Dancer of Gor

I removed the whip from the box and rose to my feet, and returned to the dais, where I climbed the stairs and knelt before Hendow. I kissed the whip, and holding it with both hands, my arms extended, my head down, between my arms, proffered it to him. I then rose to my feet and withdrew to the foot of the dais, where I stood.

I looked up at Hendow.

My bit of silk, on the rug, was at my feet, on the right.

He stood up. He was a very large man. On the dais, standing, he loomed over me. In his right hand was the whip. He shook out the coils. I was naked. I was small, and weak. I was collared.

"When you were first in this room, several weeks ago," he said, "you may remember that I said you were beautiful."

"Yes, Master," I said, warily.

I saw the blade of the whip swing a bit, almost indolently.

I regarded the instrument of discipline, frightened.

He suddenly cracked the whip in the air. It made a report like a rifle shot. I could not help but move, and cry out with misery.

"Think carefully," he said. "When I said that you were very beautiful, several weeks ago, the first time that I said it, you considered whether or not that might indicate an interest, or weakness on my part, and whether or not you might be able to exploit it."

"No, Master!" I cried, frightened. "No, Master!"

then I saw him approaching me suddenly, descending the steps, swiftly for so large a man, his arm drawn back.

"Please, no, Master!" I wept. Then I felt the lash. I stumbled back in agony, turned about, and fell to the carpet. There the leather once more informed me of the displeasure of my master. I screamed, miserable. Then another blow like lightning was on my back and I sobbed at his feet, on my belly on the rug. "Yes, Master!" I wept. "Yes, Master!" I thought such a thing, but I could not help it. I am only human. I am only a female! Do not punish me for what I could not help! I put the thought from me!"

I lay there on my belly at his feet. I did not care for the whip. I did not want it. I feared it, terribly. It hurt so. It is a quite effective instrument of discipline for females. It is no wonder the masters use it on us. It, and numerous other disciplines and devices, we so helpless, serve to keep us well in line.

"You have not been struck for that," he said.

"I do not understand, Master," I sobbed.

"I have not chosen to beat you for what you cannot help," he said. "It is clear to me that you had thought the better of your girlish vagary."

"Why, then?" I asked.

"Do I need a reason?" he asked.

"No, Master!" I cried. "No, Master!" the girl belongs to the master. He can do what he wishes with her.

"You do not know why you were struck?" he asked.

"No, Master," I said.

"Perhaps you are stupid," he mused.

"Perhaps, Master," I said.

"You were struck," he said, "because you lied."

"Yes, Master," I said. I lay there, startled, terrified now. How perceptive was this man! Earlier, weeks ago, once, and only briefly, I had considered, swiftly in fear putting the thought from me, that I might be able to use his interest in my favor, perhaps manipulating him, or, in virtue of it, somehow improving my lot. He had, it seems, sensed or understood, this transitory, swiftly rejected consideration, probably from some fleeting expression, or movement of my body, one I had scarcely been aware of. He had not chosen to punish me for that, a thing I could hardly help. For that I was grateful. To be sure, had I continued to consider such matters, I supposed he might have instructed me, sooner or later, with the whip or some other means, as to the unacceptability of such considerations. What he had whipped me for was something else, for now, just now, having lied to him.

He then gave me another blow and I scratched at the carpet in agony.

"Despicable slut!" he said.

"Yes, Master!" I wept.

He then struck me again, and tears burst from my eyes anew. I lay helpless before him, a punished slave.

"Kneel," he said, "swiftly, facing away from me."

I obeyed, in terror, almost frenziedly. I now faced the door.

"To all fours," he commanded.

I obeyed, trembling.

Twice more then he struck me, and the second blow, as I cried out with misery, sobbing, flung me again to the carpet on my belly.

"Kneel as you were before," he said.

I obeyed.

"All fours," he said.

I went again to all fours.

He then, crouching near me, reaching about me, put the whip to my lips. I kissed it, frightened, again and again.

"Kneel now, in the following fashion," he said. "Do not waste time." he then had me kneel with my head to the floor, my hands clasped tightly behind the back of my neck, I cried out, grasped, fixedly held, put to his fierce, disciplinary purposes.

He then drew back from me.

I was now on my belly on the rug, gasping in disbelief. I understood more of my slavery then than I had before.

I think he may then have ascended the dais, and perhaps resumed his place in the curule chair. I did not really know. I did not dare look back.