She regarded me.
"Often," I said, "the girl merely fears the leather, or is wary of it, and, hoping to give it a wide berth, behaves herself accordingly. For most practical purposes she knows that if she behaves in certain ways she will not feel it, and if she behaves in other ways, she will feel it. It is almost like a law of nature. It is always there, of course, in the background, and she knows that she is subject to it. Similarly, of course, even in her deepest love, she knows that, ultimately, her very life is dependent on the whim of her master. She can be thrown to sleen, at a word from him, if he wishes."
"We are so owned," she whispered.
"Sometimes," I said, "girls, some girls, who are not sure of their slavery, and its limits, will test their masters."
"Oh?" she said.
"Like you," I said.
"I?" she asked, startled.
"And the masters are not found wanting," I said. "The beauty is quickly reassured as to the existence of boundaries."
"I?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"Do you think I want to be limited and controlled?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"That is absurd," she said. She rolled over on her back, on the dark robes, and threw her bound wrists over her head.
"You were not sure that you were really Canka's slave," I said. "You wished reassurance."
The beauty moved angrily. She did not answer.
"Have no fear, Winyela," I said. "The collar, as you have no doubt by now discovered, is truly knotted on your neck."
I looked at her small feet, at those trim ankles, at the sweet calves of her, her thighs, her belly, her breasts, the neck and shoulders, her throat, in Canka's collar, her profile, the lovely red hair, behind her on the robes.
"You are looking at me, are you not?" she said.
"Yes," I said.
"I hate men," she said. She quickly half sat, half knelt, on the robes, her bound hands on the robes.
"No, you do not," I said. "You hate yourself, or something ugly in yourself, probably left over from Earth, that sick world from which you have come."
She threw herself on her side, facing me, her legs pulled up, her bound hands before her. "I am miserable," she said.
"You were confused," I said. "You only wanted to be put in your place."
"My place?" she said.
"Yes," I said, "your place, your place in the order of nature, that of a female at the feet of her master."
She did not respond.
"But it is a dangerous game," I said. "I would beware of playing it with Goreans. Suppose Canka had given you to boys, as a target for their arrows, or had rubbed you with blood, your own, and had set sleen on you."
"I am going to run away," she said, sullenly. She rose, angrily, to her feet. I noted how her small feet pressed in the robes.
"I would not advise it," I said.
"Oh?" she asked.
"There is nowhere to run," I said.
She walked angrily to the other side of the lodge, and then turned to face me, her bound wrists held then at her waist. She was beautiful. "It is true," she said, angrily. "There is nowhere to run." She looked down, at her left thigh. "I am even branded," she said, "like an animal."
"Like the animal you are," I said.
"Yes," she said, bitterly, "—like the animal I am."
"Kneel," I said, indicating a place before me, before where I sat, cross-legged, on the robes.
She knelt.
"Back on your heels," I said, "with your knees widely spread."
She complied.
"Put your shoulders back," I said. "Thrust your breasts out. Hold your wrists at your waist."
She complied.
I examined her. She was not only beautiful. She was very beautiful.
"This is my reality, is it not," she said, "that of a slave, at the bidding of men?"
"Yes," I said. "It is."
"May I lower my wrists?" she asked. "May I close my knees?"
"Yes," I said. Swiftly, she did so.
"I did not think that Canka would beat me," she said.
"Why not?" I asked.
"I thought he liked me," she said. Her wrists looked well, bound, atop her closed thighs.
"I suspect he does," I said.
"He beat me," she said, poutingly.
"You are a slave," I explained.
"I thought he liked me," she said.
"I would suppose that he does," I said. "Hitherto, at any rate, he has treated you with great lenience. That, in my opinion, was a mistake on his part. That lenience, if I am not mistaken, you will discover to have vanished. You will now discover, if I am not mistaken, that your life in his lodge will now be rather different."
"Different?" she asked.
"The discipline to which you will now find yourself subjected, I suspect," I said, "will leave you in little doubt as to your bondage. It will be unswerving, precise and exact. If you depart from the narrow line of slave perfection by so much as a hort you may expect a cuffing, or the lash."
She looked at me, with horror.
"In short," I said, "you will be subjected to exactly the sort of discipline which women such as you want, and need."
She put her head down, angrily. She moved her wrists in the unyielding bonds.
"How do you feel about Canka?" I asked.
She lifted her head, angrily. "I hate him!" she said. "He beat me!"
"Yes, he did," I said, "and well."
"I hate him!" she said.
"You wanted him to beat you," I said.
"But I did not think he would!" she said.
"You were mistaken," I said.
"Yes," she said, "I was mistaken."
"An interesting, if painful experiment, on your part, Winyela," I observed.
"I did not really think of it as an experiment," she said, "at least not consciously, or fully consciously."
"But it seems, rather clearly, to have been one," I said.
"Perhaps," she said.
"I do not think it will be necessary to repeat it," I said.
"No," she said, shuddering, "no."
"What have you learned from your little experiment?" I asked.
"That I am truly a slave," she said.
"And what else?" I asked.
"That my master is strong," she said.
"I do not think you will be permitted, from now on, to get away with any laxity, or imperfection, in your service," I said.
"No," she said. "I do not think so."
"It must be a very frightening thing, to belong to a strong master," I said.
"Yes," she said.
"But then a true slave would not wish it any other way," I said.
"No," she said. "That is true."
"You are satisfied, now," I asked, "that the uncompromising and categorical domination for which you yearn will be applied to you?"
"Yes," she said.
"That you are truly Canka's slave?"
"Yes," she said. "But I am afraid now that he may not like me any longer, that I may have irritated or offended him."
"As you hate him," I said, "what does it matter?"
"Hate him?" she asked. "I love him. I love him, more than anything!"
"But he beat you," I said.
"I was an errant slave," she said. "Of course I would be punished!"
"I see," I said.
"But I am afraid he does not like me any longer," she wept.
"Why?" I asked.
"He was cold to me," she said.
"He was probably angry," I said.
"Do you think he will give me away?" she asked.
"I do not know," I said.
She put down her head, sobbing. She was only an article of property. She could change hands as easily as a pair of moccasins or a kaiila.
"I displeased him," she said. "How absurd and stupid I was."
"Does Canka know that you are here?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
"Were you ordere
d to report here?" I asked.
"I had to talk to someone," she said. "I would have come anyway."
"Were you ordered to report here?" I asked.
"Yes," she said. I had thought that that might be the case.
"Why?" I asked.
"He has set me an additional punishment," she said, straightening her body, putting back her shoulders, thrusting out her breasts, sucking in her gut, kneeling back on her heels, spreading her knees widely, and lifting her crossed, thonged wrists to her waist, "—Master."
I let her retain this posture, that she might fully understand it.
"I note that your wrists are bound," I said.
"Yes," she said.
"I had thought that that might be only a bit of extra discipline," I said. "I had not known, earlier, from your behavior, that you had been sent to report to this lodge."
She put her head down.
"You wished to talk," I said.
"Yes," she whispered.
"That is permissible," I said.
"Thank you," she said, "—Master."
"To wish to talk is permissible," I said. "Actually to talk, of course, whether you are given permission to speak, or not, is up to the master."
"Yes, Master," she said.
I regarded her. She was quite lovely.
"Master," she said.
"Yes," I said.
"I was not ordered merely to report to this lodge," she said. "I was ordered to report to you."
"Not to Cuwignaka?" I asked.
"No," she said.
"To me, personally," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Do you know what it means," I asked, "when a woman is sent to report to a man, and she is naked, and in bonds?"
"I am not familiar with Gorean ways," she said.
"Is the symbolism not obvious?" I asked.
"That she is placed at his disposal," she said, "in bondage."
"Of course," I said.
"Then regard me before you," she said, "placed at your disposal, in bondage."
"Interesting," I said.
"Interesting?" she said.
"Yes," I said.
"Why?" she asked.
"You are a beautiful slave," I said, "and the slave of a high warrior, one who has, even, served as Blotanhunka, a war-party leader, of the All Comrades."
She tossed her head.
"You are supposedly worth even five hides of the yellow kailiauk," I said. "That is what Grunt was supposed to receive for you, for your delivery to Mahpiyasapa."
She looked away.
"So, why, then," I asked, "have you been sent here, to be put at the disposal of one who is, like yourself, only a slave?"
"I am being punished," she said. "I have my orders." She looked at me. "Punish me," she said.
"What were your orders?" I asked.
She looked down.
"Speak them," I said.
"I am to report to you," she said. "I am to present myself before you, and as a female slave. I am to beg you to act as my master, for the afternoon. I am to serve you, and be pleasing, fully, in any and every way that you might desire, and I am to yield to you, withholding nothing, with the perfection of a female slave to her master."
"And I, only a slave," I marveled.
"Yes!" she said, tears in her eyes.
"It is a superb punishment," I admitted.
"Yes," she said, miserably, "it is superb!"
"You will be, in effect," I said, "the slave of a slave."
"Yes," she said, angrily.
"This thought seems to disturb you," I observed.
"I am a slave girl," she said. "I am the rightful property of free men, not slaves."
"Proud slave," I said.
"Canka well knows how to reduce me," she said. Then she looked at me. "Begin my punishment," she said.
"Report," I said.
She looked at me, in fury.
"Keep your back straight," I said.
"I am Winyela," she said, "the slave of Canka, of the Isbu Kaiila. On the orders of my master I herewith report myself to you. I present myself before you, a female slave. I beg you to be my acting master, for the afternoon."
"Very well," I said.
"I am now yours, for the afternoon," she said. "Do with me as you will."
"I doubt that Canka truly wants me to have you," I said. "Besides, I think you have been punished enough."
She looked at me, startled.
"Give me your wrists," I said.
She extended her wrists, and I unbound them, refastening the thongs, like a bracelet, on her left wrist.
"Lie down here," I said, "on the hides. Rest. After a time, I will take you back to the lodge of Canka."
"Do you not want me?" she asked.
"To see you is to want you," I said.
"You may have me," she said.
"You love Canka," I said, "and you are his."
I then covered her with a smaller hide.
"It is not cold," she said, smiling.
"I am only human," I said. "Do not weaken my resolves."
"Forgive me, Master," she smiled. Then, worn from her ordeals of the day, she was asleep.
I looked at her slender, luscious figure, under the hide. I clenched my fists. Then I left the lodge.
Outside the lodge, I saw Cuwignaka, on his knees, scraping at a pegged-down hide.
"Where is Winyela?" he asked.
"Inside, asleep," I said.
"I think she has had a hard day," he said.
"I am sure of it," I laughed.
"How was she?" he asked.
"I do not know," I said. "I let her sleep."
"But she was sent here to report to you, was she not?" asked Cuwignaka, pausing in his work.
"Yes," I said.
"Surely you did not neglect to note that she was naked and bound."
"No," I said. "Such details did not escape my attention."
"Do you know what it means," asked Cuwignaka, "when a woman is ordered to report to a man, and she is naked and bound?"
"I have some idea," I admitted.
"And you let her sleep?"
"Yes," I said.
"Why do you think Canka sent her to you?" he asked.
"I am not truly sure," I said.
"She had just been beaten," said Cuwignaka.
"Yes," I said.
"Is it not obvious, then, that this was intended as an addition to her punishment, that she, a slave, would then have to serve one who was also only a slave, and as her master?"
"Perhaps," I said.
"A splendidly humbling experience for a female slave," said Cuwignaka, "and one that teaches her her meaninglessness, and worthlessness, superbly."
"Perhaps," I said.
"And you did not use her."
"No," I said.
"In this you have doubtless not fulfilled the will of Canka," said Cuwignaka.
"Do you truly think he wanted me to have her?" I asked.
"Certainly," said Cuwignaka.
"But she loves him," I said.
"What difference could that possibly make?" asked Cuwignaka.
"And does he not love her?" I asked.
"Yes," said Cuwignaka. "But he will want her sent back to his lodge as a better slave."
"I think she has been punished enough," I said.
"A bold decision for one to make who is only a slave," smiled Cuwignaka.
I grinned. "Perhaps," I said.
"Besides," said Cuwignaka, "Canka likes you."
"I, too, like him," I said.
"He knows that you are a strong man, and that you need a woman."
I shrugged.
"You wear a collar," said Cuwignaka. "It is frustrating for you in the camp. You cannot even touch a nude, white female slave without permission, taking her from her work in dressing skins or sewing."
"There is Wasnapohdi," I said.
"But she is often elsewhere," said Cuwignaka, "and Grunt, for purposes of business, often c
onsigns her to others, sometimes for more than a day or two."
"That is true," I said.
"So why should you object," asked Cuwignaka, "if Canka, in his friendship for you, in a suitable context, for an afternoon, makes you a present of Winyela?"
"I do not object," I laughed. "It is only that I think, today, at least, she has been punished enough."
"That seems to be Canka's decision, not yours," said Cuwignaka.
"Doubtless you are right," I said. "He is her master."
"And you let her sleep!" scoffed Cuwignaka.
"Yes," I said.
"How tender-hearted you are!" he laughed.
"Perhaps," I said. It had been a long time since anyone had accused me of that.
Cuwignaka bent again to his work, with the bone scraper. "What are you thinking about?" he asked.
"I wonder what Wasnapohdi is doing," I said.
Cuwignaka laughed. "She is probably doing what I am doing, scraping skins."
"Do you want any help?" I asked.
"No," said Cuwignaka. "This is woman's work."
I laughed. This response, a joke on Cuwignaka's part, is a commonplace among the red savages. The offer of a man to help with a woman's tasks is almost always refused. The man has his work, the woman hers. The gender of a task commonly has a plausible rationale. It seems to be the men, for example, who are best suited to be the warriors and the women who are best suited to be the lovely, desirable prizes of such warriors. Similarly it seems men, with their strength, aggressiveness and size, would be better suited for the hunt, pursuing the swift, trident-horned, belligerent kailiauk at full speed than the slighter, softer women, and that the women, with their patience, their sense of color, with their small, nimble fingers, would be better suited to exacting, fine tasks such as beadwork and sewing. Similarly, it is natural to expect that the general, sex-linked orientations and predispositions, statistically obvious, both male and female, of human beings, presumably functions of genetic and hormonal differences, would tend to be reflected, broadly, in the sorts of tasks which each sex tends to perform most efficiently and finds most congenial.
Some tasks, of course, from the biological point of view, may be sex-neutral, so to speak. Whether sex-neutral tasks exist or not is an interesting question. Such a task would seem to be one in which the sexual nature of a human being, with all its attendant physiological and psychological consequences, was irrelevant.
It seems likely that sex-neutral tasks, at least of an interesting nature, do not exist. We shall suppose, however, for the purposes of argument, that there do exist such tasks. Let us suppose, for example, that the cutting of leather for moccasins is such a task. Now among the red savages this task, supposedly sex-neutral, for the purposes of argument, is always, or almost always, performed by females. This calls attention to an interesting anthropological datum. The performance of even tasks which may be "sex-neutral," tasks that do not seem to have an obvious biological rationale with respect to gender, tends to be divided, in culture after culture, on a sexual basis. Similarly, interestingly, whether for historical reasons or not, these cultures tend to be in substantial agreement on the divisions. For example, in almost all cultures, though not all, loom weaving is a female task. This tends to suggest that it is important in these cultures that sexual differences, in one way or another, be clearly marked.
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