"Norman, John -Gor 24- Vagabonds of Gor" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norman John)

She dared not respond, nor meet his eyes.
"A gold piece for her," said the burly fellow.
The slave moaned.
"Two," said the burly fellow. "Ten."
"Do you think you are a special slave, or a high slave?" asked Philebus of the girl, moving the coils of the whip near her.
"No, Master!" she said.
"Twenty pieces of gold," said the burly fellow.
"You are drunk," said Philebus.
"No," said the burly fellow. "I have never been more sober in my life."
The girl shuddered.
"I want you," said Borton to the girl.
"May I speak?" she asked.
He nodded.
"What would Master do with me?" she asked, quaveringly.
"What I please," he said.
"Do you have twenty pieces of gold, Borton?" called out one of the fellows nearby.
Borton scowled, darkly.
There was laughter. His finances, I gathered, may have been somewhat in arrears since the time of the Crooked Tarn.
"Ten silver tarsks," said Borton, grinning.
"That is a superb price, Philebus," said a fellow. "Sell her!
"Yes, sell her!" urged another.
"She is not for sale," said Philebus.
There were some cries of disappointment.
"But perhaps," said Philebus to Borton, "you would care to use her for the evening?" This announcement was greeted with enthusiasm by the crowd. The girl, kneeling and small, trembled in her collar, in the midst of the men. Philebus handed the whip to Borton, who shook out the coils. "She is, you see," said Philebus, "merely one of my paga sluts."
There was laughter. It was true, of course.
"And there will be no charge!" he said.
"Excellent, Philebus!" said more than one man.
The girl looked at the whip, now in the hand of Borton, with a kind of awe.
"May I speak?" she asked.
"Yes," said Borton.
"Is Master angry with the slave?" she asked.
He smiled. He cracked the whip once, viciously. She drew back, fearfully.
"Use it on her well, Borton, my friend," said Philebus. "It is well deserved by any slut and perhaps particularly so by one such as she. Did she not part her silk without permission? Did she not put herself to the dirt before you, unbidden? Did she not speak at least once without permission, either implicit or explicit?"
"May I speak, Master?" asked Temione.
He indicated that she might, with the tiniest flicker of an expression.
"Forgive me, Master," she said, "if I have angered you. Forgive me, if I have offended you in any way. Forgive me, if I have failed to be fully pleasing."
He moved the whip, slowly. She stared at it, terrified, mesmerized.
"Am I to be beaten?" asked Temione.
"Come here," he said, indicating a place on the dirt before him. She did not dare to rise to her feet. She went to her hands and knees that she might crawl to the spot he had specified.
"Hold," I said, rising.
All eyes turned toward me, startled.
"She is serving me," I said.
There were cries of astonishment.
"Beware, fellow," said a man. "That is Borton!"
"As I understand the common rules of a paga tavern, under which governances I understand this enclosure to func­tion, I have use of this slave until I see fit to relinquish her, or until the common hour of closing, or dawn, as the case may be, unless I pay overage. Alternatives to such rules are to be made clear in advance, say, by announcement or public posting."
"She was not serving you!" said a fellow.
"Were you serving me?" I asked the slave.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"And have I dismissed you from my service?" I asked.
"No, Master," she said.