Collar/Branding/Submission
quotes
"Do you wish to mark her?" asked Hassan, "Yes,"
I said. I would place the mark on her left thigh, above
that of the four bosk horns. It would be the
common Gorean female slave mark, fitting for a low girl, such
as she, one who had not been fully pleasing.
I held up the iron, white hot, for the girl's inspection.
"You will soon be
branded,Girl," I told her.
"Don't brand me!"
she cried. "Please dont'brand me!" She wept.
Hassan regarded her
with interest.
"We are now ready,"
I told her.
She looked at me,
then at the glowing, white-hot marking surface of the iron. She watched
it with horror, as it approached her.
I held it poised
at her thigh.
"Don't!" she cried.
"Dont't!"
"You are now to be
branded, Slave Girl," I told her. "No," she screamed. Then I branded her.
For five long Ihn I held the iron, Pressing
it in. I watched it sink in her thigh, smoking and crackling and hissing.
It was a larger brand than the at of the four bosk horns; I made sure it
marked her more deeply. We three, Hassan, I and the girl, smelled the marked,
bruned slave flesh of her. Then, swiftly, cleanly, I withdrew it. Her head
was back. She was screaming and weeping.
"A perfect brand," said Hassan. looking on.
"Perfect!" I was
pleased, Such a brand would be envied by other girls. It would improve
the sleek little
animal's value. I removed the locking device,
and spun loose the twist handles, releasing her thigh. I freed her of the
snap bracelets. I carried her, naked, branded, weeping, to the small cell
where I had thrown her tiny garment, to be retrieved later.I put her down
on the straw. Her throat was bare, for I had, the preceding night, the
collar of Ibn Saran removed from her throat.
"Assume the posture
of female submission," I told her. She did so, kneeling back on her heels,
her arms
extended, wrists crossed, her head between
them, down, She was weeping.
"Repeat after me,"
I told her, " 'I, once Miss Elizabeth Cardwell, of the planet Earth-'"
"I, once Miss Elizabeth
Cardwell of the planet Earth" she said.
"herewith submit
myself, completely and totally, in all things"
"herewith submit
myself, completely and totally, in all things" she said.
"to him who is now
known here as Hakim of Tor"
"to him who is now
knwonw here a Hakim of Tor" she said.
"his girl, his slave,
an article of his property, his to do with as he pleases"
"his girl, his slave,
an article of his property, his to do with as he pleases" she said.
Hassan handed me
the collar, It was inscribed 'I am the property of Hakim of Tor'.
I showed it to the girl. She could not read
Taharic script. I read it to her. I put it about her neck. I snapped it
shut.
"'I am yours, Master"
I said to the girl.
She looked up at
me, tears in her eyes, her neck in my locked collar.
"I am yours, Master," she said.
"Congratulations
on your slave" said Hassan. "She is lovely meat. Now I must attend to my
own slave."
He laughed, and left.
The girl sank to
the straw and looked up at me. Her eyes were soft with tears.
She whispered. "I am yours now, Tarl." she
said. "You own me, Your truly own me."
"What is your name?"
I asked.
"What ever master
wishes." she whispered.
I was led through the camp, and, here and
there, some men and slave girls followed me.
I came to a clearing, before the tent of Rask
of Treve. He was waiting there. On my tether I was led before him. I looked
at him, frightened. We stood facing one another, I about five feet from
him.
"Remove her tether" he said.
Ena, who had accompanied me, unknotted the
rope, and handed it to one of the girls.
I wore the long, scarlet garment, hooded,
sleevless. My hands were bound behind my back with binding fiber.
"Remove her bonds," said Rask of Treve.
In his belt I saw that he had thrust an eighteen-inch
strip of binding fiber. It was not jeweled. It was about three quarters
of an inch in thickness, it was of flat, supple leather, plain and brown,
of the sort commonly used by tarnsmen for binding female prisoners.
Ena untied my wrists.
Rask and I regarded one another.
He approached me.
With one hand he brushed back my hood, revealing
my head and hair. I stood very straight.
Carefully, one by one, he removed the four
pins, handing them to one of the girls at the side.
My hair fell about my shoulders, and he smoothed
it over my back.
One of the girls, she with the purple horn
comb, combed the hair, arranging it.
"She is pretty," said one of the girls in
the crowd.
Rask of Treve now stood some ten feet from
me. He regarded me.
"Remove her garment," he said.
Ena and one of the girls from the tent parted
the garment and let it fall about my ankles. Two or three of the girls
in the crowd breathed their pleasure.
Some of the warriors smote their shields with
the blades of their spears.
"Step before me naked," said Rask of Treve.
I did so.
We faced one another, not speaking, he with
his blade, and in his leather, I with nothing, stripped at his command.
"Submit," he said.
I could not disobey him.
I fell to my knees before him, resting back
on my heels, extending my arms to him, wrists crossed, as though for binding,
my head lowered, between my arms.
I spoke in a clear voice. "I, Miss Elinor
Brinton, of New York City, to the Warrior, Rask, of the High City of Treve,
herewith submit myself as a slave girl. At his hands I accept my life and
my name, declaring myself his to do with as he pleases."
Suddenly I felt my wrists lashed swiftly,
rudely, together. I drew back my wrists in fear. They were already bound!
They were bound with incredible tightness. I had been bound by a tarnsman.
I looked up at him in fear. I saw him take
an object from a warrior at his side. It was an opened, steel slave collar.
He held it before me.
"Read the collar," said Rask of Treve.
"I cannot" I whispered. "I cannot read."
"She is illiterate," said Ena.
"Ignorant barbarian" I heard more than one
girl laugh.
I felt so ashamed. I regarded the engraving
on the collar, tiny, in neat, cursive script. I could not read it.
"Read it to her," said Rask of Treve to Ena.
"It says" said Ena, "I am the property of
Rask of Treve."
I said nothing.
"Do you understand?" asked Ena.
"Yes," I said. "Yes!"
Now, with his two hands, he held the collar
about my neck, but he did not yet close it. I was looking up at him. My
throat was encircled by the collar, he holding it, but the collar
was not yet shut. My eyes met his. His eyes were fierce, amused, mine were
frightened. My eyes pleaded for mercy. I would receive none. The collar
snapped shut. There was a shout of pleasure from the men and girls about.
I heard hands stricking the left shoulder in Gorean applause. Among the
warriors, the flat of the sword blades and the blades of spears rang on
shields. I closed my eyes, shuddering.
I opened my eyes. I could not hold up my head.
I saw before me the dirt, and the sandals of Rask of Treve.
Then I remembered that I must speak one more
line. I lifted my head, tears in my eyes.
"I am yours, Master," I said.
He lifted me to my feet, one hand on each
of my arms. My wrists were bound before my body. I wore his collar. He
put his head to the left side of my face, and then to the right.
He inhaled the perfume. Then he stood there, holding me. I looked up at
him. Inadvertently my lips parted and I, standing on my toes, lifted my
head, that I might delicately touch with my lips those of my master. But
he did not bend to meet my lips. His arms held me from him.
"Put her in a work tunic," he said, "and send
her to the shed."
Captive of Gor, pg. 282-284
"This rope collar is rough and coarse," said
Ladletender, fingering the rope collar.
"Would you not like a smooth steel collar,one
slender and gleaming, or perhaps ornamented and cunningly wrought, or enameled,
perhaps to match your eyes and hair, one designed in color and workmanship
to enhance your style of beauty, one perhaps measured or custom-fitted
to the beauty of your own slave throat?"
"Whatever pleases Master," I said.
I knew that a steel collar did immeasurably
enhance the beauty of a girl. I had much envied Eta her collar, though
it had been plain. I had seen few collars on Gor, but I had learned from
Eta that there was great variety among them. They ranged from simple bands
of iron, hammered about a girl's throat, her head held down on an anvil,
to
bejeweled, wondrously wrought, close-locking circlets befitting the preferred
slave of a Ubar; such collars, whether worn by a kitchen slave or the prize
beauty of a Ubar, had two things in common; they cannot be removed by the
girl and they mark her as slave. In the matter of collars, as in all things,
Goreans commonly exhibit good taste and aesthetic sense. Indeed, good taste
moniously manifested, in such areas as language, architecture,dress, culture
and customs, seem innately Gorean. It
is a civilization informed by beauty, from the tanning and cut of a workman's
sandal to the glazings intermixed and fused, sensitive to light and shadow,
and the time of day, which
characterize the lofty towers of her beautiful
cities. The same attention of course, which the Gorean bestows upon his
own life and world, is naturally bestowed upon his slave girls. They too
must be perfect. Just as, in our world it is not uncommon to seek the advice
of an interior decorator in obtaining and organizing the appointments of
one's own dwelling, so, too, in the Gorean world, it is not uncommon to
call in a trainer and beautician to appraise and improve a girl. He considers
such matters as her hair, its cut, cosmetics appropriate to her, the proper
type of earrings, a variety of collars and slave silks, how she walks,
and speaks and kneels and so one, and makes his recommendations. Commonly
he finds an apparently plain slave, discovers her latencies, and leaves
a beauty. An apparently plain girl is a challenge to such a man. They are
said to be able to work wonders. They are often employed in slave pens.
A common challenge to them is to take an apparently plain free woman, recently
enslaved, and transform her into a ravishing, imbonded beauty. Half the
work, however, some say, is done by the collar, Some say the collar
releases the beauty in a woman.
Perhaps it is true, I had worn only a rope
collar, but yet it seemed to me that it, even in its coarseness, made me
more beautiful, more exciting. When Thrunus had tied it on my throat he
had shown it to me in one of Melina's mirrors. I had almost fainted at
the sight of it, so exciting it had made me appear, so sexually charge
it had made me. Seeing my state, he had used me immediately, and I had,
my whole body, helplessly, to my amazement, responded instantly to him.
He had collared me, I dared not dream what my responsiveness would have
been had the collar been not of rope, which I might cut or untie, but of
true steel, in which I would be helplessly locked. In s sense I both desired
and feared a true collar. Collared, how could I resist any man?
Slave Girl of Gor page 215
