| “Did you take me?” she asked.
“No,” I said. “Did Hurtha have me?” she asked. “No,” I said. “Why not?” she asked. “You are a free woman,” I told her. I then removed the sack from her head. Her face was red, and broken out. Her hair was damp. I turned the sack inside out, that it might dry and air. Boabissia turned away from me, apparently not wanting to meet my eyes. I do not think she wanted us to see her face. She was afraid, I think, of what we might see them. We would respect this. She was, after all, a free woman. We would, similarly, in deference to her feelings, keep Feiqa and Tula under the blanket for a time, lest their eyes suddenly, inadvertently, meet hers, and women read in one another’s eyes truths which might be deeper than speech. “Good night,” I said to her. Mercenaries of Gor Book 21 Page 122 “True,” I said. I thought it might be fun to sell Boabissia. She occasionally got on one’s nerves. Too, as a free woman, she could be something of a nuisance. Mercenaries of Gor Book 21 Page 150 “There are many ways to take a woman,” I said. “All of them are pleasurable. Much depends on the situation, and the time of day, and the preferences and tastes of the master. If you think that the pleasure of the man is inextricably linked with the pleasure of the woman you are naive. That is a common misunderstanding of the free woman. That is much like thinking that the fruit cannot be enjoyed if it has not first begged to be plucked from the tree. That is simply not true. One can simply take it and enjoy it. Indeed, there is something to be said for such takings. In them one simply imposes one’s will upon the helpless other. In them one senses imperiousness and power. Those who have felt such things know their value.” Mercenaries of Gor Book 21 Page 194 - 195 “Few men will trouble themselves to steal a dried crust of bread, perhaps even at great personal risk, if a free banquet is set forth for them. To be sure, some men are unusual.” “I am not a dried crust of bread,” she said, irritably. “It is only a figure of speech,” I said. “I am not a dried crust of bread,” she said. “You are a free woman,” I said. “If I chose to be, if I were in the least interested in that sort of thing,” she said, “I could prove to be a quite tasty pudding for a man.” “‘Tasty pudding’?” I asked, pleased to hear her speak in this way. “Yes,” she said. “That is a common misconception of untrained free women,” I said. “They think themselves attractive and skilled, when they know little of attractiveness and almost nothing of skill.” “Skill?” she asked. “Yes,” I said. “There is more in pleasing a man than taking off your clothes and lying down.” “Perhaps,” she said, irritably. “Indeed,” I said, “sometimes you do not take off your clothes, and you do not lie down.” “I see,” she said, angrily. “Perhaps you could get lessons from Feiqa,” I said. “Oh, no, please, Master!” cried Feiqa, fearfully. “Please, no!” I smiled. I did not think, under the circumstances, it would be necessary to beat her. It had, after all, been a joke on my part, a capital one. To be sure, not everyone appreciates my splendid sense of humor. Boots Tarsk-Bit had not always done so, as I recalled. Mercenaries of Gor Book 21 Page 203 - 204 How well, if haughtily, she now walked. I considered the walks of free women, and of slaves. How few free women really walk their beauty. Perhaps they are ashamed of it, or fear it. Few free women walk in such a way as to display their beauty, as, for example, a slave must. I considered the length of garments. The long garments, usually worn by free women, such as that now worn by Boabissia, might cover certain defects of gait perhaps, but when one’s legs are bared, as a slave’s commonly are, one must walk with beauty and grace. Too, given the scantiness of many slave garments, it is sometimes necessary to walk in them with exquisite care. The slave, for example, and this is commonly included in her training, seldom bends over to retrieve a fallen object. Rather she flexes her knees, lowering the body beautifully, and retrieves the object from a graceful and humble crouch. Sometimes, to be sure, commonly in serving at the parties of young men, certain objects, sometimes as part of a game, objects with prearranged significances among the young men, are thrown to the floor, and she must pick them up in a less graceful fashion. Whichever object she first touches determines to whose lusty abuse she must then submit. This game is sometimes played several times in the evening. I considered Boabissia. Her walk now seemed something between that of a free woman and a slave. It was, if haughty, quite good, and it showed, I thought, definite signs of slave promise. There seemed little doubt that, with some tutelage, and perhaps a collar on her neck, the beauty could be kept in it, and considerably improved, and the sullying haughtiness removed. I glanced again at her. Yes, it seemed to me that Boabissia might even be ready to walk in a slave tunic. I had little doubt but what several of the fellows she had passed, her nose in the air, would, with whips, have been more than willing to give her instruction in the matter, with or without the tunic. Mercenaries of Gor Book 21 Page 207 - 208 Page34 |