ellen.

“Are you obedient and docile?” he asked.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“Are you hot, devoted and dutiful?” he asked.

“I will do my best to be so, Master,” she said.

“Earth woman,” he laughed.

“No, Master,” said Ellen. “No more am I an Earth woman. I am now only a
woman
, and a slave.”

“Stand,” said he, “kajira.”

Ellen rose to her feet. She quivered. She was unsteady. She pressed her thighs together. She whimpered. “Master muchly denies me,” she whispered.

“Follow,” said he, and she felt a tug on the leash.

Why is he cruel to me, she asked herself. Does he not know that I am now no more than a slave?

And so she followed her master, on his leash. She wondered if any of the women of Earth knew such men, masters. How many, she wondered, clung to their tear-stained pillows, longing for the domination, the mastering, that would complete them, that would give meaning to their lives.

She was led for some ten to fifteen Ehn. Sometimes she sensed the smoke of fires, sometimes their warmth. The odor of roast bosk penetrated the leather of the hood. Once the odor of scalding kal-da came to her nostrils. Sometimes she heard men talking. Once she heard the laughter of a woman, in this camp doubtless a slave. Once she trod through cooling ash. She supposed it would be dark, or nearly dark, by now. Too, something in the feel of the air on her body suggested the dampness of the coastal evening. She realized that, in the hood, it was not likely she could be recognized, either as the dancer of two nights afore, nor as the slave for whom, yesterday evening, such a surprising price had been paid. She wondered if Selius Arconious, whom she supposed still held her leash, was disguised, or wore about his features the hoodlike folds of a cloak. She suspected he was not alone. Surely he, alone, could not have obtained the loot of Cos. He must have confederates! Had not another brought her away from the holding area? But he must have risked much to have secured her, she thought, in open auction, and to have dared to use gold, whether that of Cos or no, to buy her. She did not take too seriously the thought of his suggested insult to Cos, though she did not doubt but what that might have provided some sort of pleasant, subsidiary satisfaction. That was just too pat, too convenient. There would have been too much risk involved, surely, to justify a mere gesture, even for a Gorean. Too, with such wealth at his disposal, he might have bought any offered slave, or a great number of offered slaves, in the camp. He could have purchased enough girls to have set himself up in business, chaining them together, and then seeing what he might get for them in other venues. Many Goreans buy women on speculation. That is not uncommon. And, indeed, do not many slavers do just this, those who buy them, rather than hunting them down, say, like horses. To be sure, it is not unusual, as I understand it, that a slaver will note and then pick out a particular woman for himself, keeping her at least for a time. I do not think this is surprising. Such would seem an opportunity unlikely to be neglected. Indeed, is such not a privilege of his position, an entitlement, in its way, of his sort of enterprise? This doubtless happens with some Gorean women, and, I would suppose, with some Earth women, as well. Certainly some unusually beautiful Earth woman, all unaware of such matters, and, like others, scouted without her least knowledge or suspicion, might find, upon her arrival on Gor, after her initial terror and consternation, discovering herself stripped and chained, a slave, that a rather different or uncommon fate was in store for her, that she had been selected out, and a reserve, so to speak, placed on her, that she had been brought to Gor not like her sisters for the markets, at least immediately, but rather, it seems, for the personal service and delectation of a particular fellow, one by whom in the mysteries of such matters she had been found, totally unbeknownst to herself, appealing, presumably some slaver. She must then wait to discover to whom she belongs. To be sure, most are doubtless acquired with an eye to profit. Slaving, after all, is a business; accordingly the great majority of women brought to Gor would be put up for sale, usually publicly.

Yes, Selius Arconious could have done much with his gold, she thought.

But he had bought her.

He had bought
her
!

He must have wanted me very much, she thought. Very much, indeed. Could that be true, she asked herself. Perhaps. She smiled within the hood. Her steps became light. She knew she hated him, of course, but, still, he was very strong, and very handsome, and, too, of course, he owned her. And a slave must always be very careful of who owns one. He is, after all, the master.

But surely it did not hurt that he was strong and handsome. One could do worse than be the slave of such a man.

I hate him, of course, she reassured herself.

It excited her that he would be her master. But how the brute had tormented her with the leash strap!