Dancer of Gor (7 page)

(pg. 43) I looked at my captor.

"It might interest you to know that you have been on our list for some time," he said.

"List?" I said.

"Yes," he said, "lists, actually. You have been on our scouting list for a year, on our consideration list for six months, and on our active list for some three months."

"I am not a slave!" I cried.

Slowly the man approached me and I shrank back. Then he took me by the upper arms and pulled me up, from my knees, before him, until I was half standing. "On the contrary," he said, "my hateful little charmer, you are. I assure you of it. There is not the least doubt about the matter. We know our work. To a practiced eye, a discerning eye, one which is trained to look for, and recognize, such things, you are obviously a slave. The suitable condition for a woman such as you is perfectly clear, deny it and squirm though you might."

"No, no," I whimpered, turning my head away from him.

"Do you think I cannot recognize slaves?" he asked. "It is my business."

I moaned.

He shook me, and my head snapped back, and I cried out with misery.

"Look at me," he said.

I did so, terrified.

"I, like many others," he said, "can recognize slaves, and, have no fear, I have recognized you as one."

"No, I whimpered, not wanting to look at him.

"Look at me," he said.

Again I looked at him, terrified.

"It is in your eyes," he said.

"No," I wept.

"Even months ago," he said, "when I looked into your eyes, when you sat in those silly garments, behind that foolish desk, I saw that you, beneath all that cotton and wool, were a naked slave."

"No," I wept.

"And I look into them now," he said, "and see that it is true."

"No, no, no!" I wept, turning my head away. I dared not meet those fierce eyes which so frightened me, which seemed somehow to look through me, burning through me like fire, bringing unwelcome, frightening torches to my secret darkness, (pg. 44) penetrating to my deepest and most closely guarded secrets, to what lay in the most secret belly and heart of me.

"Shall I have you dance again, before men?" he asked.

"No," I said. "No!"

"Do not fear," he said, "you will dance again before them, and dance as you have never dreamed a woman could dance before men!"

"No!" I wept. "No, no!"

He released me, and I subsided weakly to my knees before him. It seems that one could do little but kneel before such a man. Then, angrily, he thrust silk in my mouth, my own, that which he had made me take off earlier. I was silenced.

"On all fours," he said.

I went to all fours before him. A loop of the chain leash hung down by my neck, to the right, a foot or so, and then lopped up to its attachment. I could feel its weight. It turned the collar a little to the right.

The men then spoke for a few moments among themselves. I could not understand the language. It seemed expressive, and highly inflected.

The leader turned to me. I saw him remove the whip from his belt. I put my head down. I bit into the silk, holding it in my mouth. I knew I could not remove it without their permission. He had put it in there. I saw the blade of the whip shake free. I began to tremble. I whimpered, the silk in my mouth. I whimpered that I not be beaten.

"You understand the whip, don't you slut?" he asked.

I whimpered, plaintively, pleadingly.

"That is one of the few things a little animal like you clearly understands," he mused.

I whimpered.

"Look at her," said Teibar, my captor, to his man, Taurog, he holding my leash, "she has never felt it, but she senses what it might be like to feel it, what it could do to her."

"Yes," said Taurog.

"But then," said Teibar, "I suppose that all females understand the whip, or if they are stupid, and do not, they may be brought swiftly enough to its proper understanding."

"Yes," said Taurog.

I then felt the blade of the whip move lightly upon my back. I shuddered. I wanted to scream, but I could only whimper, plaintively. The whip, it seemed to me, strangely enough, somehow, was not a stranger to me. I seemed to know it. I wondered, wildly, if I had felt it in former lives. Something about it seemed (pg. 45) almost a terrifying memory. Could I be remembering it, I wondered, from a sunlit shelf in Memphis, from a patio in Athens, from a post in Rome or a ring, cords on my wrists, in a women's quarters in Bokara, Basra, Samarkand or Bagdad? Had I felt it before, somewhere, or in many places, and never, even through a succession of lives, forgotten it? No, I told myself, that would be quite unlikely. On the other hand, I had little doubt that many women in the past, in such places, and in thousands of others, had had their behavior corrected with perfection by just such instruments and their kin, such as the switch, the strap, the bastinado. There was something in me, however, which seemed to know the whip, and terribly feared it. I suppose that this might have been an effect only of the startling alarms of my imagination, they informing me with some vividness as to what it might be to feel its stroke, but I suspect, really, that there was more involved. I suspect that there was a kinship of sorts between myself and the whip, that we were perhaps, in some sense, made for one another, that even if I never felt it I recognized it as having something authoritative, and intimate and important, to do with me, and what, in my heart, I secretly was.

I felt the lash brushing my back, twice more. It seemed to do so thoughtfully, meditatively. I whimpered, biting on the wet silk. Tears fell from my eyes to the carpet. I whimpered, tiny, begging sounds, pleading for mercy. It did not matter to him. I was sure, that I was a modern woman in the Twentieth Century. I might as well have been, as far as he cared, only a curvaceous, beautiful barbarian servant in Epidaurus, or, in the keeping of Crusaders, or in the tents of Mongols, a Persian dancing girl. He was literally considering beating me. What we all had in common was that we were women. Similarly I had not the least doubt that if he wished to beat me, he would do so. He was fully capable, I sensed, of doing whatever he might wish to me, and with perfection.

"No, little slut," he said, removing the whip and replacing it on his belt, "it will be better later."

I shook with relief. I sobbed with relief. I was not to be beaten! I was not to be beaten! Then suddenly I shuddered. I wondered what he might possibly have meant, "that it would be better later."

I looked up at him.

"You delicious, meaningless, sly, viscous, hateful thing," he snarled.

I could not understand his animosity, his seeming hatred of me.

(pg. 46) "Take her out of my sight," he said to Taurog, "lest I be tempted to kill her."

"Come, little slut," said Taurog. He moved beside me, and then ahead of me, and I felt the pressure of the interior of the collar at the back of my neck, on the left, and the tug of the chain. The collar had now, in response to his movements, shifted on my neck. It was apparently not a ring where the chain was attached but, it now seemed, some sort of fixed-position, heavy, welded-in metal staple. This device, to which the chain was attached, where it now exerted its force, was now under my jaw, to my right. I followed Taurog now, on all fours, the silk stuffed in my mouth. He pulled me back behind the xerox machines, where the sight of me would not offend Teibar. There, with his foot, first against my arms and hands, then against my knees and thighs, brushing them outward, toward the extremities in both cases, he let me know his will with respect to my limbs. I went first to my elbows, and then to my belly. I do not think Taurog spoke much English. He had, however, conveyed his intent to me. I realized, lying there on the cool surface, it is a composition surface in that area, on my belly, naked, among the machines, that it is not always necessary to understand a man's language to obey him, or for him to command you. I heard Teibar speaking to Hercon, and then Hercon left for somewhere, as I later found out to gather up my things from the ladies' room. Teibar himself whim I thought of as my personal, and most meaningful, captor, stayed in the vicinity of the table, that on which the attaché case rested. I thought I heard him moving some things about there.

In a short while Hercon returned to the vicinity of the table. A moment later, Teibar said something, apparently to Taurog.

Taurog jerked the chain upward, twice, gently. It was little more than a sound of links, and only the slightest pressures, twice, on the attachment. It was a signal to me.

Taurog made a sound of approval as I rose immediately to all fours. He then led me back tot he table on which the attaché case rested, where Teibar, whom I feared mostly, my chief captor, waited.

I saw a pile of my things there on the carpet, the dancer's costume, my purse, my clothes, those I had worn to the library, and such, near the table. That had been I supposed a result of Hercon's brief absence. He was now back. Taurog said something to Teibar.

"Taurog," said Teibar, looking down at me, "is pleased with (pg. 47) you. He thinks you may have an instinctive understanding of chain signals."

I could not speak, the wet silk in my mouth. I could only look up at him.

"It is possible," he said, "You are a woman."

I looked up at him, angrily.

He then removed a small object from his pocket. I think I had seen it before, near the front doors of the library, when I had seen him there, and had fled back, away from him. He pointed it at the pile of clothing, and diverse articles. A line of light, causing me to pull back, crying out, half blinded, burned forth from the object. When I could see, I saw that the rug was gone there, and that, about, there were only ashes.

"There is this other thing," said Hercon, lifting the tape recorder. Doubtless the tapes were near it.

"Leave it, and its musics," said Teibar. "Let those who come upon it ponder its meaning."

Hercon replaced the recorder on its table.

I was trembling. I had seen what had become of the clothing, and such, on the floor. I was not familiar with the technology these men had at their disposal. It seemed, however, powerful, and sophisticated. Oddly enough, it did not seem congenial to the type of world of which he had spoken. Could it be that on that world such devices were not permitted? I saw the small object pointed at me. I shook my head, wildly, whimpering, biting on the silk, tears in my eyes. I knew its burning line, that intense beam or blade, could divide me, fluids hissing, boiling, in an instant. "You understand what we could do, if we wished, don't you?" he asked. I nodded vigorously, affirmatively, tears in my eyes. Then he returned it to his pocket. I collapsed to the rug, unable to bear my own weight.

"Put her on the table," he said.

Taurog reached down and picked me up, lightly, and put me on my back, on the table, near the attaché case. The men pushed chairs back, so that they might stand about the table.

I looked up at Teibar, terrified. He drew the silk from my mouth.

"Please," I wept.

"Were you given permission to speak?" he asked.

"No," I whispered.

"Perhaps I do not wish to hear you speak," he said. He was opening, and then smoothing out, and folding the bit of wet silk I had had thrust in my mouth. It was then in a soft, damp, (pg. 48) layered, folded form some six or seven inches square. He put it beside me, beside my left hip.

"May I speak?" I asked. I then realized that no gag was needed to silence me. It could be done to me as simply and effectively by the will, or mere whim, of men such as there. By such men I could be silenced by a mere word, or a gesture or glance.

"Remove her bells," he said to Hercon. "Anklet her. The virgin anklet."

"Please," I said.

"Very well," he said.

"What is this all about?" I begged. "What are you going to do with me, really?"

I felt Hercon's strong fingers working the thong on my left ankle. I heard the rustle of bells.

"Who are you?" I demanded.

"Teibar," he said.

I moved my head in frustration. The collar, so close, and heavy, and confining, was on my neck. I heard the movement of the chain, behind me, where it dangled over the edge of the table.

"But what are you?' I begged.

"Human," he said, "as are you, in your petty, nasty way."

"Why do you hate me?" I asked.

"Because of what you are, and what you would do to men," he said.

"What?" I asked.

"Destroy them," he said.

"I am not going to destroy men," I said.

"I know," he said, "now."

"I don't understand!" I wept.

Then I felt the bells removed from my ankle. Hercon handed them to Teibar, who placed them, on their thong, on the soft, damp silk beside me.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked. "What are you, really!"

"I am a businessman," he said.

"What is your business?" I asked, plaintively.

"I am an exporter," he said.

I then felt a sturdy metal anklet closed about my left ankle, where the bells had been. It snapped shut. I had no doubt it locked. I gathered there might be different sorts of such anklets. This one, I had gathered, was a "virgin anklet."