'Yes, Master,' I said.
'Most of what I have told you is on that plaque to the right,' he said. 'Yes, Master,' I said. I could not read.
'Come along,' he said, with a sound of chain giving me a tug on the leash. 'That is a curvy slave,' said a man, approvingly.
I did not know if he had referred to me or not. Perhaps he had. A ta-teera leaves few of a girl' s charms to the imagination. I quickly followed my master, taking care not to let the leash grow taut. I may have been mistaken, but I felt that men were looking at me. Perhaps they had noticed, too, the double flute on my master' s back. if so, they may have taken an additionally close look at me, more than the usual Gorean master' s appraisal of delectable slave meat, deciding then whether or not it might be of interest to follow us.
'Here,' said my master, stopping in a shady corner of the square.
'Yes, Master,' I said.
There was a building there. In the wall of it, about a foot from the ground, there were four or five slave rings. Such things are common in Gorean public places. They provide masters with a convenience for the tethering of their slaves.
Some men gathered around.
I loosened the cords which kept the pallet on my back. I removed the pallet from my back and put it on the ground. I undid the strings which kept it rolled, and spread it. It was to the left of the nearest slave ring. I took the copper bowl from about my neck and put it beside the pallet. My master then put his end of the least twice about the slave ring and, with a heavy padlock, passed through two leash rings, secured it there. I was now chained to the slave ring. I knelt beside the bowl. I kept my head down.
My master removed his long double flute from his back.
I braced myself for an instant.
I think that anyone in the square must have heard those sounds. He then, for two or three minutes, played soft, full, melodious tunes, sensuous, inviting tunes. Men began to gather around, in greater numbers. There was soon a small crowd there.
I kept my head down.
My master would decide when the crowd was sufficient. I recollected the monument in the square, the heroic figures, and the women, doubtless booty, at their feet. I recollected, too, in particular, the frieze encircling the base of the monument. I recalled in particular, the lofty Tatrix on her throne, in the beginning of the frieze, and later, the procession of those who came suing for peace, bearing conciliatory gifts, animals, riches, women and such. I recalled the Tatrix, fully clothed, in chains, placed on her knees before the victor. I recalled, too, the last portion of the frieze, where she sat beside the victor, in her tiara, gracing his victory feast, half stripped, while women of her city, totally naked, served and danced. I was excited by the frieze. I was excited, too, as a slave, by the men about. In the presence of men, sometimes to my dismay and embarrassment, I would feel warm and wonderful between my legs. This was permissible, of course, for I was only a slave. Those women in the frieze had probably been free women, at least at the time. their freedom, however, I did not doubt, would have proved fleeting, and soon they would have been distributed among the victors, or disposed of, for profit, in various slave markets. I wondered if the general would have had the Tatrix, sold in a cheap market or if he would have kept her for himself, perhaps as the least of his own slaves. But I, myself, was not a free woman. I was only a slave. I loved the freedom, and liberation this gave me, to be a full woman. I then heard the soft swirl of music which I well recognized.
I rose gracefully to my feet, and stood before the men. I heard the soft intaking of breath in several of them, in anticipation. How powerful I felt then, thought I was only a slave, chained at a ring.
With the music of the double flute in the background I modestly removed the Ta-Teera, putting it to the side.
'Ah!' said a man.
'Marvelous,' said another.
I adjusted the chain, placing it between my breasts. It went to the ground where it lay in a coil, then moved back to the ring. By intent it was of a generous length. I pulled it down a bit, at the collar. I did this in such a way that the men could tell it was well locked there. I knew this would excite them, as it excited me. Too, of course, as a practical matter, this further assured that the draw would be at the front of the collar. I flexed my knees. I lifted my hands over my head, gracefully, their wrists back to back.
My master let me dance for four or five minutes, until the men were in a frenzy of need. I performed even what are called 'floor movements' for them. I saw their eyes blazing. Such is the power of the dancer.
I then, at the finish of the music, knelt before them, submitting, as a female slave, and then, still kneeling, lifted my head. 'May I speak, Masters?' I asked. 'Yes,' cried several of the men. 'I have need of the touch of a man,' I said. 'I beg the touch of a man. Who will touch me?' these were words I had been taught to say, even, of course, the appropriate petition, that of a slave girl, to speak before masters. But, too, I had been excited. They were men, and I was a slave. I did want their touch, and desperately. The only sexual attention my master gave me, wanting to keep me in need for customers, was an occasional raping.
I felt myself seized by the upper arms, half lifted from my knees, and flung back on the pallet. I heard a small coin, a tarsk bit, ring in the copper bowl. I seized the lustful brute to me, desperately, thankfully! I was hot and open, and slave needful! In an instant he was finished with me. I half sat up, but was caught, and thrust back to the pallet. I heard another coin strike in the bowl. I closed my eyes, gratefully.
I served muchly that afternoon, and five times did I dance. Sometimes in my dance I made use of the chain, sometimes pretending, to the music, to fight it, a fight which I had to lose, or not to understand it, looking to the men then, as though they might explain its meaning to me; they did, with raucous cries; sometimes I used it to caress me, with the soft, lovely chain caresses of bondage, to which I, whimpering, responded; sometimes I seemed to confine myself variously, seemingly sometimes more strictly, more helplessly, more mercilessly, with it; sometimes I kissed it and caressed it, gratefully and lovingly expressing therein the welling up within me of my joy at finding myself at last in my rightful place in nature; there is much that one can do with a chain. Once a free woman came to watch, for a moment, I dared not meet her eyes, but, too, I did not falter in my dance, or beauty; indeed, I tried to show her, lovingly, as one woman to another, what a woman could be, even a lowly slave, especially a lowly slave. She hurried away, trembling with her robes. I wondered if sometimes she, too, would care to wear a collar, and move so before men.
I then, late in the afternoon, lay upon the pallet. I could hear, beneath its narrow, sewn canvas surface, the crinkling of the straw within. There were several coins in the copper bowl. My master had taken some out, from time to time, during the afternoon. One normally leaves enough in the bowl to act as an invitation to others, but not so much as to suggest that there is no need of more, if only to keep the others company.
'What got into you today?' asked my master.
'Master?' I asked, lying on my side on the pallet, the chain on my neck. 'I think I have never seen you so needful and hot,' he said.
'My needs grow upon me, Master,' I said. It was true. But, also today I was charged with seeing the square, the buildings and the people of Market of Semris. It was as though I had suddenly found myself marvelously transported to the past, and one in which I must helplessly meet its conditions, and obey it, and on its own terms, and perfectly, not mine. Market of Semris might have been a town in Hellas or Latium. I was thrilled to be there, if only as a slave. I would not have traded the beautiful, marvelous world of Gor, even with its perils, for anything. Too, I had not forgotten the monument and the frieze. I would never forget it. It had much excited me, in its style, beauty and graphicness, and in its simple, unquestioned, unevasive public representation, albeit in a political and commemorative context, of natural biological relationships.
'Slave,' said my master.
'Master?' I asked. I turned on my back. I saw that his needs were upon him. I smiled at him, eager to please him. I lifted my arms to him.
'To your stomach,' he said.
I obeyed. He would keep me well in my place.
My master was Gordon, an itinerant musician. I was a street dancer.
When he had finished he stood up.
'Your slave,' said a man, a tall fellow, in swirling robes, 'is not without interest.'
