John Norman - Beasts of Gor

She was frightened.

“We have time,” I said.

“What weight can the tarn carry?” asked Ram.

“It is strong,” I said. “It can carry, if need be, a rider and freighted tarn basket.”

“Might I then request passage?” he smiled.

“It is yours,” I said.

I rolled the furs in which Constance had lain, and put them across the back of the saddle, fastening the two straps which held them.

We could hear the sleen cries quite clearly now. I do not think they were more than a pasang away.

“This ring,” I said to Ram, pointing to a ring at the left of the saddle, “will be yours.”

“Excellent,” he said.

“Come here, Constance,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she said, running to me.

“Awaken, Lady Tina,” I heard Ram say. He was bending near her.

“Cross your wrists before your body,” I said to Constance. She did so and I lashed them together. I then carried her to the right side of the saddle and placed her left foot in a ring there, which I had wrapped with fur. Her tied wrists I looped over the pommel.

I, standing in the stirrup, looked over the fields. There were five sleen. They were about a half of a pasang away, excited, squealing, their snouts hurrying at the turf.

“I have an extra tunic here,” I said to Ram, throwing it to him.

“What are you doing?” demanded the Lady Tina.

He had taken the rags he had worn about his hips and was, with what had been her dagger, punching holes in them. Through these holes he threaded a strip of her belt. He knotted the rags about her hips. Because of the lovely flare of her hips, the smallness of her waist, the sweet, exciting swelling of her breasts, she would be unable, her hands tied behind her, to pull or scrape the garment from her.

“Is your modesty less offended now?” he asked. He slipped on the tunic which I had thrown him.

“What is that sound I hear?” she asked.

“Sleen,” he said.

“I do not understand,” she said, tremulously.

He cut the leather strips which had bound her ankles. “You will now be able to run,” he said.

“I do not understand,” she said.

“You soon will,” he said.

I climbed to the saddle. Ram placed his left foot in the ring which I had designated and looped his left arm about the pommel of the saddle.

She struggled to her feet. “Where are you going?” she cried.

“To Lydius, Lady Tina,” I informed her. I had not originally intended to go to Lydius, but I had acquired a girl in the fields. She was not yet branded. I would have her marked in Lydius.

The sleen were now within a few hundred yards of the tarn. I took the tarn straps in my left hand, the one-strap in my right.

Their squealing was loud. I could see them moving swiftly toward us.

Suddenly Lady Tina went white. “Oh, no! No!” she cried. She tried with her bound wrists to tear away the rags which she wore but they, because of the knotted belt strip, were perfectly fastened upon her.

“No!” she screamed.

The rags she wore, of course, were rich and heavy with the scent of him who had been her quarry. Such rags would have been used to put the sleen on his track.

“No!” she screamed. “No! They will tear me to pieces!”

The sleen were now no more than two hundred yards away. The squealing was wild now, as they caught sight of the bound girl in the field.

“They will tear me to pieces!” she wept.

“Run, Lady Tina,” suggested Ram.

“They will tear me to pieces!” she wept, screaming.

“It is the same chance,” said he, “which I in your place would have had.”

The five sleen stopped now, tails thrashing, crouched down, shoulders high, heads low, eyes blazing. They were some fifty yards from the girl. Their nostrils were flared, their ears laid back against the sides of their broad, triangular heads. I saw the tongue of one darting in and out.

They crept forward, there must be no mistake of losing the prey.

The girl turned and fled, bound, the rag on her hips to the legs of the tarn. She knelt in the grass. She looked up, her eyes wild.

“Take me with you!” she wept.

“There is no room for free women here,” said Ram.

“But I am a slave!” she cried.

“Are you a natural slave?” asked Ram.

“Yes, yes,” she wept. “I have known for years in my heart that I was truly a slave. I lack only the brand and collar!”

“Interesting,” said Ram.

“Make me your slave!” she wept.

“But perhaps,” said he, “I do not want you.”

“Want me! Want me!” she begged.

“Do you acknowledge yourself a true slave?” asked Ram.

“Yes, yes!” she cried.

“Do you beg to be my slave?” he asked.

“Yes, Master,” she said, on her knees.

“Then beg,” said he.

“I beg to be your slave, Master,” she said.

The sleen charged. Ram, with his left hand on the tarn harness, managed to get his right hand on her arm. The tarn, given the sudden force on the one-strap, reared and, smiting the air with his mighty wings, lifted itself into the air. The girl screamed, dangling. One of the sleen leaped more than twenty feet into the air, tearing at her, but fell back to the turf, twisting, squealing. She who had been the Lady Tina was held safe in the arms of Ram, her master. He freed her hands that she might hold to him. With his knife he cut the rags from her hips and we watched them fall among the angry sleen who tore them to pieces.

“It seems we have a new slave girl,” said Constance.

She who had been the Lady Tina looked at her with fear.

“Yes,” I said.

I turned the head of the tarn toward Lydius.

“We are flying in the direction of Lydius, Master,” said Constance, her hair lifted by the wind.

“We shall stop there for a time,” I said. “I acquired a girl in the fields. She has not yet been branded. It is my intention to have her marked.”

She turned white.

“Did you expect to escape the brand?” I asked.

“No, Master,” she said. She, Gorean, knew well that slave girls are marked.

She was silent.

I would let her anticipate the iron.

“I, too, acquired a girl in the fields,” said Ram. “I may, in Lydius, as well, see that her thigh is clearly marked, that identifying her as what she is, a slave.”

I looked at the naked girl clinging fearfully, helplessly to Ram. “She is so beautiful,” I said, “there could be little doubt in anyone’s mind that she is a slave, whether she is branded or not.”

“She is comely,” admitted Ram. “But I will nonetheless have her incontrovertibly marked.”

“The mark will improve her beauty,” I said, “making it doubly desirable.”

“True,” said Ram, “perhaps even infinitely more desirable.”

“Perhaps,” I said. It was true that a brand incredibly enhanced the beauty of a female. Some women did not know what male lust was, until they became slaves, and found themselves, suddenly, vulnerably exposed to its full predations.

She who moments before had been free held to Ram, her master, clutching him, desperately, that she might not fall.

I let her hold to Ram for a while; then I said to her, “Extend your wrists to me, crossed.”

“I will fall,” she wept.

“If your master pleases,” I said, “he will hold you.”

“Hold me, Master,” she wept. “I beg you!’

“Perhaps,” he said.

She extended her wrists to me, crossed. I lashed them together with binding fiber.

She knew that it was only her master’s hands on her which prevented her from failing to the ground, hundreds of feet below. She depended on him totally for her life, that he would hold her.

Then her hands were bound, and I drew her up and over the saddle. I then lifted up Constance’s arms and thrust the new slave’s tied wrists over the pommel, then placed Constance’s bound wrists over hers.