Vagabonds of Gor

27 The Female Obtains Certain Insights

"Help!" cried the man in the sand. It was now high, about his waist. It is not hard to stumble into such sand. One might wade into it. Unwittingly. Then, instead of supporting one's weight, with a give of some inches, it seems, suddenly to grasp the ankles, and then gravity begins its slow work. Most quicksand, of course, is not particularly dangerous, as often one can turn about and scramble back, out of it, or reach in one's struggles a more solid footing, or its edge, or it is only two or three feet deep. It is extremely dangerous, of course, in certain expanses and depths. For example, if one is several feet into a pool of it before one realizes this, one might be trapped, too, of course, if the sand is deep, deeper than the height of the trapped organism. Sometimes such pools are extremely treacherous, as when they have a natural concealment, the sand at their top, supported by surface tension, seemingly continuous with adjacent sand, or when covered with algae or swamp growth. The pools differ, too, in their density. In some one sinks relatively rapidly, in others, where the sand is of greater density, the same relative loss of elevation may take several Ehn, in some cases as much as half of an Ahn. There are several techniques for avoiding the dangers of quicksand. One may follow a tested, scouted path, either following others or keeping to marked passages, if they exist; one should not go into such areas alone, one should not travel in close proximity to the others, one should have rope, and so on. If one-struggles, one sinks faster. Thus, in certain cases, it is rational to attempt to remain calm and call for help. Of course, if no one is about, and one will otherwise inevitably sink, it makes sense to attempt to free oneself, by wading, or, in effect, trying to swim free. If one's legs are locked in the sand, of courses, one is considerably handicapped in such efforts. I think, from his appearance, that he had muchly struggled in the sand, this suggesting he was alone. But now, it seemed, he had stopped struggling, and was simply crying out for help, in case, presumably despite all probabilities, any might be about. I gathered that he had ceased his struggles, convinced that they were futile. I suspected he was correct.

The fellow in the sand wore the uniform of Ar.

I saw no one else about. I gathered that he was alone, probably foraging.

"Help!" he suddenly cried, seeing me, reaching out toward me. "Help! Help!"

He was covered with the slime and sand of the marsh.

"Friend!" he cried. "Fellow soldier of Ar! Help!"

I stood forth, at the edge of the pool of sand. He was about ten feet from me.

"Help!" he cried. I regarded him.

"I am absolutely helpless!" he said. "I am trapped! I cannot move without sinking further!"

That seemed to me true.

"I am sinking!" he cried. "Render me assistance or I will die!"

I saw no point in disputing his assessment of the situation. As nearly as I could determine, it was perfectly correct.

"Fellow soldier of Ar," said he, "help me, I beg of you!"

"I am not a soldier of Ar," I said. He looked at me, wildly.

"Do you not recognize me?" I asked. He moaned with misery.

My heart was consumed with rage toward him. Had I had him within the compass of my blade I might have run him through, then hacked him into meat for tharlarion.

"Help me!" he said.

The sand was now to his chest. I regarded him.

"Help me, friend!" said he. He put out his hand to me.

"I am not your friend," I said.

"Help me," he said. "Please!"

"You are not an honorable man," I said. "Please!" he cried.

His eyes were wild. His hand was out, piteously, helplessly, to me.

I turned about and left the side of the pool of sand.

"Sleen! Sleen!" I heard him weep, after me.

I strode angrily back to the raft. Seeing my face, and the ferocity of my stride, Ina, on her knees by the raft, swiftly put her head down to the sand. She trembled. I seized her by the upper arms and flung her on her back in the sand and discharged lightning into her softness. Then she lay shattered, gasping, in the sand. She looked up at me, wildly. I seized up the pole from the raft in fury and strode back to the pool of sand. Then, angrily, I extended it toward the soldier of Ar, Plenius, who had been my keeper. The sand was then about his mouth. His hands reached piteously toward the pole. He could not reach it. Then he managed to grasp it with one hand, then two. Then I drew him, filthy, covered with sand and water, from the pool, to the dry land. He was trembling there.

I drew my sword. I expected him to attack me.

He drew his, but, on his knees, plunged it into the sand, before me. He did the same with his dagger.

"I am your prisoner," he said, weakly.

"No," 1 said, "you are a free man."

"You," he said, "a Cosian spy, would grant me my life, and freedom?"

"You are not a female," I said. On Gor it is not believed, or pretended to be believed, that the two sexes are the same. Accordingly they are treated differently.

"I have behaved dishonorably toward you," he said, "in the matter of the key on the island, when you had fittingly won it.

"Yes," I said.

"I am shamed," he said. I was silent.

"If you wish," he said, "I shall plunge my dagger into my own breast."

"No," I said. "Begone!"

He reached to take his sword.

I stood almost over him. I was ready to cut his head from his body.

"Have you saved my life only to take it from me now?" he asked.

"If you would do war with me," said I, "stand, sword in hand."

He sheathed his blade. "You have saved my life," he said. "I have no wish, no matter what you may be, to now do war with you."

I stepped back, lest he lunge at me with the dagger. But he sheathed it, as well. With difficulty, he stood up. I saw then that not only was he harrowed from the sand, but that he was weak, and ill, probably from weeks of terror and hunger.

"How have you managed to live in the delta?" he asked.

"It is not difficult," I said. He looked at me, startled.

"Hundreds manage," I said. "Consider the rencers."

"Have you seen such about?" he asked.

"Not recently," I said.

"There are no paths here, no trails," he said.

"None," said I, "which appear on your maps."

"It is a labyrinth," he said, wearily.

"There are the sun and stars, the winds, the flow of the current," I said.

"We are hunted by rencers," he said.

"Be too dangerous to hunt," I advised him.

"We starve," he said.

"Then you know not where to look for food," I said.

"There are the sharks, the tharlarion," he said.

"Such are sources of nourishment," I said.

"We are civilized men," he said. "We cannot survive in the delta. We are doomed here."

"Your greatest danger would be in trying to leave the delta," I said.

"The delta," he said, "has vanquished mighty Ar."

"The delta, like any woman," I said, "is conquerable. It is only that you did not know how to get her helplessly into your bonds. Had you been properly informed and prepared you could have conquered her, and then, like any other woman, have had her fittingly at your feet as a slave."

"There was treachery," he said.

"Of course," I said.

"I give you thanks," said he, "for my life, for my freedom."

"I take it you are not alone," 1 said.

"A handful survive," he said. "But we perish."

"What of Labienus?" I asked.

"He survives, in his way," he said.

" 'In his way'?" I asked.

He shrugged.

"You had best leave," I said. "It shall be as though we had not met."

"I never thought to owe my life, or freedom, to a spy from Cos," he said.

"I am not a Cosian spy," I said. He looked at me, startled.

"No," I said. "My mistake, it seems, was to have attempted to have been of service to Ar."

He looked at me, puzzled.

"I did not know, at the time I sought to assist the young officer, Marcus, of Ar's Station, in work for Ar, that Ar repaid her friends with ropes and the blows of whips."

"You are not of Cos, or a spy for her?" he asked.

"No," I said. "Such were false charges, arranged by those who were truly in the fee of Cos."

"Saphronicus?" be said.

"Yes," I said.

"His treachery is now well understood," he said.

"Better had it been as well understood earlier," I said. "But perhaps only we here in the delta truly understand what was done to us here."

"Perhaps," I said.

"Outside," said he, bitterly, "Saphronicus may be thought to be a hero."

"I would not doubt it," I said.

"And I know another traitor," he said.

"Who?" I asked.

"That slut, the haughty Lady Ina," he said.

"Perhaps," I said.

"No," said he. "She was of the staff of Saphronicus, and surely privy to his treason."

"True," I said.

"I should like to have my hands on her," he said.

"The pole with which I rescued you," I said, "was from her barge. If you look carefully, you can see the remains of some of the gilding."

"The barge was taken then," he said.

"Yes," I said, "it was apparently taken by rencers, and burned. I found this pole in the marsh. You can see on it the marks of fire. Too, I came on some of the other wreckage later in the marsh."

"And what of the Lady Ina?"

"She was apparently captured by rencers."

"They will finish her off," he said.

"Perhaps they would make her a slave," I said.

"No," he said. "She is not woman enough to begin to understand what it would be to be a slave, let alone to be one."

"Perhaps," I said.

"It is just as well," he said. "If she were to fall into our hands, here in the delta, it would be a court-martial for her."

"And then?" I asked.

"Is it not obvious?" he asked.

"What?" I asked.

"The impaling spear."

"I see," I said.

"I wish you well," he said.

I was silent.

"I am sorry," he said, "that you so hate the men of Ar."

"I have excellent reason for doing so," I said.

"True," he said.

"What were you doing here?" I asked.

"Hunting," said he.

"You seem to have had little success," I said.

"We cannot live in the delta," he said, "and we cannot escape it."

"Ar would have done well to have considered such matters before she entered the delta," I said.

"Undoubtedly," he said.

"You are to me as my enemies," I told him.

"Be pleased then," said he "for we perish."

1 did not respond to him.

"1 wish you well," he said.

I did not respond to him.

He then made his way away, rather to the southeast, testing his footing carefully.

I watched him until he had disappeared among the rence. An anger and hatred flooded over me then for the men of Ar, at whose hands I had been so cruelly treated. I hated them then, and in my heart reviled them. Let them perish in the delta then, or at its edges, under the swords of mercenaries, thought I. It would be difficult enough for a single man to leave the delta, or a man and a woman. How much more difficult then for a group. I then made my way back slowly toward the raft.

Ina, as I appeared, quickly knelt. She looked at me with a sort of awe. She spread her knees very widely, moving the sand in a small hill on either side of her knees.

"You do not have permission to speak," 1 told her. She was silent.

I must think.

"Turn about," I said, "and put your head down, to the sand."

I must think.

Surely death to the men of Ar, I thought.

"Oh!" she said.

"Be silent," I warned her. She gasped.

They had mistreated me. What mattered it if they perished, to a man, in the green wilderness of the delta?

"Keep your head down," I told Ina, absently. They were nothing to me, I told myself.

"Oh, oh," said Ina, softly. I did not admonish her for the softness of her moans. Her small hands, her wrists tied together by the binding fiber, twisted behind her back, her fingers moving.

It would be difficult enough for one man to escape the delta, or a man willing to accept, say, the handicap of a helpless, beautiful captive, without worrying about more, perhaps even a squad or more.

"Oh!" she gasped, suddenly.

The odds of being detected, by rencers, by a patrol, by a tarn scout, by a guard at the edge of the delta, by someone, increased considerably with each addition to the party.

"Oh, oh, oh!" she wept, eagerly, helplessly, gratefully.

"Ah!" I said.

"Ohhh," she said, softly, unbelievingly.

I then lay beside her, she now on her stomach. She had been very useful. I had now reached my decision. Slaves are often used for similar purposes.

"You may speak," I informed her.

But it seemed she still did not dare speak.

I moved up, beside her, on my elbow. She looked at me, timidly.

Still she did not dare to speak.

"The sand is warm," 1 said.

She made a small noise, and lifted herself a little in the sand.

"You are bound," I said.

She whimpered, pleadingly, and lifted herself yet a bit more in the sand.

She looked at me. "May I truly speak?" she whispered.

"Yes," I said, "that permission was granted to you. To be sure, it may be instantly revoked, at my will."

"Touch me again," she begged. "Yes!" she said.

"You may be interested in what transpired on the other side of the shrubbery," I said.

"Yes!" she said. "Yes!"

"You needn't jump so," I said, "but you may do so, if you wish."

"Oh!" she said. "Your touch!"

I observed her fingers moving. Then, suddenly, they straightened, tensely.

1 then withheld my touch for a moment. She was now mine.

"It was not an animal, as you thought," I said, "but, as it turned out, a man, as I thought."

She looked at me, frightened, but, too, teetering on the brink of an uncontrollable response.

"It was a fellow of Ar," I said.

"Oh, no!" she whispered.

"— whom I managed to save," I said.

She closed her eyes, tightly.

"Perhaps you are interested to know what became of him?" I asked.

"Yes," she whispered.

"He returned to his fellows," I said. "Apparently their camp is not far from here."

She looked at me with terror.

Then, as it pleased me, I touched her again, once, briefly.

"Oh!" she said.

"He does not know, of course," 1 said, "that you are with me."

"Good," she said.

I again touched her, once. "Good! Good!" she said. "What is wrong?" I asked.

"Every particle of me begs to respond to you!" she wept.

"It is just as well they do not know you are with me," I informed her, "for, as you feared, by now the treachery of Saphronicus, and that of those closely associated with him, such as the Lady Ina, is well understood."

She moaned.

"I see you feared as much," I said.

"Yes," she said.

I was letting her subside a little. I could bring her back to the brink of her response, as I chose. This she knew.

"He brought up your name," I said, "not me." She groaned in the thought of it.

I turned her to her back, in this way, in the circumstances, I made her even more vulnerable to me. Too, I could better see her face. It was very beautiful, the lips parted, the hair about it.

She tried to lift herself toward my hand, but I withdrew it. She lay back, moaned, remained tense, turned her head to the side.

"He spoke of a court-martial for you, here in the delta," I said.

She looked at me, frightened.

"To be followed, of course," I said, "by the impaling spear."

She shuddered.

"He thinks, however," I told her, "that you were done away with by rencers."

"Good!" she said.

"Interestingly," said I, "he does not seriously entertain the speculation that they might have enslaved you, not regarding you as woman enough to be a slave, or indeed, even woman enough to begin to understand what it might be, to be a slave."

She looked up at me, angrily.

So I touched her twice more, delicately.

She looked at me, wildly, helplessly.

I moistened my finger, and again touched her, again delicately.

She squirmed, helplessly.

She looked up at me.

She knew I could do what I wanted with her.

I could let her sink down, or hold her where she was, or, with a few gentle, even delicate, touches, have her explode into helpless, moaning, writhing submission.

"I would think," she said, "that any woman who has been in your binding fiber would have some inkling as to what it might be to be a slave!"

"No," I said. "To know what it is to be a slave one must be in the collar, one must be a slave."

I touched her, softly.

"Oh!" she said.

It is pleasant to have a woman so in your power.

She looked up at me, wildly. "I begin to sense," she whispered, "what it might be like, to be a slave yielding to her master."

"You sense perhaps the incipience of a mild submission orgasm," I said, "quite suitable for a captive, but do not delude yourself that you can even begin to sense the significance and totality of the slave orgasm, for that has a special informing ambiance, and takes place within a unique conditioning context, physical, psychological and institutional. You cannot sense it for a very simple reason, you are not owned, you are not a slave."

She moaned.

"But," I said, "you can perhaps, even now, sense how a female slave can beg for sex."

"Yes," she said. "Yes!" I touched her again.

"Oh, yes!" she said.

"Do you like that?" I asked.

"Yes, yes!" she said. "Please, more."

"I do not mean, once significantly ignited by the master's touch," I said. "I mean, for example, when the master returns from his day's labors, such things."

"I understand," she said. "Please, more!"

"Do you think you could understand how a girl, in the middle of the night, fearing being beaten, could beg for sex?"

"Yes," she said. "I can!"

There are many ways in which a female slave can beg for sex, for example, the bondage knot, offering the master wine, holding up to him fruit, next to her body, kneeling, licking, kissing, and so on. Many times, too, she must beg explicitly. Then she may be told she must wait, or can have only a brief use. After the slave fires have been ignited in a girl's body, which usually occurs in the first days of her slavery, the denial of sex to her amounts to a torture. Sometimes, cruelly, slavers will deny a girl sex for days before she ascends the auction block. Needless to say she is then likely to perform well, becoming, in effect, a piteous dream of needfulness on the sawdust, pleading to be purchased, begging to serve, fully, totally, as what she is, only a slave.

Again I touched her.

"Oh, yes!" she whispered.

Some think of the female's sexual response as a matter of simple physiology. This is incorrect. Her response is wholistic, and significantly conditioned by large numbers of factors, often complex and subtle. For example, being put on her belly over a table, her wrists tied to the opposite legs of it, is a very different experience for her than being fastened down on the wave-washed deck of a Torvaldsland serpent, subject to the attentions of its crew. Yet both may be exciting and precious to her. Too, her sexuality is not a matter merely of episodes but of a mode of being. In the case of the female slave, for example, her entire life is one of sexuality, vulnerability and love.

"Will you not complete your work?" she asked. "Will you not give me relief?"

"I am thinking," I said, "of giving you a slave strip, perhaps two."

"But I am not a slave," she said.

"A free woman, a captive, may be put in such," 1 said.

"I do not understand," she said.

"Your breasts are beautiful," I said. "I think I will, accordingly, keep them bared. Too, this seems fitting, not only because you are a captive, but given the heat in the delta. In this way you will be more comfortable. Perhaps when you were a free woman, that is, not yet a captive, in your barge, on the islands, and such, in your robes of concealment, you often wished you might go about stripped, or, say, in slave strips, that sort of thing, surely, at least, barefoot in the scanty garments of a female rencer."

"I do not understand," she said. "Why would you now, only now, be thinking of giving me clothing?"

I touched her.

"Oh!" she said.

"Do you not wish clothing?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, warily.

"And are you not grateful," I asked, "even as would be a slave, for such an indulgence?"

"Of course," she said.

"Good," I said.

"But why, only now, are you thinking of giving me clothing?" she asked.

"Can you act?" I asked.

"I do not understand," she said, apprehensively.

"Can you act?" I asked.

"I am a free woman," she said.

Free women, on Gor, are seldom seen on the stage. Almost all female roles, accordingly, are played either by men, sometimes boys, or female slaves. To be sure, there are many exceptions to this, as theater on Gor is a very diversified institution, with many forms, with varying levels of prestige. There is a great deal of difference, for example, between a grand historical drama recounting the saga of a city, staged in a tiered amphitheater, and a comedy set up on an improvised stage at a crossroads. On the whole free women do not attend most forms of theater on Gor, unless incognito, in heavy veiling or even masked.

"But you must be curious as to what it might be, to act?" I said.

"Forced to appear on a public stage scandalously clad, or naked," she asked, "dancing, singing, saying lines, being struck with paddles, and such, your master all the time in the wings with a whip?"

"If you like," I said.

"And then serving in tents, in the back?" she asked.

"Perhaps," I said.

There are, incidentally, certain slavers who specialize, in the capture of free women for the stage. Too, it is a joke of young bucks to capture an arrogant free maiden and sell her to a theatrical producer out of the city. Then, later, they enjoy her performances, both on the stage and in the tents later.

"I think I could manage," she said.

"Even in the tents, afterwards?" I asked.

"As I understand it," she said, "one is forced to manage there."

"True," I said. "Normally one is chained there, commonly to a stake."

"I see," she said, shuddering.

"Yes," I said.

"Of course," she said, "there are more serious roles."

"True," I said.

"Ones which perhaps do not involve the tents afterwards?"

"More likely special booths, or arrangements, for wealthy patrons," I said.

"Yes," she said, "I think I might be able to act."

"In any sort of role?" I asked.

"I suppose so," she said.

I thought with amusement of what it might be to see the former Lady Ina, then a slave, hurrying about on a stage, crying out, trying to evade, but never quite managing it, the paddles of a Chino or Lecchio.

"Why do you ask?" she asked.

"Nothing," I said.

She looked at me. She squirmed a little. Then she whimpered.

"You may beg explicitly," I said.

"Please touch me," she said.

"Very well," I said.

"Not on my nose!" she said.

"Oh," I said.

"Yes," she said, suddenly. "Yes!"

I then, after having let her subside for a time, indeed, even languish, judging by her whimper, began, she, eyes closed, moaning with gratitude, to lift her up again, toward flowers and treetops.

I then desisted.

She looked up at me. "Please continue," she said.

"You are bound," I said. "Please, more," she said. I regarded her. "Please," she said.

"Perhaps you can free your hands," I said.

"No," she said, "I cannot." "Try," I said.

She fought to free her hands. She was unsuccessful.

"I am at your mercy," she said, lifting her body. "Please, more."

"Very well," I said.

"Yes!" she wept, joyously.

I then began to stoke and build, so to speak, and then, gently, to fan the fires in her belly.

"Where are you taking me?" she begged.

"Somewhere, I suspect," I said, "where you have not been before."

"Take me there, my captor," she wept. "Force me there! If I dally, whip me!"

Moment by moment, touch by touch, she ascended higher and higher. I myself marveled, for my own contribution to this, at least to my own mind, was negligible. To be sure, I had put her in bonds and was forcing her through her paces. But even so, to my mind, I was doing very little. All, or almost all, of this glorious responsiveness was somehow within her. Women as a whole, given a little patience, are marvelously sexually responsive. It is well worth waiting for them. One will not be disappointed. But this one seemed unusually so. Her reflexes were almost as instantly activatable as those of a female slave, most of whom, in virtue of their condition and training, juice readily, often at so little as a glance or a snapping of fingers. If she was this responsive as a free woman it was interesting to consider what she might be like if she were a slave. She would be, at the very least, particularly at the mercy of men.

"You are a feast, Ina," I said.

Her eyes were closed. She was utterly beautiful, being ravished in the thralldom of her needs.

"And that is why it is," I said, "that I will put you in two slave strips."

She opened her eyes.

"It will be little enough to conceal you," I said, "but it may be enough."

"I do not understand," she gasped.

"Otherwise it would be much like carrying a tray of steaming, roasted viands into a yard of trained, but starved sleen."

"What are you saying?" she asked, twisting in the sand.

"One could scarcely blame them if they leaped forward with ravenous ferocity and devoured them on the spot."

"I do not understand," she said.

"I am speaking of the difficulty of practicing restraint in the presence of objects of incredible desirability," I said, "even on the part of trained beasts, particularly under certain conditions."

She looked at me, frightened.

"To be sure," I said, "one might always fling the viands to the beasts, that they might feed. That, undoubtedly, sooner or later, is best."

"An object of incredible desirability?" she said, falteringly.

"You, my dear Ina," I said, "as lately you have become."

"No," she said. "No!"

"But, yes," I said. "Observe." I then touched her a little, making her squirm and leap.

"See?" I said.

She thrashed in the sand, wild protest in her eyes, but unable to help herself.

"And you are beautiful, too," I said.

"Oh!" she wept, touched.

"Wait until they see how you respond," I said.

"No, no!" she said.

"To be sure," I said, "you are not a female slave."

"No, no!" she said.

"But there do not seem to be any of them about," I said. "So you will have to do."

"Please, no, my captor!" she begged.

"The fellows from Ar need help," I said. "I am not keen on this, you understand, but I really think they will be in a rather bad way if someone doesn't lend them a hand."

"You cannot be serious," she said. "Oh!"

"I am very serious," I said, "though I am somewhat reluctant to admit it."

"What of me?" she asked.

"You, my dear," I said, "will be a mute rence girl."

"A rence girl!" she said, half rearing up.

"Yes," I said. "It will make sense to the fellows of Ar that I may have picked up a rence girl in the delta, particularly one as pretty as you are. That will be understandable. What fellow, the opportunity conveniently affording itself, would not do the same? Too, you are not branded, so that will fit in with such a story. As you are not marked, it would be highly unlikely I could palm you off as a slave. Who would believe it? On the other hand, who would expect a rencer captive to be branded, at least until one got as far as an iron. Too, given what I told our friend, Plenius, the fellow I saved from the sand, my former keeper, they will be unlikely to associate you with the Lady Ina. They will believe that she was taken by rencers and presumably done away with, or possibly enslaved. You should not be in much danger, really. At least I hope not. Remember that they have never seen the face of the Lady Ina, not fully, for she was always veiled when in their vicinity. Too, as you have been under discipline, and will continue to be kept under discipline, I do not think you are likely to be betrayed by the arrogance or mannerisms of a free woman. For example, you may not be aware of this but you now carry yourself, and move, differently from what you did before. Everything about you now is much softer and more beautiful than it was. Indeed, frankly, I do not know if you could go back to being a free woman, at least of the sort you were. That I fear, for better or for worse, is now behind you."

"It seems you have thought these matters through in some detail," she said.

"Too," I said, "I shall call you 'Ina'."

"Is that wise?" she asked.

"I think so," I said. "I think the men of Ar, remembering that the Lady Ina was somewhat rude to me in one of their camps, will see this as a rich joke, giving her name to a lowly rence girl. But also, if they grow suspicious of you, I want it to be very natural that you would promptly, and without thought, answer to the name of 'Ina'. It might surely provoke suspicion if you were supposedly, say, Feize or Yasmine, or Nancy or Jane, and you answered to the name of 'Ina'."

"You speak of me as though I might be a sleen," she said, " 'answering to a name'."

"You are a captive," I reminded her.

"True," she said.

"Also," I said, "I like the name 'Ina' for you. 'Ina' is an excellent name for you!"

"Is that supposed to be flattering?" she asked.

I looked at her. I considered what she might look like in a collar, and chains. "Yes," I said. I wondered if she knew that 'Ina' was a common slave name.

"And I am to be mute?" she said.

"I think that is in our best interests," I said. "If you are a simple rence girl, we cannot very well have you speaking with the accents of a cultured lady of Ar."

"I suppose not," she said, grudgingly.

"There is nothing personal in. this," I said. "You have a lovely accent. I am fond of hearing it. Indeed, I am particularly fond of hearing it in female slaves."

"Slaves!"

"But you, of course, are a free woman."

"Yes!" she said.

"There are many lovely accents, of course," I said, "for example, those of Tuna and Cos."

"Particularly in female slaves," she said.

"Yes," I said.

She pulled a little at her wrists, futilely.

"Have you heard of the planet, Earth?" I asked. "Yes," she said.

"And of women brought here from that planet?" "Slaves," she said.

"Of course," I said.

"Yes," she said.

"Many speak their Gorean with a piquant flavor," I said.

"Undoubtedly," she said.

"And many find those accents interesting, even exotic and charming, as I find yours."

"Do not confuse me with the women of Earth," she said.

"Why?" I asked.

"They are slave stock," she said.

"All women are slave stock," I said.

She looked up at me, angrily, but then, as I touched her lightly, she moaned, and squirmed helplessly.

"You squirm rather like a slave," I said.

"Oh!" she gasped.

"Yes," I said. "To be sure, many of the girls brought here from Earth learn their Gorean so well that they become indistinguishable from native born slaves. Perhaps they have best been brought under the whip. Even so they will often, in the pronunciation of a word or two, betray their Earth origin. Sometimes masters enjoy tricking such a mistake out of them. The girls must then be anxious whether they are to be mocked, savored or beaten."

"Please touch me again," she whispered. "Yes!"

Many women, of course, have high linguistic aptitudes. These may have been selected for, considering the high mobility of women, in virtue of practices in exogamous mating, enslavements, sales, captures, and such, assisting them to placate, and accommodate themselves to, foreign masters.

"And so," I said, "in spite of the pleasure which listening to your accent affords me I would rather forgo that pleasure temporarily, enjoyable though it may be, than risk impalement on its account."

"Of course," she said, tensely.

"You are then to be as a mute rence girl."

"Perhaps I can write in the sand," she said.

"No," I said. "Most rence girls are illiterate."

"How, then, am I to communicate?" she asked.

"By whimpers, moans, and such," I said.

"Then I shall be, in effect, only a pet animal!"

"Yes," I said. "And with respect to moans and whimpers, considering what is likely to be done to you, you will probably find such sounds appropriate enough."

"I see," she said.

"I trust you will play your role well," I said.

"I will try," she said.

"Your life may depend on it," I said.

"You are then truly going to the aid of the men of Ar?" she said.

"Yes," I said.

"Your decision is made," she said.

"Yes," I said. "I made it earlier."

"When I was kneeling, with my head down to the sand?"

"Yes," I said.

"I yielded to you!" she said. "And yet you were paying me no attention!"

"I was thinking," I said. She made an angry noise.

"Do not be angry," I said. "Slaves are sometimes used for such purposes, to content a fellow while he considers more important matters."

"Then I was used as might have been a slave!" she said.

"As a slave might sometimes be used," I said.

"I see," she said.

"Surely you do not regard that as inappropriate," I said. "Oh!" she said, angrily.

She struggled.

She could not free her wrists.

"But I assure you," I said, "you have on the whole, as yet, been a free woman, very little understanding of what it might be to be subjected to slave use."

She shrank down in the sand, looking up at me, frightened.

"No," I said.

"So much they are at the mercy of their masters?" she said.

"Totally," I said.

"Good," she said.

"What?" I asked.

"Good," she said. "They are slaves. That is as it should be. It matters not!"

I laughed softly to myself. Did she not know that she, too, could become a slave, that she, too, could have such obediences and helplessnesses imposed upon her?

She turned her bead to the side. "I wonder if you are paying me any attention now," she said, poutingly.

"Look up at me," I said. She did so.

"Oh!" she said.

"Yes," I said. "I am paying you attention now. Too, you are now well worth watching."

" 'Worth watching'!" she said.

"Of course," I said. "You are very beautiful, your movements, your expressions, and such."

"Then some men do pay attention to the women they do these things to," she said.

"Certainly," I said. "Almost invariably."

"Oh! Oh!" she said.

"See?" I said.

"You give me such pleasure," she whispered.

"You look well, bound," I said.

"Surely you jest," she said, "in speaking of taking me among the men of Ar."

"No," I said.

"Then it is truly your intention to take me among them?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

I continued to attend to her.

"I do not wish to go among them!" she said.

"I do not blame you," I said.

"It will be extremely dangerous," she said.

"I do not think they will see the Lady Ina in a small, well-curved, half-naked rence girl, in slave strips, perhaps bound."

"Let us run away, together," she said. "They need never know."

"No," I said.

"I will try to be very pleasing to you," she said.

"You will be that way anyway," I said. She looked up at me.

"And if you were a slave," I said, "for that hint of bargaining, you would be severely beaten, if not slain."

"I am not a slave!" she said.

"And that is why I do not now severely beat you, or slay you," I said.

"Then my will means nothing!" she said.

"That is exactly correct," I said.

I then began to once more conduct her to the heights. To be sure, her entire demeanor was now half in consternation, and shaken with the import of my intentions.

"How can you do this to me," she asked, "forcing me to feel these things, after what you have told me?"

"I am not yet through with you," I said. "Ohhh," she said. "Ohhh!" "See?" I said.

"You are pretty, Ina," I said.

"A girl is pleased!" she said, bitterly. "Are you being impertinent?" I asked. "No!" she said.

"I thought that perhaps you were," I said.

"No!" she said.

"Perhaps you wish to be lashed with my belt?"

"No, no!" she said. "Who is pleased?" I asked. "Ina is pleased!" she said. "You say that well, Ina," I said. She looked up at me. "Repeat it," I said.

"Ina is pleased," she said.

"I like the name 'Ina' on you," I said.

" 'On me'?" she said.

"Yes," I said.

"You speak of it as though it were a brand," she said.

"More in the nature of a collar," I said.

"A collar?" she said.

"Yes," I said. "Collars can be changed."

" 'Ina' is not a slave name," she said. "It is my own name, in my own right! I am a free woman! It is my own name, in my own right! It is not a slave name!"

"But if you become a slave," I said, "you would have no name."

She looked at me.

"Is that not true?" I asked her.

"Yes," she said. "That is true."

"And then," I said, "if a master wished, he might name you, say, 'Ina'."

"Of course," she said.

"What would your name then be?"

" 'Ina'," she said.

"And would it be your true name?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

"But it would then be only a slave name, would it not?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. I regarded her, amused.

"Yes," she said. "Then it would be only a slave name!"

"Oh!" she said. "Stop! Stop! I am there! I am frightened! I dare go no further!"

"But you shall," I said.

"Whip me!" she said.

"That will not be necessary," I said.

"I dare not go even a hair's breadth further," she whispered.

"Have no fear," I said. "The choice is no longer yours."

"Whose then?" she asked.

"Mine," I said.

"Yours?"

"Yes," I said. "When it pleases me; in a moment, I shall force you."

"I am at your mercy," she said.

"Yes," I said.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she asked.

"It pleases me," I said. "Too, I think it would be good for you, particularly now, as you are soon to be taken among the men of Ar, to discover what men can do to you."

She pushed back a little, in the sand. This amused me. Did she think she could escape? "I am afraid," she said.

"Women survive such things," I assured her.

"I am bound!" she said.

"Do not fret," I said.

"Beast, beast, beast!" she said.

"And you are now to discover what it is to be a pretty little female beast," I said.

"Do it to me!" she begged. "No, don't!"

I regarded her.

"I am at a gate," she said. "I am on a bridge! I am on a mountain. There are flowers. I am on a cliff! I am afraid!"

I looked at her. She was very beautiful.

"Have mercy!" she said. "Let me go back!"

"No," I said. "You will not-be permitted to go back."

"Let me stay where I am then!" she wept.

"Surely you understand that that is impossible," I said.

"Whip me, then!" she said. "Drag me in a collar and chains, like a slave girl!"

"Your touch!" she wept.

"I am now forcing you to go where I have decided you shall go," I said, "where t is my wish that you shall go."

"No!" she said.

"And where, too, it is your wish to go," I said.

"No!" she said.

"Your touch," she wept. "Your touch!"

"No," she wept. "No!"

"Your plaints are meaningless," I said.

"Your touch," she cried. "Please stop!"

"I am taking you there," I said, "whether you wish it or not."

"No!" she wept.

"You have no choice," I said.

"No!" she cried.

"You might as well be driven with a whip," I said. "You might as well be being dragged in a collar and chains. You might as well be a slave girl."

"Aiii!" she cried, head back, eyes closed, hair about, rearing up, twisting, thrashing in the sand. Then she was looking at me, wildly.

She tried to press against me.

"I am bound and helpless!" she wept. "Hold me! Hold me, tightly! Take me in your arms. I beg it!"

I took her in my arms, as she wished. I could feel her heart beating wildly.

"I did not know it could be like that," she said. "I could not believe it."

"Such things," I said, "are only the first horizons, of an infinite number of possible horizons."

She pressed herself desperately against me, sobbing.

"You are a woman," I said.

"I have no doubt of that now," she said. I kissed her.

"I did not know being a woman could be anything like that," she said. "How precious is my sex! How wonderful it is! I love it! Now I never want to be anything else!"

I kissed her again.

"But I have these terrible and frightening thoughts," she said. "Now I want to love and serve men!"

"They are not such terrible thoughts," I said.

"And I dare not tell you the other thought that cries out within me!"

"It is that you sense now that you are owned by men, and wish to belong to them," I said.

She cried out, wildly, shuddering.

"Rest now," I said. "I must do some hunting and then we will go to the camp of the men of Ar."

I then gently rose to my feet. I regarded her there in the sand, naked, her hands bound behind her, the strap from the raft running to the improvised, buckled collar on her throat, which, as tether, would keep her in the vicinity of the raft. She was looking at me, in consternation, in awe. I think she was still trying to cope with the feelings she had felt, with the insights she had obtained.