pleasure slave.
I supposed, of course, as earlier suggested, that they were selected with care, that they were culled from the most delectable of slave stock. Not every girl from the barbarian lands, I supposed, would be worthy of being fitted with a slave collar in the pens of Gor; not every girl from the barbarian lands would be deemed fit to grace a Gorean slave block.
I wondered if, standing naked on the block, exhibited to buyers, hearing the bids on them, they realized their specialness.
“The pleasure slave,” I said, “is the fullest and most helpless of slaves. As a pleasure slave you will be the meaningless possession, the toy, the plaything, the convenience, of your master. Your life will be one of obedience and passion. There is a wholeness of life in this. Even the simplest of servile tasks will carry an aura of sensuality about them, as they are performed for the master, by she who is his pleasure slave. She will live in radiance, within an erotic ambiance, and in anticipation of the caress of her master. You will experience a sexuality a thousand times beyond the comprehension of a free woman. You will belong to your master with a servitude and intimacy beyond that of other slaves. You will be a helpless animal with which he may amuse himself and on which he may slake his lusts. You will know his chains and ropes, his thongs and bracelets, his gags and blindfolds. You will be his, completely. You will be wholly helpless. You will be totally at his mercy.”
“I understand,” she said.
“Do you still think you might like to be a pleasure slave?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said.
I had little doubt that the slave before me, on her knees, would be offered from any block, in any city, town, or village, as a pleasure slave.
It was difficult to conceive of her as anything else.
“But surely,” she said, “much depends on the master.”
“Nothing depends on the master,” I said.
“Master?” she said.
“The slave,” I said, “is to strive to please any master, to the best of her ability.”
“But perhaps,” she smiled, “a girl might hope that some master would have her in mind now.”
“You may hope that,” I said.
“I think,” she said, “that some master may have me in mind now.”
“Not to my knowledge,” I said.
“No?” she said, startled.
“No,” I said.
“But then,” she cried out in dismay, almost daring to rise from her knees, “I might go to anyone!”
“Yes,” I said, and then turned about, and left her.
This conversation took place on the last day of the fifth passage hand.
On the next day, the first day of the sixth month, the cry, “Land, ho!” was called from the foremast, by Leros.
Chapter Twenty-One
I stood at the rail, with many others.
Off the port bow one could see islands, far off, a part of what we would later learn was an extended archipelago, which extended for better than two thousand pasangs, only a relatively small portion of which was inhabited.
That we continued north, along these coasts, much displeased the men. Pani had interposed themselves between the great water casks and angry men with clubs and poles who wished to shatter the casks, that one must put ashore for fresh water.
I think there were few on board who did not voice their disgruntlement, if only privately, in their quarters, or about their work, when with agreeable confreres. Not since the mutiny had there been such seething ugliness beneath the veil of duty and discipline. When officers drew near, men grew silent.
Some of the minor officers had ordered floggings.
This seemed to me unwise.
“Please, noble lord,” said Tyrtaios to Lord Nishida, nearby, “anchor, put forth the galleys. We have been long at sea. Meat and flour are short. There are many armsmen amongst us. They are not mariners, they are soldiers. They want to feel ground beneath their feet. Replenish the great casks with fresher water. Perhaps there is fruit on land. Perhaps there are forests. Might there not be hunting within them?”
“Such remarks,” said Lord Nishida, “are best borne in private.”
Tyrtaios was a clever man. I thought it no accident that he had addressed Lord Nishida within the hearing of others.
“Please ponder their worth, noble lord,” said Tyrtaios.
“I have not seen the signal,” said Lord Nishida. “It may not be safe to seek the shore. We are still days from the holding of Lord Temmu.”
“It is well,” said Tyrtaios, “that weapons were taken in. Else I would fear war.”
Men glanced at one another.
“Not all weapons were recovered,” said Lord Nishida.
“What shall we do?” inquired Tyrtaios.
“We shall await the signal,” said Lord Nishida.
“May I implore Lord Okimoto,” inquired Tyrtaios, “that he, as senior, may rule otherwise?”
“Certainly,” said Lord Nishida.
Whereas Tyrtaios, as of the dismissal of Seremides, was no longer of the retinue of Lord Nishida, but of that of Lord Okimoto, at the latter’s request, and was well aware that Lord Okimoto was of subtly higher station than Lord Nishida, he was also well aware, as were most of us, that Lord Okimoto, from the lofty pedestal of his seniority, commonly refrained from involving himself in the day-to-day activities and management of the great ship.
Tyrtaios then excused himself, and withdrew.
I glanced to the side.
The slave, Alcinoe, edged more closely to me. It was as though she did not know I was there. Her small hands were on the high rail, at her shoulders. She was looking forward. How lovely were her hands. Her long dark hair was back about her head, moved by the breeze. She wore a light, white, sleeveless tunic, slave short. She had exciting arms and legs. The metal collar encircled her neck. The rep-cloth of the tunic left few of her charms to the imagination. I was pleased that the brand had been put to her. Women such as she belonged to men. Let there be no mistake about it. Let them then be so imprinted, so designated. It was, appropriately, the common
