Gently, with his foot, Bosk of Port Kar awakened me. I had lain asleep at the foot of the curule chair in the outer room.
"It is nearly midnight," he said to me. "I must be away."
"Yes, Master," I said, rubbing my eyes.
Elicia knelt behind him. Her hands were tied behind her back.
He would take her to the roof and tie her over the saddle of his tarn, carrying her away to Port Kar.
I looked at her.
Her. dark hair was loose about her shoulders. I could see the gold of the earrings almost hidden in the hair, the steel collar on her throat. There is something vulnerable, sensuous and soft about a female slave. She was beautiful in her bondage.
"May a slave speak?" she asked.
"Yes," he said.
She looked up at him, his slave. "I know," she said; "that I am to be taken to Port Kar and will there be assiduously interrogated."
"Yes," he said.
"I will speak all I know," she said.
"That is true, Slave," he said.
"But then?" she begged. "What then, when I am emptied of information and can be of no further use to you in your strategies? What then will be done with me? Will I then be bound and thrown to the urts in your canals?"
"Perhaps," he said.
"Is there no hope for my life?" she asked.
"Yes," he said. "You are beautiful," he said to her, in explanation.
"I will try to be pleasing," she said. She pressed her lips to his thigh. She had been well conquered.
I had little doubt the beautiful Elicia, even when rendered valueless in the conflicts of worlds, would be kept for the pleasures of men; again I looked upon her; no longer was she a high agent of a mysterious power of interplanetary proportions; she was now only a lovely, bound Gorean slave girl.
"On your feet, Slave," said Bosk of Port Kar to Elicia.
She rose lightly to her feet.
In his hand he had the gag he would fix upon her before taking her to the roof.
"Please, Master," she begged. "A moment, please, Master."
He stepped back.
Elicia approached me, her hands tied behind her, the collar on her throat. "We are both now slaves," she said, "Judy."
"Yes," I said, "Elicia."
"The college seems far away now," she said.
"Yes," I smiled.
"I love you, Judy," she said, suddenly.
"I love you, too, Elicia," I said. I embraced her, holding her, her arms bound behind her. We kissed.
"I wish you well," she said, "Slave."
"I wish you well, too, Slave," I said.
Then, from behind, Bosk of Port Kar thrust the wadding in her mouth and secured it in place. She faced me, gagged.
Bosk of Port Kar then tied my wrists behind my back. He then gagged me, as he had Elicia. "Your throat," he said, "is for the collar of another." I could not question him, for I had been gagged. He then said to me, "Kneel," and I knelt. "Cross your ankles," he said. I did so. Then, with the loose end of the fiber which bound my wrists, he tied my crossed ankles together, fastening them, thus, to my wrists. Some six inches of strap separated my bound wrists and bound ankles. He then, not speaking further, freed the door of its control chain, slung his gear about his shoulder and, taking Elicia by the arm, conducted her through the portal. I heard them climbing the stairs to the roof.
I knelt alone on the tiles before the opened door. It was after midnight. I was a gagged and bound slave.
In time I heard steps approaching, climbing stairs to the level of the compartments.
My heart leaped. I knew the step.
Clitus Vitellius stepped into the threshold. He looked at me, troubled. I wanted to cry out my love for him, the helpless, vulnerable love of a female slave.
He looked down at me, angrily. I did not understand his anger.
He untied my ankles and I lay before him on the tiles. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him. I could not do so. I was gagged. Angrily he crouched down and, by an ankle, drew me to him, half under him. With his hands he thrust up the brief skirting I had been permitted as a female slave, and, ruthlessly, used me. I threw back my head, reveling in his touch. Swiftly he finished with me and, cutting a length from the loose end of the strap which bound my wrists, rebound my ankles. My wrists and ankles were no longer bound to one another. I looked at him. There were tears in my eyes. I loved him. I wanted to tell him of my love. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him. He did not remove the gag. He did not permit me to speak. He threw me to his shoulder and carried me from the compartments.
27
I Kneel In The Yellow Circle
I lay at his feet, like a pet she-sleen, he, Clitus Vitellius, in his compartments, sitting in a curule chair. His hands were on the arms of the curved chair. He stared moodily out the window, at the towers of Ar.
I rose to kneel before him. "Master," I said. I did not think I could dissuade him. I wore a brief street tunic, his collar.
I put my head upon his knee. I felt his hand in my hair. There was a tear in my eye.
"You trouble me," he said.
"I am sorry," I said, "if I have displeased you."
"I do not understand the feeling I have toward you," he said. He held my head between his hands, and looked down at me. "You are a mere slave," he said.
"Only your slave, Master," I said.
He thrust me from him, to the floor. I looked up at him.
"And you are of Earth," he said, "only a wench of Earth, collared and enslaved."
"Yes, Master," I said, softly.
He stood, angrily. He had, in the past days, treated me with great brutality.
"I fear you," he said, suddenly.
I was startled.
"I fear myself," he said, angrily. "I fear you, and myself," he said. He glared down at me.
I shrank back from him, for I was a slave.
"You make me weak," he said, angrily. "I am a warrior of Ar."
"A slave laughs at her master's weakness," I shouted, angrily.
"Fetch the whip!" he cried in fury.
I ran to the whip and brought it to him, kneeling before him, thrusting it into his hands. I looked up at him, angrily. His hand seized my tunic at the neck and shoulder and prepared to tear it from me, that I might be hurled to the floor at his feet, to be put writhing beneath the sharp discipline of his domination. His hand was on my tunic, the whip was uplifted. Then he released my tunic and threw the whip from him. He held my head between his hands. "Oh," he said, "you are an interesting and clever slave! That is one of the reasons you are so dangerous, Dina. You are so clever, so intelligent."
"Whip me," I begged.
"No," he said, angrily.
"Does Master care for Dina?" I asked.
"How could I, Clitus Vitellius, a captain of Ar, care for a slave?" he demanded.
"Forgive a girl, Master," I said.
"Should I free you?" he asked.
"No, Master," I said. "I could not then help myself. I would oppose my will to yours. I would strive against you."