How would she look, how would she act, I wondered, if slave fires had been lit in her belly. I did not think she would then be distributing silken scarves to make known her needs to men. She must then do other things, such as putting a bondage knot in her hair, offering them wine or fruit, dancing naked before them, or kneeling before them, whimpering and whining for attention, licking and kissing at their feet and legs.
I saw again the woman in the collar, she who was stripped to the waist, she who had a brief bit of cloth tied about her hips. As our eyes met she looked away, quickly.
I took a step towards her and she turned hastily away, frightened, and began to make her way through the crowd. I followed her, indirectly, circling about. As I had expected, in a few moments she stopped and turned about, to see if I was following. She stood there, uncertainly, scanning the crowd, looking back the way she had come. Had she been pursued? she did not know. Then suddenly I stepped behind her and pulled her back against me. She could not move. She was as helpless, my hands upon her beauty, as one locked in one of the body cages of Tyros.
'Sir!' she said, frightened, stiffening.
'Sir?' I asked.
'Master!' she quickly said, correcting herself.
'You are a slave, aren't you?' I asked.
'Yes, of course!' she said.
'Of course, what?' I asked.
'Of course, Master!' she said.
'You have nice breasts,' I said.
'Thank you, Master,' she whispered.
I slid my hands down her body, to her waist, and hips, holding her all the while.
'You have a nice body,' I said. 'I think you would bring a good price on the slave block.'
'Do you think so?' she asked, pleased.
'Yes,' I said. 'But what is this cloth at your hips?' I asked. 'Its quality, incidentally, seems a bit too good to be accorded to a mere slave.' My hands, reaching about her, fumbled at the strings on her left hip.
'Do not remove it,' she begged, 'please! 'Please!'
My hands paused.
'As you are a mere slave,' I said, 'what possible difference could it make?'
'Please,' she begged.
'Very well,' I said. I removed my hands form the string, but held her in place, facing away from me, by the waist.
'May I turn around?' she asked.
'No,' I said.
She shuddered with pleasure, commanded, placed under the will of another.
'There are doubtless slavers in the piazza tonight,' I said. 'If you do not want the collar, you should not court it.'
'As I am only a mere slave,' she said, 'I could not possibly begin to understand the words of Master.'
She cried out as I, half spinning her about, tore the cloth from her hips.
'It seems your master forgot to brand you,' I said.
She snatched back the cloth and, angrily, tearing it and pulling it, refastened it about her hips.
'Take me to a pleasure rack,' she said.
'You are a free woman, ' I said. 'Go yourself.'
'Never, never!' she said. 'You know I cannot do that!'
'Master,' said a voice. 'I am a slave. Take me to a pleasure rack!'
I looked down. Kneeling on the tiles of the piazza at my feet was a naked slave.
'I have not forgotten your kiss,' she said. 'Take me to a pleasure rack, I beg you!'
I remembered her. She was the naked, collared slave who, a few moments ago, had seized me and kissed me. I had returned her kiss, in the fashion of a master.
'I have sought you in the crowds,' she said.
The free woman cried out in fury.
I reached down and drew the slave to her feet and then, holding her by the arm, turned away from the free woman.
The free woman gasped, rejected, scorned, of less interest than a slave.
The slave now held my arm, I permitting it, closely, that she not be pulled away from me in the crowds.
'This is not the way to the pleasure racks,' she said.
'You must be patient,' I said.
'Yes, Master,' she moaned, pressing more closely against me. She would be patient. She had no choice in the matter. she was a slave.
I looked back and saw the free woman, turned away, forlorn, her arms clutched about herself, half crouched over. Her body shook with sobs. She trembled with need. I saw that she had strong drives. I smiled. Such drives would bring her, sooner or later, to a man's feet, the only place they can be satisfied.
I paused to watch a portion of a farce. I would let the girl clinging to me increase in her heat.
The girl playing the part of the Golden Courtesan was not unlike Rowena, whom I remembered from three nights ago in the holding of Samos. She had something of the same beauty, the same figure, the same long, golden tresses. The role of the Golden Courtesan, incidentally, when it occurs in more sophisticated Gorean comedy is usually played, like the other roles in such comedies, and in most forms of serious drama, masked. One possible reason for this, though I think tradition probably has much more to do with it, is the such roles in more sophisticated comedy, like roles in more serious drams, are generally played by men. In the major dramatic forms Goreans generally, mistakenly, in my opinion, keep women off the stage. Some feel this practice is a result of the fact that women's voices carry less well than men's voice in the open-air theaters. Given the superb acoustics of many of these theaters, however, in which a coin dropped on the stage is clearly audible in the upper tiers, I feel the practice is more closely connected with tradition, or jealousy, than acoustics. Too, it might be noted that many dramatic masks have megaphonic devices built into them which tend to amplify the actors' voices. If women are generally precluded from participation in the major dramatic forms, they are, however, more than adequately represented in the great variety of minor forms which exist on Gor, such as low comedy, burlesque, mime, farce and story dance. To be sure, these women are usually slaves. Free women, on the whole, affect to find the professional stage, particularly in its manifestations in the minor forms, unspeakably disgusting and indecent; they feign horror at the very thought of themselves going on the stage; it would be much the same thing, surely, as being displayed publicly on a slave platform or slave block. They usually attend performances incognito.
I have mentioned that masks are commonly worn in serious drama and sophisticated comedy, such as it is; I might also mention that they are not worn in most of the minor forms, such as mime or story dance, unless called for by that plot, as in the case of brigands, and so on; farce, on the other hand, represents an interesting case for in it some characters commonly wear masks and others do not; the Comic Father, the Pendant, usually depicting a member of the Scribes, and the Timid Captain, for example, are usually masked, whereas the young lovers, the Golden Courtesan, the Desirable Heiress, and others, are not. Some roles, those of saucy free maids, comic servants, and such, may or may not be masked, depending on the troupe. As you may have gathered many of the characters in Gorean comedy and in the minor forms are, for the most part, stock characters. Again and again one meets pompous merchants, swaggering soldiers, fortune tellers, parasites, peasants and slaves.
These stock characters are well known to Gorean audiences and welcomed by them. For example, the Pompous Merchant and the Wily Peasant are well known. The audience is already familiar with them, from numerous performances in dozens of plays and farces, many of them largely improvised around certain standard types of situations. They know generally how the characters will act and are fond of them. They are familiar even with mannerisms and dialects. Who would accept the Comic Father if he did not have his Turian accent, or the Desirable Heiress if she did not speak in the soft accents of Venna, north of Ar? What would the Timid Captain be if he did not, beneath his long-nosed half-mask, have those fierce mustaches to twirl, the formidable wooden sword dragging behind him? Even gestures and grimaces are well known, looked for, and eagerly awaited. This type of familiarity, of course, gives the actor a great deal to build on. The character, even before he greets the
