Dancer of Gor

"In the first house of my slavery," I said, "I was given a series of injections. I am curious about them. Were they inoculations against diseases?"

"I know those you mean," he said. "No, they were the stabilization serums. We give them even to slaves."

"What are they?" I asked.

"You do not know?" he asked.

"No," I said.

"They are a discovery of the caste of physicians," he said. "They work their effects on the body."

"What is their purpose?" I asked.

"Is there anything in particular which strikes you generally, statically, about the population of Gor?" he asked.

"Their vitality, their health, their youth," I said.

"Those are consequences of the stabilization serums," he said.

"I do not understand," I said.

"You will retain your youth and beauty, curvaceous slave," he said. "That is the will of masters."

"I do not understand," I said, frightened.

"Ageing," he said, "is a physical process, like any other. It is, accordingly, accessible to physical influences. To be sure, it is a subtle and complex process. It took a thousand years to develop the stabilization serums. Our physicians regarded ageing as a disease, the drying, withering disease, and so attacked it as a disease. They did not regard it as, say, a curse, or a punishment, or something inalterable or inexplicable, say, as some sort of problem, susceptible to physical approaches. Some five hundred years ago, they developed the first stabilization serums."

"How could I ever pay for such a thing!" I gasped.

"There is no question of payment," he said. "They are given to you as an animal, a slave."

"Master," I whispered, awed.

"Do not fret," he said. "In the case of a woman from Earth, like yourself, they are not free."

"Master?" I asked.

He took my collar in both hands, and moved it in such a way that I could feel how sturdily, and obdurately, it was locked on my neck. "For a woman such as you," he said, "their price is the collar."

"Yes, Master," I said. The serums, in that sense, did indeed have their price. We paid for them with the collar. It was with a strange feeling that I realized that even if I did not wish it so, even if I vehemently desired otherwise, my youth and beauty would continue to remain fresh and lovely for Gorean masters. Not even for it was there an escape! It, too, was "collared."

I shuddered, considering the effects of the stabilization serums.

"What is wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing, Master," I said. I scarcely dared to cope with even the thought of the serums. I had not understood their effects. Perhaps my master was mistaken! I must think of other things!

"Master," I said.

"Yes," he said.

"You seemed to be familiar with the beasts," I said. "Were you once associated with them?"

"Yes," he said.

"Are you associated with them any longer?" I asked.

"No," he said.

"Are the beasts," I asked, "involved in the slaving?"

"In a way, yes," he said. "They provide, for the most part, the means for conducting the trade.""The trade?" I asked.

"The slave trade," he said.

"Of course, Master," I said.

"Do not grow arrogant at the thought of the stabilization serums," he said. "Arrogant?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "Keep clearly in mind that regardless of their value or benefits from your point of view, they have other consequences as well. For example, you will continue to be of interest to masters, you will continue to excite them, you will continue to be the sort of woman they want for their collars and chains. As you remain as you are, so soft, so lovely, so attractive and desirable, you must expect to continue to face the risks and perils attendant on your beauty, on a world such as this, where it is a common mode of currency, a familiar means of exchange, where it may be used to bribe traitors, and be given to heroes as a reward, where it is a prize for courage and audacity, where it may count as tribute to conquerors, where it can be used to bargain for cities and states, and where it is bought and sold in markets."

"Yes, Master," I whispered. Perhaps I was a terrible person, but I did not mind the thought of being exciting and beautiful. Perhaps it was fitting then that I be punished with bondage.

"You are a beautiful slave," he said.

"Thank you, Master," I said.

I wondered if my master was weak. Some men are very strong with men, and yet weak with their women. He had just said I was beautiful. That was surely a compliment. Surely it indicated some interest in me, or approval of me, surely in at least one respect. He had said I was beautiful. Could I not then, though it was I who was in a collar, make use of his feelings to own him? Too, he had followed me for months, over thousands of pasangs. He must like me then, at least a little. That seemed likely. Indeed, he must care for me. I suspected that perhaps he even loved me. Perhaps I could make use of that. I wondered if he was weak. It would not hurt to test him. I knew that some girls twisted their masters about their little fingers. I wondered if I could do that. "Master," I said.

"Yes," he said.