Dancer of Gor

"Where is the little honey cake?" asked the fellow, looking about, squinting. He then fell forward, on his hands and knees, on the furs. He slipped to his stomach. His head lifted. His eyes were bleary with drink.

"I am here, Master," I said, shrinking back against the wall.

There were side panels on each side of the entrance to the alcove. Such panels, where they exist, are normally kept locked on the inside. These, however, were not locked. Such passages are rare in alcoves, and from alcoves to the rear of the tavern, without reentering the main floor area. Such exits have various utilities, such as making it unnecessary for a fellow on the way out to encounter another on the way in, and permitting a fellow to withdraw from the area unnoticed, perhaps thereby avoiding an enemy or enemies, and gaining time on them, perhaps two or three hours, while they wait for him to emerge. Too, as a general policy, many Goreans prefer rooms with at least two exits.

"Where?" asked the fellow, thickly.

"Here," I whispered.

The panels were well greased. They would be moved back quietly, behind the fellow on the furs.

The fellow moved himself to a sitting position, and sat there, half asleep, on the furs.

"Here," I whispered, again.

He blinked, sleepily, in my direction. He then went to all fours, to crawl toward me.

I did not know if he could reach me.

"Open your arms," he said, slowly.

I could smell his breath, heavy with drink, and garlic, and herbs, across the furs. I opened my arms, obediently, to him. Slave girls are not permitted to be fastidious. We must take what comes. What matters is that these fellows have paid their fees to out masters. Accordingly we must serve them with enthusiasm, skill and passion. They have paid their money. We must thus see to tit that we are marvels to them, that we serve them with eagerness and perfection. This is not a matter, incidentally, of serving regardless of our will and possible desires, or in spite of them, but of actually adjusting our will and desires, in such service. To be sure, some men enjoy taking a woman who hates them, and whom they hate, and reducing her to a panting, pleading slave, begging for a continuation of their touch, which they may then either grant or deny her, as it pleases them.

He crawled toward me, and then crouched, unsteadily, before me. I quickly took him in my arms, pressing myself gratefully against him. I hoped, even in this time, even in these circumstances, that I might gain from him a moment or two of relief. Perhaps my master" s men would not soon enter the alcove. Perhaps, best, they could decide they did not want this man. He was too heavy to hold. I lowered him to the furs. He was asleep. The two panels slid noiselessly open. "Back, slut," said the first of my master" s men.

I crept back against the wall.

I watched the other of my master" s men drag the fellow from the alcove by an arm.

"I see that your hands will have to be fastened behind you again tonight," said the first of my master" s men.

I put down my head.

"Turn about, kneeling," he said.

I did so. I expected him to put a belly chain on me, padlocked in front, with slave bracelets attached in the back. I had worn it the last eleven nights. But he did not do so. Instead I felt binding fiber cinched about my waist, and then my hands, wrists crossed, were, to this same fiber, tied behind my back. I did not understand this. He open the heavy collar, attached to the wall chain, which had been closed about my neck. He then drew me to my feet by an arm. "The Master wants to see you," he said.

"Master?" I asked.

"Be silent," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said.

22 Inquiries; Gagged, Hooded and Collared

"Spread your knees more widely, Tuka," said my master, Tyrrhenius of Argentum. I obeyed.

He regarded me, not speaking.

I knelt before him on a circular scarlet rug, he in a curule chair looking down at me. My hands were tied behind my back, to a length of binding fiber cinched snugly about my waist. His men were near him, the two who had been as my masters in my work.

"You are an Earth slut, are you not?" he asked.

"Yes. Master," I said. "That is, I am a woman from Earth, who was brought here and enslaved."

"A slut," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said. "I am a slut from Earth, who was brought here and enslaved." I supposed, in a sense, I had been a slut on Earth. Certainly I had been interested in men, and in sexual experience, even then, though I had been shy, and afraid of both. Here, of course, on Gor, there was no question about the matter. I had learned that here I was a slave slut, and an exciting and attractive one.

"What is the history of your bondage?" he asked.

I did not understand his interest in this matter. On the other hand, I supposed he had his reasons. He did not seem idly curious. Besides, he was a free man, and I, a female slave, had been asked a question.