Captive of Gor

15 My Master Will Have His Girl Please Him

"Ute!" I cried.

The guard, by the hair, threw me to her feet. I looked up at her with horror. The left side of her forehead was still discolored where I had struck her with a rock.

"I thoughta€”" I whispered.

She stood before the long, low shed, which I had seen before, when I had examined the camp. It was windowless, and formed of heavy logs. It had a heavy plank door, which was now open. When I had seen it before, it had been locked by two hasps and staples, secured by two heavy padlocks. A lovely girl, in brief work tunic, emerged, and went about the camp. I had supposed it a storage shed. I now realized it was a dormitory for female work slaves. And I realized, to my horror, that I would be such a slave.

"You wear a collar," said Ute.

"Yes," I whispered, knelling before her, my head down. I had seen that she, too, wore a collar. More importantly, about her forehead, tying back her dark hair, was a strip of rep cloth, brown, of the same material as the work tunic. I knew this meant that she had authority among the girls. Ena was high girl in the camp, but I suspected that Ute might be first among the work slaves. I began to shake.

"She is frightened," said the guard. "Does she know you?"

"She is known to me," said Ute.

I put my head down to the dirt before me. My wrists were still bound, fastened by the leather knots of the tarnsman, Rask of Treve. I was still unclothed. I wore only my bonds and, locked about my throat, a collar of steel.

"You may leave us," said Ute to the guard. "You have delivered the slave. She is now in my charge."

The guard turned and left.

I dared not look up. I was terrified.

"On the first day of my capture, at the first camp of my captors," said Ute.:I fell to Rask of Treve." She paused. "Suddenly, from the darkness, he stood before them. "Yield to me the female slave," he said. They would choose to fight. "I am Rask of Treve, he said. They then did not choose to draw their blades. With their own tarn goads, Rask of Treve drove their tarns from their camp. He then lifted me, bound, in his arms, and backed from the camp. "I thank you for the female slave, he said. And one of them said to him, "And we thank you, Rask of Treve, for our lives. Their journey back to the camp of Haakon of Skjern, afoot, will be long. Rask of Treve then brought me to his camp, where he made me his slave."

I looked up at Ute. "You wear the Kajira talmit," I said.

"The first girl of the work slaves," said Ute, "had been sold shortly before my capture. There had been dissensions, factions, among the girls, each wanting one of their own party to be first girl. I was new. I had no allegiances. Rask of Treve, by his will, and because, for some reason, he trusted me, set me above them all."

"Am I to be a work slave?" I asked.

"Did you expect to be sent to the tent of the women? asked Ute.

"Yes," I said. I had indeed expected to live in the tent of the women, not in a dark shed, among work girls.

Ute laughed. "You are a work slave."

I put my head down.

"You were captured, I understand," said Ute, "southwest of the village of Rorus."

I did not speak.

"Accordingly," said Ute, "you were still seeking my village of Rarir." "No!" I cried.

"From whence," said Ute, "you would have sought the island of Teletus." "No, no!" I cried.

"And on that island," she said, "you would have presented yourself to my foster parents, as my friend."

I shook my head in terror.

"Perhaps they might even have adopted you, in my place, as their daughter," suggested Ute.

"Oh no, Ute!" I cried. "No! No!"

"Your life would then have been quite easy, and pleasant," said Ute. I put my head down, in terror, to her feet.

By the hair, Ute, bending over me, yanked my head painfully up. "Who betrayed Ute?" she demanded.

I shook my head.

Ute's fists were excruciating in my hair.

"Who? she demanded.

I could not speak, so terrified I was.

She shook my head viciously.

"Who?" she demanded.

"I did," I cried. "I did!"

"Speak as a slave! demanded Ute.

"El-in-or betrayed Ute!" I cried. "El-in-or betrayed Ute!"

"Worthless slave," I heard a voice behind me say.

I turned, as well as I could, and saw, to my dismay, Rask of Treve. I closed my eyes, sobbing.

"It is as you said," said Rask of Treve, to Ute, "she is worthless." Ute removed her hands from my hair, and I put my head down.

"She is a liar, and a thief, and a traitress," said Rask of Treve. "She is utterly worthless."

"Yet," said Ute, "in a camp such as this, we may find uses for such a girl, there are many menial tasks to which she might be well applied."

"See that she is worked well," said Rask of Treve.

"I shall," said Ute, "Master."

Rask of Treve strode from where I knelt, leaving me with Ute.

I looked up at her, tears in my eyes. I shook my head. "You told him? I whispered. "He commanded me to speak," said Ute, "and I, as a slave, must need obey."

I shook my head.

"Your master knows you well, Slave," said Ute, smiling.

I put down my head, sobbing. "No, no."

"Guard!" called Ute.

A guard approached.

"Unbind the slave," said Ute.

I lifted my tightly bound wrists to the guard, and he undid the knots. I still knelt.

"You may now leave us," said Ute to the guard, and he left.

"Am I truly a work slave?" I asked.

"Yes," said Ute.

"Am I under your authority?" I asked.

"Yes," said Ute.

"Ute!" I cried. "I did not mean to betray you! I was frightened! Forgive me, Ute! I did not mean to betray you!"

"Go into the shed," said Ute. "There will be work for you tonight, in the kitchen shed. Tomorrow will be soon enough for you to eat."

"Please, Ute!" I wept.

"Go into the shed, Slave," said she.

I rose to my feet and, naked, entered the dark shed. Ute closed the door behind me, plunging me into darkness. I heard the hasps cover the staples, one after the other, and then I heard the heavy padlocks snapped shut.

The floor of the shed was dirt, but here and there, under my feet, I felt a rounded metal bar. I fell to my hands and knees and, with my fingers in the dirt, felt the floor. Under the dirt, an inch or so, and in some places exposed, was a heavy gridwork of bars.

Girls locked within this shed would not tunnel their way to freedom. There was no escape.

Suddenly, locked within, alone in the darkness, I grew panic-stricken. I flung myself against the door, pounding on it in the darkness with my fists. Then, sobbing, I slipped to my knees and scratched at it with my fingernails. "Ute!" I sobbed. "Ute!"

Then I crawled to one side of the door and sat down, my knees drawn up under my chin, in the darkness. I was lonely and miserable. I felt the steel collar, so smooth and obdurate, fastened on my throat.

I heard a tiny scurrying, of a tiny brush urt, in the darkness.

I screamed.

Then it was silent, and again I sat alone in the darkness, my knees drawn up under my chin. In the darkness I smelled the scent of the Torian perfume.

Ute was not particularly cruel to me, as I had feared she would be. She treated me justly, as she did the other girls. It might even had been as though it were not I who had betrayed her to the slavers of Haakon of Skjern. I did much work, but I did not find that I was doing more than the other girls. Ute would not, however, let me shirk. After I had recovered from my fear that she would exact a vengeance on me for betraying her, I found myself, eventually, becoming irritated, somewhat, that she would treat me with no more favoritism than the other girls. After all, we had known one another for many months, and had been together, I recalled, from well before the time when Targo had first crossed the Laurius northward to the compound above the town of Laura. Surely that should have counted for something. It was not as though I were a stranger to her, as surely were the other girls. Yet, in spite of these considerations, I was not treated preferentially! I had some consolation in the fact that certain other girls, who would try to be particularly pleasing to Ute, who would try to insinuate themselves into her favor, were treated with abrupt coldness. She treated us all alike. She kept herself remote from us. She did not even sleep or eat with us, but in the kitchen shed, where she would be chained at night. We respected her. We feared her. We did what she told us. Behind her lay the power of the men. Yet we did not much like her, for she was our superior. We were pleased that she treated others with justice, not giving them advantages and privileges over ours, but we were angry that the same justice was meted out, in turn, to us. We were not given advantages and privileges over them! Surely I, at least, should have received some consideration, for I had known Ute for many months, and we had been friends. Yet she treated me no differently than the other girls, scarcely recognizing me in my work tunic among the others. When I could, of course, I managed to avoid tasks, or perform them in a hasty, slipshod manner, that I might save myself inconvenience and labor. Ute could not watch all the time. Once, however, she caught me, with a greasy pan, which I had not well scrubbed, but had returned, not clean to the kitchen shed. "Bring the pan," said Ute. I followed her, and we walked through the camp. We stopped by the framework of poles, which I had seen before. There was a horizontal pole, itself set on two pairs of poles, leaning together and lashed at the top. I had thought, when first I had seen it, that it was a pole for hanging meat. The horizontal pole was about nine feet high. Beneath its center, on the ground, there was an iron ring. This ring was set in a heavy stone, which was buried in the ground.

I stood there, beneath the pole, by Ute's side. I held the greasy pan. "The girl's wrists," said Ute, "are tied together, and then she is tied. Suspended by the wrists, from the high pole. Her ankles are tied together and tied, some six inches from the ground, to the iron ring. That way she does not much swing.

I looked at her, holding the pan.

"This is a whipping pole," said Ute. "You may go now, El-in-or."

I turned and fled back to the kitchen shed, to clean the pan. After that I seldom shirked my work, and I made, generally, much effort to do my work well. It only occurred to me later that Ute had not had me whipped.

Often during the day, and sometimes for days at a time, most of the tarnsmen of Rask of Treve would be aflight. The camp then would seem very quiet. They were applying themselves to the work of the tarnsmen of Treve, attack, plunder and enslavement.

A girl would cry, "They return! and we, eager in our work tunics, would run to the center of the camp to greet the returning warriors. Many of the girls would be laughing and waving, leaping up and down, and standing on their tiptoes. I did not betray such emotions, but I, too, found myself eager, almost uncontrollably excited, to witness the return of the warriors. How fine they were, such magnificent males! I hated them, of course, but, too, I, like the others, most eagerly anticipated their return. And most of all was I thrilled to witness the return of their leader, the mighty laughing Rask of Treve, whose very capture loop I had felt on my own body, whose collar I wore, whose I was. How pleased I was to see him bring back yet another girl, bound across his saddle, a new prize. How skeptically, and eagerly, with the other girls, I would silently appraise her, comparing her, always unfavorably, on some ground or another, with myself. Once Rask of Treve, from the saddle, looked directly at me, finding me among the mere work slaves, in their work tunics. I had felt an indescribable emotion, an utter weakness, when our eyes had met. I put my hand before my mouth. How magnificent he seemed, how mighty among those mighty warriors, he, their fierce leader.

Many of he girls ran to individual warriors, their eyes shining, leaping up and seizing the stirrups, pulling themselves up and putting their cheeks against the soft leather boots. And more than one was hauled to the saddle and well held and kissed before being thrown again to the ground.

When the tarnsmen would return, with their captives and booty, there would be a feast.

I would serve at this feast, but when it came time for dancing silks and slave bells to be withdrawn from the ornate, heavy chests, I would be dismissed to the shed, where I would be locked, alone.

"Why am I never belled and put in dancing silk?" I demanded of Ute. I could scarcely believe that it was I, Elinor Brinton, who so protested. Yet I heard the words. "Why am in never allowed, late, to serve the men in their tents?"

"No man has called for you," said Ute.

And so I, my work tunic removed, would be locked in the shed at night. I would lie there and, through the crack beneath the heavy plank door, hear the music, the laughing, protesting screams of the girls, the laughter, the shouts of satisfaction, of victory of the men.

But no man had called for me. No man wanted me.

How pleased I was to be spared the ignominious usage to which the other girls, my unfortunate peers, were subjected! How I pitied them. How I rejoiced that I did not share their fate. I screamed with rage, and taking up handfuls of dirt, hurled it against the interior walls of the shed, within which I was locked. At the third or fourth hour of the morning, one by one, the girls, their silks now removed, would be returned to the shed. How stimulated they seemed, how untried. How they laughed and talked to one another! How vital they seemed! We had work the next day! Why did they not go to sleep? One would sing or hum to herself. Another would cry out some name, that of a tarnsman, to herself with pleasure. "Ah, Rim," she would cry out, twisting in the darkness, "I am truly your slave!"

I pounded my fists in the dirt, angry.

But they would be exhausted in the morning! In the morning they would be miserable enough! In the morning Ute would almost have to use whips to rout such lazy girls out of the shed!

I was pleased no one wanted me. I wept.

Sometimes there were visitors to the camp of Rask of Treve, though, one gathers, there were men in the confidence of Treve.

Generally they were merchants. Some brought food and wines. Others came to buy the plunder of the tarnsmen. Several of my work-mates were sold, and others, captured, brought in on tarnback, took their place, perhaps to be sold as well in their turn.

When I would, I would manage, in my daily tasks, to pass by the tent of Rask of Treve, that large, low tent, on its eight poles, of scarlet canvas lined with scarlet silk.

It was convenient to pass by the tent, you understand, for it was in the center of the camp, and thus often lay on the shortest route from place to place to place within the palisade.

Sometimes I saw the dark-haired girl, in red silk with the two golden bangles on her left ankle, when I passed by the tent. Sometimes I saw other girls. Once or twice I saw a stunningly figured blond girl in brief yellow silk. It seemed Rask of Treve had his choice of beautiful women.

I hated him!

One afternoon, after I had been some three weeks in the camp. Rask and his tarnsmen returned from a raid far to the north.

He had raided the slave compound of his old enemy, Haakon of Skjern. Among the new slaves brought to the camp were Inge and the Lady Rena of Lydius! Lana had not been captured. Inge and Rena were the only ones I knew among the new girls.

The morning following their capture, as I had been, they, and the others, were collared. They, like I, had spent their first night in the tent of the women. Following their collaring, however, as I had been, they were sent to the shed. When Rask had collared Inge he had shaken her blond head with his large hand. He seemed fond of her. And she had dared to put her cheek against his hand. How shameless she had become! Once of the scribes, she was now only a wanton, shameless slave girl! I wanted to tear her hair and eyes out! How pleased I was, and how startled she was, and the others, when Rask sent them to the shed, where they would be issued work tunics and find themselves work slaves in the camp! How Inge and Rena rejoiced when they found themselves forced to their knees before Ute! But Ute did not even let them rise.

They looked at her with horror.

"I am Ute," Ute told them. "I am first girl among the work slaves. You will obey me. You will be treated precisely as the other girls, neither better nor worse. If you do not obey me, exactly and promptly, in all things, you will be beaten." They looked at her, scarcely comprehending.

"Do you understand?" asked Ute.

"Yes," said Inge.

"Yes," said Rena.

"The slave, El-in-or," said Ute, "stand forward."

I had been hiding in the background. Ordered by Ute, I came forward. I saw Inge and Rena exchange glances of pleasure. I was frightened. "This is one of my girls," said Ute, "as you are. You will not be cruel to her." "Ute!" protested Inge.

"Or I will have you beaten," said Ute.

Inge looked at her, angrily.

"Do you understand?" said Ute.

"Yes," said Inge.

"Yes," said the Lady Rena of Lydius.

"El-in-or," said Ute, "take these new slaves and get them work tunics, and then return them to me, and I shall assign them their duties for the day." Inge and Rena, and the other new girls, followed me, and I took them to the chest at the side of the shed, where I could find them their simple, brief garments of brown rep-cloth, which raiment would constitute their sole work garment in the camp of Rask of Treve.

From the chest I took forth several of the garments, small, clean and neatly folded. I had washed several myself, and, sprinkling them with water, and sweating, had pressed them on a smooth board, using the small, heavy, rounded Gorean irons, heated over fire. I had folded them, too, and placed them in the chest. I threw the garments to the girls, the new slaves. They were naked, save for their collars.

"But I am a trained pleasure slave," protested Inge. She held the small, folded garment in her two hands.

"Put it on," I told her.

"I was of high caste!" cried the Lady Rena of Lydius.

"Put it on," I told her.

Then angrily Inge and Rena stood before me, clad in the brief, simple garments of female work slaves.

"You make a pretty work slave," I said to Inge.

She clenched her fists.

"You, too," said I to the Lady Rena of Lydius.

She glared at me in helpless fury, her fists, like Inge's, clenched. I looked at the others. "Put them on!" I cried.

The other girls, too, donned their tunics, and then I led them all, the new slaves, clad for work, back to Ute, who would instruct them in their duties for the day.

Four days after Inge and Rena, and other new girls, had been brought to the secret war camp of Rask of Treve, the tarnsman, and his fierce men, again returned from the work of warriors.

Again there was excitement in the camp.

I leaped to my feet.

"Finish your work," said Ute.

"Ute!" I cried.

"Finish your work," she said.

Behind the kitchen shed, I was ironing. To one side there was a large pile of laundered work tunics, which I had washed in the early morning. The smooth board was set before me, mounted on two wooden blocks. A bowl of water was nearby, and a fire, over which, on an iron plate fixed on stones, there were, heating, five, small, flat-bottomed, rounded, wooden-handled Gorean irons. I had been kneeling before the board, ironing the tunics, which I would then fold and place to one side. Behind the kitchen shed, I had not been able to see the alighting of the tarns. I could hear, however, the delighted cries of the girls and the loud, warm, answering shouts of the men.

I heard one of the girls cry out, "How beautiful she is!"

I supposed a new female had been brought to the camp.

Angrily I pressed one of the hot irons down on a work tunic, smoothing it. I must remain behind the kitchen shed, working, while they were permitted to greet the men! I wondered if Inge would be there, perhaps smiling and waving to Rask of Treve.

How furious I was!

But I reminded myself that I hated him!

In time the excitement, the cries and shouts, diminished, and I knew the men had dismounted, and any captive, perhaps bound, would have been sent to the tent of the women. The girls, here and there, returned to their labors.

I continued to iron.

About a quarter of an Ahn later, kneeling behind the board, ironing, I became aware of someone standing before me. I saw a pair of slim, tanned ankles. I lifted my eyes and saw slender, strong, tanned legs. And then, to my horror, the brief, tawny garment of a panther girl. And in the belt of the garment there was thrust a sleen knife. She wore barbaric ornaments of gold. I lifted my eyes to this tall, strong, beautifully figured female.

I put down my head, crying out in misery.

"She seems to know you," said Rask of Treve.

I shook my head negatively.

"Lift your head, Slave," said Verna.

I did so.

"Who is she?" asked Verna.

Rask shrugged. "One of my slaves," he said.

Verna smiled down at me. "You know me, do you not, Girl?" she asked. I shook my head.

Verna wore no collar. In her belt she carried a sleen knife. Rask of Treve, my master, stood near her. She was free, obviously free. She was not even a captive, let alone a slave. By the attitude of my master, I could see that she was, somehow, for no reason I could understand, a guest in this camp. "We met," said Verna, "first outside the compound of Targo the Slaver, north of Laura. Then, in the streets of Ko-ro-ba, you incited the slave girls to attack me. Later, south of Ko-ro-ba, when I was caged, among the prizes in the hunting retinue of Marlenus of Ar, you, with another girl, whose name was Lana, much abused me."

I put my head down.

"Lift your head, Girl," said she.

Again I did so.

"You know me, do you not, Girl?" asked Verna again.

I shook my head, no, no!

"Your Slave is a liar," said Verna.

"Shall I have her beaten for you?" asked Rask of Treve.

"No," said Verna. She looked down at me. "She is only a slave," she said. I put down my head.

"You are not to lie again in this camp," said Rask of Treve.

"No, Master, I whispered.

"My patience grows short with you, El-in-or," he said.

"Yes, Master," I whispered.

"I know little of such work," said Verna, "but are you not in danger of scorching the garment which you are ironing?"

I hastily drew away the iron, placing it on the fire-heated plate.

Fortunately the garment was not marked, else Ute, discovering it, might have punished me.

"Permit me, Verna," said Rask of Treve, "to show you the rest of the camp." Verna looked down upon me. "Continue with your work, Slave," she said. "Yes, Mistress," I said.

Then, together, Verna and Rask of Treve left me. Weeping, I continued to iron. That night I sneaked away, following my feeding, and before the time to be sent to the kitchen shed, to the tent of women.

"Ena!" I whispered, through the canvas of the tent.

Ena came from the tent and I, only a work girl, knelt before her, putting my forehead to the ground. "May a slave speak?" I begged.

Ena knelt down before me and lifted me, and held my arms. "Of course, El-in-or," she said. "What is it?"

I looked at her, gratefully.

"There is a new woman, a free woman in the camp," I said.

"That is Verna," said Ena, "a panther girl from the northern forests." "How is it that she is here? I begged.

Ena smiled. "Come with me," she said. She led me through the camp, until we came to a small, low tent. Before it, about a fire, there sat two brawny, magnificent huntsmen.

"They are from the hunting retinue of Marlenus of Ar," I whispered. I recognized them, both from the streets of Ko-ro-ba and from the merchants' stockade, on the trade route to Ar, where I and Lana had so abused Verna, she then being helplessly caged.

I noted that these two men were served, each by a slave girl. Inge and Rena were fetching in their work tunics. I could see that they were excited by their proximity to such men.

They were shameless!

"Those men," said Ena, "are Raf and Pron, huntsmen of Treve, though they range widely in their huntings, even to the northern forests. By order of Rask of Treve they, by their skill in weapons and their mastery of the techniques and lore of the hunt, and pretending to be of Minus, a village under the hegemony of Ar, made petition and successfully so, to participate in the retinue of the great Ubar." She smiled at me. "Treve," she said, "has spies in many places." "They freed Verna," I said. "Freeing her, they escaped to a preappointed rendezvous, where Rask of Treve, with his men, met them, and brought them, and Verna, here."

"But why would they wish to free her?" I asked.

"Verna is well know on Gor, as an outlaw woman," said Ena. "When it became known that Marlenus, in his hunting, for his sport, would seek her, Rask of Treve gave order for Raf and Pron to attempt to join his retinue."

"But why?" I asked.

"That," said Ena, "Marlenus, if successful, might be deprived of his prize?" "But why?" I pressed.

"There would be glory in the capture of such a woman," said Ena, "and, surely, ignominy in her escaping."

"You mean she has been freed only that Marlenus of Ar might be deprived of his prize?"

"Of course," said Ena. "Treve and Ar are enemies." Her eyes shone, and I had little doubt where her sympathies lay. "Is it not a superb insult to Marlenus and Ar!" she breathed.

"Yes," I said, "it is."

"Too," said Ena, thrilled, "is it not audacious that my master, Rask of Treve, places his war camp, from which he may despoil the fields and caravans of Ar, within the realm of might Ar itself!"

"Yes," I whispered. I then sensed something of the points of honor and of the nature of insults which scornful men, might warriors, might exchange. I shuddered, momentarily thrilled with the boldness of my master, Rask of Treve. Then I remembered that he had contempt for women, and that I hated him! "What of the other girls, those of Verna's band?" I asked. I particularly feared that the blond girl, she who had held my leash, might be freed. I had much abused her, throwing dirt on her and poking her with a stick in her cage. I was terrified of her. If she was free I did not know what she might do to me. "The others remain caged prizes in the retinue of Marlenus," said Ena. "Oh," I said. I was much relieved. I observed Inge filling the paga goblet of one of the huntsmen. She knelt closer to him than she needed to. Her lips were parted. Her eyes shone. Her hands, slightly, shook on the paga bottle. Rena knelt to one side. She watched her huntsman, gnawing the meat from a great bone. I could see that she was eager to leap up to serve him, should he but speak to her.

What shameless, wanton slave girls they were!

"Rask of Treve hates Marlenus of Ar," said Ena.

I nodded.

"Have you see the dark-haired girl who sometimes tends his tent?" she asked. "Yes," I said. I had indeed seen her. She was an incredibly beautiful slave female. She was even more beautiful than Ena, who was one of the most beautiful female slaves I had ever seen. Her hair was glossy and black, and her master had had her cut it at the small of her back. her features, and body, were breath-takingly beautiful. She had an exciting mouth and lips. She was a stunningly figured, green-eyed, olive-skinned slave girl. She would bring a high price on the market. Always she wore only the brief garment of scarlet, diaphanous silk. Always, about her left ankle, fastened, were two golden bangles.

"Do you know who she is?" asked Ena, smiling.

"No," I said. "Who is she?"

Ena smiled.

"El-in-or!" snapped Ute. "Get to the shed!"

I leaped up and, frightened, angry, fled through the camp to be locked in the shed.

I would soon learn who the beautiful dark-haired girl was.

Verna had her own tent in the camp of Rask of Treve, though often, when he was in camp, she dined with him. Sometimes, too, she would range beyond the palisade, beyond which other girls were not permitted, to walk and hunt. It was not infrequently that Verna requested that it be I who would tend her tent, and prepare her food, and serve her. I, collared, did so, fearfully. But she was not more cruel to me than to any other female slave assigned such servile duties. I effaced myself as much as possible, serving her as unobtrusively and anonymously as I could. She tended to ignore me, as one would a female work slave. I made certain I pleased her in all respects, for I greatly feared her.

Then, one night, on a feast night, for Rask had returned with new fair prisoners, Verna feasted in his own tent, and I, to my amazement, was ordered to serve them. Other girls had prepared the repast, which, for the war camp, was sumptuous indeed, containing even oysters from the delta of the Vosk, a portion of the plunder of a tarn caravan of Ar, such delicacies having been intended for the very table of Marlenus, the Ubar of that great city itself. I served the food, and poured the wines, and kept their goblets filled, remaining as much in the background as possible.

They talked of hunting, and war, and of the northern forests, as though I was not there.

Sometimes Verna would say, "Drink," and I would pour wine into her goblet, saying, "Yes, Mistress," and sometimes Rask of Treve would command me, saying "Drink," and I would then, similarly, serve him, saying "Yes, Master." Verna sat cross-legged, like a man. I knelt, as a serving slave.

She threw me one of the oysters.

"Eat, Slave," she said.

I ate.

In so doing this, she, the guest, had signified that I might now feed. It is a not uncommon Gorean courtesy, in such situations, to permit the guest to grant the feeding permission to the slaves present.

"Thank you, Mistress," I said.

Rask of Treve then threw me a piece of meat, that I might satisfy my hunger, for I had not been fed.

With my hands I ate the meat, a collared slave, while the free persons drank, and conversed.

Rask of Treve snapped his fingers. "Approach me, El-in-or," he said. I bolted down the meat. I approached him, across the low table behind which he sat on the rugs. (Pg. 302) He extended his goblet to me. "Drink," he said, offering me the cup. I looked at the rim of the cup. I shook with terror. "A slave girl dares not touch with her lips the rim of that cup which has been touched with the lips of her master," I whispered.

"Excellent," said Verna.

"She was trained in the pens of Ko-ro-ba," said Rask of Treve.

He then, from his own cup, poured some wine into a small bowl, which he handed to me.

"Thank You, Master," I breathed.

With his head back Rask of Treve gestured me to one side, and I went and knelt to one side, as I had before.

I put back my head and drank the wine. It was Ka-la-na wine. I felt it almost immediately.

"I have a surprise for you," Rask was telling Verna.

"Oh?" she asked.

I put down the wine cup, to one side.

Rask of Treve looked at me. He was in an expansive mood. He cut a large slice of juicy bosk meat. My mouth watered. He smiled, and then he threw it to me. I caught it, happily, and with two hands, began to feed on it.

"What is the surprise?" asked Verna.

Rask clapped his hands once, and four musicians, who had been waiting outside, entered the tent. And took a place to one side. Two had small drums, one a flute, the other a stringed instrument.

Rask clapped his hands twice, sharply. And the black-haired, green-eyed, olive-skinned slave girl stood before him. "Put her in slave bells," said Rask, to one of the musicians. The musician fastened leather cuffs, mounted each with three rows of bells, on her wrists and ankles.

"Please, Master," begged the girl, "not before a woman." She referred to Verna. I was only a slave.

Rask of Treve threw the girl one of the oysters, from a silver plate on the low, wooden table.

"Eat it," he said. There was a rustle of slave bells. She complied with the dictum of her master.

"It was destined for the table of Marlenus of Ar," said Rask of Treve. "Yes, Master," said the girl.

She stood facing him.

Verna and I watched.

"Remove your garment," said Rask of Treve.

"Please, Master," she begged.

"Remove it," said Rask of Treve.

The beautiful, olive-skinned girl parted the garment and dropped it to one side. "You may now dance, Talena," said Rask of Treve.

The girl danced.

"She is not bad, said Verna.

"Do you know who she is?" asked Rask of Treve, eating a piece of meat. "No," said Verna. "Who is she?"

"Talena," said Rask, smiling, "the daughter of Marlenus of Ar."

Verna looked at him, dumbfounded, and then she laughed a great laugh, and slapped her knee. "Splendid!" she cried. "Splendid!"

She leaped to her feet and, closely, moving about her, examined the girl as she danced, now slowly, to a barbaric, adagio melody. "Splendid!" cried Verna. "Splendid!"

Now the melody became more swift, and it burned like flame in the girl's slave body.

"Give her to me!" cried Verna.

"Perhaps," said Rask of Treve.

"I am the enemy of Marlenus of Ar!" cried Verna. "Give her to me!"

"I, too, am the enemy of Marlenus of Ar," said Rask. He held out his goblet and I, the meat on which I was feeding clenched between my teeth, filled it. "I will well teach her the meaning of slavery in the northern forests!" cried Verna.

I could see fear in the girl's eyes, as she danced. I continued to eat the piece of meat on which I had been feeding.

She was beautiful and helpless as she danced, before her enemies. The firelight glinted on her collar, which had been placed on her throat by Rask of Treve. But I did not feel sorry for her. She was no business of mine. She was only another slave.

"I have taught her something of slavery already," smiled Rask of Treve. The girl's eyes seemed agonized, as she danced.

"How is she?" asked Verna, who had now again resumed her place, seating herself cross-legged by Rask of Treve's side.

"Superb," said Rask of Treve.

Humiliation and shame shone in the eyes of the dancing slave girl.

"Where did you get her? asked Verna.

"I acquired her about a year ago," said Rask of Treve, "from a merchant of Tyros, who was traveling by caravan overland to Ar, with the intention of returning her, for a recompense, to Marlenus of Ar."

"What did she cost you?" asked Verna.

"I do not buy women," said Rask of Treve.

I shuddered.

"It is marvelous!" cried Verna. "Your secret camp lies within the very realm of Ar itself! Splendid! And in this camp you keep the daughter of your worst enemy, the daughter of the Ubar of great Ar itself, as slave! Magnificent!" I watched the girl dancing, the slave.

Rask clapped his hands again, twice, sharply. The musicians stopped, and the girl stopped dancing. "This is enough, Slave Girl," he said.

She turned to flee from the tent.

"Do not forget your garment, Girl," said Verna.

The slave girl reached down and snatched up the bit of red silk she had dropped aside and, holding it, with a jangle of slave bells, fled from the tent of her master.

Rask of Treve, and Verna, laughed.

I had finished my meat.

They again held out their goblets, and I again filled them.

"Tonight," said Rask of Treve to me, "because we have brought in new prisoners, there will be feasting and pleasure."

"Yes, Master," I said.

"So go to Ute," he said, "and tell her to lock you in the shed."

"Yes, Master," I said.

"Why do you not give Talena to me? asked Verna, of Rask of Treve.

"Perhaps I shall," said Rask of Treve. "I must think about it."

I left the tent, to find Ute, to tell her to lock me in the shed.

The next day, for the first time, on a leash with another girl, Techne, a girl of Cos, I was permitted beyond the palisade. A guard was with us, and we were charged with filling our leather buckets with ram-berries, a small, reddish fruit with edible seeds, not unlike tiny plums, save for the many small seeds. I had picked such berries before, with Targo's caravan. Indeed, the first fruit on Gor I had eaten had been such berries.

I was pleased to be outside of the palisade. The day was beautifully warm, and I felt happy.

I had often begged Ute to be permitted to go beyond the palisade to pick fruit. But, always, she had, for some reason, forbidden me this permission. "I will not escape," I had assured her, irritably. "I know," she had said. What then could have been her objection? At last, she had yielded to my entreaties and permitted me, leashed to Techne, to go beyond the stockade and pick berries. It was glorious to be outside the stockade, even though fastened by a leather neck strap to another girl. Moreover, today, two more female prisoners had been brought in, girls who had been fleeing from unwanted companionships, arranged by their parents. There would be another feast, as there had been last night, and this time Ute had told me that, if the berry picking went well, I need not be locked in the shed early this night. I would be permitted, late, to serve the feasters. I was pleased that the two girls had been captured. "I suppose I must be placed in silk then," I had said to Ute, angrily. "And slave bells," had added Ute.

How furious I had been!

"I do not wish to serve men," I had told Ute. "Moreover, I do not wish to serve them clad revealingly in a bit of silk and the bells of a slave girl!" "Well," said Ute, "you may, if you wish, remain in the shed."

"I suppose it is not fair to the other girls," I had said, "that I should be permitted to remain in the shed while they are forced to serve, so clad and belled."

"Do you wish to serve or not?" has asked Ute.

"I will serve," I had said, with an air of defeat.

"You will then be silked and belled," she said.

"Very well," I had said, dropping my head with resignation. I found myself looking forward eagerly to the evening.

I am sure that I would be among the most beautiful of all the girls. I wondered, if in silk and bells, Rask of Treve might notice me. How I hated him! "But," had said Ute, "if a man seizes you, you are not to yield yourself to him, for you are white silk."

A flash of irritation passed through me. "I am charged with the protection of my market value?" I asked, ironically.

"Yes," said Ute, matter-of-factly. "Though I, if I were a man, would pay more for a red-silk girl."

"I must do nothing," I said, "to diminish the investment of Rask of Treve?" "That is correct," said Ute.

"What if I am simply seized, and my attacker is not prepared to listen to reason? I asked. Ute laughed. It was the first time I had seen her laugh in the camp. I was pleased I had made her laugh.

"Cry out," said Ute, "and others will take you from him and get him a red-silk girl."

"All right," I had said.

Ute had then said to the guard, "Leash her." And I and Techne, leashed together, had been taken from the stockade. "Be careful, El-in-or," Ute had called after me.

I did not understand her. "All right," I had called back to her.

I now felt a tug on the neck strap. "Hurry, El-in-or," said Techne. "We must be back soon! Our buckets are not half filled!

I was irritated with Techne. She was young. She was a lovely slave, though fresh to the collar.

The sun was warm and its heat went through me, and I stretched happily. When neither the guard nor Techne were looking I stole berries from her buckets, to put in mine, handfuls. Why should I work as hard as she? Also, when they were not looking, I placed berries in my mouth, taking care that the juices not stain my lips, revealing that I had eaten them. I had done this sort of thing often before, when I had picked berries for Targo's caravan. Ute and the guard had never seen. I had fooled them all. I was too clever for them!

At last our buckets were all full, and we returned tot he camp of Rask of Treve. The guard handed our buckets to other girls to be taken to the kitchen shed, and he then unleashed us.

"El-in-or, Techne," said Ute, "follow me."

We did so.

She took us to that part of the camp near the horizontal pole, some nine feet high, resting across the two pairs of crossed poles, rather like a pole for hanging meat, or trophies, from. Near that pole, near the iron ring set in the stone, which was buried in the ground, Ute told Techne and I to kneel. To one side there was a brazier filled with white-hot coals. From the brazier there protruded the handles of four irons. The fire was quite hot, and it had apparently been heating for some two or three Ahn, perhaps even from the time we had went forth to pick berries.

I was apprehensive.

Two or three guards stood about, and some of my fellow female work slaves. One of the guards who stood nearby was the one who had taken Techne and I beyond the palisade to gather berries.

Some other men, and girls, from the camp, strolled over to the poles. Ute stood sternly before us.

Techne looked about, frightened. I was not pleased myself, but I appeared calm. "Techne," said Ute.

"Yes," said Techne, frightened.

"Did you steal berries from El-in-or?" demanded Ute.

"No, no!" she cried.

"El-in-or," said Ute, "did you, or did you not, steal berries from Techne?" "I did not," I said.

Ute turned to the guard.

"The first one," he said, "tells the truth. The second on is lying." "No!" I cried out. "No!"

Ute looked at me. "It is not hard to tell, El-in-or," she said. "Sometimes the guard sees you, sometimes he sees the shadow, or he hears what you are doing, or he sees the different amounts in the buckets. Sometimes he watches in the reflection of a shield hoop."

"No," I whimpered, "No."

"You frequently stole from me," said Ute, "but I asked the guard, who also knew, not to inform on you."

I put my head down, miserable.

"I will not steal berries again, Ute," I said.

"No," she said, "I do not think you will."

I looked up at her. "But this time," she said, "you stole from Techne, who is one of my girls, I cannot permit that."

"I didn't steal from her!" I wept.

Ute looked at the guard.

He shrugged. "She is lying," he said.

"I will not steal from her anymore," I cried.

"No," said Ute, "I do not think you will."

Ute then went to Techne. "Did you eat any of the berries?" she asked. "No," said Techne, frightened.

Then Ute stood before me.

"Did you, El-in-or, eat any of the berries?" she asked.

"No, Ute," I said. "No!"

Then Ute stood again before Techne. "Open your mouth and thrust out your tongue," she said.

I moaned.

Ute inspected Techne's mouth and tongue. "Good," she said.

Then Ute stood before me.

"Please, Ute!" I begged. "Please!"

"Open your mouth and thrust out your tongue," said Ute.

"Please, Ute!" I whimpered.

"Open your mouth and thrust out your tongue," said Ute.

I did so.

There was much laughter from the group.

"You may go, Techne," said Ute.

The young slave leaped to her feet and fled away.

I started to rise to my feet. "Not you, El-in-or," said Ute.

I knelt before her, trembling.

"Remove your garment," she said.

Terrified, I did so, and then again, as before, knelt before her, wearing only my collar.

"Now," said Ute, "ask a guard to brand and beat you."

"No!" I screamed. "No, no, no, no!"

"I will mark her," said a voice.

I turned to see Rask of Treve.

"Master!" I wept, throwing myself to his feet. "Hold her," he said to four of his men.

"Please!" I cried. "No, Master, no!"

Four men held me, naked, near the brazier. I could feel the heat blazing from the cannister. The sky was very blue, the clouds were white.

"Please, no! I wept.

I saw Rask, with a heavy glove, draw forth one of the irons from the fire. It terminated in a tiny letter, not more than a quarter of an inch high. The letter was white hot. "This is the penalty brand," he said. "It marks you as a liar." "Please, Master!" I wept.

"I no longer have patience with you," he said. "Be marked as what you are." I screamed uncontrollably as he pressed in the iron, holding it firmly into my leg. Then, after some two to four Ihn, he removed it. I could not stop screaming with pain. I smelled the odor of burned flesh, my own. I began to whimper. I could not breathe. I gasped for breath. Still the men held me.

"This penalty brand," said Rask of Treve, lifting another iron from the brazier, again with a tiny letter at its glowing termination, "marks you also as what you are, as a thief."

"Please, no, Master!" I wept.

I could not move a muscle of my left leg. It might as well have been locked in a vise. It must wait for the iron.

I screamed again, uncontrollably. I had been branded as a thief.

"This third iron," said Rask of Treve, "is, too, a penalty iron. I mark you with it not for myself, but for Ute."

Through raging tears I saw, white hot, the tiny letter.

"It marks you as a traitress," said Rask of Treve. He looked at me, with fury. "Be marked as a traitress," he said. Then he pressed the third iron into my flesh. As it entered my flesh, biting and searing, I saw Ute watching, her face betraying no emotion. I screamed, and wept, and screamed.

Still the men did not release me.

Rask of Treve lifted the last iron from the fire. It was much larger, the letter at its termination some one and a half inches high. It, too, was white hot. I knew the brand. I had seen it, on Ena's thigh. It was the mark of Treve. Rask of Treve had decided that my flesh should bear that mark.

"No, Master, please!" I begged him.

"Yes, Worthless Slave," said he, "you will wear in your flesh the mark of the city of Treve."

"Please," I begged.

"When men ask you," said he, "who it was that marked you as liar and thief, and traitress, point to this brand, and say, I was marked by one of Treve, who was displeased with me."

"Do not punish me with the iron!" I cried.

I could not move my thigh. It must wait, helpless, for the blazing kiss of the iron.

"No," I cried. "No!"

He approached me. I could feel the terrible heat of the iron, even inches from my body.

"Please, no!" I begged.

The iron was poised.

I saw his eyes and realized that I would receive no mercy. He was a tarnsman of Treve.

"With the mark of Treve," he said, "I brand you slave."

Then the iron, crackling and hissing, was pressed, deeply and firmly, into my flesh, for some five seconds.

I screamed and sobbed, and began to cough and vomit.

My wrists were tied before my body, by a long strip of binding fiber, which was then thrown over the top of the horizontal pole. The free end of the strap was secured to one side. The men stepped back.

I was sobbing.

"Bring the whip," said Rask of Treve.

I hung perhaps a foot from the ground. I felt my ankles lashed together, and then a strap tied them to the ring below, that set in the stone, which was buried in the ground. That way I would not swing much under the blows. Once, long ago, I had been beaten by Lana, with a handful of straps. I had never forgotten it. I was delicate. I could not stand pain. I was not a common girl. I had always feared, but never felt, the five-strap Gorean slave whip, wielded with the full, terrible strength of a man.

"Please, Master!" I cried. "Do not beat me! I cannot stand pain! You do not understand! I am not a common girl! It hurts me! I am too delicate to be beaten!"

I heard the men and girls about laughing. I hung by the wrists, miserable. My thigh felt as though it were burning. Tears, streamed from my eyes. I coughed, and could not breathe. I heard the voice of Rask of Treve. "To begin," he was saying, "you will receive one stroke for each letter of the word, "Lair," then one stroke for each letter of the word "Thief', and then a stroke for each letter of the word "Traitress'. You will count the strokes."

I sobbed.

"Count," commanded Rask of Treve.

"I am illiterate," I wept. "I do not know how many to count!"

"There are four characters in the first expression," said Inge.

I looked at her with horror. I had not seen her until now. I did not want her to see me being beaten. I saw, too, now, for the first time, that Rena, too, stood nearby. I did not want them to see me being beaten.

"You made a great fuss when you were branded," said Inge.

"That is certainly true," agreed Rena.

"Count," commanded Rask of Treve.

"One!" I cried out in misery.

Suddenly my back exploded. I screamed but there was no sound. There seemed no breath in my body. And then there was only pain, and I almost lost consciousness. I hung by the wrists. There had been the terrible sound of the leather, and then the pain.

I could not stand it.

"Count!" I heard.

"No, no! I cried.

"Count," urged Inge, "or it will go hard with you." "Count," pressed Rena. "Count!" The lash will not lower your value," she said. "The straps are too broad. They only punish."

"Two," I wept.

Again the leather fell and I gasped and twisted, hanging, burning from the pole. "Count!" said Rask of Treve.

"I cannot!" I wept. "I cannot."

"Three," said Ute. "I will count for her."

The lash fell again.

"Four," said Ute.

Twice, in my beating I lost consciousness, and twice I was revived, chilled water thrown on me.

At last the strokes had been counted. I hung my head down, helpless. "Now," said Rask of Treve, "I shall beat you until it pleases me to stop." Ten more strokes he gave to the helpless slave girl, who twice more lost consciousness, and twice more was awakened to the drenching of cold water. And then, as she scarcely understood, hanging half conscious in the fires of her pain, she heard him say, "Cut her down,"

The binding fiber was removed from her wrists but her hands, that she might not tear at her brands, were snapped behind her back in slave bracelets. Then, by the hair, she stumbling, scarcely able to stand, he dragged her to the small, square iron box which sat near the whipping pole, and thrust her within. Crouching inside the box, I saw the door shut, and heard the two heavy, flat bolts sliding into place. I then heard the click of two padlocks, securing them in place.

I was locked inside. I could see a tiny slit of the outside through the aperture in the iron door, about a half an inch in height and seven inches in width. There was a somewhat larger opening at the foot of the door, about two inches in height and a foot wide. The box itself was square, with dimensions of perhaps one yard square. It was hot, and dark.

I remembered that a slave girl, on my first day in the camp of Rask of Treve, had warned me, that if I lied or stole, I would be beaten and put in the slave box.

I moaned and fell to my side, my knees drawn up under my chin, my hands braceleted behind me. My thigh burned terribly, from the branding, and my back and the back of my legs still screamed from the cruel flames of the leather lash. Elinor Brinton, of Park Avenue, had been branded as a liar, a thief and a traitress, and a bold tarnsman, from a distant world, her master, had put into her flesh, insolently, the mark of his own city. The girl in the slave box was under no delusion as to who it was who owned her. He had collared her, and, with a hot iron, had placed in her flesh his brand.

In the slave box, she fell unconscious. But that night, cold, she awakened, still in pain. Outside, she heard the sounds of pleasure and feasting, that celebration called in honor of the capturing of two young girls, who had fled from undesired companionships, which had been arranged by their parents.

I remained in the slave box. The door was opened, when I was braceleted, only to feed and water me. I was not allowed to stretch my body. On the fifth day the bracelets were removed, but I was kept in the box. My brands had now healed. But the box itself, its heat, its darkness, its tiny dimensions, worked their tortures in me.

In the first days, braceleted, I screamed and kicked, and begged to be released. After my bracelets were removed, and the food then, and water, would only be thrust through the hole under the tiny iron door, I pounded, and screamed, and scratched at the inside of the box. I thrust my fingers through the tiny aperture and cried out for mercy. I feared I would go insane. Ute would feed me, and fill my water pan, but she would not speak to me. Once, however, she did say to me, "You will be freed when your master wishes it, not before." Once Inge came by, to taunt me. "Rask of Treve has forgotten you," she said. Rena, too, accompanied Inge. "Yes," she laughed, "he has forgotten you. He had forgotten you!" On the tenth day, instead of the pan of bread, with the water, Ute thrust a different pan under the door. I screamed. Tiny things, with tiny sounds, moved, crawling over and about one another in it. I screamed again, and thrust it back out. It had been filled with far, loathsome green insects which, in the Ka-la-na thicket, Ute had told me were edible. Indeed, she had eaten them. "They are nourishing," she had said. I screamed hysterically, pounding at the sides of the slave box. The second day, too, I thrust the pan away, almost vomiting. I saw Ute, through the slit, take one of the insects and bite it in two, eating it. The third day, almost vomiting, I ate five of them. They, such insects, and water, were my food for the remainder of my time in the tiny slave box. I would spend hours at the slit in the door, hoping to see someone walk by. I would call to them, but they would not answer, for one does not converse with a girl in a slave box. Then I was happy, even, to see someone pass by, or birds alight on the grass and peck for seeds. I spent eighteen days in the slave box. On the night of the eighteenth day, Ute, with Inge and Rena, crouched before the box.

"Does El-no-or, the slave, wish to leave the box?" asked Ute.

On my knees in the box, my eyes at the opening, frightened, my fingers on the slit, I whispered, "yes, El-in-or, the slave, wished to leave the box." "Does El-in-or, the slave, beg to leave the box?" asked Ute.

"Yes, yes!" I wept. "El-in-or, the slave, begs to leave the box!"

"Release the slave," said Ute, to Inge and Rena.

Elinor Brinton heard the padlocks unlocked. She heard the flat, heavy bolts slide back. She saw the small door swing open.

On her hands and knees, painfully, inch by inch, she crawled from the box. She then collapsed to the grass.

"Wash the slave," said Ute, with disgust, to Inge and Rena.

I screamed with pain as Inge and Rena stretched out my body, and then, with brushes and water, almost vomiting, they cleaned me.

After Inge and Rena had finished their work, even to the cleaning of my hair, a guard, summoned, not much pleased, carried me, helpless and in pain, back to the shed for female work slaves. There Ute, with Inge and Rena, fed me simple broths, which I gratefully drank. The next day, as Ute commanded, I remained in the shed, food and water being brought to me by Inge and Rena. On the following day I was returned to work. My first task was to clean the slave box, to rid it of its filth. After I had done this, naked, and had washed my body and hair thoroughly, I was again given the tunic of a work slave. I found it a very precious garment. I worked at a variety of tasks that day. Late in the afternoon, I was sent outside, leashed again to Techne, to pick ram-berries. I did not steal berries from her, nor did I eat any.

I was regarded in the camp with contempt and amusement. Not only were my ears pierced, but now, in my flesh, I wore penalty brands.

Once, two weeks after my release from the slave box, Rask of Treve passed near me, in the company of Verna, the panther girl.

I fell to my knees immediately, and put my head to the ground.

I was merely a slave girl who had been punished, and would be again, if need be. They passed me.

Neither of them noticed me.

One day became another in the secret war camp of Rask of Treve.

The tarnsmen, in their flights, did not have much luck, and many were the times when they returned, their saddle packs empty, their saddles bare of helpless beauties lashed across them.

Similarly, one day was much as another for Elinor Brinton, the female work slave in the camp of Rask of Treve. She rose at dawn and, until dusk, with her work companions, performed her repetitive, servile tasks. After the night feeding, she, with her work companions, would be ordered to the slave shed, where they would be locked for the night, only to be summoned again in the morning, ordered from the shed, for another round of their labors, tasks fit for such as they, female work slaves.

I learned to iron and sew, and to cook and clean. Verna could not have done these things. She hunted, and held converse with men.

It could be perhaps mentioned that such work, cooking, cleaning and laundering, and such, is commonly regarded as being beneath even free women, particularly those of high caster. In the high cylinders, in Gorean cities, there are often public slaves who tend the central kitchens in cylinders, care for the children, but may not instruct them, and, for a tiny fee to the city, clean compartments and do laundering. Thus even families who cannot afford to own and feed a slave often have the use of several such unfortunate girls, commonly captured from hostile cities. Free women often treat such girls with great cruelty, and the mere word of a free woman, that she is displeased with the girl's work, is enough to have the girl beaten. The girls strive zealously in their work to please the free women. Such girls, also, have a low use-rent, payable to the city, should young males wish to partake of their pleasures. Here again, the mere word of the free person, that he is not completely pleased, is enough to earn the miserable girl a severe beating. Accordingly, she struggles to please him with all her might. It is not pleasant, I fear, to be a public slave. The Gorean free woman, often, does only what work she chooses. If she does not wish to prepare a meal, she and her companions may go to the public tables, or, should they wish, order a girl to bring them food from the central kitchens. But I found, perhaps surprisingly, that I did not much mind the work of the female work slave. I recognized that it was essential, that it had to be done. I recognized further that there was something farcical in the thought of the Gorean male lending his hand to such small, unimportant work. It would have been like the larl with a broom. I could well imagine the accommodating solicitous males of Earth in aprons, puttering about with vacuum cleaners and boxes of detergent, but I could not imagine it of the Gorean male. He is so different from the males of Earth, so powerful, so strong, so uncompromised, so masculine. Before him it is hard for a female not to know herself as smaller and weaker, and thus to be given the tasks he does not care to perform. Similarly the Gorean free woman does not seem appropriately suited to menial tasks. She is too free, too proud. It is difficult for a collared slave girl to even to look into the eyes of such a person. Thus, who is to do such work? The answer seems obvious, that it be done by the slaves. The small, light, unpleasant work will be done by the female slave; the large, heavy, unpleasant work by the draft animal, or the male slave. Why should free persons do such tasks? They have slaves for such work. And I well knew myself to be a slave. It was thus natural that it should be. I, and my sisters in bondage, who performed such labors. How else could it have been?

"Hurry, Slave! Hurry in your work!" cried Ute.

I did so.

I did my work quietly, and seldom spoke to the other girls, not did they much speak to me. Though I often worked with then, I was, it seemed, always alone. When they sang at their work, or enjoyed laughter and sport, I did not sing, nor did I laugh, nor join them in their pleasures. I worked well. I was, I expect, one of Ute's best workers. Sometimes, when I would finish my work, I would help the other girls with theirs.

Once, when I was helping Inge, she said to me, "I thought you were too delicate to be beaten."

"I was mistaken," I said.

She laughed.

I no longer had an interest in lying or cheating, or shirking my work. I suppose, in part, it was that I was afraid of being punished. Surely I had not, and could not, forget the iron nor the whip's hot kiss. I much feared them. I could no longer even look on a slave whip without a feeling of terror, for I understood now the pain of its meaning, and what it might do to me. If a guard even lifted one, I would cringe. I would obey, and with promptness! Do not scorn me, until you yourself have felt the iron and the lash. But, too, somehow, perhaps unaccountably, lying and stealing now seemed to me small, and trivial, too petty to perform. I no longer regarded such behavior as clever, but now, rather, as unworthy or stupid, where one was caught or not. I had thought much in the slave box. I was not much pleased with how I had found myself to be. I knew that my body was a slave body, and that it was owned, and that it stood in constant jeopardy of fierce, swift punishment by a strong master, whether it might deserve that punishment or not. But, too, I felt I had, according to Gorean justice, well earned my beating and my branding, and my tortuous confinement in the slave box. I did not wish again to earn such punishment, not simply because I feared it, but because it seemed to me unworthy that I should have done the things for which I was punished. In the slave box, alone with myself, I discovered I did not wish to be the sort of person I had been, I had not been pleased to be locked in the box alone with myself, with such a person, forced there to face her and realize that she was your own self.

"Pierced-ear Girl!" cried a man. "Kneel."

I did so.

With his foot, he thrust me from his path, laughing, and continued on his way. Sometimes the other girls would trip me when I was carrying burdens, or dirty the work which I had done, that I must do over.

Once two warriors, for a joke, tied my ankles together and suspended me, upside down, from the whipping pole, spinning me about, and back, until I vomited and cried out for mercy. Laughing they then left, and Ute, with Rena, released me. "They are cruel," said Ute.

I wept, and kissed her feet.

I found that I no longer desired to serve in the evening, even should there be feasting. I wanted only my work, and to be left alone. In the evening, I wanted only the silence and darkness of the shed, with its padlocked door. In my flesh I wore penalty brands.

"Let El-in-or be it!" cried Ute, when the girls were playing tag.

"No," they cried.

"Do it," said Ute.

"Please, Ute," I begged, "let me go to the shed."

"Very well," said Ute.

And I went back to the shed.

The contempt and amusement which greeted me in the camp made me form within myself a core of hardness. I became withdrawn. I no longer desired to serve in the evening, should there be feasting. I wanted only my work, and the silence and darkness of the shed, with its padlocked door.

I wanted to be alone in the shed, behind the locked door.

There was only one thing left to me, in which I might take pride, that I was not as other women. No matter what brands might be fixed to my flesh, nor what the leather might do to my back or the tiny dimensions of the slave box to my body, I knew I did not have their weaknesses. I recalled the circle of the dance in the northern forest, and how even Verna, the proud Verna, had, beside herself with need, writhed helplessly beneath the bright moons of Gor, a female. How I had then despised her, and the others, so helpless and vulnerable and female! How weak they were! How pleased I was that I was not as they. Gradually, in me, there built up a compensating hatred to counter my shame, and the brands that proclaimed me among the most unworthy and miserable of slaves. I began to hate human beings. I was better than they. I would be better than they. I began to do my work with great efficiency and promptness, better than the other girls. I became exact in my speech, and, though I did not much express myself, quite critical of others. In spite of my brands, I would be superior to them all. I began to wear a new morality with a smugness. I became arrogant in my virtue, to the irritation of the other girls, but I did not care, for I was better than they. I would not now lie or cheat or steal, of course, but not now because I did not care for that sort of thing, or did not wish to behave in such a fashion, but primarily because I was not the sort of person who would do that sort of thing. Virtue, I discovered, in one way in which a human being may attempt to diminish and insult others. I used the blade of cooperativeness, of virtue, of diligence, of punctuality to proclaim myself on my moral superiority as a woman, above the self-indulgent, contaminating weaknesses of their piteous need. I was not as they.

"Tonight," cried Ute, happily, "you will serve, all of you!"

The girls cried out with pleasure.

This afternoon, for the first time in weeks, the raids of Rask of Treve had been successful. Eleven girls had been brought in, and much treasure. Laughing, bloody tarnsmen, with strings of pearls thrown about their necks, and cups and goblets tied at their saddles, and their saddle packs bulging with the weight of golden tarn disks, had brought their tarns down, wings beating, to receive the greetings of the camp. Merchants brought sides of bosk, and thighs of tarsk, and wines and fruits to camp, and cheeses and breads and nuts, and flowers and candies and silks and honeys. There was much bustle and laughter about the camp, much preparation and shouting. In the women's tent, eleven girls, tomorrow to be collared, crouched in fear. Slave girls staggered under the plunder, carrying it to the tents of the warriors.

"Tonight," had cried Rask of Treve, blood on his shield, his eyes like those of laughing tarns, "we will feast!"

The men had clashed their weapons on their shields and the girls had scurried away that the feast might be prepared.

I would not serve, of course, for Ute would excuse me. She knew I was not as the other girls. In the shed, scornfully, I watched them, eagerly speaking about the evening, laughing and joking. Such might well serve men.

Then, at Ute's call, they went from the shed, happily, to receive silks and bells.

How I scorned them, such pitiful weaklings!

I remained in the shed. I would retire early. I would need rest, for I must work tomorrow.

"El-in-or, come forth!" I heard. It was Ute's voice.

I was puzzled.

I got to my feet and went outside the shed. There was a mirror there, and cosmetics and silks and bells. There were no men about. The girls were preparing themselves.

I looked at Ute.

"Remove your clothing," she said.

"No!" I cried. "No!"

I quickly, in anguish, removed the garment. There was a jangle of slave bells, wrapped in a bit of silk, as Ute threw me bells and silk.

"Please, Ute!" I wept. "No!"

The other girls looked up from their work, and laughed.

"Ute," I begged, "please, please no!"

"Make yourself pleasing, Slave," said Ute, and turned away.

I slipped on the bit of silk. I looked in the mirror and shuddered. I had been naked before men, many times, but it did not seem to me that I had been so naked as this. It was Gorean pleasure silk. Not naked, I seemed more than naked. I waited my turn before the mirror and applied the cosmetics of the Gorean slave girl. I knew well how to do this, for I had been trained.

I buckled the slave bells on my left and right ankles, and then I went to Ute. "Please, Ute," I begged.

She smiled. "You come to ask to be belled?" she asked.

I put my head down. Ute was adamant. "Yes," I said.

Ute took the other slave bells and buckled one strap, with its two small buckles, like the ankle straps, except smaller, about my left wrist, and then buckled the other strap, with its two small buckles, about my right wrist.

I was belled.

I stood about, miserably, while the other girls finished their primping. How exciting they were in their silk, their bells and cosmetics.

"You are not unattractive," said Ute to me.

I said nothing. I was miserable.

In a few minutes, Ute, who retained her work tunic, and would not serve, reviewed us, commenting here and there, and recommending small changes upon occasion. We were her girls, and she wished us to present ourselves well. She stopped before me.

"Stand prettily," she said.

Furiously, I did so.

Ute went to the chest of silks and bells and brought forth five more slave bells, which she tied with bits of scarlet ribbon to my collar.

"There is something missing," she said, standing back.

I did not respond.

She went again to the chest. The girls gasped. As I stood there two large, golden earrings were thrust through the piercings of my ears and fastened on me. There were tears in my eyes.

"And here," said Ute, "lest the ardor of the men become too strong, this!" The girls laughed. She took a white, silken ribbon and wrapped it five times about the collar, not tying it.

I had been marked white silk.

Inge and Rena laughed. "Do not laugh," smiled Ute, "for you, too, will be so marked, lest Raf and Pron, huntsmen of Treve, in a careless moment, devour my two other white-silk pretties."

The other girls laughed. I could see, to my irritation, that Inge and Rena did not much care to wear the white ribbon. I could not understand this. Did they wish to be used as helpless slaves by handsome, powerful Raf and Pron? I supposed they did, and I despised them in their weakness. Inge had been of the scribes and Rena had been free. She had been even the Lady Rena of Lydius! Now they seemed to be naught but female slaves. I was pleased that I was not such as they.

But how shamed I was, that I, Elinor Brinton, of Park Avenue, must appear before men and serve them, so clad and so belled.

Ute touched me, and the others, then, with a bit of perfume. I was in anguish. "Serve, Slaves!" laughed Ute, clapping her hands, and the girls fled to the center of the camp, where I heard the shouting of pleasure of men, welcoming them.

Ute and I stood facing one another.

"Serve, Slave," said Ute.

Angrily I, perfumed and rouged, belled and silked, turned and followed the other girls to the center of the camp, near the great tent of Rask of Treve, of scarlet canvas lined with scarlet silk, on its eight poles.

"Wine! Bring me wine!" shouted the warrior.

I, a slave girl, with a rustle of silk and slave bells, hurried to him, a master, to serve him.

Kneeling, I filled his cup.

The music of those of the caste of musicians was heady, like the wine. There was shouting and laughing, the pleasurable moaning and crying out of girls used beyond the rim of firelight.

There was much feasting, and drinking.

On the sand, before the warriors, belled, in scarlet silk, the girl, Talena, danced.

Some of them shouted, and threw bones and pieces of meat at her.

I tired to rise, but the warrior whose cup I had filled had his hand in my hair. "So, you are a liar, and a thief, and a traitress? he asked.

"Yes," I said, terrified.

He turned my head from side to side, looking at the earrings. He was drunk, and I could tell that he was aroused. "More wine," he said.

I again filled his cup.

"Your ears are pierced," he said, shaking his head, trying to clear his vision. "If it please Master," I whispered. "If it please Master."

"Wine!" cried the other man.

I tried to rise.

Talena was driven from the sand and another girl, belled, stood forth to please the men.

At the head of the feast sat the magnificent Rask of Treve, in his victory. At his side, cross-legged, sat Verna, the panther girl, who was served by we girls as might have been a warrior. How I envied her her freedom, her beauty, her pride, and even the simple opacity of the brief garment she wore. She was not clad in a bit of silk, a touch of cosmetics, a scent of perfume and the bells of a slave.

The man whom I had served wine reached clumsily for me.

"I am white silk!" I cried, shrinking back.

"Wine! cried the other man.

I tried to rise, but the man's hand was knotted in the silk. If I moved I would strip myself.

Another girl, on her knees, reaching for him, holding his head, insinuated herself between us. "I am red silk," she murmured. "Touch me! Touch me!" His hand left my silk and I darted away.

I fled to the other man and served him.

"Wine!" called Verna. I ran to her and, kneeling, filled her cup.

"Wine," said Rask of Treve, holding forth his cup.

I could not meet his eyes. All of me blushed red before him, my master. I filled his cup.

"She is pretty," said Verna.

"Another girl, with jeers, was driven from the sand, and another took her place. "Wine!" cried another man, about the circle.

I leaped up and, carrying the vessel, with a clash of slave bells, ran to serve him. I tipped the vessel, but the wine was gone. I must fetch more. "Run, Girl!" he cried. "Fetch wine!"

"Yes, Master!" I cried.

I fled from the firelight. I stumbled over two figures, rolling in the darkness. A warrior cursed. I suddenly saw, rolled on her back, her dark hair loose, under the moons of Gor, Techne, her lips parted, reaching for the warrior. I fled into the darkness, toward the kitchen shed. Before I reached it I felt myself seized in a man's arms, and felt his leather. His bearded face pressed to my softness. "No!" I cried. He took my face in his hands. There were bells on my collar. "You are the slave, El-in-or," he said, the little liar, the thief and traitress." I tried to twist away. He saw the earrings of gold, and I felt his hands hard on my arms, hurting them. "I am white silk!" I cried. He shook his head and looked at the collar. About it, wrapped there by Ute earlier, was the ribbon of white silk. He was furious. He did not release me. I could hear, from back at the fire, yet another girl jeered from the sand. "Please," I whispered. "I am white silk! I am white silk." Another shout from the fire indicated that a new girl now addressed herself to the pleasure of the feasters, and one, it seems, pleasing to them. "I would like to see you dance, little traitress, " he said. "I must fetch wine," I said, and twisted away, running toward the kitchen shed. There I found Ute. "Do not send me back, Ute!" I wept. "Fetch your wine and return," said Ute. I dipped the wine vessel into the great stone jar, again filling it. "Please, Ute!" I wept. I could hear more shouting back at the fire. "El-in-or!" I heard shout. "El-in-or, the traitress!"

I was terrified.

"They are calling for you," said Ute.

"Come, Slave, to the sand!" ordered a man's voice. It was the fierce, bearded fellow, who had accosted me as I had fled to the kitchen shed.

"Hurry, Slave!" cried Ute. Hurry!"

With a cry of misery, spilling wine over the brim of the vessel, I slipped past the man in the doorway of the kitchen shed, and ran back to the firelight.

When I reached the feasters another girl took from me the wine.

I was thrust rudely to the center of the sand. I felt a hand tear away the bit of silk I wore. I cried out in misery and covered my face with my hands. "Liar!" I head cry.

"Thief!" "Traitress!" I heard cry.

The musicians began to play.

I fell to my knees.

The girls began to jeer. The men shouted angrily. "Bring whips!" I heard cry. "Dance for your master, Slave," I heard Verna call out.

I extended my hand to Rask of Treve, piteously. I was suddenly aware, behind me, of a warrior, standing. In his right hand, the lashes looped in his left, he held a slave whip. I cried out with misery, my hand extended to Rask of Treve, my eyes pleading. He must show Elinor Brinton mercy!

Burt she would be shown no mercy.

"Dance, Slave," said Rask of Treve.

I leaped to my feet, my hands held over my head. The musicians again began to play.

And Elinor Brinton, of Park Avenue, of Earth, a Gorean slave girl, danced before primitive warriors.

The music was raw, melodious, deeply sensual.

I suddenly saw, scarcely comprehending, the awe in their eyes. They were silent, their fierce eyes bright. I saw their hands tighten, the shoulders lean forward. I danced.

Well had I been trained in the pens of Ko-ro-ba. Not for nothing had it been I and Lana who had been among the most superb of the slave females then in the pens.

In the firelight, in the sand, before warriors, I danced. My feet, belled, struck in the sand. The perfume was wild about me, swift in the brightness and the shadows. On my lips I wore slave rouge. I danced.

I could see the eyes of the men, the movements of their bodies. I realized, suddenly, in the dance, that I had power in my beauty, incredible power, power to strike men and stun them, to astonish them in the firelight, to make them, if I wished, mad with the wanting of me.

"She is superb!" I heard whisper.

I danced toward him, he who had said this, and he leaped toward me, but two of his fellows seized him, holding him back. I danced back, my hands held to him, as though I had been torn from him.

"Aiii!" he cried.

There were shouts of pleasure.

I saw the girls watching too, their eyes wide, too, with pleasure.

I threw back my head and the bells flashed at my ankles and wrists, and in my body the music, in its bright flames, burned.

I would make them mad with the wanting of me!

I would do so.

Something deep and female within me emerged, something I had never felt before. I would torture them! I did have power. I would make them suffer!

I was white silk!

It was safe to dance before them as I pleased.

And so Elinor Brinton danced to torment them.

They cried out with anguish and pleasure. How pleased I was in my power! As the music changed so, too, did the dancer, and she became as one with the music, a frightened girl, new to the collar, a timid girl, delicate and submissive, a lonely slave, yearning for her master, a drunken wench, rejecting her slavery, a proud girl, determined to be defiant, a raw, red-silk slave, mad with the need for a master's touch.

And, too, as I danced, I would sometimes dance toward a warrior, sometimes as though begging him his glance, sometimes as though seeking his protection in my plight, sometimes as though I could not help myself, but was drawn to him, helplessly, in the vulnerability of the female slave, sometimes, when I chose, to deliberately, overtly and cruelly, taunt him with my beauty, my desirability, and my inaccessibility.

More than one cried out with rage and reached toward me, or shook his fist at me, but I laughed, and danced back away from him.

Then, as the music struck towards its swirling peaks I unaccountably, boldly, for no reason I understood, faced Rask of Treve, and before him, my master, I danced. His eyes were expressionless. He sipped his wine. I danced my hatred for him, to make him mad with the desire of me, which desire I could then frustrate, which desire I could then, in my strength, for I was not as other women, for I did not have their weaknesses, fail to fulfill! I could hurt him, and I would! He had captured me! He had enslaved me! He had lashed and branded me! He had put me in the slave box! I despised him. I hated him. I would make him suffer! How desperately, in my dance, I tried to arouse him! Yet his eyes remained expressionless. And, from time to time, observing me through narrowed lids, he would sip his wine. And then I knew my body was dancing something to him that I could not understand, that I feared. It was strange. It was as though my body would, in its own right, speak to him, as though it were trying, on some level I could not comprehend, to communicate to him. And then again I was as I was before, and could dance my contempt and hatred for him. He seemed amused. I was furious.

When the music finished, I fell to my knees, insolently, before him, my head to the ground.

There were many shouts of acclaim, and pleasure, from the men, and even from the girls, who struck their left shoulders with the palms of their hands. "Shall I have her whipped?" asked a man of Rask of Treve.

I was frightened.

"No," said Rask of Treve.

He gestured that I should leave the sand. "Bring others forward to dance," he said. I picked up the bit of silk which had been torn from me and left the sand, putting it on. I was sweating, I was breathing heavily.

Inge and Rena thrust forward by Raf and Pron, that they might please the feasters.

There was more shouting.

I walked into the darkness.

I encountered Ute, outside the rim of the firelight. "You are beautiful, El-in-or," she said.

I followed her to the kitchen shed. There, with water, and oils, and towels, she bade me clean and refresh my body. I did so, and prepared to go to the shed. "No," said Ute.

I looked at her.

"Prepare yourself as you did before," she said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Do so," she said.

Again I prepared myself, as I had been earlier in the evening, as a belled, silken-clad, rouged Gorean slave girl.

"Now," said Ute, "we will wait."

For more than two Ahn we sat in the kitchen shed. Then the feasting grew less, and the warriors, taking what wenches pleased them, went to their tents. Ute approached me and, behind each ear, touched me afresh with perfume. I looked at her puzzled. Then I shook my head. "No," I cried, "no!" Her eyes were hard.

"Go to the tent of Rask of Treve," she said.

"Enter," said Rask of Treve.

I was alone, defenseless in his war camp, his slave.

I entered the tent.

"Tie shut the tent flaps," said he.

I turned and tied shut the flaps, with five cords, fastening myself in the tent with him.

I turned to face him, his girl.

There was a small fire in the fire bowl in the tent, and the tiny tripod set above it, where wine might be warmed.

The interior of the tent was lined with red silk. The hangings were rich. There were, here and there, small, brass tharlarion-oil lamps, hanging from projections set on the tent poles. At the sides of the tent, where it sloped downward, there were many chests, and kegs and sacks, filled with the booties and plunders of many raid. Several of the chests were open, and from some of the sacks, onto the rugs, spilled pieces of gold. I could see the glint of the precious metals, and the refulgence of gems, reflecting the light of the fire and the lamps.

Rask of Treve owned much.

"Come closer," he said.

I heard the bells of a slave girl approach him.

I stopped, head down, several feet from him. My bare feet sunk into the deep, soft, scarlet, intricately wrought rugs which floored the tent. I felt the pile about my ankles.

"Come closer," he said.

Once again there was a rustle of slave bells.

I stood before him.

"Lift your head, Girl," he said.

I looked into his eyes. I wore his collar. I quickly dropped my head. I felt his large hands part the bit of silk that I wore and, gently, drop it about my ankles.

He turned from me and went to sit down, cross-legged, some feet behind the tiny fire in the fire bowl.

We regarded one another.

"Serve me wine," he said.

I turned and, among the furnishings of the tent, found a bottle of Ka-la-na, of good vintage, from the vineyards of Ar, the loot of a caravan raid. I then took the wine, with a small copper bowl, and a black, red-trimmed wine crater, to the side of the fire. I poured some of the wine into the small copper bowl, and set it on the tripod over the tiny fire in the fire bowl.

He sat cross-legged, facing me, and I knelt by the fire, facing him. After a time I took the copper bowl from the fire and held it against my cheek. I returned it again to the tripod, and again we waited.

I began to tremble.

"Do not be afraid, Slave," he said to me.

"Master!" I pleaded.

"I did not give you permission to speak," he said.

I was silent.

Again I took the bowl from the fire. It was now not comfortable to hold the bowl, but it was not painful to do so. I poured the wine from the small copper bowl into the black, red-trimmed wine crater, placing the small bowl in a rack to one side of the fire. I swirled, slowly, the wine in the wine crater. I saw my reflection in the redness, the blondness of my hair, dark in the wine, and the collar, with its bells, about my throat.

I now, in the fashion of the slave girl of Treve, held the wine crater against my right cheek. I could feel the warmth of the wine through the side of the crater.

"Is it ready? he asked.

A master of Treve does not care to be told that his girl thinks it is. He wished t be told Yes or No.

"Yes," I whispered.

I did not know how he cared for his wine, for some men of Treve wish it warm, others almost hot. I did not know how he wished it. What if it were not as he wished it!

"Serve me wine," he said.

I, carrying the wine crater, rose to my feet and approached him. I then knelt before him, with a rustle of slave bells, in the position of the pleasure slave. I put my head down and, with both hands, extending my arms to him, held forth the wine crater. "I offer you wine, Master, I said.

He took the wine and I watched, in terror. He sipped it, and smiled. I nearly fainted. I would not be beaten.

I knelt there, while he, at his leisure, drank the wine.

When he had almost finished, he beckoned me to him, and I went to kneel at his side. He put his hand in my hair and held my head back. "Open your mouth," he said.

I did so, and he, spilling some from the broad rim of the crater, I feeling it on my chin, and throat, as it trickled under the collar, and body, poured the remainder of the wine down my throat. It was bitter from the dregs in the bottom of the cup, and, to my taste, scalding. I, my eyes closed, my head held painfully back, throat burning, swallowed it. When I had finished the wine he thrust the wine crater into my hands. "Run, El-in-or," he said, "put it back, and return to me." I ran to the side of the tent and put back the wine crater, and fled back to his side.

"Stand," he said.

I did so, unsteadily.

My head swirled. Suddenly, in my body, like a drum, I felt the hot wine. He had made me run that I might feel it even the sooner.

I looked at him, unsteadily, angrily.

"I hate you!" I cried. Then I was terrified that I had uttered this. It was the wine.

He did not seem angry, but sat there, regarding me.

I was emboldened.

I was suddenly conscious of the earrings in my ears. He was looked at them. "I hate you!" I cried again.

He said nothing.

"You captured me!" I wept. "You put me in a collar!" I wept. I seized the collar and tried to pull it from my throat. It remained inflexibly fastened on me, marking me his slave. There had been only the jangle of bells Ute had tied to the steel.

He said nothing.

"You branded me!" I cried. "You whipped me, and put me in the slave box!" He did not deign to speak to me.

"You do not understand," I cried. "I am not even of this world. I am not one of your Gorean women, with whom you may do as you please. I am not a servile thing! I am not a piece of property! I am not a pretty animal that you can buy and sell! I am Elinor Brinton. I am of the planet Earth! I belong in New York City! I live on Park Avenue, in a great building! I am rich! I am educated! On my world I am an important person! I am of Earth, of Earth! You cannot treat me as a simple slave!" Then I put my head in my hands. What could he, an ignorant barbarian warrior, know of such things. He must think me mad. I wept. Then, to my terror, I realized he was standing beside me. He was so large. I felt so small, and weak.

"I am of the warriors," he told me, "which is a high caste. I have been educated in the second knowledge, so I know of your world. Your accent marked you as barbarian."

I looked up at him.

"I know you are of the world which you call Earth," he said.

I regarded him, dumbfounded.

"The women of Earth," he said, "are worthy only to be the slaves of the men of Gor."

His hands were on my arms. I looked up at him, in terror.

"You are my slave," he said.

I was speechless.

Suddenly he threw me from him, violently I was hurled stumbling and falling to the rugs. I looked up at him from the rugs, terrified.

"You," he said,wear on your thigh the brand of a liar. You wear on your thigh the brand of a thief. You wear on your thigh the brand of a traitress!" "Please!" I wept.

"Pierced-eared girl!" he said, scornfully.

My hands, inadvertently, went to the rings in my ears. There were tears in my eyes.

To my terror I saw him unroll heavy furs and cast them scornfully over the rugs near the small fire.

Imperiously he pointed to them.

"Please!" I wept.

His finger inexorably indicated the furs.

I rose to my feet and, with a rustle of slave bells, approached him. I felt his hands on my arms. "You come from a world," he said, "in which women are the natural slaves of such men as those of Gor."

I could not look at him.

"And you are a liar," he said, "and a thief, and a traitress."

I then felt his face near mine.

"Do you know the perfume you wear?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"It is the perfume of a female slave," he said.

I put down my head.

I felt his hand on my head, lifting it. He was regarding the earrings. I put down my head again.

"Pierced-ear girl," he said.

I could not speak, but only tremble.

I then felt, to my dismay, his hand tear the ribbon of white silk from my collar. He threw it aside.

"No!" I begged him "You will be treated as what you are," he said, "as the lowest and miserable slave on Gor."

I dared not look into the eyes of my master.

"Lift your head, Girl," he said.

I heard the bells on my collar move as I did as I was commanded.

I looked into his eyes, and then, helplessly, thrust down my head. My entire body began to tremble, uncontrollably.

Never had I seen such eyes, terrible and dark, keen, those of a warrior. I stood before him, alone with him in his tent, at his mercy. My head was down. I felt small and helpless.

Then he took me in his arms.

With a jangle of slave bells and a cry of anguish I was forced back on the furs.