"The lies, the hypocrisies, the pretensions of pseudo-masculinity will not bepermitted to me on Gor, will they, Master?" she asked.
"Not in the least," I told her, "for you are a slave."
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Does this displease you?" I asked.
"No, Master," she said.
"Does it please you?" I asked.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Even the girl who does not have a female trainer," I said, "will often seek outmore experienced girls, to beg them for their intimate counsels and theirsecrets of love and beauty. Sometimes she purchases these by such tiny gifts, offood and such, as may be within her province, or by performing portions of theother's labors, and so on. Indeed, much of the chitchat of slave girls, in theirgatherings, has to do, in one way or another, with the pleasing of masters."
It is in our best interest to fulfill our duties well," she said.
"But the best trainers you will have," I said, "will be your particular masters,and yourself. There is a specific magic, so to speak, and chemistry, betweeneach master and each slave. Each master is different, and, so, too, deliciously,is each Slave. Each master will train his own girl according to his owninterests and tastes, and each girl, in the private and intimate context of theparticular master/slave relation, by means of her intelligence and imagination,owned, will train herself to be his special slave, specifically and personally."
"I understand, Master," she said.
"But, even given the uniqueness of each bondage relation," I said, "there arestill certain common denominators in all such relations, which must not be lostsight of, such as the legal status of the slave, that she is, ultimately, onlyan article of property, that she is liable to discipline and punishment, andthat she is totally subject to the will of the master."
"Yes, Master," she said.
"But beyond this," I said, "Beyond the concern with an individual master, youwill learn, more generally, how to be pleasing to men. You may be sold to astranger, or given to one, or fall into the hands of a stranger, or group ofstrangers. You may know little or nothing of your master, or masters, other thanthe fact that he holds total power over you, and he may know little or nothingof you, other than the fact that your lovely hide is marked with the brand ofthe female slave. You thus begin again, anew, your struggle to convince a masterthat there may be some point in keeping you about, that there may be some pointin putting a bit of gruel in a bowl, or hollowed stone, for you, or thrusting acrust of bread in your mouth. You attempt to convince him of this, of course,even though he is unknown to you, even though he is a total stranger to you, byserving him, and superbly, as a female slave. Do you understand what I amsaying?"
"Yes, Master," she said, "that I must learn, in general, how to be pleasing tomen."
"Yes," I said, "this any slave girl must learn, such things as the kisses, thetouches, the squirmings, the thousand submissions."
"Yes, Master," she whispered.
"But, do not fear," I said, "Such modalities are not learned in vain. They willbe required of you even by a love master, and, indeed, he will doubtless requirethem from you with a harshness, an amplitude and exactness far beyond that of amore casual owner."
"But, why, Master?" she asked.
"Because you are," I said, "in the final analysis, as he will wish you toremember, only his slave. Too, do you think he would require less from you, alove slave, than from some more common girl chained at his feet?"
"No, Master," she said.
"Are you silent?" I asked.
"It seems strange to think of serving a love master with the same proficiencieswith which I must serve any other man, as a mere slave," she said.
"Your skills and talents are surely as much, or more, at his disposal, as theyare at the disposal of any other male," I said.
"True," she said.
"Do you object?" I asked.
"No, Master," she said. "I would want to serve my love master, to the best of myability, with whatever skills or talents I might have."
"And he would see that you do so," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said. Suddenly she sobbed.
"What is wrong?" I asked.
"I am so frightened," she said. "This world terrifies me, and on it I am only anaked slave. I do not know what to do. I am afraid. I am so ignorant. I knownothing. I am so frightened. I am only a slave."
"You speak truly, ignorant slave," I said. Did she expect me to comfort her?
She turned her head to the side, and laid her left cheek on the blankets at myfeet. "Please put your foot on my neck, Master," she said.
"I did so, with just enough pressure that she could feel its weight, and that ofmy body.
"You could now," she said, "with one motion of your foot, kill me."
"Yes," I said.
"Please do not kill me, Master," she said. "Instead, take pity on me, I beg ofyou, and find me pleasing."
I took my foot from her neck. "I shall inspect you," I told her. "You may kneelbefore me."
Swiftly she rose from her stomach to kneel before me.
"Knees wide," I told her, "back on heels, stomach in, head high, hands onthighs, shoulders back, breasts thrust out."
I moved her hair back, behind her shoulders, and smoothed it out. It would not,thus, interfere with my view. I appraised her, slowly, carefully. "It is notimpossible," I told her, at length, "that a man might find you pleasing."
"Make me please you," she begged.
"Rather," I said, "I shall permit you to beg to please me, and as a slave."
"I beg to please you, Master," she said.
"As a slave?" I asked.
"Yes, Master," she said, "I beg to please you and as a slave."
"But you are untrained," I said, scornfully.
"Train me," she begged, tears in her eyes.
I regarded her, dispassionately.
"Train me, Master," she begged. "Train me, please, Master!"
"Take your hair from behind your left shoulder," I said, "and hold it before,and against, your lips. Part of the hair keep before your lips and against them.
Another part of the hair, the center strands, take back between your lips, sothat you can feel it on the soft interior surfaces of your lips. A portion ofthis same hair take then back against your teeth, and a portion of that back,between the teeth. Now purse your lips and, while remaining kneeling, rise fromyour heels, and lean forward, gently and submissively."
And thus began the training of a nameless slave on the plains of Gor.
In a few moments I thrust her back to the blankets.
"Do I train well, Master?" she asked.
"Yes," I said, "Pretty slave. You are an apt pupil, and you train well."
She snuggled against me.
"It is a tribute to your intelligence," I said.
"Thank you, Master," she said.
"And to your genetic predisposition to slavery," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
A woman's acquisition of slave arts follows a steep learning curve, far beyondwhat would be expected was the template, or readiness, for these arts notintrinsic to her nature. She learns them far too swiftly and well not to be, ineffect, a born slave.
"Oh!" she said, and then I again took her.
This time the slave squirmings of her, though inchoate and rudimentary, wereunmistakable.