Captive of Gor by John Norman

was she?” asked the grizzled, one-eyed guard.
    “The Lady Rena of Lydius,” said Targo, “of the Builders.”
    Once again I found myself, with the other girls, chained in our wagon, moving
    slowly across the Gorean fields toward Laura.
    That night, at a stream, we stopped early to camp. In the evening, the girls,
    under guard, attend to various tasks. They tend the bosk, clean the wagons, draw
    water and gather firewood. Sometimes they are permitted to cook. Ute and (pg.
    75) I, tied together by the throat, but otherwise unimpeded, wearing our
    camisks, like the other girls, under a guard, went off with two buckets to
    gather berries. There were not many berries, and it was not easy to fill our
    buckets. I stole berries from Ute’s bucket, and had mine filled first. We were
    not supposed to eat the berries, and I do not think Ute did, but I would slip
    them inside my mouth when the guard was not looking. If one was careful to keep
    the juices inside there was no telltale sign on the lips and chin. Ute was such
    a sweet, precious little fool.
    When we returned to the camp it was near dark. I was surprised to see, glowing
    near our wagon, a small, hot fire banked with stones. From the fire there
    protruded the handles of two irons.
    When we had been fed, we were allowed to sit near the wagons. We wore our
    camisks. Our only fetter was a length of binding fiber, fastening us together,
    at intervals of about a yard. It was tied about the left ankle of each girl.
    For some reason the girls did not talk much.
    Suddenly the guards leaped to their feet, seizing their spears.
    Out of the darkness came two men, warriors. Between them, face-stripped, was a
    woman, stumbling. Her arms, over her resplendent robes, were bound to her sides
    with a broad leather strap. She was thrown to the feet of Targo. I, and the
    other girls, crowded about, but the guards pushed us back with their spears. The
    woman struggled to her knees, but was not permitted to rise. Her eyes were wild.
    She shook her head, no. Targo then, piece by piece, from the leather pouch at
    his belt, handed forty-five pieces of gold to the chief of the two men. The
    girls cried out in amazement. It was a fantastic price. And he had not even
    assessed her! We realized then that she had been contracted for in advance. The
    two men took Targo’s gold and withdrew into the darkness.
    “You were foolish to hire mercenaries to guard you,” said Targo.
    “Please!” she cried.
    I recognized her then. She was the woman with the retinue.
    (pg. 76) I felt pleasure.
    “Please!” wept the woman. I admitted to myself that she was beautiful.
    “You have an admirer,” Targo told her, “a Captain of Tyros, who glimpsed you in
    Lydius last fall. He has contracted to buy you privately in Ar, to be taken to
    his pleasure gardens on Tyros. He will pay one hundred pieces of gold.”
    Several of the girls gasped.
    “Who?’ asked the captive, plaintively.
    “You will learn when you are sold to him,” said Targo. “Curiosity is not
    becoming in a Kajira,” said Targo. “You might be beaten for it.”
    I remembered that the large man, on the planet Earth, had said to me this thing.
    I gathered that it was a Gorean saying.
    The woman, distraught, shook her head.
    “Think!” urged Targo. “Were you cruel to someone? Did you slight someone? Did
    you not grant someone the courtesy that was his due?”
    The woman looked terrified.
    “Strip her,” said Targo.
    “No! No!” she wept.
    The strap was removed from her body, and her clothing cut from her.
    She was bound tightly over the large rear wheel of our wagon. Her right thigh,
    particularly, was lashed tightly to it, with several straps of binding fiber. I
    myself wore my brand on the left thigh.
    I watched her being branded.
    She screamed terribly, her head back. Then she was sobbing, her cheek pressed
    against the rim.
    We girls crowded about her.
    Her head was down on the rim.
    “Lift your head, Child,” I told her.
    She