Gor - Witness Of Gor Part 8

I was regarded then, as such men regard one such as I.

"Disrobe," he said.

My hand moved to the loop at my left shoulder, and I drew upon the loop, and, in a moment, stepped from the silk.

He gestured to the gra.s.s, permissively.

I sat back, on the gra.s.s, leaning back, on the palms of my hands.

In this fas.h.i.+on one's hands are rather behind one, and rather held in place, by one's own weight.

This position is one we are taught. In it, as is clear to us, we are more vulnerable.

He crouched beside me.

I was frightened.

I looked behind me, and upward, to the wall. I feared that I might see the back of a guard there.

Although where we were was hidden from the house, by the shrubbery, it would have been an ill-disguised location for an a.s.signation in the garden, being easily visible, as most parts of the garden are, from the wall. To be sure, the guards were supposed to keep their eyes away, unless suspicions were legitimately aroused, from the interior of the garden. Indeed, at certain times, they were not even allowed on the wall. This was, however, the rest period. They might well be on the wall now. Too, we had sometimes seen them observing us, and not merely when it was time for us to swim, or bathe, in the pool, or to try on silks, or for some of us to learn dances, but even when we might be taking our exercise, strolling in the garden, before the one who was first amongst us, though we pretended not to notice. It is interesting how our behavior changes, and so remarkably, when we find ourselves under the eyes of a man. It is as though we must suddenly become more beautiful. I think this is true even of women quite other than we. I think that they, too, thusly, in their hearts, know to whom they belong.

"You are frightened," he said.

I looked at him.

He put his fingers gently over my lips. "You are not going to cry out, are you?" he asked.

I regarded him, in terror.

He lifted my right foot a little up from the gra.s.s, a few inches, with his left hand. My ankle was helpless in his grasp. He rubbed his index finger across the ball of the foot and then, his finger bright with a spot of blood, placed it to my lips. I tasted the tiny bit of blood. My foot was cut, of course, from the sharp stones. I had exercised too little caution in fleeing from the wall.

He then did know, of course, that I had been at the wall. Indeed, he had doubtless, perhaps to his amus.e.m.e.nt, seen me there. What power in the garden did this give him over me! But who such as he needed any further power over one such as I? Did not, if not he, then his kind, already possess absolute power over one such as I!

"You are not going to cry out, are you?" he asked.

I moved my head, wildly, not so much in negativity, as in helplessness, and frustration.

"I am known in the house," he a.s.sured me.

But that did not ent.i.tle him, surely, to enter the garden! To be with one of us, as he was!

"Very well," he said. He reached down, beside me, to my discarded silk, and folded it several times. It was so light that even with several folds, it was not bulky.

These layers of silk, folded neatly into a flat rectangle, he thrust crosswise in my mouth. Partly now they were back, between my teeth, my teeth closed on them, and partly, in front, those folds, they protruded from my mouth. I could feel them, between my lips. They extended an inch or so beyond my lips.

"You may recline," he informed me.

I lay back, terrified.

Did he not know this was the garden? Did he not understand the danger? "It is said," he remarked, "that one such as you might be hot."

Why had he phrased that in such a fas.h.i.+on? Those such as I might well be "hot" That was not unusual.

Indeed, we had better be, if we knew what was good for us!

If we were not sufficiently hot, or sufficiently pleasing, we could expect to be whipped, or worse! We were not the sort of women who could use our favors, or the coolness of our responses, to achieve our own ends. Those weapons, if weapons they were, were no longer at our disposal. We had been disarmed. If wars were involved here, women such as I had clearly lost them. We had been defeated, utterly. We were now the helpless, obedient conquests of men.

But, more importantly, we were, it seems, women like us, selected with various parameters in mind, such as intelligence, beauty, and heat. Then, too, we were placed in a situation where reservations, qualifications, inhibitions, compromises, and such, were simply not permitted. And our natural heats, which are in all of us, were brought forth, and encouraged, and even trained. They were fanned into flame, until see found ourselves their victims and prisoners, frequently, helplessly, profoundly, periodically, recurrently dependent upon men for their quenching. And in this place I had been muchly kept from satisfaction. I had often begged to be put forth for use, to lie chained between the tables for the use of guests, to be fastened even to a bench in the garden, my use a gratuity for those who worked there, or to be sent, gratefully, ecstatically, backbraceleted, a sheet over me, to the quarters of guards, but the one who was first amongst us, who seemed to hate me, for no reason I could understand, had, almost invariably, to my pain and my misery, to my suffering, denied me these things.

I looked back, wildly, frightened, to the height of the wall, above and behind me. I feared a guard might make his rounds, that he might see!

Then he who was with me touched me, gently.

I reared half up, helplessly, a wild cry stifled by the wet silk I clenched between my teeth. He placed his hand over my mouth, Then he removed it. I had been unable to help myself. I looked up at him, piteously, tears in my eyes. I lay back, but whimpered, pleadingly. I lifted my body to him, beggingly. I looked wildly up at him, half in astonishment, half in supplication.

He seemed pleased. "Yes," he said, rather as he had when he had noted the lovely mark incised on my thigh. It would not come off, of course. It had been put there, in me, over a period of a few seconds, with a white-hot iron.

I tried, helplessly, to press my body against his hand.

What cared I now for my questions, what mattered it if I understood him or not, if I fathomed his presence here, or what he wanted, or even if his interest in me might, frighteningly, be more than that of one such as he who had, in a garden, encountered one such as I.

I whimpered piteously, begging him, looking up at him, my teeth clenched on the silk, my body lifted.

I writhed, touched.

Again I lifted my body, begging.

But I was not touched. Tears welled in my eyes. Surely I was not to be tortured!

I whimpered, pleadingly.

I knew what could be done with me. He must not torture me! He must not torture me!

I looked up at him. All was in his hands.

I sobbed gratefully, entered.

I clutched him. On my left ankle were golden bangles. On my left upper arm, there was a golden armlet.

On my right wrist were two narrow golden bracelets. They made a tiny sound as I clutched him.

I did not think he would take long with me.

Surely he would know the dangers of the garden.

I clutched him. I held to him, fiercely, with all my small strength.

He would be soon done with me.

I was only a girl in a garden.

I held to him, fiercely.

I wanted to savor every sensation, every feeling, every tiny movement.

I was grateful, such as I was, for whatever crumbs might be thrown to me.

I looked at him, pleadingly, over the sopped gag in my mouth.

My eyes begged him not to stop.

I wanted more, more! I could not help myself!

Then I suddenly feared he might cry out. Sometimes such men, in their joy, in their ecstasy, roar like beasts! His cry might bring down the guards upon us!

I looked at him, frightened, my teeth clenched on the silk. He must not cry out!

I shook my head, wildly.

But he paid me no heed. His eyes were fierce. I might have been nothing in his grip!

Then I began to feel my own helplessness.

I knew that I was but a moment from being again conquered.

How piteously I looked up at him, and how well, I am sure, he read my helplessness.

He paused.

I tried not to move.

I tried not to feel.

I looked at him.

He must not tell that I was near the wall! He must not tell that I was near the wall!

I had been quiet and obedient.

I had not cried out.

I had not called for guards.

Was I not pleasing him? He must not tell that I had been by the wall!

What more could I do? He must be quiet.

He must not make noise.

This place was not safe.

How long had we lain together? Did he not know that we could be seen from the wall? I feared that guards might see!

The rest period must be nearly over.

Others will be coming into the garden.

What if the one who was first amongst us should come to the garden? What if we should be discovered?

But it was the helplessness which precedes the yielding.

All was in his hands.

I moaned.

I looked up at him.

He had brought me to the point where he could do with me what he wanted.

I was now his.

How it must amuse them, and please them, I thought, to have such power over us! But I clung to him in my helplessness. He could do with me what he wished.

All was in his hands.

Oh, let him be merciful! Let him be merciful!

How they can wring from us our surrender!

Let him be kind! Oh, please, be kind! Please be kind!

He looked down at me, I fastened in his arms.

With my eyes I begged him, piteously.

I wondered suddenly if he had come to steal me, or one like me. To pluck a flower, to seize, and make away with, a luscious fruit of the garden? But such things are almost impossible to do. To be sure, sometimes a flower would disappear, but then so, too, usually, would have a guard, or member of the staff. That was dangerous, but possible. But he was not of the house, or of the staff, or the guards, I was sure of that. How, thusly, without the knowledge of the house, without the keys, the pa.s.swords, perhaps even friends within, could he hope to get me over the wall, or through the gate, past the guards? How could he even hope to ascend the wall himself, with the incurved knives at the summit? But he had said he was known in the house.

Could that be true? If that were so, then I supposed that he might, quite unlike one such as I, simply take his leave. Perhaps, waiting, he had wandered into the garden, to pa.s.s the time. He might then have seen me by the wall, and, perhaps taken with my beauty, as some men were, decided, on a whim, to accost and enjoy me.

How hateful he was!

But now I was his.

Helplessly!

He had brought me to this point.

He could now do with me what he wanted.