haunches, by the now built-up fire. It shook its head and bit at the fur on its arm, as though grooming itself. It then, slowly, lay down. The handle of the sword rose an inch or so, then, showing the blade, as the beast lay back. the point had apparently entered the dirt behind it, but, too, in virtue of this resistance, the blade itself, pressed up, emerged slightly from the body. The beast reached to the handle of the sword with its large hands, or paws, with those six, tentaclelike digits. They touched the handle but could not close about it. It then put its arms down, to the sides. Blood was at its mouth, and chest, from around the blade.
My master looked at me. He was breathing heavily. He was visibly shaken. 'Lie across it,' he said, on your back, with your head down.'Swiftly I put the sticks on the fire and lay across the beast, on my back, my head down. I was terrified. It was still alive. I could feel the heat of its body, its breathing, its blood on my back. my master' s weapon was still in the beast. It was near my waist, as I lay, on my left. He was breathing heavily. He looked down at me. He then suddenly, rudely, fiercely, not sparing me, thrust apart my knees. We were alive, the two of us! We had survived! 'Master!' I cried, impaled by, and submitting to, the beauty, the glory, the surgency of his eager, claimant, merciless, rejoicing manhood. And it was thus he took the slave, who was his, putting her to his pleasure on the body of the beast. This act, in its emotional power, its significance and complexity, was indescribable. It was an act of assertive aggressiveness, of vitality, of joy, of significance. It was a release from the fear of death, it was a thanksgiving for fate and fortune, it was an affirmation of life, it was the cry of a wild verr in the mountains, the leaping of a fish in the sea, the roar of the larl, the hiss of the sleen, the scream of a tarn in the sky. Only to those who have been closest to death is the value of life most dear.
He then, gently, drew me from the beast. He kissed me, and held me to him. 'Tomorrow we will leave the camp,' he said.
'It was for this that you were waiting?' I asked.
'Yes,' he said.
'It is dead,' I said.
'Yes,' he said.
He then drew his sword from the body of the beast, and cleaned it on its fur. 'You did not choose to leave an enemy behind you,' I said.
'Nor did he,' he said.
'Would it have followed you?' I asked.
'Yes,' he said.
'You knew that it was about,' I said, 'because of the dust of the others, those in the meadow, their burial.'
'I thought it would linger,' he said. 'The dust, of course, convinced me that my conjecture was correct.'
'You seem to know something of these things,' I said, shuddering.
'A little,' he said.
'What is to be done now?' I asked.
'I shall take it to the meadow, and put it with the others,' he said, 'burying it, as it did them, with a handful of dust. After that there is the matter of rites, of suitable ceremonies.'
'It is only a beast,' I said to him.
'No,' he said, 'it is more than a beast.'
I looked at him.
'It was of the People,' he said.
'Yes, Master,' I said.
'Remain here,' he said.
'Yes, Master,' I said.
34 Love
'Master well knows how to use a slave,' I gasped. 'Will he not be merciful with me? What does he want of me? I am only a slave! Must he drive me mad with passion?'
'Be silent,' he grumbled.
I twisted helplessly in the love chains. I jerked helplessly again them, the rings cutting into my ankles, pulling against my wrists. There are many varieties of such chains. These were simple and had been earlier taken from the wagoner' s bench, part of the loot which my master had divided between himself and Mirus. Each consisted of a wrist ring and an ankle ring, joined by about ten inches of chain. My left wrist had been attached to my left ankle, my right wrist to my right ankle. I was on my back. A chain was also on my neck. It fastened me to a nearby tree, a yard or so from our blankets.
'You danced well, earlier,' he said.
'Master!' I gasped. 'Master!'
His tongue was incredible, so gentle, so subtle and yet so persuasive, so forceful, so irresistible.
'You are a hot slave,' he commented.
'Hot! I was flaming, and helpless!
He drew back a bit, amused.
Quickly I lifted myself piteously, suppliantly to him.
'Is this how the woman of Earth behave?' he asked.
'I am no longer of Earth,' I said. 'I am of Gor, and a slave! Be merciful, I beg it, to a helplessly aroused slave!'
He chuckled, the beast, at my discomfiture, and helplessness, and need! 'Please, please!' I begged.
'You are far from Earth now, and your library, slave,' he said.
'Yes, Master! Yes, Master!' I said. 'Please, please, Master!' I lifted myself to him in mute petition.
How he relished the power he held over me!
'Oh, yes!' I cried, as his tongue, again touched me. It had been a tiny, subtle touch, and yet, as he doubtless knew, from my distraught condition, it had brought me to the point where my response was totally within his power and I must beg.
'Please, Master,' I whimpered.
'Do you beg?' he asked.
'Yes, Master!' I said.
'Who begs?' he asked.
'Tuka, the slave of Teibar of Ar, begs!' I moaned.
Again his tongue touched me and I threw back my head and screamed with joy, jerking against the chains. 'Oh!' I cried. 'Oh!' I shuddered, and thrashed and gasped. Then I lay quiet in his chains, looking up at him in wonder, in gratitude. I was his. My entire body was rich in the memory of what he had done to me, in one sense what he had made me beg for, in another sense what he had forced me to endure.
'I am yours,' I said.
'That is known to me,' he said. He then touched me again, this time gently, with his hand.
Again I looked up at him, helplessly.
'You are mine to caress,' he said.
'Yes, my master,' I whispered. Then he made me cry out, softly, and then turned me to my belly on the blankets, and lifted me to him. Then he permitted me to lie on my side, and I tried to kiss at his body.
'You are a grateful slave,' he said.
'Yes, Master,' I said.
'And a passionate slave,' he said.
'Yes, Master!' I said.
'Where are the severe garments of the librarian?' he asked. He referred doubtless to the long-sleeved blouse, the dark sweater, the severe skirt, the low-heeled shoes, such things.
'I do not know, Master,' I said.
'And where, too, now, is that librarian?' he asked.
'She who was that librarian,' I said, 'is here, but she is now only a naked slave, and she begs to kiss her
