John Norman - Dancer of Gor

"That will do," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said. In a sense, then, I had the same name, "Tuka," but, in another sense, it was a new name, put on me afresh. I now wore it not by the will of another, but by his own will. Once I had been Miss Doreen Williamson. Now, again, by a man" s decision, I, an animal, was simply, "Tuka." It was an exciting name. It made me flame between my thighs. I squirmed a little. "Do you know what this is," he asked. He had picked up the slave whip. "A slave whip," I said.

He held it before me and I eagerly licked and kissed it.

"You do that well, slave," he said.

"Thank you, Master," I said.

"Can you speak Gorean?" he asked.

"A little, Master," I said. He knew, of course, I could speak at least a little Gorean. For example, he had heard me speak with Mirus and Tupita. "Master would know more of such matters," I said, "had he, when I requested it upon occasion, given me permission to speak."

He toyed with the whip. I hoped I had not been too bold.

"A girl can understand simple commands," I whispered.

"Perhaps, by now, she should be better than that," he said.

"I can speak Gorean," I said, "at least well, I think, for my time here. I have had to learn it rapidly and efficiently. It is the language of my masters." He nodded. Slave girls from Earth learn Gorean quickly. We are encouraged, of course, by the switch and whip. They are useful pedagogical devices.

"May I speak?" I asked. It seemed strange to request permission to speak, in English. Yet it was fully proper, for I was a slave. That was what was important, that I was a slave, not the language in which I spoke.

"Yes," he said.

"Is it to your whip that I am subject?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

"I am yours?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "I put sword claim upon you. Let he who will dispute it with me."

I twisted in the bonds. I was his, then, girl loot, kajira spoils, as much as a tharlarion or a crate of jewels, by the right of the sword.

"Did you search for me?" I asked.

"Yes," he said, "for months, from Market of Semris, to Brundisium, to Samnium, to Argentum, to Venna."

I recalled Tyrrhenius had spoken of "inquiries." I had thought they might be inquiries being made by praetors", agents, or something. It had not been clear, even, whether the «inquiries» were related, or were being made by one or more parties. It now seemed that at least two parties, separately, doubtless unknown to one another, each with its individual motivation, had been searching for me. No wonder Tyrrhenius had wanted to sell me out of Argentum as quickly as he could!

"Why?" I asked. "To free me?"

"Do you think you should be a free woman?" he asked.

"No, Master," I said.

He looked at me, and he seemed angry, and I was afraid of him.

"I realized, after I had let you go, that I had really brought you here for myself."

"Oh, Master!" I cried, joyfully.

"So I followed you," he said, "fool that I was ever to have let you go." "Why did you not buy me from your employers, and put me in your collar, and keep me, and train me to please you, according to your dictates?"

"I feared you would drive me mad with passion," he said. "But there is a way to handle such women, to keep them in collars, and under strict control." "Yes, Master!" I said. "Yes!" He searched for me! He had found me! He looked down at me.

"Master had labored long to fine me," I said. "He has risked much for a mere girl."

He shrugged.

"It is my hope that master is not disappointed, now that he has me in his bonds," I said.

He smiled.

"I gather that master is not disappointed." I said.

"I shall let you know later," he said.

I laughed. But how tightly I was bound! How helpless I was! "It is surprising, is it not," I asked, "that you should search so long for a mere slave?" "I suppose so," he said.

"May I not inquire more closely then into master" s motivation?" I said. I so wanted him to tell me that he found me of interest, that he found me pleasing! "You are not an unattractive slave," he said, dryly.

"But surely there are many attractive slaves," I said.

"That is true," he said.

"Might a slave hope that master might care for her, just a little?" I asked.

"Rather let her hope that such an improper, impertinent question does not earn her a meeting with the whip," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said.

"You were desired," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said. I must then put aside all thoughts of love or affection. I was unworthy of such, from such a man, I was inutterably beneath him, worth less than the dust beneath his sandals. How absurd was my question! How shamed I was at my pride! How bold I had been! How could I even think of such a thing? Did I not know I was from Earth, and only a slave! But I loved him, and with the whole heart and body of me! I tendered to him the wholeness of my helpless slave" s love, worthless though it might have been. I had love enough in my small, marvelous body for a thousand of us, a thousand times over! So I was not loved! What did it matter? I was desired, and this would be enough. Too, I myself felt desire, and profound, raging slave desire, as he on his part must have felt the passions of the master. I was inflamed with need and heat before him, my master. Unworthy though I might be he had clearly wanted me! He had picked me out on Earth, he had fought with himself on Gor, then he had pursued me like a sleen, threading patiently through the harrows of time, disregarding the perils of both men and beasts. Loved or not, I had been for months, unknown to myself, an indisputable object of Gorean passion. I had been woman prey, a hunter" s curvaceous quarry. Now the hunt was done, and the lovely beast was taken, and tied naked at the hunter" s feet. She desired muchly to serve him. I tried desperately to conceal my passion. "May I inquire," I asked, as unconcernedly, as lightly, as I could, "what may be your intentions with respect to me?"

"It is my intention," he said, "at least for a time, to keep you as a slave if you endeavor to prove satisfactory."

"As an imbonded girl," I said, "I shall, of course, endeavor to prove satisfactory."

He smiled.

"Never let me go again," I wept, suddenly. "Keep me forever!"

He looked at me.

Swiftly I spread my knees further apart. I did not wish to be whipped.

"You smell like an aroused slave," he commented.

"I am an aroused slave!" I wept.

"Are you not a highly intelligent modern woman?" he inquired. "I beg permission to kiss the feet of my master," I said.

"You have come a long way from your library, librarian," he said.

I looked up at him, tears in my eyes.

"They have put slave fires in your belly, haven" t they?" he asked. "Yes, Master," I said.

"How cruel of them," he said.

I squirmed helplessly.

"Perhaps a girl wishes to serve her master?" he asked.

"Yes, Master!" I said. "Yes, Master! Please, Master!"

He then went behind me and untied my ankles. He then put his hands gently on my flanks, and waist, and body, and I pressed back against him, sobbing, my eyes closed, moaning, begging to be touched. Then he whipped loose the fiber on my wrists and, rolling it and putting it in his pouch, went to stand before me. I put my head down and began to lick and kiss his feet, sobbing.

"Yes, you are obviously a highly intelligent woman," he said. "You do that very well."

I sobbed.

"You look well, modern woman," he said, "at my feet."

"Please, Master," I begged. "I am not a modern woman. There is nothing left in me of the modern woman, really, as you of all men, must know and recognize, even if ever there was anything of that sort in me to begin with! I am now only a Gorean slave girl at the feet of her master!"

"And what is the name of your master?" he inquired.