"You may kiss my cup, Slave," said he. I pressed my lips to his cup, which he held in his hand. I was weak. I was a girl. I was at the mercy of men.
On the wall of the hut, behind Thurnus, hung the great bow, of supple Ka-la-na. It was tipped with notched bosk horn. It was now unstrung, but the string, of hemp, whipped with silk, lay ready, looped loose upon the broad, curved yellow wood. Near the bow hung a mighty quiver, in which nestled flight and sheaf arrows, and many of each thereof. Such a weapon I could not even bend. It required, too, not simply the strength of a man, but of a man who was unusually strong. Most men, no more than a woman, could use such a fearsome device. It was a common weapon among peasants. It is often called the peasant bow. The other common peasant weapon is the great staff, some six feet in length, some two inches in width. Two such staffs rested to one side, inclining upright against the wall, between a yellow box, about a foot high, and a roll of coarsely woven rep-cloth.
"And do not remove your lips from the cup," said Thurnus, "until given permission."
I kept my lips pressed to the cup, my head bent to the side. A Gorean slave girl dares not disobey.
"Thurnus," said his free companion, a large, heavy woman, in a rep-cloth veil, kneeling to one side. She was squat and heavy. She was not much pleased.
There was a kennel nearby, where Thurnus kept his girls. He did not tend his fields alone.
"Be quiet," said Thurnus, to her, "Woman."
To one side, against the wall of the hut, there rested, on a small table, a piece of plain, irregularly shaped rock, which Thurnus, years earlier, when first he had founded the farm, later to be the community, of Tabuk's Ford, had taken from his own fields. He had, one morning, years ago, bow upon his back and staff in hand, seed at his thigh, after months of wandering, come to a place which had pleased him. It lay in the basin of the Verl. He had been driven from his father's village, for his attendance upon a young free woman of the village. Her brother's arms and legs had he broken. The woman had followed him. She had become his companion. With him, too, had come two young men, and two other women, who saw in him, the young, raw-boned giant, the makings of a caste leader. Months had they wandered. Then, following Tabuk, in the basin of the Verl, he had come to a place which had pleased him. There the animals had forded the river. He had not followed them further. He had driven the yellow stake of claimancy into the dark soil, near the Verl, and had stood there, his weapons at hand, beside the stake, until the sun had reached the zenith and then, slowly, set. It was then he had reached to his feet and picked up the stone, from his own fields. It now rested in his hut. It was the Home Stone of Thurnus.
"Thurnus," said his companion.
He paid her no attention. It had been many years ago that she had followed him from the village of her father. It had all been many years ago. In the fashion of the peasants he kept her. She had grown slack and fat. She could no longer in honor return to the village of her brother.
I kept my lips pressed to Thurnus's cup. He drew the cup more closely to him. I must needs follow.
I knew he had girls he kept in a kennel.
Thurnus was a strong man, of the sort who must either have many women, or incredibly much from one woman. His companion, I supposed, was tio longer attractive to him, or, perhaps, in the prides of her freedom, was too remote to be much in his attention. It is easiest for a man to see a woman who is at his feet, begging to be seen.
"You are a pretty little slave," said Thurnus to me.
I could not speak, for my lips were pressed to his cup.
"What is her name?" asked Thurnus of my master.
"She does not have a name," he responded.
"Oh," said Thurnus. Then he said, "She is a pretty little thing." I felt his hand on my leg.
Angrily, Melina, who was the free companion of Thurnus of Tabuk's Ford, rose to her feet and left the hut.
I shuddered under the intimate touch of Thurnus. I could not withdraw from his caress for my lips must needs remain pressed to his cup.
"Perhaps we should give her a name," suggested Marla.
"Perhaps," said one of the lieutenants, looking at me.
"What do you think of Stupid Girl?" asked Marla.
The men laughed.
"Or Clumsy Girl!" she urged.
"Better," said one of the lieutenants.
How angry I was at Marla, and how jealous of her. She was a saucy slave. Had I so spoken, so freshly and without permission, I might have been whipped.
She was high slave.
"You are right," said my Master. "She is both stupid and clumsy, but she is growing in intelligence, and in beauty and grace."
I flushed with pleasure to hear him say this.
"Let us give her a name more suitable to a slave girl, who, one day, will perhaps be capable of pleasing men."
My lips remained pressed to Thurnus's cup. I could not withdraw from his caress. I began to become aroused. I was a slave. I could not help myself.
Thurnus laughed. He then, with his peasant's humor, suggested two names, both descriptive, both embarrassing.
My thighs moved. How furious I was! I was a slave. I could not help myself.
I was furious, too, at the laughter which greeted Thurnus's proposals. Yet I knew that if I were given either of those intimate, obscene names, I would have to wear it. They would simply be my name.
"Let us think further," chuckled my master. He was Clitus Vitellius, of the caste of warriors, of the city of Ar.
I began to move helplessly under the touch of Thurnus. I could not help myself. I was slave.
My master watched me. "There is something to be said of course," said he, "for the suggestions of Thurnus."
I moaned with misery.
"But I think," said he, smiling, "we may look further."
I tried to restrain myself, to keep from responding to the touch of Thurnus. I could not do so. I thought of Elicia Nevins, who had been my lovely beauty rival in the college on Earth. How amused the haughty Elicia would have been to see me now, a half naked slave girl, clad in the scandalous Ta-Teera, her lips pressed to a cup, responding so helplessly to a man's touch. How humiliated and embarrassed I was to even think of the proud, serene, contemptuous Elicia in my present predicament. How pleased I was that she could not see her old rival now.
Thurnus moved the cup a bit closer to him, maneuvering me into a yet more helpless position. My hands were clenched on the wrist that held the cup. I felt the cup with my teeth.
"Marla is a pretty name," said my Master. He looked at Marla, in his arms. "Do you not think Marla is a good name for a slave?"
"Oh, yes, Master," she whispered. "Marla is a superb name for a slave." She began to kiss him about the throat and chin.
"Perhaps I should call her 'Marla, " said he.
I knew that, in an instant, my name might be Marla. I shuddered.
"But we already have one Marla among our girls," smiled my Master, looking down into the beautiful, uplifted dark eyes of the lovely Marla.
"Yes, Master," she whispered.
I did not know what name I would wear.
"If the nameless slave interests you in the least," said my master to Thurnus, indicating me with his head, "you may, of course, do what you wish with her."
I shuddered, a slave girl on Gor.
"But," said Thurnus, laughing, "you have come to examine sleen."
My master shrugged. "That is true," he admitted.
"Let us then waste no more time sporting with slave girls," said Thurnus, "but turn our attention to more serious business." Thurnus looked at me. "You may remove your lips from the cup, Girl," he said.
I withdrew my lips from the cup. He removed his hand from my body, and stood up.
I knelt on the floor. My eyes were wide. My teeth were gritted. I wanted to scratch at the mats on the floor with my fingernails.
My master rose to his feet, and his lieutenants with him. Marla angrily, pouting, put her legs beneath her, and knelt. We were only girls. The men had business. There were more important things for them to attend to than us.