John Norman - Rogue of Gor

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“And you told, didn’t you?” I asked.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“Do you think it was wise for a man to have confided secrets to a female slave such as you?” I asked.

“No, Master,” she said.

“You do not regret having told me, do you?” I asked.

“No, Master!” she wept.

“Do you think it was wise to have obeyed me?” I asked.

“Yes, Master!” she said. “Yes, Master!”

“You are a mere slave, aren’t you?” I asked.

“Yes, Master!” she said. “Have mercy on me, Master!”

“Accordingly it was right for you to have told me, wasn’t it?” I asked.

“Yes, Master,” she wept. “Yes, Master.”

“Do you think a girl such as you should be told secrets?” I asked.

“No, Master,” she said.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because we may be made to tell,” she said.

“You were made to tell, weren’t you?” I asked.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

I then turned about and went to the leather curtains of the alcove. I reached up to unbuckle the straps which held them closed.

“Are you going to leave me?” she asked, behind me, bound.

“Certainly,” I said.

“All you wanted from me was information,” she said.

I shrugged. “I now have that information,” I said.

“Dally but a bit, Master,” she whispered.

I turned to regard her. “I do not understand,” I said.

She was looking at me over her shoulder. “Please,” she said.

“I do not understand,” I said, irritably.

“I danced before you,” she said, “and in the fullness of the slave I am.”

“It is true,” I said. “You danced as a slave.”

“I am a slave,” she said.

“But you are of Earth,” I said. For some reason I was angry with her.

“The women of Earth,” she said, “are natural slaves.”

“No!” I cried.

“Do not disparage and condemn us,” she said. “Understand us!”

“No!” I said, angrily.

“Fulfill us!” she begged.

“No!” I said. “No!”

“Is a natural slave not to be granted her fulfillment?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “No!”

“Why not?” she asked.

“I do not know,” I said. “I do not know!”

“Perhaps because we are slaves,” she said. “It is a cruelty you practice upon us.”

“Perhaps,” I said, angrily.

“What greater cruelty can a man inflict upon a slave than to deny her the collar?” she asked.

I said nothing.

“Did you not see how I danced before you?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“You excite me, Master,” she said. “Does that horrify you? Does that scandalize you? Does it startle and discomfort you, does it so dismay you, does it seem so hard to comprehend, that a woman from Earth could be sexually excited, that she could have sexual desires, that she could feel helpless and frustrating passion, that she could beg even to be sexually satisfied?”

“It is not typical,” I said. “And it is not permitted.”

“It is typical!” she said. “How little you know of women! And on Gor it is permitted—to slaves.”

I did not speak.

“On Gor,” she said, “I have experienced feelings and sensation, I never knew could exist. Inhibitions have been shattered, some of them commanded from me by strong men and the blows of the whip. I have learned to live and to feel. My emotions have been freed. My deepest sexuality and nature have on this world at last been fully liberated. I have found myself. I love and I serve. I now know at last what and who I am, a love slave for uncompromising masters.”

“No,” I said. “No!”

I turned away from her, again to open the curtains.

“Did my dance interest Master?” she asked.

I turned again to look upon her. She knelt close to the wall, fastened by the neck and wrists tightly to the ring. I heard the small movement of the bells upon her, I saw the barbaric armlets, and the tiny chain that held the small pearl drop at her forehead.

“Yes,” I said. My fists were clenched.

“I beg to be fulfilled,” she said, “and as the slave I am. I know I have no right to beg this, for a slave is without rights. I do, however, beg it, placing myself vulnerably and fully at your mercy. You may, of course, deny me this fulfillment, for I am a slave. I hope, however, that you will not do so. I hope, rather, that you will see fit to show kindness to a miserable girl in bondage.”

I said nothing.

“I will strive to be worthy of my fulfillment,” she said.

I crouched down behind her, and put my hands on her waist. She shuddered, pressing herself against the wall.

“In what way?” I asked.

“By serving you completely and intimately, and as an abject and total slave,” she said.

I did not speak.

“You will not regret it, Master,” she said.

I freed her wrists and neck of the rope, leaving it fallen by the ring. I then had her in my arms, she on her knees, by the ring. “Alison will strive to please Master well,” she whispered. She then kissed me, softly. Then, softly, she whispered in my ear, “The women of Earth are natural slaves.”

“No!” I said.

“Judge by me,” she said.

I lowered her to the furs. I began to kiss at her body. “No,” I said. Soon she began to gasp and sob in my arms. Then she began to writhe. Then she screamed in the alcove and then, shuddering, shaking, was held in my arms. “Am I not a natural slave?” she asked. “Yes,” I said, “you are.” There had been no mistaking the nature of her movements, her reflexes. They were clearly those of a natural slave. These things troubled me. She lay back. “And I am a woman of Earth,” she said. “You are not typical,” I told her. “I am typical,” she said. I looked down at her. “What are you thinking?” she asked. “I was thinking,” I said, regarding the girl, “that the men of Earth, if they could but see an Earth woman as you are now, would scream with pleasure.”

“We are waiting for our masters,” she smiled.

I listened to the musicians outside of the alcove, the sounds of the tavern. When one brings a girl to an alcove one may keep her there for most practical purposes as long as one wishes. She is yours, for most practical purposes, until one chooses to re-open the curtains. After the tavern is closed an attendant will let you out and, taking charge of the girl, see that she is properly chained at her ring by the girl-wall or kenneled.

“Do you now think it is so terrible a thing to fulfill the needs of a slave?” she asked.

“No,” I said.

“And if one is a natural slave,” she said, “surely it is acceptable for her to seek, even desperately, the fulfillment of her deepest needs.”

“Yes,” I said.

“And surely,” she said, “it is permissible for the master, though he is under no obligation, to do so, for she is only a slave, to deign, in his kindness, if it be his whim or pleasure, to fulfill the needs of the slave.”

“It is totally up to him,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she said. “She is only a slave.”

“That you are a natural slave, Alison,” I said, “does not prove that the women of Earth are natural slaves.”

“My entire chain, in training,” she said, “learned that we were.”

“It proves nothing,” I said.

“Do you think we were all so rare and different?” she asked.

I shrugged. “I do not know,” I said.

“We were not,” she said.

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” I said.

She smiled.

“How long have you known you were a slave?” I asked.

“Since I was a young girl,” she said. “I first discovered it in my thoughts and dreams, and feelings, and fantasies. But I thought I could never be more than a secret slave at the mercy of a secret master. Then I was brought to Gor. Here I wear my collar openly and kneel before my masters for all the world to see.”