John Norman - Mariners of Gor

“‘What is the meaning of this!’ I cried, lifting the chain, shaking it.”

The left ankle is the common chaining ankle for a woman.

“The leader of the camp approached me. ‘Do not be concerned, gentle lady,’ said he. ‘We did not wish you to be stolen.’ ‘Stolen?’ I asked. ‘Certainly,’ he said, ‘many women have been gagged in the middle of the night, then bound, and carried off.’ ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Such things may be done with women,’ he said. ‘Free me, now,’ I said. ‘Certainly,’ he said, and shortly thereafter the gross impediment was gone.”

“How did you feel, being on a chain, being so subject to male domination?” I asked. “Did you have any surprising feelings?”

“Feelings?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, “any sense of weakness, of openness, of readiness, of hope, of desire, of a yearning to surrender, any inexplicable sense of warmth in your body, any heating or liquidity between your thighs?”

“That is impossible,” she said. “I am a free woman.”

“I see,” I said. “Please, continue.”

“They had remained several hours in the camp,” she said. “I think, now, that was to allow one of their fellows to reach the Brundisium road, and make inquiries at a road village, in the vicinity of an abandoned inn, the Inn of Ragnar.”

“Inquiries?” I said.

“I think so,” she said.

“That is a northern name,” I said.

“Perhaps,” she said.

“When it became clear they were preparing to leave the camp, rather toward the fall of darkness, as though they did not wish to be on the road in daylight, I opportuned the leader for a conference, which petition, it seems, he had anticipated. We withdrew a way from the camp, amongst the trees. When we had gone a little way, he pointed to the ground, and said, ‘Kneel there.’ ‘I do not wish to kneel,’ I said. I read his eyes. I knelt. As a man, you probably do not know what it is for a woman to kneel before a man, to be at his feet, to lift your head, to look up at him, or to keep your head down before him, if commanded. It is symbolic of your utter otherness, of your softness before his hardness, your weakness before his strength, your slightness before his might, your beauty and helplessness before his virility and power, your readiness before his command. It is, one fears, as though one were in one’s place, before one’s master. How, I ask, can a woman so situated, one on her knees, speak to a man?”

“As a woman,” I suggested.

“It is a position of petition, or submission, is it not?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“I was furious,” she said.

“Much depends on the woman,” I said. “If one is speaking of slaves, it is appropriate, and prescribed, of course.”

“Yes,” she said.

“But many women,” I said, “long for their masters, beseech the world for the man before whom they might kneel, naked and collared, whose feet they might gratefully kiss. Many women, longing to be subdued, longing to submit, longing to be unqualifiedly possessed, longing to be owned, wholly and absolutely, find their social, biological, and cultural fulfillment in this, in thusly daring to reveal their deepest needs and desires to men. In such things we find not only a loving confession of femininity, but its unapologetic petition and expression. It is not wrong for a woman to reveal her deepest heart and needs. Who but an unhappy, ill-constituted madman or tyrant could find gratification in attempting to legislate the values, loves, lives, and hearts of others?”

“‘You may speak,’ he said, as though I, a free woman, required such permission. ‘I wish passage to Brundisium,’ I said, ‘and I am prepared to pay for it, as might a Ubara herself. I have riches.’ ‘You speak as a free woman,’ he said. ‘I am a free woman,’ I said. ‘That is fortunate,’ he said, ‘for were you a slave, and spoke as you do, you would be muchly lashed. The lesson of suitable speech, of deference, and such, for a slave is quickly learned.’ ‘I lied to you,’ I said, ‘for such may a free woman do. I am not a slave, and, of course, I have no master, a Flavius or anyone else. I am Publia, a free woman of Ar, not proscribed, but fearful, and thus in flight from the city. I pretended to be a slave, until I might speak privately with you. The myth of Flavius was to dissemble before your men, for why should you share great wealth with them? Rather reserve it, secretly, for yourself. In Brundisium we may pretend you have found a Flavius and have received a reward for my return, commensurate with what a minor Merchant, our alleged Flavius, might afford. Then, you can share a pittance with your men, and reserve the large, unsuspected bounty for yourself.’ ‘You have holdings, wealth, family, in Brundisium?’ he asked. ‘Certainly,’ I said. I thought that, as things were going well, there would be little need to part with more than the least of the jewels sewn within my tunic. ‘The men will wonder at our absence,’ he said. ‘We must not allow them to grow suspicious.’ ‘No,’ I said. ‘We are breaking camp,’ he said. ‘I want to reach the Brundisium road by dark, and road village of Ragnar, near the old inn.’ ‘That is on the road to Brundisium, is it not?’ I asked. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Good’, I said. ‘You wish to pretend, before the men, to be a slave, do you not?’ he inquired. ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘otherwise they may suspect our plan.’ ‘Then,’ said he, ‘with all due respect, I think you should accompany us as a slave, bound and leashed.’ ‘Surely that is not necessary,’ I said. ‘Am I not yearning to be returned to the arms of my master?’ I asked. ‘Some of the men,’ he said, ‘suspect that you are a runaway.’ ‘I see,’ I said.”

“You were not curious,” I asked, “that an evening stop was scheduled at a road village?”

“Doubtless they had some business there,” she said. “I did not inquire.”

“Continue,” I said.

“My wrists were bound behind me,” she said, “and other ropes were looped about my upper body, and tightened. Then I was put on a leash, as though I might be a slave. Thankfully, before the charade of my binding and leashing was accomplished, I had asked for sandals, and had been given them. They doubtless had several pairs, from the women in tow. With the sandals I could keep up with them on the road, without much pain. To be sure, our progress would not be rapid, as our party included its animals, the six slaves, bound, tethered in their rope coffle. Although the switch was occasionally used with them one can do only so much with women and the switch, as, despite their earnestness and fear, they lack the stamina and speed of men. I myself, of course, was not switched. I would not have stood for it. About the eighteenth Ahn we reached the road, and, shortly thereafter, we reached what I took to be the village of Ragnar, no more than some small buildings, mostly dark, some little more than shacks, on both sides of the road. I supposed some of the residents had fields nearby, vineyards, orchards, or such. The village was probably a market at times, for I saw dark stalls, and doubtless, to some extent, it catered, in one way or another, to the traffic on the Brundisium road. There was, for example, from the signs, a wainwright’s shop, mostly for repair, I supposed, a Leather Worker’s shop, probably for harnesses and traces, a Metal Worker’s shop, probably mostly to furnish wagoner’s hardware, and such. It must have once had better times, for, I learned, the Inn of Ragnar, for which the village was named, was dilapidated, and closed. Its auxiliary buildings, its stables, its stable yard, and such, like the main building, seemed similarly fallen into a state of forlorn desuetude. Apparently, its well was still in use, as I saw a girl drawing water.