I felt a knotted, double strand of leather looped about my left wrist and pulled tight.
"Master," I said.
It was the fellow who had earlier opened the Kalmak and kissed me. I was not displeased to see him, nor to be on his thong.
"Come to the alcove," he said. I placed the tray I carried on a rack. The fight continued below. I was pulled by the leather thong on my left wrist toward an alcove in the wall of the level of the high balcony. There was shouting below. Several had now joined the fight. I heard the musicians begin to play, on Aurelion's orders, to attempt to pacify the crowd, to distract it. A dancer, I supposed, had been sent to the center of the floor. Usually such fights are stopped by the separation of the combatants and the awarding to each of a girl for the night. I supposed Lyrazina would be given to one, and an even more exquisite beauty to the other, thus contenting both. But if this strategy was to be successful, it did not seem to be yet successful. I heard glass break below.
"This one," said the man, indicating an alcove.
He released the thong on my wrist and stood behind me. I climbed the five steps into the alcove and crawled within.
It occurred to me that none had noted him conducting me to the alcove. All eyes had been on the fight below.
I crawled to the back of the alcove and, there, turned to face him, he whom I must now, as he chose, please.
He turned his back to me and, with the belts and buckles, closed the leather curtains on the alcove, that we might be closed within, and be undisturbed from the outside.
He gestured that I should remove my garments, and I did so, even to, reading his eyes, the red Koora on my head. He then gestured that I should crawl to him, and kneel, back on my heels, facing away from him. I did so. I felt my wrists, with binding fiber, tied behind my back.
"Master?" I asked.
"Do not face me," he said.
"Yes, Master," I said.
I sensed him remove, with a rustle of leather, an object from his tunic. Suddenly I felt the wadding of the gag of a slave hood thrust in my mouth and, with its straps, secured. It was done swiftly. I could utter no sound. I was gagged. Then the hood itself was pulled up and jerked down, over my head, and buckled under my chin. He threw me forward and I fell on the furs on my right shoulder. He tied together my ankles. I sensed him move aside some furs. Then I felt my body doubled up and my feet slipped inside the mouth of a slave sack. The sack was drawn up, over my body; I sat, doubled up; my head was pushed down a bit; the sack was drawn shut over my head and, with a snap, locked shut.
Then to my wonder I heard him open a door. It must have been behind the hanging at the rear of the alcove. I felt the sack being lifted through the opening, and then it was dragged along a wooden-floored passage; then he threw it lightly to his shoulder, and began to descend short flights of stairs.
I squirmed in the sack but was helpless. He was very strong.
19
I Bead A Necklace, And Am Then Used For Wench Sport
I was kneeling.
I felt hands untying the binding fiber on my ankles, and at my wrists.
The slave hood was unbuckled and pulled up, over and off my head. I could see! Its leather lay against my breasts, held by its attachments to the gag. The gag straps were loosened. A hand extracted the heavy wadding, letting it fall open, to dry. I almost vomited, freed of the gag. Then I put my head back, and breathed deeply. The hood and gag were then pulled away. One of the men put them, with the binding fiber, in his belt. Two other men crouched beside me. Two others stood nearby. The man on my left, in his two hands, took my left wrist; the man on my right, with his two hands, took my right wrist. They stood, throwing me upright to my feet, between them.
I was unclothed, save for the black, enameled, belied collar, and the black, enameled belled ankle ring, as I had been in the alcove of the Chatka and Curla. My face was red from the slave hood. My body was broken out from the moisture and heat of the slave sack.
I stood between the two men, their hands on my wrists. I was in a torchlit anteroom, of large size. A long rug, some forty yards in length, narrow, red, led toward a large pair of white doors, which opened from the center. Two guards, helmeted, with spears, stood at that door. There were shields and crossed spears on either side of the door.
I shrank back, looking at the tall doors.
I felt pressure on my wrists. "Come, Animal," said one of the men. "Yes, Master," I whispered.
By the wrists I was led toward the great door. I was very frightened, for I knew these must be the men associated with the Mistress, Lady Elicia of Ar. They thought that I bore a message for them, but I did not. They would be disappointed. They would be angry. Gorean males are not patient with displeasing slave girls. I did not wish to be disfigured or tortured, or slain. I was innocent! I would plead my innocence! Perhaps then I would be only whipped.
The doors were swung open by the helmeted guards. I was flung to my knees. "Kiss the floor, Slave," said one of the men.
I did so, my arms held high, straight behind me, thrusting me down. Then again, rudely, I was thrown to my feet and led into the room.
It was a lofty, beautiful room, as though in a palace. It was floored with purple, glossy tiles, broad and shining. There were slender, lofty white pillars, golden hangings. I was led toward a dais on which a large, corpulent man sat, one of enormous weight, reclining on cushions. He wore white robes, stained with wine, swollen with fat, bordered in laced gold. His face was heavy, coarse, pitted where whiskers, one by one, had been pulled from it by tweezers. He was balding, and wore upon his head a crown of grape leaves, from the famed Ta grapes of the terraces of Cos. I sensed in him intelligence, vanity, wealth, cruelty and power.
I saw that at the foot of the dais, before me, before where I now knelt, released by the men who had held me, there was a low table, and, on this table there were strands of thread and, in small cups, beads, wooden slave beads, beads of various colors, of many colors.
I looked down at the low, wooden table, the beads in the tiny cups. I trembled. It seemed I had knelt here before, or somewhere like this, in a dream which had once tormented me in Tabuk's Ford. I wondered if I had ever knelt in such a place as this before, or if it were merely the figment of a slave girl's dream. The dream had seemed real. I wondered if it were in some odd sense a recollection or anticipation. I dismissed such nonsense from my mind. But the similarity of this setting to that of the dream was uncanny and frightening.
A slave whip, by one of the nearby men, was lifted before me. I then was truly frightened, for this, too, had been in the dream.
"What is this?" I knew a voice would ask.
"What is this?" asked the man.
"A slave whip, Master," I said, knowing that I would.
"And what are you?" inquired the voice.
"A slave, Master," I said. I wanted to scream out to them that I knew nothing of their messages or whatever it was they might seek. I wanted to scream out to them that I was only a miserable slave, and knew nothing. I wanted only a bit of mercy from them.