Smugglers of Gor - By John Norman Page 0,201

the belly of a slave, but, too, I would have been almost helpless before him, even had I been a free woman, on my former world, for he, so severe, virile, confident, and strong, was the most exciting and attractive man I had ever seen, and here I was before him not as a free woman, but, on this rich, green, savage, perilous, exotic world, his world, Gor, a slave.

And, to my fear, chagrin, and humiliation, given what had been done to me on this world, I found myself disturbed, considering what almost any man might now do to me, now that I was a slave, and not simply he for whose collar I longed with such excruciating desire. I did not doubt now but what I could not help responding, and as a slave, to the touch of almost any of these arrogant, conquering Gorean males. In setting slave fires in a woman’s belly they well know how to make her a slave.

“The wands, Master,” I said.

“The larls are in,” he said.

“Sometimes they are,” I said. I had depended on that, in my original flight.

“More likely our approach has been noted,” he said. “Surveillance may be intensified.”

“I am to be turned over to Pani?” I said.

“Of course,” he said.

“What is to be done with me?” I asked.

“You will learn,” he said.

“I returned to the wands before,” I said, “inadvertently.”

“Perhaps not so inadvertently,” he said.

“I do not understand,” I said.

“Look there,” he said, “through the trees.”

“The ship, the great ship!” I said.

“We are in time,” he said. “It has not yet left.”

It was hard to see through the leafage but, clearly, the great ship was still at its moorings.

“There is not much time,” he said.

“Master?” I said.

He pressed aside a branch, and pointed toward the dock. “See the high pole north of the dock, across from the stern of the ship.

“Yes, Master,” I said. I was sure that pole had not been there when I had been employed about the dock.

“At its height,” he said, “on its line, is the ready banner.”

He indicated a long, tapering, triangular swirl of bright scarlet silk. It could be seen from a great distance.

“Final preparations are being made,” he said. “When the banner is lowered, the moorings will be cast, and the voyage begun.”

“How long is it flown?” I asked.

“I had heard three days,” he said.

“But one or two days may have already passed,” I said.

“Yes,” he said. “We will learn.”

“Perhaps it will leave today,” I said.

“No,” he said. “It will leave in the early morning, to make the most of a day’s light.”

“Perhaps then tomorrow?” I said.

“Perhaps,” he said, letting the branch fall back into place. “I do not know.”

“Tal!” called a cheery voice.

“Axel!” said my captor.

“I see you have her,” said Axel. “Good! Doubtless, a barbarian, she was an easy catch. Come within the wands. We wish to loose the larls again.”

I felt the tug on my leash ring, and I stumbled after my captor.

Shortly thereafter we were within the perimeter of Shipcamp. There, near the wands, doubtless waiting, was an unusually lovely slave. She, as I, was dark-haired and dark-eyed. “Master!” she said, delightedly, and knelt quickly before my captor, kissed his feet, and lifted her head happily to him. “We feared for you!”

“What are you doing here?” asked my captor.

“I brought her,” said Axel.

“So you came, perforce?” asked my captor.

“Of course, Master,” she said, smiling. “What could I do? He is a free man.”

“So this is Asperiche?” I said.

“Yes,” said my captor, indicating with a gesture that Asperiche might rise.

“She is very lovely,” I said.

“So this is Laura?” said Asperiche.

“Yes,” said my captor.

“And she is very lovely,” said Axel.

“Oh?” said Asperiche.

“Certainly,” said Axel.

“I had expected her to be different,” she said.

“How so?” asked Axel.

“More beautiful,” said Asperiche.

I knew I was not the sort of girl who went for a handful of silver, or even a piece of gold.

Still I thought I was beautiful enough. Some men had seemed to think so. Surely I was popular in the slave house.

Asperiche regarded me. I straightened my body. She walked about a bit, partly behind me, and then, again, was before me. “But, yes, you are pretty, Laura,” she said. “And you look well, on a leash, braceleted.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“You are short of clothing,” she observed.

“Yes,” I said.

“I am tunicked,” she said.

“Rather briefly,” I said.

“My master enjoys exhibiting me,” she said. “I am the sort of slave masters enjoy showing off, the sort they relish displaying.”

“You have a beautiful figure and face,”

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