Black Beauty[1]
Peony D. Beckside
With appreciation and thanks to John Norman for creating the
wonderful world or Gor, in which this story is set. Also to ‘Emma of Gor’, the fanfic blogger,
for the use of some of her characters and concepts.
Chapter Five: Acclamation.
I heel my Master proudly. Not proudly in the sense of seeing myself as better than anyone else, most definitely not better than any free person, especially the women. Such hubris could get me killed right quick; or agonisingly slowly. My pride is not even that of believing that I’m more beautiful than any of the other slaves on the street. The one thing about Gorean men, is that they have an excellent eye for female beauty. Many of the slaves that I see are stunning. They make the fabled Black/Mexican cross of Southern California look quite ordinary. I must have something about me though. I see the looks of admiration, or is that desire?, from the men, hear the ribald shouts and catcalls from some. Back on Earth, such would have upset and angered me. Here, I take them as compliments. To paraphrase Oscar Wilde, ‘The only thing worse than being lusted after, is not being lusted after’. One of the first things that a female slave must shrug off when she arrives on Gor, is the negative brainwashing that Earth Society loads on women. No woman is ever thin enough, or fat enough. No woman ever has nice enough hair. No woman’s figure is quite perfect, et al. That marketing ploy is what fuels the huge women’s vanity industry. Without instilling a fear that one is not good enough in all and every way, the whole corporate edifice would collapse.
Another
aspect of Gor is that the tastes of Gorean men are much more varied. What one of the men thinks is utter
perfection of beauty, to another is just so-so.
Perhaps that is part of the brainwashing that men get on Earth, to see
only a limited stereotype of women as beautiful perfection.
Further
yet, and to Earth political dogma’s totally heretical and anathema, is that
Gorean men believe that the deeper a woman’s slavery, the more beautiful she
becomes. I would never have believed
such, but since I’ve been here on Gor, I’ve begun to believe it, to see the
truth of it. Slavery does agree with us,
we women. I dare not say such in the
hearing of free women. The response
would be catastrophic!
It is in
that sense that I’m proud. I’m proud
that I am the very best slave that I can be, particularly so for my
Master. Doubtless there are things that
I could do better, learn to do better.
That slave dance, at Master’s party was stunning. Here there is a sense that shortcomings can
be addressed with suitable training.
It’s a question of how much a Master wishes to invest in a slave’s
training; whether for example, he feels the need for his girl to be able to
dance and to what standard.
That
doesn’t mean to say that a slave must be lazy in learning all she can from
other outside sources. Watching how other slaves walk, how they hold
themselves, how they approach their Masters, how they wear their camisk or
whatever they have been given, how they do their make-up, if such is
supplied. I’ve picked up innumerable
tips from simple observation. No, at my
present level of knowledge, I am proud to be the most perfect slave that I can
be.
I giggle to
myself. Silly isn’t it, that it’s my job
to make myself so desirable that my Master wants to take me for his pleasure,
in doing so, driving me to the ecstatic pleasures that I want! “Please don’t throw me into the briar patch![1]”
Of course
that’s what free-women want, but dare not admit to themselves, as every woman
wants and has ever wanted on Earth or Gor, since time immemorial. It’s bred into our genes! That free women dare not admit this to
themselves is why, when someone they consider is ‘their’ man admires a gorgeous
wanton slave, or worse still goes to a paga[2]
tavern[3]
to use one of the tavern’s ‘lascivious sluts’, the free woman is incensed. It’s why free-women hate slaves so much. We unconsciously challenge their femininity,
their desirability.
Master is
speaking to someone! He’s becoming
increasingly popular in the city. He
seems to know everybody, and they seem to know him. His going out and about round the city is
more than just his need to do so for business or his pleasure. It’s deliberate. He’s making friends. ‘Shaking hands and kissing babies’ to use an
Earth cliché.
Over time
I’ve seen him go from being relatively unknown to a situation now where,
wherever he goes there soon gathers a small but growing crowd of people
surrounding him. His popularity is
soaring. I sense that soon he will be in
a position to challenge the incumbent for the Ubarship!
My job when
following him around town, apart from being ready and available as what on
Earth is called a ‘gopher[4]’,
is to be decorative, for Master to be seen as ‘an ordinary bloke’, a ‘man of
the people’, a man of good taste, etc.
Wherever
Master stops and anything like a crowd forms, he begins an impromptu
speech. I don’t take much notice of the
content. Apart from such being
irrelevant to me, me being a slave, I simply don’t know enough about the
political state, the administrative state. of the city for his speeches to make
much sense. I kneel at his side making
it look as if I’m interested. A look of
rapt attention on my face.
The look of
rapt attention is not feigned. It is my
LOVE of him, that I can hold this passionate gaze upon him. Again though, there is a feeling that things
are not all as they seem in relation to my relationship with my Master. What is it that’s not quite right? I mean, I love him absolutely, right? What could possibly be wrong with that?
What I do
notice in Master’s speeches is him harping on about how grand, how imposing,
how impregnable the new West gate of the city is. The gate that he designed (with a little
input from me), whose building superintendence he is supervising.
[1] Brer Rabbit and the Tar
Baby, in the Uncle Remus tales.
i.e. Please don’t do to me what I
secretly do want you to do to me.
[2] A fiery brew made from
sa-tarna grains. Can be drunk warm, hot
or cold.
[3] The cost of paga in
taverns is quite high, but the use of a serving slave, usually in a curtained
alcove, comes with the price of the drink, or little more.
[4] Slang: A general
‘runner’. From the sound of ‘go-fer’
this, ‘go-for’ that.
"contest for the Ubarship"?? In the early books, Norman stated that most Gorean city states were ruled by an elected council, which selected one of them as the Administrator. Ubars were temporary dictators appointed by the council in times of crisis. They traditionally stepped down when the crisis had passed. Obviously inspired by Cincinnatus. Marlenus, Ubar of Ar is unusual when he refuses to step down and the Soldiers of Ar support him. Later books seem to have many cities ruled by Ubars, so perhaps Marlenus' example led to an anti-democratic wave. Regardless, Ubars tend to be warriors, not builders and challenging them would likely be a coup rather than smoozing people to get their votes. Depending on where you are going, you may want to have the city ruled by an Administrator, or keep it an Ubar if there will be an armed revolt. Or this could be a city where they just changed the title of their elected Administrator to "Ubar" while keeping the post more political rather than a military dictatorship
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