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.Iwondered if Teibar knew I would be sold in this place.He wasdoubtless privy to the records of the house.But he may have lefttheir service before I was consigned to the wholesaler130 outside Brundisium.But it could be this was a common clearingpoint for their slaves.It could be, too, he had retained contacts withthe house.He might very well know I was here.He may have even,for his amusement, arranged that it would be here, or in a similaroutlet, that I was sold, influencing the orders in some fashion.Perhaps that I was here, naked in a sales barn, my wrists manacledover my head, being bid upon by strangers, was part of hisvengeance on me.At the least he would have known that this, orsomething similar, would be done to me! How amused he must be,when he thought of such things, his haughty, pretentious modernwoman. as he thought, she whom he held in such contempt, to herdismay and terror, and miscry, now being sold naked from a slaveblock, into absolute bondage!Then I became aware of someone, or one or two men, actually,calling up from the floor.It was not bids they were calling.I tried tounderstand them.I did not know if it were their accents, or I simply,in my confusion, my misery and distress, had suddenly lost almostall my command of Gorean.I could not really understand them.The chain slackened above me and my arms fell, somewhat.Theauctioneer put his whip on his belt, held me by the left arm in hisright hand, and, with his left hand, reaching up, lifted the chainbetween my manacles off the lower hook of the short chain, thatattached to the strand of the double chain overhead.His hand on myarm kept me from collapsing to the sawdust.My hands were down,the chain on the manacles now against my thighs.He saidsomething to me, but I did not understand it.Then he reached infront of me and gathered the chain between my manacles into hishands and lifted my wrists up, bending my arms back.He put mywrists back, behind my head, and then released the chain on themanacles, letting it drop behind my neck. Clasp your hands behindthe back of your head, he said.I understood him now. Bendback, he said. Display yourself. I obeyed, of course.Too, thewhip was now again in his hand. Flex your knees, he said. Now,turn, he said. Do not forget our friends to the right, he said.I thendisplayed myself, again, identically, at the right side of the block.Idid not think the other girls had been removed from the chain, or notmany of them, given the speed with which the line had moved.Whyshould I be favored in this respect? The bidding had beeninterrupted at eighty-eight tarsks, whatever that meant.I did knowthat there was apparently something about me, perhapsunfortunately, which many Gorean men found of interest.131 I do not thing this was simply a matter of figure and face, though Ithink these appealed to a Gorean taste, but perhaps something else,something deeper, which they seemed to sense about me, some sortof possibility, or potentially, or something which I myself did notfully understand, or yet understand.Sometimes he touched me withthe whip, calling attention to a curve or flank.Teibar s modernwoman, I thought, is now displaying herself naked to Goreanbuyers.He then had me kneel and bent me back, painfully, my hairback to the sawdust, to the center, and then the left, and then theright, before the buyers.He then had me straighten up and unclaspmy hands from behind my head.He then lifted the chain forward,over my head.It then hung, between my wrists, a little below myneck.He let me lower my hands.My hands then, and the chain,were again on my thighs.My hands chained as they were, I couldnot both keep them on my thighs and maintain a full, open-kneelposition.I looked up at him, from the sawdust.Men were calling out, from behind the railing, and some from thetiers.To my surprise the auctioneer removed a key from his belt andremoved the manacles from me.I rubbed my wrists.There weremarks on them where the manacles had cut into me, when I waslifted to the block.The auctioneer cracked his whip.I looked up at him, from the sawdust.I was to be put throughslave paces.I tried to put from me what was being done to me.I wanted to go back to the library.The sawdust was in my hair, and its particles clung to mysweating body. Yes, I thought, I can find that book. I was on my belly, naked, in the sawdust. Yes, I thought, there was quiet, shy Doreen in the library,going quietly about her duties, there, walking about, returning to thereference desk, over that flat carpet, from the information desk, pastthe xerox machines. I rolled in the sawdust.Yes, there she was, there, in that simple sweater, that plain blouseand dark skirt, the dark stockings, the low-heeled black shoes.Surely no man could find her of interest.Then she became aware ofa man at the reference desk, looking down at her, one brightafternoon, a man whose look penetrated into her deepest heart andbelly, and stripped her, and saw the slave there.And he had caughther in her dancer s costume, that in which no man had ever seen herbefore, and she had then, in132 swirling skirt and scarlet halter, and bells, danced in the darkenedlibrary, danced before him and his men.I was vaguely aware of acry of pleasure from the crowd.I had performed the transitionbetween two of the moves in the slave paces with the startling,sensuous agility of a dancer.It then seemed that it was the dancer inthe sawdust, on the block, she who had worn the skirt and halter,and bells.How beautiful they seemed to find her! How she moved!She heard the exclamations of praise.The auctioneer stood back, thewhip lowered, startled. No! I cried.Then again I was awkwardand fearful, and only an Earth girl, miserable, confused and terrified,cringing in the sawdust of a slave block on an alien world. What is wrong? asked the auctioneer. Nothing, Master, I whispered, cringing before him on all fours.A gesture of his whip informed me I should like upon my back.Then I was supine before him.He turned about.He stood partlyover my body.He faced the crowd.He had one of his legs betweenmine. Two, was called to him from the floor. Two! Two! repeated the auctioneer, holding up two fingers. Two! The auctioneer did not sound angry at this bid.I myself wasstartled.The bids had been in the eighties before.Now, it seemedthey were reduced to only two.I was on my back, gasping, lying there.The auctioneer stepped a little away from me, and turned to faceme.It was now as though I could hardly move.I was terrified.Ihoped he would not beat me, because the bids were now down totwo.He looked down at me, puzzled.I think I must then have seemed to him quite otherwise than I hadbut moments ago.I do not think he understood this.It was almost, Isuppose, as though there were not one, but two women on the block,almost as though he had two different women to sell.I rose up on my elbows but he, with the heel of his bootlikesandal, thrust me back to the sawdust.He then, with his bootlikesandal, turned me to my stomach. Kneel, he said.I knelt.He thenreplaced the manacles on my wrists.He turned me so that I kneltfacing the crowd.He pulled down the short chain from thehorizontal chain. Stand, he said.I obeyed. What is wrong withher? called a man.The chain between my manacles was133 looped over the lower hook on the short chain.I could hardly stand.I was terrified.I looked out on the men.Any one of them, I realized,could own me [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.Iwondered if Teibar knew I would be sold in this place.He wasdoubtless privy to the records of the house.But he may have lefttheir service before I was consigned to the wholesaler130 outside Brundisium.But it could be this was a common clearingpoint for their slaves.It could be, too, he had retained contacts withthe house.He might very well know I was here.He may have even,for his amusement, arranged that it would be here, or in a similaroutlet, that I was sold, influencing the orders in some fashion.Perhaps that I was here, naked in a sales barn, my wrists manacledover my head, being bid upon by strangers, was part of hisvengeance on me.At the least he would have known that this, orsomething similar, would be done to me! How amused he must be,when he thought of such things, his haughty, pretentious modernwoman. as he thought, she whom he held in such contempt, to herdismay and terror, and miscry, now being sold naked from a slaveblock, into absolute bondage!Then I became aware of someone, or one or two men, actually,calling up from the floor.It was not bids they were calling.I tried tounderstand them.I did not know if it were their accents, or I simply,in my confusion, my misery and distress, had suddenly lost almostall my command of Gorean.I could not really understand them.The chain slackened above me and my arms fell, somewhat.Theauctioneer put his whip on his belt, held me by the left arm in hisright hand, and, with his left hand, reaching up, lifted the chainbetween my manacles off the lower hook of the short chain, thatattached to the strand of the double chain overhead.His hand on myarm kept me from collapsing to the sawdust.My hands were down,the chain on the manacles now against my thighs.He saidsomething to me, but I did not understand it.Then he reached infront of me and gathered the chain between my manacles into hishands and lifted my wrists up, bending my arms back.He put mywrists back, behind my head, and then released the chain on themanacles, letting it drop behind my neck. Clasp your hands behindthe back of your head, he said.I understood him now. Bendback, he said. Display yourself. I obeyed, of course.Too, thewhip was now again in his hand. Flex your knees, he said. Now,turn, he said. Do not forget our friends to the right, he said.I thendisplayed myself, again, identically, at the right side of the block.Idid not think the other girls had been removed from the chain, or notmany of them, given the speed with which the line had moved.Whyshould I be favored in this respect? The bidding had beeninterrupted at eighty-eight tarsks, whatever that meant.I did knowthat there was apparently something about me, perhapsunfortunately, which many Gorean men found of interest.131 I do not thing this was simply a matter of figure and face, though Ithink these appealed to a Gorean taste, but perhaps something else,something deeper, which they seemed to sense about me, some sortof possibility, or potentially, or something which I myself did notfully understand, or yet understand.Sometimes he touched me withthe whip, calling attention to a curve or flank.Teibar s modernwoman, I thought, is now displaying herself naked to Goreanbuyers.He then had me kneel and bent me back, painfully, my hairback to the sawdust, to the center, and then the left, and then theright, before the buyers.He then had me straighten up and unclaspmy hands from behind my head.He then lifted the chain forward,over my head.It then hung, between my wrists, a little below myneck.He let me lower my hands.My hands then, and the chain,were again on my thighs.My hands chained as they were, I couldnot both keep them on my thighs and maintain a full, open-kneelposition.I looked up at him, from the sawdust.Men were calling out, from behind the railing, and some from thetiers.To my surprise the auctioneer removed a key from his belt andremoved the manacles from me.I rubbed my wrists.There weremarks on them where the manacles had cut into me, when I waslifted to the block.The auctioneer cracked his whip.I looked up at him, from the sawdust.I was to be put throughslave paces.I tried to put from me what was being done to me.I wanted to go back to the library.The sawdust was in my hair, and its particles clung to mysweating body. Yes, I thought, I can find that book. I was on my belly, naked, in the sawdust. Yes, I thought, there was quiet, shy Doreen in the library,going quietly about her duties, there, walking about, returning to thereference desk, over that flat carpet, from the information desk, pastthe xerox machines. I rolled in the sawdust.Yes, there she was, there, in that simple sweater, that plain blouseand dark skirt, the dark stockings, the low-heeled black shoes.Surely no man could find her of interest.Then she became aware ofa man at the reference desk, looking down at her, one brightafternoon, a man whose look penetrated into her deepest heart andbelly, and stripped her, and saw the slave there.And he had caughther in her dancer s costume, that in which no man had ever seen herbefore, and she had then, in132 swirling skirt and scarlet halter, and bells, danced in the darkenedlibrary, danced before him and his men.I was vaguely aware of acry of pleasure from the crowd.I had performed the transitionbetween two of the moves in the slave paces with the startling,sensuous agility of a dancer.It then seemed that it was the dancer inthe sawdust, on the block, she who had worn the skirt and halter,and bells.How beautiful they seemed to find her! How she moved!She heard the exclamations of praise.The auctioneer stood back, thewhip lowered, startled. No! I cried.Then again I was awkwardand fearful, and only an Earth girl, miserable, confused and terrified,cringing in the sawdust of a slave block on an alien world. What is wrong? asked the auctioneer. Nothing, Master, I whispered, cringing before him on all fours.A gesture of his whip informed me I should like upon my back.Then I was supine before him.He turned about.He stood partlyover my body.He faced the crowd.He had one of his legs betweenmine. Two, was called to him from the floor. Two! Two! repeated the auctioneer, holding up two fingers. Two! The auctioneer did not sound angry at this bid.I myself wasstartled.The bids had been in the eighties before.Now, it seemedthey were reduced to only two.I was on my back, gasping, lying there.The auctioneer stepped a little away from me, and turned to faceme.It was now as though I could hardly move.I was terrified.Ihoped he would not beat me, because the bids were now down totwo.He looked down at me, puzzled.I think I must then have seemed to him quite otherwise than I hadbut moments ago.I do not think he understood this.It was almost, Isuppose, as though there were not one, but two women on the block,almost as though he had two different women to sell.I rose up on my elbows but he, with the heel of his bootlikesandal, thrust me back to the sawdust.He then, with his bootlikesandal, turned me to my stomach. Kneel, he said.I knelt.He thenreplaced the manacles on my wrists.He turned me so that I kneltfacing the crowd.He pulled down the short chain from thehorizontal chain. Stand, he said.I obeyed. What is wrong withher? called a man.The chain between my manacles was133 looped over the lower hook on the short chain.I could hardly stand.I was terrified.I looked out on the men.Any one of them, I realized,could own me [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]