Swordsmen of Gor

Thus, technically, in that time she should have been exhibiting deference to the free, addressing free men as “Master,” free women as “Mistress,” and so on. She could not be blamed for this lapse, of course, as she was at that time unaware she was a slave.

I supposed that Mr. Gregory White, now by choice Pertinax, who long ago in the offices, aisles, and corridors of the investment firm might have furtively, yearningly, stolen glimpses of she whom he had taken at the time to be the ambitious, sophisticated, insolent, out-of-reach Miss Margaret Wentworth, so far above him, might have viewed her differently, rather differently, had he realized at the time that she was in actuality no more than a female slave.

And so a slave, how that had been concealed!

And so she, in all her smugness, pretensions, pettiness, and vanity, had gone about, from day to day, conducting herself as usual, taking her cabs, dining in her restaurants, cultivating her potential clients, and such, thinking herself a free woman, not knowing herself only a slave, that she should be fittingly on her knees, head to the floor, before them. Did she not know the slave rope, invisible, was already upon her? It required only that it, at the convenience of masters, be tightened. Had White known this, might he not have conjectured seizing her from behind, holding her helplessly before him, and whispering in her startled ear, “Slave.”

And so her slavery had been concealed, even from herself.

How many women, I wondered, even aside from acquisition lists, and such, are slaves, and do not know they are slaves.

Or do they know themselves slaves, lacking only a master?

How, I thought, might a civilization distort and pervert truth! How it can veil nature and conceal reality! How it can demean one thing and bedeck another, how it can in so many ways flee the serious, mighty, and worthy, and embrace the insignificant, the pathetic, the absurd, and ignoble.

How it can lie, say, about men, and about women.

They are not the same.

She had, as far as I knew, encountered no free women since coming to the northern forests. Few free women frequent the forest. The forest is dangerous, and the men in the vicinity, hungering for slaves, would soon have them in collars.

“Let her do so,” I said to Pertinax. “She must.”

He looked at her, irritably. She was small before him, slight, lovely, desirable, and, deliciously obvious, as she was in nadu, a female.

“Very well,” said Pertinax, angrily. But he then addressed himself to the slave, angrily. “But do not so address me,” he said.

Saru nearly lost position.

Clearly she was uncertain, confused, frightened.

“She must,” I said. “You are a free man. She would be terrified not to do so.”

“She is a slave,” said Tajima. “Understand that. Be kind.”

“Slave,” I said. “Look up, now, meet the eyes of Master Pertinax, good, and now address him as ‘Master’.”

Her eyes met those of Pertinax. “Master,” she said.

I thought that would be a moment that neither of them would forget.

Pertinax turned away, abruptly, angrily. “Very well,” he said.

The former Miss Wentworth, toward whom he entertained such mixed and ambivalent feelings, and intense feelings, kneeling before him in nadu, knees split, back straight, had lifted her head to his, and, tears in her eyes, with trembling lip, as the slave she was, addressed him, appropriately, as “Master.”

I sensed this was one of the most thrilling, disturbing moments in his life, and I sensed that it was one of the most meaningful, and thrilling, moments in her life.

What man does not wish to be addressed as “Master” by a beautiful slave, and particularly by one he wishes he owned, one for whom he languishes? And what woman, kneeling before a man whose slave she wishes to be, does not long to call him “Master”?

I saw he was unwilling to see her as what she was now, a slave.

“Break position,” he said.

She went to all fours, looking up at him.

“Why did you have her break position?” I asked, innocently.

“She makes me uneasy, like that,” he said.

“I understand,” I said. In nadu, as the back is straight, the shoulders are back, and this accentuates the delights of the bosom. The widening of the knees suggests the vulnerability of the slave and displays the softness of the open, exposed thighs. The placement of the palms down on the thighs, apart and down, to the sides, suggests that they will be held as they are, and thus are not permitted to fend or thwart a caress. The kneeling position itself is symbolic of submission. The head’s being up displays the beauty of the master’s property, the beauty of the features, the slenderness of the neck, and such, and, too, of course, in this attitude, the badge of his ownership, her collar, is well exhibited. To be sure, this can differ from master to master. Some prefer the slave’s head to be submissively lowered. The slave’s eyes may or may not be permitted to meet the master’s eyes without permission. This differs from master to master.

It will doubtless be recalled that Saru’s head had been shaved before she was consigned to the grooms in the stable, to assume the duties of a stable slut. That had been several weeks ago and there was now a blondish scrub of hair on her head. I hoped her master, Lord Nishida, would now permit her hair to grow. To be sure, the decision was his.

“Would you like to have a tunic, Saru,” I asked, “or perhaps a camisk, or a ta- teera?”

“Oh, yes, Master,” she said. “Yes, yes, yes!”

“I think it may be permitted,” I said.

“I hope so, Master!” she said.

It is interesting, I thought. Though a slave, technically, is not permitted modesty, few slaves are not eager for the merest shred of clothing, at least in public. In private, they may be limited to their collars. Clothing, of course, is at the discretion of the master. Sometimes a slave must perform well, even to be granted a string and slave strip. Many slaves, for example, in the morning, must have the master’s permission before dressing. “Master, may I clothe myself?” Such things help the girl keep in mind that she is a slave. To be sure, few slaves are likely to forget that. Occasionally they may be whipped to remind them, and they may even, themselves, sometimes request the whip, that they be reassured of their master’s attention, and the reality of their bondage.

As there were no free women in the camp, captured from the enemy, and such, I supposed the slaves would be permitted clothing, such as it might be, while serving the feast.

Lord Nishida, I surmised, had been amusing himself at the expense of Pertinax, when he had suggested that Saru might serve nude. There seemed little point now in denying her garmenture, as she had, by now, presumably, been properly instructed as to the nonacceptability of her former attitudes and behaviors, now that she had learned the lessons of the stable, now that she had begun to understand what it was to have a collar on her neck. Her kajira journey had been well begun. If he did have her serve nude, I conjectured it would be merely in order, for his amusement or his information, to observe Pertinax. Would Pertinax avoid looking upon her? Would he look upon her, and, if so, how, obliquely or openly, and, if openly, with disapproval or with, say, the unfeigned interest and delight of a Gorean master? Masters think nothing of nudity in slaves. They are familiar with it. For example, that is how women are sold. They may, however, revel in it, as in admiration of the lines of any fine animal, and, of course, they are likely, given the commonality of species and their maleness, to find it potently arousing, and sometimes irresistibly so. In any event, the matter was up to Lord Nishida. I expected him to have Saru serve clothed. She might, of course, at as little as an expression or gesture, have to reveal her beauty.

“You would like some clothing?” I asked.

“Yes, Master, yes!” she said, fervently.

I smiled to myself.

Usually the clothing permitted to slaves was such as was fit for slaves. Usually there was not much to it, and it was designed to leave few of the slave’s charms to conjecture. The slave did not realize, it seemed, that in many slave garments the slave might seem more naked, given its judicious suggestions and such, than if she were