John Norman - Beasts of Gor

She looked up at me, tears in her eyes. “All my wealth on Earth,” she said, “could not buy me a collar, or a brand. Here I have nothing and yet they will be put upon me, because men please to do so.”

“Yes,” I said.

“Brand me,” she said.

“I will,” I said.

“I dare not ask your collar,” she said. “After I am branded discard me or sell me, if you will. I shall always remember with joy the moment of pain in which I knew that I, though only a lowly slave, had been found worthy of your iron.”

“I will keep you for a time, at least, in my collar,” I said. “You are not without interest as a female slave. My men may find you amusing. And perhaps I will occasionally permit you to serve me in my quarters.”

“Thank you, Master,” she said,

“Then I think I will sell you,” I said. “I think you will profit from knowing many masters, and many slaveries, for you are superb and exquisite slave meat.”

“Thank you, Master,” she said.

I went to Arlene, who led the coffle. The double line looped up to her throat from the left-hand, rear upright of the sled.

She looked up at me. I brushed the hood, fur-trimmed, back about her shoulders. How incredibly beautiful she was. There was a light snow about. Some of the snow fell in her hair. I brushed back some hair from the left side of her face.

“My thigh has not been marked,” she said. “Will Master brand me, too, in Port Kar?”

“Yes,” I said.

“A girl is pleased,” she said.

“Truly?” I asked, holding her head between my hands.

“Yes,” she said, “it is a great honor for a girl to be branded by a Warrior, and one who is a Captain.”

I shrugged. I supposed, objectively, what she said was true. I was of a high caste, that of the Warriors, and was a captain. A boast among slave girls Is “My brand was put upon me by a Warrior.” Another is, “I was found beautiful enough for a Warrior to brand!”

Suddenly she held me, closely. “Oh, Master,” she wept, “it has nothing to do, truly, with caste. It has to do, rather, with the kind of man you are. You could be a Peasant, an Iron Worker. It would not matter. When you look at a girl she wants your brand. When your eyes fall upon a girl she wants to be your slave. Girls dream of being branded by a man such as you. We dream of being the slaves of men such as you.”

“Those are the dreams of slave girls,” I said.

“Of course,” she said.

“Slave girls should beware of speaking their dreams,” I said, “lest they be overheard by a master.”

“Every slave girl should boldly speak her dream,” she said.

“But a master may be listening,” I said.

“Let us hope, for her sake, that he is,” said she. “Why else should a slave girl cry out, if not to be overheard by a master?”

“I find women mysterious,” I said.

“The answer to our riddle,” she said, “is a strong man, and a collar.”

“I think it is true,” I said.

“I had no real choice,” she said, “In the snow you made me a slave.”

“Of course,” I said.

“I love you for it,” she said, “—Master.” I kissed her, gently, on the lips. She looked up at me, her eyes moist. “Will you keep me?” she asked.

“For a time, perhaps,” I said.

“Yes,” she said, ruefully, “I know—perhaps to amuse your men, and perhaps occasionally, if you are so moved, to serve you in the furs.”

“Perhaps,” I said.

“And then perhaps you will sell me,” she said.

“Perhaps,” I said.

“And then I would have to go to whom I am sold, and serve him—and as a complete slave, in the fullest sense of the word.”

“Of course,” I said.

“My own desires and feelings would be meaningless,” she said.

“Of course,” I said. “You are a slave.”

“Yes,” she said, “I am a slave.” She wiped a tear away from her cheek. “Doubtless,” she laughed, “I, like Audrey, would profit from many masters, and many slaveries.”

“Doubtless,” I agreed.

“For I, like Audrey,” she asked, “am superb, exquisite slave meat?”

“Yes,” I said.

“On Earth I was nothing,” she said. “Here, at least, I am valued for my qualities as a slave.”

“In so far as a girl has value,” I said.

“Yes,” she said, “—so far as a girl has value.” Suddenly her eyes flashed, “Surely I would bring a high price!” she said.

“You could, currently,” I said, “be bought and sold for a handful of copper coins.”

“Oh,” she said.

“You are untrained,” I pointed out

She bit her lip.

“But I would see that you had a bit of training before I would put you on the block,” I said.

“It would help me survive,” she said.

“Yes,” I said. “It would also raise your price.”

“I see,” she said.

“There is in you, and in these other girls,” I said, surveying the coffle, “a superb love slave. If you pass through many hands, and many slaveries, your chance of being acquired by one who will be to you your true love master is much increased.”

“Do you sell us because you are cruel, or because you are kind?” she asked.

“If I sell you,” I said, “it will be done as I wish, when I wish, and because I wish.”

“Yes, Master,” she said, putting her head down.

“I could sell you to make money,” I said. “I could sell you because I am tired of you. I could sell you because it amused me. I could sell you because I would be curious to see what you would look like standing naked in the sawdust on an auction block.”

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“I have sold girls for all of those reasons, and many others,” I said.

“Of course, Master,” she said. “Forgive me. We are slaves.”

I pulled the hood of her parka up, over her head. “Fasten the hood,” I said. “The trek will be cold.”

“Yes, Master,” she said.

I lightly kissed her lips. Our lips, momentarily, lingered together. Then I took her fully in my arms, and lengthily kissed her. “I will try to be pleasing to you, Master,” she said.

I heard the sleen scratching at the ice. Ram coughed. The red hunters set their snittened hands to the uprights on their sleds.

“Be silent, Slave,” I said, pushing her from me.

“Yes, Master,” she said. She stumbled back, the double coffle line on her neck.

I turned about, to look once more behind me. It is a trick of red hunters, to see what the return journey will look like. But I did not think I would come this way again.

I saw the ice of the polar sea, and the stars, and the feasting house, within which Imnak sang.

Then I turned about and lifted my arm. To my left, in the east, was the first, tiniest glimmering of light, a dawn that would begin the long day of the arctic spring and summer. The night was over.

I lowered my arm. “On!” I said. “On!” The eight sleds left the area of the camp. I moved behind the sled. The girls, behind the sled, and to its left, moved with me.

Our departure was not noticed.