Dancer of Gor

Sometimes, I had heard, before nights such as this, a girl is kept in close chains, sitting or lying, scarcely able to move. Too, sometimes, for days before a night like this she wears the sirik. I had very seldom been in sirik, though I had worn one in my training once or twice, so that I might be instructed in the strict limitations it would impose on me, and how I might, nonetheless, move in it, if it were set to suitable widths, in a way pleasing to masters. The full sirik consists of a collar an three chains. One of these chains, a long, vertical chain, attached to the collar, dangles downward. To it are fastened two horizontal chains, one, from its attachment point near the lower belly, terminating in slave bracelets, wrist-rings, or manacles, and the other, from its attachment point at the end of the dangling chain, usually lying on the floor, or ground, terminating in shackles or ankle-rings. Parts of this arrangement may function separately, of course, for example, the long chain as a leash, the horizontal attachments as, say, slave bracelets or ankle shackles. Too, in many siriks, the chain widths are adjustable. In that way the latitudes of movement accorded to the slave may be enlarged or reduced, as the master pleases. They are, as many other things in the slave" s life, under his exact governance. In the harshest adjustments, she may move with considerable grace and beauty; indeed, in some siriks, it is possible for her to dance. In the sirik adjustments often prescribed for a girl before a night like this she can scarcely walk, the vertical chain" s lower attachment point being drawn up between her ankles, which are then, separated by as little as three or four inches, and her wrists, too, before her body, are even more closely confined. My master, however, had not seen fit to exercise such precautions in my case. He knew, and I knew, they were unnecessary. I leaned back more against the wall, my eyes closed. I clutched the sheet more closely about me. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to go. I was branded and collared. I would be naked or scantily clad. There was no one to rescue me, or free me. I would be bond, and a property, to any who might come upon me, like a dog or horse. The entire legal resources of this world would be marshaled toward returning me to my master. Too, I thought, shuddering, as if such things were not enough, my body, and its odors, with my name, such that it might be included with appropriate triggering signals, had been imprinted on the dark, eager brain of a massive hunting sleen. No, I would not run away. When my master came for me, to take me by the arms and lead me to the floor, I would be here, in the only way I could be here, waiting, and docile.

I listened again to the murmur of the men outside, the small sounds of their goblets and plates.

I considered again the sleen. "I think you will like Borko," had said my master, before I had seen the beast, when I had only heard him in the tunnel, and then entering the room. I recalled the huge head, the two rows of fangs, the dark tongue, the widely set eyes, the thrusting, prowling snout, the claws. It had been trained, I had learned, to hunt men, and slaves. Obediently it had withdrawn to its kennel at the word of my master. But just as swiftly, I was sure, it could be summoned forth again, and set about its master" s bidding, implacably, unquestioningly, innocently, mercilessly, eagerly. I shuddered. That beast, I thought, if nothing else, would serve to keep good order among the women of Hendow, a taverner on Dock Street, in Brundisium. I smiled to myself. Sometimes women, either free or slave, are called she-sleen." I had not known, until a few days ago, what a sleen was. I now knew. I might be a "she-urt," or a she-tarsk," I thought, but I certainly was not a "she-sleen," even figuratively. To be sure, at that time, I did not know about the miniature, silken sleen that are sometimes kept as sinuous pets. Perhaps it is that sort of she-sleen, which, if not properly controlled, tends to be sly, nasty and dangerous, that men have in mind when they sometimes apply that expression to a woman. I do not know. To be sure, as the men say, it seems that even the woman who is a «she-sleen» needs only a strong master, one who brings her swiftly to her knees and teaches her that she is a female. The husk of the she-sleen, as it is said, can be torn away, never to grow again, leaving behind only the soft flesh of another slave.

I opened my eyes. I heard bells outside the threshold, from the floor.