Savages of Gor (27 page)

"Me?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, "for you will be only an article of property, a meaningless, purchasable trinket, a worthless bauble, an owned woman, a slave."

She looked at me with horror.

"Surely you are aware that you may be purchased or sold, or bartered, or given away, or commanded , as men please, that you are naught but an imbonded woman, a totally meaningless slave?"

"Yes, Master," she moaned.

"Did you wear a white gown, of ankle length, when you were presented as a debutante?" I asked.

"Yes, Master," she said.

My hand was now tight upon her brand. "Say," I said, "'I am now naught but a branded slave on Gor."'

"I am now naught but a branded slave on Gor," said the girl.

I moved my hand upward, to her hip, and to the sweetness of her waist at the hip.

"Your hand is high beneath my tunic, Master," said the girl

"Do you object?" I asked.

"No, Master," she said. "I am a slave. I may not object,"

"The clothing in which you were exhibited to the buyers," I said, "which was removed for their interest, in your sale, did not seem to me the clothing of a debutante. It seemed to me rather the clothing of a girl, and a certain sort of girl, who works in an office."

"I wished to avoid the imminent and obvious fate of the debutante," she said, "to be bartered, for position and power on the marriage market."

"This was the occasion, doubtless, in which your aunt expressed her view that such, in effect, was all you were good for."

"Yes!" she said. "Oh!" she said.

'You have lovely curves," I said.

"Are you warming me for my taking?" she asked.

"They would bring a high price," I said.

She moaned.

"Your aunt," I said, "surely had a very limited conception of your utilities. It probably never even entered her ken, for example, that you might one day be a scantily clad, branded slave."

"Master?" asked the girl.

"On the other hand," I said, "she knew you very well, and, in some way, may have been touching on something of importance."

"I do not understand," said the girl.

"I do not mean to insult you, a girl from Earth," I said, "but you an obviously extremely feminine. You have, doubtless, a large number of female hormones in your body."

"Master?" she asked.

"Your aunt was then, perhaps, trying to convey to you that your most congenial and appropriate destiny, what might be best for you, what might be most natural for you, would be for you to find yourself naked in the arms of a man."

"As little more than a slaver she asked.

"As perhaps no more than a slave," I said.

"I cannot help it that I have a feminine face, that I have feminine body," she said. "I cannot help it that I am feminine nine

"Why would you want to help it?" I asked.

"It is wrong to be feminine!" she said.

"That is obviously false," I said. "What is your next point?"

"I know that I am feminine," she wept. "I have known for years, from my desires and feelings, even from before the interior truths of my reality manifested themselves so unmistakably , so unrepudiably, in my body, shaping and curving me for the destiny of the female, and for the lustful, appraising eyes of men."

I regarded her, not speaking.

"I am afraid to be feminine!" she said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because," she wept, "I sense that it is, ultimately, to be the slave of men."

"You desired to prove your aunt wrong," I said.

"Yes," she said. "I would prove that I was independent, that I was capable, that I could achieve success on my own. My talents would be obvious. I would be hired promptly. I would be rapidly advanced. I would become a female executive. That would show my aunt! That would show myself! That would show men!"

"What happened?" I asked.

"I took money and left home," she said. "I scarcely informed my family as to my decision or whereabouts. I went to a great city. It is called New York. I rented expensive quarters. Confidently, I sought a significant position business."

"And then?" I asked.

"Alas," she said, ruefully, "I found my credentials sorely lacking. I could find no work of the sort in which I was interested. "

"I see," I said.

"After weeks of misery and frustration," she said, "I contacted my family. A position was immediately arranged for me.

"I see," I said.

"It was not, however, at all, what I had hoped for," she said. "I became, in effect, the secretary to a female executive, her 'girl' in the office. She took charge of me and, in effect, prescribed my mode of dress and behavior."

"It was largely due to her, then," I said, "that you wore the attractive garments you did, when you were stripped for the buyers at the house of Ram Seibar?"

"Yes," she said, "and she even prescribed that the pearls I wore must be synthetic, as being more befitting than real pearls a girl in my position."

"I see," I said. "Did you protest this?"

"I did not wish to lose my job," she said.

"I see," I said. I was pleased to learn that she had not worn the false pearls of her own volition. That would surely mitigate her culpability in the matter, at least to some extent, in Gorean eyes. She had, of course, agreed to wear them. That they might regard as important. That agreement, of course, had been formed, in a sense, under duress. The Goreans, on the whole a fair folk, would doubtless take that into consideration. The degree of duress might be regarded as significant. The matter was surely subtle. Grunt, in any case, as I knew him, would not be interested in punishing her for that action, as it had taken place when she was free. That life was behind her now. Her whippings, now, doubtless, would be functions of such things as whether or not she was sufficiently pleasing as a female slave. Still, I would inform Grunt of this development. He would find it of interest. Masters find almost everything about their slaves of interest. Too, it would please him.

"And so," she said, "I continued to run her errands, to answer her telephone in a pretty voice, to do her biding, to bring her her coffee, to address her deferentially, to smile at her clients and walk in a certain way past them."

"I understand," I said.

"Doubtless she enjoyed having me do this," she said, bitterly, "my station in society having been so superior to hers."

"Perhaps," I said. "I do not know."

"It was to be made clear to all her colleagues," she said, angrily, "that I was only a girl, fit for lowly labors and being pleasing to her superiors. Clearly I was a different sort of woman from her!''

"Perhaps you were," I said.

"Dressed as I was, forced to behave as I was," she said, "how could men see me as executive material?"

"Doubtless it would be difficult," I said.

"Yes," she said.

"You are very feminine," I said, "perhaps you are not executive material."

She squirmed, angrily.

"She well used my femininity, my meaninglessness, MY prettiness," she said, "to highlight, to point up and accentuate, by contrast, her own quite different image, that of strength and competence, of decisiveness, of command, of authority and power."

I have seen such women naked," I said, "in a collar, kissing the feet of men."

"Oh?" she said.

"But they are not so beautiful as you," I said.

She was silent.

"Do you feel that your treatment by her was motivated by some insecurity on her part, by fear for her position or status, that she may have seen you as a threat?"

The girl was silent for a moment. Then she said, "No, I do not think so."

"That is interesting," I said.

"I could not have begun to compete with her," she said.

"You were not that sort of woman," I said.

"No," she said.

"Do you think she disliked you, or hated you?" I asked.

"I don't think so, really," she said, slowly.

"Can you conceive it possible that she may have seen you rather more as you were, than as you saw yourself?"

"Master?" she asked.

"She may have dressed you as she did," I said, "and treated you as she did, and made you do the things you did, for a very good reason."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because you are feminine," I said.

She was angrily silent.

"Did you enjoy doing the things you were told?" I asked. "Did you enjoy obeying?"

"Sometimes," she whispered.

"Did you object, truly, to the clothing you were expected to wear?" I asked.

"No," she said, "not truly. I like pretty clothes, and the, eyes of men on me."

"As a Gorean slave girl," I said, "you will often find the eyes of men on you, though whether or not you will be permitted clothing will be a function of the decision of your master."

"Yes, Master," she said.

"How were you taken?" I asked.

"After work," she said. "It was dark. I was driving back to my building. I stopped at a red light. Suddenly, to my horror, a narrow chain was looped about my throat. 'Drive as I direct,' said a male voice, from behind me. I could not scream. The chain was tight. I was terrified. He had been hidden in the car, behind the back seat. He tightened the chain a quarter of an inch. I could not breathe. I realized he could, if he wished, strangle me in an instant. A car honked behind us. "The light has changed,' be said. He relaxed the chain, slightly. 'Continue on this street,' he said, 'in the outside lane, at a speed not exceeding twenty-five miles an hour.' I pulled away from the intersection. 'You will obey all my directions,' he said, 'immediately and to the letter, and you will address me as "Sir." ' 'Yes,' I whispered. The chain tightened. 'Yes, Sir,' I whispered, fighting for breath. The chain then relaxed, slightly."

"You were already being taught to obey, and to treat men with respect," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said. " 'Do not try anything foolish" he said, 'such as stalling or damaging the vehicle, for I can slay in an instant, before I make my departure.' 'Yes, Sir,' I said. 'You may look in the rear-view mirror, if you wish.' He said. 'You have my permission.' I looked in the rear-view mirror, terrified. About my throat, closely looped, was a narrow golden chain. It was controlled by two narrow wooden handles, in his hands."

"It was a girl-capture chain," I said. "It is to be distinguished sharply from the standard garrote, which is armed with wire and can cut a throat easily. The standard garrote, of course, is impractical for captures, for the victim, in even a reflexive movement, might cut her own throat."

"Whatever it was," she said, "it was very effective. It controlled me perfectly."

"Of course," I said. "That is why it is used."

"In a few moments, the man made an adjustment in the chain, spinning one of the wooden handles. He could the control it with one hand. He tightened it, half choking me and then released it, slightly. He had well displayed his power over me. He then released it a bit more. 'That's better, isn't it, Baby?' he asked. 'Yes, Sir,' I said. 'Good," he said, 'we have a long drive ahead of us.' We then drove on, I terrified, he giving me directions. From other can it would have seemed merely that a man, leaning forward, perhaps smiling, perhaps conversing with me, was in the back of my vehicle. If any saw the slender golden chain about my throat they did not, doubtless, conjecture its significance."

"He was not masked?" I asked.

"No," she said.

"A mask would have aroused suspicion," I said.

"Yes," she said. "'Do not fear to look upon my face, you wish,' he said, 'for you will not see it again, after you have been delivered.' 'Delivered!' I exclaimed. 'Yes,' he laughed, 'delivered, my pretty goods.' We then drove on. He let me engage in what, I suppose, are the standard threat and pleas of the captured girl, but, then, when he grew we of this amusement, he stopped me. A slight pressure on chain sufficed. We then continued to drive on. The terrain became more remote, more desolate. Soon we were driving on graveled roads. Then we were driving on dirt roads, dark and lonely lined with trees. I grasped very little of what was going on. I was terrified. The chain was on my throat. The beams from the headlights seemed wild on the road ahead of me. 'Slow down here,' he said, 'and pull into those trees, an stop.' I obeyed his commands. I switched off the car lights and turned off the car engine. I had delivered myself, though to whom, or what, or for what I had no idea. He took me from the car by the chain and soon I was in the hands of other men. He left, dropping the chain, with its handles, in the pocket of his jacket. I was thrown to my stomach in the grass. My hands were fastened behind me in some sort of metal restraining device. It was snug, and inflexible. My ankles were crossed and tied together with a short piece of rope. A metal anklet of some sort was fastened on my left ankle.

"A girls identificatory anklet," I said. "It is removed after her delivery to Gor."