Plunder of Gor by John Norman Read Free Book Online

than objects, no more than stock, no more than cattle of a sort.”
    â€œStay,” I said, plaintively.
    â€œI must be going,” she said.
    â€œThen I will tell your shameful secret!” I said. “I will ruin your reputation! I will force you, in misery, to lose your job, to change your work, perhaps to leave the city, and state!”
    â€œThere is nothing shameful in being a woman, and having needs, and desiring to serve a master,” she said.
    â€œStay with me, if only for a bit, or I will tell!” I said.
    â€œPoor Phyllis,” she said. “It does not matter to me anymore, one way or the other, not any longer.”
    â€œI am sorry,” I said. “I will not tell! I will not tell! But stay, please stay!”
    â€œI am sorry,” she said.
    â€œBut,” I said, desperately, frightened, “earlier you said, I remember, that in any event, despite whether I would tell or not, that you must do what I wish!”
    Paula seemed struck by that.
    â€œYes,” she said, softly. “That is true. I now know myself. I have acknowledged what I am. I will stay.”
    â€œIf only for a little bit,” I said, desperately.
    â€œAs you wish,” she said, softly.
    Poor plain Paula, I thought.
    â€œI’ll make coffee,” I said.
    â€œNo,” she said. “I will do it.”
    I watched while Paula busied herself with the coffee. After a time, the bright, stirring aroma of coffee excited and charmed the kitchen.
    â€œWould you like cream and sugar?” asked Paula.
    â€œBoth,” I said.
    â€œMay I drink, as well?” she asked.
    â€œCertainly,” I said, puzzled.
    Then, to my astonishment, she bent down, and placed both cups on the floor, each wrapped in a napkin. She then knelt, by the table, and lifted one of the cups, wrapped in its napkin, to me, holding it with both hands.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” I said.
    â€œYou are a free woman,” she said.
    â€œI do not understand,” I said.
    â€œMistress,” she said.
    I took the cup with both hands, it wrapped in the napkin, and put it on the table.
    â€œâ€˜Mistress’?” I said.
    â€œAll free women are as mistress to me,” she said, “as all free men are as master to me.”
    â€œYou are kneeling,” I said.
    â€œAs is fitting,” she said. “A slave often kneels before free persons. It is my honor and joy to serve a free person.”
    â€œI am Phyllis,” I said.
    â€œYou are free. You are Mistress,” she said. “A slave may not address a free person by their name.”
    â€œYou are not a slave,” I said.
    â€œI am a slave, Mistress,” she said. “I have said the words.”
    I sipped the coffee, brushing the napkin aside, holding the cup by the handle.
    â€œMay I drink, Mistress?” she asked.
    â€œCertainly,” I said.
    â€œThank you, Mistress,” she said, and lifted the cup, wrapped in its napkin, to her lips.
    â€œSit beside me,” I said.
    â€œI dare not, Mistress,” she said, head down, frightened. “I am a slave, in her place, at the feet of Mistress.”
    â€œYou are not a slave,” I said.
    â€œWhen I said ‘ La kajira ’,” she said, “I became a female slave.”
    â€œI said that on the beach,” I said.
    â€œOh?” she said.
    â€œYes,” I said.
    â€œThen it is done,” she said. “The words were spoken.”
    â€œI do not understand,” I said.
    â€œThen you, too, are a female slave,” she said.
    â€œI did not know what they meant,” I said.
    â€œBut it is done,” she said. “The words were spoken, Phyllis. You, too, are now a female slave.”
    â€œNo,” I said.
    â€œYou, too, should be on your knees,” she said.

Chapter Three
    The large, heavy hand was clasped firmly over my mouth. My head was pulled back. I was helpless.
    â€œThis one,” said the fellow