Kur of Gor coc-28 Page 9

  Too, she thought then to herself, perhaps I can make use of this. I am a female, and he is only a man.

  Then she continued to feed.

  He liked the way her hair now fell to the sides of her neck. He could see the base of her bowed neck, with the short, fine hairs there. He considered what it would look like in a slave collar. It is there, at the back of the neck, incidentally, that the collar commonly closes and locks. If the collar is to be changed, the male does so from behind the girl. This helps her to keep in mind that she is a slave. If a new collar is to be placed on the girl this is commonly done before the old one is removed. If a girl is between collars, or is being fitted, or such, she is commonly bound hand and foot. Her limbs may be freed, of course, once she is again in a collar. Aesthetic and psychological features are commonly involved, as well, in these matters. With the lock in the back, as the girl, and others, might be most commonly expected to see the collar, the enclosing, encircling aspect of the band is most prominent, this suggesting an uncompromising security and irremovability. The common Gorean slave band, incidentally, even in its simplicity, flat, narrow, and close-fitting, is quite beautiful on a woman. In certain cultures one supposes women might pay a great deal of money to obtain such a device, though perhaps one more akin to those one might expect to find on high slaves, say, colored, enameled, ringed, bejeweled, of precious metals, and such. On Gor, of course, these collars, at least the simple ones, sell for a pittance, and even common slaves are routinely fastened in them. Indeed, this is required by Merchant Law. Clearly, all in all, the collar is an attractive device which much enhances the beauty of a woman. But doubtless its most significant aspect is its meaning, that its occupant is a property, that she is owned.

  He again gave her food.

  Her hair was not short, but it was not of a common slave length either. But, he thought, it will grow out.

  Then, he fed her again. Then he desisted, despite her plea for more. In his view she had fed sufficiently. The diet of slave girls is closely supervised, as that of any other animal one wishes to keep in prime condition. She was not a slave girl, of course, but it pleased him to decide when she had had enough. Also the blonde had had only three helpings, too, so to speak. Indeed when the blonde had understood that the brunette was asking for a fourth helping she became quite agitated, bared her small canines, and hissed menacingly. Tarl Cabot growled softly at the blonde, who then subsided. She understood the purport of such noises. The brunette, pleased at this, requested more food, again, but was denied her wish. Seldom one supposes had she failed before to obtain her way. But this was not her familiar world. Things here were quite different. She did, however, rejoice that the male, at least as of now, stood between her and the frightening little thing with which they were sharing the container.

  She watched the male then, as he fed.

  It did not seem there was much left. He wiped his mouth with his right forearm. She wondered if, the next time, were there a next time, the food might be rationed differently.

  How lean and strong seemed the male to her.

  She would have muchly preferred that the blonde had not been there, of course, for she feared her, but there may have been another reason, as well, one that she might have been more reluctant to acknowledge.

  Too, she would not have cared to have discovered herself alone in the container. Bewildered, confused, she might have literally lost her mind. In her present situation there was in her proximity at least another human, for the male clearly was human, who was similarly incarcerated, and, moreover, one who could speak her language, who would try to comfort her, assuage her fears, and such.

  Too, in his presence she felt strange sensations.

  He seemed to her stronger, and more powerful, than any male she had hitherto met.

  He is crude, and rugged, but not unattractive, she mused.

  Indeed, in some moments, she felt herself absolutely weak before him, and had sensed that she would be helpless in his arms.

  Indeed, had she not had dreams in which she was helpless, eager, and begging in the arms of men less than he, strange dreams in which she had found that the throat of her heated, mottled, thrashing body had been confined, however inexplicably, within a close-fitting, irremovable metal circlet?

  She regarded the blonde.

  She would certainly fear to be alone with the feral little savage, but, happily, she was not alone with her. Had she been alone with her, and unable to flee, she would have made herself small, groveled, whimpered, and begged for mercy. She would have done her best to assure her, cringing, terrified and pleading, not only that she constituted no threat to her but that she would try to avoid her to the best of her ability and, in any disputed matters, would instantly retire and yield her first place. Such behaviors, though the brunette might not have cared to recall the point, given her class, her social background, the excellence of her education, the quality of her diction, and such, were common in the animal kingdom. But she had little fear of the blonde now, for the male, she was sure, would protect her. She needed only to ingratiate herself with him, and that should not be difficult. She had always had her way with men, and, too, had she not sensed, though to her indignation, how he had viewed her while feeding her? She knew she was a female of high intelligence, and she was quite well aware that she was also one of unusual attractiveness. Yes, he would protect her. Any male, she was sure, with a bit of attention on her part, and perhaps a little thought, and a smile, or two, could be entangled helplessly within the net of her wiles. She had always had whatever she wanted of men, and he was a man. He would be no different.

  Perhaps she might even permit him to kiss her.

  She might find that interesting.

  She wondered what it might be to be kissed by him.

  She had been kissed before, of course, once or twice, by men of Earth, as much as an experiment as anything else. In both cases she had pretended shock and indignation.

  That had disconcerted them, and taken them off guard. Both had stammered, and apologized.

  Secretly she had been much amused.

  What inane twits they were!

  She could have had both well in hand after that, but neither had any longer been of interest to her.

  Their subsequent invitations were declined.

  She had found the men of Earth weak and boring.

  She was certain that he with whom she was incarcerated was not physically weak, but then, too, some men of Earth were physically strong, irritatingly so. But even the strongest men of Earth, she had discovered, were psychologically weak, presumably as a consequence of their conditioning programs, designed to thwart and tame them, or, with some effort, she was sure, could be made so, even pathetically so. She wondered if her fellow prisoner was psychologically weak. If not, she was sure she could soon make him so, by turning his own strength against him, by dividing him emotionally, and by arranging self-conflicts which would bring him, his own confused enemy, to an uncertain and anxious balance, where she might, by as little as a breath, so to speak, move him to her will.

  Were men not made to be wrapped about the smallest finger of a beautiful woman?

  And was she not beautiful?

  At that time she was not familiar with how common beauty is on Gor, and how it may be easily purchased in the markets.

  She smiled to herself. She had always had whatever she wanted of men, even as a pretty little girl, even before her face and body, advancing through its teens, had become, as now, disturbingly, tormentingly, desirable, suitable for fastening in a slave coffle.

  Always she had been able to manipulate and control men, by a word, a tone of voice, a smile, a frown, a tear.

  It would be no different with this male, he with whom she shared this inexplicable, eccentric, bizarre confinement.

  Her sex, and her beauty, had always proved reliable instruments, and weapons.

  They would so now.

  The male in the container was a man, and he would be no different f
rom the others.

  She did not understand, of course, that he, despite his familiarity, as she had discovered, with her language, was unlike the men with whom she had hitherto been acquainted.

  He was of the Warriors; he knew battle; he knew the sea; he knew the great bow, and the blade.

  Too, she was quite unfamiliar with Gorean males, and how they viewed women, in particular those with whom they do not share Home Stones.

  Their acculturation had not been that of Earth, but one quite different, one far more consistent and healthy, one far more natural.

  Nothing had prepared her, you see, for the men of Gor.

  And this large, strong man was no longer of Earth. He was now of Gor.

  How could it even occur to her that Gorean men would look upon such as she and see her not in terms of her breeding, education, position, and background but in terms of the slave tunic and chain, in terms of the whip and collar?

  Did she not know that such as she were put barefoot and naked on the sawdust of the slave block and routinely auctioned to the highest bidder?

  Comfortable with her assumed power, and confident that she would be protected by the male in the container, she cast a glance of lofty disdain at the blonde. Did the blonde not even know enough to cover herself, as did the brunette, at least to the extent possible?

  Many facial expressions and bodily words, so to speak, in the human species are presumably genetically coded, at least with respect to their templates, as they are amongst other Earth primates, for they seem, for the most part, to be easily interpreted amongst diverse linguistic and cultural groups, for example, expressions of contentment, of jealousy, of pride, of pleasure, of satisfaction, of suspicion, of anger, and so on. In any event, whether in virtue of these species characteristics, or in virtue of her experiences in her Steel World, the blonde took instant umbrage at the brunette's expression, and bared her canines and hissed viciously at the brunette, who drew back, frightened.

  The male put out his hand and pressed the blonde back who, hands raised, and fingers crooked, was clearly on the verge of attacking the brunette.

  The male apparently made soothing sounds to the blonde, as she had no language, who then crouched down beside him, docilely, looking up at him.

  He shook her head, good-naturedly, and she put her head gently against him. She had done this often with her master.

  Then, looking at him, timidly, she licked his knee.

  The brunette looked upon this display of tenderness with severe disapproval, but the male did not deter or punish the little animal.

  Rather he smiled at the brunette, who gasped in indignation. Apparently the brute had no intention of prohibiting the blonde from engaging in such disgusting exhibitions of ingratiation.

  What sort of man could he be?

  Was he even a man, as she had known men?

  Perhaps he was something far more masculine, more virile and dangerous, more dominant?

  What then might be the relation of such a man to a woman?

  Perhaps he was the sort of man who would simply master a woman?

  She thought of herself as mastered, and shuddered, with pleasure.

  Then she cast such thoughts from herself, indignantly.

  Surely she was not such that she could be mastered! She was educated, and civilized, and such!

  But what if it was done to her?

  Her dreams had left her in no doubt that it could be done to her, and with perfection.

  Surely she would fear the whip.

  She would be choiceless.

  Never before had she encountered such a man.

  Could she be longing for a master?

  Was that what it was to be a woman, to be a slave?

  Then she, a civilized beauty of station, position, and class, the young, spoiled, pampered, proud, self-righteous scion of a pathological acculturation, put aside such thoughts as offensive and absurd, and considered her present predicament and vulnerability.

  She was imprisoned, helplessly, perfectly, why or how she had no idea. She had no evidence, even, of the number or nature of her captors, or owners.

  She looked at the heavy, glassine walls, closely curving about her, within whose compass she and the others were confined.

  She was a member of a miniscule social group, in a tiny, inescapable environment, subject to a technological ecology she was incapable of altering. What might be the social relations in such a world, in such a small, stout, encircling, transparent world?

  And what might be the consequences to herself of these social relations?

  She became extremely frightened. What if she were marginalized, or neglected? What if the little animal should become, so to speak, his favorite? How would this affect her plans, her role, in this tiny space? There was a single male, and two females.

  Must she not somehow compete for his favor?

  At this point, she seemed to speak to him, but in response she received only his smile, which disconcerted her.

  She then drew back, miserably, against the wall of the thick, glassine barrier, and, for some time, watched the little blonde, with her soft, pink tongue, licking at the male's knee.

  She became more and more agitated.

  She seems then to have said something to Tarl Cabot, which displeased him, for he seems to have spoken back to her, sharply.

  She then, upset, drew back, again.

  Perhaps no man had spoken to her in that fashion before.

  She began to cry.

  He paid her no attention.

  Later, she seems to have said something to him again, but he only shrugged, noncommittally.

  She tried to plead with him, it seemed, but he looked away.

  Tears stained her cheeks.

  Had she been found displeasing?

  Never had that happened before.

  Clearly then she understood, perhaps as never before, save in her dreams, her femaleness in relation to a male's maleness, that she was a female, and that she, if she would please, or even survive, had best relate to the male as a female.

  She was startled.

  He was dominant.

  Never before had she sensed a male dominant over her, but she sensed it now.

  He controlled the container, or could, if he wished.

  It must have been clear to her then that she might be isolated, excluded, that her standing in this tiny world might be in jeopardy.

  What if she were not fed?

  Then, after a time, the brunette, covering her breasts, as she could, with one arm, put out her hand and took one of the hands of Tarl Cabot.

  Looking at him, she drew it timidly to her mouth, and, putting her head down, began to lick at its palm, perhaps to obtain any residue of the gelatinous provender which it had hitherto held.

  Then she looked up at him, frightened, and then, again, submissively, put her head down and licked his palm.

  Could she at one time have even conceived of herself doing this?

  Could it be she, behaving so?

  Oddly, she felt sexually enflamed.

  She was trying to please a male.

  How would the males she had hitherto known react to this, those she had treated with such coolness, with such contempt and condescension, whom she had routinely disdained, belittled, and spurned, whom she had treated as so much beneath her, to whom she had postured herself as their lofty, haughty superior, seeing her naked, fearful, degraded, attempting to please a male? Would they not have cried out with pleasure, and perhaps removed their belts, that they might have served as whips?

  Tarl Cabot did not withdraw his hand, but he looked at her, closely. Slaves sometimes try to call themselves so to the attention of their master. It was a slave's gesture, a slave's act. Cabot wondered if she knew what she was doing. It is erotic, of course, to feel that soft tongue in the palm of one's hand. It, too, this gesture or act, is often used not simply as a device of placation, but as a way of petitioning to be caressed.

  The blonde, half asleep, conte
nted, did not even object to the brunette's solicitation, her apology, and begging for forgiveness.

  The brunette was then, in her view, no more than another pet. And she was not concerned at the moment, in her own contentment, with driving her away.

  The male put his left hand on the brunette's forehead and, holding it in place, gently drew his right hand away.

  The brunette looked up, timidly.

  He smiled at her, and she put her head down, quickly, beside his leg. He then gently drew her hands apart that she, kneeling now beside him, need no longer prolong her pretense of modesty, so out of place in their tiny world, that she need no longer struggle so absurdly to hide her beauty from him.

  She did not then grasp herself as before, in that preposterous fashion, trying to conceal herself from him, for he had seemed to discountenance it, but she did press herself against his leg, putting her head down, so that he could not see the full slave of her.

  This amused him.

  Did she not know that he could seize her, and hold her, and turn her, and examine her, minutely, and then, his assessment done, discard her, casting her to the side of the container as one might a slave?

  But he recalled she was a free woman.

  She looked up at him, timidly, tears in her eyes. And then put her head down and softly licked the side of his leg. She then put up her head again, timidly, to see his reaction.

  It was the sort of thing a slave might do.

  Would her solicitation be accepted, or might he be annoyed, and cuff her from his leg?

  He put his hand gently on her hair, and then she felt, in a moment, his hand close within her hair, holding it, tightly.

  She was helpless.

  She winced.

  He seemed to struggle with himself. He wants me, she thought, trying to hold her head very still, quite aware that if she made any sudden movement or made the least attempt to escape, it would hurt even more, and that he, if he wished, with a mere tightening or twist, could subject her to the torment of hundreds of tiny scalding knives of pain, to avoid which she would do anything. Then he released her hair. She was, after all, a free woman.

  She crouched as she could in the container, against his leg.