Kajira of Gor

36 In the Quarters of My Master

I was thrust, laughing and stumbling, down the hall before Drusus Rencius. I wore nothing but a steel collar locked on my neck.

I preceded him, pushed' and thrust toward his quarters. I laughed with joy. He was not gentle with me. He was angry.

"To your belly!" he snarled, at the entrance to his quarters.

Then, in a moment, as I lay on the tiles I felt my hands jerked behind my back and tied there, tightly. In another moment, I felt his strong hands cross my ankles and loop them with binding fiber. Then, by the loops, they were drawn closely together. Through my ankles I felt the jerking tight of the knots. I then lay there at his feet, helplessly trussed. He flung open the door, angrily. He then scooped me tip as though I might weigh nothing and threw me over his shoulder. I was then, as a capture and a slave, carried helplessly over the threshold. Within he put me on the floor, on the tiles, near the foot of the couch, near the slave ring. He then closed and locked the door behind us. He then came and stood near me, looming over me, looking down at me.

This morning, early, had been sent stark naked, even collarless, to the courtyard, that I might bid farewell to my friends of Feast Slaves, who were now leaving for Ar. I had spoken with them, and kissed them, shedding tears. My favorites among them were Claudia, Crystal and Tupa, with whom I had been close friends. I watched them all, one by one, naked, ankle-chained, then climbing into the wagon, threading their chains about the opened central bar, then taking their places. Many times had I, too, similarly secured, en route to various destinations, usually in the city of Ar itself, been similarly secured and transported.

"You are naked," observed the voice.

"Yes, Master," I said. The voice was that of Drusus Rencius.

I had not been given permission to turn, "Where is your collar?" he asked. "I do not know, Master," I said. "It was removed from me this morning." "Why?" he asked.

"I do not know, Master," I said. "I suppose it is to be changed." "That is true," said the voice.

"Master?" I asked.

"You are going to be put in a new collar," he said.

"Master?" I asked.

"I have it here," he said.

"You, Master?" I inquired.

He stepped about, in front of me. He showed me an opened collar, graceful and slim, and of inflexible steel.

"Read it," he said, indicating the legend which, in small, graceful letters, was incised in the metal.

"I cannot read, Master," I said. "I have never been taught."

"Oh, splendid," he said, irritably. "An illiterate slave!"

"Some men think they are the best kind," I said, not a little irritated myself. I was not illiterate in English, of course, only in Gorean. I had not been taught to read in Corcyrus, probably in order to better keep the politics of the city from me, and in order to guard against my better understanding my position there. Many Gorean slaves, of course, are illiterate, and deliberately kept so. In that fashion, for example, she may be used to carry messages about, even having to do with herself. The common way in which a girl carries a Gorean message is on foot, with her hand braceleted behind her. The message is then inserted in a capped leather tube tied about her neck. Given the braceleting, of course, even a literate girl may be used to carry messages in this fashion, which may or may not have to do with herself. Some men feel that if a woman is taught to read and write, particularly after she has been made a slave, she may come to think that she is important. This delusion, of course, may be swiftly removed from her by the whip. For what it is worth, literacy commonly increases the value of a slave. It may usually be depended upon to add a few copper tarsks to her value "You seem bitter," said Drusus Rencius.

"Yes," I said.

"Why?" he asked.

"My own master has not even seen fit to change my collar," I said.

"I see," he said.

"What collar is it," I asked, "the collar of a scullery maid, of a kitchen slave?" I had not realized I had been so displeasing last night.

"Neither," said Drusus Rencius, "or, perhaps, in a sense, both, and that of other slaveries, as well."

"I do not understand," I said.

"What is so hard to understand?" he asked.

"You have been empowered by Miles of Argentum to change my collar, have you not?" I asked.

"No," he said.

I touched the collar, fearfully. "I do not understand," I whispered. I feared for Drusus Rencius. I feared he had committed a crime.

"I do not need that power," he said.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because it is my collar," he said.

"Yours!" I cried. I almost turned about.

"Yes," he said. "I bought you last night."

I fainted. lay now naked, save for my collar, on the tiles of the quarters of Drusus Rencius, in the palace at Argentum.

I had apparently not long been permitted the luxury of unconsciousness in the courtyard. I had awakened, held in a sitting position, my face, stinging, seeming to explode, being jerked, by blows, first with the flat of a hand, and then with its back, from side to side. Gorean men are not always indulgent with their female slaves. I scrambled to my knees and looked up at my master, Drusus Rencius, of Ar. "To my quarters, and swiftly, Slave," he snarled.

"Yes, Master!" I had cried, joyfully.

I had then preceded him to his quarters, moving swiftly, but scarcely swiftly enough, it seemed, from the point of view of Drusus Rencius, striding fiercely behind me, like some impatient, grumbling giant. It seemed he could not wait to get me alone. Many times was I hurried, pushed and thrust from be-hind. I was even twice kicked. It was not my fault that I was a woman, and that my legs were shorter than his! Then, at his portal, I had been ordered to my belly. I had then been bound, hand and foot. I had then been carried into the room, over his shoulder, as a slave, helpless. He had put me down on the tiles, near the foot of his couch, near the slave ring. He had locked the door. He was now standing near me, looking down at me. I pulled, futilely, at the ropes on my wrists and ankles. I was bound, perfectly. The door was locked. I was a slave girl alone with her master. I was utterly helpless.

He stepped back a bit. His face was unreadable.

"Whip me!" I begged. "I love you! Teach me that you own me!"

He took a step, further back.

"I beg the lash, Master," I said. My heart was filled with joy and love. His face was expressionless. He did not speak.

"Let me kneel before you," I said, "and beg to be beaten with a slave whip." He did not speak.

"Whip me!" I begged. "I love you! I love you!"

"Slave," he sneered.

"Yes, Master," I said.

"Natural slave," he said, angrily.

"Yes, Master," I said.

"I did not know you were a natural slave," he said.

"You knew it before you bought me," I said. "You knew it from last night." "Yes," he said.

"But still you bought me!" I said.

"Yes," he said.

"I love you!" I said.

"You are a natural slave," he said. "Your love is Worthless."

"It is, at any rate, real," I assured him.

"I wonder," he said.

"You paid for it," I said. "You must have wanted it."

"Perhaps," he said "Master?" I asked.

"Perhaps I have purchased you not for your love, but for your hate," he said. "I do not understand," I said.

"You have caused me much grief and pain," he said, "particularly when you were a free woman, in Corcyrus."

"I am sorry, Master," I said.

"And well you might be," he said, "as you are now my slave."

"I am sorry anyway," I said.

"Perhaps it is my intention to humiliate you, to debase~ and degrade you, to abuse you, to teach you, at my hands, fear, misery and pain!"

"You may do with me as you please," I smiled. "I am your slave." "I wonder how you will like it," he mused, "in your collar, hating me, but utterly helpless, knowing that you must obey me, absolutely, and serve me, in all things, with total perfection."

"I do not hate you," I laughed. "And you need not concern yourself with obedience and service. As I am a slave, you may depend upon them. Too, I shall render them to you eagerly, not only from the meaning of my collar but from the bottom of my heart."

"Perhaps I should debase and degrade you," he said.

"The more you debase and degrade me, Master," I "said, "the more I shall love you."

"How you tortured me in Corcyrus!" he said, angrily, looking down at me. "I was cruel and petty," I said.

"Much misery did you cause me," he said, angrily.

"I am sorry," I smiled. I was not completely displeased, of course, to learn of his discomfort.

"You are not truly sorry, are you?" he asked, a smile about his lips. "Not really," I admitted, shrugging in the ropes.

"Why?" he asked.

"I am a woman," I said.

"Women enjoy taunting men, and tormenting them with desire," he said. "Some women, sometimes," I said.

"You, then," he said.

"Yes," I said, angrily, rising to my elbows, "I, then!"

"I thought so," he said.

"It is a flattering tribute to a woman's power," I said, "her capacity to arouse desire!"

"Doubtless," he said, bitterly.

"I only wish I had known how important I was to you at the' time," I said. "That would have made the matter much more amusing!"

"I see," he said.

"I am glad to learn, even now,' I said, "how much I had disturbed you. Thank you for confessing it to me!"

"You're welcome," he said, quietly, perhaps too quietly. "I'm glad I made you miserable!" I said, angrily. "I'm glad I made you sweat and squirm, when you could not have me!" I was glad, too!

In Corcyrus he, though desperately attracted to me, I think, had resisted my advances. This had caused me great frustration. I had, as a consequence of this spurning of me; taken a woman's vengeance upon him. I had, in a thousand ways, in glances, in small words, in smiles, in tiny gesture's, in movements, in seemingly careless proximities, seeming inadvertences, tormented him. I had seen to it, many times, that passions would flash and flame in Drusus Rencius, which I would then, haughtily, refuse to satisfy.

"But those days are gone, aren't they?" said Drusus Renlay back on the tiles. "Yes, Master," I said. I swallowed hard. I was very conscious, then, of my nudity, and of the tight binding on my wrists and ankles, making me absolutely helpless.

"Things are different now, aren't they?" he asked. "Yes, Master,' I said. I was now a slave. The least discontentment a girl causes her master can be taken out of her hide. I was now at his disposal, completely. I must now ready myself for him, and please him fully, at as little as a glance or a snapping of fingers. "Get on your knees," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said. I struggled to my knees. It was not easy, bound as I was. He did not help me. I then knelt before him. He stood then, his arms folded, some feet from me, across the tiles.

"You look well on your knees, bound as a slave," he said. "Thank you, Master," I said. I recalled Corcyrus, where I had been to him as a Tatrix. I was now bound naked before him, as a slave.

"There are vengeances to be taken upon you," he said.

"Do with me as you will,". I said. "I am yours."

"I will," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said.

"How I despise you!" he said.

"Yes, Master," I said.

"You are utterly beautiful," he said "Thank you, Master," I said. "Are you afraid?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"You do not seem truly afraid," he said.

"I do not think you are the sort of man who buys woman to hurt her," I said. "You cannot know that," he said.

"I suppose not," I said. Consider the matter of marriage Most women, prior to their marriage, do not truly know the man they are marrying. They will come to know him, truly only in living with him, his. It is natural, then, that a woman should enter into such a relation with a certain amount trepidation. How much more so, then, must this be the ca with the female slave, whose new master, one who will have total power over her, is likely to be a total stranger, a fellow whom she has probably never even seen before her sale. Is I going to enfold her lovingly in his arms, and master her, and cherish her as a treasure, or is he going to feed her to sleet She does not know. You strive desperately to please him. You are his. You hope for the best.

"You do not seem convinced," he said.

"I am not," I smiled.

"Perhaps suitable lashings would convince you," he said.

"Perhaps," I smiled.

"Do you think you are never to be whipped?" he asked.

"No, Master," I said. "I know that I am a slave. I know that I am subject to the whip."

He unfolded his arms and looked at me, with fury. "Ho utterly, utterly beautiful you are," he said, "and how provocative, and delicious!"

"And I am yours, and you may do with me as you please." I said.

"How you infuriate me!" he cried, suddenly, his fist clenched. He turned away. I was silent. I squirmed a little the ropes. They held me well.

He stood by the window in his quarters. "I remember Cos," he said, bitterly. He put the palms of his hands on the sides of the window, looking out.

"I, too, remember Corcyrus," I said, happily.

"Slut," he snarled.

"Yes, Master," I said.

"There are vengeances to be taken upon you, he said, angrily.

"You are certainly entitled to them, "

Yes, Master," I said, smiling. I loved Drusus Rencius.

He looked about at me, angrily.

"Let us put our heads together," I suggested. "Perhaps, then, we can plan certain appropriate exactions, ministrations where with that arrogant slut, Sheila, may be well punished for her stupidities."

"You seek to divert my wrath," he said.

"Perhaps," I smiled.

He leaned back, wearily, against the wall, by the window, looking at me. "Surely a girl cannot be blamed for hoping to do that," I said.

"I suppose not," he smiled.

"Oh," I said, "I forgot! I am no longer Sheila, am I? My collar has been changedi" I looked at Drusus Rencius. "I do not have a name now, do I?" I asked. "No," he said.

"Is master going to name me?" I asked.

"I will, if it pleases me," he said. "I will not, if it does not please me." "Yes, Master," I said.

"I am a fool," he said.

"I shall maintain a judicious silence," I said. "If I agree I Would seem to proclaim my master a fool. If I disagree, I should, at the very least, contradict him." "I am a fool!" he said, miserably.

"I do not think so," I said, "but, of course, I am only a slave, and I could conceivably be mistaken."

"I should sell you," he said.

"You may do with me as you wish," I said. I had no fear, however, that he would sell me. It was not for such a purpose, I was confident, that he had bought me. "You do not fear me, truly, do you?" he asked.

"Not, ultimately," I said.

"Why?" he asked

"Must I speak?" I asked.

"No," he said, angrily. "You need not speak."

He turned wearily, angrily, away.

"Master?" I asked.

He turned again to face me. "You are a beautiful, complex woman," he said. "I am a simple slave," I said, "a man's toy, a bauble for his pleasure." "Simple or complex, you are a slave," he said. "There is no doubt about that." "Your slave," I reminded him.

"Why did I buy you?" he asked.

"I can think of several reasons," I said.

"Do you mock me?" he asked.

"I tease you," I said. "I do not mock you."

"I care for you," he said, suddenly, bitterly.

"I know," I said.

"And you only a slave!"

"Yes, Master," I said.

"What a fool I am!" he cried.

I was silent.

"You did it to me," he said.

"I?" I asked.

"Yes," he said, "you, with your intelligence, your beauty, your vulnerability, your sensuousness, your glances and movements, your bondage skills, your insidious slave wiles, the perfections of your servitude, made it impossible not to desire you, not to lust for you, inordinately, not to want you, not to demand you, to the point of madness, for my very own!"

I was silent, bound before him. There was some truth' of course, or at least I thought so, to these charges. At least I hoped there was. I had tried, with all the skills I had been taught, and with all the devices, and instincts, of the natural slave, which I was, to attract and lure him. The outcome of such a campaign, of course, if successful, is that the girl becomes the man's slave. She is then, of course, subject to whatever vengeances he might be pleased to take upon her.

I squirmed in the ropes. I belonged to him. I began to sweat. For the first time I felt genuine fear.

"You wrapped me about your finger," he said. "You manipulated me!" "Forgive me, Master," I said.

"Gloat in your power, Slave!" he said.

"Forgive me, Master," I whispered.

"Even last night," he said, "in your writhing on the steps, you made me wild for you. You made me want to tear off your silk and hurl you beneath me, then to have you, uncompromisingly, like the luscious slut and slave you are!" "Yes, Master," I whispered.

"I saw your body jerk in the hands of the soldier!" he said, accusingly. "I cannot help what I am!" I cried, looking up at him, angrily, tears in my eyes.

"You are a slave!" he cried.

"Yes!" I cried. "And had you been there you could, later, have seen my body jerk in the hands of Miles of Argentum. That night he made me, three times, serve him well, and the third time, writhing, I cried myself his, a submitted slave. In the morning I kissed his feet in gratitude!"

"Slave, slave!" snarled Drusus Rencius.

"And do you not make women respond like that," I said, "the girls in the taverns, the girls on their mats, the girls thrown to your feet, for your sport, at the house of a friend?"

"Yes," he said, angrily. "I make them grovel and scream!"

"And why, then," I asked, "should you object if other men make me respond in the same way?"

He regarded me, with fury.

"Am I different?" I asked. "Apparently not," he said. "I am not!" I said. "They are slaves," he said. "So, too, am I!"

"I had hoped you might be more," he said.

"What?" I asked.

"A free woman," he said.

"I have been a free woman," I said. "Do not laud them to me!"

"Do you speak ill of free women?" he asked.

"No," I said, "for I do not wish to be whipped!"

He glared at me.

"Look at me." I said. "I am naked and bound before you! Would you really prefer that I was a free woman?"

"No," he said, and my blood almost froze in my veins.

"You see?" I whispered.

"Yes," he said, angrily.

"I am a thousand times more than a free woman," I said "both to a man and, in my heart and emotions, to myself."

"How is that?" he asked.

"I am a slave," he said, simply.

He looked down, sullenly.

"You take free women into companionship," I said, "but you dream of slaves. You even dream of the free woman as slave. I doubt that any glandularly sufficient rhale does no want us as slaves. If he doesn't, then I think he must be very short on imagination. What do you think is the meaning of your size and strength, your energy and agility, your dominance? Do you think it is all some alarming, inexplicable, statistical eccentricity? Can you not see the order of nature? Is it so difficult to disclose? why do you think men make us slaves, and put us in collars? It is because they want us a slaves. And why do you think we make such superb slaves Because we are born slaves."

"if I take my place in the order of nature," he said, "then obviously, you will be put in yours."

I pulled at the ropes. "I think I am already there, Master," I said. He looked up at me.

"I am on my step," I said. "It is now only necessary that you ascend to yours." "You do not even have a name," he said.

"Perhaps Master will, if it pleases him, give me a name."

"Perhaps I should name you," he said. "Doubtless you might be conveniently ordered about and referred to, if you were named."

"Yes, Master," I said. The name would be a slave name, of course. Such names, like collars, are worn whether the slave wishes them or not. Some masters think of such names being along the lines of verbal leashes, the utterance of the name, like the sudden tug of a leash, immediately calling the slave's attention to the master and his wishes. In any even the slave name, and the knowledge that it is a slave name deeply, and appropriately, informs the consciousness of the slave. Too, of course, it is the only name she has.

He turned away from me.

"You still hesitate to accept me as, what I am, a total slave don't you?" I asked.

"Perhaps," he growled.

"If you wish," I said, "relate to me as to a despised slut bondage. You will discover that I will respond well to you m r that role."

He spun about. "Do you think that you are not despised? he asked.

"Master?" I asked.

"I do despise you," he said, angrily, "for Corcyrus, for your meaninglessness, for your pettiness and cruelty, for what you are, and for what you have done to me I"

I shrank back in the bonds.

"And you are maddeningly beautiful," he said. "You are excruciatingly desirable!"

I was silent.

"I am a free man!" he cried. "I am of the warriors!

"Do you want me to pretend to be a free woman?" I asked. "I can do that. I did it for years. At times I even believed it. I can do it again! Command me, if you wish, to the pretense!"

"You are a slave," he said. "It is all you are. Do not mock me." "Forgive me, Master," I said.

"Day in and day out, night in and night out, I fought my feelings for you," he said. "I immersed myself in duties. I adopted strenuous activities. I sought solace even in the taverns, and in the arms of others. I chided myself for my foolishness. I berated myself for my stupidity! I castigated myself for my madness! But I could not drive you from my mind! Ever more hotly burned the flames of my passion! And you are not even free!"

"No," I said, suddenly, angrily. "I am not even free!"

"A slave!" he said.

"Yes!" I said. "A slave!"

"Gloat, Slave," said he, "for you, with your wiles, and your insidious beauty, have brought a soldier, and a free man, low."

"Punish me," I said. "You own me."

"Do not fear," he said. "You will be punished, for CorCyrus, and for your insolence."

"Even now," he said, "still, when you are helpless, in my ropes, I find you exquisitely desirable, exquisitely beautiful."

"Thank you, Master," I whispered.

"You ruin me," he said. "You tear me apart!" I put down my head, frightened. "You make me a slave!" he cried. "It is I who am the slave," I said. "I hate' you!" he cried.

"I do not think so," I said.

"As Sheila, who was the true Tatrix of Corcyrus, was to Ligurious, so, too, are you to me!" he said.

"No!" I said. "There is a great difference!"

"What?" he demanded.

"I love you I" I said.

"Sly, clever slave!" he sneered.

"I do love you!" I cried.

"Cunning, insidious slut," he said. "You fear for your own hide! You know that you are now, at least, within my power. You fear that it will be done to you as you deserve, that you A ~ill be thrown to sleen!"

"No!" I wept.

"Sweat and squirm now, luscious slut," he said. "Cry out your love for me. Perhaps I will be moved to be merciful, and keep you as the lowest and most worthless slave on Gor!"

"I do love you!" I wept.

"Lying slave!" he cried. He leapt across the room, and, with the flat of his hand, savagely, struck me from my knees. My right shoulder struck the tiles. I tasted blood in my mouth. I lay there, bound, frightened. It had been only a slap, but I felt as though my head might have been almost taken from me. I was awe-stricken. I had not realized how strong he' was. What if he had truly struck me? I knew I must obey him with perfection.

"On your back," he said, "knees raised, heels on the floor." I then lay before him, in a standard, supine capture position.

"You look well at my feet, Slut," he said.

"Thank you, Master," I said.

"Have you reconsidered the telling of truth?" he asked.

"I love you," I whispered.

"Lying slut!" he hissed. He then, with the side of his foot, kicked me. I recoiled, crying out. I would doubtless, for several days, bear a fine bruise there, evidence of his displeasure.

I turned to my side. I put down my head. I kissed the foot that had kicked me. Then I returned to my former position.

He turned away from me and went to the other chair in the room, a curule chair, with ornate, curved arms. I, my head turned to the side, watched him. He sat down in the chair, his hands on the arms, and regarded me.

"Should you not be on your knees, Slut?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," I said. I struggled to my knees and knelt, facing him. He regarded me. He seemed weary.

"And thus it is," he said, "that slaves conquer warriors."

"It is I who am conquered, Master," I told him, "not you."

"You make me weak," he said, wearily.

"Unbind me," I suggested, smiling, "and I will make you strong." "She-sleen," he smiled.

"Yes, Master," I said.

He looked to one side of the room, moodily, lost in thought. "How strange has been the course of events," he said. "I took you for a Tatrix, and my enemy. Then, as it pleased you, in the fullness of feminine cruelty, when I could not have you, when you thought me a mere guard, you amused yourself with me, taunting me with your beauty, torturing me with desire. Now, months later, you have come into my power, as my naked slave."

He turned his head slowly towards me. Then he regarded me, slowly, fully, every bit of me.

"Are you well roped?" be asked.

"I am roped perfectly, and am absolutely helpless," I said. "It was done to me by Drusus Rencius, of Ar, my master."

"It is a suitable answer," he said.

I was silent.

"Perhaps I will keep you," he said.

"Do, please;" I said. I loved him.

"If I keep you," he said, "you will be kept as a slave. Do you understand what that means, my dear?"

"Yes, Master," I said. I would be kept in the absolute perfections of Gorean slave discipline. I would have to be perfect for him, in all ways. I shuddered. "Do you believe it?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," I said.

"That is well," he said, "for it is true." "Yes, Master," I whispered. "You seem to be afraid," he said. "I am," I said.

"But you were not before," he said. "No," I said.

"But you are now?"

"Yes," I said.

"Now I sense, as I did not before, that you are strong enough to control me, and to punish me, terribly, if I do wrong, or am not fully pleasing."

"Believe it," he said, quietly.

"I do!" I said.

"I wonder if you will make a good slave," he-said. "I will try my best, Master," I said.

Then he continued to look at me, appraising me. I straightened my body.

How marvelous it must be for a man, I thought, to have such absolute power over a woman, to have her so subjected to him, even to having her in the perfection of his bonds. And how marvelous it was for me, too, to know myself so much his, to know myself, willlessly, eagerly, at his pleasure. And what woman does not want a man a thousand times more than she, one to whom she must submit, one whom she must fear, one whom she must love?

I looked at him.

"It is different from Corcyrus, isn't it?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," I said.

He looked away, again, again seemingly lost in thought.

"May I speak?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

"Is it truly so tragic, to care for a slave, just a little?" I asked. "You have done enough," he said. "Do not seek further to make a fool of me." I was silent.

He put his head down, in his hands.

How painful, complex and subtle can be the relationships between human beings. I tried to understand how he must view me. He saw me, it seemed, as one who, if she were free, and immune from punishment, and held power, would torment and scorn him, exploiting him, despising him, amusing herself with him. As far as I knew I had done little to provoke these feelings, at least until he had refused my advances. I had given him reason, to be sure, in Corcyrus, to believe me contemptible and petty. I had made certain Earth values, to his irritation, clear to him, such as an amoral expediency and a mockery of honor. My smallness, my contemptibility, I had unwittingly flaunted before him, regarding such things, at that time as signs of my depth and cleverness. Too, he seemed to find me, in some way, and I did not fully understand it, maddeningly desirable. This had to do, it seemed, with some unusual and subtle relationship between us. These things, doubtless in part because of his pride and self-image', his reluctance to accept tenderness, his fear of feeling and sentiment, his lofty conceptions of the attitudes and behaviors proper to his caste, had driven him half mad with frustration. Yet, too, he had, with Menicius, risked his life in the camp of Miles to free me, and he had sought desperately to protect and defend me in the inquiry with Claudius and the high council. It was clear, I think, he cared for me deeply.' In all this, of course, he regarded me as little more than a curvaceous, scheming slave, one who did "not care for him, but one who, to protect herself, would do anything, even pretend falsely to love. He did not know I truly loved him.

I resolved upon a bold plan. I would attempt to get him to cure himself of the false Sheila, that the way might then be open for a poor, nameless slave who so much loved him.

"Free me," I said, angrily, pulling at the ropes. A He looked at me. "Free yourself," he said.

"I cannot!" I said.

"Why do you wish to be freed?" he asked. A "I do not love you!" l said. "Now, at last, you speak the truth," he said.

"Not only do I not love you," I cried, "but I hate you! I despise you! I hold you in contempt as a ~iteous weakling! I always have!"

He smiled.

"I am tired of trying to fool you," I said. "Now, free me!"

"Why should I free you?" he asked.

"Because I am a free woman!" I said.

"That is ~not true," he said. "I saw you' jerk in the' hands of A? the "soldier." "I could not help myself," I said.

"Only a natural slave could not have helped herself," he said.

"I do not want to belong to, you," I said.

"I have an alternative in mind," he said. "I think I shall A? give you to the department of the mines. There, naked and yoked, you shall carry water." "No!" I cried.

"Do you beg to be kept in my collar?" he asked. "Yes, Master," I whispered. "Then we shall let it stand at that, shan't we?" he asked. "Yes, Master," I said. I had not counted on the possibility of being sent to the mines.

I knelt back in the ropes. I looked at Dri~su's Rencius. He was quite capable, I realized, suddenly, of sending me to the mines. I did not want that to happen. Too, "looking at him then, I saw him suddenly not only as a man I loved but, also, independently, as a strong and powerful master. I found, then, that I had squirmed in the ropes, inadvertently, reflexively, my thighs moving. I hoped that he had not noticed.

"What is wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing!" I said. I felt the heat of the slave in me. I hoped he could not detect the signs in my body~ I hoped he could not smell me.

He was silent.

"May I speak?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

"I gather," I said, "that, you intend to keep me."

"At least for a time," he said.

"I presume," I said, "that at least one of the purposes for Which you purchased me was to make use of me."

"Perhaps," he said.

"I am ready," I said. "Begin my slavery."

He regarded me, not speaking.

"You see me in a collar," I said, angrily. "You know what a collar does to a woman!"

He smiled.

"I have been owned," I said. "I have had masters. They have made me this way!" "So men do have their vengeance," he said. "The scheming beauty is needful." "Yes!" I said. "Speak clearly," he said. "I am needful," I said. "You are more than needful," he said.

"You may or may not believe I love you," I said, "but about my arousal, my need, there is no disputing."

"That is true," he said. "You are obviously, now, a needful slave." "Please," I begged.

He left the chair and, crouching beside me, not hurrying, freed me of the ropes. "Touch neither me nor yourself," he said.

"Yes, Master," I moaned. My body was flaming with He regarded me for a few moments. I moaned.

Then, for a brief moment, he took me in his arms. His hand was upon me, intimately. "I love you! I love you! I love youl" I cried, jerking in his hands, pressing against him, trying ~o cover him with kisses.

"Stop," he said. "To your belly."

Then I was on my belly, on the tiles, my hands at the sides of my head, prone, before his curule chair. He resumed his seat.

I lifted my head and upper body, wildly, agonized, to regard him.

"You are a hot slave," he said.

I regarded him wildly, pathetically, unbelievingly, speechlessly.

"Do you beg a man's touch?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, "yes!"

"Then beg," he said.

"I beg your touch," I wept. "I beg your touch! Please touch me, Master! I beg it!"

"Truly?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. "I beg your touch, truly, Master! I beg it, truly! Please, touch me, Master! Please! Please!"

"No," he said.

I collapsed then to the tiles, sobbing, helpless, quivering with need.

"And thus," said he, "may a hated slave be denied."

I then became aware that he had left his chair, that he was standing near me. to do go, do little to assuage the almost intolerable "passions he had aroused in me. I looked at him, piteously. He laughed, and left. Then I was kneeling there, bewildered, alone, chained. I was a slave I must await his return. He did not, of course, tell me where he was going or when he would be back.

"You understand, do you not," he asked, "that this is a symbolic re-enactment and that it in no way compromises your slavery?"

"Yes, Master," I said.

"For example," he said, "for your treatment of me in CorCyrus, and for various insolences, and lapses, you must still answer to me, and to my whip."

"Yes, Master," I said.

"You are now dressed, are you not," he asked, "fully in the garments of the Tatrix, even to the nature, the subtlety and delicacy of the undergarments?" "Yes," I said.

"And beneath those," he said, "in the eccentric undergarments of Earth, in garments similar to those which you, a barbarian, doubtless once wore there?" A? "Yes," I said. These undergarments had once' belonged to Sheila. They had been, brought to Argentum by Menicius, for the inquiry. I supposed that now, technically, they might be tho property of the state of Argentum, I, at any rate, did not own them. I could own nothing.

Rather it was I who was owned. Fortunately, Sheila and I were almost identically figured.

"Turn, Tatrix," said Drusus Rencius.

I turned, obediently, before him. He sat in the eurule chair, across, the room. I had been given the slave name, "Tatrix." I had been given no choice in the matter, and I must respond to it, perfectly.

"Good," he said. "Now walk back and forth, slowly."

I did so.

Many of the garments I wore had been those which I myself had worn, when I had been playing the role of the Tatrix. This pleased Drusus Rencius. He remembered me in them.

"Good," he said. "You may now stop."

I stood then again before him, facing him.

"Turn again," he said.

I did so.

"Good," he said.'

I wore no bond. He had even removed from me his collar. It hung now on the arm of the curule chair. There was no doubt, however, that I was a slave, or whose slave. I was. I was branded, and I was paid for.

"You will now strip yourself naked, slowly," he said. "I in-tend to enjoy this." I reached to the pins, at the side of the veil. One by one, I removed them. I then put the veil with its pins, to one side. I then, with both hands, putting back my head, brushed back the hood of the "robes. I shook my head and arranged my hair. I then faced Drusus Rencius, face-stripped.

"Continue," he said.'

One by one I removed' the garments of the Tatrix. Then I stood before him clad only in undergarments of Earth, in a brassiere and panties.

Drusus Rencius nodded.

I removed the brassiere, and straightened my body.

"Excellent," he said.

I faced him.

"Now remove the last veil," he said.

I bent down and, in a moment, stepped from the panties. I then, again, straightened myself before him. I hoped he liked what he saw. He owned it. "Superb," he said. "Superbi"

I smiled.

His face grew hard. "Kneel," he said.

Swiftly I knelt, in the position of the pleasure slave.

I swallowed, hard. I saw that he had no intention of permitting my beauty, if beauty it was, which had at one time apparently been so tormenting to him, when it had been inaccessible, diminish in any way the perfections of his mastery of me.

He went to a chest at the side of the room, and drew forth a small, gray garment, which he threw to me. I caught it against my body. I shook it out, happily. "You kept it, Master!"

I laughed, delighted. It was the brief slave tunic, sleeveless and gray, which I had worn in the house of Kliomenes, so long ago, in Corcyrus.

"Yes," he said, "for when you were my true slave."

"I love it!" I said. To some, I suppose, it would have seemed a scandalous rag, unseemly and degrading, but I found it very beautiful, not only because of the lovely and sensitive way in which it enhanced and displayed the beauty of the female figure but because of memories with which it was associated, memories which, for me, at least, were very precious.

"Put it on," be said.

Still kneeling, I drew it happily over my head. Then, slipped into it, I smoothed it down about my body.

"You are so beautiful," he said. "Stand."

I stood, and pulled it down more about my thighs. "It is rather short, though, isn't it?" I said.

"It will be shorter," he said, drawing out a knife.

"Master!" I protested, but he, with the knife, cutting and tearing, must have shortened it by at least two horts.

I looked down, dismayed.

"Later," he said, "sewing, smooth out the hem."

"But if I take up the hem," I said, "it will be even short" "Must a command be repeated?" he asked.

"No, my master!" I said.

He then stepped back, to regard me.'

I pulled down at the sides of the garment. If it had been much shorter I feared my brand might have shown!

"Stand straight," he said.

I did so, my hands at my side.

"A great improvement," he said. "Even though it is perhaps a bit long it is now, at least, within the normal ranges for slave lengths. Yes, I think it is now, even though a bit long, acceptable for a slave, even perhaps suitable for one. Before, of course, it was suitable, intentionally, only for a free woman pretending to be a slave."

"Turn," "he said.

I did so.

"Yes," he said, "I think it is now suitable, or will be, when you' have attended to the hem, shortening it still further."

I knew that I must learn to go forth in such garments, the garments of slaves. I stole a furtive glance at a mirror. The garment, I saw, to my pleasure, set me off beautifully, though, to be sure, as what I was, a slave.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"Yes!" I said.

"You may now remove it," he said, "and kneel again, as you were before, before me."

"Yes, Master," I said, He returned to the curule chair.

I was then again before him as I had been, naked and kneeling.

"You are aware, doubtless," he said, "that my feelings toward you are, or were, extremely complex."

"Yes, Master," I said. "And if I may speak of such matters, in my opinion, you have understood me very well in some things, and very little in others. Also, it seems you have sometimes wanted me to be, or expected me to be, things which I was not."

"Do you understand what we are doing here?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. It was now clear to me. He had seen me as a Tatrix, he had seen me stripped, he had seen me again in the garment, subsequently shortened to slave length, which I bad worn in the house of Kijomenes and in the room in the inn of Lysias.

"When we have completed this symbolic re-enactment," he said, "you, regardless of what you may or m~ not have been, will be, in my mind and in yours, my slave, in a modality which I find acceptable."

"Yes, Master," I said. I was, of course, already his slave, legally, totally, and in my heart. I suspected that he might now have come to sense this, but that he was not sure of it.

Accordingly, he would take no chances with me. I would be put through processes of enslavement, and rites of submission, the, outcome of which, no matter what might be my nature, motivations or dispositions, would be to make clear to me my condition, that I was, whatever I was, scheming woman or loving female, his slave, and totally.

"Three things will now be done to you, matter-of-factly, and in order," he said. I looked at him, puzzled.

"Down on all fours," he said, "and crawl here, head down, to the foot of the chair."

I did so and there, unceremoniously, he crouching down, behind me and to my left, I was collared. He was not gentle with me.

"Kneel back on your heels," he said, "and extend your arms, wrists crossed." I looked at him, startled, protestingly, as my wrists, with one end of a long leather strap, were lashed together.

"Stand up," he said. I was pulled to a position at the side of the room. The long end of the strap was tossed up, through a ring fixed in a beam, and then put through another ring. Drusus Rencius then drew on the strap and my bound wrists were drawn up, above my head. He then looped and knotted the long end of the strap about a hook, on the side. I then stood there, at the side of the room, naked, in the collar, my hands bound together, held over my head.

"Master," I said, "this is not like you! Where is your concern for me?" "Were you given permission to speak?" he asked.

"No, Master," I said. "Forgive me, Master!" I looked up at my bound hands. The strap was dark on them. I jerked at it. I could not free myself. I was tied in place. My entire body, suddenly, felt very bare, very exposed, very vulnerable. I looked over my shoulder. I was frightened. This was clearly a whipping position.

"Please, Master!" I whimpered.

"Kiss the whip," he said.

I did so, fearfully.

I recalled that only an Ahn before I had begged his lash, in my joy at learning myself his. I had pleaded for the stroke of the whip that I might, in my joy and pain, in tears, reveling, experience his dominance over me, and know myself his. Now, however, this seemed very different' I had been put in place as though I might have been anyone, any slave! Did I mean so little to him? Was I so unimportant?

Then behind me, before I was fully set for it, I heard the hiss of the five supple blades. I screamed, struck, sobbing! I knew he had not struck me with his full strength. I could tell that from the sound. Still my back seemed to burst into flame. The blades had seemed, too, to encircle me, scalding and tearing at me. "No more!" I begged. Then I was again struck.

Had I stolen a pastry? Had I not cleaned my kennel well enough? Had I not pleased some master well enough in the furs?

I was struck again.

"Oh," I sobbed, in misery.

Then twice more was I struck~ Drusus Renc~s did no~ much vary the locus of the impact nor the timing. He did not When he freed my hands of the strap I sank to my knees on the tiles under the ring.' I was half in shock. I knew he had not struck me with his full strength and, indeed, I had been struck only five times. It had been little or nothing as beatings go. Had I truly stolen a pastry, or done something displeasing, I would doubtless have been much more seriously beaten. The beating had been little more than informative in nature, not even really admonitory. Still I had felt it keenly. I had now felt the Gorean slave whip. No woman who has felt it ever forgets it. If I had had any doubts about the wisdom of being pleasing to masters these blows, few and light though they might have been, would have dispelled them. The beating had been little or nothing. Still, and I knew it, I had been under the whip.

He gave me scarcely a moment to recover. Then, crawling, swiftly, crying out, half dragged, I was pulled by the hair to the center of the room.

He knelt me there.

"Put your head down, to the floor," he said. "Clasp your hands, firmly, behind the back of your neck."

"Yes, Master," I moaned. He was then behind me. He put his hands, under my arms, on my breasts, sweetly and firmly. Then he moved his bands back, caressing my flanks. My head was down. My fingers were together, behind the back of my neck. I was in his collar. It was steel, I could not remove it. I belonged to him. My body hurt, from his whip, that of my master. My head hurt, from my hair, where I had been conducted, unceremoniously, to this location. "Please, Master," I sobbed. "Not like this! Not you, please!"

"The slave is pretty," he remarked.

"Oh!" I cried. "Oh!"

"You have a lovely ass," he said.

"Ohhh!" I said.

"You may thank me," he said.

"Thank you, Master!" I said. I tried not to move. It was difficult. "Please do not treat me like this. Please do not handle me like this!"

"I will do with you as I please," he said:

"Please do not make me yield like this, please! I love you!"

"Yield or not, as it pleases you," he said, unconcernedly.

Then I began to whimper and moan.

"Do not move," he said.

"Please," I begged.

"You are a slave, aren't you?" he asked. "And a natural one?"

"Yes, Master," I said. "Yes, Master!"

"Very well," he said, "you may move."

"I beg to yield!" I sobbed.

"Very well," he said.

I then, a few moments later, lay on my belly on the tiles. I tried to feel resentment toward Drusus Rencius. I failed.

I turned to my side and, the palms of my hands on the floor, regarded him. He was again sitting in the curule chair.

"You are now ready to begin your slavery," he said. "Your name is "Lita'." "Yes, Master," I said. I was now no longer "Tatrix." I was "Lita." would respond well to this name. It had many memories for me. It almost turned me inside out with love for Drusus Reneius.

"You may serve me wine, Lita," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said.

A few moments later I knelt, lovingly, at the side of the curule chair. Reucius held the goblet of wine. I had even been permitted to drink from it, from the side opposite to that which had touched his lips.

"I know that you may not believe this," I said, "and I do not wish to be struck for saying it, but I love you."

"Now that you are my slave, and are in my collar," he said, "it doesn't matter, one way or the other, does it?"

"I suppose not," I smiled. "But I do love you."

"I thought you might," he said.

"Why did you resist my advances in Corcyrus?" I asked.

"You were not toying with me?" he asked.

"No," I said.

"There were many reasons," he said. "There was a discrepancy in our stations. I thought you a Tatrix. I was only a soldier. Too, deception was involved in my post. I was truly serving Argentum, and Ar, not Corcyrus. Too, though in a part of me I recognized the slave in you the first time I laid eyes on you, in another part of me, I supposed you actually, in spite of the evidence of my senses, to be a free woman.

Thus, it was important, though it tortured me to do so under the circumstances, to accord you respect and dignity."

"Rather would you have accorded me force and mastery," I smiled.

"Yes," he said. "Too, do not forget that on a certain level, or in a certain part of me, I recognized that you were, rather clearly, a slave. How then could I admit to myself that I, a warrior of Ar, might have certain feelings toward one such as you, only a slave? Too, that I discerned your pettiness, your cruelty and shallowness, dissuaded me from honestly admitting my feelings to myself. I did not wish to regard myself as a fooL Further, of course, you, seemingly so haughty and mighty a Tatrix, treated me with injustice and scorn. It is little wonder I dreamed of you in my collar, in my chains, wider my whip~" "Does it still distress you that I am a slave?" I asked.

"No," he said.

"Even a natural slave?" I asked.

"No," he said.

"You lost a silver tarsk to Publius on the matter," I reminded him.

"It was a bet which, in my heart, I hoped to lose," he said.

I licked at his knee, slowly, lovingly. Then I looked up at him.

He put down the goblet on the tiles, to the right of the chair.

He took my head between his hands, those large, strong hands.

"You are a superb natural slave," he said.

"Forgive me, Master," I said.

"I do not object," he said.

"Good," I said.

"In fact, it pleases me," he said.

"Good," I whispered.

He held my head between his hands, like it was that of a dog.

"Do some men care for their slaves," I asked, "just a little?"

"Some men care for them much more than a little," he said.

"Even natural slaves?" I asked.

"Those are the best sort," he said.

"I am glad to hear it," I said.

"In every woman," he said, "if one can but find it, I believe there is a natural slave."

"I believe it is true, Master," I said.

Then I felt myself drawn to his lips, and I was drawn half into the chair, and then he, holding my head, not releasing it, turned, and I felt myself moved backwards and to the side, to f my knees, before the chair, and then he was crouching before me, and then I felt myself being lowered backwards to the floor. "I love you," I whispered. "I love you, my masteri"

"Do I make you weak?" I asked. I lay now on love furs, at the foot of his couch. He had put a chain on my neck.

"No," he said.

I leaned over, and kissed him, delicately, intimately.

"Aiii!" he said.

"I see that my master speaks the truth," I said.

"She-sleen!" he said, and then, with a rattle of chain, threw me again beneath him.

"I would be a hundred slaves to you," I whispered, "a thousand!" "You are," he whispered. "You are."

"Doubtless master is tired now," I said, "and should rest. I will stop." "Not yet! Not yet!" he said.

"Very well," I said.

"Insatiable slut!" he growled. "Do you think I am made of iron?" "It seemed so," I said.

"Desist," he said.

"Yes, Master," I laughed. It was hard for me to keep my hands off Dnisus Rencius. He was so beautiful. I snuggled down beside him, my head at his hip. I kissed his hip. Then I lay there, quietly, beside him. "I am not disturbing you now, am I?" I asked.

"No," he said.

"Would you like to rest now?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. His hand was in my hair.

"Would you like me to relax you?" I asked.

"Very well," he said.

I crawled to my knees.

In a few moments, he said, "Is that your idea, as how to relax a man?" I laughed, and continued my work, lovingly.

"Obviously you have been trained," he said.

"I am not one of those women who thinks her part in making love is finished when she lies, down," I said.

"That is clear," he said. The slave, of course, is not permitted the ignorance, inertness and mediocrity of the free woman. She must serve marvelously and totally. Nothing less is permitted her.

"I am a woman of many talents," I assured him.

"Doubtless," he said, half moaning.

"I have attended school," I informed him. "And I am a skilled feast slave. I am also skilled at weaving on a mill loom."

"Marvelous," he gasped.

"Shall I stop now?" I asked.

"Continue," he said.

"But I thought you wished to rest?" I said.

He looked at me, menacingly.

"I shall continue," I said. "I would certainly not wish for a command to have to be repeated. That would be a reflection on my discipline. Too, I have no wish to be beaten twice in one day."

"I wonder who is the master and who is the slave," he said.

"You are the master, and I am the slave," I said. "I am clear on that." "Would you care to mount me?" he asked.

Eagerly I did so.

"Are you now Mistress?" he asked.

"Whatever Master wishes," I laughed. I sensed, suddenly, what might be the sensations of power and pleasure a woman might experience, putting a male to her use, before she was restored to the order of nature, and her servitude. "Would you truly permit me this?" I asked.

"Of course," he said, "but, later, we will do it somewhat differently." "Yes, Master," I said, puzzled.

Then, to my amazement and delight, grinding and tensing, I watching him closely, I transformed him into a squirming slave beneath me, and then, when it pleased me, took his yielding from him.

Later in the afternoon, when we had rested, and he had had food brought in, and we had eaten, he put me again in such a place, but this time I must face his feet and my hands were held behind me. In such a way, sometimes, a captured free woman, stripped, is placed backwards on a kaijia, her hands bound behind her. This is usually done only when she is being led to slavery. In such a way, then, he used me. My slavery was again well impressed upon me. This type of position, it might be mentioned, is also used by Gorean masters with the woman facing forward, when he can see her face, but with her hands tied, say, before her or behind her, or at her collar, bound either with actual thongs or, most cruelly, "by his will," that form of "tie" in which a woman must keep her hands in a given position, for example, holding them as if bound, or, say, keeping them on her hips or clasped behind the back of her neck. If she breaks such a position, of course, she is subject. to terrible discipline. She must then, as he lies slothful' and' recumbent beneath her, at his ease, observing her, perhaps amused, writhe upon command and thus serve, and eventually cap, his volcano. Later he taught me this sort of thing first-hand. He used the' collar tie and, mercifully with real thongs' when he was finished I had not only learned again that I Was a slave but that this general sort of position, even with the female facing forward, has no intrinsic connection with female dominance. He had let me experience it in that fashion to see what it was like. He had then returned me to total bondage.

"Master," I said.

"Yes," he said.

"I have been doing a great deal of thinking," I said.

"Is that what you have been doing?" he asked.

"I mean, in the last few Ehn," I said.

"Yes?" he said.

"I have learned my collar," I said.

"Good," he said.

"You have taught it to me well," I said.

He shrugged. The Goreans have a theory that any man can teach a woman her collar, and perfectly.

"But was it necessary," I asked, "that you used me as you did earlier, after you had whipped me?"

"How was that?" he asked.

"Master!" I protested. Then I saw that he wished to make me speak. "when you made me kneel, with my head down," I said, embarrassed.

"No," he said. "It was not necessary."

"Then why did you do it?" I asked.

"It amused me," he said.

"Surely there was more to it than, that," I said.

"Yes," he said, "it is a useful way to show a woman, one who may be proud, or not clear on the matter, that she is a slave."

"I see," I said. "I find it difficult to forget the experience." "Oh?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Doubtless you were appropriately degraded and shamed," he said.

"No," I said. "To be sure," I said, "it was instructive, but, as I recall it now, I found it very loving and exciting."

"You liked it?" he asked.

"Doubtless it brought my slavery home to me," I said, carefully.

"I would think so," he said. "It would doubtless be difficult to continue to think of oneself as a free woman after having been used in that fashion." "I liked it," I said, suddenly.

"That is interesting," he said. The beast! He knew I had almost screamed with submission and pleasure!

"Are slaves often used in such a fashion?" I asked, as though unconcerned. "Sometimes," he said.

"Might I ever again be put under such a discipline?" I asked.

"Perhaps," he said. I looked at him.

"Perhaps if you beg prettily enough," he said.

"I will," I smiled. "I will!"

"Do you recall the position?" he asked. "Yes," I said.

"Speak," he said.

"The girl kneels, with her head down, her hands clasped behind her neck," I said.

"You recall the position perfectly," he admitted.

"Yes," I said.

"Assume it," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said, joyfully.

"Thank you, Master," I said, softly; lying in his arms, thanking him for his touch. It is now evening. Again he had gone to the door and summoned a slave. Again we had had food brought in and had, again, eaten.

"Ohhhh," I said softly. "Thank you. Thank you, Master. You are my master. You are my Master! Thank you. Thank you, my master."

Then, later, he held me closely.

"Master," I said.

"Yes?" he said.

"I have often wondered what was the meaning of a golden cage, and why I, when thought a Tatrix, was placed in one."

"The gold," said he, "is a precious metal, is thought perhaps fitting for a free woman, in particular for one of high station, and certainly for a Tatrix. That it is a cage, on the other hand, signifies that she is taken to be, in actuality, no better than a slave, and only fit to be a slave. To place her in such a cage is then to make a clear statement as to her true and rightful nature."

"I see," I said. "And doubtless the goldensack is of similar import." "Yes," He said.

"Yet Hassan enslaved Sheila before placing her in such a sack."

"True," he said, "and that she as a mere slave was yet placed in such a sack must have induced exquisite emotions m her, emotions of fear, of outrage and humiliation."

"Doubtless," I said.

"It was a. joke on the part of Hassan," he said, "an exquisite one." "Doubtless," I said.

"But doubtless, too," he said, "it served a useful purpose in her on-going training."

"Doubtless," I said.

"But doubtless, too," he laughed, "it seemed an appropriate modality, did it not, in which to transport a former Tatrix to Argentum?"

"Yes," I said. I shuddered.

"But I think you need not fear confinement now in golden cages or golden sacks," he said.

"Cages formed of simple, sturdy bars of black iron and deep, doubly-sewn sacks of heavy, plain leather, black and thick, tied or locked shut, will now serve well enough for you, confinements suitable to the more common slave you now are."

"Yes, Master," I laughed. Such devices would suffice quite well, surely, for a common girl such as I now was.

"Master," I said.

"Yes?" he said.

"Read me my collar," I begged, "please."

"I showed it to you before," he said. "You should have read it for yourself." "You are teasing me," I pouted. "You know I cannot read."

"Not even your collar?" he asked.

"No," I said.

"Well," he said, "do not worry about it. It is not necessary for you to be able to read your collar. All that is necessary, from your point of view, is that it is locked on you, that you cannot remove it, and that it can be read by free men."

"Are you going to teach me to read?" I asked.

"Such skills would seem to have a very low priority," he said. "For example, can you play the kalika?"

"No," I said.

"Do you know the exercises and luscious movements of slave dance?" he asked. "Not really," I said.

"So why should you be taught to read?" he asked.

"I could spy on your mail," I said.

"I had not considered that," he admitted "It could improve my price," I said. "That is probably true," he said.

"Many men," I said, "enjoy having a girl who can read. It gives them pleasure to make her serve as well, or better, than an illiterate girl."

"I shall think about it," he said.

"Thank you, Master," I said. Whether I would learn to read or not was not up to me. In final analysis, it was up to masters. It would be done with me as they wished.

"Tell me, please," I asked, "what is on my collar."

"A speck of dust," he said. "There, I have removed it."

"Please," I said.

"It is simple," he said. "It says, "I belong to Drusus Reneius, of Ar.' I kissed him. "It speaks the truth not only of my legal condition," I said, "but of my heart."

He then, again, began to touch me. "Thank you, Master I breathed, again. I did not know whether or nor I would be taught to read. Then, in a few moments, gently, softly, I began again to yield to him.

I lay on one elbow, regarding Drusus Rencius. "What did you pay for me?" I asked.

"It is not important," he said.

"I am curious to know," I said.

"Curiosity is not becoming in a Kajira," he said.

"Nonetheless," I said, "we are notoriously curious. Doubtless the saying would not otherwise have gained such wide currency."

"That is probably true," he said.

"I would like to know," I said.

What is the difference of a coin or two?" he asked.

"I know it was not much," I said.

"Oh?" he asked.

I laughed merrily, and he reddened. I knew I had triumphed!

"You paid for me!" I laughed. "You know what you paid! What did I cost you? What did I bring Miles of Argentum!"

"I do not recall," he said.

"Miles of Argentum," I laughed, "when he saw me in Corcyrus, thought I would bring a whole silver tarsk! He, then, too had only seen me fully clothed, clad in the full regalia of the Tatrix. Only my face had been unveiled! Had he seen me naked he might have raised his estimate! Too, suppose he had seen me in a posture of submission or had had me writhe at his feet in slave chains! Suppose he had put me through detailed and methodical slave paces, or had had me bring him the whip in my teeth!"

"Perhaps he would have added a copper tarsk or so to your price," speculated Drusus Rencius.

"Who knows?"

"You yourself," I said, slyly, maliciously, "in Corcyrus, as I recall, conjectured that I would probably bring only between fifteen and twenty copper tarsks."

"That seems about right," he said. "In a normal market, under normal conditions, of course."

"But that was untrained," I said. "Subsequently I was trained."

"Yes," he said, "that is true. I suppose it would be only fair to improve your price by a copper tarsk or so in virtue of such a consideration."

"But suppose a man particularly wanted a woman," I said. "Suppose she was, for some reason, very special to him. Perhaps she had been cruel to him. Perhaps he mightily desired her. He might then be tempted to pay at least a little more, might he not, to obtain her?"

"I suppose so," said Drusus Rencius, irritatedly.

"What did you pay?" I asked.

"It doesn't really make a difference, does it?" he asked.

"I suppose not," I said, "but I would like to know."

"I do not recall," he growled.

"Miles of Argentum," I said, "truly at one time believed me, and with good reason, from his point of view, to be the Tatrix of Corcyrus. For that reason he paid fifteen tarsks for me, fifteen silver tarsks."

"What an idiot," said Drusus Rencius, darkly.

I laughed. "Fortunately he was your friend," I said, "and for that reason would cheerfully accept a considerable loss in my resale."

"I paid more than fifteen silver tarsks for you," said Drusus Rencius. I clapped my hands with pleasure. "I knew it must be 50!" I laughed. The face of Drusus Rencius was black with rage.

"what did you pay!" I asked. "what did you pay!"

"More than twenty tarsks," he said, angrily. "How much!" I demanded. "How much!" "I paid fifty silver tarsks for you!" he said, furiously. "Fifty!" I cried. "Yes!" he cried, in fury.

"Wonderful!" I laughed. "That is wonderful!" He scowled at me fiercely. "I am surely the poorest investment a man has ever made in a slave girl," I laughed. "You will have to keep me forever. You will never recoup that loss!" "Oh!" I cried, thrown to my stomach on the love furs.

Then my legs were thrust apart. Then as I gasped and clutched at the furs, almost before I could move, from behind, handled like the slave I was, I was pinioned, held and entered.

"You need not fear I will sell you," he said. "I have waited long to possess you."

I squirmed, impaled.

"And do not worry about the economic aspects of the matter," he said. "You are going to make your sales price up to me in value, aren't you?"

"Yes," I said, "a thousand times!"

"Is that all?" he asked.

"A thousand times a thousand times!" I gasped.

"Is that all?" he asked.

"And more, and more, and more!" I cried.

"You will now move as I direct," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said. "Yes, Master!"

"I love you. I love you. I love you!" I moaned. "I love you so much I could die with the love of you."

Then his lips were again upon me.

It was now in the early light of morning. In a few hours he would leave for Ar. I would accompany him, perhaps even in his chains, his.

"You are doing it to me again!" I moaned.

"Be quiet," he whispered.

Then I melted to him again, soft and lost, held, in his arms, and then he swept me up again, willless, his collared slave, like a swirling leaf high into the clouds of ecstasy, and love.