"What is going on?" asked a fellow coming up to the wagon, fastening a belt of accouterments about himself.
"See what we have here," said the first fellow.
"Ah!" he said.
"She claims to be a free woman," said the first fellow.
"Of course," said the second.
"A man captured me," I said. "He took my clothes! He sheared my hair, for money!"
"If you are a free woman," said the second man, he, I gathered, who was Durbar, "what are you doing here, crawling about with slaves?"
"I was afraid," I said.
"If you are truly a free woman," said the first man, "what were you afraid of?" "You are right," I said. "I am a free woman. I should not have been afraid." The two men laughed, and the chained women, as well. I looked about, at them, from face to face. I saw their amusement. I saw the collars and chains on their necks. How foolish I felt. I had again been tricked. obviously, in a situation like this, a free woman might have a great deal to fear.
"I am hungry," I said. "I am desperately hungry. I am starving. Please give me something to cat."
"Bring her something to eat," said the first man to him called Durbar "something appropriate."
Durbar left. In a few moments be returned with a small wooden bowl filled with dried, precooked meal. He poured some water into this.
I was then handed the bowl.
Some of the women laughed.
"Mix it with your fingers," said the first man. Then be turned to Durbar. "Look about the camp," he said. "See if there are any more skulking about." "I am alone," I told them.
But Durbar went to check.
I, mixing the water with the precooked meal, formed a sort of cold porridge or gruel. I then, with my fingers, and putting the bowl even to my lips, fed eagerly upon that thick, bland, moist substance.
By the time Durbar had returned I had finished, even to the desperate wiping and licking of the bowl, that I might secure every last particle of that simple, precious, vitalizing provender.
"You eat slave gruel well," said the first men. There was laughter from the chained women.
I put down my head. The bowl was taken from me. So that was slave gruel, I thought. I knew that it, with its various supplements, was extremely nourishing. It had been designed for the feeding of slaves, to keep them healthy, slim and trim. On the other hand, although I had devoured it eagerly, I could see where a slave who was not starving might, after a time, desperately strive to improve her services to the master, that he might see fit, in his kindness, to grant her at least the scraps of a more customary diet.
"Do you still claim to be a free woman?" asked the first man.
"Yes," I said.
"You have the body of a slave," be said.
"It is not my fault," I said, "that I have the body of a slave." "Can you read?" he asked.
"No," I said.
"What is your name?" he asked.
I thought wildly for a moment. Then I said, "Tiffany, La Tiffany!"
"What sort of name is that?" he asked.
"I do not know," I said.
"It is an unusual name," he said.
"Maybe it is a barbarian name," suggested Durbar.
"Are you a barbarian?" asked the first man.
"Maybe," I said. I saw scorn in the faces of several of I chained women. "Look," said the first man, taking me by the upper arm, and turning it to the light. "The barbarian brand."
I did not see how I could explain this vaccination mark the men without making clear that my origin was not Gorean. The vaccination was in connection with a disease which, too, as far as I knew, did not even exist on Gor.
"Get on your feet, here by the lantern," said the first m "And open your mouth, widely."
I complied.
"Durbar, come up here," said the first man. He was joined by his fellow. "Back there, see?" he asked Durbar.
"Yes," said Durbar.
As a child I had had some fillings in the molar area, on lower left side. "They are common in barbarians," said the first man.
"Yes," said Durbar. "But, those of the caste of physician do such things. I have seen them in some Gorean girls."
"That is true," admitted the first man.
These fellows must also know that doubtless such things might be found occasionally in the mouths of some Gorean men. On the other hand, of course, they would not have been likely to have seen them there. They would have seen them presumably, only in the mouths of girls, slaves. One of things that a master commonly checks in a female he is considering buying is the number and condition of her teeth.
"Lie back down," said the first man, "on your back, as before."
I did so.
"Are you a barbarian?" he asked.
"Yes," I said. I did not see how I could, in the light of facts, hope to conceal this from them.
Several of the women laughed. Barbarians, I gather were to be held in contempt. The men, however, I no somewhat to my uneasiness, did not seem to be viewing with contempt. They were viewing me, rather, with definite interest. I did not understand clearly, at that time, the rather special position on Gor occupied by barbarian slaves. Servile and low, and trained to sensuous wonders, they often brought high prices; to many Gorean men they seemed ideal objects, or among such, on which to slake their most primitive and brutal sexual lusts.
"You speak the language very well," said the first man. "I could not even place your accent. indeed, I was not even certain it was barbarian."
"It is," I said. "Thank you."
As I lay at their feet, on the blanket, on the boards of the slave wagon, they were looking down at me. I was aware that it was very much as a female that I was being looked at.
"what are you going to do with me?" I asked.
The first man shrugged. "Turn you over to the authorities," he said. "Please do not do so," I begged. "Please!"
They continued to look at me.
"Please," I begged. "Please, please," I whimpered. I lifted my body, piteously, to them.
"Slut!" hissed one of the chained slaves.
"Please," I whimpered. "Please!"
"We'll give you a trial," said the first man. "You first, Durbar." I reached up for him as he crouched down, swiftly, between my legs. Durbar was not first in the camp, I realized.
He would warm me for the use of the other. It was he whom I must especially please.
A few Ehn later, in the arms of the leader, the first driver, I suddenly cried out with fear and surprise. It had been my intention to be especially pleasing to him but, suddenly, it seemed as though I were being taken away from myself. "No!" I said, suddenly. "Please, stop!" But I clutched him desperately. "Stop!" I begged. "Oh, stop!" I gritted my teeth.
My fingernails cut into his arm and back. "Slut!" hissed one of the slaves. "Slut!"
"The feelings!" I cried. "The feelings! Please, stop!" But the brute laughed, and did not stop.
"I cannot stand it!" I cried
But still the beast did not desist!
The sensation that Speusippus had begun to induce in me long ago, that which had struck such terror into me, now, seemingly from somewhere deep in my belly, began to emerge irresistibly. I had not known what it would be like in its larger effect, let alone its resolution.
"No!" I cried.
And then I yielded to him.
"Slut, slut, slut!" hissed one of the slaves.
I then clutched him, startled and astounded. I could hardly believe what I had felt. I held tightly to him. "Please do not let me go," I begged. "Hold me, if only for a moment! Hold me! Hold me, please!"
"what a slut she is," said a woman.
"Yes," said another.
I held tightly to the man. I tried to cope with my feelings and understandings. It had been my intention merely to be very pleasing to him; I had desired, really, to do little but give him great pleasure. Then something had happened. It seemed somehow as though he had suddenly taken me away from myself. He had taken command of me. He had suddenly begun to make me move and respond according to his will, not mine. He had literally given me no choice. He had forced my yielding. He had made me come to him and rather, I was afraid, like a slave. I was a bit disappointed in one way. It was I who was in the position of the slave. I had wanted to serve him, to please him, to bring him pleasure. Instead I myself had been forced to feel pleasure and even, choiceless, to yield. "Did I please you?" I asked.