Dancer of Gor

Afterwards when the five ostraka had been drawn something of my fears had returned. I had even begged two of the fellows not to take me far from the fires, but, dragged by the hair, bent over, I had followed them. Then I had served them in the darkness, between tents. Once, my hands over my head, I had felt the tent ropes. Once, when I had bent over one fellow, I had lifted my head, in terror, thinking I might have heard a sound, but, it seems, I had not. I had then again addressed myself to my labors. After I had served five men I had been conducted to the tent of Pietro Vacchi. He, among the others, had watched me dance. Indeed, I had danced my beauty particularly to him, more than once, as he was the captain of these men, and his ruggedness and strength, his entire demeanor, that of a master, stirred my belly. I could not flee from him. But in a moment I would not have wanted to. He was a true master, and, in moments, licking and kissing, squirming, moaning, crying out with gratitude, I was helpless in his grasp. When he had left me I had lain on the rug, looking after him in disbelief. What a slave such men made us! I had lain on my back, the chain on my neck, my fingernails scratching at the rug. When I had seen him standing near me again I had gone to my belly and pressed my lips fervently to his feet. "Master!" I had wept. He then took me by the upper arms and, with a sound of chain, lifted me, and flung me back, again to the rug. "Oh yes, Master!" I had cried out, again, in gratitude.

One of the girls near me stirred in her sleep. "Let me serve you, let me serve you," she was moaning, in her dreams.

I, however, for one, was now pleased to be behind the bars of the pen. Something of my original terror had returned when Pietro Vacchi had led me to the exit of his tent and pointed the way, through the darkness, to the pen. I had bellied, and begged, for a guard. "Do you wish another whipping?" he had inquired. "No, Master!" I said. He had, it seems, taken note of my beating on the Vitkel Aria. Too, I was sure the marks on me attested to it. I rose to my feet, to creep, frightened, in the direction he had indicated. "Wait," he said, as an afterthought. "Wait." I was only too willing to dally. "You have heard of the other girl?" he asked. "Master?" I asked. "Guard," he called, "escort this young lady to her quarters." "Yes, Captain," he said. Pietro Vacchi then returned to his tent. The guard was behind me. "Lesha!" he said. Immediately, responsive to this command, I flung my wrists behind me, separated by some two inches, and lifted my chin, my head turned to the left. I felt slave bracelets flung, snapping shut, on my wrists. I was braceleted. In another moment I was leashed. "Precede me," said the guard. I went before him. In a moment we were among the trees, on a path. "Oh!" I said, softly. The guard had begun to caress me. In another moment or two he stopped me with the leash, in the darkness. "May I speak, Master?" I asked. "No," he said. He was through with me quickly. Then I was dragged to my feet and conducted, again, toward the pens. I though I saw a movement in the darkness, but I was not certain. "What is it?" asked the guard, uneasily. "Nothing, Master," I said. If I had truly detected something, as perhaps I had between the tents, the tiny sound, or now, perhaps, a movement in the darkness, subtle, almost unnoticeable, I had little doubt as to what might be its source. But he had not, in either case, struck in the darkness. He had had no interest, it seemed, in killing the soldier, or the guard. It was not him he wanted. He would continue, it seemed, to bide his time. in a few moments, however, happily, I was released into the pen. "Blankets are at the side," he said. "You may take only one." Yes, Master," I said. "May I speak?" "No," he said.