She put down her head. “Yes,” she said. Then she lifted her head. “Sometimes I am clumsy,” she said,You may not understand. There are skills required, sometimes, delicate skills. Such tasks, seeming so simple to you, are not always without difficulty. It is not easy to perform such tasks well.” “Requiring skills or not,” I told her, “such tasks are servile.” “Yes,” she said, “they are servile.” “Learn them,” I told her.
“Yes,” she said, “-Master.”
I turned away from her.
“Be kind to me!” she cried.
“No,” said I, not turning.
“Chain me!” she cried.
I turned and faced her. “No,” I told her.
She threw herself at me, across the sand, her fists raised to strike me. I caught her fists, and held them, as she struggled.
“I hate you!” she wept. “I hate you!”
I released her fists. She pulled at the collar on her throat, her mouth trembling, her eyes wild with tears.
“You branded me,” she said. “You collared me!” She faced me. “I hate you!” she cried. “I hate you!” “Be silent, Slave,” said I to her.
Then suddenly she looked at me, boldly. She challenged me, in her stance and carriage, with her shoulders, her eyes.
“No,” I said.
“Use me,” she cried, “or give me to your crew!”
I regarded her.
She stepped back a foot in the sand. She was frightened. She had been insolent. I stepped to her. She looked into my eyes. They were those of a Gorean master. With my hand I cuffed her brutally across the mouth, blasting her head to one side.
She turned back to face me, her eyes glazed, blood on her face.
With one hand I tore the fillet from her hair. with one hand I tore the sleeveless garment of white wool. I bent to the sand and picked up the slave chains which, half covered with sand, lay there.
“No!” she said.
By the arm I thrust her, stumbling, to the darkness of the small canvas shelter at the side of the Tesephone.
There I thrust her to the sand, at my feet. I locked the slave chains on her. She did not move. I sat then beside her, in the darkness, in the sand, under the canvas. Then I reached out to take her head in my hands. As I did so I felt her head turn, and heard her, in the darkness, gasp and sob. Her lips, suddenly, parted, moist, almost uncontrollably, pressed a kiss into the palm of my hand. Then I held her head between my hands. I could feel the hair at the side of her head.
“Be kind to me,” she begged.
I laughed, softly. She moaned. I heard the chains move.
“Please be kind to me,” she begged.
“Be silent,” said I, “Slave.”
“Yes,” she whispered, “-Master.”
I pressed my lips to hers. With my finger tip I touched her body, and felt its vital, obedient helpless surge. I marveled. She began to breathe heavily. As a Gorean master, curious, I gently, delicately, touched her nipples. They were sweet and high, full and blood-charged. I was pleased. I kissed them, gently. Her responses were not feigned.
“You are an excited slave,” I told her.
She did not respond, but turned her head to one side. I heard her sob. Then I again touched her, my finger gently to her body. To my incredible pleasure, that of the master of this slave. I felt her body move helplessly, spasmodically. The body of Sheera, once the proud panther girl, now only a collared slave, branded, and rightless, an animal, leaped submissively, uncontrollably, to the slightest touch of her master.
I heard Thurnock and some of the others, begin to stir about.
It was dawn.
Cara had already lit a fire.
Sheera lay against me in the sand, her head pressed against my waist. She was still chained.
“You must be up soon,” I told her, touching her head. “You will have duties to attend to.” “Yes, Master,” she whispered.
I stroked her head, gently, as it lay against me.
“I cannot help it that I am not as beautiful as the other girls,” said Sheera. I did not speak.
“I cannot help it,” she said, “that my breasts are too small, that my wrists and ankles are too thick.” “I find you very beautiful,” I said.
She rose on her elbows, with a rustle of chain. “Could a girl such as I please a man?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said, “very much so.”
“But I am not beautiful,” she said.
“You are very beautiful,” I told her.
“Am I truly beautiful?” she asked.
I rose on one elbow. “You are a truly beautiful woman,” I told her. She smiled. How beautiful she was!
I seized her in my arms and threw her to her back in the sand. She looked up at me, happily. “And like every truly beautiful woman,” I told her, “you should be a slave.” She laughed. “I am a slave,” she said. “Your slave.” She lifted her lips to mine.
I kissed her.
“Today,” I said, “Rim goes to Laura, to fetch paga slaves for the men. In the morning, we go into the forests.” “Then,” she said, “Master, you have nothing to do today?” I lay on my back. “Yes,” I said, “that is true.” “If you will unchain me,” she said, “I will be up and about my duties.” “Cara and Tina can manage,” I told her.
“Oh?” she said.
“Yes,” I said.
“But what then,” she asked, “am I to do today?”
“Thurnock!” I called.
“Yes, Captain,” I heard, from outside the shelter.
“Command the camp today,” I told him.
Thurnock gave a great laugh, and Sheera thrust her head against my side. “Will you have food in your shelter?” he laughed.
“Yes,” I told him, “from time to time.”
He laughed and turned away.
Sheera looked at me. She was smiling. “And I?” she asked. “Do I have duties today?” “Yes,” I told her.
She laughed.
I took her again in my arms.
7 Greena
Softly, stealthily, the long bow of yellow Ka-la-na, from the wine trees of Gor, in my hand, I moved through the brush and trees.
At my hip was slung the quiver, with sheaf arrows, twenty of them, of black tem wood, piled with steel, winged with the feathers of the Vosk gull.
I wore a garb of green, mottled, striped irregularly with black. When I did not move, did I stand among the brush and light trees, in the sunlight and shadows, it was difficult to detect my presence, even from a distance of some yards. Movement is the danger, but one must move, to eat, to hunt.
I saw a tiny brush urt scurry past. I was not likely to encounter sleen until darkness. Panthers, too, hunted largely at night, but, unlike the sleen, were not invariably nocturnal. The panther, when hungry, or irritable, hunts. Overhead were several birds, bright, chattering, darting, swift among the branches and green leaves. I heard the throaty warbling, so loud for such a small bird, of the tiny horned gim. Somewhere, far off, but carrying through the forest, was the rapid, staccato slap of the sharp beak of the yellow-breasted hermit bird, pounding into the reddish bark of the tur tree, hunting for larvae. There was not much breeze today. The forest, for the trees were more widely spread and the brush thick, was hot. I brushed back an insect from my face. I ranged far ahead of my men, scouting beyond them. We had left at dawn of the preceding day. I took ten with me, including Rim. Thurnock I left behind, at the camp, in command. We had purposely entered the forest to hunt sleen. We had circled far to the east and north.
We would not approach Verna’s camp and dancing circle by means of the blazed trail.
I did not know if Talena lay slave in Verna’s camp or not. If she did not, Verna and her band, would surely know her whereabouts.
My men carried sleen nets, as though they might be sleen hunters. Such nets, however, would also be suitable for the snaring of female slaves.
I had given Verna and her band their chance.
I brushed back another insect from my face.
I was pleased that I would soon regain Talena.
We would make a splendid couple, she and I, the beautiful Talena, daughter of the Ubar of Ar himself, and the great Bosk, Admiral of Port Kar, jewel of gleaming Thassa.