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. I am priceless! Until you are stripped and sold, I said. I would bring a high price! she said. I doubt it, I said. I am beautiful! she said. Perhaps, I said. It is hard to tell. Beware, she said, lest I be truly cruel to you, lest I truly torment you,lest I lower my veil and permit you to glimpse, ever so briefly, my beauty, abeauty which you will never possess, which you will never kiss or touch, abrief glimpse which you must then carry with you, recalled in frustration andagony, through the marsh! Could you not part your robes, as well, I asked, that I might be even moretormented? She stiffened again in anger, in fury. Your figure, at least, I said, from what I surmise, would be likely to lookquite well on a slave block. She made an angry noise.I saw that she wanted to lower her veil. Am I not to be permitted, I asked, to look upon the face of my enemy? I was silent. Doubtless we will never see one another again, she said. Doubtless, I said. Look then, she said, reaching to the pin at the left of her veil, on theface of your enemy! Like all women she was vain.She wished an assessment of her beauty.Slowly, gracefully, was the veil lowered.I looked upon her. A Yes, she said, eagerly. I am your enemy! m I not beautiful? shePage 64 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlchallenged. I shall now know you, I said, if ever we meet again. You tricked me, she said.I shrugged.I had wanted, too, to see her, of course.Too, I was sure she hadwanted me, a male, to look upon her.One of the things which many free womenresent about female slaves is that they are commonly denied the veil, that menmay look openly, as they please, upon them. I do not think we shall meet again, she said. Probably not, I said. Am I not beautiful? she asked. I do not know if you are beautiful, I said. You are pretty. Beautiful! she demanded. Your face is too hard, too tense, too cold, to be beauti-ful, I said. Beautiful! she insisted. If you were in a collar for a few weeks, I said, your face would soften,and become more sensitive, more delicate and feminine.Too, as you learnedservice, obedience and love, and the categoricality of your condition, andyour inal-terable helplessness within it, many changes would take place inyou, in your body, your face, your psychology, your dispositions, and such.Your entire self would become more loving, more sexual, more sensitive, moredelicate and femi-nine.You would find yourself, too, more relaxed, yet, too,more alive, more eager, more vital, such things connected, simply enough, withyour depth fulfillments as a woman. As a slave! she said. Yes, I said. That is what a woman is, most deeply, most lovingly, a slave. She shuddered. And then, I said, I think it possible that your face might be no longermerely pretty, but, flushed and radiant, tending to express in its way yourhappiness, your fulfill-ment, your truth, your awareness that you thenoccupied, and would continue to occupy, and helplessly, your proper place innature, very pretty. And then my price? she asked. There are many beautiful women on Gor, I said. And then my price! she insisted. For a superb, cuddly slut? I asked. My price! she demanded. Probably an average number of copper tarsks, I said. Guards! she cried, in fury, at the same time angrily lifting the corner ofher veil, fumbling withit, repinning it.Men had hurried to her side.She pointed to me. It istrue, she cried. He is a spy, a sleen of Cos.Too, he intends to spreadseditious rumors among the troops.Give him ten lashes, of suitable severity! It will be done, lady, said my keeper. Then see that he is gagged, thoroughly, she said. Yes, lady, said the keeper.Already a fellow was loosening one of the shackles.In a moment my hands weremanacled before my body. Kneel to the whip, said the keeper.I knelt, my head to the sand.In a moment I heard the hiss of the lash.Then it had fallen on me ten times.I was then pulled up, kneeling, and my hands were again fastened behind myback.The wadding of the gag was thrust in my mouth, deeply.It was thenfastened in place, the binding knotted behind the back of my neck, tightly,pain-fully.I was then flung to my belly in the sand, my ankles bound closelyto one stake, my neck-rope, considerably short-ened now, keeping my bodystretched, to another.There was some blood in the sand, near me. See that he is worked well, shesaid.Page 65 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html We shall, lady, my keeper assured her.She then, I think, withdrew.I lay in the sand, my head turned to the side.I heard two sting flies hum by, needle flies, as the men of Ar called them.It had been very hot in the marsh today.It had been oppressively hot,steamingly hot.I supposed the heat must have been hard for the Lady Ina, inher robes.Muchly she must have suffered in them.Such sacrifices must be madeby the fashionable and high born, however.Much more practical for the deltawould have been the skimpy garments of female slaves, the brief tunics, theshort, open-sided, exciting camisks, the scandalous ta-teeras, or slave rags,indeed, the many varieties of stimulating slave garments, sometimes merestrips and strings, garments deliberately revelatory of imbonded beauty.Howunfortunate, I thought, that Lady Ina had no serving slaves with her, toassist her in the intricacies of her toilet.She even had to brush her ownhair.In time my back hurt less.It had been very hot in the marsh today.I recalled the ankles of the Lady Ina, and her face.She had shown me herankles of her own will, and, I suspect, had desired to reveal to me, also, herface.I wondered if it were good that I had looked upon her ankles, her face.It is not like looking on the beauty of a female slave whom one may then, witha snap of the fingers, send to the furs. It was hot today, said a man. Yes, said another.Indeed, it had been.I had had an uneasy feeling in that heat, that quiet,oppressive, steaming heat.I had felt almost as if something lay brooding over the marsh, or within it,something dark, something physical, almost like a presence, somethingmenacing. What do you think of the Lady Ina? one fellow asked another. A she-sleen, said the other. But I would like to get my hands on her, said the first fellow. I, too, laughed the second.It occurred to me how much refuge women have in a civilized world, protectedby customs, by artifices, by con-ventions, by arrangements, by laws.Did theyunderstand, I wondered, the tenuousness of such things, their fragility, theirdependence on the will of men.Did they wondersome-times, I wondered, what might be their lot, or how they might fare, ifsuch things were swept away, if suddenly they no longer existed? Did theyunderstand that then they would as vulnerable as slaves? One wants acivilization, of course.Civilizations are desirable.One would wish to haveone.But then, again, there are many sorts of civilizations.Suppose an oldorder should collapse, or disintegrate, or be destroyed.What would be thenature of the new order?Surely it need not be built on the failed model of the old order.That was anexperiment which was tested, and found wanting.It was a mistake.It did notwork.What would the new order be like? Let us hope it would be a sounderorder, one, for once, fully in harmony with nature.What would the position ofwomen be in the new order, I wondered.Would women have a place in the neworder, I wondered.Certainly, I thought, a very secure place [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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. I am priceless! Until you are stripped and sold, I said. I would bring a high price! she said. I doubt it, I said. I am beautiful! she said. Perhaps, I said. It is hard to tell. Beware, she said, lest I be truly cruel to you, lest I truly torment you,lest I lower my veil and permit you to glimpse, ever so briefly, my beauty, abeauty which you will never possess, which you will never kiss or touch, abrief glimpse which you must then carry with you, recalled in frustration andagony, through the marsh! Could you not part your robes, as well, I asked, that I might be even moretormented? She stiffened again in anger, in fury. Your figure, at least, I said, from what I surmise, would be likely to lookquite well on a slave block. She made an angry noise.I saw that she wanted to lower her veil. Am I not to be permitted, I asked, to look upon the face of my enemy? I was silent. Doubtless we will never see one another again, she said. Doubtless, I said. Look then, she said, reaching to the pin at the left of her veil, on theface of your enemy! Like all women she was vain.She wished an assessment of her beauty.Slowly, gracefully, was the veil lowered.I looked upon her. A Yes, she said, eagerly. I am your enemy! m I not beautiful? shePage 64 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlchallenged. I shall now know you, I said, if ever we meet again. You tricked me, she said.I shrugged.I had wanted, too, to see her, of course.Too, I was sure she hadwanted me, a male, to look upon her.One of the things which many free womenresent about female slaves is that they are commonly denied the veil, that menmay look openly, as they please, upon them. I do not think we shall meet again, she said. Probably not, I said. Am I not beautiful? she asked. I do not know if you are beautiful, I said. You are pretty. Beautiful! she demanded. Your face is too hard, too tense, too cold, to be beauti-ful, I said. Beautiful! she insisted. If you were in a collar for a few weeks, I said, your face would soften,and become more sensitive, more delicate and feminine.Too, as you learnedservice, obedience and love, and the categoricality of your condition, andyour inal-terable helplessness within it, many changes would take place inyou, in your body, your face, your psychology, your dispositions, and such.Your entire self would become more loving, more sexual, more sensitive, moredelicate and femi-nine.You would find yourself, too, more relaxed, yet, too,more alive, more eager, more vital, such things connected, simply enough, withyour depth fulfillments as a woman. As a slave! she said. Yes, I said. That is what a woman is, most deeply, most lovingly, a slave. She shuddered. And then, I said, I think it possible that your face might be no longermerely pretty, but, flushed and radiant, tending to express in its way yourhappiness, your fulfill-ment, your truth, your awareness that you thenoccupied, and would continue to occupy, and helplessly, your proper place innature, very pretty. And then my price? she asked. There are many beautiful women on Gor, I said. And then my price! she insisted. For a superb, cuddly slut? I asked. My price! she demanded. Probably an average number of copper tarsks, I said. Guards! she cried, in fury, at the same time angrily lifting the corner ofher veil, fumbling withit, repinning it.Men had hurried to her side.She pointed to me. It istrue, she cried. He is a spy, a sleen of Cos.Too, he intends to spreadseditious rumors among the troops.Give him ten lashes, of suitable severity! It will be done, lady, said my keeper. Then see that he is gagged, thoroughly, she said. Yes, lady, said the keeper.Already a fellow was loosening one of the shackles.In a moment my hands weremanacled before my body. Kneel to the whip, said the keeper.I knelt, my head to the sand.In a moment I heard the hiss of the lash.Then it had fallen on me ten times.I was then pulled up, kneeling, and my hands were again fastened behind myback.The wadding of the gag was thrust in my mouth, deeply.It was thenfastened in place, the binding knotted behind the back of my neck, tightly,pain-fully.I was then flung to my belly in the sand, my ankles bound closelyto one stake, my neck-rope, considerably short-ened now, keeping my bodystretched, to another.There was some blood in the sand, near me. See that he is worked well, shesaid.Page 65 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html We shall, lady, my keeper assured her.She then, I think, withdrew.I lay in the sand, my head turned to the side.I heard two sting flies hum by, needle flies, as the men of Ar called them.It had been very hot in the marsh today.It had been oppressively hot,steamingly hot.I supposed the heat must have been hard for the Lady Ina, inher robes.Muchly she must have suffered in them.Such sacrifices must be madeby the fashionable and high born, however.Much more practical for the deltawould have been the skimpy garments of female slaves, the brief tunics, theshort, open-sided, exciting camisks, the scandalous ta-teeras, or slave rags,indeed, the many varieties of stimulating slave garments, sometimes merestrips and strings, garments deliberately revelatory of imbonded beauty.Howunfortunate, I thought, that Lady Ina had no serving slaves with her, toassist her in the intricacies of her toilet.She even had to brush her ownhair.In time my back hurt less.It had been very hot in the marsh today.I recalled the ankles of the Lady Ina, and her face.She had shown me herankles of her own will, and, I suspect, had desired to reveal to me, also, herface.I wondered if it were good that I had looked upon her ankles, her face.It is not like looking on the beauty of a female slave whom one may then, witha snap of the fingers, send to the furs. It was hot today, said a man. Yes, said another.Indeed, it had been.I had had an uneasy feeling in that heat, that quiet,oppressive, steaming heat.I had felt almost as if something lay brooding over the marsh, or within it,something dark, something physical, almost like a presence, somethingmenacing. What do you think of the Lady Ina? one fellow asked another. A she-sleen, said the other. But I would like to get my hands on her, said the first fellow. I, too, laughed the second.It occurred to me how much refuge women have in a civilized world, protectedby customs, by artifices, by con-ventions, by arrangements, by laws.Did theyunderstand, I wondered, the tenuousness of such things, their fragility, theirdependence on the will of men.Did they wondersome-times, I wondered, what might be their lot, or how they might fare, ifsuch things were swept away, if suddenly they no longer existed? Did theyunderstand that then they would as vulnerable as slaves? One wants acivilization, of course.Civilizations are desirable.One would wish to haveone.But then, again, there are many sorts of civilizations.Suppose an oldorder should collapse, or disintegrate, or be destroyed.What would be thenature of the new order?Surely it need not be built on the failed model of the old order.That was anexperiment which was tested, and found wanting.It was a mistake.It did notwork.What would the new order be like? Let us hope it would be a sounderorder, one, for once, fully in harmony with nature.What would the position ofwomen be in the new order, I wondered.Would women have a place in the neworder, I wondered.Certainly, I thought, a very secure place [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]