Part 26 (1/2)

They wanted us that way, and saw to it that that would be the way we would be kept.

Little on Earth prepares a woman for Gor.

”Return to the foot of the dais, and stand,” said the man in the chair.

I backed down the steps of the dais, on all fours, and then, at its foot, rose to my feet.

”Bring slave wine,” he said.

My heart leaped.

Dorna, angrily, descended the steps of the dais behind the thronelike chair and went again to the table beneath the roofed defense work.

I was pleased.

I looked down, shyly.

I had been given slave wine in the pens, of course, but it was not mine to call that to their attention.

Indeed, the matter was undoubtedly noted on my papers.

Perhaps these men merely wished to make sure of the matter. Or perhaps they merely wished to have me drink slave wine before them, either for their amus.e.m.e.nt, or because of the effects of this act, which were not only practical but symbolic. The effect of slave wines, at least those now in general use, seems to be indefinite, but they are commonly renewed annually, perhaps largely for symbolic purposes. One removes the effects of such wine by drinking a ”releaser.” The wines themselves could be sweetened, but are normally served bitter, which taste, as I understand it, is closer to that of the original root, the sip root, from which they are ultimately derived. The ”releaser” or, at least, the wine in which it is mixed, the ”breeding wine” or ”second wine,” is sweet. The breeding of slaves, like that of most domestic animals, is carefully supervised. Slave breeding usually takes place in silence, at least as far as speech is concerned.

Similarly the slaves are normally hooded. They are not to know one another. This is thought useful in reducing, or precluding, certain possible emotional complications. The breeding takes place under the supervision of masters, or their agents, with endors.e.m.e.nts being recorded on proper papers I was pleased, of course, because, just as I took my feeding to be an indication that I was to be kept, if only for a time, so, too, I would interpret my being given slave wine as const.i.tuting something of a rea.s.surance of my desirability, something in the nature of an indication that I might have been found, these men looking upon me, not without promise as a kajira, even though I was a woman of Earth.

Dorna handed me the goblet.

I could be every bit as good as a woman of this world, I was sure!

I did not even look at Dorna.

Who needed to look upon her? I stood naked before the dais, and looked up at he who sat in the thronelike chair.

What could a woman of my world be before such men but their slave? And they would have it so!

Choiceless we would serve, docile, obedient, fearful, overwhelmed.

They were our masters. Did they care what was in our secret hearts? Did they know we wished to be taken in hand, commanded, prized? Did they know we wished to be objects of such desire, that we wanted to be sought, tenaciously and powerfully, and relished? Did they know they had appeared in a thousand secret dreams, as our masters? Did they know that we were born for them, that we would be forever incomplete without them? I asked only, choicelessly, to love and serve such men.

”Drink the wine, s.l.u.t!” hissed Dorna.

I did not look at her, but at the man in the chair. I felt suddenly very strong, and very powerful, though I was so small and weak. I had aroused the interest of these men as a kajira. I was sure of that. Let Dorna fear then for her place on a chain! I would happily, eagerly, compete with her for the privilege of kneeling before such men!

I lifted the wine a little upward and toward the man in the chair. I then looked at him over the rim of the goblet. My eyes spoke to him, I think eloquently, over the rim of the goblet, telling him doubtless what he knew, that before him there stood a slave.

I then drank. It was terribly bitter. I shook with the bitterness. I clutched the goblet with both hands.

”Do not spill any,” warned Dorna.

Tears came to my eyes.

”Hurry, slave,” said Dorna. ”More quickly!”

I lifted the goblet again.

It seemed more bitter than that I had had in the pens.

”Hurry,” said Dorna.

I could hardly take a sip.

”Hurry,” she insisted.

I looked to her for mercy, but in her eyes there was none.

”Drink, s.l.u.t,” she said.

Then I tried to rush the fluid, that I might be finished before I could fully taste it.

It was mostly gone then and I held to the goblet, and shuddered, and coughed.

There was laughter.

In the cup there now remained only a tiny bit. I could even see the bottom of the goblet through what remained.

I looked again to Dorna, but she was merciless.

”Finish it,” said she. ”Drain the cup. Drink it to the last drop.”

I finished the liquid, to the last drop. Dorna swept the goblet from my hand and took it away.

I stood before the men, half bent over. I could still taste the bitterness, palpably, like tiny, foul damp grains in my mouth, on my tongue, my lips. I put my hands over my face, as much to wipe away my tears as anything. I trembled. Then I took down my hands and straightened up I looked about a little. I sensed now that the men looked upon me somewhat differently. Now doubtless I was more what they wanted, or, perhaps, actually, merely more a.s.suredly so. Was I not now, even more obviously than before, a plaything or a possession, something that might figure in the most casual of gratifications, something which now might be utilized even in amus.e.m.e.nt or sport, with no fear whatsoever of any inconvenient consequences? I looked up at the man in the chair.

I now felt no more than a cringing, vulnerable slave.

”Let her be collared,” he said.

I gasped, and put my hand to my throat.

”There are various collars,” said Dorna.

”A common collar will do,” said he.

I would not have expected to have worn other than a common collar, of course. There are many sorts of collars. The most familiar are the ”common collar,”

which, in its varieties, tends to be flat and closely fitting, and the ”Turian collar,” which, in its varieties, is more rounded, and barlike, and fits more loosely. Both lock behind the back of the neck. Dorna wore a ”common collar.” Some other types of collars are decorative collars, holding collars, training collars and punishment collars.

”A used collar?” said Dorna.

”Certainly,” said he.