Rogue of Gor

11. Peggy

"I will use the one in that alcove," I said to Tasdron, flinging down a tarsk bit on the stained counter. "She is yours," said Tasdron, wiping a paga goblet with a large soft cloth.

I strode across the floor of the tavern of Tasdron and entered the alcove. The blond girl knelt there, nude, against the back wall of smooth, rounded red tiles. I turned about and buckled shut the heavy curtains of the alcove and then again faced her.

Her wrists, by several narrow loops of red leather on each wrist, were tied to iron rings on each side of her body, a little below the level of her shoulder. The former customer had left her tired n this fashion, not bothering to release her. I was just was well pleased. I wished to interrogate her. She knels on red furs. The light was from a tiny tharlarion-oil lamp in the alcove. Tasdron's collar was on her throat.

"Master?" she asked, pressing back against the rounded-red tiles.

"Do you recall me?" I asked. "Do you recall I was the fellow who challenged in this tavern, and who was threatened by Kliomenes, the pirate, the fellow who was saved, happily, by one called Callimachus.

"Yes Master," she said, "I was here. I remember. He is Callimachus of Port Cos."He was once of the Warriors?" I asked."It is thought so," she said. "So it is said among the girls." "Have you seen me before?" I asked.

"It does seem possible, Master," she said. "I am only a slave." "It seemed to me before," I said, "that you reacted to me as though you might once have seen me, as though I might be somehow familiar to you." "It is true," sahe said. "It seemed to me that, somehow, I had seenyou before. Ye I do not see how, actually, that could be. I am only a miserable slave."

"Were you always a slave?" I asked. "No, Master," she said. "I was once free." "On Gor?" I asked. "No, Master," she said. She smiled. "I am afraid that women such as I are slaves on Gor."

"Where were you free?" I asked. "On a far world," she said. "Where slaves are not enslaved?" I asked. "Yes, Master," she smiled.

"What is your name?" I asked. "Peggy," she said. "if it pleases Master," "That is an Earth-girl name," I said. "Ar you from the planet Earth?" "yes Master," she said, "but please do not whip me. It is not my fault that Earth is my planet of origin. I will try to be pleasing to you." "Earth girls make excellent slaves," I said. "Thank you Master," she said. "Do y ou speak the Earth language, English?" I asked. "Yes, Master," she said."I too speak English," I said. "Let us converse in that tongue." "Yes, Master," she said. "What was your earth name?" I asked. "Peggy," she said, "Peggy Baxter."

"Where did you work?" I asked. "In a city calledNew York," she said, "as a hat-check girl at a restaurant." "Yes!" I said, "That's it!" Master?" she asked, frightened. "I had thought I had seen you," I said. "It was there." "There?" she asked.

"You wore black, low-cut shoes with high heels, without strap or ties," I said.

"Pumps," she said. "You wore black-net stockings or pantyhose," I said."You wore ablack miniskirt and a long-sleeved, smooth white silk blouse, open at the throat. You had a black ribbon for your hair.

"Panty hose," she said, "But they were taken from me." I noeeded. Gorean men seldom permit a slave shielding for her warm intimacies.

"Apparently, I was not the only one who say you there," I said. "Some other or others," I said,"must have seen you as well, and adjudged you worthy to be brought to Gor as a slave girl."Yes, Master," she said."I commend their judgement and taste," I said. "Thank you Master," she said.

"How is it that you were originally captured on Earth?" I asked."After work late," she said, "I left the restaurant. A cab was nearby. I thought myself fortunate. I entered the cab. It was a specially designed capture vehicle. I found myself helplessly sealed within it. Gas entered my mobile prison. I lost consciousness. I did not recover consciousness until I found myself chained in a girl-dungeon on Gor. I awakened to the whip and the hands of a brute upon me. I swiftly learned I was a slave."

"I think that I myself and a friend," I said, "were captured by the same cab, the same devices." I recalled that the cab driver in the garage had said that he had anohter pickup to make that night. His next pickup, doubtless, had been the lovely, long-legged Miss Baxter."Did you get off work at two A.M." I asked. "Yes," she said, "How did you know?"

"I heard the pickup of someone referred to who got off work at two A.M.," I said. "Doubtless it was I," she said shuddering. "I think so," I said.

"Master speaks English fluently," she said apprehensively. Her hands twisted in the straps.

"Were you brought to the House of Andronicus, in Vonda?" I asked."Yes," she said, "where I was given rudimentary slave training and learned a smattering ofGorean.

I was sold in vonda to a taverner in Tancred's Landing. Tasdron saw me there and fancied me. He brought me here, where I now wearhis collar." She looked at me. "Is Master a slaver?" she asked. "No," I said. "How is it that Master speaks English?" she asked. "It is my native tongue," I said. "I was brought to Gor, rather accidentally, as a slave. I became free." "Master is cruel to tease a miserable slave," said the girl.

"How am I teasing you?" I asked puzzled. She laughed. "Do not expect me to believe that Master is a man of Earth," she said. "I am not a fool." "I am from the planet Earth," I said. "You are cruel to a miserable slave," she said. "Why do you not believe I am from Earth?" I asked puzzled.

"You are not pathetic and weak." she said. "And your eyes, they look at me and see me as a female slave."

I smiled. Indeed she was beautiful."The men of Gor," she said, "are strong. They are not weak and divided against themselves. They are not tortured. They are integrated and coherent, and proud. They see themselves in the order of nature. They see females as femals, as slaves and themselves as men, as Masters. If we do not please them they punish us, or slay us. We quickly learn our place in the order of things. Only where there are true men can there be true women.

"But you are a naked and collared slave," I said, "bound in a paga tavern." "I am a woman," she smiled,"something that I never was truly on Earth."

"I see," I said.

"We are small and weak and soft and beautiful," she said,"and we have dispositions to yield and to love and serve, selflessly. We long for masters. We cannot be fulfilled until we find them." She smiled. "And then on Gor," she said, "we look up and startled find them standing over us. The whip is in their hand. They will take no nonsense from us. It is any wonder we love them so?

"I was once from Earth," I said. "I find that hard to belive," she said. I shrugged.

"Look at me," she said. I grinned and she reddened. "What do you see," she asked, "an abused woman to be hastily freed or a slave tethered for a man's pleasure?" "A slave," I said, "tethered for aman's pleasure. "You see," she said, "you are Gorean."

"And as what do you see yourself," I asked, "as an abused woman, hoping to be hastily freed, or as a slave, tied to rings, who hopes her master will see fit to linger over her?"

"A slave," she smiled, "one fatened helplessly, tied to rings, who hopes that she will be found sufficiently pleasing that a master will see fit to linger oer her, driving her to a madness of imbonded joy."

"Do you wish to be freed?" I asked. "A woman such as I, on Gor," she laughed, "has no hope of freedom." I smiled. I did not doubt that. She had even been named Peggy. That name, an Earth-girl name, madeit perfectly clear that her master regarded her categorically and totally as a slave. It had been her name on Earth. Now, of course, she wore it as a slave name, by the decision of her master. Sles in their own right have no names. They are animals.

"But do you wish to be freed?" I asked. "No, Master," she said. "But you are a woman of Earth,"I said. "So, Master?" she asked puzzled. "Surely then you wish to be free?" I asked. "Why," she asked. "You are a woman of Earth," I said. "Do you think tht in the bellies of the females of Earth there does not lurk a true woman?" she asked. "I do no tknow," I said. "We are not men, really," she said. "You would be well advised not to say things like that on Earth." I said. "I know," she said. "On Earth, I did not speak the depths of my feelings. I did not dare. I did not wish to be criticized by men or by unhappy, frustrated women."

I nodded. the culural penalties inflicted on those who speak the truth can be severe. "I kept silent," she said, "and longed for a master." "Is not freedom precious?" I asked.

"I have been free," she said. "I know what it is like." "Is it not precious?" I asked. "Yes," she said, "It is precious, very precious. and sometimes I miss it very much. Sometimes I wish I were again free. Sometimes when I am chained aat night or whipped or commaned and must do things I do not wish to do, I wish I were again free. And sometimes, I am terribly afrid when I think of the power my masters have over me." "I see," I said.

"But then too, " she said. "I find myself exquisitely thrilled, and responsive to the very power, the force, the discipline, to which I am subject. To know that I am a slave and must obey fulfills something very deep in me."I see," I said. "Sometimes at night," she said, "I find myself almost without thinking about it, licking the bars of my cage, kissing the steel on my wrists."

"Do you fear your masters?" I asked. "Of course," she said, "they hold over me the power of life and death." "But yet, " I asked, "you find them terribly exciting?" "I find them terribly exciting," she said, "both emotionally and physically. I can scarcely be near them without catching my breath, without feeling slightly afraid and trembling.

"They own you," I said."Yes," she said. "When they look upon you, do you feel sexual heat?" I asked. "Often," she said. "and if they should snap their fingers and point to the floor," I asked. "Then I would swiftly lie before them, and as a slave," she said.

"You are eager to please them?" I asked. "Yes," she said," and I am their slave." She smiled at me. "Do these responses," she asked, "startle you, coming as they do from a woman once of Earth?" "There seems little in you now of Earth," I said.

"True," she smiled. She pulled at the tongs. "I am now only a Gorean slave girl," she said.I said nothing.

"The women of Earth are also women," she said. "Do not despise them for it. Accept them for what they are. There is nothing wrong with being a woman. It is the complementary sex to that of the male. It is nor our fault if, when placed in a proper contest, a biological context, in a biologically congenial civilization, we behave as we desire and must. Is your anger or dismay actually an envy of the Gorean brutes who throw was to their feet and put collars on our necks? Consider that. It may be true. Would you not like some delicious Earth woman as your total slave? If so, how are you so different from the brutes of Gor, who do with us as they wish? It is not our fault if, for whatever reasons, the men of Earth seem determined to turn us into men, and deny to ur our precious and ancient natures. It is hard to be a woman on Earth." She pulled again at the thongs. "But is is not hard, Master on Gor," she smiled. "Gorean men see to it."

"You are a slave," I said. "Are you happy?" "Yes," she said, "radiantly happy." "Why?" I asked.

"I am now in the power of uncompromising and cominant males. I must serve them and please them and as a woman fully. I am owned by them. They bring the fullness of my womanhood out of men and are content with nothing less. On Gor, for the first time in my life, I am a total woman. I am compltely fulfilled. I am incredibly happy."

"You are fond of your slavery?" I asked. "I love my slavery, Master," she said. "Would you like to go back to Earth?" I asked. "No, Master," she said. I regarded her. "See my brand," she said.

I did so. I tws the common Kajira mark. It was the same brand worn by Miss Henderson. Both girls were lelft-thigh branded. "My collar," she said.I regarded it. It was simple, narrow, close-fitting, of gleaming steel. "The thongs on my wrists," she said. I looked at her bound writs.

"And my naked body," she said, "tied for a master's pleasure." "Yes," I said. "Am I not an exquisite slave girl?" she asked. "Yes," I said.

"And yet," she said, "I am from the planet Earth. Canyou doubt, truly, then that the women of Earth can be slaves?" No," I said, "I do not doubt it."

"Perhaps you do doubt it," she said. "No," I said, "No."

"Untie me," she said. "Why?" I asked. "I will prove to you that I am a slave," she said. I looked at her not speaking. "Have you held slave inyour arms?" she asked. "Yes," I said, "many times." "sek then," she said, "if I am different.I regarded her.

"Touch me," she begged. I smiled, ignoring her plea. She learned back, her writs bound at the rings. "You are clearly Gorean," she said. "I see that I must wait upon your will."

I sat, cross-legged, for some time, watching her. Then her eyes looked pleadingly at me. I could smell the heat of her. "do you beg to be had and as a slave?" I asked. "Yes Master," she whispered. "I beg to be had, and as a slave." I then slowly untied her.

"So," she asked later, smiling, lying on her stomach beside me, "am I so different?" "No," I said. "You well put me to the test," she laughted. I touched the collar, lightly, at her throat. "Do you doubt that I am a slave"?" she asked. "No," I said. "You see," she said, "that I am a superb slave." "It is true," I said. "Have I not been appropriately and fittingly imbonded?" she asked. "You have been," I said.

"Do I not belong in a slave collar?" she asked. "There is no doubt about it," I said. "You do."

Tasdron had me for a silver tarsk," she said. "A cheap price," I said. "You are worth more." "I am better now," she said, "than when Tasdron bought me. I have learned much." "I would say that you are worth now at least two silver tarsks." "Thank you Master," she wais, warmly, kissing me. "It is hard to believe that you are from Earth." I said. She laughed. "But I am Master," she said. "You saw me there yourself in the restaurant."

"Yes," I said. "When you saw me there," she asked, "did you want to have me?" "Yes," I said. "Master," she said. "Yes," I said. "When I saw you too at the restaurant," she said. "I wondered what it would be like to lie in your arms." "A bold admission," I said. "For an Earth girl who thinks she is free, perhaps," she laughted, "but not for a slave. Slaves may speak such truths." "That is true," I said. "But never for a moment did I dream," she said, "that I would lie naked in your arms as an obedient, collared slave on an alien world."

I then took her by the arm and threw here again beneath me. She looked up happily. "Is Master going to have me again?" she asked. "Yes," I said.

"Peggy is pleased to have been found worthy of the attentions of Master," she said. "Oh," she said, "Master is strong." Then she said, "You are Gorean. I know you are Gorean!" Then she said, "I yield me to my Gorean Master!"

It is pleasant to have a woman yield to you as a slave. I know of nothing which so exalts the power and manhood of the human male. Too there is apparently nothing which so deeply releases the emotions and yielding sensuality of the human female.

In these matters something is touched which obviously bears deeply on the fundamental nature of the sexes.Here in human relations is yet another exemplification of one of the major and incessantly recurrent themes of nature, that of dominance and submission. The realities of nature must be denied, I suspect, only at one's own peril. And certainly human beings cannot be fulfilled, nor can they know themselves, until they have become themselves. The nature of human being precedes the fleeeting parades of mottoes and slogans. It lies latent and obdurate in ambush, if you like, in the genetic codes.

"Permit me to kiss you," she said. "You may do so," I told her.

Is there a human animal beneath the conditioned ideologies? It seems not improbably. We may torture and mutilate the human animal; we may deny that it exists; but it lies within us, in the chemistry of every living cell in our bodies. In denying it we, truly, deny only ourselves. In hating it, we hate our own hearts and our own blood. We are not so terrible, really. It is only that we are men and women and not something else. Perhaps it is wrong to be men and women. Perhaps we should be something else. Perhaps we should consider ourselves images and inventions.Perhaps we whould participate in the mythologies convenient to the manipulative purposes of self-seving elites. Doubtless the question if difficult. It is always hard to know the truth and pretnd not to believe it. Perhaps we should not be men and women. Perhaps we should not be true to ourselves. But even if we should deny ourselves and starve and orture and frustrate ouselves, we wold still in the end be ourselves. We would remain men and women, only then, perhaps mutilated and sickened men and women, useful tools in the schemes of others, of cunning an dpathological frustrates, themselves often as confused and miserable as the uncritical creatures they would systematicaly delude.

We are what we are, and will remain so, regardless of what we may be taught to believe. Fearing ourselves doe not make us not ourselves. Can the human reality, in the fullness of its truth, be truly so fearful a thing. I do not think so. Human naturea may be despised; it may be thwarted; it may be distorted and denied. This may be accomplished by conditioning prorams, obedient to their own antecedents and developing in accord with their own histories and social dynamics.

It is clearly possible to educate the yound to distruct and fear themselves, and to injure and torture themselves. And in turn as a funtion of their ownconditioning programs, they may dutifully bequeath their own tortures to their own young in turn. Yet how much pain must be endured, how much crime and madness,how much unhappiness and misery, before human rationality, that pathetic reed, that faril stuff, that small weapon, that fragile tool, must revole and cry, "No!" How obvious must it be before human being are wiling to realize that a grotesque and biologically inimical inversion of values has taken place? What would be accepted as evidence if not disease, madness, misery, irrationality, frustration, criminality and sickness, that a tragic disparateness now exists between the needs of human beings and the imperatives of society. Must it be human beings who must be wrong? Perhaps it is, rather, those sociological imperatives which have gradually over the centuries, diverged from their orignal instrumentalities to follow their own disconnected and remote trajectories.

To ancient Attia it is said there was a gian, Procrustes. He would seize upon travelers and tie them upon an iron bed. If the traverl was too short for the bed, he would disjoint and break their boies until they fitted it; if they were too long for the bed, he would cut their feet from them, until, they again fitted the bed. Perhaps the bed of Procrustes is the truth and men must be broken or cut to pieces that they may fit it. On the other hand, clearly there is an alternative, although Procrustes seemed not to have heard of it. The bed could be made to fit the guest. Is the bed to conform to the guest or is the guest to conform to the bed. From my own point of view, I would prefer a bed which considered the nature of human beings. I would make the human being the measure by which I judged the value of the beds. I see little of profit in making the bed the measure of the human being, and requiring that we remake, if by torture and mutilation, the human being until it fits the bed. Besides, we cannot remake the human being to fit the bed, truly. We do not make new human beings or better human beings by this method. All we make by that method is broken or mutilated human beings.

"Have me again, Master," she begged. "Very well," I said.

And as she moaned and gasped in my arms, and cried out, and I held her so closely she could not escapel, I pondered the nature of human beings. And then I too, cried out and with force owned her as a woman. In those obliterating movements, I knew who I was and who she was. "Be had, Slave!" I told her. "You give me pleasure." "Yes, Master," she wept.

Later we lay quietly together side by side.

Perhaps it is wrong to be men and women. But on the other hand, perhaps it isnot wrong to be men and women. It is what we are. Perhaps it is not wrong to be what we are. That is a genuine possibility. Perhaps it is not wrong to be what wer are. If that is so, then it may quite possibly be right, or at least morally permissible to be what we are. And if that is true, we may be entitled to our own natures, and the happinesses attendant upon the fulfillment of those natures. How then I envied the Gorean brutes to whom such question couldscarcely arise. The Goreans, for example, have not been conditioned to exalt thirst or to wonder if it is morally permissible to drink water, and if so, under what conditions and subject to what restrictions. In the dehydration they find nothing morally commendable. Indeed, naive folk, it does not even occur to them to debate such questions. They are, however,in viture of this attitude, at the least, spared certain eccentric neuroses.

"On Gor," whispered the girl next to me, "I have learned that men and women are not identical."Yes," I said. I smiled to myself. I knew at least one culture in which this obvious biological truism would count as political heresy, to be punished by ostracism, slander, and when possible economic penalties. What a tragic world and culture that was. How I pitied those who, in order not to jeopardize their careers in an antibiological environment, were forced to subscribe publicly to such doctrines. How rare is courage.

"And men," she said, "or Gorean men, or men of a Gorean type are the masters."Yes," I said."And women such as I are their slaves," she said. "yes, I said. "Lick and kiss me." "Lick and kiss you?" she said. "Yes," I said. "You command me like a Gorean slave girl," she said.

"That is what you are," I told her. "Yes, Master," she said. "You do it well," I told her. She trembled. "Tasdron taught me," she said. I smiled. I could well imagine Tasdron teachng her and she, knowing him to be her legal master, desperately striving to learn. If she did not do well she would know that she might be whipped to within an inch of her life or fed, alive, to hungry sleen. Under such circumstances, girls learn quickly and well.

"Ah," I said. "Is Master pleased?" she asked. "Yes," I said. "Then Peggy too is pleased." "Complete your work," I said. "Yes Master," she said.

Later she lay beside me, her head at my thigh. My hand wandered to her hair, and then to her neck, inclosed in the narrow steel collar. I fingered the lock at her back. She put her mouth to my thigh. I felt the warmth of her breath on my thigh. I felt her lips, the pressing of her teeth. Then she kissed me, and lay again, quietly beside me.

"You treated me like a Gorean slave girl," she said. "That is what you are," I told her. "Yes, Master," she laughed. "It is true." She kissed me again. "I knew that I had convinced you," she said. "How did you know?" I asked. "In the past Ahn," she said, "you commanded me as casually and thoughtlessly as you might have any Gorean slut in a collar. Thus, in joy, I recognized that you had come to regard me, quite properly, as one of them." "I see," I said.

"You see," she said, "I am the same. I am no different. I am only another girl in the collar, another woman who must obey you and serve your pleasure." "Are you content?" I asked. "Yes, Master," she said, "as would any woman in the arms of a man such as you."

"Are you happy?" I asked. "I am joyful in the fulfillment of my nature." she said. "I am a slave. At last I have come to a world where there are men who wish for me to please them, and will see that I do so, and want me, and will have me, a world where there are masters."

"I must be going," I told her. She looked up frightened."Do not go yet," she said, "let me please you again." "Appetitious slave," I said. "On Gor, she said, "my appetites have been ignited. It has pleased men to ignite them."

"Are you dismayed?" I asked. "No, Master," She said. "On this world I need not be ashamed of my appetites. On this world it is appropriate that I am hot and belong to men." "In your belly there is slave fire?" I asked. "Yes, Master," she said, "In my belly there burns slave fires. I do not pretend that it does not." "Shameless slave," I said. "Yes, Master," she said."For whom in this moment," I asked, "do your slave fires burn?" You Master," she whispered. I hesitated. "Be merciful, Master," she bgged. "Satisfy me."

I put her beneath me in the capture position, and subjected her to swift slave rape. She cried out with pleasure, yet used to harshly and brutally.I struck her away from me and drew on my tunic. I must to work early at the sharves. At down I wished to be in the hiring yard. I looked down at her.

"Are all women such slaves as you?" I asked. She smiled up at me, curled on the furs. "Yes, Master," she said. I turned to go.

"Master," she said. I turned again to face her. "You have made much of the fact that I am an Earth girl and a slave," she said. "Yes," I said. "there is another girl in whom you are interested, isn't there," she asked, "an Earth girl?" Perhaps," I said. "Is she a slave?" she asked.

"No," I said. I had freed her. "That is unfortunate," she said. I shrugged.

"Does she have a Home Stone?" she asked."No," I said."Then enslave her" she said. "She is different from you," I said."Is she pretty?" she asked. "Yes," I said."Then she is not so different," she said, "Have I seen her?" "Long ago, once," I said, "at the restaurant. She was with me."

"She!" laughed the girl. "Yes," I said. "She was very pretty Master," she said. "Is she on Gor?" she asked. "Yes," I said. "And free?" she asked. "Yes," I said.

"I do not like that," said the girl, "Why should I be a slave and she be free?"

"If she were here," I said, "you would have to kneel before her, and obey her."The collared girl shuddered. Slave girls fear free women, greatly. There is little to wonder about in this. Free women, perhaps envying them their collars, are often extremely cruel to them.

"Do you think she would make a good slave?" I asked.The girl smiled. "I think she would make an excellent slave, Master."I shall have to keep that in mind." I said.Swiftly the girl knelt before me. "I assure you that she is a slave," she said. "I remember her. She is a slave. It is wrong for her not to be put in a collar. She is a slave, truly. Thus she should be made a slave, and be used, and treated and handled accordingly."You do not know her," I said."Perhaps it is you who do no tknow her," she said… I smiled."I am an enslaved woman," said the girl. "Do you now think that one slave knows another?"

I laughed. "Take her in hand," she said."Take away her clothes. Put her in a collar. Throw her to your feet. use her. You will see!" I smote my thigh, laughing, in the Gorean fashion, so preposterous were the urgent words of the lovely, kneeling slave. How preposterous it was even to think of the lovely Miss Henderson as a slave.The girl knelt back, on her heels. "I assure you Master," she said, "she is as much, or more a slave than I."

"Watch your tongue, Girl," I said, angrily, "lest it be slit."She shuddered, and put down her head. "Forgive me Master," she whispered."She is different from you," I said. "Your are only a shameful and degraded slave."

"Do you wish her to be herself," she asked, "or to conform to some alien image which your culture has devised for her?" I did not speak."She is not man," she said, "She is a woman."They are the same," I said."That is stupid," she said.

"I know," I said. Then I said angrily, "I know that she is not a man. I know that she is a women." "And if that is so," she said, "how do you d\consider her differently?" "I don't know!" I said.

"Perhaps Master is indeed from earth," she said. "I was once from Earth," I said. "I must respect her."Do not respect her," she said, "fulfill her." "How?" I asked. "Make her your full and total slave" she said. "I cannot," I said.

"Surely Master knows he is of the dominant sex," she said. "and that it is those of our sex who must submit." "I know that is true," I said, "but it is my duty not to believe it."

"Can it truly be one's duty not to believe the truth?" she asked. "Yes," I said. "It is important to hld the correct opinions, whether they conform to reality or not."

"Perhaps such opinions subserve thpurposes of ambitious and eccentric minorities," she said."and that is doubtless and important point it their favor, but the do not seem to advance the cause of a civiliation congenial to the nature of the human species as it is in actuality constituted."

"It is important to cater to the few," I said, "though it may in time spell doom and pain to the many. "That is madness," she said. "It is the principle on which my world is based," I said. "Tht is no longer your world," she said. "How do you know?" I asked.

"I could tell a few Ehn ago," she said, "by how you held me." I shrugged. "Abandon disease and madness, "she said, "Return to the order of nature."

"To look upon truth, openly," I said, "could be a fearful thing," "Yes, Master," she whispered and put her head down, the collar n ther throat.

I reached to her hair and twisitng her head, she crying out, threw her to the furs. "But it might not be unpleasant to do so," I said and then took her.

Almost instantly she had writhed in my arems, surrendering as a female slave to her master. Then trembling, held, she looked up at me. "You took me well Master," she said. I laughed, pleased with my conquest and trimph over her. I then knew what was the order of nature. And she too, knew it well.

"The other girl," she whispered, "is she unpleasant or difficult to get on with?" "Perhaps," I said. "Do you find her at times a bother or troublsome"

"Yes," I said. "May I make a suggestion?" she asked. "Yes," I said. "Buy a whip," she said.