Plunder of Gor by John Norman

“has nothing to do with her coloring, her figure, or such, for many men are found of such a configuration, but with her character, her impatience, her personality, her vanity, her nastiness, her pride.”
    â€œThe whip and slave gruel,” said the second man.
    â€œYes,” said the leader, “she might have possibilities.”
    â€œKurik is not a fool,” said the second man. “He might have been annoyed, but I am sure there was more to it than that. Certainly he would not recommend that every woman who is a nuisance, or bother, should be transported to Gor. He is a good judge of collar meat.”
    â€œPossibly,” said the third man.
    â€œWell,” said the leader, with satisfaction, looking down at Paula, “the afternoon has not been wasted.”
    â€œIndeed not,” said the third man. “We are fortunate. How often, when one stoops to pick up a pretty pebble, a common gem, will one find a diamond, as well?”
    I struggled, in fury.
    â€œLie still,” I was told.
    â€œMore coffee,” suggested the leader.
    â€œYes, Master,” said Paula.
    I lay on the linoleum, helpless. Later, Paula knelt, humbly, head down, to the side.
    The hands on the kitchen clock moved, sometimes it seemed slowly, sometimes rapidly.
    The men played cards, at the kitchen table.
    It was growing dark outside. After dark, I feared that Paula and I were to be taken somewhere. I was much aware of the time. I was much afraid. After dark, late, a metal-and-leather apparatus was drawn forth from a small case. It had a bit. It was put on Paula, from behind, and fastened in place. I do not know if they feared she might, at last, cry out, on the street, or they merely wished to familiarize her with her helplessness in a slave bit. I was angry! How willingly she submitted, even eagerly, to her bitting! I was drawn upright, rudely, to my knees, still in my bonds. They let me stay that way for a few moments, they looking down at me, perhaps that I would better know myself kneeling, and bound, before men. I put my head down. My ankles were freed, and I was drawn to my feet. My improvised gag was removed, and then I, too, was bitted. The device was forced into my mouth, and thrust back between my teeth. It locked behind the back of my neck. I realized that I could not tear it from my mouth, even had my hands been free. I wondered if slaves sometimes served in such devices, perhaps at suppers with free women present. Well then would they be reminded that they were slaves, and well then would the free women be reminded, to their pleasure, of their difference from, and their superiority to, slaves, such lowly, humble, marketable, negligible beasts. I would later learn that there were several varieties of slave bits, which differ considerably, aesthetically, and in comfort, while being uniform in their efficiency, that with respect to rendering a slave incapable of speech. A major difference amongst such bits is with respect to their closure. That in which Paula had been placed, and that in which I was shortly thereafter placed, once snapped shut, could be opened only by a tool or key. In that sense they were much like slave collars. Such bits are commonly used when one or both hands of a girl are free. Most bits, however, indeed almost all I would become familiar with, are intended, like the common gag, to be used with a bound or braceleted slave who, given her securing, cannot reach the device. In such a case, a keyed lock, most often, is not deemed necessary. It might, of course, be used in some cases, as when one wishes to preclude certain possibilities, say, a secured slave’s responses, once relieved of the device, to a stranger’s questions. Also, any attempt to adjust, ease, or remove a bit or gag is cause for discipline. Accordingly, gagged or bitted slaves, even if their hands are free, would seldom dare to touch the gag or device. It was put on them by a master. Thus, they must wait