Dancer of Gor

I had no doubt of the menace and intent of he who had followed us back to the camp of Pietro Vacchi. He had been making his way, meaningfully, the blade in its sheath, toward Venna, and the black chain. It had been his intent, sooner or later, in one way or another, to renew his acquaintance with a certain slave, one who had once betrayed him. then he had recognized her on the road. He had then immediately changed his route. Did they really think he had not known his way to Brundisium, a native of Brundisium, and such a man? Did they really think he had returned to the camp only to make a fresh start in the morning? No, he had been following us for a purpose, and it had to do with a slave, one he was determined to bring within the reach of his hand, and blade. Had I had any doubt he had recognized me on the road, and that that had been responsible for his change of direction, that doubt had been dispelled in the camp. When I had knelt before a post, my hands behind me, chained back about the post, a helmet beside me, set in the sand, like a vessel, into which ostraka would be placed, men had come to look upon me. They had come to see if they thought it worth their while, in the spending of their evening, to wait about for a time, to see me dance, and then, perhaps, if they were pleased, to drop an ostrakan into the helmet. Among them came he whom I most feared. I strained forward, trying to kiss at his legs, but the chain on my wrists, pulling against the back of the post, held me back. I then realized that he had selected the place where he had stood with care. He had judged the distance with cruel exactness. It was such that I would try to reach him, desperately, to kiss him, to placate him. It was also such that I would be unable to do so. I had looked up into his eyes, and then, in terror, had put down my head. He had then left me, and another man had come to look upon me. I had danced that night between campfires, for the mercenaries. He had not chosen to watch. It seems, once again, that he would take suitable precautions, not be softened, that the iron of his intent be neither diminished nor imperiled, that there be no possible weakening of his terrible resolve.

I turned to my back, within the blanket. It was a very dark night. I could scarcely see the bars, it was so dark.

I think the mercenaries had found me pleasing. Surely they had responded well to the dance, and the helmet had been filled with ostraka. It had not started well, for I had been hampered by terror, but soon, as I recalled my earlier beating by Aulus, and knew I might be again whipped if I did not do well, and as I reassured myself that within the camp I would presumably be safe, and as I saw the men, and I knew they wished pleasure, and that it was within my power to give it to them, and abundantly, and must do so, to the best of my power. I began to lose my terror and then, at last, I think. I danced well. "Superb!" I heard cry. Far then I was from the shy, introverted girl of the library, she who had scarcely dared to admit, even to herself, even in the concealments of her most secret heart, that in her belly lurked the dispositions and nature of a pleasure slave! But now, openly, and whether she willed it or not, she was that very slave. "Superb!" cried another man. I danced, barefoot in the sand, naked, in my collar, my body illuminated redly in the light of the fires. I was joyful, a woman! How powerful, and grand, were the men! How I wanted to please them, and knew that I must. They did not fear, or object to, masculine power. They delighted in it, reveled in it. It ennobled and exalted them. It made them great! It made them glorious! And had they not been such men, how could I have been such a woman?

It was very dark out.