John Norman - Rogue of Gor

I thought this not unlikely.

“You have money,” said Peggy. “Buy another girl, one to lick your feet and content you.”

Slave girls tend to speak openly and honestly. They are under few delusions as to the desires of men. Hypocrisies are not encouraged in them, as they often are in their free sisters. Similarly Gorean men tend on the whole, unabashedly, to be perfectly frank about such matters. What true man, in his vitality, does not want a beautiful woman as a slave? Two major differences between the men of Earth and the men of Gor are, first, that the men of Gor are perfectly straightforward and open about this and, secondly, that such women may normally be purchased at a modest price in a convenient market. On Gor the order of nature, as old as the switch, the rope, the cave and the raid, has never been denied.

She put her lips close to my ear. I heard the tiny, heavy sound of the links of the chain, moving against one another, depending from her collar. “Buy Peggy, if you wish,” she whispered.

“Do you wish me to buy you?” I asked.

“I would rather be purchased by only one other man on all Gor,” she said, “and he has never even had me. He scarcely notices me and seems not even to know I exist. Yet I almost faint with joy at the very thought of serving him.”

I looked at her. She was very beautiful.

“I am unworthy even to think of him,” she said. “I am only an Earth woman, and a branded slave.”

“Who is he?” I asked.

“Please do not make me speak his name, Master,” she said.

“Very well,” I said.

We lay together quietly, for a time, not speaking. We could hear conversation outside from the floor of the tavern.

“Have you heard more of the topaz?” I asked.

“No, Master,” she said. “But it is thought to be in Victoria.”

“The men of Victoria,” I said, “seem adamant in refusing to pay the tribute to Policrates. “

“Yes, Master,” she smiled.

I thought this was courageous on their part, but I did not know if it were wise. It had been the first time in five years that this had happened. The last time the pirates of the dark stronghold had carried fire and sword to a dozen wharfed ships. The tribute, then, had been rapidly forthcoming. To be sure, in the past years the pirates had become more and more dependent on the markets of Victoria to dispose of their loot and captures. In the light of this many in Victoria regarded themselves as having at last attained a position in which they might succeed in evading the humiliating burdens of tribute.

“Master is kind to spare my feelings,” said Peggy.

I smiled. I had not pressed her on the matter of he whose collar she longed to wear.

“Put her from your mind,” whispered Peggy. “There are many lovely women in the markets. Buy one. Put her in your collar. Teach her with the whip who it is to whom she belongs. Make her yours.”

I looked up at the low ceiling.

“Is she so special to you because she is from Earth, or because you knew her from Earth?” she asked.

“I do not know,” I said.

“Is that why you cannot forget her?” she asked. “Is that why you are so concerned about her?”

“I do not know,” I said.

“There must be hundreds of girls from Earth, perhaps some thousands, who wear their collars on Gor,” she said.

“Yes,” I said. “That is doubtless true.”

“What, then, is so special about her?” she asked.

“I do not know,” I said.

“Imagine a wall,” she said, “of eight feet in height, of heavy stone, a hundred yards in length. Imagine, too, a hundred women, beautiful, and stripped, chained helplessly to this wall. It is, of course, a market wall. In the company of a slaver, their owner, you examine these women. Each, in her chains, kneels before you, and begs you to buy her. One of these women is the girl we shall call Beverly. But you have never seen her before. Which of all of these women would you buy?”

I looked at her.

“Which, of all these women,” she asked, “would you have released from the wall? On the throat of which, of all of them, would you lock your inflexible collar? On the wrists of which, of all of them, would you lock your unyielding slave bracelets? Which, of all of them, would you lead home, as your slave?”

“She,” I said, “the one whom we might call Beverly.”

“Ah,” said Peggy, drawing back, “I fear she is your love slave.”

“She is too fine to be a slave,” I said, “let alone the most complete of slaves, the total and abject love slave.”

“Even if it should be what she wants most deeply, in her deepest heart?” asked Peggy.

“Of course,” I said, angrily.

“But what if she is a slave,” asked Peggy, “in reality a true slave?”

“It does not matter,” I said.

“Surely you have recognized Gorean women can be slaves, and have treated them accordingly,” said Peggy.

“Yes,” I said.

“And surely you have recognized some Earth women can be slaves, and have treated them accordingly,” she said.

“Yes,” I said. I looked at Peggy. She blushed deeply, and smiled. I had often treated her, thoroughly and completely, as the mere slave she was.

“How then,” asked Peggy, softly, smiling, “is this other woman different?”

“She is different,” I said; angrily.

“Can you admit the possibility that she might not be different?” asked Peggy.

“No,” I said. “No!”

“Why not?” asked Peggy.

“Then she would be only a slave,” I said, angrily.

“But if this is what she is, and what fulfills her, and makes her joyful?” she asked.

“It does not matter,” I said, angrily.

“The nature of the woman, and her fulfillment and joy, does not matter to you?” she asked.

I was silent. I was furious.

“Do you not, honestly, want her in your chains?” asked Peggy.

“The first instant I saw her,” I said, “I wanted her in my chains.”

Peggy kissed me.

“But I must put such thoughts from my head,” I said, bitterly.

“Why?” she asked.

“I do not know,” I said.

“Nature is harsh, but it is not so terrible, truly,” she said.

“I must go,” I said.

“It is not yet even the Twentieth Ahn, Master,” she said. Swiftly she knelt beside me, head down. “Have I displeased Master?” she asked.

“No,” I said, smiling, looking up at her.

“Dare to become Gorean, Master,” she said, “please.”

“Perhaps,” I said.

Swiftly she nestled down beside me, holding me. She did not want me to leave the alcove.

“Thank you for talking with a mere slave,” she whispered.

“Why do you not simply place yourself on your belly before he whose collar you wish to wear,” I asked, “and with tears, kissing his feet, implore him to buy you?”

“I dare not,” she said. “I am only a low slave, and an Earth woman.”

“I see,” I said.

“He might be offended, and slay me, or Tasdron, my master, discovering my crime, might slay me, for my insolence.”

“I see,” I said.

“And so I must see him daily,” she said, “and cannot reveal in the least my feelings for him, beyond those of the silken slave who must serve any man who can afford the price of a cup of her master’s paga.”

I put my arm about the girl.

“You see, Master,” she said, “we are not so different. You have lost your slave, and I cannot even permit myself to be found by my master.”

I kissed her, softly.

She began to sob in my arms, and I held her gently, closely. She looked up at me, with tears in her eyes.

“It is hard being a slave girl,” I told her.

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