Dancer of Gor

I would approach the men, head down. I would ask, "Water, Master?" of each. Before those who wished water, I would kneel and pour them a cup. It was appropriate that I knelt, as I was a slave, and they were free, though currently bound, justly or unjustly, in servitude. It is common, incidentally, for a slave to kneel before free men in serving them drink. "Wine, Master?" is a common expression. In it the slave usually offers the master, not only drink, say, the wine in the cup, but also, implicitly, the wine of her love, body and beauty. I had begged not to serve this chain. My pleas had been ignored, or mocked. If they had no concern for my feelings, had they, too, no concern with their employer" s property, that they would subject it to such risk? Then I recalled that Ionicus of Cos had paid more for me, a great deal more, than is common for a female work slave, and that this had to do with his "amusement."

I looked at the chain, and shuddered. There were fifty men on the chain. Twenty-three of them I had helped to entrap in Argentum.

I moved slowly through the sand, toward them. Then I stopped and looked wildly back, upward, toward the top of the rise. Could I not be given a gesture of mercy, that I might turn about and flee back, scrambling up that loose sand to the comparative safety of the ridge, to seek shelter within the compass of the guard" s whip and sword? The guard, however, made no motion. The girl, standing beside him, seemed very frightened. "Will I never see the last of you?" she had exclaimed, angrily, when I had fist been thrust into the pen, then still wearing the chaining in which I had been brought to the camp. I had avoided her as much as possible. Now, however, I could not well do so. We were assigned to the same crew. I think she did not care for the idea any more than I. She was frightened. I think her fear, thought, was not primarily for me. Perhaps she most feared what might be the action of one of the men below, an action for which he might well be punished, or even killed. Whereas I had begged not to be assigned to this group, she had, weeks ago. I had learned, begged to serve with it. To be sure she had no more to fear from it than would any other girl. I, on the other hand, had a very great deal to fear from it. The guards had acceded to her pleas. She apparently worked very hard to keep her position with this chain, carrying water, sometimes double bags, frequently and uncomplainingly, and, in the evening, zealously, and desperately, and with subtle and delicious skills, well pleasing the guards. It was whispered about in the pens, seeing the frequency with which she was summoned forth, that she had not always been a common work slave. It was speculated that she had once been a pleasure slave, that she had once been in a tavern, and had even, once, been first girl.

I was now within a few feet of the first man. I remembered him from Argentum. He had been a metal worker and I had lied, pretending to be of his own caste. He whom I most feared, however, was at the end of the chain. I considered the tools in the grip of these men. One of those shovels could with a single blow cut my head from my body. I knew I could be killed quickly, very quickly. I looked from face to face. I realized then that these men would probably not wish to kill me quickly, not at all. If they wished to kill me, they would presumably prefer to do so slowly. I did not want to serve this crew. For days I had been left free of it. Then, last night, a girl had been transferred very sudden. I suspected that the girl had been transferred from it in order to make a place for me on it. I did not know, however, why, only now, this had taken place.

"Water, Master?" I asked.

These men were chained together only by an ankle. Their hands were free. They had implements.

"Yes," he said.

I knelt down in the sand, before him, my head down. I removed the metal cup on its string from about my neck. My neck was exposed to him. I attended to the filling of the cup, and capped the spout of the bag. I feared I would be struck with the shove, it cutting down at me. He did not raise it, however, I kissed the cup and, holding it with both hands, my arms extended toward him, my head down between them, proffered it to him. He took it, and drank, and handed the cup back to me. "Thank you, Master," I whispered. I was alive!