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and blades to her. Suddenly, gratefully, tears in her eyes, sobbing, and half
gasping and choking with relief, kneeling before me, grasping my calves, her
head over my thighs, she covered the whip, that symbol of masculinity, and of
the authority of men over her, and specifically of my own authority over her,
with
"I kiss your whip, my Master," she said, gratefully, continuing to kiss the
brutal, uncompromising blades and staff. "I submit to you a thousand timed
Thank you for not whipping me! I am your slave, and I love youl" She then
looked up at me, joyfully. "I love you, my Master,"
she said. "I love you!" Then, joyfully, kneeling before me, she put her left
cheek down upon my right thigh. "I love you," she said. "I love you, my
Master. Command me," she begged. "I am eager to serve you I will do anything."
I smiled to myself. Of course, she would do anything. She was an owned woman.
Such must do anything, and superbly, and unhesitantly, upon the least wish of
the
Master. They are slaves. And yet it pleased me to hear the former Miss
Henderson, of her own free will, beg to please me. This was a gratification
which few men of Earth had obtained, I speculated, from the women of Earth.
But then few men of Earth had had the illuminating experience of seeing their
precious women, their sexuality liberated by Gorean males, returned to the
primitive natural state of bio logical women, crawling, collared, to the feet
of masters. Woman in her place in nature is perfect and delicious. Out of her
place in nature she is a deviant and a freak.
"Master has not commanded me," said the girl, keeping her cheek down upon my
right thigh.
I hung the whip, by its handle loop, over the arm of the curule chair.
"It is my hope that I am not displeasing to him," she whispered. "Perhaps he
will command me later. It is my hope that he is saving me for his own
pleasure, and not for the pleasure of another."
She looked up at me, frightened. "I know well the power of your desire, and
the strength of your arms, from the holding of Policrates. And yet in these
days that you have owned me, you have used me not once. I trust that I have
not lost my charm for you. I hope that it is for yourself that you are keeping
me, and that you are not keeping me for another. I know that my will means
nothing but it is
to you that I wish to belong, and not to another. Keep me, I beg of you. I
will struggle to be worthy of your decision."
I reached to the side of the curule chair and took from a bronze dish on the
carpet a small leather sack. It contained some tiny scraps of meat, remnants
which I had saved from my supper.
Bit by bit I fed these to the slave.
"The Master feeds his slave," said the girl. "It is thus my hope that he is
not wholly dissatisfied with me."
When I had finished feeding her I gently dabbed her mouth with her hair, being
careful not to disarrange the slave's lipstick with which her sweet, full lips
had been adorned. It was crimson. It was, by design, kissably sensuous,
designed to arouse men and provoke the lust of masters; some girls are
terrified to wear such lipstick; they know how it enhances their loveliness
and proclaims them well as slaves; they understand well its intention and are
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seldom left long in doubt as to its effectiveness; had they originally
entertained doubts as to its efficacy these doubts are often dispelled
rapidly, as they squirm, naked and collared, perfumed, in the arms of a strong
man, as it is being ruthlessly kissed from their lips. Yet, of course, it is
not simply the lipstick, but the entire appearance and ensemble of the slave,
and perhaps mostly simply that she is a slave, which so enhances her
desirability, which so drives men wild with the desire to have her.
I extended my fingers to her and she, gently, licked the grease from them. I
then dried my hands on her hair, and she knelt back, kneeling on the broad
carpeted dais before me, in the position of the pleasure slave.
"Thank you, my Master, for feeding me," she said. I nodded. Many slave girls,
of course, cannot even take their food for granted. And, strictly, of course,
every slave girl depends, ultimately, on the master's decision, as to whether
or not she is to be fed.
"I am happy that it is you who owns me," she said. "I cannot tell you how
happy it makes me, I, a slave, to belong to one such as you. In my deepest
heart of hearts I desire to obey, to serve and love. I know, too, full well,
that you, and ones like you, will require, and, nay, even enforce,
uncompromisingly, these lovely exactions upon me. I shall then, in my
womanhood, be fulfilled.
How I pity the unfulfilled, frustrated women of my old world whose sex and
dispositions, meaningless and largely useless in the bleak labyrinths of an
artificial world, must be thwarted, suppressed and denied, in the interests of
economic and mechanistic exigencies. How far are the barren, dismal corridors
of such a world from our native countries. How long my people have been lost.
How far we have drifted from our own hearts. How far we have wandered from
home. What can any journey profit us, if it is ourselves whom we have left
behind?
"But I speak foolishly, my Master," she said, "for what can such nonsense mean
to one such as you, one skilled in the mastery, Gorean in blood and power? How
little has your own world prepared you to comprehend such lamentations. How
meaningless they must seem to you. But suffice it to say that I, who was
brought to Gor, and put in a collar, and am an abject slave, am here a
thousand times more free than ever I was upon my native world. The thousand
trammels of my captivity on Earth I have here shed. As a slave I am more free
here than ever I was there. In coming here I have found myself, for the first
time, in a world such as that for which I, thousands of years ago, was bred.
Here I am a woman. Here I am happy."
I looked down upon her. I did not speak.
"I kneel before you, your slave, yours to do with as you wish. Command me, and
I shall obey. I am yours." She looked up at me, smiling. "Whip me, or terrify
me," she said. "I must accept. I must endure. I am a slave. But I wish to
please you. That is what I really wish to do. You can probably never know how
much I wish to please you."
I regarded her. I did not speak.
"I am before you, and you have not dismissed me. I gather then that I may
remain as I am, for the time, kneeling before you." She smiled. "I gather that
it pleases you, for some reason, to have me kneeling before you, naked, and as
your slave. I suppose that if I were a man it would please me, too, to have a
woman so situated before me. And I shall tell you a secret, my Master, for we
slaves may
not keep secrets from our masters. It pleases us women, too, to kneel thusly
before men, especially if we are slaves, for their perusal and inspection. And
it is our hope, too, that we will be found attractive by our masters. It is
they who own us, and we wish them to find us pleasing. How scandalous we
slaves are!" she laughed. "Oh, Master," she said, "if my girlish prattle
should displease you in the slightest, please indicate this by some gesture or
expression. I will then remain silent until I sense that it may, again, be
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acceptable for me to speak. I know well who is master here."
But I displayed to her no disapprobatory sign.
"Do you like my bells?" she asked, happily. "They have been put upon me for
your pleasure.
It excites me to be belled." She lifted her left arm, and turned it. There was [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]