Dancer of Gor

I twisted helplessly in the love chains. I jerked helplessly again them, the rings cutting into my ankles, pulling against my wrists. There are many varieties of such chains. These were simple and had been earlier taken from the wagoner" s bench, part of the loot which my master had divided between himself and Mirus. Each consisted of a wrist ring and an ankle ring, joined by about ten inches of chain. My left wrist had been attached to my left ankle, my right wrist to my right ankle. I was on my back. A chain was also on my neck. It fastened me to a nearby tree, a yard or so from our blankets.

"You danced well, earlier," he said.

"Master!" I gasped. "Master!"

His tongue was incredible, so gentle, so subtle and yet so persuasive, so forceful, so irresistible.

"You are a hot slave," he commented.

"Hot! I was flaming, and helpless!

He drew back a bit, amused.

Quickly I lifted myself piteously, suppliantly to him.

"Is this how the woman of Earth behave?" he asked.

"I am no longer of Earth," I said. "I am of Gor, and a slave! Be merciful, I beg it, to a helplessly aroused slave!"

He chuckled, the beast, at my discomfiture, and helplessness, and need! "Please, please!" I begged.

"You are far from Earth now, and your library, slave," he said.

"Yes, Master! Yes, Master!" I said. "Please, please, Master!" I lifted myself to him in mute petition.

How he relished the power he held over me!

"Oh, yes!" I cried, as his tongue, again touched me. It had been a tiny, subtle touch, and yet, as he doubtless knew, from my distraught condition, it had brought me to the point where my response was totally within his power and I must beg.

"Please, Master," I whimpered.

"Do you beg?" he asked.

"Yes, Master!" I said.

"Who begs?" he asked.

"Tuka, the slave of Teibar of Ar, begs!" I moaned.

Again his tongue touched me and I threw back my head and screamed with joy, jerking against the chains. "Oh!" I cried. "Oh!" I shuddered, and thrashed and gasped. Then I lay quiet in his chains, looking up at him in wonder, in gratitude. I was his. My entire body was rich in the memory of what he had done to me, in one sense what he had made me beg for, in another sense what he had forced me to endure.

"I am yours," I said.

"That is known to me," he said. He then touched me again, this time gently, with his hand.

Again I looked up at him, helplessly.

"You are mine to caress," he said.

"Yes, my master," I whispered. Then he made me cry out, softly, and then turned me to my belly on the blankets, and lifted me to him. Then he permitted me to lie on my side, and I tried to kiss at his body.

"You are a grateful slave," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said.

"And a passionate slave," he said.

"Yes, Master!" I said.

"Where are the severe garments of the librarian?" he asked. He referred doubtless to the long-sleeved blouse, the dark sweater, the severe skirt, the low-heeled shoes, such things.

"I do not know, Master," I said.

"And where, too, now, is that librarian?" he asked.

"She who was that librarian," I said, "is here, but she is now only a naked slave, and she begs to kiss her master."

"She may do so," he informed me.

In a time, then, again, he aroused, he seized me and rose to his knees, and held me, he kneeling, I kneeling, and then he thrust me back, and my head was down, and he lifted me up, to him, he kneeling, and he then again, I so helpless, hanging back and down, put me impersonally to his pleasure.

"I did well to pick you out on Earth," he cried.

"Yes, Master!" I wept, loving and ravished, helpless and yielding, a slave, in his hands.

He them put me gently to my back and I looked up at him, in awe and love. "You are a treasure," he said.

"A treasure," I laughed, "that may be purchased for something in the neighborhood of five silver tarsks!"

"Not from me," he said. "I would not sell you for a thousand."

"Mirus thought that Tupita was a thousand times more beautiful than I," I said. "He was wrong," said my master.

"Thank you, Master," I said, pleased.

"She is no more than nine hundred times more beautiful that you," he said. "Master!" I said.

"To me," he said, "you are a thousand, thousand times more beautiful than she." "Thank you, Master!" I purred.

"Kneel," he said.

I struggled to my knees.

"Do you know what time it is?" he asked.

"Late," I said.

"Are you chained?" he asked.

"Of course, Master," I said. I wore his love chains, and the chain on my neck fastening me to the nearby tree.

"Whose chains are they?" he asked.

"Yours, of course, Master," I said.

"It is past midnight," he said.

"Ah!" I said. When the recovery period pertinent to the collar of Ionicus had expired, I had been in the power of Teibar of Ar. Indeed, I had been literally wearing his chains. The legalities of simple slave claim, based on active proprietorship, had not superseded, with respect to that collar, the rights contestable by the sword under which I had hitherto been held, those of sword claim.

"Perhaps I will put love chains on you again," he said. "You serve well in them."