Dancer of Gor (28 page)

"It looks like a good house tonight," he said, looking out through the curtain.

I was silent.

"It is nearly the Nineteenth Ahn," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said.

"We will not begin precisely at the Nineteenth Ahn," he said. "We will let them grow a bit restless."

"Yes, Master," I whispered, holding the sheet about me, looking up at him. I a slave in his presence of a free man. He then left. I did not rise to my feet. I did not even know if I could stand.

Outside there were men, Gorean men. I was to dance this night before them. I did not even know if I could get to my feet.

I heard the approach of slave bells, coming from the outer room. I wanted to rise but the strings of the beaded curtain were too quickly flung aside.

"Ah," said Sita, "that is where you belong, Earth slut, on your knees."

"Yes, Mistress," I said to her. I must address all female slaves in the house of Hendow as "Mistress." That order would be in effect until it was explicitly rescinded, probably, depending on my behavior and progress, in a few weeks. This is sometimes done with new girls. It helps to keep discipline among us. I would then, when the order was rescinded, be able to call the girls, with the exception of the "first girl," by their own names. I would be one of them. Tupita was "first girl." We must all call her "Mistress." I was pleased it had not been Tupita who (pg. 171) had come through the curtain and discovered me on my knees, thought, to be sure, had she done so, I would have had to kneel before her. Sita did not like me either. She was an ally of Tupita, and often informed on the other girls.

"You will learn tonight what it is to be a slave, Earth Slut," hissed Sita.

"Yes, Mistress," I said. Sita then, with a sound of bells, went down a corridor, toward the kitchen.

I looked after her, angrily, from my knees. She, too, was only a slave! I hoped that tonight some man would not be satisfied with her and would whip her well. Last night, a customer had put Tupita at a whipping ring and expressed his displeasure with her attitudes. She had then begged to please him in an alcove. He had left her only this morning. Mirus had unchained her later, sometime around noon.

I inched over and, on my knees, looked out through the curtain. There were more men in the tavern now. It must be near the Nineteenth Ahn! Again I hid back, frightened, and sick, behind the wall, away from the curtain. Out there, among the tables, I had seen the dancing floor. It was there I would be placed. The space for the musicians was to the left, as I had looked out. The form of dance to which I had been drawn on Earth, for whatever reason or reasons, whether because of some sort of feared innate, ungovernable sensuousness, or extreme deep-seated feminine dispositions or needs, or perhaps even, simply, a sense of what was appropriate for me, whether I wished it or not, considering the realities of my ultimate nature, I had preferred to think of as "ethnic dance." I had been secretly thrilled, of course, but had scarcely dared, even to myself, to think of it as "belly dance," or, as the French have it, "danse du ventre," a term popular with some, with some perhaps as a euphemism, and with others as a sensuous way of expressing the matter, one with the same objective meaning as "belly dancing" but which, for them, perhaps, has rich and special connotations. To be sure, both terms are in a sense reductive misnomers, for in this form of dance, as in other forms of dance, the dancer dances with her entire body and beauty. I had never cared too much for the term "exotic dance" as that term seems to me too broad, in that it covers not only "ethnic dance," if, indeed, it really covers that, but many other forms of dance as well, which seem to have little in common other than their capacity to be sexually stimulatory. But then, to a discerning eye, most, of all, dance, and certainly ballet, for example, is sexually stimulatory. Those who fear and hate sex have, I think, understood these things (pg. 172) better than many others, for example, low-drive individuals and the sexually inert. On Gor, dance of the sort in which I was expected to perform, is called, simply, "slave dance." This is presumably because it is a form of dance which, for the most part, is thought to be fit only for slaves, and would be performed only by slaves. The thought crossed my mind that the lovely woman who had been my teacher on Earth had once remarked to me, "We are all slaves." I think that is true. Certainly, however, not all women are legal slaves. Many women are free, legally, whether it is in their best interests or not. Such dances, then, "slave dances," at least on Gor, are not for such women. If a "free woman," that is, one legally, free, were to publicly perform such a dance on Gor she would probably find herself in a master's chains by morning. Her "legal freedom," we may speculate, would prove quite fleeting. It would soon be replaced, we may suppose, with a new and more appropriate status, that of being a slave legally, a status fixed on her then with all the clarity and obduracy of Gorean law, and fixed oh her plainly as the collar on her neck and the mark on her thigh. "Slave dance," on Gor, incidentally, is a very rich and varied dance form. It covers a great deal more than simple "ethnic dance." For example, it includes dances such as hunt dances, capture dances, submission dances, chain dances, whip dances, and such. Perhaps what is done in slave dance on Gor would count as "exotic dance" on Earth, but, if we are thinking of the actual kinds of dances performed, then there is much in slave dance, for example, story dances, which are seldom, if ever, included in "erotic dance" which, on Earth, and there are forms of dance in "erotic dance" which, for one reason or another, are seldom, if ever, seen on Gor, for example, certain forms of carnival dancing, such as bubble dancing or fan dancing. Perhaps the reason such dances are seldom, if ever, seen on Gor, is that Goreans would not be likely to regard them as being "real dance." They would be regarded, I think, as little more than culturally idiosyncratic forms of commercial teasing. They are, at any rate, not the sort of dance, or the "danse-du-venre" sort, so pleasing to strongmen, which a slave on Gor, fearing the whip, must often learn to perform.

I heard bells coming, from down the corridor, from within. I was still on my knees. Sita hove into sight, returning to the floor. She paused, looking down at me, kneeling there, clutching the sheet about me, frightened. She was naked, except for her collar, and some beads, colorful, cheap wooden beads, slave beads, and her bells, on her left ankle. she regarded me, at her (pg. 173) feet, contemptuously. I looked up at her, angrily. Why should she regard me so contemptuously? I was clothed. I had a sheet about me! She wore only her collar, and a few beads, and slave bells! "You're naked!" I said to her, angrily.

Swiftly she crouched down before me, and, with two hands, angrily, there in the hall, near the curtain, tore the sheet back, away from me, thrusting it back, and down, over my calves. "So, too, are you!" she hissed. About my neck had been slung several strands of beads, large, colorful wooden beads, slave beads, of different lengths. To some extent they concealed me, but they, other than my collar, were all I wore.

Then, it startling us both, we heard the ringing of the nineteenth bar.

She smiled at me.

Hastily I pulled the sheet up and put it about me as closely as I could, holding it even, in my two fists, high, about my neck.

I looked at her, frightened.

"In a bit," she said, "Tupita and I will put the leash cuffs on you."

She then rose up, quickly. Perhaps she had been away from the floor too long. She hurried through the beaded curtain.

I heard a man outside strike the table with his goblet. "The nineteenth bar! The nineteenth bar!" he called. "The nineteenth bar has struck!"

"Bring forth the slave!" called another.

"Bring her forth!" called another.

Another man or two added to this din, by pounding their goblets on the tables.

I knelt back, out of sight, near the curtain, frightened, clutching the sheet about me. I was not to be brought forth immediately at the Nineteenth Ahn, Mirus had told me. It seemed that it was their intention that the men should wait, at least for a time. They wanted them, apparently, to be kept in suspense, to become eager and restless, perhaps even impatient. I was certainly in no hurry to be conducted onto the floor. On the other hand, I was frightened, too, if the men were too long kept waiting. Perhaps then they would expect too much. What if there were disappointed? I was a new slave, really. How could I please them, truly? I moaned softly to myself. I did not want to feel the lash.

The men seemed not to be fairly quiet outside. Perhaps most of them did not expect me, really, to be brought out on the stroke of the nineteenth bar. Perhaps those who had smote their goblets on the tables and called for me, had, as much as anything, (pg. 174) been voicing a natural disgruntlement at the unwritten customs, which seemed to govern such affairs, at the institution of a time to be set aside for the whetting of appetites. I supposed that there would have to be a judicious sense of timing involved in such matters, that the time must be long enough to bring the audience to a point of eager readiness, perhaps even impatience, without, on the other hand, dallying so long that they became unruly or hostile. I assumed that the house must know what it was doing in these matters. Doubtless I was not the first girl to be conducted out onto the floor, and probably not even the first Earth girl.

"How are you, Doreen?" asked small Ina, crouching down, solicitously, beside me.

I looked at her, gratefully. "All right, Mistress," I whispered.

"Good," she smiled, reassuringly.

Ina did not care in the least, really, I was sure, whether I called her "mistress" or not, but we had both agreed, two weeks ago, when we had become friends, both of us in the kitchen, that it would be better for me to do so, as I was the newest girl. We were both afraid that if I called her by her name, and someone heard, I, and Ina, too, if she had not imposed discipline, would have been punished. For example, we would not have wanted to let either Tupita or Sita catch us in such a negligence.

"Have you had your slave wine?" asked Ina.

"Yes," I said. This is not really a wine, or an alcoholic beverage. It is called "slave wine," I think, for the amusement of the masters. It is extremely bitter. One draught of the substance is reputed to last until the administration of an appropriate "releaser." In spite of this belief, however, or perhaps in deference to tradition, lingering from earlier times, in which, it seems, less reliable "Slave wines" were available, doses of this foul stuff are usually administered to female slaves at regular intervals, usually once or twice a year. Some girls, rather cynical ones, I suspect, speculate that the masters give it to them more often than necessary just because they enjoy watching them down the terrible stuff. This is unlikely, however. There are cheaper and more easily available ingredients for such a mode of discipline than slave wine.

"Good," said Ina. "There is then nothing to worry about."

I looked at her. It had not occurred to me, really, that I had "nothing to worry about."

"The time to worry," said Ina, "is if they decide to make you a breeding slave."

(pg. 175) I nodded.

"You must then drink the releaser," she said.

I nodded numbly.

"I have been told it is quite good," she said.

I looked at her, with horror.

"Really," she said.

Slave wine makes sense in a slave-holding culture, such as Gor. The breeding of slaves, like any sort of domestic animals, and particularly valuable ones, is carefully controlled. As a slave, of course, I could be bred, or crossed, when, and however, my master might see fit. It is the same as with other animals.

I lifted my head a little.

Outside the men were becoming impatient. I could hear the striking of goblets more often now on tables. I heard some shouting.

When the girl is taken to the breeding cell or breeding stall, she is normally hooded. Her selected mate is also hooded. In this fashion personal attachments are precluded. She is not there to know in whose arms she lies, or piteously, and in misery, to fall in love, but to be impregnated. And in accord with the prescribed anonymity of the breeding, as would be expected, the slaved do not speak to one another. They may be slain if they do. Their coupling is public, of course, in the sense that the master, or usually, masters, and sometimes others, whether in an official capacity or not, are present, to make any pertinent payments or determinations.

The men outside, it now seemed to me, were becoming unruly.

"Don't be afraid," said Ina.

"What are men like?" I asked Ina.

"They are glorious, and our masters," said Ina.

"That is not what I mean," I protested.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"What will it be like?" I asked. "Will they hurt me?"

"I suppose some of them may hurt you," she said. "And I suppose any of them would hurt you sometimes. But you must expect that. You are only a slave."

"I do not mean that," I said. I knew, after all, I was a slave. I knew that I must strive to be pleasing to masters, and perfectly so. I knew that I was subject to discipline. I knew I might be, and would be likely to be, punished for the least infraction in my discipline, the least imperfection in my service and the least failure in my pleasingness. Indeed, I knew that, as a slave, my (pg. 176) master did not even need a reason for punishing me. He could punish me for no reason at all, unless perhaps it might simply be that it pleased him to do so then, or, say, it occurred to him to do so then.