Mariners of Gor

Given their plainness, and grossness, they had something of the hatred of the free woman for the exquisitely feminine, muchly desired female slave, smaller and weaker, but so much their superior.

But once the slaves were chained, they had little to fear. When, later, they had been freed, by one officer or another, things would doubtless be much the same in the keeping area.

But perhaps not.

The men might come again.

The voyage might well be near its end, and, if that were the case, who knew what might ensue?

“Where are the hooded slaves?” asked Alcinoe.

It was quite unlikely they would be hooded now, in the area.

“They will be here, somewhere,” I said.

“We may have seen them,” said Alcinoe, “and, if so, they are not so extraordinary.”

“You sound like a Kasra girl,” I said, “a jealous one.”

“Master!” she protested.

“There must be another area,” I said.

Surely, somewhere, hoods would be stored.

I went toward the back of the keeping area. “There is a door here,” I said. It was not a holding door, but a light door, more for privacy, I supposed, than anything else. I slid back the bolt, and swung the door open. It was dark inside.

“Master,” I heard, from within, a woman’s voice. They could see it was a man, as the light was behind me. “What is going on?” asked the voice.

“Curiosity,” I told her, “is not becoming in a kajira.”

“Yes, Master,” said the voice, frightened.

“It is so dark,” said Alcinoe.

“I will fetch a lamp,” I said.

“You are curious, are you not?” she asked.

“Certainly,” I said. “Are you not, as well?”

“Yes,” she said. “I would look upon these allegedly fabulous creatures.”

I unhooked one of the small lamps from the ceiling of the larger, general portion of the Venna keeping area, and, lifting it a little, entered the smaller area, followed by Alcinoe.

Lifting the lamp more we discerned some twenty women in the special area. Each was at her mat, and secured there by her chain. When the general liberty, recently, had been accorded the slaves, the freedom of the deck, these women had remained below, it seemed, in the darkness of their area, secured.

“Look, Master,” said Alcinoe, pointing to a wall, to our left.

“Yes,” I said.

There, suspended by their neck buckles, placed over hooks, were several slave hoods, each with a small padlock and key, the padlock about the buckle, the key on a string, dangling from the lock. Also, nearby, on another hook, a larger hook, were several loops of rope, by means of which the slaves, when brought to the upper deck, were belly coffled.

The slaves, who were naked, as one commonly keeps slaves at their mats, were huddled, crouched down, bent over, covering themselves, as they could.

“Master is not authorized,” said one of the slaves. “Master must depart. We may not be looked upon.”

“Do you wish to be lashed?” I inquired.

“No, Master,” said the slave, hastily.

Though one of the slaves of the sheltered area, she was apparently familiar with the lash.

I looked about, as I could, in the light of the lamp. Some of the slaves had covered themselves completely with their small blankets; others gathered the blanket about their head and shoulders, and kept their heads down. Several, bent over, had brought their hair about their face, as a veil. Some, for whatever reason, perhaps discipline, had no blanket at hand. Their heads were down. Their small hands covered what they could of their beauty. Their knees were pressed firmly together.

Outside, in the larger area, I heard one or more men, perhaps apprehensive now, urging the others to make their departure.

I sensed some were leaving.

“I do not suppose they are so beautiful,” said Alcinoe.

“It is hard to tell, as they are,” I said.

“Should Master not consider departing?” said a slave.

“We are not to be looked upon,” said another.

“And why,” I asked, “are you not to be looked upon?”

“Because, Master,” said a slave, huddled in a blanket, “we are of such extraordinary beauty.”

“It seems,” I said, “that that would be a reason why you should be looked upon, as Masters find it pleasant to look upon beautiful slaves.”

“Please, Master,” said one of the slaves, bent over, her hair held about her face.

“Is it true that you are all so beautiful?” I asked.

“Certainly, Master,” said one of the slaves.

“We shall see,” I said.

“Master?” said a slave.

“Position!” I said.

“Master!” protested several.

“Need a command be repeated?” I asked.

With cries of misery, and sobs, the slaves, or most, went to position.

“Hold the lamp,” I said to Alcinoe.

She took the lamp.

“Please, no,” wept slave after slave.

I drew away blankets, which had not fallen about the slaves.

“Backs straight,” I said. “Lift your heads. Peer straight ahead. Shake the hair behind your shoulders.”

I looked about, from one slave to another.

It was pleasant to do so.

“Shoulders back,” I said. “Suck in your belly. Palms of your hands down on your thighs, firmly. Feel them there.”

“Please, Master,” sobbed a girl. “We are high slaves!”

“Many of us were once of high caste!” said another.

“Split your knees,” I said.

“Master!” wept a girl.

“Wider,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” they wept.

“Better,” I said, “better.”

Yes, it was pleasant to look upon them.

I thought them quite nice.

Alcinoe followed me about with the lamp.

“What do you think, Alcinoe?” I asked.

“Average,” said Alcinoe. “I see little that is extraordinary here.”

Some of the girls gasped in indignation.

“There is some gold here,” I said.

“Yes, Master!” said more than one of the slaves.

“Not much,” said Alcinoe.

“Many are beautiful,” I said. “But that is common with women whom men find worth putting on a chain.”

“Beautiful enough, I suppose,” said Alcinoe, with a toss of her hair which might have caused bids to surge. How right, I thought, how perfect, that women such as she were put in collars.

“It is true,” I said, “that I see little justification for hooding.”