Story 14: The Collector

Online Gor is a sham though it has proven to be a worthy hunting ground. I have claimed a significant number of women over the last almost five years.

I never counted on though ending up in my current predicament. I would not have thought this dilemma was even possible. I was clueless as to what to do.

Online Gor was very interesting at first. People thirsting for knowledge about Gor. Men and women trying to break down their bizarre social conditioning. People seeking to better themselves.

Disillusionment quickly followed. Far too much was only deception and lies, people pretending to be what they could never be. They blatantly ignored what they learned. They twisted the ideals to fit their own predilections and prejudices. It made me ill.

Gor is a reality. The planet exists and John Norman knew much of the truth. For unknown reasons, he was permitted to tell its story as a fictional series.

But Goreans have visited Earth and have abducted people, usually women, and taken them to Gor. That was my job right now. A five-year mission to acquire slaves for the markets of my wondrous world.

The anonymity of the computer was a great advantage to my work. I could easily possess multiple identities. I could reach into many, diverse online Gorean communities.

Many women online were quick to divulge the most intimate details of their lives. They were too trusting. And if they vanished one day, most assumed they had just changed their nickname or moved on to a different online community.

Online, women flocked to me. I am sure that subconsciously they understood the difference between me and the many wannabees they met online. The men largely ignored me, likely partially out of jealousy and fear. They too understood I was different and they knew they could not measure up to me.

I would be glad to return to Gor. Much of Earth disgusted me and the pollution sickened me. I wanted the pure skies of my home world, the verdant fields, the taste of fresh, roasted bosk.

I was finalizing my last choices, the remaining women who would be transported to Gor. One final shipment for me. My assistants would soon begin the abductions once they received my list.

I was permitted to add one or two of my own personal acquisitions to each shipment. Thus, I could possess her if I so desired. Strangely enough, in almost five years, I had not set aside a single slave for myself.

None of them had truly interested me. They were untrained barbarians that required much training. I had little use for such except to occasionally slake my lust.

The strangest part was that I did not wish to enslave her. I wanted a more equal relationship with her, more like a Free Companionship. I could not explain this oddity.

I had no one to discuss this with, to help me understand this conundrum. My assistants were men of Earth. They could not understand. I could only engage in self-examination to comprehend my instincts, to delve into my motivations.

Like most of my Gorean friends at home, I had planned on taking a Free Companion one-day so that I could have a family and continue my lineage. We all wanted to continue our gens, protect the future of our caste and to revel in the joys of children.

It seemed incongruous. How could one love a woman who was not a slave? How could you love someone who has not totally submitted to you? How could you love the typical frigid and ignorant free woman?

I examined and re-examined my feelings, trying to ascertain their origin and rationale. Was it a temporary aberration? Had Earth corrupted me? Had the societal conditioning of Earth reshaped my mind over these last five years?

We met for drinks at a quiet little restaurant and we talked for a couple hours. There was s subcontext of passion beneath the innocuous chitchat. Neither of us broached that subject though it was foremost in our thoughts.

She displayed her submissive nature though I also noted a certain air of independence. That spark of independence was typical of the free women I had known.

After dinner, we left the restaurant and walked into the parking lot. I took her into my arms, held her tightly and kissed her passionately. She melted in my arms, pressing her warm body against me. She eagerly responded to my kiss and I knew how much she desired me.

At her place we wasted no time and headed directly to her bedroom. Though initially shy and reticent, she soon opened up and became quite uninhibited.

When I left in the morning, Neko was fully sated, amazed at the events of the prior evening. She had surrendered fully to me and I had claimed her body as my own.

We met twice more and each time was better than the time before. My feelings for her intensified though I was still confused over whether she should be slave or free.

At our fourth meeting we talked first. I indicated that I was soon moving away, a great distance, and would likely never return. I was vague in my statements, letting her draw her own conclusions.

She then confessed her ardor for me, the deep love within her soul for the true man she had found. Tears welled in her eyes and she told me she did not want me to leave. She wanted to spend her future with me.

I told her that it was a necessity that I leave. Though I indicated that it might be possible for her to accompany me, provided she was willing to cut all ties to her family and friends, forever.

She could not understand the reasons for such a severance and I would not go into more details. She would not mind moving, as long as she could still have some ties. I told her that was impossible.

We eventually stopped talking, realizing we would not resolve anything that night. We made love and her lovemaking was more desperate this time, clinging to me as if she could hold onto me forever.

The next morning, before I left, I placed a letter on her kitchen table. It stated I was leaving in nine days from near a cabin in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. It gave her directions to that spot. It also asked her to join me, if she was prepared to give up her life, forever.

Neko was bursting with questions. She wanted to commit, to join me, but she needed answers first. She needed to know my destination and why it required such a great severance from her.

I told her of the reality of Gor, of my job on Earth, of my Home Stone and Caste. I stood when I told her of my Home Stone, nothing less than honor demanded.

She was incredulous at first but soon believed. She realized how truly different I was from any other man she had ever met. It was very plausible and logical.

We sat in silence for a time as I waited for her to consider my offer, to contemplate the enormity of her decision, that absolute finality. Journey to Gor or remain on Earth. Follow her heart or remain within the safety of Earth. Remain with her family and friends or say goodbye to them forever.

Neko looked at me, then at the ship, down to my hand and back to my eyes. Her mesmerizing eyes stared deeply into me and I saw her eyes were moist with tears.

I did not understand her decision. I do not know why she chose as she did. Maybe I should have asked but the answer may have hurt more than not knowing.

She had brought in five gold tarns, an incredible amount for an untrained barbarian despite her ravishing beauty. It had even been a private sale and not an auction. That made the figure even more incredible.

Port Kar's dancing girls were some of the finest of all Gor. They brought superb prices at market and it was a status symbol to possess such a link on your chain.

Among the dancers of Port Kar, none were said to be better than those of the Dancing Dina. Victus had a reputation for owning and training only the elite. His girls never sold for less than one hundred gold tarns.

If he bought Neko, he must have felt she possessed the potential to become a superb dancer. If so, his five tarns would eventually reap him an incredible return.

At least I knew Neko would still be at the House of Victus. He did not buy slaves unless he intended to train them. And only six weeks had passed. By now, she would be just speaking Gorean to some degree.

I arranged a business trip to Port Kar, transporting a bevy of new slaves for slaves. I obtained an appointment with Victus to display my wares. I would then broach the subject of Neko.

Victus was a gracious host, serving me the finest wines and foods. After dinner, I displayed my wares to him. An auburn-haired Passion slave intrigued him but her ankles were too thin for his tastes. He did not think she would make a good dancer.

Victus could not rave any more when she spoke about her. His eyes lit in delight as he bragged about how well and how quickly she was learning. She was possessed of a strong intellect. He also was entranced with her alluring beauty, especially her mesmerizing eyes.

Victus had only a single concern. He detected a deep-seated sadness within Neko and he did not believe it was due to her recent abduction and enslavement. It lay much deeper than that.

He offered to display her to me, to show the progress she had made in such a short time. I eagerly agreed, my emotions swirling within the pit of my stomach.

When she entered the hall, head bowed, I simply stared in amazement. She stood there nude, save for a simple band of steel about her slender neck. She was even more stunning than I remembered.

Victus was looking at her face when she first saw me. And he witnessed it all quite clearly. He saw her deep-seated melancholy vanish in an instant, replaced with elation.

Instead of answering his question, I offered him one hundred gold tarns for Neko. That would be a substantial return on his investment especially as her training had barely begun.

Would I dare to steal her? That would be foolhardy. Victus had excellent security and I was not a Warrior. I could try to hire some mercenaries. I did have money.

A few days later, I still had not come up with a solution. I then learned about an experiment being held soon at the Dancing Dina. Some believed that slave dancing was genetic and that all girls could dance well. Others felt that it was a learned skill and not all possessed an aptitude for it.

I did not trust the motives of Victus. He must know that Neko would fail? How could such a raw girl, especially one of Earth, be expected to meet the standards of girls who spent years in training?

I hired a band of mercenaries to abduct Neko at the canals before she could be tossed to the urts. They would then leave the city and rendezvous with me later somewhere down the coast.

At the appointed time, Victus came out and stood before the throng to explain the experiment, that an untrained barbarian would dance for her life to show whether slave dancing was genetic or not.

He introduced Neko who slowly walked to the sands, visibly shaking. The stress of the moment had to be oppressive. I am sure she felt that the rest of her life was numbered in Ahns.

She would dance as well as she could but was resigned to the fact that she would ultimately fail. She had watched a few dancers perform and knew that she could never match their abilities.

She stepped into the sands, her naked body glistening with oil, giving a sheen to her soft skin. Her head was bowed and a tabor began to play. She listened to the rhythmic pounding of the drum and the audience was nearly silent, admiring her luscious curves.

She was suddenly a changed woman, gone were the despair and hopelessness. She was full of life, emoting deep passion and sensuality. She went from virginal innocence to wanton slut. She danced to the crowd, offering her body to each, filling them with desire.

Her movements were so natural, so instinctive. It had to be true that slave dancing was genetic. Otherwise there was no way to explain Neko's fantastic abilities.

I cried with joy to see the wonder of her dancing. She was as good as any dancer I had ever seen. She was dancing well enough to perform before a Ubar.

Victus had no other option that to judge her dance a success. The crowd would have never accepted a declaration that she had failed. There would have been a riot that would have destroyed the tavern.

I first had to ask her about the dance, how she was able to dance so well without any training. It had been miraculous. I was not sure she would even have an answer.

She smiled and replied, "When I was to dance for my life, I lacked true motivation. What type of life did I have to look forward to? Was it worth existing as a slave to Victus, a man I despised? I did not want to live without you in my life. Then I saw you sitting at the edge of the sands."

"No, I was resigned to the fact that I would be killed. I also knew Victus would never sell me to you. I would never be with you again. But, I suddenly chose at that moment to give you a gift, the gift of my dance. I wanted to dance my love for you. I let that love fill my body and take control of my limbs. Everything I felt for you I encapsulated into that one dance. A memory to sustain you always. I did not think as I danced, simply letting my passion guide me. I thought that even though we might be forever apart, I could at least give you one final gift."

She responded that it had been out of fear. Everything had moved so fast in those last ten days. She had feared what might happen to her on barbaric Gor.

Neko and I celebrated one year of bliss, unfettered love and passion. We lived a lifetime in that year and joyfully renewed our Companionship when the first year had passed.

During the Renewal Ceremony, I took her right hand into mine, and slipped onto her a finely crafted silver bracelet, my gift to her, a token of my love.

What a life we lived! The theater, tarn races, parties and feasts. We traveled, enjoying the sights of such cities as Venna, Ko-ro-ba and Brundisium. And the nights, within our bed chamber, brought their own wonder.

It is a bit disconcerting dealing with a Free Companion rather than a slave. The rules were different. In general, she submitted to my wishes but there were exceptions.

Those exceptions were at the core of a Free Woman, her need for independence and freedom. Though we clashed at those times, it was always educational.

After the renewal of our vows, we chose to spend some time at our villa in the Fulvian Hills, the foothills of the Voltai Mountains. We planned to stay for a Hand, just the two of us. No servants or slaves.

Victus had never loved Neko. He wanted her as a slave, a treasured possession. An item to display to his friends. A spectacular dancer for his paga tavern. A status symbol.

Victus had been willing to kill Neko, to deny her to me. He had been shocked when she danced so wondrously, easily passing his deadly test. He had expected her to fail.

It clearly had been a murder and not a robbery. Neko was still wearing the silver bracelet I had given her for our Renewal Ceremony. I lifted her left arm and removed the bracelet. I placed it into my tunic, intending to attach it to a thong of leather that I would wear around my neck.

Two Hands later, I arrived in Port Kar. I had not shaved in several Hands so a beard helped conceal my identity. I wore simple clothes without any caste colors.

As he walked through the crowd, I signaled my assistant. A poor fisherman. For a few gold tarns he would start a minor brawl. He had no clue as to my intent.

I could kill him now. Or I could let him live, though there would be a price. His three children and Free Companion would die in his place. I told him my men waited for my signal or they would slaughter his entire family.

I knew the death of his Free Companion would not matter to him. But his children meant a lot to him. I believed he would not let them die in his stead.

I first told him that if anyone stopped me from leaving the tavern, his family would die. Victus then told them all to let me go, even though I would kill him.

I told him he would die for murdering my beloved Neko, for allowing her to burn to death. He would die for the wound in my soul. He would die for being a coward and not facing me as a man. For attacking my home while I was not there.

I rapidly left the tavern, praying that no one attacked me. They were leery of me, worried about the poison. And Victus had asked them not to attack me.

The next nightmare that came, I chose to embrace it. I immersed myself within it, concentrating on each and every detail. I sought a clue to that which eluded me.

I worked through intermediaries to ascertain what had happened to the Slaver House of Victus. Though his family had retained the wealthy House, his surviving Free Companion had decided to liquidate some of its holdings. Many slaves had been sold.

I went to Selnar and then headed directly to the Silver Yoke, a tavern reminiscent of Tharna before its men revolted. Like the Chatka and Curla, it was a Cosian theme tavern. Daily combats were fought within a large sandy area in the center of the circular tavern. Many of the combatants would wear silver painted yokes.

When a girl came over to serve me, I described Neko to her. The girl believed she might know such a girl but that she would be working tomorrow night.

I spent about fifteen Ehn in the tavern, gulping down my paga. I moved toward the door to leave but found it blocked by a burly warrior, a jagged white scar on his face reaching from his left ear to the corner of his mouth. I tried to move around him but he blocked my path.

Khaven had been a Cosian Slaver once captured by forces from Ar when he attempted to raid a village near Tabuk's Ford. He had been consigned to battle in the arena of Ar, bloody gladiatorial games.

Upon regaining his freedom, he immediately returned to Cos, even more hateful of Ar. He has been known to seek out slaves who were once from Ar so he could inflict special tortures upon them.

After his return to Cos, he returned to being a Slaver. I met him at a few auctions in cities like Schendi and Turia. We had similar tastes in slaves and often bid on the same ones.

He then inquired as to which girl I desired. I told him that she was not working that night. He then told one of his girls to assemble the other kajirae immediately.

I looked carefully at them and Neko was there. As I saw her again, my breath stopped. The short tunic showed off her shapely legs up to her mid-thigh. The thin fabric clung to her every luscious curve, accentuating the delightful swell of her breasts. Her long brown hair hung nearly down to the middle of her back. And her eyes, those mesmerizing eyes, bore into my soul. I ached for her with a passionate longing.

Khavan was willing to sell her to me but he did not want tarsks or tarns. Instead, he proposed a different arrangement. An arrangement I might not survive.

I must last one Ahn within the sands, engaging in a series of gladiatorial contests. Each specific battle would have a time limit of eight Ehn with a two Ehn break in between each match. I did not have to win, just survive.

I could allow no obstacle to prevent me from reuniting with her, the woman I loved so deeply. The one woman who had taught me the secrets of my heart.

I had a passable acquaintance with the gladius. I hoped that my skill was sufficient to simply defend myself. Attack would not be an option. I only wanted to survive.

I wanted to go over to her but Khaven would not allow it. Her eyes though spoke volumes. I could clearly see she still loved me. That fire still burned, white hot.

As the midpoint of the combat passed, my foe became more aggressive, actually cutting me a few times on my arms though nothing even close to lethal or debilitating. He even made a few shallow cuts on my legs.

The next combat involved hook knives, a weapon I knew little about. It was a common arena weapon. Speedy footwork would be essential to avoiding being cut.

The rest break passed too quickly. The third combat was to be unarmed. I faced a muscular though not bulky man. I had some skill in this area but was sure that my opponent outclassed me.

And I soon realized his plans. He directed his attacks at several key joints, my knees, elbows and shoulders. He was trying to partially incapacitate me.

Khaven, the superb gladiator, one of the rare few who had won freedom in the sands of Ar. Even in perfect condition, I would never have been able to defeat him.

I was given a helmet, shield and gladius while Khaven would only have a gladius. The shield was useless as my left arm could not carry it. The helmet would be a burden and further sap my strength. I could only use the gladius.

It was my final stand. Death and the loss of Neko or life and love. I summoned from within every last reserve of energy I could muster. I fixated my mind on one single thing, my love for Neko.

Khaven waited patiently for the match to begin, standing in his combat ready stance. For him, the battle's conclusion was a given. He saw no path where he could lose.

How important is our motivation in our actions? Does it propel us to exceed our limits when our motivation is particularly strong? Do we settle for less when the source of our desire is more mundane? And I thought of those who fight for their Home Stone. And how even a seasoned Warrior would not dare block a mere Peasant carrying a Home Stone. The power of such devotion, such potency, cannot be denied.

Khaven approached me, slowly and deliberately. I moved a bit forward and then stood my ground, maintaining a defensive stance. I only had to survive, my constant mantra.

I tried to twist away but felt the cold steel slice into my chest, through my ribs. As Khaven withdrew the bloodied sword, I collapsed onto the sands, my blood spilling out.

The year of my Free Companionship replayed through my mind. All the joy, the shared tears, the passion and the pain. The entirety of our relationship encapsulated in one infinite moment. Those eyes, that soft skin, the wine of her lips, the warmth of her embrace. Her smile, her laugh, her soft voice. Our discussions, our silences, our excitements and quiet times. The shared emotions, that chemistry that cannot be defined. Such an intangible feeling that is so very real. Sitting in the park, in the shade of a large tree, simple enjoying the weather, savoring the moment of our togetherness. Walking through the markets of Ar, haggling over a piece of jewelry, a scroll. Sitting at a Turian café, listening to the musicians play an ancient tune.

He never expected that I would attack. He was not counting on my aggressive thrusts and slashes. He was not counting on my single-minded determination to survive.

I feinted to his left hip, watched him extend himself to block the strike and my gladius skewered out into his chest. Gouts of blood gushed forth from his wound, a look of great shock on his face, as he fell to his knees.

Somehow, Khaven's blade had not struck any of my vital organs. I had lost a lot of blood but a Physician could still save me. And Khaven's men, respectful of my performance, quickly brought a Physician to tend to me.