"17 - Savages of Gor v2" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norman John)

I threw back the heavy furs on the great stone couch. Quickly the girl pulled up her legs and turned on her side. I, sitting up, looked down at her,trying to cover herself from the sight of Thurnock. I pulled her then beneath me.

"Oh," she breathed.

"You will grant him, then, an audience?" asked Thurnock. "Yes," I said.

"Ohh," said the girl. "Ohh!" Now, as she lay, the small, fine brand high on her left thigh, just below the hip, could be seen. I had put it there myself, at my leisure, once in Ar.

"Master, may I speak?" she begged. "Yes," I said.

"One is present," she said. "Another is present!"

"Be silent," I told her. "Yes, my Master," she said.

"You will be there shortly?" asked Thurnock. "Yes," I told him. "Shortly."

The girl looked wildly over my shoulder, toward Thurnock. Then she clutched me, her eyes closed, shuddering, and yielded. When again she looked to Thurnock she did so as a yielded slave girl, pinned in my arms. "I shall inform the emissary of Samos that you will be with him in moments," said Thurnock.

"Yes," I told him.

He then left the room, putting the tharlarion-oil lamp on a shelf near the door.

I looked down into the eyes of the girl, held helplessly in my arms. "What a slave you made me," she said. "You are a slave," I told her.

"Yes, my Master," she said.

"You must grow accustomed to your slavery, in all its facets," I told her. "Yes, my Master," she said.

I withdrew from her then, and sat on the edge of the couch, the furs about me.

"A girl is grateful that she was touched by her Master," she said. I did not respond. A slave's gratitude is nothing, as are slaves. "It is early," she whispered.

"Yes," I said. "It is very cold," she said.

"Yes," I said. The coals in the brazier to the left of the great stone couch had burned out during the night. The room was damp, and cold, from the night air, and from the chill from the courtyard and canals. The walls, of heavy stone,too, saturated with the chilled, humid air, would be cold and damp, and the defensive bars set in the narrow windows, behind the buckled leather hangings. On my feet I could feel the dampness and moisture on the tiles. I did not give her permission to draw back under the covers, nor was she so bold or foolish as to request that permission. I had been lenient with her this night. I had not slept her naked on the tiles beside the couch, with only a sheet for warmth, nor naked at the foot of the couch, with only a chain for comfort.

I rose from the couch and went to a bronze basin of cold water at the side of the room. I squatted beside it and splashed the chilled water over my face and body.

"What does it mean, my Master," asked the girl, "that one from the house of Samos, first captain in Port Kar, comes so early, so secretly, to the house of my Master?"

"I do not know," I said. I toweled myself dry, and turned to look upon her. She lay on her left elbow, on the couch, the chain running from her collar to the surface of the couch, and thence to the slave ring fixed deeply in its base. Seeing my eyes upon her she then knelt on the surface of the couch, kneeling back on her heels, spreading her knees, straightening her back, lifting her head, and putting her hands on her thighs. It is a common kneeling position for a female slave.

"If you knew, you would not tell me, would you?" she asked.

"No," I said.

"I am a slave," she said. "Yes," I said.

"You had me well," she said, "and as a slave."