“Yes,” said one of the fellows.
She shuddered. Was it with cold? Or was it because she had suddenly sensed, however fearfully, or curiously, or eagerly, the long-suspected latencies of her lovely belly?
“Soon enough,” said another fellow, “they will all heat quickly.”
I nodded. I did not doubt it.
“Some of these are new to the collar,” I said, “not even branded. Where did you get them?”
“These are all of Ar,” said one of the men. “The three who went immediately to position were taken from a paga tavern, which had purchased them, after their consignment to the collar by the judgment of Talena, then Ubara.”
I recalled that several women had been brought publicly, on various days, before the judgment of Talena, in her open-air court on the platform near the Central Cylinder. I supposed that she had been given quotas to fill by her superiors, largely under the pretext of reparations due the invaders, these because of the misdeeds of Ar, but how she filled the quotas might, I supposed, be muchly up to her. It did provide her with a convenient opportunity for evening a variety of scores and such, particularly with free women who might have found her diminishment in Ar, and her sequestration, a matter of some satisfaction or amusement. I recalled she had designated Claudia Tentia Hinrabia, who had been the daughter of a former administrator of Ar, Minus Tentius Hinrabius, for the collar. Claudia, a rival and critic of Talena, was the last of the Hinrabians. She was also a rival in beauty to the Ubara. These other women, however, I had not seen. They were new to me.
“When the fighting began, and it became clear how desperate it was,” said a fellow, “and how the city would be lost to us, we sought, in a brief surcease of battle, to sack up what coin we might, and other valuables, and prepared to fight our way toward the pomerium.”
“That is when we entered a paga tavern, the Kef, to gather in, and take with us, some recollected items of flesh loot,” said a man. He pointed, one by one, to the three women with brands, who had instantly gone to position, obedient to my command.”
I nodded. These were the women taken from a paga tavern. Perhaps once they had been free women of Glorious Ar but they were now marked-thigh girls, slaves.
All were quite attractive.
But that was not unusual with Gorean slaves.
The “Kef,” incidentally, is the first letter of the Gorean expression, ‘Kajira‘, which is the most common Gorean word for a female slave. More than one paga tavern is so designated, though not on the same street. There might be, say, a “Kef” on Teiban, another on Venaticus, another on Emerald, and so on. The small, cursive “Kef” is also the most common brand on Gor for a female slave. Each of the three slaves bore it, on the left thigh, high, under the hip.
“They came with us, willingly,” said a fellow.
“Quite willingly,” laughed another.
“Of course,” I said.
Those unfamiliar with the ways of Gor might suppose that a foregone consequence of the liberation of a city would be the freeing of certain slaves, say, those of the city who had been impressed into bondage. That is not, however, how the Gorean sees such things. Many Goreans are fatalists and believe that any woman who falls into bondage belongs in bondage, even that it is the will of Priest-Kings that her throat should be enclosed in the lovely circlet of servitude. Most, however, understand that when a woman has worn the collar, it is quite likely that she, in her heart, even if freed, will always wear the collar. She will need a master, and long for one. She understands herself as something which, ideally, belongs wholly to a man. In her heart, and her belly, she will always treasure the collar. The vanities and inanities of the free woman, with her hypocrisies and pretensions, will no longer satisfy her. She will always remember what it was, to kneel, to be bound, and to love. She will always remember the wholeness and beauty of her life as a slave, and the raptures of the collar. She has been, as it is said, “spoiled for freedom.” Too, Gorean honor enters into these things. That, say, a daughter should fall slave, is taken not so much as a lamentable tragedy, as it might be in some cultures, as an intolerable affront to a family’s honor. Goreans, after all, are well aware of the many remarkable and fulfilling aspects of female bondage, for they may own slaves of their own. They have little doubt that the embonded daughter will well serve her master. Indeed, she had better do so. But she is then an animal and regarded as lost, and well lost, to her family and Home Stone. Tarsks, verr, kaiila, and such, of course, do not have Home Stones. Thus, the family puts the thought of her aside, for she is now a slave. And, of course, to assuage the family’s honor she will be left a slave. To be sure, a woman of a city found enslaved within the city is commonly sold out of the city. Slavers, for example, will seldom sell a woman in what was once her own city. I was not surprised then that the three paga slaves, former free women of Ar, would accompany the mercenaries willingly, even eagerly. It would be far preferable to being pilloried naked, subjected to the blows and abuse of irate citizens, being publicly, ceremoniously, whipped, and then being transported out of the city, naked, standing, wrists lashed to an overhead bar, on a flat-bedded, public slave wagon, to the jeers of free citizens. In such a way, it is supposed, might be wiped away the dishonor which her bondage had inflicted on the city, at least to some extent.
“You knew these women?” I asked.
“They frequently brought us paga,” said a man.
“I see,” I said.
“We can rent them on leashes,” said a fellow. “They will bring good coin in the furs.”
“They are hot?” I said.
“A touch will make them beg,” said another fellow.
“Excellent,” I said.
I looked then to the other women.
“These others, too,” I said, “were then designated for the collar by Talena, then Ubara?”
“Not at all,” said a fellow. “These were confidantes, even cohorts, of the Ubara, women of high caste, rich, well-placed, favorers of the policies of the occupation, not only condoners but abettors of the predations of Tyros and Cos. Several became rich.”
“Collaborators?” I said.
“Precisely,” said a man.
“Several, in the fighting, learned they were on the proscription lists, copies of which were posted on the public boards,” said another.
“They knew themselves in frightful danger,” said another.
“They came to us and flung themselves to our feet, begging to be protected, to be permitted to accompany us in our flight.”
“We were in haste,” said a fellow, “as you may well suppose. Enemies were at hand, ransacking houses, scouring bridges, searching towers, closing in upon us. Our heads were at stake. We must seize what loot we could and flee for our lives.”
“‘Take us with you!’ they begged!”
“‘Remain behind, as befits your crimes,’ we told them.”
“‘No! Mercy!’ they cried.”
“‘Loathsome she-urts, detestable profiteers and traitresses,’ we cried, ‘remain behind, be hurled to eels, be cast amongst leech plants, be weighted and thrown into carnariums, view the city you betrayed from the height of high impaling stakes!’”
“‘No, please!’ they wept. ‘Show us mercy!’”
“‘What interest have we in free women?’ we asked.”
“‘In free women?’ they said, bewildered.”
“‘None,’ we informed them. We could hear the shouts of foes, nearing our hiding place.”
“We gathered what we could, which was little enough.”
“‘Take us with you!’ they wept. They were on their knees, their hands extended to us in piteous, frantic supplication.”