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who had well known the touch of a man, but she did stand as though owned. The
resistance was gone from her shoulders and diaphragm. Even the palms of her
hands, naturally now fell at her thighs, her left palm over her brand.
She had not been taught to stand in this fashion. The difference, subtle and
interesting, had been accomplished in the enslavement of the afternoon.. Now,
naturally, unaware of it, she stood as a slave girl. She knew now she stood
before the man who was her complete master, open to him, his slave. She stood
as a slave, because she now knew herself as a slave, and this knowledge was
reflected, inevitably, in her stance. It was natural that she now stand as a
slave.
She was a slave.
 Turn, said Marlenus.
Verna did so, gracefully, obediently. She stood, facing away from us.
 You see? asked Marlenus.
 Yes, I said.
Verna knew that she was beautiful. Moreover, she knew that her beauty was now
being surveyed, candidly, by two free men. I could sense, in her breathing,
and her carriage, that this excited her. It may well have excited her, for she
was a mere slave, and belonged to one of the men present. A girl in a collar,
as it is said, is not permitted inhibitions.
We observed her. She stood on the ball of her left foot. The left leg was
slightly, subtly, flexed, and her right leg was flexed, too, and much more
than the left. Her head was turned slightly to the right, as though she might
wish, did she dare, to look over her right shoulder. I noted the hamstrings.
They were not tight. They were lovely, beautifully resilient. Marlenus played
a savage game. I was pleased that they had not bee severed.
 You see? asked Marlenus.
 Yes, I said.
 There is now a readiness, said Marlenus.  She is still a raw girl, an
ignorant girl, but now there is a readiness.
I nodded.  Face us, said Marlenus.
 Yes, Master, said Verna. I marveled. Her lips were parted. She faced
Marlenus. I saw her breathing. She was excited. A girl in a collar is not
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permitted inhibitions. Simply standing before her master, in his collar, she
was visibly excited. I could scarcely conjecture the helplessness and violence
of her responses to Marlenus, should he deign to touch her.
 Do you sense in yourself a readiness, Marlenus asked her,  to serve as a
slave girl?
 Yes, she said,  yes, Master!
 Clothe yourself, said Marlenus.
Unsteadily, tears in her eyes, she did so.
Marlenus attention was again upon the board of the game.
 Ubara s Builder to Ubara s Builder Nine, said Marlenus. He moved the piece.
I responded to this with Scribe to Ubara s Builder Two.
Marlenus looked up. He glanced at the girl, absently.
 Serve us wine, he said.
 Yes, Master, she said.
I observed the board.
I wondered at women. It seems that they, in reality, care for tender, loving
men, who treat them with great consideration and solicitude. Yes, in their
dreams, it seems they find themselves forced to surrender, totally, to fierce,
dominating masters, who insolently and cruelly, though often with ironic
courtesy and tenderness, exact from their bodies, over a period of hours,
every last minute sensation of response of which their bodies are capable,
strong men, warriors, who, patiently, permit them no shield, who permit them
to withhold nothing, who permit them to save not a particle of their honor,
who will force them to yield themselves totally, helplessly, in complete and
utter surrender.
Gorean culture, of course, differs greatly from Earth culture. On Gor, for
better or for worse, the reality in which a woman, terrified, might find
herself is not altogether unlike that of her feared dreams on Earth, but on
Gor it is not a dream; it is as real as the steel of slave bracelets and the
commanding touch of a master.
I looked at Marlenus of Ar. He was lost in the game, his attention on the
board. I had not thought much of it before, but I now realized that he must be
attractive, enormously attractive, to women. He was broad and strong. He was
fierce and highly intelligent. He was as insolent, and rugged and handsome as
the crags of the mighty Voltai. He was uncompromising; he was powerful; he was
wealthy he controlled cities and men he was a tarnsman, master of the great,
predatory saddlebirds of Gor. He had taken, and owned many women. He seemed a
natural master of female flesh. Many women, just seeing him, had a spontaneous
desire to yield to him. Some high-born beauties of Ar, I knew, had begged for
his collar.
 Ubara to Ubara Four, said Marlenus.
I moved my Ubar s Physician to my Ubara Six, interposing it between the
Ubara and the Home Stone.
Marlenus and I watched her pour the wine. She poured it differently than she
had before. She knelt, her head down, the hair forward. I could see it in her
shoulders. She, a slave girl, poured wine for masters. That she was owned was
revealed, beautifully, in her serving.
I saw his collar gleaming at her throat.
Marlenus looked at me and smiled. I nodded. Verna was a slave.
She lifted her eyes to him, helplessly.
 Later, said Marlenus.  I must finish this game.
 Yes, Master! she whispered.
She withdrew, kneeling, and watched. Her eyes were on the board, but I
could see that she did not understand the game. It was only pieces to her. Yet
she sensed the struggle.
Sometimes she looked away from the board. She was breathing deeply.
Her fists would clench and unclench. There was a light sheen of sweat on her
body. The slave silk clung to her the more closely. She put her head back. Her
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thighs moved. She was in the torment of her need, often visible in a female
slave.
 Tarnsman to Ubara Six, said Marlenus. He moved his tarnsman to his
Ubara Six, my Ubara Four.
 Capture of the Home Stone, said Marlenus.
I had been crushed.
I shrugged. I stood up.
Verna s eyes shone. I had been defeated, and devastatingly, by her master. She [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]