Slave Girl of Gor (38 page)

I extended my wrists, crossed, to Bran Loort. "Bind me," I said, "and take me to my master."

He smiled.

I trembled, and shrank back before him, almost into the arms of one of his brawny young cohorts.

"Are you going to rape me, Bran Loort?" I asked.

"And more," said he.

"Thurnus will not be pleased," I said.

"Tonight," he said, "you will belong to me."

"I do not understand," I said.

"Tonight," he said, "you will be a feast and a festival to us, Dina."

I trembled.

"Hold her," said Bran Loort.

Two boys held my arms.

"Ankle-leash her, both ankles," he said. This was done. I stood before them, ropes on my ankles.

"Put your arms at your sides," said Bran Loort, "out a bit from your body."

I did so.

I then stood before them, double wrist-leashed, ropes placed knotted on my wrists. The ropes on my wrists and ankles, serving as leashes, were cut from the coils of rope brought to the field. The remainders of the coils swung in the hands of Bran Loort and one of his cohorts. I knew I might be beaten with them.

"You will obey," said Bran Loort.

"Yes, Master," I said.

"Remove your kerchief," he said.

I lifted my leashed wrists and pulled away the kerchief, shading my head, freeing my hair.

"Pretty," said one of the boys.

"Tear the kerchief," said Bran Loort.

"Please," I said. I did not wish to destroy the kerchief. It. like the girl, Dina, whom I was, belonged to my master. Dina was responsible for it. The master might not be pleased if it were torn or soiled. Dina might be beaten.

"Tear it," said Bran Loort. I, with difficulty, tore the kerchief, the boys amused at my weakness.

"Drop it upon the ground and, step upon it, grinding it into the dirt," said Bran Loort.

I did so, with the heel of my leashed foot. I was sure now that I would be beaten upon my return to the village.

I looked at the boys. I realized, suddenly, I had more to fear from them than from the swift switch of an angry Thurnus or Melina. Their eyes terrified me. My limbs were leashed. I stood alone among them, their prisoner.

I knew I must please them.

"Are you docile and cooperative?" asked Bran Loort.

"Yes, Master," I whispered.

"Strip," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said. I reached to pull the coarse, brief tunic over my head. I hoped they would be soon done with me.

But my hands, held by the ropes on my wrists, could not reach the bottom of the tunic. My fingers struggled to reach it, but an inch from its wool, clinging about my thighs. I tried again to seize the tunic but was prohibited by the ropes from doing so. I looked at Bran Loort in alarm, in protest.

"Strip," he said. He swung the coil of rope which he carried, whiplike, easily in his hand. Behind me there was another lad, with such a coil of rope.

Wildly I tried to seize the garment, to pull it over my head, but the boys would not let me touch it. I struggled to get my fingers on the white, coarse wool, but I could not reach it.

"Are you docile and cooperative?" asked Bran Loort.

"Yes, Master!" I cried. "Yes, Master!"

"Strip," he said.

Again I tried to reach the garment but again was not permitted to do so. Then I tried to seize the garment at the neck and tear it away but the boys would not let my hands reach the garment.

"You are a rebellious slave," said Bran Loort.

"No, Master!" I cried.

"Obey then," he said.

I tried again to tear away the garment. Again I was not permitted to do so.

"Rebellious slave," said Bran Loort.

Suddenly the rope, coiled, held by the boy behind me, hissed and cut into the back of my thighs.

"Oh," I cried.

At the same time Bran Loort himself struck down at me with the rope he carried, striking me across the shoulder and neck.

The boys yanked the ropes on my ankles, and, by their means, and by means of those held by the other two boys, those fastened on my wrists, I was turned and thrown to my stomach, in the dirt, spread-eagled.

Bran Loort and the other lad struck me again and again with the ropes they carried and then I, sobbing, cut by the ropes, marked even through the tunic, was, by the leashes on my limbs pulled to a kneeling position before him, my arms held out from my sides. There was dirt on the side of my face and on my body, blackening and staining the sweat-soaked tunic. I could taste dirt in my mouth.

"Bring her," said Bran Loort.

I was jerked to my feet by the ropes on my wrists and stumbling, dragged among them, was conducted from the ml field. The ruined kerchief and the hoe lay behind.

Many are the clever things which may be done to a girl who is, as I was, fully limb-leashed. Much sport had the cruel peasant boys with me. They made me fall when they pleased, and as they pleased; sometimes they threw me forward, sometimes backward; sometimes they carried me, face up or face down, suspended between them: sometimes they dragged me by an ankle or a wrist on my back or stomach, or twisting; sometimes they dragged me or made me walk where they wished, though it might be through rocks or gravel.

I did not know if I could live, so led.

We stopped once. I was still clothed at .that time. I was held by the ropes before Bran Loort. I was covered with sweat and dirt; I was gasping; I was trembling, shaken with muscular stress from the cruel march, as well as with fear, knowing myself fully in their hands, not knowing what fate they might choose to inflict upon me. We stood in the vicinity of a thicket of thorn brush, of the sort which is occasionally used to wall camps.

"You are still clothed," said Bran Loort observing me.

"Let me tear away my clothes before you," I begged, "that the beauty of a poor slave girl may be bared to you."

"Do so," he said.

I cried out in anguish. Again the ropes would not let me strip myself.

"You have apparently not yet learned your lesson," he said.

"Please, Master!" I wept.

"Let the thorn brush strip her," said Bran Loort.

"No!" I cried.

By the ropes I was dragged into the midst of tenacious, barbed brush, that thicket of such. I screamed with misery. I begged mercy. I was shown none. The brush tore at my clothing and body. Rudely I was drawn through it. I cried out, throwing my head from side to side. I kept my eyes closed, that I be not blinded. "Please, Masters!" I cried. They did not see fit to show a girl mercy. Bloodied, my body a welter of scratches and linear wounds, I was pulled from the brush. The Earth-girl slave was now naked.

They hit me with the ropes and again we continued our journey. They sang as they conducted me to the place of their feast, on the grass by the stream.

There they held my wrists about a tree and, striking many times, put me under rope-discipline. Held against the tree, feeling its bark with the side of my cheek, weeping, shuddering under the blows of the coiled rope, I wondered what I had done to them that they should be so cruel to me.

They then took me and threw me to the grass on my back. My ankles, by the rope leashes tied on them, held by two boys, were pulled widely apart. Bran Loort looked down upon me.

I realized then that I, a slave girl, had, days ago, eluded them in the game of girl catch. I had, in that game, by my cleverness, bested them. I did not now feel clever. I would now pay for my cleverness. How foolish of a slave girl to attempt to best a free man. Does she not know she may someday come into his ownership!

I cried out. Bran Loort was the first to have me.

"Come out, Thurnus!" called Bran Loort. "See what I have for you."

I lay at the feet of Bran Loort, my knees drawn up, on my side in the dirt. My hands were tied behind my back. I was naked, and my body was covered with dried blood and dirt. A rope, knotted, ran from my neck to his hand. My cheek was in the dust. I was cold, and my body ached, from the rope beatings and abuse to which it had been subjected. I think I was partly in shock. I could no longer cry. The only flicker of feeling left in me was a fear of free men. I, a slave girl, had once bested free men in the game of girl catch. I had learned my lesson well. Never again would I try to best free men. They were master. I was slave.

"Come out, Thurnus!" called Bran Loort. "See what I have for you!"

My head jerked as Bran Loort, emphasizing his words, drew on the rope tied on my neck. I put my head down, shoulders trembling.

"Thurnus! Come out!" cried Bran Loort.

I shuddered.

I lay in the dirt before the hut of Thurnus.

It was night now, and men stood about, with torches. There were the eight young men of Bran Loort, and others, too, gathered from the village. The free men and women were there, and some slaves, not yet caged for the night. Sandal Thong was there, and Turnip, and Verr Tail and Radish. Melina had wanted them to see what was to occur. There were no children present. Bran Loort stood forward, his staff in his left hand, my neck rope in his right. His eight young men stood near to him, each with his staff. Ringing us were villagers and slaves. All eyes turned to the doorway of Thurnus's hut. Melina emerged from the hut and descended the stairs to the ground. Thurnus's hut was near to the center of the village, near its clearing. I could smell the sleen in the cool, night air. It was chilly.

My back and legs were covered with welts from the rope lashings I had been given. My thighs were sore.

Melina stood at the bottom of the stairs. She, too, turned to face the opening.

I looked at Bran Loort. He looked very splendid, proud and strong, a girl's neck rope in his hand, she, proof of his manhood, at his feet. The staff he held was over six feet in length and some two to three inches in width. "I am going to be first in Tabuk's Ford," had Bran Loort once said to me. I recalled, too, something else he had said. "When I am first," he had said, "Melina will give you to me."

"Come out, Thurnus," called Melina, from the foot of the stairs below the hut.

I looked to the doorway of the hut. It was dark, empty.

The eyes of all looked at the opening to the hut.

Thurnus did not appear.

Men stood about, with torches. It was silent, save for the crackle of the torches. I lay bound. The ropes on my wrists, holding them closely behind my back, were very tight.

I heard a sleen squeal from some eighty yards away, behind the huts, in the cage areas.

There was a change in the breathing of the crowd. Thurnus stood now in the entrance to his hut.

"Geetings, Thurnus," called Bran Loort.

"Greetings, Bran Loort," said Thurnus.

Bran Loort's heavily sandaled foot struck into my belly. I cried out with pain.

"On your knees, Slave Girl," said Bran Loort.

I struggled to my knees. He took up the slack in the neck rope, coiling it, holding my head a foot from his thigh. My vision blurred, and then cleared. I saw Thurnus looking down at me.

He regarded me.

Much and well had the young men of Tabuk's Ford pleasured themselves with the girl from Earth, the former Judy Thornton, now the helpless Gorean slave girl, Dina.

I put my head down, under the gaze of my master. But I was not to be permitted this courtesy. The rope, Bran Loort's fist in it, at my neck, the knot, under the left side of my jaw, pulled my head up.

I was to be displayed to Thurnus.

"I have something here of yours," said Bran Loort.

"I see," said Thurnus.

"She is a hot little slave," he said, "juicy and pretty."

"That is known to me." said Thurnus.

"She kneels now at my feet," said Bran Loort.

"I see that, Bran Loort," said Thumus.

Swiftly Bran Loort then discarded the rope and, with his foot, thrust me to one side. I fell sprawling in the dirt, and turned, lying on one side, to watch.

Bran Loort stood with both hands on his staff, one hand grasped in its center, the other hand, his left, some eighteen inches below the center of the staff. But Thurnus had not moved.

No one stirred in the crowd. I heard the crackle of the torches.

Bran Loort seemed for a moment unsteady. He looked from one of his cohorts to another.

Then he again turned to face Thurnus, who stood, not speaking, at the height of the stairs, some six or seven feet above the level of the ground, in the doorway to his hut.

"I have abused your slave," said Bran Loort.

"That is what slaves are for," said Thurnus.

"We took much pleasure in her!" said Bran Loort, angrily.

"Did you find her pleasing?" asked Thurnus.

"Yes," said Bran Loort. He gripped the long, heavy staff more firmly, standing ready.

"Then," said Thurnus, "it will not be necessary for me to beat or slay her."