Kiera of Gor (7)

7: We enter the great city of Corcyrus

The first thing that struck me about the city of Corcyrus as we approached it across the rolling fields of farmed sa-tarna plants was its walls; by which I mean the walls in the main looked new. I had never thought about it before, having always seen the ancient decaying walls of European cities from a modern perspective, but here of course the walls of these cities were obviously not only functional but recently built or at least recently repaired and maintained. These weren't the walls of an ancient civilisation, but rather the walls of a thriving present day conurbation. Looking at the walls of Corcyrus I imagined how the walls of great Roman cities must have looked at the zenith of its empire.

The defensive fortifications of the city of Corcyrus had been breached and sacked by the forces of Argentum during the equivalent Gorean year of 1982. I do not even pretend to know the history of the great rivalry between the cities of Argentum and Corcyrus except to say they had disputed the presence of some silver mines and gone to war over it. Corcyrus had come off worst and had been occupied for several years before the wider Cos-Ar war had thrown central Gor into turmoil. Since then the walls of Corcyrus have been repaired and to this day they stand proudly again with a white wash coating that reflects the noon day sun.

Sadric signalled for us to stop when we were approximately three pasangs from the city. I know this was the distance because a stone on the road was marked with the number three in the Gorean script, denoting the remaining distance a traveller could expect before he reached the main gates. A pasang is a Gorean distance approximating seven tenths of a mile in the system I was familiar with.

“Kiera, how do you say 'I beg to serve' in Gorean?” asked Sadric as he approached me. He did this frequently as we walked, instructing us all in phrases, and testing us on them soon after.

“La vera servassi,” I said quickly and proudly.

“Good girl.” He pulled a sweet candy from his pouch and motioned for me to open my mouth. I did so and was rewarded with a delicious taste. “And say to me now, 'how may a slave be of service, Master'?”

“Cas kajira por aspin servall, dominus?”

“I can see you were selected for your intelligence as well as your beauty, Kiera.” Sadric was pleased with me and he stroked my hair to prove it.

“Thank you, Master,” I said. My heart had missed a beat for a moment as I wasn't sure I had used the right tense for service as opposed to serve, but I had got it right.

“Of all the girls in my coffle, you're learning Gorean the quickest,” said Sadric. “Even Sophia isn't doing as well as you.”

“What do you mean, 'even Sophia'?”

“I can see there is a degree of rivalry between the two of you. I thought you might like to know an area in which you surpass her in skills.”

“I surpass her in many ways,” I said, angry now. “I do not even consider her a rival. She is not nearly pretty enough to be a rival.”

“Interesting,” said Sadric.

“What is interesting, Master?”

“That you automatically think in terms of your beauty when it comes to judging yourself. You really are a vain kajira it seems.”

“I happen to know that men find me pretty.”

“That they do.”

I smiled at that. He had just admitted that he found me pretty, beautiful even. I think secretly he desired me more than he desired Sophia, but refused to admit it to himself. Men can be complicated like that.

Corcyrus, I know now, is a city to the south of the vosk river, southwest of Ar and northeast of Argentum. Traditionally it has been politically allied with the might of Cos, which is why when Cos overwhelmed the armies of Ar in the mid nineteen eighties, the occupying army of Argentum was forced to withdraw from Corcyrus. Not that Corcyrus got to appreciate the relief as Cos extracted a heavy price for its aid, enslaving many of the most beautiful women from the city as tribute for their assistance. Alliances only run so deep after all. It is said that some of the most beautiful free women of Corcyrus disguised themselves as household slaves so as to avoid being taken as part of the levy set by Cos. Whether this is true or not or perhaps just an urban myth, I do not know.

Corcyrus has several architectural features of note including its great library, the theatre of Kleitos, its world famous stadium, and the decorative Garden of Antisthenes.

We were allowed to kneel for a time as Sadric wanted us to look fresh and rested when we were led through the gates of the city. The first impression a coffle of slave girls makes is when it is being led into the city. People will see it marching through the streets and they may be moved to enquire when and where the girls are to be sold. You therefore do not want tired and dejected looking girls to stumble through the streets with their heads drooping.

We drank some water, we ate some bread and hard cheese and we lay in the long grass soaking up the warm sunshine, for Corcyrus enjoys a climate akin to southern Spain.

I was Kiera now. My previous name had been taken from me and the other girls had been told not to call me by my former name ever again on pain of the lash. Furthermore they had been told to report me if I ever referred to myself again as Michelle Frost. And so like that my former identity was gone. I was to think of myself only as the slave girl Kiera.

Eleanor, the beautiful black girl, knelt beside me with a jingle of ankle chain. Like me she was nervous about what we might find within the city walls.

“We're going to be sold like cattle...” she whispered. “This is insane.”

“There must be someone in the city we can reason with,” I suggested. But deep down I felt my small measure of hope receding the closer to the city walls we got. Now I didn't doubt for a second that we could be legally marketed as merchandise on this barbaric world. It seemed to support and approve of the institution of slavery, and women in particular seemed to fall into that category. I had seen no male slaves thus far, though several days ago Sadric had assured me that there were male slaves on this planet. But even so, slaves of either sex are the minority. Approximately 2% of the female population is enslaved at any one time. Male slaves are rarer – approximately ten percent of the female total. So that is ten female slaves for every male slave, but forty nine free women for every one slave girl.

It stands to reason therefore that demand for slaves must outstrip the supply, and so Earth over the last few decades has been raided for fresh attractive stock. And yet the prices for raw untrained girls seemed remarkably low to me. Sadric explained that the true profits were to be realised after training.

“A girl marketed raw for fifteen copper tarsks can fetch multiples of silver after training.”

“How many copper tarsks are there to a silver tarsk, Master?” I had enquired.

“It varies by city, often due to the differences in the proportion of the precious metal in the local coinage, but you can safely assume 100 copper tarsks can be exchanged for a silver tarsk.”

I did not want to be sold. I feared being sold. How terrible it must be to be sold in a market place in which human flesh is the main commodity.

I lay in the long grass with the warmth of the sun on my skin, knowing that in just an hour or so I would be herded through the dusty streets towards a slave market.

I, the former Miss Michelle Frost of England, Earth, now the Gorean slave girl, Kiera, would be exhibited and sold like a farm animal.

I began to cry again and as I did I felt Eleanor put her arm around my shoulders to give me courage. I leaned into her embrace and cried some more.

“Be strong, Kiera,” She said. “I will be there with you.”

Those last three pasangs that I walked were agonising. Slowly, inch by inch, metre by metre we closed the gap between us and the city gates. Sadric led with Leofric to the rear. Both men had slave whips ready in case any of us needed further encouragement. My mouth felt dry as I walked across the recently ploughed field, my eyes moist with alarm. I could make out guardsmen at the gate speaking with a small queue of men and wagons who seeked to gain access to the city. Gor isn't like the European Union. It doesn't offer freedom of movement for its differing populations. To enter a city you have to convince the men at the gate that you have a valid reason for doing so and persuade them with evidence of your means so that you will not be a financial burden on its caste charity.

That Sadric and Leofric had a chain coffle of eight beautiful girls ready for the market was good enough for the guards to let them through. But first there was some degree of questions being asked. By now I could follow much of the conversation in Gorean even if I didn't understand all the subtleties of phrasing. It seemed that the guardsmen were enquiring why we weren't collared. I didn't quite understand this at first, but our bare necks aroused a certain degree of suspicion. It was only when they inspected our left thighs and saw the evident brands there that they relaxed.

“They're fresh captives,” explained Sadric. 'They will receive collars within the city.”

Once we passed through the city walls I began to understand what the guardsmen had been referring to, for we now saw other slaves, girls like us, mostly beautiful, clothed in tight brief tunics of thin cloth. They moved through the city, sometimes with masters, sometimes alone on errands, but in every single case they had a steel collar locked around their necks.

“Do you see what I see,” whispered Eleanor behind me.

“Yes, the steel collars... they must be slaves like us, but they have collars locked in place.” My hand strayed to my bare neck in horror. Would this be done to us?

“And look,” whispered Eleanor again, “other women...” These other women were very obviously not slaves for they were dressed in long robes that concealed their bodies completely. They wore opaque veils, ingeniously arranged about their lower faces, and some of their garments had hoods, giving them the appearance of middle eastern women, their features hidden from casual view. These women could not be slaves for they walked with pride and sometimes arrogance. No, these women were very definitely not slaves. Seeing them gave me some degree of reassurance that my sex did not automatically mean I was a slave within this primitive society. Obviously women, indeed the majority of women, could be free to go about their lives as they wished.

But the slave girls in their collars were a disturbing portent of what we might expect our new lives to be in this city.

“Do you see the way they walk?” said Eleanor. “So sensual, so feminine. I could never walk like that.”

“Perhaps they too thought that once before they were collared and trained,” I suggested. “Maybe that is how we will look when we are sold?”

“Never.” Eleanor hissed the word. “I can be chained but I cannot be broken.”

Personally though I wasn't so sure about that. I began to fear for myself that I might eventually be like these incredibly lovely slave girls going about their daily errands with humility and the grace of a ballet dancer.

The architecture in Corcyrus contrasts between the centre of the city which boasts a number of towering cylinder like buildings connected together by broad walkways open to the sides. I observed small figures of men in their Roman-style tunics and richly robed women, anonymous in their swathes of veils and fabrics go about their daily business walking across sky bridges that interlaced the network of cylinder buildings without any fear of falling. Above them in the clear blue sky speckled with the occasional marshmallow cloud were guardsmen mounted on tarns – the great war birds of Gor – seemingly patrolling the skies against foreign raiders. I later learned that it is common place for raiders to sometimes try their luck against the cities of central Gor, sending their own tarnsmen in daring sorties to try and pluck free women from these tall sky bridges. Such a raid is fraught with peril but is often seen as a way of testing manhood on Gor. Raiders of course never quite know what they are likely to capture as the free women could be beautiful or, as the saying goes, as ugly as a she-sleen. This is known on Gor as trying your 'chain luck'.

Women on Gor, whether slave or free, are seen as prizes to be seized and taken by the men of other cities. They are protected and, in the case of free women, revered by the men folk of their own city.

But away from the vast cylinder towers that suggested an architectural skill far beyond the capabilities of a pre-technological age, the rest of Corcyrus resembled an organic growth of buildings modelled after the Greek Roman period. These were crammed in between the city walls and in some cases the construction of buildings had stretched outside the city walls too, but those buildings would be vulnerable in times of war.

War is common place on Gor. The caste of warriors is one of the revered high castes and is looked upon as the defenders of its people. Warriors are accorded immense respect and rightly so, for they stand against a city's enemies, and on Gor everywhere but your own city is a potential enemy.

As a new coffle of naked girls being led through the streets of Corcyrus we attracted a good degree of interest. Men stopped to stare at us and smile. They made ribald jokes about our bodies and some called out to us whether we might be 'slave hot'. I blushed and lowered my head, afraid to meet their eyes. They could see me! They could see every inch of me!

The free women did not appreciate us at all. They hissed and called out insults as we passed by. One of the free women shouted that we were shameful and should be beaten. I began to comprehend that the reaction of the peasant women in the small village had not been an anomaly and that on Gor free women did not like slave girls. I began to understand that it might be in my best interests to try and avoid them, to certainly not anger them in any way, for I saw no sign that the men of Gor would restrict them in the way they lashed out at us with their tongues and in some cases their fists and sticks. I saw Julie struck by a bamboo stick on her thigh as she passed a group of three free women. They seemed pleased to hear her suddenly cry out in pain. Why did they hate us so? We were of their sex! They should pity us. They should want to save us from this. But no, they despised us. Again, I could not meet their gaze.

As for the slaves, they simply watched us out of curiosity, seeing girls who were nowhere near as trained as they were. Perhaps as they looked at us in our chain coffle they remembered a day long ago when they too were marched barefoot and naked into the city of Corcyrus, taken to an uncertain fate on the auction block. If they pitied us they made no sign of showing it.

My level of panic spiked as we approached the slave quarter of the city. It was a bustling market square surrounded by tall formidably secured buildings and it was crowded with slaves chained on display on raised podiums with free men and women passing between these platforms examining the merchandise. Leofric found a vacant platform and after handing over some coins to a man in robes of blue and yellow, marched us in line up a small set of narrow wooden steps. Here, one at a time we were told to kneel beside iron rings bolted to the sun bleached wooden decking. I felt the coarseness of the wood against my knees as one by one our necks were fitted with steel collars. I cried as a collar was placed about my throat and with a click of the lock secured in place.

“Pretty little kajira,' Said Sadric with a smile. “Your first collar, Kiera, though probably not your last.”

“Master,” I wept, knowing the end was so close now. I pressed my face to his lower legs, begging him once again not to do this but he simply slapped me back into position.

“Don't make me whip you, Kiera.”

One by one short display chains were fastened to the small rings at the front of our collars and the chains were in turn locked to the heavy iron display rings on the decking. We were displayed in a line in a particular arrangement that Leofric and Sadric obviously thought would contrast each of us nicely. And then, to my horror the men simply got up and left, saying something about finding some paga.

They had left us here! Left us chained, kneeling on a display platform in a crowded slave market! My hands went to the inflexible steel band about my throat. I turned it loosely around my neck feeling the lock mechanism at the back. There was a small key hole indentation but obviously none of us had they key.

A couple of men came over to look at us and I immediately lowered my head, afraid to do anything that might encourage their attention. I held myself very still but I could feel my body trembling as I heard my breasts and hair being discussed.

“It's always worth considering barbarians,” said one of the men. “They're cheap and they can be very responsive. What are you looking to spend?” he said to his friend.

“I have a budget of maybe twenty copper tarsks.”

“Then your money is best spent on barbarians. These ones look new to their collars so will fall in that price range.”

I held my breath as I sensed the men drawn towards Mary and Sally. I heard sobs and whimpers from the girls as the men reached out and began to touch them about the hips and breasts. Better them than me, I thought as I knelt there in misery. More men were approaching the platform now that some interest was being shown. I pulled back as far as my neck chain might allow, which was only a matter of another couple of feet and I tried to shoo away approaching men by shaking my head vigorously and whimpering the word 'no'. But then one of the men touched me! He touched me while I was chained by my neck!

I screamed and the effect of that scream was enough to make him stare at me in bemusement.

“Please don't touch me!” I cried. And suddenly I felt his hand slap me hard across the face. I fell back and lay there until I felt the same hands pull me back onto my knees.

“Worthless kajira,” he snarled. “I shall touch you as I wish. Where is your Master?”

“Gone,” I sobbed. “He has left us here.” It was true! They had both just gone and left us here, left us chained like animals, like slaves! Chained at the mercy of passing men who could treat us any way they wished. I closed my eyes in terror as I felt the man's hand go between my legs. Oh God! I felt him insert two fingers and probe inside me. I felt I was going to faint. Surely I would faint.

“White silk,” he said, removing his hand. “No wonder you are so frigid.” He was angry with me. “You'll sell for a copper tarsk, if that.”

“I am not frigid, Master,” said Sophia suddenly. She was chained to my left and to my astonishment she held out her hands and crossed her wrists before her belly. “I do not fight what I am, Master.”

“Slut!” I hissed at my former friend. “Filthy slut!” But the man seemed interested in her. Now that he moved towards Sophia I could take a good look at him. He seemed handsome, strong, and possibly even wealthy by the cut and fabric of his clothes. It suddenly occurred to me that Sophia had come to the conclusion that if she was going to be sold it would be better to be sold to a master who is handsome and wealthy. Would not the slavery then be easier to endure? I watched as the man handled Sophia quite roughly, but Sophia smiled at him as he did so.

Yes, that little slut was trying to influence her sale! She wanted a handsome, rich master! Oh how I despised her. As if a handsome rich master would want her in place of women such as me.

“How much does your master have in mind for you?” he asked.

“I do not know, Master,” Said Sophia. “We have simply been placed on display. I do not know his plans.”

“Can you kiss well, kajira?” asked the man.

Sophia flushed a little in embarrassment as she knew the other girls were watching her, but then she nodded and said, “yes, Master, I think I can.” The man then determined that fact for himself at length, taking his time with the chained girl, tasting and enjoying her lips.

“Adequate,” he said as he released an obviously aroused Sophia. “You would not be whipped for that.”

“Buy me, Master,” she said. “Buy me and I will learn to kiss better in future...”

I couldn't believe my ears! Sophia was begging to be bought! I glanced round at Eleanor and I could see from her expression how disgusted she was as well. We waited until the man had left, chuckling to his friends, and then we rounded on Sophia.

“What are you doing?”

“Leave me alone, Kiera.”

“You were throwing yourself at that man! You begged him to buy you!”

“So? Be a frigid little bitch if you want, Kiera. See what sort of master that gets you.” She raised her voice so that all the girls in her coffle might hear. “This is the reality for us now. We're going to be sold. Get over your illusions that any of you are going to be freed. Look at these men – do any of them look like the sort of men who would free a girl in a collar and chains? You're all stupid and spoilt. No one is coming to save you! Any of you!”

I could see her words were beginning to have an effect, for a few of the girls, not Eleanor or myself of course, began to look at one another and slowly, nervously began to straighten their backs and thrust out their breasts. A couple of them even began to smile at passing men, as if to appear pleasing to the eye.

“I will not beg and crawl,” said Eleanor resolutely.

“Nor I,” I replied, though to my shame I was now regarding the men who walked by our raised platform and speculating which ones I might prefer to be owned by, if it had to come to that. Perhaps Sophia was right in a way. Perhaps it would be better to select the man who might buy me? I had the power after all to influence my sale. I need only look at a man and smile and be nice to him and he would move heaven and earth to then buy me. If I chose the right man, if I chose a man who I could influence, manipulate, twist around my little finger with my charms, then my slavery might be an easy one. The important thing was to find the right man.

He had to be polite and respectful. I would I suppose prefer him to be handsome and strong since I might have to permit certain intimacies in the early days of my slavery. But once he was smitten I could begin to withhold my affections and make him anxious to please me. It is easy to train a man in this way. I had done it many times in London on Earth. One only needs to feign displeasure without explaining why, and then the man of Earth redoubles his efforts to try and correct whatever it is he has done, or failed to do, that has upset you.

But there was a problem. I could not begin to try and attract the attention of a handsome, strong man while Eleanor knelt beside me, resolutely refusing to entertain the idea. She might get the wrong idea and assume I was doing this because of some desire to have a strong man as my master. A preposterous thought, but then she didn't know me very well. I did not want her to make the mistake of thinking I was a slut.

And so I held back while the other girls began slowly but surely to display themselves before the passing men, many of whom now took a growing interest in our sales coffle. I gripped the chain that fastened to my neck collar and I felt the steel links, warm now to the touch from the hot sun. How barbaric it is to chain women! And yet I could see from the lustful expressions on the faces of the men how erotic the presence of the chains made us seem to them.

With six of the girls now trying to various degrees to appeal to the men, Eleanor and I were practically ignored. It irked me that this was the case, for I was obviously the most beautiful girl in the chain coffle, but my refusal to interact with the men meant they paid me no attention. I didn't want their attention of course, but even so.

I wished Eleanor wasn't chained here next to me. Why did she have to be chained here to my right like some watchful sparrow hawk! Why was she always so judgemental? I watched a handsome man stroke Sophia's breasts and I saw how she practically purred to his touch. The slut!

The man paid me no attention, and I was glad. I did not wish to be touched! I glanced at Eleanor and I saw she was watching the man too, but as soon as she noticed me looking at her she looked quickly away. Strange.

The red silk girls seemed the most popular with the men, and of them Sophia was the most popular again. By now they were experienced at responding to men in an overtly sexual manner. The three white silk girls who tried to at least seem inviting couldn't compete with what the red silks had learned during the journey to Corcyrus.

I glanced at Eleanor again and saw her looking at another man, but quickly she looked away when she noticed my scrutiny.

“These men look very strong,” I said quietly.

“I suppose,” said Eleanor. “It is a primitive pre-technological society after all. Muscle counts for a lot. That is why women are enslaved here and men are not.”

“There are male slaves here too, Look.” I pointed to a large cage at the far side of the market in which stood or sat ten sullen looking men. They were naked, heavily muscled and they stared out through the bars like feral wolves. Slaves they might be, but to me they looked dangerous.

“They were probably taken in war. They will be used for hard labour I suppose,” said Eleanor. “That is the way these societies work.”

“I suppose we would not have to call enslaved men masters?”

“I suppose not,” agreed Eleanor as she watched a free man pass by. He ignored us both and paused instead beside Sophia and Kim.

“Our plan seems to be working,” I said with pride.

“Our plan?”

“We are not encouraging the men, and see, they leave us alone.”

“So they do,” said Eleanor as she watched the man stroke and fondle Kim's body, assessing her as I might pick a designer dress from a sales rail and try it on for size.

“Perhaps we will not be sold?” I said with a smile.

“Don't be so stupid. Of course we will be sold. We will just not be sold for much money.”

I didn't like the sound of that.

“Then... who will buy us?”

“That is what I'm worried about,” said Eleanor as she shifted uneasily in her chains.