Players of Gor

10 A Pleasant Morning in Camp; The Lady Yanina Will Obey

"Are you comfortable, Lady Telitsia?" asked Boots.

"Yes," she said. She knelt, her wrists tied together over her head, fastened by a short strap to a transversely mounted, sturdy wooden bar. It was about five feet from the ground. It was the morning after he had acquired her.

"Surely you are bluffing, and you have no intention of going through with this," she said. She was naked, except for a collar. The legend on the collar said, "If you find me, return me to Boots Tarsk-Bit. Reward." It was the same collar as was worn by Boots's other girls. He had put it on her immediately after returning to the camp last night. He had then chained her in the girl wagon, on one of the open, steel-floored, steel-sided kennels, and retired. This morning, early, he had dragged her forth and bound her in her present position. He had then h ad a large breakfast. Doubtless she was quite hungry. Still she had not yet been fed. That was just as well, considering what was to be done to her.

Boots shook out the blades of a five-stranded Gorean slave ship.

"As I recall," said Boots, "you said, at the fair, that you were not afraid of men."

She was silent.

"How proudly you said that," marveled Boots, swinging the freed lash blades loosely. "To be sure, at that time, you probably had never had any reason to be afraid of men. Now that you are a slave, however, you will find that you do have reason, and ample reason, and not only to fear men, but, indeed, any free person."

"I am hungry," she said. "Am I to be fed?"

"Perhaps when you learn to beg for it," he said.

"Never," she said.

"Did you enjoy your night in the girl wagon?" he asked.

"No," she said. "The steel was cold. I did not even have a rag to put between myself and the steel."

"To be sure, the nights are chilly," said Boots.

"I would like to have a blanket in the future," she said.

"There might be a shred of a blanket somewhere about," said Boots. "Perhaps you could beg for it."

"Never," she said.

"I gave you some time last night, while you were chained in the girl wagon," said Boots, "to consider your up-coming beating this morning. Did you give it much thought?"

"No," she said.

"Why not?" asked Boots.

"You would not dare to beat me," she said.

"Why not?" asked Boots, eager to be informed.

"Because of the kind of person I am," she said. "I am above being beaten. That is for low females."

"Such as slaves?" asked Boots.

"Yes," she said.

"I see," said Boots.

"As it turns out," she said, "I am right."

"How is that?" asked Boots.

"If you were going to beat me," she said, "you would have already done so by now."

"I have been giving my breakfast some time to digest," said Boots. "I would not wish to upset my stomach."

"Of course not," she said, ironically.

"But now," said Boots, "I think I will be all right."

"What?" she asked, half turning about.

"You have been a nuisance, Lady Telitsia," he said. "I think I will very much enjoy whipping you."

"You're serious!" she suddenly said, alarmed.

"Yes," he admitted.

"Wait!" she said, twisting in the ropes. "I am prepared to admit that in some legal sense I am a slave, and that I am theoretically subject to such things!"

"Very much more so than theoretically, my dear," said Boots.

"But I am too refined, too sensitive to be whipped!"

"Nonsense," said Boots.

"It is inappropriate to whip me," she said. "I am a lady of quality."

"You are only another slave," said Boots.

"Wait!" she cried.

"What now?" asked Boots, impatiently.

"I am bound," she wept, twisting in the ropes. "I am naked. I am tied in such a way that I cannot protect myself. I am exposed helplessly, utterly, to your mercy."

"Of course," said Boots.

"But it will hurt," she said.

"Have you ever felt the whip?" asked Boots.

"No!" she said.

"Then how do you know it will hurt?" he asked.

"I have seen girls beaten," she said.

"Perhaps it does not hurt much," said Boots. He himself, of course, earlier, at her instigation, when she was a free woman, had been flogged at the fair. This turnabout then must have been extra delicious for him, in addition to the simple, straightforward pleasure of giving her a good beating. To be sure, Boots had been beaten with a heavy whip, of the sort used on men, whereas she would find herself under only the familiar, common five-stranded Gorean salve lash. Still it is not without reason that that implement is much favored on Gor for the disciplining of females. Without permanently marking the girl it punishes with excruciating, terrible efficiency. The mere sight of wsuch a whip generally inspires terror in any female who has ever felt it.

"Do not whip me!" she cried. "It is not necessary! I admit that I am a slave! I am a slave! I will even obey!"

"Prepare to be beaten," said Boots.

"Mercy!" she cried.

"To quote someone I once heard at the fair," said Boots, "I do not choose to show you mercy."

The bound female groaned, hearing her own words.

"Prepare," said Boots.

"No! No!" she cried, springing to her feet, her bare feet raising dust, her bound wrists, of course, still tethered to the bar.

"Back on your knees, Lady Telitsia," said Boots, sternly, "or you will add blows to your beating."

Lady Telitsia, in misery, moaning, trembling, sank back to her knees, her wrists again now over her head.

"Would you like me to cross and bind your ankles?" Boots asked, kindly.

"No," she moaned.

I think she could see the shadow of Boots before her. Her back was illuminated by the morning sun.

"I do not want to be whipped!" she cried.

"It will be good for you to be whipped," said Boots. "It will be good for you to know what it is like. It will help you to understand that you are now truly a slave. Too, it will help to make you a more diligent slave, one more anxious to please."

"Mercy!" she wept.

" 'Slaves, " said Boots, " 'are to be shown no mercy'. I heard someone say that, also, recently, at the Fair of En'Kara. Perhaps you recall it?"

She sobbed, helpless in the ropes, awaiting her beating.

"Slaves are to be shown no mercy," she had said a few days ago at the fair. I recalled it. How uncompromisingly, how coldly, she had said it. Now she herself was a slave.

"Do you recall saying that?" asked Boots.

"Yes," she sobbed.

"Is it true?" asked Boots.

"Yes," she wept.

He then struck her, once, with the lash. She cried out, startled, in pain, in disbelief.

"Yes, what?" he asked.

"Yes, Master!" she cried.

he then struck her again. "No, no!" she cried out. "Please do not strike me again, Master!"

"It will be done with you as your Master pleases," he said.

"Yes, Master!" she sobbed.

He then, with a few blows, concluded her beating. It was neither a long nor a severe beating. Still he had placed the blows diversely and had varied their timing. It was in its way a kindly beating, as Boots was a kindly fellow, but it was also, I think, an efficient beating.

When Boots had finished he untied the strap that had fastened her bound wrists to the wooden bar. She fell to her belly in the dust and reached out, her wrists still bound, to touch his ankles. She put down her head and, lying in the dust before him, pressed her lips, those of a slave, again and again, piteously, to his feet. Boots then turned away and went about this business. She then lay on her belly in the dust, collapsed, near the wooden bar to which she had been tied for her beating. I went to her and turned her over with my foot. She looked up at me. She was in misery and in pain.

"You are branded," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"You wear a collar," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"What are you?" I asked.

"I am a female slave," she said, "a slave girl."

"Anything else?" I asked.

"No, Master," she said. "Only that."

"It is true," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

I saw in her eyes that she now knew these things to be true, that she now truly knew that she was a slave girl, that and only that.

"What am I to do, Master?" she asked.

"Go to your Master," I said, "and beg him to forgive you for having been displeasing."

"Yes, Master," she said. She rose painful to her feet and went slowly, painfully, to where Boots was sitting cross-legged, near the small fire between the wagons. He was now in the midst of enjoying a second breakfast. Chino and Andronicus were with him. She knelt down near him, her bound wrists on her thighs. She dared not speak. After a time, Boots, sucking his fingers, removing the grease from fried tarsk strips from them, turned about. She quickly, under the eyes of her master, put her head down to the dirt. "Did you wish something, girl?" asked Boots.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"You may speak," said Boots.

"I beg your forgiveness, Master," she said, her head still down, "for having been displeasing."

"Mend your way in the future," cautioned Boots, sternly. "Next time it may not go as easily with you."

"Yes, Master," she said, trembling.

Boots then helped himself to some more rolls and slices of fried tarsk.

Lady Telitsia, as it seemed she would be called now, at least for the time, then lifted her head and straightened her body. She remained kneeling, of course, in the immediate vicinity of her master.

"Good rolls," said Boots to Chino.

"Yes," agreed Chino, helping himself to another, as well.

"Excellent vulo eggs, excellent tarsk," said Boots, his mouth full.

"Quite," agreed Andronicus, wiping his fingers fastidiously on his tunic.

Lady Telitsia eyed the food, hungrily, pitiously. She squirmed. I heard her small, lovely, rounded belly growling.

"Did you say something, my dear?" asked Boots.

"No, Master," she said, quickly.

Boots returned to his repast. I wondered how long it had been since Lady Telitsia had been fed.

More noises emanated from her pretty belly. She put down her head in embarrassment.

"Lady Telitsia," said Boots. "Clean my hands."

She came forward and began to lick his cupped hands and then to suck his fingers, removing the grease from them. Meanwhile he continued to talk with Chino and andronicus.

"Slowly and more sensuously," said Boots.

"Yes, Master," she groaned. She looked up at him. Their eyes met. Their exchange of glances was quite meaningfull. Then she complied, as best she could, given that she had only recently been a free woman. She, apparently half starved, had been too eagerly licking and sucking at the grease on his hands and fingers.

"Better," he said. "Better." Then he dried his hands, aprtly on her body, partly on her hair, and returned his attention to his companions. As he had touched her body I had noted that she had gasped and, ever so lsightly, had pressed against his hand. I do not think, however, this action had been lost on Boots, either. The slave, "Lady Telitsia," had in her, I suspected, superb slave potential. Up to now, of course, as a free woman, given her conditioning and what was expected of her in her cluture, she had undobtedly, possibly even agonizingly, resisted her sexuality, fighting to control and suppress her slave drives. Now, of course, now that she had been freed of the psychological chains, the confining restrictions, the imprisoning inhibitions of the free woman, I had little doubt that she, and perhaps even soon, would prove to be a helplessly arousable, helplessly yielding slave, a joy both to herself and her masters.

"That is enough," said Boots.

"Master," she said.

"Yes?" said Boots.

"May I have permission to speak, Master?" she asked.

"You need only ask-sometimes," siad Boots.

"Thank you, Master," she said, gratefully. "Master-"

"Were you given permission to speak?" asked Boots.

"No, master," she whispered. "Forgive me, Master."

Boots regarded her, sternly.

"But you said I need only ask," she whispered, frightened.

"I said, 'You need only ask-sometimes, " said Boots. "This is not one of those times. You may not now speak."

'Yes, Master," she said. "Forgive me, Master." She then knelt back on her hells, not permitted to speak, a chastened slave.

"Ah," siad Boots, seeing me. "Are you hungry? Come join us."

"Thank you," I said, and sat down with them, cross-legged. It was still rather early. Soon I was helpign myself to a heaping serving of vulo eggs, tarsk strips and rolls.

"Perhaps you should feed our captive soon," siad Boots. He referred to the free woman, the Lady Yanina, shackled and chained by the neck under my wagon.

"Yes," I said. "I will take her a plate of food when I am finished here." One must show concern for her, of course. She was a free woman.

"You are going with us at least as far as Brundisium?" said Boots.

"That is my plan," I said.

"What takes you to Brundisium?" asked Boots.

"Mainly Petrucchio's wagon, I would suppose," I said. "and his tharlarion. He was kind enough to loan them to me. I may walk opart of the way, of course."

"Seriously," said Boots.

"I am quite serious," I said. "Walking is an excellent exercise."

"It is quite early in the morning for wit as scintillating as yours," observed Boots.

"Sorry," I said.

"Have you ever considered a career upon the stage?" he inquired.

"No," I said.

"It is probably just as well," he speculated.

"Perhaps," I admitted, somewhat grudgingly, not altogether convinced.

"What are you going to do in Brundisium?" asked Boots.

"That will depend, I expect," I said, "on what I find in Brundisium."

"Come now," said Boots.

"Business," I informed him.

"I see," said Boots. "I am glad that is cleared up."

I bit on some crisp tarsk strips.

"You are certainly a communicative fellow this morning," said Boots.

"The tarsk is good," I said.

"I am glad you like it," said Boots. "Brundisium, as I have warned you earlier, may be dangerous. The7 seem quite suspicious of strangers the last year or so."

"You do not know why, though?" I asked.

"No," he said.

"You are a good fellow, Boots," I said. "I appreciate your concern."

"I think I know how you intend to use your captive, at least as far as your participation in our show is concerned," said Boots, "but beware. If she is of Brundisium, or is known in Brundisium, it could be very dangerous for you there."

"In the vicinity of Brundisium, or within her walls," I said, "I could keep her hooded. If it seemed desirable, too, of course, I could always have her reduce to slavery before nearing, or entering, the city. She would then be of no legal interest to anyone, for whe would then be only a slave, only chattel."

"Of course," said Boots.

"It was a good breakfast," I siad. "I had better take her some food now."

"Yes," said Boots. "You must not keep her hungry. You must show her consideration. She is a free woman."

"Of course," I said.

I slowly, carefully, piled a plate high with rolls, eggs and fried vulo strips. It had probably been a long time since the Lady Yanina had eaten. She had been in the care of the brigands. She was probably quite hungry. I could always watch her feedings later, giving attention to theri possible effect on her figure. That would be if I decided, later, to turn her into a love captive, or, if it pleased me, a thousand times lower, nay, a thousand thousand times lower, nay, even uncountably times lower, nay not even on the same scale, a slave. Boots's slave, Lady Telitsia, eyes the plate hungrily, desperately. I thought I heard her whimper, softly. Certainly there were some piteous noises at any rate which suddenly, unexpectedly, perhaps to her embarrassment, emanated from her pretty belly."

"Did you say something?" asked Boots.

"No, Master," she said, hastily. She had been warned to silence.

I rose to my feet.

"May I have the plate a moment?" asked Boots.

"Surely," I said. I handed it to him.

He held it before Lady Telitsia. "It smells good, doesn't it?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," she said. She leaned forward, her eyes closed. She breathed in, deeply, relishing the odor of the fresh-cooked breakfast. She opened her eyes, looking at her master, piteously.

Boots handed the plate to me, and I carreied it between the wagons until I came to my wagon.

There, beneath my wagon, sitting down, her knees drawn up, was the Lady Yanina, once my captor. On her neck was an iron collar. By means of this collar and its chain, the chain fastened about the wagon axle, she was secured in place.

I put down the plate of food. "Ankles," I said.

She turned a little and, angrily, lowering her knees slightly, tugging the hem of her garment closely about her lower claves, exteneded her ankles toward me. I checked the gyves. All was in order. There was no sign of the metal having been tampered with, for example, scratched about the lock, or makred on the bands, as though haveing been struck futilely with a stone. Similarly her ankles were not cut or abraided as though she might have tried to slip the iron from her fair limbs. Such an action, of course, would have been ludicriously irrational. The Lady Yanina was not a foolish, panic-stricken Earth girl, new to bondage, its possibility scrcely having earlier entered her ken, frenziedly, absurdly trying to remove fetters from her body, but a Groean woman. She well knew that females locked in Gorean iron do not escape. Its stern, inflexible clasp is not designed to be eluded by she whom it confines and ornaments. Women in such bonds must ehlplessly await the pleasure of their captors. I thrust back her ankles.

"As you can see," she said, bitterly, "I continue to be held, perfectly."

Her ankles looked beautiful, confined in the steel. Too, she had spoken the truth.

I then checked her collar, and the attachment points of the chain, both at the collar and at the double loop where it was fastened about eh axle.

"I am perfectly secured," she said, angrily.

"I am sorry if chain check distresses you," I said. "You comprehend its rationale, of course."

"Yes," she sasid, angrily.

"It is procedurally recommended by the caste of slavers," I said.

"I am not a slave," she said.

"Chains, I suspect, do not much care whether it is a noble free woman whom they confine or a mere slave."

"Are you satisfied?" she asked, insolently. "Do I pass chain check?"

"Yes," I said. "You are perfectly secured."

She looked frightened for a moment, and her tow hands closed on the chain dangling from her collar. She drew on it a moent, almost inadvertently, and felt the tug at the collar ring. Then she removed her hands from the chain and regarded me, again the free woman, again insolent.

"See what you have given me to wear," she said, angrily lifting the hem of the garment I had fashioned for her last night.

"I gathered you did not apporve of the htin white gown the bringands had put you in," I said. "Surely it had little purpose other than to display you well for sale to a slaver and, in its piteousness, to invite its casual removal."

"I am a rich woman," she said, angrily. "I have status and position. In Brundisuim I hold high station, being a member of the household of Belnar, her Ubar. I am highly intelligent. I am educated and refined. I have exquisite taste. I am accumstomed to the finest silks, the most expensive materials. I have my gowns, my robes, even my veils, especially made for me by high cloth workers!"

"I am not a high cloth worker," I said, "but I did make it especially for you."

"Your skills leave something to be desired," she said.

"You are probably right," I said.

"I wear only the latest fashions!" she said.

"Perhaps you could start a new fashion," I said.

"How dare you dress me as you have!" she said.

"At least it is opaque," I said.

"That is true," she said, ironically.

"And it is long," I said, "and thus protective of your modesty."

"I am certain that I am grateful," she said.

"And so what is your complaint?" I inquired. As she was a free woman, it seemed I should be concerned, at least to some extent, with any complaints which she might have. A slave, of course, in distinction from a free woman, is not permitted complaints. She must try to obtain things in other ways, for example, by humble requests while kneeling or lying on her belly before her master.

She cried out angrily and jerked in frustration at the chain on her neck.

"It conceals your figure, at least to some degree," I said.

"You could at least have given me a belt," she said.

"It will conceal your figure bettter, unbelted," I said.

"Please," she asid.

"No," I said.

She cried out in anger, in frustration.

"It is difficult to stand in close chains," she said.

"There," I said, not pleasantly, indicating a place beside the wheel, beside the wagon.

"Very well," she said, rising, and clutching the wagon wheel, and pulling herself up, and around it. "One woman has been beaten in this camp this morning. I have no desire to be the second." These words interested me. A woman behaves very differetnly toward a man whom she knows is capable of disciplining her and may, if it pleases him, do so, then toward one whom she knows she may treat with contempt and scorn with impunity.

"Turn," I said. "Now, turn back."

She clutched the wagon wheel to keep her balance, now again facing me.

"How can I be attractive in this?" she asked.

Last night, after bringing her to the camp, I had removed the offensive, light white gown from her body, that to which she, a free woman, so objected, that in which the brigands to her dismay had insolently clothed her, and, from something I found in the camp, prepared her new garment. I had cut a hole in the material for her head, and two more holes for her arms. I had then had her put her arms over her head and had pulled the garment down over her body. She was then in it. She was then stnading there, regarding me with rage. "Excellent," I had said. I had then chained her by the neck under the wagon and had gone to bed.

"I do not know," I said, "but you are managing."

"It is a sack!" she cried. "Only a sack!"

That was true. It was a long, yellow, closely woven Sa-Tarna sack. If there could have been any doubt about it such doubt would have been dispelled by the thick, black, stenciled lettering on the bag, giving a bold and unmistakable account of its earlier contents, together with their grind and grade, and the signs of the processing mill and its associated wholesaler.

"Am I to gather that you are dissatisfied?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, acidly.

"The yellow sets off your hair nicely," I said. Perhaps if I enslaved her, I would put her in yellow slave silk. She was a beautiful woman.

"This makes me look ridiculous," she said.

"It is not unknown for free teen-age girls of poor families, in rural areas, to wear such garment," I said. Also, of course, it was not unknown for such girls to put themselves in the way of salvers, that they might be caught, and carried to cities, to be sold. Too often, however, it seemed they were merely sold to peasants in distant villages as sex and work slaves.

"I am not the simple, dirty, barefoot, unkempt, scrawny teen-age daughter of some destitute peasaant in ssome out-of-the-way place," she said. "I am the Lady Yanina of Brundisium!"

"You are barefoot," I said. Prisoners, as well as slaves, are often kept that way on Gor.

"This garment makes me look ridiculous," she said.

"You might look a bit silly," I siad, "but you do not look all the ridiculous. Indeed, I have never seen anyone wear a Sa-Tarna sack better."

"Thank you," she said, in fury.

"You're welcome," I said.

"Give me back the white gown," she said, "that in which the brigands put me!" she said. "I prefer that!"

"That garment," I remeinded her, "is strikingly attrative. It excitingly sets off your beauty. No free owman would consider wearing such a garment unless she was implicitly begging, pleading, for a collar. The brigands doubtless put you in it because it seemed an appropriate garment for a woman they were preparing for a full enslavement."

"I prefer it," she said, angrily.

"Are you a slave?" I asked.

"No!" she said.

"Why, then, would you wish to wear it?" I asked.

"It is pretty," she said, defensively.

I smiled. It was actually tauntingly, brazenly sensuous. "why would you wish to wear womething pretty?" I asked.

"To look nice," she said.

"Why do you wish to look nice?" I asked.

"I think better of myself then," she said.

"How do you know when something is pretty?" I asked.

"I just see that it is pretty," she said, puzzled.

"Think more deeply," I said.

"when it makes me attracitive," she said. "Then it is pretty."

"It seems then that the test for prettiness is the enhancement of your appearance, and this is understood in terms of increasing your attractiveness."

"Perhaps," she said, cautiously.

"Attractivness to what end?" I asked. "Attractiveness to whom?"

"I do not now," she said, sullenly.

"Come now," I encouraged her.

"I am a full-grown woman," she said, agnrily, "I like to be attractive to men!"

"You dress then," I speculated, "in certain says, in order to be attractive to men."

"Perhaps," she said, agnrily.

"She who is concerned with such matters," I said, "she who dresses in certain ways in order to make herself attractive to men, she who dresses herself in certain sayw in odrder that she may be pleasing to them, is, in her heart, a slave."

"Then all females are slaves at heaart," she swaid, angrily.

"Yes," I said.

"No!" she cried.

"And they weill never be fully content," I said, "until they are imbonded."

"No, no, no!" she cried. "No! No!"

I let her cry out in misery, resisting my suggestions. It was good for her.

Then she wiped her forearm across her eyes. "You distract me from the issue," she said. "The issue is my wardrobe."

"Very well," I said.

"Give me somehting else to wear," she said.

"No," I said.

"I am the Lady Yanina of Brundisium," she said. "I do not wear sacks."

"Oh," I said.

"I will wear nothing for a grament before I will wear a sack," she said.

"That can be arranged," I saiid.

"What are you doing?" she asked. "Why are you drawing your knife?"

"To remove the sack from yo," I said. "Nakedness in your chains is acceptable to me."

"No," she said, takinga step backward, clinging to the wagon wheel. "I will wear it!"

I sheathed the knife. "Are you hungry?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

I reached down and picked up the breakfast which I had put to the side before commencing her chain check.

"It is cold," she said. "Take it away, and bring me another."

"This is your breakfast this morning," I said, "and your only breakfast this morning. Eat it, and as it it, or not, as it pleases you."

"Are you serious?" she said.

"Yes," I said.

"Give it to me," she said. I handed her the plate. She began to attack the food voraciously. she might have been a starving slave. I supposed that she, like Lady Telitsia, had probably both been fed spraingly by the brigands, perhaps to conserve food, perhaps to slim their figures somewhat before their projected sale.

I watched her eat. In the Tahari a woman is often stuffed with food for days before her sale, even force fed, if necessary. Many of the men of the Tahari relish soft, pretty, meaty little slaves.

"Why are you looking at my ankles?" she asked.

"They are pretty," I said. Too, the gyves, sturdy and snug, looked nice on them, both from the aesthetic point of view and from the point of view of their significance, for example, that they were mine and that the beauty, confined, wore them. "Too," I said. "I was thinking that perhaps I should remove them, that you could be exercised."

"Doubtless I am to be exercised in the tall grass or in the brush," she said.

"Do not be apprehensive," I said.

"I am to be held in honor," she reminded me.

"At least for the time," I reminded her.

"Yes," she smiled, "at least for the time."

"If you do not wish to be exercised," I said, "I shall not force it upon you. You are a free woman. Not a slave."

"I may continue to wear shackles," she said.

"Yes," I said, "at least for the time."

"Of course," she said.

"Do you enjoy your breakfast?" I asked.

"It is cold," she said.

"Do you enjoy it?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

"Later," I said, "I will give you something briefer and prettier to wear."

"That will be nice," she said.

"While we are performing," I said.

"Perfroming?" she asked. "In what way?"

"You will see," I said.

"I am not a performer," she said. "I do not know anything about performing."

"Your role will be difficult," I said.

"I have had no experience in such matters," she said.

"Do not fear," I said, "you will do just splendidly."

"I am not a slave," she said.

"This role calls for a free woman," I said, "otherwise it would not be nearly so interesting or impressive."

"I see," she said, pleased.

She wiped her plate with a crust of one of the rolls. She did not wish to leave a particle of food on that homely tin surface.

"Do you know the lsave in camp, she called Lady Telitsia?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

"She has not eaten yet," I said.

"So?" asked the Lady Yanina.

"She is probably quite hungry by now," I said.

"So?" she asked.

"I do not think her master would permit her to beg food until a certain free woman, a prisoner in the camp, was fed."

"Probably not," asaid the Lady Yanina. "Why are you bringing the matter up?"

"I thought it might be of interest to you," I said.

"It is not," she said.

"You were common captives of the brigands," I said. "I thought you might have some concern for her."

"No," she said.

"I see," I said.

The Lady Yanina looked at me, and asmiled. She put the piece of crust in her mouth and nibbled on it, slowly. "Let her wait," she said. "She is a slave. Slaves are nothing."

I did not gainsay the Lady Yanina, of course. What she had said was true. I had only brought up the matter as a form of test for her, to satisfy my own curiousity. I wished to more exactly ascertain her self-image. It was, as I had expected, that of the lofty free woman, separating herself, at least publicly, by dimensions and worlds from mere slaves. This was particularly interesting to me in view of the fact that she was herself, obviously, a highly appropriate candidate fo rthe collar. Did she think, truly, she was that different from the slave who, but Ehn ago, had been tied and lashed?

The Lady Yanina handed me the cleaned plate. I put it to one sid. "If I had not eaten the breakfast, you would have tanken it away, and not brought me another, wouldn't you?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"And you will keep me in tis pathetic, degrading garment as long as it pleases you, won't you?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"And if I give you trouble, or inconvenience you in any way, in spite of the fact that I am free, you will whip me, won't you?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"I have always had my own way with men," she said.

"Are you sure you were dealing with men?" I asked.

"Pehaps not," she said.

"Some women do not realize what men are until they must kneel before them and obey."

"Do you find me attractive?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"I want these shackles off," she said, suddenly.

"Do you understand what you are asking?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

"Why?" I asked.

She averted her eyes. "I do not want to be chained under the wagon at night," she said. "It is hard to sleep on the ground. It is uncomfortable. Too, it is cold and miserable."

"I see," I said.

She looked up at me. "I am willing to do whatever is necessary to be permitted in the wagon, where it is warm and dry," she said.

"Speak clearly," I said.

"Remove my shackles," she said. "I am ready to be ketp as a full prisoner."

Woith the key from my pouch I removed her shackles and thebn, too, removed the collar from her neck.

"Proceed me up the steps into the wagon," I said.

She preceded me up the several steps. She drew the hem of her dress up about her calves, that she not trip. Then we were in side the wagon. I locked her hands behind her back. I locked them there iwth slave bracelets. I did not have another form of manacles for her.

"Oh!" she said. I pulled up her garment and drew it up under her arms and over her breasts, and then hooded her with it. "Kneel here, facing the door," I said. "And wait."

She knelt, braceleted, hooded, in the narrow space betw4en the two bunks, facing the door.

I then left the wagon, padlocking it shut behind me. IN a moment or so, retrieving the plate, I rejoined Boots near the fire. He was still eating. I am not clear whether this was a third breakfast, or a mere continuation of a somewhat prolonged second breakfats. In the case of Boots, such distinctions would occasionally prove difficult to draw. "The free woman has been fed," I announced.

"It is just as well," said Boots. "It is nearly time for lunch."

Boots was given to such jocular hyperbole. It was actually several Ehn until lunch time.

He gazed at Lady Telitsia. She wavered, slightly, and caught herself. I feared she might faint with hunger.

"May I speak, Master?" she whispered.

"Yes," he said.

She put her head down to the dirt. Her wrists were still tied before her body. "I beg for food, Master." she said.

"Are you hungry?" asked Boots.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"How long has it been since you have eaten?" inquired Boots.

"Since dawn, yesterday," she said, "when I, only a lowly slave, and the other woman, she noble and free, were fed in the brigand's camp."

"You are probably hungry, then," said Boots.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Do you beg on your belly?" inquired Boots.

"Yes, Master," she said, putting her bound wrists forward and lowering herself to her belly. She lifted her head. It was at Boots's knee.

"Speak," said Boots.

"I beg food," she said.

"Speak more clearly," said Boots.

"Lady Telitsia begs for at the hands of her master," she aid.

"Turn to your side," said Boots.

She then lay on her left side. Boots then, delicately, carefully, bit by bit, by hand, fed her. After a time he let her kneel near him and then he continued, but by bit, little by little, to feed her from his hand. She looked up at him, from the palm of his hand, which she had been licking. She looked up at him in gratitude. It was on him that her food depended. Boots then piled a plate with food and put it down before her. "Head down," he cautioned her. "Do not use your hands." She then put her head down and ate from the plate, not touching it with her hands. Finally she was even licking at the plate. She, like the free woman, the Lady Yanina, had be ravenous. Boots then took the plate from her. "Kneel here," he said. She knelt immediately, obediently, where he had indicated, facing him. "Thank you, Master," she said, "for feeding me."

"What do you think?" asked Boots.

"A pretty slave," I said.

"Thank you, Master," she whispered, trembling.

From her reaction I conjectured she was a virgin.

"On your back!" said Boots. "Put your hands over your head! Throw your legs apart, widely!"

"What do you think?" asked Boots.

"She is clumsy," I said, "but she is prompt and earnest."

"I cannot even use her in a girl tent now," said Boots, gloomily. "They would demand their money back. She is desperately in need of training."

"I think she will learn quickly," I said.

"She will, or she will be regularly lashed," said Boots.

"You will prove to be an apt pupil, will you not, Lady Telitsia?" I asked.

"I will struggle to learn!" she said, "I will try to do my best to please my Masters!"

"You will prove to be an apt pupil, will you not, Lady Telitsia?" I repeated.

"Yes, Master!" she said.

"Kneel," said Boots.

Swiftly she scrambled to her knees.

Boots regarded her. "I suppose you will prove to be troublesome," he mused, grimly.

"No, Master!" she said.

"Or you will fail to be fully pleasing, and it will be necessary to sell you for sleen feed," he said.

"No, Master!" she said.

"You have dared beg for food," he said. "You grow bold. Doubtless next you will wish a scrap of blanket for the girl wagon, or next even, outrageous effrontery, a brief rag to conceal some bits of your beauty, at least provisionally, from the eyes of men."

"Let it be down with me as my Master desires," she said. "I am his slave."

"The slave's response seems suitable," I said.

"Perhaps," admitted Boots, grudgingly. "Lift your wrists," he said to the girl.

She did so, putting her head down, between her then-lifted arms. Boots removed the thongs from her wrists. "Put your hands on your thighs," he said. He then regarded her, kneeling naked, frightened, before him, her hands on her thighs. Her knees were press3ed closely together. This is a natural, defensive posture in a new female slave.

"Perhaps later," said Boots, "when you have had more training, I will permit you to knee with your knees wide."

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Are you not grateful?" inquired Boots.

"Yes, Master," said the girl,"Thank you, Master."

"Now seek out Rowena, the blond slave," said Boots. "I am using her now as first girl in the camp. She will put you about your duties."

"Yes, Master," said the girl, rising.

"Slave," said Boots.

"Yes, Master?" said the girl, turning, and dropping again to her knees, addressed by a free man.

"On second thought," said Boots, "go to my wagon, there. Enter it. Inside, facing the front of the wagon, kneel down, putting your head to the floor. I think I will begin your training."

"Yes, Master," she said, frightened, and leaped up, hurrying to his wagon, to obey.

"It seems we will not be leaving this camping area today," I said.

"Tomorrow will be soon enough," said Boots. He then rose to his feet, belched, spit on his hands, wiped them on his tunic, and stalked slowly, ponderously, like a good-natured, rotund, draft tharlarion, perhaps having eaten too much, toward his wagon.

In a moment or two I, too, had left the gray, smoldering ashes of the breakfast fire behind me. I then found myself at my own wagon. I climbed the stairs, taking no care to conceal my approach. I noisily removed the padlock from the door, and let it fall back against the side of the door, suspended on its short chain. I would wait a long moment before I opened the door. Within, inside the wagon, the Lady Yanina would be kneeling. Next she would obey.