| “Yes,” said Hurtha. “And such protection extends to you, of course, only in so far as you are a free woman.”
Mercenaries of Gor Book 21 Page 75 She looked at it. I took her by the arm and conducted her to where Tula knelt, her head to the dirt. “This is a free woman,” I told Tula. “She will be traveling with us.” Tula, scarcely lifting her head, pressed her lips to the sandals of Boabissia, kissing them. “Mistress,” she said. I then conducted Boabissia to the vicinity of Feiqa. Feiqa had once been the Lady Charlotte, of Samnium, a high lady in that city, one of aristocratic birth and upbringing, from one of her finest families, one prominent on her Street of Coins. Feiqa pressed her lips to the sandals of Boabissia, kissing them. “Mistress,” she whispered. “What?” inquired Boabissia, imperiously. Feiqa again pressed her lips to Boabissia’s sandals, kissing them. “Mistress,” she said, trembling. “These slaves,” I said to Boabissia, “as you are a free woman, are at your disposal. On the other hand, you do not own them. Accordingly you are not to mutilate them or cause them permanent or serious injury unless they prove themselves to be, in some small way, at least, disobedient or displeasing.” “I understand,” said Boabissia. “Even then,” I said, “it will be expected that you would first obtain the permission of their master.” “That is a common courtesy,” said Boabissia. “You may count, of course,” I said, “on his understanding and sympathy, and his respect for your wishes, as those of a free woman.” “Of course,” said Boabissia. “In lesser matters, of course,” I said, “where lesser exactitudes and punishments might be in order, you may, as any free person, at your whim, and without consulting the master, subject them to typical disciplines, things useful in helping them to keep in mind what they are.” “I understand,” said Boabissia. The slaves trembled. She was a free woman. The slave has some defense against a vital powerful male, female submission behaviors, indeed, the piteous and desperate prostration of her beauty and service at the feet of his authority and lust. This defense, however, minimal and uncertain as it may be, seldom avails her against the displeasure of the hostile free female. Mercenaries of Gor Book 21 Page 76 - 77 “Put that slut back, behind the wagon,” said Boabissia, “where she, like the animal she is, led, may follow with the other.” “Please?” I asked. “Yes, please,” said Boabissia, angrily. “Very well,” I said. I decided I would do this, at least this time, in deference to the wishes of Boabissia. She was after all, a free woman. Mercenaries of Gor Book 21 Page 78 “I am not a slave!” she said, weeping, struggling. “I am a free woman! I do not have sexual needs!” “Perhaps not,” I said. To be sure, it was difficult, and probably fruitless, to argue with a free woman about such matters. Too, I might have misread what seemed to be numerous and obvious signs of need in her. Perhaps free women neither needed nor wanted sexual experience. That, I supposed, was their business. On the other hand, if they did not want or need sex, the transformation between the free woman and the slave becomes difficult to understand. To be sure, perhaps it is merely the collar, and the uncompromising male domination, which so unlocks, and calls forth, the passion, service and love of a female. “What are you doing?” she asked, weeping. “Doubtless men will be here soon,” I said. “What are you doing?” she wept. I put the opaque sack over her head and tied it, with its own strings, under her chin, close about her neck, rather like a slave hood. “This will make it easier for you,” I said. “I am veiling you. Too, this will enable you, by shutting out certain extraneous factors, to concentrate more closely on the exact nature of your sensations.” “Release me!” she wept. “No,” I said. I heard a fellow near me. I looked about. “She is certified free?” he asked. “Yes,” I said. “Examine her.” He thrust Boabissia’s dress up, high, over her breasts. He examined her thighs, and the usual brand sites on a Gorean female slave. “How much?” he asked. “She is only a free woman,” I said. I put a copper bowl on the ground, beside her, at her left. “She is not trained. Only a tarsk bit.” It was the smallest, least significant Gorean coin, at least in common circulation. “In advance,” I said. Men are commonly disappointed in free women, and almost certainly if they have experienced the alternative. They are not slaves, trained in the giving of pleasure to men. Some free women believe that their role in lovemaking consists primarily in lying down. Should they become slaves the whip soon teaches them differently. “Of course,” he said. The coin rattled into the copper bowl. “No!” wept Boabissia. She clenched her ankles tightly together. Then her ankles, one in each hand of the fellow, were parted. Mercenaries of Gor Book 21 Page 120 - 121 Page33 |