Mariners of Gor

Chapter Twenty-Six

It had been a good cast, from twenty yards, the javelin into the heavy post set in the courtyard.

“Well done, Philoctetes,” I said.

There was general assent from the fellows about.

To one side Pani archers, with their large, unusual bows, were plying shafts into silk-covered straw targets.

I would not have cared to meet such fellows in the field.

“When will we march?” inquired Philoctetes.

“We must wait,” I said.

A robust exploratory force of some five hundred men, a hundred Pani warriors of the men of Lord Temmu, and four hundred of our mercenaries, our armsmen, had been sent forth eight days ago.

Behind us we heard the striking of sharpened steel. Obviously one does the best to control the blade, but, even so, blood can be shed in such exercises.

“Many of the enemy, it is said,” said a fellow, “are low Pani, impressed into service. The blast of a war horn should send them running back to their fields.”

“Our fellows will harvest them like Sa-Tarna, split them like tospits, crush them like dried larmas,” said another.

“Our fellows were well met at the defile, and on the beach,” said a man, thoughtfully.

“We were taken by surprise, ambushed,” said a man. “We were not ready.”

“Those were prize troops,” said a fellow, “gathered, and set.”

“We stood up to them well enough at the evacuation,” said another.

“Consider how heavily we were outnumbered,” said another.

I was pleased to some extent, of course, that the morale of our armsmen seemed high. On the other hand, as far as I could tell, there was a serious likelihood that we might be seriously outnumbered in any pitched battle. The ideal, of course, is to engage the enemy only when it is to one’s advantage, not to his advantage. Small units are likely to overcome smaller units. Thus, a smaller army, rapid and evasive, judiciously disposed and applied, may, in time, in a hundred actions, a hundred skirmishes, inflict much damage on a larger army, if its elements can be met seriatim, and divided. Statistically, two men are likely to vanquish a single man, one engaging, one killing, with the result that there is not likely to be one survivor, one of the two men, but rather two of the two men, the two who held the numerical advantage, slender though it might have seemed.

“Our fellows should be soon back, with trophies,” said a man.

“And perhaps women,” said another.

“They will be Pani women,” said a man.

“What matter?” said another.

“How are they?” asked another.

“In the village,” said another, “go to the slave hut.”

I had no idea of how effective lower Pani, mostly peasants, impressed or enlisted as ashigaru, might be, as it was not their way of life, so to speak, as it seemed to be for higher Pani, such as the warriors of Lord Temmu, and Lords Nishida and Okimoto, but I was sure they could be trained, might be terrified not to fight, and, in any event, might be present in large numbers. And, of course, they would be stiffened by, and supplemented by, higher Pani, the sort who had, it seems, though doubtless in greater numbers, previously reduced and decimated the men of Lords Nishida and Okimoto, warriors for whom I entertained the highest regard.

In any event, I feared our fellows might underestimate the enemy. It is always preferable to anticipate the larl and meet the urt, than expect the urt and meet the larl.

Several men, in their turn, freed of duty for the day, had issued from the courtyard, down various trails, to the local villages. I myself, in recent days, had visited two such villages. During the day, of late, the gates of the castle had been open. Lesser Pani were mostly barred entry, but higher Pani, and we, during the day, if not on duty, came and went rather as we wished. At night, the gates were closed, and access, and exit, it seemed, was carefully supervised. Probably secret signals were employed. The Pani, I had discovered on the ship, were familiar with such devices, and, as I later learned, with ciphers and codes, as well. When the men chose to leave the castle, they were given marked shells, rather like ostraka. These could be exchanged for things in the villages, fish, rice, sake, a fermented drink made from rice, and such, and, in the stalls, beads, cloth, trinkets, and such. These shells were not typical Pani currency, which, for the most part, consisted of metal coins, of silver, gold, and copper, of various certified weights, struck by various shoguns. As on the continent there is no common currency, but a variety of currencies, which often entails rumors, scales, bargainings, and such. Many of these coins, not all, were perforated in the center. One threads one or more such coins on a string, the string fastened about the bottom and top coin, or loops a string through several coins, and ties the loop shut above the top coin. In this way the coins are kept together, perhaps tied about one’s waist, under the clothing, or put about one’s neck, under the clothing, or simply dropped into a pouch, usually of silk. Lesser Pani sometimes, on errands, carry the coin or coins in the mouth, rather as slaves may on the continent, and on the islands, while marketing for their masters. The marked shells, then, I gathered, were rather in the nature of a form of script. I also gathered that if the villagers did not accept them they risked the loss of an eye, a hand, a foot, or a head. As long as they were unquestioningly exchanged, of course, at least in the local villages, the nature of the material made little difference. The marking on the shells, in part done in dots, presumably for our benefit, stipulated the value to be assigned to the shell. One bargained, of course, with such things, much as one might with pieces of metal, or, in the Barrens, with beads, strips of leather, furs, blankets, arrowheads, bowstrings, slaves, and such. In one village there was a slave hut, as alluded to, popular with the men, whose occupants I looked in on, but did not put to use. Their use cost a two-dot shell. The girls in the hut were not contract women but slaves, as the Pani keep slaves, as well as others, as is common in refined, advanced civilizations. The hut was lit by hanging lamps, and floored by a large, colorful mat, presumably to enhance the pleasure of the clients, for the Pani, at least the high Pani, refined, and civilized, tend to be quite open to the pleasures of the senses, such as color, textures, scents, and such. The girls, too, were given lovely silken sheets, which they might hold about themselves. Naturally they kneel humbly before the men, for they are not only females, but slaves. The Pani free women, incidentally, seem, except for the companions of high officers, and such, to have much lower status than the typical Gorean free woman, certainly one of upper caste. For example, an older sister, even a mother, must defer to a male child, bowing first, and such. When a client enters the hut, if he thinks he might find one of the slaves of interest, he has her stand before him, her head down. He then lifts away the sheet and considers her. If he is pleased, he instructs her as to how he wishes to be pleased. These slaves, with an exception or two to be noted, are Pani females. Many are captured in war, some are bought in the girl markets, to which I have hitherto referred, and some, it seems, are bred for the market. Each is chained by the ankle to a post which protrudes through a prepared aperture in the mat. Each, I was pleased to note, wore a locked metal collar, or a neck chain, with its attached slave disk, padlocked about her neck. In some Gorean cities slaves are put in the padlocked neck chain, with the slave disk, identifying her master, and sometimes noting her current name, but the locked metal collar is far more common, indeed, almost universal. It seems more secure, and is easily engraved. Some cities use the slave anklet on the left ankle, which is attractive. But as we recognize, and the Pani do as well, the ideal mounting site for a token of bondage is the neck. On the neck, the token is prominently displayed, for all to note. Too, on the neck, the collar is beautifully secure. It is absolutely unslippable, even a Turian collar. Too, with the loss of a foot or ankle, an anklet or bracelet might be lost. On the other hand, if one were to cut away the head, one has lost the slave. As noted, such slaves are almost always Pani females. On the other hand, when I looked into the slave hut, two slaves, Thetis and Iole, whom I recalled from the ship, and castle, were ankle-chained to posts in the slave hut. This was temporary, of course, for our slaves had not been brought across the ocean to be squandered in a village’s slave hut, not even that of a rather large village, as was the nearest village, this village, which could be reached on foot in less than a quarter of an Ahn. They had been insufficiently prompt in service, or insufficiently deferent, I gathered, to a keeper, or a free person, and had thus been brought down to the village and put on their chains. “Master!” they cried out to me, from their knees, seeing me, extending their hands piteously to me. I supposed they had hoped that I had come to return them to their kennels on the castle grounds, but I had not. I had not even realized they were here, being disciplined. Their outburst earned them a cry of rage from the Pani woman in charge of the slave hut, who tore away their sheets, and gave them several stinging strokes of a bamboo switch. She apparently did not care for the two new slaves, with strange eyes, and light skin. Inquiries suggested, though, that the two new slaves were not unpopular with the hut’s clientele. One supposes that novelty to some extent entered into the matter. To be sure, there were difficulties for the girls, as some of the commands they were given were unfamiliar, even unintelligible, to them. They simply did not know what to do. The Pani clients, of course, took it for granted that any slave in the slave hut would be obedient, prompt, and adept in a variety of performances. This innocent ignorance was not without its consequences, of course, and the girls were often subjected to castigation, scorn, kicks, slappings, and the stroke of the bamboo switch. Happily, I learned, Saru, the slave given by Lord Nishida to Lord Temmu, and the ten slaves given by Lord Okimoto to Lord Temmu, were more patiently and gently treated. One is not entitled to assume that a fair-skinned slave from abroard, one from a far different culture, is going to know what might be expected of her, the proper serving, for example, of sake, the appropriate temperature, and such.

The staple in the Twelve Islands, which is actually far more than twelve, is not Sa-Tarna, but rice.

Rice fields, or paddies, are associated with each village. A daimyo or shogun will have suzerainty over various villages, which he protects, and from which he obtains the means to maintain his men.

He who controls the rice, it is said, controls the islands.

Several rice fields were associated with the holding of Lord Temmu, most north and west of the castle. To reach such fields by land would mean to pass the holding of Lord Temmu. To reach them from the sea, from the north or west, one would have to put into shore, on the other side of the island, negotiate a difficult terrain, and thread one’s way through guarded, easily defended passes. By the time one could reach the fields, it was likely the ashigaru of Lord Temmu would be in position.

“It is said,” said Philoctetes, “Tarl Cabot is on the grounds.”

“I have not seen him,” I said.

To be sure, whenever it was thought he was at the castle, rumors hastened about. Certainly he was much in conversation.

This obviously had much to do with the war which, at present, seemed faraway.

As suggested earlier, it was not clear, at least to the lower ranks, when we might march.

It did seem clear that Lord Temmu had in mind carrying the war to the enemy. Certainly the reinforcement by foreign armsmen, and the acquisition of tarns, would suggest as much.

“Last night, on tarnback,” he said.

“What is the meaning of that?” asked a man.

“I do not know,” I said.

“A coordination is being envisaged,” speculated a fellow.

That seemed to me likely.

“I think,” said a man, “we are soon to march.”

“The exploratory force,” said another, “is still abroad.”

“Look,” said a fellow. “There is another.”

“Ah!” said a man.

The fellow was pointing to a high storey of the castle, where there was a beating of wings, dark against the sky, and then the tiny bird disappeared, within. Though I had never been in that room, its window high, unshuttered, open to the sky, it obviously housed a number of the swift-flighted, messenger vulos, by means of which Pani might convey messages. These, it seems, were placed in tiny wrappers, and fastened to one of the bird’s legs. Vulos who would seek this cot were carried about, for example, to the training area of the tarns somewhere back in the mountains, and, there, I had no doubt, in the mountains, were kept, in their tiny wood-barred cages, vulos which, if released, would seek as their cot and roost the very room above, high in the castle. Similarly there must have been vulos in that room which, if released, would seek a different cot and roost, perhaps, for example, one housed in the training area for tarns, back in the mountains.

There had been, of late, much traffic coming and going from that area, that mysterious room, high in the castle. This sort of thing had been given careful attention, obviously, by the men.

And this traffic had been much more frequent, of late.

I suspected we would march, upon the return of the exploratory force.

Interestingly, the number of Pani aboard the great ship, guarding it, had been recently increased.

This suggested apprehension on the part of the Pani, and suggested, as well, though not as clearly, that an order of march might be imminent.

A number of slaves, too, some twenty or thirty, fastened together by the neck, by a long rope, had been given bags of water, bundles of dried parsit, sacks of rice, and such, to convey to the ship.

They had made this laborious journey more than once, even today.

It seemed that the Pani aboard the ship were to be well-supplied.

As mentioned earlier, no easy access was to be had to the ship. The galley nests remained closed. Supplies were taken aboard by means of baskets on ropes, or by means of the nets, swung out on booms, and raised and lowered by pulleys. Even the slaves who brought the water and other supplies were not permitted near the baskets and nets, but must kneel on the boards of the wharf, until dismissed, to climb, roped together by the neck, the narrow walled-in path to the castle grounds. They were in the charge, of course, of youth, boys of the lesser Pani.

The gate to the wharf area, leading to the walled-in trail, was open, and the coffle, weary and footsore, neck-roped, their burdens delivered, were being herded within, by their young herdsmen.

Once within the gate the lads began to remove them, one by one, from the coffle. While the rope was being removed the slaves must kneel. Also, of course, they were in the presence of a free person, in this case, a boy, of the lesser Pani. Once free of the rope, the girls were permitted to rise to their feet, that they might seek their keepers, and be returned to their kennels.

The sun was high, and the day warm.

The burdens they had borne, while not heavy for a man, would have been heavy for a woman, and the climb back to the castle from the wharf, given its twistings and its tortuous steepness, would be time consuming and difficult for either a man or woman.

It was not an easy day for them.

I supposed they would be anxious to get to the shade of their housings, and a pan of water.

But one, I saw, seemed frightened; she was looking about, apprehensively. She was backed against the wall, the palms of her hands back, against the stone. She was breathing heavily, this stress marked by the lovely rise and fall of her bosom. I did not think this was entirely from the climb. She seemed apprehensive, even terrified. How appealing a beautiful woman is when helpless and frightened. One desires to reassure and comfort her, before taking her hands and braceleting them behind her back. She remained on her feet, I supposed, that she might the more seem ready, should she be questioned, to return to her kennel. I knew her, of course, even from across the courtyard, some forty yards, or so. One does not easily forget such a slave. One in every ten or so is such a slave. Alcinoe, for example, was such a slave. In any market, on any street, men would have looked after her. Her passage was such as might elicit soft whistles, the smacking of lips, explicit speculations as to her value off the block, or her worth in the furs. A slave is not a free woman. She must expect such things. Too, given the scantiness of her garmenture, such speculations can be more securely grounded than in the case of a free woman, wrapped away somewhere within the layers of her robes of concealment. The slave, of course, is intended to be a source of pleasure. Her collar proclaims her such. She was looking at me. Why, I wondered. Then she sank down, half crouching, half kneeling. Her lips seemed to form the word, “Please!” She stretched her hand out to me, piteously. I did not understand her agitation. I did know she should be soon back in her kennel. Obviously she wished to speak to me. I did not understand this. What had frightened her?

I approached her, and when I had reached her, she knelt, bent muchly over, her head down. Did she fear to be recognized?

“May I speak, Master,” she whispered.

As I did not respond to her, she looked up, frightened.

I pointed to my feet.

She bent down, and, the palms of her hands in the dirt, kissed my feet. “Thank you, Master,” she said. She, a mere slave, had been permitted to kiss the feet of a free man.

“You may speak,” I said.

Her concern, her agitation, her fear, was evident.

“I heard men speak,” she said, “on the wharf. Is it true that there is one named Tarl Cabot here, at the World’s End?”

“Yes,” I said, “though he is not much about, is seldom on the grounds. He is Tarl Cabot, commander of the tarn cavalry, in the forces of Lords Nishida and Okimoto, and, I suppose, now, of Lord Temmu.”

“A warrior?”

“Yes.”

“A tarnsman?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Of Port Kar?” she whispered, frightened.

“That is my understanding,” I said.

She moaned.

“Do you know him?” I asked.

“I fear so,” she said.

“He was on the ship when I was brought aboard,” I said. “I take it he was on the ship from the beginning. He has, I take it, been with Lords Nishida and Okimoto even from the northern forests.”

“So long?” she said.

“Yes,” I said.

She began to tremble.

“You fear he might recognize you?” I said. I supposed that must be the source of her apprehension.

“He could recognize me,” she said.

“I see,” I said.

Surely she had enough to concern her, enough to fear, without learning that there was yet another about, by whom she might be identified as the former Talena of Ar, once the Ubara of Ar, now a tunicked, collared slave.

“You did not realize he was about?” I said.

“No,” she said.

I supposed that this was quite possible. Slaves such as she, muchly controlled, largely sequestered in the keeping areas, not serving at the tables, not being privy to the casual discourse of masters, not being free in a city, to roam the streets, the shops and markets, and such, are likely to know very little of what is going on about them, even on board a ship. Certainly one would not be expected to furnish them with bulletins, crew lists, and such. Seldom would they be in a position to obtain such information. And who, possessing such information, would impart it to them? If they learn of such things, it would presumably be by inadvertence, or in passing, and she, given her keeping, would have had scant opportunity to obtain such intelligence.

“On the ship,” I said, “you were aware of Pani?”

“Yes,” she said, “but I knew nothing of their numbers.”

“On the ship,” I said, “who were the high officers of the Pani?”

“I know now,” she said, “they were Lords Nishida and Okimoto.”

“Did you know that on the ship?” I asked.

“No,” she said.

I recalled that she, as some others, had been hooded when brought to the open deck.

“You fear Tarl Cabot?” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“What have you to fear from him?” I asked.

“Everything,” she whispered.

“I do not understand,” I said.

“He would kill me,” she said.

“Surely not,” I said.

“Surely so,” she said.

“You fear,” I said, “that he would return you to Ar, to the justice of Ar, to the impaling spear?”

In the case of one of her importance, the impaling spear might be narrow, greased, and thirty feet in height, and, mounted on the wall, her slow descent, she writhing, trying her best to prevent it, unable to do so, might be visible for pasangs.

“No,” she said, “I fear he would not be so kind.”

“You fear more?” I said.

“Much more,” she said.

“Perhaps your casual skinning, and salting,” I asked, “prolonged for weeks, or months?”

“Perhaps more,” she said.

“You are a well-formed, passable slave,” I said. “Surely Tarl Cabot would have something better to do with such a slave than kill her.”

“I think not,” she said.

“Surely you are not unaware of the inordinate pleasure that a man may derive from a slave?” I said.

“You do not understand,” she said.

“What do I not understand?” I asked.

“There are terrible things between us,” she said.

“From when you were free?”

“Yes.”

“I see,” I said. I supposed there were many, a great many, who owed much to the former Mistress of Ar, who might adjudge the impaling spear an illicit, unwarranted mercy.

If she were one of the most desired, she was also one of the most detested, most hated, women on Gor.

“Do not make me speak further,” she whispered.

“I have served with Tarl Cabot,” I said, “on the ship, but I will not reveal your presence to him.”

She put her head down, gratefully, her dark hair over my boots.

“But, like Seremides,” I said, “he might happen upon you.”

“How helpless are slaves!” she wept.

“But Seremides,” I said, “can scarcely hobble about, and Cabot is much in the mountains, with the tarn cavalry.”

“Perhaps I can be sold away from the castle,” she said.

“Perhaps,” I said.

“I am afraid,” she said.

“Ar is faraway,” I said.

“Tarl Cabot is not,” she said.

“I do not think he would hurt you,” I said.

“You do not know him,” she said.

“Perhaps you do not know him,” I said.

“You do not know what I did to him,” she said.

“No,” I said, “I do not know that.”

“He would kill me,” she said.

“It is time for you to return to your kennel,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

The slave had scarcely risen to her feet, backed away, head down, turned, and hurried toward the shed which housed her kennel, when I became aware of another figure near me.

“How homely she is,” said Alcinoe. “I have seen tarsks more attractive than she. Surely you have no interest in so poor a slave.”

“Have you been listening?” I asked.

“Certainly not,” she said. “But I have been watching, from across the courtyard, over there.”

She indicated a place, across the grounds, near some shrubbery, not far from the large, central portal of the castle, perhaps fifty yards away.

“She certainly kissed your feet well,” said Alcinoe.

“She is a slave,” I said.

“And she kneels well, too.”

“Yes,” I said.

“I wager,” said Alcinoe, “that you enjoyed having her, slave, before you.”

“Yes,” I said. Indeed, what man would not? Indeed, every beautiful woman, indeed, every woman, should kneel before a man, his.

“I am far more beautiful than she,” said Alcinoe.

“You looked well earlier, coffled, neck-roped, struggling under your bag of rice,” I said.

“We had to make three trips!” she said.

“Excellent,” I said, “that the former lady Flavia of Ar should be worked, as a common slave.”

“So, too, was she!” said Alcinoe.

“I am well aware of that,” I said. It had given me great pleasure to see the former two highest women in Ar, tunicked, collared, and neck-roped, portering for the Pani.

“Why do you share speech with so lowly, so worthless, a slave?”

“Do you object?” I asked.

“Master may do as he pleases, of course,” she said.

“Are you barefoot?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“What is the garment you wear?” I asked.

“A tunic,” she said.

“That is all?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“You are then naked, save for your tunic,” I said.

“Yes,” she said.

“What is that on your neck?” I asked.

“A collar,” she said.

“What sort of collar?”

“A slave collar,” she said.

“Then you are a slave,” I said.

“Master?”

“Why are you standing?”

Swiftly she knelt before me.

“You must understand, Master,” she said, looking up, “that she is cunning, deceitful, and clever.”

“And you would warn me of her wiles?” I said.

“Yes,” she said, “lest she cast the spell of her smiles over you, the magic of sparkling eyes, the sorcery of a trembling lip.”

“The potency of such charms,” I said, “however mighty in a free woman, are surely much reduced in a kneeling, tunicked slave.”

“I, think, Master,” she said, “they may rather be much increased.”

I thought it quite possible that Alcinoe was not mistaken in this matter. Certainly the helplessness of the slave, that she is owned, and such, make her a hundred times more attractive to a male. She belongs to one. One may do with her as one wishes. One’s possessions, of course, are always special to a fellow. Consider, for example, his sleen or kaiila.

“I take it,” I said, “that you do not much care for the former Ubara of Ar.”

“I hate her,” she said.

“She doubtless entertains a similar regard for you,” I said.

“Surely you do not like her,” said Alcinoe.

“What is it to you?” I asked.

Tears suddenly flooded the eyes of the slave.

“I see,” I said.

“No, no, no,” she said. “You cannot see!”

“The conversation,” I said, “which recently took place between a free man and a slave is no concern of yours.”

“I understand, Master,” she said.

“For what it is worth,” I said, “I find you a hundred times more beautiful, and a thousand times more desirable, than the former Ubara of Ar.”

“But she was Ubara!” she exclaimed.

“You are both now slaves,” I said, “women reduced to their primitive essentials, women as slaves.”

“Oh, Master!” she cried. “You care for me!”

“Care, for a slave?” I said. “Do not be foolish.”

“Master?”

“I said that you were beautiful, and desirable,” I said. “If you were stripped on a slave block, any fool could see that, and say as much. Beyond that, do not insult a free man! Do not insinuate that a free man might be so foolish as to care for a slave. Do not dare to utter such an absurdity! Slaves are beasts and properties. They are to be owned, and mastered, that is all. You are a slave. Only a fool would permit himself to care for a slave.”

“Yes, Master,” she said, happily.

If you were mine,” I said, angrily, “you would learn your collar as few women.”

“Teach it to me, Master!” she said.

“But I do not own you,” I said.

She clutched at the ship’s collar on her neck, and, two hands on it, jerked it against the back of her neck, again and again, and tears burst from her eyes.

“No,” she said, “you do not own me!”

I think then she began to understand, more clearly than ever, what it was to be a slave.

“I want you to be my master!” she wept.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because,” she said, “I–I-”

“Yes?” I said.

“Nothing, Master,” she whispered.

“What a stupid little slave you are,” I said, “but one well-curved.”

“You dare to speak so,” she said, suddenly, abruptly, eyes flashing, “to she who was once the Lady Flavia of Ar?”

“Certainly,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she whispered.

“Have your keepers,” I said, “in your training, not put you naked before a mirror, and bound, that you might look upon yourself?”

“Yes,” she said, “and made me struggle in my bonds.”

“Surely then,” I said, “you are aware of your slave curves.”

“I have known,” she said, “since puberty, that I was a slave, and should be a slave.”

“That is often denied,” I said, “but it is not unusual.”

“Are all women slaves?” she asked.

“I do not know,” I said, “but surely many are.”

“I am one such,” she said.

“And such,” I said, “will never be fulfilled, until they are at the feet of a master.”

“I would be at your feet,” she said.

“Any man will do,” I said.

“Do you think,” she said, “that a master makes no difference to a slave?”

“You speak of the feelings of a slave,” I said. “Her feelings are unimportant. They are nothing. She is merely a slave. Let her kneel, and hope to please.”

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“One buys a slave for work and pleasure,” I said.

“The slave seeks love,” she said.

“What the slave seeks is unimportant,” I said.

“How can a slave work for her master, know his domination, obey him, wear his collar, kneel before him, be put to his pleasure, squirm and kick, begging, in his chains, and not succumb to him, not fall in love with him?”

“Such things can take place without love,” I said.

“We want our love master!” she wept. “Do not masters search for their love slave?”

“Speak of love,” I said, “and you may be lashed.”

“Yes, Master,” she said. “Forgive me, Master.”

I grew muchly uneasy, and angry. The slave is a work object and a pleasure object, nothing more. That must be kept in mind. She is a meaningless, purchased beast. See that you treat her as one. She is an animal. See that you train her as one. Dress her, if you do, for her exposure and exhibition, publicly and privately, and for your pleasure. She is to wear her hair, and such, as you please. Belittle and mock her, if you wish. Scorn and detest her, if you wish. Do not be easy to please. Never let her forget that she is a slave, only that. Command her. Master her. Yours is the whip. Hers is the collar. Do not let her forget this. Work her well, and derive much pleasure from her, inordinate pleasure. She is your slave.

“The slave is nothing,” I said. “You must clearly understand that.”

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“Do not speak of love,” I said.

“Forgive me, Master,” she said.

“You are, of course,” I said, “not displeasing to look upon.”

“Master?”

“As an exciting, tender morsel of collar meat.”

“Thank you, Master,” she whispered.

“Excellent slave curves,” I said.

“Thank you, Master,” she said.

“It pleasant to have you on your knees before me.”

“A girl is pleased, if she is found pleasing,” she said.

“You kneel well,” I said.

“Thank you, Master,” she said.

“With one exception,” I said.

“Master?”

“Your knees,” I said, “split them,”

“Yes, Master.”

“More.”

“More, Master?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“How do you feel now?” I asked.

“I have known for years that I was a slave, and should be a slave,” she said, “but until this moment, in this place, I did not expect these feelings, as they are now, which irradiate my body. I am enflamed, Master, helplessly enflamed.”

“Describe your feelings,” I said.

“I feel slave,” she said. “I feel slave.”

“You are slave,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“A slave,” I said, “yearns for her master.”

“I would,” she said, “that you would be the master of my slave, the slave that I am.”

“You are not an unattractive slave,” I said.

“Choose me!” she begged.

“As what?” I asked.

“As a mere slave,” she said, “surrendering all, giving all, to her master, asking nothing, expecting nothing, of her master.”

“I see,” I said.

“Choose me, choose me!” she begged.

“Slaves do not choose their masters,” I said. “Masters choose their slaves.”

“Choose me!” she wept.

“I cannot,” I said. “You belong to the Pani, to the ship.”

She bent over, before me, her head down. Tears fell to the dirt.

After a time, she looked up, her face tear-stained.

I pointed to my feet, and she bent down, and kissed them. Tears were on my boots.

“Thank you, Master,” she whispered, sensitive of the privilege which had been accorded to her, however unworthy she might be. She, a mere slave, had been permitted to kiss the feet of a free man.

“Master,” she said.

“Yes,” I said.

“All women are slaves,” she whispered.

“Oh?” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she whispered.

“I did not know that,” I said.

“It is true,” she said.

“Excellent,” I said.

I smiled. I had thought that a secret shared only by strong free men, the sort who have women only as slaves, the sort before whom a woman can be only a slave, the sort before whom they remove their clothing and kneel.

She then looked up. “Perhaps,” she said, “a free man may conduct a slave to her kennel.”

“It will be so,” I said.