"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 it, Master," I said. "I have never been taught to read."
"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 hands 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, much like the ability to play a musical instrument or to dance, or to cook and sew. Some men enjoy owning educated slaves and some do not. Needless to say, the slave, when she is in the power of a Gorean master, whether she is educated or not, will serve as a full slave. Indeed, most men expect far more of an educated slave than of one who is not educated.
He then went behind me, again.
"Lift your hair," he said.
"What are you going to do?" I asked.
"Must a command be repeated?" he inquired.
Swiftly I thrust up my hair, baring the back of my neck. My hair, at least, extending over my nape, was now long enough to require this.
"What are you going to do?" I asked. I felt the steel of the collar under my chin, then its being adjusted on my neck.
"Put you in this collar," he said. Then he snapped it shut. I was collared.
"By what right?" I asked.
"You may lower your hands," he said.
I did so, brushing my hair back over the steel. "By what right?" I asked. I did not dare turn to face him.
"By every right," he said.
I was bitter. "Doubtless you told my master, Miles of Argentum, of the results of your experiment last night, that in which I was conclusively proven to be a natural slave."
"I did see him last night," said Drusus Rencius.
"I see," I said, bitterly.
"But he has had you leaping in his arms, several times, apparently last night, and earlier, on various days," he said. "I told him nothing he did not already know."
"I see," I said. Last night, after I had served Publius and Drusus Rencius, I had been ordered to the couch of Miles of Argentum. There, in spite of my feelings and my distress, I had been forced, three times, to serve him well. The last time, unable to help myself, I had cried out, surrendering myself totally to him. Miles of Argentum, as is his wont, such a man, when he wishes, takes everything from a woman. I had then, a few Ehn afterwards, been sent back to the slave quarters. Apparently it had been later the same night, perhaps in the neighborhood of the Twentieth Ahn, when Drusus Rencius had seen him. I had not seen him since earlier this morning, when I had knelt before him, kissing his feet, gratefully, for his attentions to me last night, and he had, without explanation, removed my clothing and my collar. I had then been permitted to go to the courtyard, that I might see my friends off. Drusus Rencius had probably been informed that he might find me here.
"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.
* * * *
I 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 larl. It seemed he could not wait to get me alone. Many times was I hurried, pushed and thrust from behind. 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, head to the rear, 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 gestures, in movements, in seemingly careless proximities, in seeming inadvertencies, 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 Rencius.
I lay 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 a 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 of trepidation. How much more so, then, must this be the case 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 he 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 sleen? 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."
"And when are you to be whipped?" he asked.
"Whenever my master pleases," I whispered.
"The answer is suitable," he said.
"And doubtless if I am in the least bit displeasing," I said.
"Surely," said he. "And?"
"And I suppose," said I, "I must occasionally be whipped—"
"Yes?"
"—if only to remind me that I am a slave."
"It is a useful way to help a girl remember such things."
"Yes, Master," I said.
"A slave must not be allowed to forget that she is a slave," said he.
"I think she is in little danger of forgetting it, Master," I opined.
"What does the whip mean to you?" he asked.
"Many things, I suppose," I said. "Certainly it tells me that I am a slave, and am owned."
"How different is the slave from the free woman," he said.
"Master?"
"It would be unthinkable," said he, "to whip a free woman."
"Certainly, Master, unthinkable," I said. I almost shuddered with the absurdity of the thought. Free women were so different from me, with their ornate garmenture, their imperious bearing, their regal carriage, their pride, their insolence, their position, their status, their power. Yet I supposed that most free women, beneath those cumbersome concealments, those manifold layers, and diverse veils, and stiff, unpleasant battlements of brocade, were not much different from slaves, except perhaps that they had not yet been dieted and exercised—that in such a manner as to make them healthy, graceful, and shapely commodities for the delectation of men.
"She may behave according to her whim and wont," said he. "With her deceits, and blandishments, and charms, she may with impunity do much what she wishes, even destroy men. No matter what she does, she is never punished."
"Yes, Master."
I thought that that was much the way it was, too, with the free women of my world.
"But you are not a free woman," he said.
<
br /> "No, Master," I said.
"You must then," said he, "be concerned with the nature of your behavior."
"Yes, Master," I said.
"If you are not fully pleasing, what must you expect?" he asked.
"Correction surely, discipline, punishment," I said. Gor was very different from Earth, and free women from slaves.
"To be sure," said he, "more than one free woman has found herself in a man's collar."
"Yes, Master," I said. Surely I was in one. The arrogances, privileges and impunities of the days of Sheila, Tatrix of Corcyrus, were well behind me.
"Do you fear the whip?" he asked.
"Certainly, Master," I said.
"Do you think I would be reluctant to use it?" he asked.
"No, Master," I said. "And surely no girl wants a weak master. I want you to be strong with me. I want that. I need that. To what other sort of man could a girl wish to submit herself, in trembling, in hope, in gladness and gratitude? And I have little doubt that you are the sort of man who will fulfill the deepest slave needs of a human female, that you will keep a girl in the strictest of disciplines, but, I hope, in one that is fair, and loving."
"Fairness is not owed to a slave," he said.
"Forgive me, Master," I said.
"And you, no more than a slave, dare to speak of loving?"
"Forgive me, Master," I said.
"You were an enemy," he said.
"Please, Master, never, Master!" I said.
"And you were petty, proud, and pretentious, and you took delight in discomfiting me," he said, "putting yourself near to me, speaking lightly, condescendingly, carelessly, and how you moved, as though unaware of what you were doing, those little gestures, and turnings, and then again putting yourself near to me, sometimes so near to me, as though inadvertently!"
"Forgive me, Master."
"You knew well what you were doing!"
"Forgive me, Master!"
"Surely you were aware of how such proximities, such behaviors, enflame a man, how they make him want to take that woman in his arms, force her to him, hold her helplessly, possess her, master her!"
"We sense such things," I said.
"But it seems such sensings did not deter you in your cruel sport!"
"Certainly not," I said. "Why should they? It is one of the pleasures of being a woman. It is pleasant to provoke men, to arouse them, to make them uneasy and miserable, and then refuse to quench the flames we have deliberately ignited. We are women. It is one of our pleasures. We enjoy tormenting men!"
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