John Norman - Magicians of Gor

"You called me "Master'," he said to her.

She lifted her head, timidly.

"It is appropriate," I said. "She is a slave. You are a free man." She had, of course, spoken without permission, but it seemed almost as though she had been unable to help herself. Considering the circumstances I decided to overlook the matter. To be sure, it would not do for her to make a habit of such errancies. "Forgive me, Master!" she whispered to me.

"You may speak," I said.

"It is only," she said, "that I think the great and beautiful Milo is a wondrous actor. It is not that he acts a thousand roles and we cannot identify him from one role to the next. It is rather that he is himself, in a thousand roles, and it is himself, his wondrous self, that we love!"

"There," I said to Marcus. "See?"

"Love?" said Milo, looking at the kneeling slave.

"Of course, my opinion is only that of a slave," she said, looking down. "That is true," I admitted.

"Love?" asked Milo, again, looking at the slave.

"Yes, Master," she said, not raising her head.

"Get your head up, slave," I said to her.

Lavinia raised her head.

"Put your head back, as far as you can," I said.

She did so. This raised the line of her breasts, and prominently displayed the collar.

"She is pretty, isn't she? I asked.

"She is a beautiful slave," said Milo.

Tears of vulnerability, and emotion, filled Lavinia's eyes.

"Milo had best be on his way," said Marcus.

"Yes," I said.

Lavinia sobbed, but she could not, of course, break position.

"But moments ago," said Milo to me, "you owned us both!"

"True," I said.

"You should leave," said Marcus to Milo.

Again Lavinia sobbed, a sob which shook her entire body, but again she could not break position.

"I think," said Milo to me, "that I would fain remain your slave."

"Why?" I asked.

"That I might upon occasion, when permitted," said Milo, "have the opportunity to look upon this woman."

"Do you find her of interest?" I asked.

"Of course!" he said, startled.

"Then she is yours," I said.

"Mine!" he cried.

"Of course," I said. "She is only a slave, a property, a trifle, a bauble. I give her to you. Here is the key to her collar." I pressed the key into his hand. "You may break position," I said to the slave.

She flung herself to her belly before me, covering my feet with kisses. "Thank you! Thank you, Master!" she wept.

"Your new master is there," I said, indicating Milo.

Quickly then she lay before him, kissing his feet. "I love you, Master!" she wept. "I love you!"

He reached down, awkwardly, to lift her up, but it seemed she fought him, struggling, and could not be raised higher than to her knees, and then, he desisting in amazement, she had her head down again, to his feet, in obeisance, and was kissing them. She was laughing, and crying. "I love you, Master!" she wept. "I love you! I will be hot, devoted and dutiful! I am yours! I will live to please you! I will live to love and serve you! I love you, my master!" She kissed him again, and again, about the feet, the ankles, the sides of the calves. Then she looked up at him, timidly, love bright in her eyes. "I will try to be a good slave to you, Master!" she said.

"Surely I must free you!" he cried.

"No!" she suddenly cried, in terror.

"No?" he said.

"No!" she said. "Please, no, my Master!"

"I have waited too long for my slavery! It is what I have desired and craved all my life! Do not take it from me!"

"I do not understand," he said, haltingly.

"I am not a man!" she said. "I am a woman! I want to love and serve, wholly, helplessly, unquestioningly, irreservedly, unstintingly! I want to ask nothing and to give all! I want to be possessed by you, to be yours literally, to be owned by you!"

He was speechless.

"My slavery is precious to me," she said. "Please, Master, do not take it from me!"

"What should I do?" he asked me, wildly.

Lavinia, too, kneeling before him, her arms not about his legs, looked at me, wildly, pleadingly, tears in her eyes.

"What do you want to do?" I asked him.

"Truly?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"She is beautiful!" he said.

"Of course," I said.

"I want her," he said.

"Subject to what limits?" I asked.

"To no limits," he said.

"Then it seems you want her wholly," I said.

"Yes," he said, "wholly."

There is only one way to have a woman wholly," I said, "and that is for her to be your slave, for you to own her."

"Please, please Master!" wept Lavinia, looking up at Milo. "Please, Master!"

"Do with her what you wish," I said. "But she is a slave. It is the only thing which will truly fulfill her. It is the only thing which will make her truly happy."

"I do not know what to do?" he said.

"What do you want to do?" I asked.

"I want to own her!" he cried, angrily. "I want to own every inch of her, every particle of her, every bit of her, totally, every hair on her head, every mark on her body, all of her, all of her! I want to own her, completely!"

"Yes, Master! Yes, Master!" said Lavinia.

"It is what you want, and it is what she wants, too," I said.

"You understand," said he to Lavinia, "that if I make this decision, it is made."

"Yes, Master!" she said.

"Once it is made, it is made," he said.

"Yes, Master!" she said.

"And that is acceptable to you?" he asked.

"She is a slave," I said. "It makes no difference whether it is acceptable to her or not. You are the master."

He looked down at Lavinia.

"He is right, of course, Master," she said. "My wishes are nothing, as they are only the wishes of a slave. My will is nothing, as it is only the will of a slave. I am at your mercy, totally. I am in your power, completely."

"Aii!" he said, understanding this.

"Master?" she asked.

"You are my slave," he announced, accepting her.

"I love you, Master!" she wept, putting her head against his thigh.

"I own you," he said, softly, wonderingly.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Truly," he said.

"Yes, my master!" she said.

"It is one thing to own a woman," I said, "and it is another to have her within the bonds of an excellent mastery."

"Undoubtedly," he said.

"I do not think you have had much experience at this sort of thing," I said. "No," he admitted. "I haven't."

"Perhaps you, slave girl," I said to Lavinia, "can teach him something about the handling of slaves."

"Of course, Master," she smiled.

"You must make certain that you get everything you want from her," I said, "and then, if you wish, more, even a thousand times more."

"Aii!" he said.

"All is your due," I said. "She is a slave."

"How can I believe such happiness?" he asked.

"Do not yield to the temptation of being weak with her," I cautioned him. "She loves you, but she must also fear you. She must know that, you are not to be trifled with. She must know herself to be always within your discipline."

"I understand," he said.

"And as she is female," I said, "she may occasionally, curious, foolishly, particularly at first, wish to test the strength of your will, to discover, if you like, the boundaries of her condition."

"Master!" protested Lavinia.

"It is then up to you to teach her what they are, promptly, decisively, unmistakably."

"I understand," he said.

"She wants to know, so to speak, the length of her chain, the location of the walls of her cell. Too, she wants to be reassured of your strength. She wants to know that you are her master, truly, in the fullness of reality. Having learned this, she need not be so foolish in the future. She will have discovered that stone is hard and that fire burns. Thenceforth she will be in her place, pleased and content."