John Norman - Swordsmen of Gor

“Good,” I said.

“And there are two mattresses, filled with grass,” he said.

“Why do you have two?” I asked.

Pertinax did not respond.

“Cecily and I,” I said, “if you have no objection, will share this mattress.”

“Certainly,” said Pertinax.

“Surely you should have the mattress, Master,” said Cecily, “and I should sleep at your feet.”

What she had in mind was doubtless a common arrangement in a Gorean dwelling, of which she had been apprised by other slaves while in the Pleasure Cylinder associated with the Steel World from which we had recently departed. It is common for the slave to be slept at the foot of the master’s couch, chained there to a slave ring. But in such a situation she is likely to have at least a mat and, commonly, deep, luxurious furs on which to recline. Indeed, the slave is often put to service on such furs, which are commonly spoken of as “love furs.” If she has been displeasing, of course, she may be slept naked at the foot of the couch, on her chain, on the bare tiles or stones of the floor. That is not so pleasant, and, of course, it gives the slave some time to consider how she might endeavor to be more pleasing to the master. It is a sign of favor with the master for a slave to be allowed to share the surface of the couch. On the other hand, I suspect it is commonly done, except perhaps in a house with many slaves. Certainly it is pleasant to have a slave at one’s side, of whom one may make use at any Ahn of the night or morning. It is a cusp in a slave’s bondage when she is first permitted to the surface of the master’s couch.

“Later, perhaps,” I said. “I have not had you in more than twenty Ahn.”

“Yes, Master,” she said, pleased.

Pertinax crouched down beside Constantina.

She lay still, as though frightened, disbelieving, or numb.

“Let me help you to your couch,” he said.

“No,” I said, standing up, approaching them. “You, Pertinax, are master. It is you who will have the couch, and not the slave. She will sleep at the foot of the couch, on the floor, or outside.”

“Surely not,” protested Pertinax.

I nudged the slave with my foot, not gently, and she reacted, and whimpered. “Do you understand, slave?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said, “Master.”

“Then crawl to your master,” I said, “kiss his feet, and beg to be permitted to sleep at the foot of his couch.”

Constantina, on all fours, head down, her long hair to the floor, crawled to Pertinax, bent down, and kissed his feet. “I beg to be permitted to sleep at the foot of your couch, Master,” she said.

“Ai!” cried Pertinax, half in consternation, half in delight.

“Well?” I asked Pertinax. “A slave awaits an answer to her petition.”

“You may do so,” said Pertinax, his voice unsteady.

“Thank you, Master,” she said, and went to her place.

Cecily drew away her tunic, like the beautiful, uninhibited, shameless little animal she was, and knelt beside the mattress, at its lower left side, and lifted it a bit, and kissed it. She looked at me, expectantly, hopefully, to learn my will, and I reached down and seized her by the hair and, as she winced, in pain and delight, I drew her beside me on the mattress.

Even in the Pleasure Cylinder the slave fires had been well lit in Cecily’s lovely, helpless, vulnerable little belly, and she had soon found herself, as is common with female slaves, their victim and prisoner.

How the flames of their needs goad slaves to the feet of masters, even to the feet of those they may loathe.

I did not begrudge Cecily her ecstasies, nor would I hinder them. Some masters try to shame their slaves for what they cannot help, indeed for responses for which the master himself may have been significantly responsible, particularly if they have known them as lofty, frigid free women, now, by their will, reduced to begging animals. That, however, seems to me cruel. It does help the slave, of course, to see herself as a slave, in misery and shame, as she recalls her former contempt for such things in slaves. Now she herself understands what it is to be in the throes of being mastered.

And at a given point she throws her head back and says, “Yes, yes!” to the collar, and is whole.

Cecily, in her yieldings, was muchly pleasured, and her master, too, if it must be known, was well pleased with his slave.

Constantina had risen to her knees and was looking, hollow-eyed, dry-eyed, across the hut at us. There was a little light, from the embers of the fire.

“She is a slave, a slave!” said Constantina.

“Yes, yes, yes,” gasped Cecily, beside herself with collar rapture.

“Disgusting! Disgusting!” said Constantina.

“Pertinax,” I said, “take your slave, and put her to use.”

“No, no!” said Pertinax, frightened.

I then rolled to the side, and struggled with the vital thing in my arms, kissing, and licking me, gasping, wanting more, and more.

Later, an Ahn or more later, Cecily was asleep, and, I gathered, so, too, was Constantina. I lay awake, looking up at the beams and thatch of the hut’s roof. Who was I to meet in two days, or so?

“Cabot,” I heard.

“Yes,” I said, softly.

“You spoke of entanglement,” said Pertinax.

“Yes,” I said.

“I am to be paid,” he said, “and then I am done with matters.”

“I do not think so,” I said.

“What of her?” he asked.

“The slave?”

“Constantina,” he said.

“She, too, is entangled,” I said.

I was now confident that his employers were not representing Priest-Kings, but others, perhaps brigands, or merchants, somehow associated with Kurii. Some Kurii, I was sure, from the Steel World, would have had the coordinates for our landing. Certainly they had been transmitted through Kurii, and the security may have been lax, or deliberately compromised. It was a common practice for Kurii to recruit agents on Earth, usually through confederates, often slavers. There were doubtless several possible networks involved in such matters. Diverse and subtle are the tentacles of the Steel Worlds.

My convictions in this matter had primarily to do with Constantina. It seemed to me quite unlikely that she would have been recruited by Priest-Kings. What need had they, in their plenitude of power, of such instruments? She was, on the other hand, exactly the sort of woman whom slavers, abetting the schemes of Kurii, would choose to recruit. When their services were no longer required there were always other things that could be done with them. There was always the block, and collar. Such women, vain and egotistical, self-serving, greedy and deceitful, dazzled by dreams of riches and power, would think little of betraying others, but it seldom occurred to them, for some reason, that they might, in their turn, be betrayed as easily.

Expecting to be returned to Earth, to power and riches, they would commonly find themselves incarcerated, perhaps thrust into tiny cages, bewildered, grasping the bars, awaiting their sale.

Why not?

They had served their purpose.

Let them now be good for a little something further, say, whatever handful of coins they might bring on the block.

“What are we to do?” asked Pertinax.

“Link me with those who hired you,” I said.

I do not know if he slept then.

For my part, I knew that the Priest-Kings, for some reason, had arranged to have me set down on the beach, which was not far away, no more than a quarter of a pasang from this hut.

I was then certain that another was to meet me, one who truly stood in the service of Priest-Kings.

On the morrow, I would go again to the beach, to the point where I had been landed.

It was there, surely, I was to be met.