Guardsman Of Gor

Chapter 17 — THE COIN GIRL; I DISMISS HER

It is called the Street of the Writhing Slave. It is dark and narrow, and not far from the wharves. It has its name from the fact that most renters of, and dealers in, Coin Girls in Victoria, keep their kennels on this street. The girls of the day, designated by a coiled whip pressed against their left shoulder, wearing their neck chains, with the attached bell and coin box, are sent into the streets in the late afternoon and expected to return before the nineteenth Ahn. And woe to the girl who does not return with a jangling coin box on her neck chain!

Some girls, once designated, and locked in their accouterments, kneeling, weeping, scratch even at the insides of the stout gates of their masters' houses, hoping to be sent into the streets early, that their chances of turning a profit for their master, and thus avoiding a beating or torture, may be enhanced. Such a lenience, however, is seldom shown to the girls, as it is against an agreement binding the entrepreneurs engaged in this trade.

Sometimes the girls are sent into the streets with their hands braceleted behind their backs. Sometimes they are sent into the streets with their small hands free, that they may use them to please their master's customers. Sometimes a new girl is sent into the streets on a leash, with an older girl, that she may learn how a Coin Girl behaves.

I recalled that once, long ago, when I had purchased, and freed, Miss Henderson, we had encountered a Coin Girl on the way back to my inn. "Get away, you filthy thing," had said Miss Henderson. "Disgusting! Disgusting! Terrible! Disgusting!" she had said. I smiled. The girl had been half naked, in a brown rag. I had thought she had been superb. To be sure, Coin Girls are usually regarded as the lowest form of Gorean street slave.

I continued to walk up the Street of the Writhing Slave. Such girls, now, as it was late, past the nineteenth Ahn, would surely, at least for the most part, be chained in their basement kennels, lying on their straw mats, trying to sleep, clutching their thin blankets about their nude bodies.

The Street of the Writhing Slave winds tortuously upward from the wharves, threading its narrow way through a commercial district upward towards a hilly residential district. Free women, incidentally, tend to avoid the Street of the Writhing Slave. It frightens them, it seems, to walk upon it. I supposed I could not blame them. What free woman would dare to walk upon such a street, particularly at night? Her throat might suddenly feel the capture loop of a slaver and, by morning, branded, gag-hooded and chained, she might be fifty pasangs downriver, on her way to a market in Ven or Turmus.

By putting out my hands I could almost touch the walls of the facing houses.

I thought I heard the sound of a bell. I smiled. It was late, of course, for the sensuous peregrinations of a Coin Girl. Would they not all, now, be secured in their kennels, safe even from fruitless dreams of escape?

I continued on my way. The street was twisting. I could not see far ahead. I heard again the bell. I smiled.

I paused, near a tiny tharlarion-oil lamp. It was about a yard above my head, recessed in a small niche. It was by means of such that the street was lit. Families alternate in the fueling and tending of such lamps. As in many such matters, as in cleaning and repairing streets, Gorean responsibility tends to devolve on the individual and not on the polity. His taxes, in this sense, in such matters, are applied directly, and by himself, to the affairs with which they are concerned. Third parties, thus, in such matters, are not involved, and he knows precisely, at least in such instances, how much money is involved, and where it is being spent.

I heard the bell again. Again I smiled. I then proceeded further, climbing, up the street. Through the soles of my sandals I could feel, clearly, the street's harsh, rude cobblestones. I was pleased by this.

I turned a corner in the street, and it was then that I saw them, some fifty yards away, approaching, descending, nearing the location of one of the small tharlarion-oil lamps. Near the lamp the girl who was on the leash was jerked up short. I heard the flattish bell on her neck chain. It has a distinctive note. Then she stood still. She must stand in the light of the lamp, to await my approach. Both girls wore brief slave tunics. Both were barefoot. My step was casual, unhurried. It did not even seem, then, that I saw them. I might be anyone, returning late, say, from a tavern or from the visiting of friends. The meeting, surely, was one of mere chance.

"Oh," I said, pausing, stopping, suddenly, a few yards from them. It seemed that I, lost in thought, had just then noticed them. I regarded them. It seemed then that I looked at the leashed girl intently, as though trying to place her, at the distance, in the light, and then I reacted, as though I might then have placed her, or feared that I might have placed her, feared, dismayed, that I might have recognized who she might be. Swiftly she put her head down, hiding her face in her hands. This made a note sound from the bell. An abrupt command was spoken to her by her fair companion, and she quickly put her hands down, at her sides. Another command was spoken, and the leash jerked taut. She lifted her head. I approached her. Tears were in her eyes. Her lower lip trembled.

I regarded her, in the yellowish, flickering light of the tiny tharlarion-oil lamp, late at night, on the rude stones of that dark, narrow street in Victoria. She stood before me, small, slim, exquisite, beautiful. Her binding-fiber-belted, wraparound tunic was brown, and of clinging, thin rep-cloth; it was sleeveless and had a plunging neckline; it was slave short. About her neck there was a chain. From the chain there hung two objects; the first was a narrow, bronze bell, flatish and tapering, with a fiat top and ring; when she moved it would sound, calling attention to her whereabouts; the second was a metal coin box, which contained a slot for the deposition of coins; the coin box was locked. I had not heard coins sound, from within the coin box.

Too, about her neck, under the chain, with its dangling articles, there was a high, tight leather collar. Her leash, in the hands of the other girl, was attached to a ring at the back of this collar. The leash, too, was of leather, and long. It was coiled four or five times in the hands of the other girl. More Gorean leashes are long. There are two advantages to the long leash. It may be used, if one wishes, to bind the slave, and its long end, if one wishes, may easily serve as a whipping strap.

"Beverly," I whispered. "Is it you?"

She did not respond. Her eyes were filled with tears. Her lip trembled.

The girl who held her leash then jerked twice on the leash.

"May I serve your pleasure, Master?" asked the leashed girl.

"I thought you were a Coin Girl," I said.

"She is a Coin Girl," said the girl who held her leash. Then she jerked the leash once, against the collar ring.

"I am a Coin Girl," said the leashed girl, before me.

"Interest him," said the other girl.

"I am yours for a tarsk bit, Master," said the leashed girl.

"Open your tunic," said the other girl.

The girl then slipped loose the binding-fiber belt, letting it fall against the two belt loops in the back. Then, with her left hand and her right hand, parting the tunic, holding it open, she showed herself to me.

She was the most beautiful, and attractive, woman I had ever seen.

"It is my hope that I please Master," she said.

"Beverly," I said.

"She has no name," said the girl who held her leash. "Her master has not yet given her one. But once, it is true, that she was known as Beverly. For that reason I suggest, if you are interested in her, that you give her, for your use of her, another name."

I regarded the beautiful girl. She trembled. She did not close her tunic.

"She is an Earth slut," said the girl who held the leash. "Some men like them."

"I could call her 'Linda'," I said.

"An Earth-slut name," said the girl who held the leash.

"Excellent!" Then, suddenly, viciously, loosening the coils of the leash, she lashed the girl across the back of the thighs with the long end of the leash. "Do you not realize you are standing in the presence of a free man, Linda?" she said.

And then she who had once been Miss Beverly Henderson, of New York City, of Earth, and was now Linda, knelt before me, on the rude stones of that narrow street in Victoria. "Forgive me, Master," she whispered.

"Earth girls are so stupid," said the other girl, wearily.

"Many are not stupid," I said. "It is only that they are ignorant."

"Perhaps they may be taught," mused the other girl.

"Any woman may be taught," I told her.

"That is true," she smiled. Then she jerked the leash of the kneeling girl.

"Have me for a tarsk bit, Master," cried the kneeling girl, her tunic parted, looking up at me.

She who had been Miss Henderson, now kneeling before me, had asked to be had by me, and for a tarsk bit.

She looked up at me, piteously.

"You are a female, and he is a man," said the girl who held the leash. "Interest him."

"Please, Mistress," begged the girl.

"Bite at his tunic, and lick at his legs and feet," commanded the girl who held the leash.

Softly then did the bell of the Coin Girl sound, and the chain and coin box on her neck, as she who had once been Miss Henderson turned her head to the side, and began, with her small, fine white teeth, to bite and nibble at the hem of my tunic. I felt these small tugs, piteous and delicate, and then she, with her lips, pressed the wet tunic against my thigh and through the wet cloth, kissed me. She then, putting her head down, began to lick and kiss at my legs and feet. She performed this submission behavior for several minutes, piteously, desperately, beseechingly, entreatingly. Then, at last, her head down, over my feet, she whispered, begging, "Please have me for a tarsk bit, Master. Please have me for only a tarsk bit, Master."

"No," I told her. "Of course not."

She looked up, startled, dismayed.

"Do you think I respect you so little?" I asked.

"You have failed to interest him," said the girl who held the leash. She shortened the leash and, her fist almost at the girl's collar, jerked it taut, pulling the girl's head up and back straight. Women are very beautiful kneeling in this position.

"But I am a slave," protested the kneeling girl, looking up at me.

"I can see that," I said.

"Have you not wanted to have me, many times?" she asked. "Was I so wrong in sensing that?"

"No," I said.

"Then have me," she said. "I am half-naked before you. I am yours for a tarsk bit. Take me!"

"Surely you would not expect me to press myself upon you, with you at your present disadvantage," I said.

"Disadvantage!" she said. "I am a slave! You are free, but I am a slave. I am a slave girl!"

"Yes," I said.

"Look upon me," she said. "Do you think I am to be freed?"

"No," I said.

"Gorean men will always keep me in a collar," she said.

"Yes," I said. I wondered if she knew how truly she spoke.

"Take me," she begged. "Take me!"

"Surely you do not think that I am a bounder, or a cad?" I said.

She sobbed suddenly in frustration.

"On your feet, Slave," said the girl with the leash, giving her a yard of strap, that she might rise. "You have failed to interest him."

"Please let me try further, Mistress!" begged the kneeling girl. "Please!"

"On your feet," said the girl with the leash, jerking on the leash. Sobbing, the beautiful, leashed slave rose to her feet. Fumbling, she closed her tunic, and tied shut the binding fiber which belted it. It seemed she could hardly stand. She trembled, and wept.

"What is wrong?" I asked.

"She is a worthless slave," said the girl with the leash. "Look!" She shook the coin box on the girl's neck chain and shook it. "Empty!" she said, scornfully. She then struck the girl twice about the legs with the strap. "We have been out for Ahn," said the girl with the leash, "and we have passed many masters, not one of whom would deign to have her."

"Why is she crying?" I asked.

"She fears, rightfully, her master's displeasure," she said.

I nodded. It is very natural for a slave girl, who is completely at the mercy of her master, and is owned by him, to be very sensitive as to whether or not he is pleased with her.

"Perhaps he is a lenient fellow," I suggested.

"He is a merciless brute, who has more girls than he needs," said the girl holding the leash.

"What will be done with her?" I asked.

"At the least she will receive a severe beating," said the girl with the leash. "If he is in an ugly mood, she may be tortured and slain."

The leashed girl, sobbing, fell on her knees before the girl who held her leash. She put her head to her feet. "Please, Mistress," she begged, "do not take me in yet!"

"It is late," said the girl with the leash. "It is past the nineteenth Ahn. That you should be out now is even against the agreements of the renters of Coin Girls."

"Please, Mistress!" begged the girl.

"On your feet," said the girl with the leash. "You are now to be led back to your master, as a failed slave."

"Wait!" I said.

The kneeling girl, turning, regarded me wildly.

"Yes, Master?" said the girl with the leash.

"I have a tarsk bit here," I said, opening my pouch. "She need not return with the coin box empty." I smiled at the leashed girl. "It is the least I can do," I said to her, kindly. She was looking up at me, frightened. I went to deposit the coin in the coin box on the kneeling girl's neck chain, but the hand of the other girl, she who held the kneeling girl's leash, interposed itself. "There can be no payment, without the rendering of services," she said. "The honor of my Master must not be offended."

I drew back, holding the coin.

The kneeling girl, she who had once been Miss Beverly Henderson, once a graduate student in English literature at a major university in the New York City area, eyed the coin, fearfully. She feared I would replace it in my pouch.

"I will endeavor to be worthy of the tarsk bit, Master," she whispered.

"A Coin Girl," said the girl with the leash, "will struggle to please a man as much for a tarsk bit, as a high paga slave for a thousand gold pieces, to be paid by her master's customer for her use."

"I see," I said.

"The levels of skill in the Coin Girl, of course," said the girl with the leash, "are commonly much lower." This was true, of course. Yet it must be mentioned that sometimes Coin Girls are extremely skillful. Too, it is not unknown for a master to sometimes send even an exquisitely trained, beautiful high slave into the streets, usually as a joke or a discipline. Such a girl knows that she must perform superbly. Some of the men she falls in with may have been hired by her master, to report back on the quality of her services.

The girl with the leash drew back her hand, it then no longer shielding the opening on the coin box. "You understand the conditions?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Please, Please, Master," said the kneeling girl, tears in her eyes, "put the coin in my coin box. You will not regret it."

I hesitated. I looked at her.

"I beg to please Master," she said clearly.

"You," I asked, as though disbelievingly, "you beg to please a man?"

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Whom?" I asked.

"You, my Master," she said. "I beg to please you, my Master."

"As a slave?" I asked.

"Yes, Master," she said, "I beg to please you-as a slave."

I dropped the coin into the narrow, metal coin box. I thought the girl would almost faint with relief, and pleasure. Too, I saw another emotion in her eyes, which was harder to fathom.

The girl with the leash bent down to a nearby slave ring. Such things are common in Gorean streets. They are usually mounted in a wall, a foot to a yard above the walk or pavement. This one was mounted about a foot above the street, and was ahead of me and to my right, a bit behind the kneeling girl, and to her left. "There," said the girl, knotting the end of the leash about the ring. Usually, at such rings, slaves are on a short leash or chain, and are fastened to them on their knees. If the slave is braceleted to the ring and the ring is in the neighborhood of a yard high her hands are braceleted before her face, and her belly faces the wall, or behind the back of her head, and her back or side faces the wall; with the lower ring her hands are braceleted before her lower body if she faces the wall or has her side to it, and roughly at the small of her back, if she has her back to the wall. But the girl who had controlled the kneeling girl's leash had left her a good deal of slack. She might lie, fully, on the stones, and be moved about on them, if I chose.

"I shall withdraw," said the girl who had controlled the leash. "But understand clearly," she said, meaningfully, "that when I return her body will be closely examined."

"I understand," I said.

The girl who had controlled the leash then withdrew.

I looked at the girl, kneeling on the stones before me. I crouched down, before her.

"You know that you must use me fully," she said. "My body will be carefully examined, for the signs of your use."

"I know," I said.

She then, demurely, unbelted her tunic, and brushed it back.

"You must have me, and fully," she said. "You have no choice."

"I know," I said.

She dropped her tunic behind her, on the stones. "It is my hope," she said, "that I may please my Master."

I grinned. "Who are you?" I asked.

"Your Linda," she said.

"If I choose to have you by that name," I said.

"Yes," she said. "You may have me by any name you care to fix upon me, or nameless, if it pleases you."

"I know," I said.

"In all this time," she said, "you have never had me."

"No," I said.

"You wanted to, didn't you?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"And now I am only a leashed slut before you," she said, "one for whom you have paid your tarsk bit."

"Yes," I said.

She leaned forward, and kissed me, softly. "I will endeavor to be worthy of my tarsk bit, my Master," she whispered.

"Have no fear," I told her. "I shall see that you are."

"Master?" she asked, drawing back.

I then put my hands on her arms.

She winced, in pain. She looked at me, disbelievingly. "That is not the grip of a man of Earth," she said, "that of one who treats women with respect." She squirmed.

"You are a slave," I told her.

"It is the grip of a Gorean male," she said, "of one who is the master of a woman."

"Is it?" I asked.

"Yes!" she said. "Release me! I mean, 'Please release me, my Master! "

"No," I told her.

"No?" she asked. "But you are a man of Earth! You must do whatever a woman asks!"

"Why?" I asked.

"I do not know," she cried. "I do not know!"

"Do you wish me to release you?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "Yes!"

"Lying slave," I sneered.

"Please do not punish me, Master," she whimpered.

"The brutes of Gor have their way with you, as it pleases them," I said, "and you serve them well. Do you think the men of Earth should be content with less?"

"No, Master," she whimpered.

"If the men of Earth choose to surrender the birthright of their dominance, to exchange it for the garbage of a political perversion; if they should choose to deny their genes; if they should choose to subvert and violate the order of nature; if they should choose self-castration to manhood, that is, I suppose, their business."

"I do not know, Master," she said.

"Provided, of course, that they are willing to accept such penalties as anxiety, guilt, misery, frustration, sickness and shortened life spans."

"I do not know, Master," she said.

"A subverted nature cannot be expected not to retaliate," I said.

"No, Master," she said.

"Does a man have a right to be a man?" I asked.

"I suppose so," she said. "I do not know."

"And are there not hierarchies among rights, and some which take priority over others?"

"Be kind to me, Master," she begged.

"And is not the right of a man to be a man the highest right of such a sort that man possesses?"

"Yes," she said.

"What right takes precedence over that?" I asked.

"None, Master," she said.

"Has man," I asked, "the right to bring about his own downfall, to destroy himself?"

"He has the capacity, Master," she whispered, "but I do not think he has that right."

"He does not have that right," I told her, "for it conflicts with the higher right."

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Rather," said I, "he has, beyond rights, duties; and high among his duties is his duty to be true to himself, his duty to be a man."

"Yes, Master," she said.

"The denial of his manhood, then, by a man, is not only irrational, but morally pernicious. Men have not only a right to preserve their manhood, but a duty to do so."

"Perhaps there is no such thing as manhood," she whispered, "or womanhood."

"Tell that," I said, "to strong men and yielding women, and history."

"Perhaps there are no such things as duties, and rights," she said, "perhaps there are only the words, used as the instruments of manipulative rhetorics, devices of conditioning, cheaper and more subtle than guns and whips."

"That is an interesting and profound possibility," I said, "but then there would still remain needs and powers, forces and desires, and the facts of the world, that certain courses of action lead to certain results, and that other courses of action lead to other results. And in such a world who will argue with the larl as to whether or not it should feed, or with a man as to whether or not he should be a man? In such a world the larl hunts, and the man is a man."

"Gor, I fear," she said, "is such a world."

"It is," I told her, "Slave Girl."

"I'm frightened," she said.

"As well you might be, rightless slave," I told her.

"Rightless slave?" she asked.

"Of course," I told her, "you are a rightless Gorean slave girl, leashed and ready for having."

"Is that all I am?" she asked.

"Yes," I told her.

"To you?" she asked.

"Yes," I told her.

She shuddered.

"What is wrong?" I asked.

"I dare not speak," she whispered.

"Speak," I said.

"I am aroused," she said.

I continued to hold her right arm with my left hand, and placed my right hand on her body. She squirmed. "It is true," I told her.

She tried to pull back. "You do not handle me like a man of Earth," she whispered.

"I am not a man of Earth," I told her. "I am Gorean."

I then pressed her back to the stones.

"What are you doing?" she cried.

"I have been patient," I told her. "I have waited a long time for you."

She squirmed. Her strength was as nothing, compared to mine. I brushed the flattish bell and the coin box over her left shoulder, and to the side of her neck. I heard the bell, and the coin, my coin, in the small, narrow metal box on her neck chain.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"I am now tired of waiting," I told her.

"Then, you will truly have me?" she asked.

"Of course," I told her.

"But with dignity, and respect!" she begged.

"I have waited too long for that," I told her.

She struggled, unavailingly.

"Be gentle, solicitous and tender!" she begged.

"No," I told her.

"No?" she asked.

"No," I said.

"Oh!" she cried.

"When I finish with you," I said, "you will not have any doubts, as you might with a man of Earth, as to whether or not you have been had."

"Oh!" she cried.

"You will know," I assured her.

"This cannot be you," she wept. "It cannot be you!"

"It is," I told her.

"What are you doing?" she cried.

"Treating you as the slave you are," I told her.

"But I am a woman of Earth!" she cried.

"No," I told her, "you are only a leashed slut, a rightless Gorean slave girl, who is soon to learn something of the meaning of her collar."

"Yes, Master!" she cried, suddenly, helplessly.

"Do you admit that you are a slave?" I asked.

"Do not ask me, a woman of Earth, to admit to a man of Earth that I am a slave!" she begged. "It would be too shameful!"

"You would admit it swiftly enough to the brutes of Gor, would you not?" I asked.

"Yes, Master," she wept. "Yes, Master!"

"Admit it then to me," I said, "for now you are no longer a woman of Earth, nor am I now any longer a man of Earth.

"I am a slave, Master," she said. "I admit it." I recalled then the time that we had dined in the small restaurant on Earth, so long ago. Her hair had been bound back in a severe bun. She had worn an off-the-shoulder, svelte, white satin sheath dress. She had carried a small, silver-beaded purse. She was now in my arms, sweating, naked and leashed. "I am a slave, Master," she said. "I have always known it."

"Now you speak the truth," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Do you now feel shamed, that you have made this confession?" I asked.

She looked up at me, startled. "No," she said.

"How do you feel?" I asked.

"It is strange," she said. "I feel exalted, glorious. It is strange. It is as though I had come home to myself."

"The only true liberation," I said, "is to become what one truly is."

"Oh!" she cried.

"Does a slave object to being treated as a slave?" I asked.

"No, Master," she said. "I regret only that I never admitted my slavery on Earth."

"There would have been little point," I said. "There are few masters on Earth."

"There is no dearth of masters on Gor," she said.

"No," I smiled.

She shuddered in my arms. "I admit to you that I belong in a collar," she whispered.

"It is true," I said.

"I long to be taught its meaning," she said.

"You will be," I assured her.

"Teach me my collar," she begged. "Make me the slave I long to be."

"I shall," I said.

"Linda is now ready to serve her master," she said. "Master," she said, "what is wrong?"

I looked down at her, locked as a hot, leashed slave in my arms. "I shall have you under the name of 'Beverly'," I said.

"That was my name on Earth, long ago, when I was free," she said.

"I put it on you now, for my use of you, as a slave name," I told her.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"You were once of Earth, were you not?" I asked.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Are you now of Earth?" I asked.

"No, Master," she said.

"Of where are you now?" I asked.

"Gor, Master," she said.

"Once you were a free woman, were you not?" I asked.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Are you now free?" I asked.

"No, Master," she said. "Please, Master!"

"What are you now?" I asked.

"I am now naught but a Gorean slave girl!" she wept. "Please, Master!"

"What is your name," I asked.

"Beverly," she said. "My name is 'Beverly'. That is the name which my master has seen fit to put upon me."

"It is a pretty name," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said. "Thank you, Master. Please, Master!"

"You appear to be sexually aroused, Beverly," I said.

"I am, my Master," she said. "Please, please!"

"Speak, Slave," I said.

"Beverly begs to serve her master," she said.

I then took her, and, in moments, in helpless spasms, sobbing, in joy, she cried out her slave's submission to me. "I am now naught but a Gorean slave gir1! I am now naught but a Gorean slave girl!" she cried. "And I am yours, my Master! I am yours! I am yours!"

The girl who had held the leash of the girl whom I had just enjoyed, having now returned, removed her hand from the docile, supine slave's body. She tasted, and smelled, her fingers. "I see that you have earned your tarsk bit," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," said the girl, happily.

The girl who was the Coin Girl's leash holder then bent to untie the leash from the slave ring.

"Please, Mistress," begged the girl whom I had just enjoyed, scrambling to her knees and putting her head to the feet of the other girl, "do not yet untie my leash!"

"It is well past the nineteenth Ahn," said the girl who was apparently the new girl's slave supervisor and trainer, "But the pleasures of the master are not to be interfered with," said the kneeling slave. "That I was told in the house!"

Then, on her knees, she turned and looked pleadingly at me. I took out another tarsk bit, and held it out. The girl came then near to me, and leaned forward, that I might, from my reclining position, be able to reach the coin box chained on her neck. I put in another tarsk bit. The kneeling girl then turned and looked, pleadingly, at the girl under whose orders she was.

"Very well," said the girl who was standing, looking down upon the kneeling slave. "I shall wait up the street." Then she looked at me. "When you are through with her," she said, "send her to me."

"Very well," I said.

Beverly knelt happily beside me, and I lay back, on my back, on the tunic, on the stones of the street. I felt her small hands, lovingly, timidly, touching me about the shoulders and chest. "I did not know you could be like this," she said. "I have never seen you before like this."

"A woman looks differently at a man when she is a slave," I said.

"Yes, Master," she smiled. "What must you think of me?" she asked, ruefully.

"I do not understand," I said.

"How I behaved, how I acted," she said.

"I do not understand," I said.

"How can you respect me?" she asked.

"I do not," I said.

"You do not respect me?" she asked.

"No," I said, "of course not, for you are a slave."

"Yes, Master," she smiled. She kissed me, softly, on the right shoulder. Then she knelt back, on her heels, beside me. Her knees were spread, in the position of the pleasure slave. "You think little of slaves, don't you?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Then you must think little of me?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Am I good?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"I am glad," she said. "Master," she said.

"Yes," I said.

"What if I were not good?"

"Then I would not have put another coin in your coin box," I said.

"What if I were not good the first time, after you had put a coin in the coin box?" she asked.

"Then I would have beaten you," I said.

"Could you beat me?" she asked.

"Yes," I told her.

"Would you, truly, had you not been satisfied with me, have beaten me?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"I am pleased that you found me pleasing," she said.

I smiled.

"Too," she said, "you would have been entitled to a refund, though I myself could not have given it to you, for the coin box is locked. You could have obtained it, however, later from my master."

"I know," I said.

"But then, too, I would be again beaten," she said, "doubtless whipped."

"Yes," I said. The satisfaction of Coin Girls, in its way, is guaranteed, or one can receive one's money back. It is not surprising, then, that the girls, under the conditions obtaining, strive to be pleasing.

"I put a second coin, did I not, in your coin box?" I asked.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Address yourself to my pleasures," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said, and bent forward, over my body. I felt her sweet lips, and her small teeth and tongue, those of a slave, on my body. In a few moments I ordered her again to her back.

She lay beside me.

Then I pulled her by the neck chain closer to me. I thrust another coin into the small metal box on the chain. She kissed me. "Again, Master?" she asked. I took her by the arms and flung her beneath me. "Do you know the name of this street?" I asked.

"The Street of the Writhing Slave," she said.

"Writhe, Slave," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

It was an Ahn later.

She lay beside me, pressing her softness against me, kissing at my arm, my shoulder and chest, softly, piteously. "Very well," I said.

"Oh, yes, Master!" she breathed. "Yes, yes, Master!"

I then put her beneath me, and looked down into her eyes. "Yes, Master," she said. "Yes, yes, yes, Master!"

I was preparing to have her when suddenly I saw fear come into her eyes. "Oh, no, Master!" she cried. "No! No!"

"What is it?" I asked.

"The coin!" she cried, in misery, "the coin. You have not paid the coin!"

I smiled.

"I am a Coin Girl!" she cried, miserably. "I may not be had without the coin!"

"Oh," I said.

"Please," she begged. "Please pay the coin!"

"Do you beg it?" I asked.

"Yes, Master," she said. "Yes, Master!"

"Very well," I said. I put another tiny coin in the coin box.

"Thank you, Master," she breathed, lifting her lips to mine. "Now have me, have me, have me!"

"Very well," I said.

"It must be near dawn," I said.

"Yes, Master," she whispered, softly, frightened.

"We must think about having you returned to your master," I said.

"Oh, please, Master, not yet," she begged. "Let me stay beside you for but a little more time."

"Very well," I said, "for perhaps a moment more."

"I never want to leave your side," she said. She clutched me.

"Who owns you?" I asked.

"I do not know," she said, "doubtless some renter of Coin Girls. I was apportioned to him in the division of the spoils taken from the holding of Policrates."

"What does he look like?" I asked.

"I do not know," she said. "I have never even seen him."

"What manner of man is he?" I asked.

"He is harsh and cruel, uncompromising and merciless," she said. "He keeps me well as a slave."

"Do you fear him?" I asked.

"I fear him terribly," she said. "I am his girl."

"Perhaps he is not such a bad fellow," I said.

"He keeps me chained in a basement, in the darkness," she said. "He throws me scraps of food for which I, on my chain, must search, or starve."

"Perhaps he merely wishes you to learn that you are a slave," I said.

"He has taught it to me well," she said.

"He does not sound like such a bad fellow," I said. "If I owned you, I might treat you similarly, at least at first."

"Until I had learned well to whom I belong?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"And what if a girl is incapable of learning her lesson?" she asked.

"She may always, then," I said, "be fed to sleen."

"She will learn her lesson, and well," said the girl.

"Of course," I said.

"But he has never once summoned me to his couch, to abuse me, or caress me, or order me to serve his pleasures."

"I see," I said.

"If you owned me," she said, "you would have used me by now, would you not have?"

"Yes," I said, "if I owned you, doubtless, by now, I would have put you, and well, to my pleasure."

"Perhaps he does not find me attractive," she said. "Perhaps he has many women. Perhaps he does not even find me a curiosity to exploit."

"Perhaps," I said.

She then lay closely against me, her head at my hip, trembling.

"I am afraid to be a slave," she whispered.

"As well you might be," I said.

"I can be bought or sold, or given away," she said. "I may even be slain, on the least whim of a master."

"Yes," I said.

"Master," she said.

"Yes," I said.

"Masters do not respect their slaves, do they?" she asked.

"Of course not," I said.

"But might they not, sometimes, feel other emotions toward them?" she asked. Her voice was very soft, and frightened. I gathered that she feared she might be struck.

"Yes," I said.

"What emotions?" she asked, timidly, beggingly.

"Irritation," I said, "desire, lust."

"But is there no other emotion that a master might, sometimes, feel towards his slave?" she asked.

"What emotion did you have in mind?" I asked.

"Please, Master," she sobbed, "do not make me speak!"

"Very well," I said.

I felt her tears, and hair, at my hip. Doubtless it is hard, I thought, to be a slave girl. One is so helpless.

"It is light now," I said.

"I hear a bell," she whispered.

"It is not the bell of a Coin Girl," I said. "It is the bell of a vendor of bosk milk. He is making his rounds, coming up the street."

"Do not send me from your side," she said.

"Would you be seen here," I asked, "as a naked slave, leashed, lying upon the street?"

"Slaves have no pride," she said.

"On your knees," I told her.

"Yes, Master," she said, getting to her knees. I stood up, and looked down upon her, kneeling on the stones, in the gray light of the Gorean dawn.

"Use me but once more," she begged, "before you send me away."

I looked down at her.

"Shorten my leash," she said. "Tie my hands before my body. Fasten me closely at the slave ring."

"The vendor of bosk milk approaches," I said.

"I care not," she said. "Take me before him."

I pulled her back by the leather collar, and leash, not gently, to the slave ring. There I untied the leash and then retied it, considerably shortening it. She knelt there, then, against the wall. The tether, from the heavy metal ring to the stout ring at the back of her collar, taut, holding her head up, was about eighteen inches in length. She held out her hands to me, wrists crossed. With the free end of the leash I bound them together, tightly, before her body.

I looked down at her. "You are now tied, or muchly so," I said, "as was the girl on the walk, outside the shop of Philebus, in Ar."

"Yes, Master," she said, happily.

"I had brought her a drink of water," I said. "I had set the price for this favor as my having of her." This had occurred long ago, when I had been a silk slave, owned by the Lady Florence of Vonda. I had, myself, later captured my mistress, and sold her into slavery. She belonged now to Miles of Vonda, who had helped us in our work with the pirates, part of the spoils, as many other slave girls, taken from the holding of Policrates. My former mistress was now naught but the obedient and joyful love slave of the proud Vondan.

"You were a beast, of course, my Master," she said.

"Yes," I said.

I looked down upon her, she who had once been Miss Beverly Henderson, of New York City. She looked well, naked and bound, tethered at the slave ring.

"You accused me of raping her," I said. "You were furious."

The palanquin of Oneander, a salt and leather merchant of Ar, had been passing. To the rear of the palanquin, in a double coffle of briefly tunicked beauties, display slaves, their hands braceleted behind their backs, had been the girl who now knelt before me. Then the palanquin had stopped, as Oneander had chosen to pass the time of day with another fellow, he, too, in a palanquin, with display slaves. When I had withdrawn from the girl at the ring I had seen her, she who had once been Miss Henderson, among the display slaves. It had been the first time that I had seen her as a slave. I had never forgotten that first glimpse of her as a slave. It had been one of the most exciting moments of my life.

"Yes," she said, "I was furious."

"I was only making her pay for the drink of water," I said.

"But making her pay as a slave," she said.

"Of course," I said. "She was a slave."

"As you are," I added.

"Do you know why I was furious?" she asked.

"You felt pity and indignation seeing the abuse of one of your sisters in bondage?" I asked.

"No," she said, "I was furious because it was she, and not I, whom you forced, with such casual audacity, to serve your pleasure at the ring."

I smiled.

"I wanted to be at the ring, not she," she said.

"I see," I said.

"I am now at such a ring, before you," she said.

"And well tethered there," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"That girl," I said, "was not, truly, raped at the ring. She was only paying for a drink of water." I looked down at her. "It is you, rather," I said, "who will be raped at the ring."

"Yes, my Master!" she said.

I crouched down before her. I heard the bell from nearby, that of the vendor of bosk milk. "The vendor of bosk milk approaches," I said to her.

"Take me, take me!" she begged.

"Are you shameless?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, "I am a slave. Take me!"

I looked at her. She regarded me wildly. Then I placed the tiny coin, a tarsk bit, into the coin box on her neck chain. Then, straining against the leash and collar, she tried to press herself forward, against me. I took her by the ankles, her right ankle in my left hand, and her left ankle in my right hand, and pulled her to a sitting position. I then drew her toward me, and then thrust her bound hands up and over her head. I then threw apart her ankles.

"Yes, Master!" she cried.

I heard the bell, and the creak of the narrow, wooden wheels of the cart of the vendor of bosk milk, nearby. Then, rather behind us, and to my right, it stopped.

"Yes, Master, yes, Master," the girl was sobbing.

When I had finished with her I stood up. She lay there at my feet, on the stones, on her side, breathing deeply. She turned to look at the vendor of bosk milk, and then again lay on her side, the right side of her head on the stones, her eyes, half glazed, regarding the surface of the street.

"She is a hot one," said the vendor of bosk milk.

"Yes," I said.

He then, ringing his bell, leaning into the traces, attached to two wooden handles, drawing his two-wheeled cart behind him, proceeded up the street.

"How you had me!" said the girl. "Surely there is nothing left in you of the weakling of Earth."

I untied her hands, and untied the leash from the ring. "Do not disparage the men of Earth," I said. "Some, perhaps one day, wearied of their suppression, may assume their manhood."

"It is against the law," she said.

I shrugged. "Antibiological legislation may be repealed," I said. "Political forms may be replaced."

"The men of Earth are lost to manhood," she said.

"Perhaps," I said. "I do not know."

"It would require a revolution," she said.

"Perhaps," I said. "I do not know." Then I said, sharply, "Kneel."

Swiftly she knelt.

"In the position of the pleasure slave," I said.

She then knelt before me in the position of the pleasure slave, back on her heels, her knees widely spread, her back straight, her hands on her thighs, her head up. A woman is very beautiful in this position, proud, exciting, submitted, displayed.

"No such revolution is required on Gor, Master," she said.

"No," I said.

I then turned the collar, slowly, carefully, on her neck, for it was high, thick and close-fitting. The stout collar ring was then in front of her throat, with its long, dependent leash. I looped the leash. She eyed the loops warily. Such loops serve quite well as a set of lashing surfaces.

"Have you ever kissed the whip?" I asked her.

"Other than in training and in the hands of an auctioneer, when I was being sold?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

She looked down.

"Well?" I asked.

"I was once given for the night in the holding of Policrates to he whom we, at that time, thought to be the courier of Ragnar Voskjard," she whispered. "He forced me to kiss his whip."

"Look up, Slave," I ordered her.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"This fellow in the holding of Policrates," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Did you yield to him?"

"Do not make me answer such a question, not to you, please," she pleaded.

"Look into my eyes," I told her.

"Yes, Master," she said, in misery.

"Speak," I told her.

"Yes, Master," she said, "I yielded to him."

"Fully," I asked, "and as the degraded slave you are?"

"Yes, Master," she said. "I yielded to him fully, and as the degraded slave I am."

"Did you yield to him more fully, or as more of a slave, than you did to me?" I asked.

"No, Master," she said, tears in her eyes. "You two are the mightiest of the masters who have used me."

"I see," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"What does he look like?" I asked.

"I do not know, Master," she said. "In the feasting hall of Policrates he wore a mask. Later, in the chambers, when he used me, I was blindfolded."

"I see," I said.

"It was he who first taught me, fully, what it was to be a female slave," she said.

"Are you grateful to him?" I asked.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Kiss the whip," I said.

She took the coils of the leash in her small hands and, putting down her head, covered them with kisses. She then lifted her eyes to me, in which there were tears. "Now, too, my Master," she said, "I have kissed your whip."

"Perhaps someday you may come again into his possession," I said.

"No, Master," she said, "doubtless he has high and beautiful Gorean girls to serve him. I am only a miserable Earth girl slave. Doubtless he has already forgotten about me. I was only a novelty, and a pleasure, for a night to him."

"I see," I said.

"He made me a spasmodic and submitted slave, and then abandoned me."

"You have not yet seen your master, you have told me," I said. "Perhaps, unbeknownst to you, it is that very fellow who owns you."

"No, Master," she smiled, ruefully. "I know such a man. By now he would have used me, richly and fully. Muchly, by now, would I have had to crawl to him and serve him."

"Do you love him?" I asked.

"Yes, Master," she sobbed, "but I am the most miserable of slaves!"

"Why is that?" I asked.

"For I love two men!" she wept.

"Who is the other?" I asked.

She looked at me, suddenly terrified. There were tears in her eyes. "Please do not make me speak," she begged.

I shrugged. "Very well," I said.

A householder emerged from a nearby door. He paid us little attention. The woman was obviously only a branded, stripped slave, and a mere Coin Girl at that. He had doubtless seen many such girls, and many who, doubtless, in his opinion, were of much greater interest. He carried a small ladder and, on it, climbed to the tiny tharlarion-oil lamp, and pinched it out. In a moment, carrying the short ladder, he had returned inside. To him, doubtless, the former Miss Henderson was only another little, meaningless, exquisite enslaved wench.

I dropped the leash. It fell between her breasts, and then to the stones of the street. "Get up," I told her, "and put on your tunic."

She looked up at me, agonized.

"Must a command be repeated?" I inquired.

"No, Master," she said. She then got to her feet, the long leash falling before her. She picked up her tunic and drew it on, but did not tie it shut.

She looked at me. "You are sending me away?" she asked.

"It is time for you to be returned to your master," I said.

"So simply as that?" she asked.

"Of course," I said.

She fell on her knees before me, and put her head down. She clasped me about the right leg, and began, sobbing, to kiss at my knee. I took her by the hair and pulled her head up, to where she must look at me. "Master," she sobbed.

Casually I inserted another coin in the coin box. She looked at me, with horror.

"Are you obedient?" I asked. I crouched before her, and tossed the leash over her shoulder.

"Yes, Master," she whispered.

I then, casually, jerked apart the sides of her tunic.

"Master," she said.

"Lie down," I told her.

"Yes, Master," she said.

She then lay back on the stones before me, obedient, agonized.

I brushed back the bell, and coin box, and they lay then on the stones, beside the left side of her neck.

"Master," she said.

I entered her, and held her.

"Master," she wept.

"What is wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing," she said.

"Will it be necessary to whip you?" I asked.

"No, Master," she wept.

In a moment she cried out, "Is it all that I am to you, a Coin Girl?"

"What else could you be?" I asked.

"Nothing," she wept. "Nothing." Then she clutched me, desperately, sobbing. "Buy me," she begged, "buy me! Keep me! Keep me! I never want to leave you! Buy me, Master, I beg you! I will be a good slave to you! I will strive to please you as might a thousand girls! I want to be your slave! I beg you, my Master, I beg you to buy me!"

Finished with her, I stood up. She lay shattered at my feet, weeping.

I looked down upon her. It was pleasant to see her thusly.

I drew on my tunic.

I kicked the sobbing figure with the side of my foot. "Kneel," I told it.

"Yes, Master," she said. She knelt.

"Adjust the bell and coin box," I told her.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Too," said I, "tie shut your tunic. Free women may soon be about. We must not scandalize them."

"No, Master," she said. Kneeling, shuddering, her head down, she closed her tunic, and tied it shut.

I heard the long, horizontal shutters of a shop being flung upward, over the counter. This opens the shop to the street. It was the shop of a leather worker.

The girl looked up at me, agonized.

I then, by the leash, pulling it forward, jerked her to her feet. The collar cut the underside of her chin. I coiled the leash and put the coils in her own hand. "Hold the leash taut," I told her. "Yes, Master," she whispered. She would, thus, her hand about six inches from the ring, lead herself on her own leash. "Seek out now the girl who held your leash last night," I said. "She will be waiting up the street. Find her, and beg her to return you swiftly to your master."

"Yes, Master," she whispered.

I regarded her.

"Please, Master," she begged, "please!"

I pointed up the street.

"Yes, Master," she said, and then, turning about, stumbling and crying, the bell of the Coin Girl sounding, the coins jingling in the box on her neck, she fled up the street.