Dancer of Gor

"I love to belly dance," I said, reddening. But then I looked at him, gratefully. I was a belly dancer! I was! And I did love to belly dance! How free I suddenly felt, and happy, that I had now said these things, that I had confessed them to myself, honestly, openly, in my native language.

"Perhaps, sometime," he said. "I will permit you to dance for me." "A slave would be pleased," I said, "if she might so please her master." "How naturally you speak of yourself as a slave," he said, "I am a slave, Master," I said.

"Yes," he said. "You are. I knew that the first moment I had my eyes on you." I looked down, shyly. I remembered the first moment I had seen him, looking up from the desk, seeing him there, before me, I in the dark sweater and the long-sleeved blouse, he in the dark suit, with a tie, such things seemingly so ungainly on him. He had looked at me in a Gorean fashion. I had felt I might have been stripped naked before him. if I had known then what I knew now I would have felt slave naked before him, as though I had just been stripped for slave assessment, that masters might decide what I might realistically be expected to bring them on the block. It was shortly after this experience that I had fearfully enrolled myself in a class in belly dancing. Somehow, probably in the depths of my subconscious, I wanted to do almost anything I could, to learn how to please such a man, and surely dancing beautifully before him, vital and half-clad, might contribute to such an end.

When I looked up he was still looking down at me. He was looking at me, musingly, studying me.

I was silent. I had not been spoken to.

He tossed the mask he had worn to the side, among his things. He then crouched down before me.

"Master," I whispered, begging, pulling against the ropes.

He removed the cloth belt and slave strip from me and tossed them, too, to the side, among his things. He owned them, even such small things, not I.

He then moved back a little, and looked at me.

"You have become very beautiful," he said.

"Thank you, Master," I said.

"Apparently the Gorean diet, the movements of slave dance, the attentions of masters, and such, have much improved you," he said."It is my hope that I have been improved," I said.

"Your ears have been pierced," he said.

"As befits me, Master," I said.

He smiled.

I saw that he was pleased that my ears had been pierced. I rejoiced in his pleasure.

"Greetings, Miss Williamson," he said.

"I am no longer Miss Williamson," I said, frightened, shrinking back, "unless master wishes to put such a name on me."

"Your response is acceptable," he said. "What is your name?"

"Whatever master pleases," I said.

"What have you most recently been called?" he asked.

"Tuka," I said. He knew that, of course. He wanted to hear the slave name from my own lips.

"That will do," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said. In a sense, then, I had the same name, "Tuka," but, in another sense, it was a new name, put on me afresh. I now wore it not by the will of another, but by his own will. Once I had been Miss Doreen Williamson. Now, again, by a man" s decision, I, an animal, was simply, "Tuka." It was an exciting name. It made me flame between my thighs. I squirmed a little. "Do you know what this is," he asked. He had picked up the slave whip. "A slave whip," I said.

He held it before me and I eagerly licked and kissed it.

"You do that well, slave," he said.

"Thank you, Master," I said.

"Can you speak Gorean?" he asked.

"A little, Master," I said. He knew, of course, I could speak at least a little Gorean. For example, he had heard me speak with Mirus and Tupita. "Master would know more of such matters," I said, "had he, when I requested it upon occasion, given me permission to speak."

He toyed with the whip. I hoped I had not been too bold.

"A girl can understand simple commands," I whispered.

"Perhaps, by now, she should be better than that," he said.

"I can speak Gorean," I said, "at least well, I think, for my time here. I have had to learn it rapidly and efficiently. It is the language of my masters." He nodded. Slave girls from Earth learn Gorean quickly. We are encouraged, of course, by the switch and whip. They are useful pedagogical devices.

"May I speak?" I asked. It seemed strange to request permission to speak, in English. Yet it was fully proper, for I was a slave. That was what was important, that I was a slave, not the language in which I spoke.

"Yes," he said.

"Is it to your whip that I am subject?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

"I am yours?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "I put sword claim upon you. Let he who will dispute it with me."

I twisted in the bonds. I was his, then, girl loot, kajira spoils, as much as a tharlarion or a crate of jewels, by the right of the sword.

"Did you search for me?" I asked.

"Yes," he said, "for months, from Market of Semris, to Brundisium, to Samnium, to Argentum, to Venna."