Witness of Gor

7

I did not break position.

I had not received permission to do so.

I continued to kneel before him, on the lavender grass, my head down to the grass, my palms upon it, as well.

The position is a common one, of obeisance.

I could hear some birds, among the trees. I could hear, a few yards away, the fountain.

I sensed that his eyes were upon me.

I was in the light silk. It was extremely brief, and was, for most practical purposes, diaphanous. Certainly it left little doubt as to my lineaments.

I knelt before him, in an attitude suitable for one such as I before one such as he, a male, that of obeisance.

I did not know who he might be, or what he might want.

Too, had he seen me near the wall?

“It is the rest period,” he said.

“Yes,” I said.

I had heard voices from within the house but I had thought them the voices of the one who was first amongst us and the assistants of that one. Some of us, in a place such as this, are usually subject to others of us. I was surprised, and frightened, when I had heard the voices, for it was unusual to hear such during the rest period. The rest period, I knew, was not over, or should not yet be over. If I had thought it even close to the time for the rest period to be over, I would not, of course, have been in the vicinity of the wall. That is, you see, not permitted.

“Why are you not on your mat?” he asked.

“I was not tired,” I said.

“You wanted to walk in the garden?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“It is the heat of the day,” he said.

“Yes,” I said.

“Why were you not in the shade?” he asked.

“I do not know,” I said.

“One such as you must be careful,” he said.

“Yes,” I said. I did not fully understand him. I was frightened.

“You should guard your complexion,” he said.

“Yes!” I agreed, relieved.

“It would not do to become sunburned, to become reddened, or blistered.”

“No,” I said.

“Or worse,” he said.

“No,” I said, trembling.

How was it that he was here, a man, now? Who was he?

“You might then be less pleasing,” he said.

“Yes,” I said.

“You are new in the garden,” he said.

“Yes,” I said. How could he have known that? I was sure he was not of the staff. Certainly I did not recognize his voice.

Could I be of interest to him?

Other, of course, than in the way in which one of my kind might be found of interest by any man?

“Position,” he said.

So said, so simply, I straightened my back, and knelt up, straight, but back on my heels, my knees widely spread, for this was in accord with my kind within a kind, the palms of my hands on my thighs. I kept my head bowed, however. This sort of thing, I had learned, tends to depend on the city, and the man. It is safest to keep it bowed, unless one knows that it is to be held otherwise.

“You may lift your head,” he said.

No, I did not know him. I did not recognize him. He was a strong, powerful man, of which here, in this place, on this world, there seemed no dearth. He was tall. He wore a street tunic, a fillet of wool holding back long, dark hair, a wallet. He did not appear to be armed. I was small, and soft, before him. I did not doubt but he, as one of his kind, would well know the handling of one such as I, one of my kind.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“I have had many names,” I said. It was true. A name for the purposes of training, a name for the purpose of kennels, and so on.

“You have an accent,” he said.

“Yes,” I said.

“What are you called in the gardens?” he asked.

“Gail,” I said.

He smiled. “An excellent name,” he said.

I put down my head, but raised it again, remembering that I had been given permission to lift it, a permission which suggested that it might be well to keep it lifted, unless otherwise instructed. Still, he had not commanded me to meet his eyes. Accordingly, gratefully, I tended to keep my eyes averted from his. It can be difficult for one such as I to meet the gaze of such a man.

“For one such as you,” he added. I was silent.

“That is an Earth name,” he said.

“Yes,” I said.

He then was aware of at least a portion of what is called the “second knowledge.” He might, thustly, be of high caste.

“You were originally from such a place?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“But now you are only from here, aren’t you?” he said.

“Yes,” I said. It seemed that nothing could be more true than that.

He drew a sheet of paper from his wallet. On it was a design, or a world, or name.

“Can you read this?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

I was illiterate on this world. I had not been taught to read or write any of its languages. Such skills were not deemed needful for one such as I.

He turned the paper over.

“Do you recognize this sign?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “It is the sign of the city.” It was a simple mark. I had seen it before, even within the house, on documents and such.

My mind raced. I did not know what, really, I was doing here, in the garden, or why I had been brought here. To be sure, perhaps I had been brought here, really, no differently from others, nor for purposes essentially different from theirs. That was possible. But I was not sure of it. The ‘flowers’ here were of astounding quality and I was not at all sure that I, even given the fact that I might be of interest, even of remarkable interest, on this world, really belonged among them, at least on purely aesthetic grounds. Similarly I was not versed in song, I was not skilled with lute or lyre, I did not even know the special dances of the gardens. It is one thing to writhe naked before guards, one’s body obedient to the slightest tremor of the flute, and quite another, for example, to swirl in a belt of jewels on the dancing floor of one of the golden taverns, reached only from the high bridges. But then, perhaps, they are not really so different after all. But, in any event, I had not had special training, or, at least, no training more special than any one such as I would have, who is not intended to be, and sold as, a dancer.

Why should he be asking me these things?

Of course I could not read! Could he not simply look upon my lineaments, and my silk, and know that? Of course some of the flowers could read. That was true. But I could not! Would he not know that? Of course I could recognize that one sign. Was it not well known?

What did he want?

He returned the sheet of paoper to his wallet.

I looked up at him. I wanted to read his eyes.

“Have you been near the wall?” he asked, offhandedly.

I must have turned white.

I was now sure that he had seen! He must not tell. He must not tell!

“Brand,” he said, idly.

I knelt up, from my heels, and, still kneeling, turned to my right. I drew up the silk on my left side, with the fingers of both hands, to the waist, as one does, this exposing the tiny, graceful mark there, high on my left thigh, just under the hip.

“A lovely flank,” he remarked.

Many times before had I received such compliments. My flanks, I had gathered, were of interest to men, and other portions of my body, as well, and the whole, the whole.

But then I sensed it was the brand he was regarding.

“Yes,” he said, looking at it.

But surely it could mean nothing to him. It was, as I understood it, in its variations, the most common mark on this world for one such as I. It was only the common mark, nothing special, or different.

“Yes,” he said, again. He seemed satisfied.

He was not surprised, of course, that the mark was on me. It would have been utterly improbable that that mark, or some equivalent sign, would not have been upon me, and most likely in that place. That is the most common site for such a mark. Merchant practice, and social custom, tend to standardize such things.

I, too, regarded the mark. It is expected, indeed, in such a situation, that we, too, will regard it, as it is exposed on the flank, the silk lifted to the waist with the fingers of two hands. We are to turn our eyes downward and to the left, and look upon it, seeing it once again, understanding it once again.

I looked at him, and he was looking at me, a slight smile about his lips.

I looked down, again to the mark. What could be his interest in it? Surely one such as he, large, tall, strong, vigorous, of this world, one in whose demeanor I sensed an unconfused unity and will, one in whose loins I sensed considerable power, would have seen such a thing many times before, and would have seen such as I many times before. I did not think he would be unfamiliar with my kind, the uses to which we might be put, our diverse values, and such.

Perhaps he had only wanted me to expose my flank to him. After all, cannot it be pleasant, or amusing, for them to observe us, while we, under command, perhaps reluctantly, perhaps in tears, reveal ourselves to them? Perhaps it was only in I that he was interested, as he might be interested in any of my kind, he what he was, we what we are. But, no! He had been concerned with the brand. But what could it have meant to him? It was only the common mark. It was a small, tasteful, beautiful mark, of course. I had no doubt it much enhanced my beauty. Too, of course, it had its symbolic aspects, in its design, and its reality, that it marked me. Indeed, sometimes, even thinking of it, I had screamed softly with passion. More than once I had, in my former places, bared it to a guard, in mute petition, calling thusly to his attention what I was and what I wanted from him, and what I hoped for from him, and what I needed from him, thusly pleading without words that he might deign to take pity upon me. But often they would not so spare my pride and would have me at their feet, licking and kissing, and begging explicitly. Then they would either take pity on me, or not, as it pleased them. Sometimes, of course, we would be denied human speech. At such times we must make known our needs by other means, such things as moans and whimpers, and tears. But the primary purpose of the mark, one supposes, is not to be understood naively in such terms as its simple factual enhancement of our beauty, nor even in terms of how it makes us, those who wear it, feel, but rather, more simply, in virtue of more mundane considerations, such as its capacity to implement certain practical concerns of property, and merchant, law. By its means, you see, we may conveniently be identified, and recognized.

But he had, I was sure, been interested in the particular brand I wore. This was hard to understand, of course, as it was merely one of the numerous variations on the common mark. There were doubtless many in the city, even thousands, I supposed, who wore the same, or a very similar, mark.

I looked up at him again, and then, sensing that I might do so, lowered the silk. I then returned to my former position, kneeling back on my heels, facing him, not meeting his eyes.

He had seemed satisfied, regarding the brand. It had seemed to mean something to him. I did not understand it. But surely he could not be interested n me, save as one such as he might be expected to be interested, if only as a passing whim, in one such as I.

“In what house were you first processed?” he asked. I looked at him, frightened.

“You have not been near the wall, have you?” he asked.

“Please,” I wept.

He regarded me.

Tears formed in my eyes. “I do not know in what house I was first processed,” I said. It was true.

“What was the name of he who over you first held total rights?” he asked.

“I do not know!” I said. I didn’t.

“In what city,” asked he, “were you marked?”

“It was done in the pens,” I said, “shortly after my arrival here. I was not permitted out of the pens. I did not know where I was.”

“You heard none speak the name of the city?”

“No,” I said.

He nodded. This response, it seemed, was the one which he had expected.

“What were the names of those who trained you, who taught you?” he asked.

“They did not speak their names before us,” I said. He smiled. That, too, it seemed he had expected. I remembered one especially, one whom I had never forgotten, he who was the first of the men of this world I had seen clearly, when permitted to look up, in the corridor. I, a woman from another world, a world not his, I, a woman removed from, torn from, my own world and brought as a mere captive, or less, to his, kneeling naked at his feet, fearfully, in chains, had looked up at him. I had quailed before him. I had not known such men could exist. It was he who, of all men on this world, I had first seen. It was he to whom I had thought that I might have been important. His whip had been thrust to my lips. The ceremony, so meaningful, in timid compliance, had been performed. I remembered him. It was he to whose whip my lips had first been pressed. I had thought that I might have been important to him.

Then, when I had kissed the second whip, I had realized that I was not. I was no more to him then another on the chain. I had often, in my training, piteously, tried to call myself to his attention, but he had paid me little heed. It was only too clear that I was nothing to him. Sometimes he even seemed to regard me, unaccountably, with rage. Never did he touch me, save to improve a posture, or to position me more appropriately. At such times he would handle me roughly, even severely, certainly more so than was necessary. He was not patient with me, as he might have been with the others. Surely, for some reason, he did not like me. I shook beneath his touch. I could hardly stand when he was near. Sometimes when I begged him, he would spurn me with his foot. Sometimes he would merely turn away, leaving me behind, on my knees, scorned, rejected. At other times he would throw me to another. I had never forgotten him. It had been he, of all on this world, on whom I had first, in my chains, from my knees, fully looked. It had been he to whose whip my lips had first been pressed. I could still remember the taste of its leather. I did not even know his name.

“How were you taken from the pens?” he asked.

“I do not know,” I said. “I was drugged. As the drug began to take effect, I was hooded, and shackled.”

“How were you transported?” he asked.

Why was he asking such questions? What difference could it make to him, or to anyone?

“I am confused,” I said. “I was kept drugged. It was now doubtless mixed with my food. I think there was a ship, I think there was a wagon, for a long time. I could not see out of the wagon. It was metal, and locked. The roads were rough. I was kept closely chained in the wagon, and hooded. I could hear little. People seldom spoke in my presence. It was sometimes hot in the wagon. It was sometimes cold. I was in it for a long time. We may eventually have been in mountains. There seemed steepnesses which were being ascended. I know very little of these things. I was unhooded only to be fed and watered. I could hear the locks opening and closing. Mostly I slept. I could not stay awake. I was sometimes slapped awake, to be fed and watered, and was then allowed, once again, mercifully, greedily, to subside into unconsciousness. Then I seem to remember being bound being bound hand and foot, and then being unchained. Never, it seems, was I without bonds. Did they fear I might escape? I did not know where I was being taken or what would be done with me. Could I be of some importance? Surely not! One such as I is not important. But why were such precautions taken with me? I could see nothing for they would not remove my hood. I was then wrapped in several folds of a blanket, it tied about me at several places, the ankles, knees, belly, breasts and neck. Were it not for this precaution I fear I might have died of exposure. I was then placed in some sort of basket. I could feel the fiber though the blanket. I was fastened in the basket by straps, at my ankles and neck. The basket swayed frighteningly. I was muchly grateful for the straps which held me in place. The wind whistled though the chinks between the fingers. Muchly, too, then, was I grateful for the protection of the blanket. The basket, it seemed, clearly, was being borne though the air. At the time I did not understand how that could be. I had thought it must be part of the drug, part of the dreams. Sometimes I heard weird, wild, birdlike screams. Sometimes I was frightened. But mostly I slept.”

“How long was it, after you left the pens,” he asked, “that you were transported, or think that you were transported, in one or another of these possible modalities?”

“I do not know,” I said.

“Days?” he asked.

“Yes, I think so,” I said.

“Several days?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “I would think so.”

“Weeks?” he asked.

“Possibly,” I said.

“I would suppose it would be hard to tell, in the state of consciousness you were in,” he said.

“Yes,” I said. Surely he knew how helpless we were in the grip of such substances.

What could be his interest in these things?

“There seems to have been a great deal of caution, or secrecy, in your transport,” he remarked.

“I knew nothing else, at the time,” I said.

“But that is clear to you now, is it not?” he asked.

“I gather so,” I said, “from what I now know.” This was true. Normally there was little concealment, or secrecy, involved in our movements. We tended to be moved about, and shipped, usually, quite openly. More often, it seemed, we were moved about in wagons covered with blue and yellow silk, our ankles chained to a central bar aligned with the long axis of the wagon bed, a bar which can be lifted up and down, and locked in place. Sometimes we are moved in special ships, constructed for us, with narrow, slatted tiers, on which we lie down, chained, closed off from one another with narrowly meshed steel screens. Sometimes, on flatbed wagons, we are chained to frameworks, or kept in metal containers, roped in place, or in sacks, tied, too, in place. There are, too, of course, simple cage wagons, in which, as what we are, we may be viewed behind the bars. There are many ways in which we may be moved. Indeed, it is not unusual for us, even, in brief tunics, chained together, by neck, or wrist, to trek the roads, afoot, under the surveillance of mounted guards astride saddle tharlarion. If others should approach, say, a caravan, we commonly yield the road, kneeling beside it, facing it, in obeisance, until the dust, the bells, passes.

I suddenly looked at him, in agony. He must not tell about the wall, that I had been near it!

Surely he would not tell!

“Stand,” he said. I complied.

I was regarded then, as such men regard one such as I.

“Disrobe,” he said.

My hand moved to the loop at my left shoulder, and I drew upon the loop, and, in a moment, stepped from the silk.

He gestured to the grass, permissively.

I sat back, on the grass, leaning back, on the palms of my hands.

In this fashion one’s hands are rather behind one, and rather held in place, by one’s own weight.

This position is one we are taught. In it, as is clear to us, we are more vulnerable.

He crouched beside me.

I was frightened.

I looked behind me, and upward, to the wall. I feared that I might see the back of a guard there. Although where we were was hidden from the house, by the shrubbery, it would have been an ill-disguised location for an assignation in the garden, being easily visible, as most parts of the garden are, from the wall. To be sure, the guards were supposed to keep their eyes away, unless suspicions were legitimately aroused, from the interior of the garden. Indeed, at certain times, they were not even allowed on the wall. This was, however, the rest period. They might well be on the wall now. Too, we had sometimes seen them observing us, and not merely when it was time for us to swim, or bathe, in the pool, or to try on silks, or for some of us to learn dances, but even when we might be taking our exercise, strolling in the garden, before the one who was first amongst us, though we pretended not to notice. It was interesting how our behavior changes, and so remarkably, when we find ourselves under the eyes of a man. It is as though we must suddenly become more beautiful. I think this is true even of women quite other then we. I think that they, too, thusly, in their hearts, know to whom they belong.

“You are frightened,” he said.

I looked at him.

He put his fingers gently over my lips. “You are not going to cry out, are you?” he asked.

I regarded him, in terror.

He lifted my right foot a little up from the grass, a few inches, with his left hand. My ankle was helpless in his grasp. He rubbed his index finger across the ball of the foot and then, his finger bright with a spot of blood, place it to my lips. I tasted the tiny bit of blood. My foot was cut, of course, from the sharp stones. I had exercised too little caution in fleeing from the wall.

He then did know, of course, that I had been at the wall. Indeed, he had doubtless, perhaps to his amusement, seen me there. What power in the garden did this give him over me! But who such as he needed any further power over one such as I? Did not, if not he, then his kind, already possess absolute power over on such as I!

“You are not going to cry out, are you?” he asked.

I moved my head, wildly, not so much in negativity, as in helplessness, and frustration.

“I am known in the house,” he assured me.

But that did not entitle him, surely, to enter the garden! To be with one of us, as he was!

“Very well,” he said. He reached down, beside me, to my discarded silk, and folded it several times. It was so light that even with several folds, it was not bulky. These layers of silk, folded neatly into a flat rectangle, he thrust crosswise in my mouth. Partly now they were back, between my teeth, my teeth closed on them, and partly, in front, those folds, they protruded from my mouth. I could feel them, between my lips. They extended an inch or so beyond my lips.

“You may recline,” he informed me.

I lay back, terrified.

Did he not know this was the garden? Did he not understand the danger?

“It is said,” he remarked, “that one such as you might be hot.”

Why had he phrased that in such a fashion? Those such as I might well be “hot”! That was not unusual. Indeed, we had better be, if we knew what was good for us! If we were not sufficiently hot, or sufficiently pleasing, we could expect to be whipped, or worse! We were not the sort of women who could use our favors, or the coolness of our responses, to achieve our own ends. Those weapons, if weapons they were, were no longer at our disposal. We had been disarmed. If wars were involved here, women such as I had clearly lost them. We had been defeated, utterly. We were now the helpless, obedient conquests of men. But, more importantly, we were, it seems, women like us, selected with various parameters in mind, such as intelligence, beauty, and heat. Then, too, we were placed in a situation where reservations, qualifications, inhibitions, compromises, and such, were simply not permitted.And our natural heats, which are in all of us, were brought forth, and encouraged, and even trained. They were fanned into flame, until we found ourselves their victims and prisoners, frequently, helplessly, profoundly, periodically, recurrently dependent upon men for their quenching. And in this place I had been muchly kept from satisfaction. I had often begged to be put forth for use, to lie chained between the tables for the use of guests, to be fastened even to a bench in the garden, my use a gratuity for those who worked there, or to be sent, gratefully, ecstatically, back braceleted, a sheet over me, to the quarters of guards, but the one who was first amongst us, who seemed to hate me, for no reason I could understand, had, almost invariably, to my pain and my misery, to my suffering, denied me these things.

I looked back, wildly, frightened, to the height of the wall, above and behind me. I feared a guard might make his rounds, that he might see!

Then he who was with me touched me, gently.

I reared half up, helplessly, a wild cry stifled by the wet silk I clenched between my teeth. He placed his hand over my mouth. Then he removed it. I had been unable to help myself. I looked up at him, piteously, tears in my eyes. I lay back, but whimpered, pleadingly. I lifted my body to him, beggingly. I looked wildly up at him, half in astonishment, half in supplication.

He seemed pleased. “Yes,” he said, rather as he had when he had noted the lovely mark, incised on my thigh. It would not come off, of course, it had been put there, in me, over a period of a few seconds, with a white hot iron.

I tried, helplessly, to press my body against his hand.

What cared I now for my questions, what mattered it if I understood him or not, if I fathomed his presence here, or what he wanted, or even if his interest in me might, frighteningly, be more than that of one such as he who had, in a garden, encountered one such as I.

I whimpered piteously, begging him, looking up at him, my teeth clenched on the silk, by body lifted.

I writhed, touched.

Again I lifted my body, begging.

But I was not touched. Tears welled in my eyes. Surely I was not to be tortured!

I whimpered, pleadingly.

I knew what could be done with me. He must not torture me! He must not torture me!

I looked up at him. All was in his hands.

I sobbed gratefully, entered.

I clutched him. On my left angle were golden bangles. On my left upper arm, there was a golden armlet. On my right wrist were two narrow golden bracelets. They made a tiny sound as I clutched him.

I did not think he would take long with me.

Surely he would have the dangers of the garden.

I clutched him. I hled to him, fiercely, with all my small strength.

He would be soon done with me.

I was only a girl in a garden.

I held to him, fiercely.

I wanted to savor every sensation, every feeling, every tiny movement. I was grateful, such as I was, for whatever crumbs might be thrown to me.

I looked at him, pleadingly, over the sopped gag in my mouth.

My eyes begged him not to stop.

I wanted more, more! I could not help myself!

Then I suddenly feared he might cry out. Sometimes such men, in their joy, in their ecstasy, roar like beasts! His cry might bring down the guards upon us!

I looked at him, frightened, my teeth clenched on the silk. He must not cry out!

I shook my head, wildly.

But he paid me no heed. His eyes were fierce. I might have been nothing in his grip!

Then I began to feel my own helplessness.

I knew that I was but a moment from being again conquered.

How piteously I looked up at him, and how well, I am sure, he read my helplessness.

He paused.

I tried not to move.

I tried not to feel.

I looked at him.

He must not tell that I was near the wall! He must not tell that I was near the wall!

I had been quiet and obedient.

I had not cried out.

I had not called for guards.

Was I not pleasing him?

He must not tell that I had been by the wall!

What more could I do?

He must be quiet.

He must not make noise.

This place was not safe.

How long had we lain together?

Did he not know that we could be seen from the wall?

I feared that guards might see!

The rest period must be nearly over.

Others will be coming into the garden.

What if the one who was first amongst us should come to the garden?

What if we should be discovered?

But it was the helplessness which precedes the yielding.

All was in his hands.

I moaned.

I looked up at him.

He had brought me to the point where he could do with me what he wanted.

I was now his.

How it must amuse them, and please them, I thought, to have such power over us! But I clung to him in my helplessness. He could do with me what he wished. All was in his hands.

Oh, let him be merciful! Let him be merciful!

How they can wring from us our surrender!

Let him be kind! Oh, please, be kind! Please be kind!

He looked down at me, I fastened in his arms.

With my eyes I begged him, piteously.

I wondered suddenly if he had come to steal me, or one like me.

To pluck a flower, to seize, and make away with, a luscious fruit of the garden? But such things are almost impossible to do. To be sure, sometimes a flower would disappear, but then so, too, usually, would have a guard, or a member of the staff. That was dangerous, but possible. But he was not of the house, or of the staff, or the guards, I was sure of that. How, thusly, without the knowledge of the house, without the keys, the passwords, perhaps even friends within, could he hope to get me over the wall, or though the gate, past the guards? How could he even hope to ascend the wall himself, with the uncurved knives at the summit? But he had said he was known in the house. Could that be true? If it were so, then I supposed that he might, quite unlike one such as I, simply take his leave. Perhaps, waiting, he had wandered into the garden, to pass the time. He might then have seen me by the wall, and, perhaps taken with my beauty, as some men were, decided, on a whim, to accost and enjoy me.

How hateful he was!

But now I was his.

Helplessly!

He had brought me to this point.

He could now do with me what he wanted.

But I knew in my heart that I had wanted him perhaps a thousand times more than he had wanted me.

He was a man of this world, and the sight of one can wrench out our insides.

We are made for such men.

He moved slightly.

I whimpered, begging.

I sensed whispers of he yielding, tiny whispers, becoming more insistent.

Already I was within the throes of the helplessness, that helplessness which precedes the yielding, which heralds its proximity, which warns of its imminence, that helplessness which sometimes seems to hold one fixed in place, where one, as though chained to a wall, knows that there is no escape, which sometimes seems to place one on a brink, bound hand and foot, in the utmost delicacy of balance, at the mercy of so little as the whisper of another’s breath.

I bit on the silk.

He moved, slightly.

I whimpered, gratefully, eagerly.

I looked up at him.

No heed did he pay me.

I clutched him.

How could I be brought more closely to the yielding?

I wanted it!

My eyes begged it.

I thought I heard voices from the house. I groaned.

Was this some torture to which he was subjecting me?

It may as well have been, so helpless I was, so much at his mercy.

To be sure, I was nothing, only a girl in a garden.

I had, of course, in chains, and in ropes, learned what such as he could do to me, how they could bring me again and again, gently, surely, cruelly, as it might amuse them, to such a point, to such a delicate, exact point, to the very threshold of release, to the very edge of ecstasy, to where I was only the cry of a nerve away, begging, and then, if they wished, simply abandon me there, letting me try to cling there, in place, until, protesting, suffering, weeping I would slip back, only after a time, if it might again amuse them, sometimes with so little as a few deft touches, to be forced to begin again the same ascent. Considering such power held over us by men, it is perhaps clearer now why women such as I strive desperately to be pleasing. Not all instruments of torture are of iron, not all implements of discipline are of leather. An analogue may be noted, of course, between such torture and the treatment often inflicted upon the males of my old world by women of my old world, in pursuit of their own purposes. But such matters need not concern us here. Rather they lie between the women of my old world and the men, or males, of that world. Here, as you might suppose, such techniques are not at the disposal of women such as I. The prerogatives of such torture, if it is to be inflicted, lie not in our hands but in those of men. We have been vanquished. I would not have it otherwise.

I heard again the sounds of voices, from the house. The rest period must be over!

I looked wildly, frantically, at he in whos arms I was captive.

He looked down upon me.

It was as though I was helpless, chained to the wall, at his mercy. It was as though I were on the ledge, bound hand and foot.

He moved, slightly.

And then suddenly there was a different helplessness, one which seemed for an instant to recognize, and then flee in terror before what could not be stopped. And then it was as though it stood to the side in awe.

I clutched him!

It was the yielding, and that of one of my kind!

Again and again I wept and sobbed.

No longer did I then, in those moments, care for the danger, or whether I cried out, or if he cried out, or about the guards, or who might enter the garden! Nothing mattered, nothing was real but the felling, the sensations of the moment!

I only then became aware of the might of him, too, as though molten, charged and flooding, within me.

I held to him.

He looked down at me.

My surrender, I gather, had been found satisfactory.

I did not want him to let me go, but, too, I was terrified now. We were in the garden!

I tried to pull back, a little bit. Did he not know the danger?

He pulled the wet silk from my mouth. He lifted it a little, to the side, and the folds fell out, and he dropped it to the grass, beside us.

I was helpless, of course, pinioned. And then, again, he had both his arms about me.

I could not now understand his expression, as he looked down upon me.

“In the house, were you first trained,” he said, “did those there speak as I do?”

I could not move. I was helpless in his arms.

I wanted to flee, and yet, too, I wanted to remain here, held. He had had me, and now was interrogating me. What was his intent regarding me? How much at his mercy I was! Clearly his interest in me was more than a fancy of a moment, a whim in a garden. I was frightened. He had put me to his pleasure almost casually because I was there, a matter of convenience. But his primary interest in me, I was certain, went well beyond the gratification and entertainment, slyly stolen, he might derive from one of a garden’s casually encountered, exquisitely figured, frightened, helplessly responsive flowers. I had been put to his pleasure almost as a matter of course. Now that he had done with me, he returned to his questions. Well then was I reminded of my own triviality and meaninglessness.

How helpless we are!

“They spoke the language,” I said. Here when one spoke of “the language” it was well understood what language was meant. Of course, those where I was trained spoke “the language.” They were not barbarians. It was I who was the barbarian.

“No,” he said. “I mean their accents.”

“They spoke the language differently,” I said.

“Did you recognize their accents?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

To be sure, I had heard such accents here and there, after having left the pens, and had heard them even, sometimes, though rarely, outside the wall, but I did not know what accents they might be. Indeed, I had heard a variety of diverse accents on this world.

My fears flooded back, again, upon me. What could be his interest in such matters?

“Turn your head from side to side,” he said.

I obeyed, held, frightened.

“Your earrings are pretty,” he said.

They were tiny, and of gold. They matched the bangles, the armlet, the bracelets.

“They contrast very nicely with the darkness of your hair,” he said.

I looked up at him, pleadingly.

I did not understand him.

Of course he knew I was a pierced ear girl, with all that that, on this world, implied. He would have known that before he had ordered me to disrobe.

He must release me!

No, he must continue to hold me, if only for a moment!

No, no, he must release me!

We were in the garden!

Did he not realize the danger?

“Where your ears pierced when you can to our world,” he asked.

“No,” I said.

“They were pierced in the pens?” he asked.

“No,” I whispered.

There was, at the pens in which I was first trained, I had learned, an additional charge for that, as there would have been for the piercing of the septum, permitting the insertion of a nose ring.

“Where were they pierced?” he asked.

“Not there!” I said.

He looked down at me.

“I do not know what you want,” I wept. “I am not special,” I protested. “I am not different from thousands of others.”

He drew back a little, and surveyed me. “Do not underestimate yourself,” he said. “You would bring a quite good price.”

I regarded him, in anguish.

“But, essentially,” he said, “what you say is true. You are, in your essentials, in what you are, no different from thousands of others.”

“Please let me go!” I begged.

“But that would have been to have been expected,” he said.

“Please,” I begged.

“Ah!” he said, suddenly.

But I had not meant to excite him!

But then again I felt him surgent within me and found myself again, even as I heard approaching voices, put to his purposes.

I then clung again to him, sobbing, helpless.

Did he not know the danger?

He looked at me, suddenly, fircely. “Are you Janice?” he asked.

“I am Gail!” I said. “Gail!”

“Have you ever been called Janice?” he asked.

“No!” I said.

“Are you lying?” he said.

“No!” I said.

“Do you know the penalties for one such as you who lies?” he asked.

“Yes!” I moaned.

“But you are not lying?”

“No!” I said.

“Do you know a girl, one of your sort, who is called ‘Janice’?”

“No!” I wept. I had been told how I must respond to such questions, if they were asked.

“Have you ever been to the city of Treve?” he asked.

“No! No!” I said. I had been warned of the possibility of such questions. I had been instructed as to how to respond. To be sure, it had not seemed likely to me, nor, I think, to those who had instructed me, that I would ever find myself in a situation in which I might be expected to respond to such inquiries. How could such matters be of interest to anyone? Why should such information be regarded as sensitive, or confidential? These things made no sense to me. I understood nothing of them. Perhaps those who had instructed me were mad. I knew nothing of interest or importance of anyone. I was not important. I was not special. I was no different from thousands of others, save, perhaps, in being such that I might, in certain situations, bring a higher price then certain others.

I looked up at him.

Let him not concern himself with such things!

I was only what I was, nothing more.

But might not that suffice, for the little that I might be worth?

I, his, in his arms, was in the garden. I was confused, frightened at his questions. But, too, I was shaken, with my sensations and myself. I had found myself, one such as I, once again put deliberately, and with perfection, to the pleasure of one such as he. My station, my condition, was unmistakable. I had been reminded, clearly, in no uncertain terms, of what I was. I lifted my lips timidly to his, gratefully, hoping to be permitted to touch them.

How hard they seemed, how soft mine!

Then eagerly, helplessly, gratefully, for there was time, there must be time, did I, my head lifted, kiss again and again at his lips, his face, his shoulders, his body.

Then I heard a voice, that of the one who was first amongst us, near, almost at hand.

I uttered a tiny cry of misery, and tried to pull back, but I was held in place, close to that mighty chest.

I heard a shrill cry of rage.

I turned my head to the right and beheld, in terror, she who was first among us!

But he did not fling me from him or leap up. Rather, to my terror, my misery, he held me there, helpless, unable to move, naked in his arms.

He then released me, and he stood up. I scurried to my silk and clutched it, and, kneeling, trembling, terrified, held it closely about me.

He turned, rather in irritation, it seemed, to regard those who had come upon us, she who was first amongst us, carrying a long, supple switch of leather, and her two assistants, both large women.

In one hand he held, loosely, his tunic, and the belt, with his wallet.

The three women who had come upon us were silked, of course, but rather differently, and more richly, then I had been, as was to be expected, as they were much higher in this place, in the garden then I. My silk, that now clutched about me, with its irregular mottling of dampnesses, from where it had been held in my mouth, where it had served as my gag, stifling my cries, keeping me silenced, that silk bearing even in places the imprint of my teeth, where it had been desperately bitten upon, clenched between them, as I had become more and more helpless, even to becoming uncontrollable, was no more than a brief, diaphanous tunic. But, as mine, there silks, though not diaphanous, were in their way excellently revealing, as such things are intended to be. She who was first amongst us wore a sleeveless silken vest, scarlet, against which her beauty protested. It was tied shut with a tiny string, the ends of which are loose, that they might, with a casual tug, be freed, the vest then ready to be slipped away, to the back. Her two assistants wore scarlet halters, fastened in front with accessible hooks. She who was first amongst us, doubtless because of her standing, had, in her belly silk, low upon her hips, been permitted the rather modest Harfaxian drape, in which the silk is rectangle, which fastens at the left hip. In this fashion the right leg is concealed. To be sure the left, as the wearer moves, is revealed. Indeed, her left side, is, in effect, bared to the vest. It was fastened at the left hip with a golden clasp. Her two assistants had been shown no such indulgence. Their belly silks, low on their hips, consisted each of two narrow rectangles. This is more common. These silks, in their case, were hemmed over a belly cord, which was fastened at the left hip. The cord must be tied in such a way that it may be easily tugged loose. Most men here, as on my old world, are right-handed. Such silks, however, are not always hemmed over the cord, or belt. Often they must be merely thrust, before and behind, over the cord, or belt. In this case they may be even more easily removed. Like myself the three of them were ornamented. They, too, wore bangles, and bracelets, and each, too, had an armlet. But they, unlike I, had necklaces, some with pendants. The beads of these, and the pendants, hung sometimes to their bared midriffs, moving against them, touching them. We were all pierced-ear girls, as it is said. I wore, as I have mentioned, tiny golden rings in my ears. Those were what I had been permitted. She who was first amongst us wore more elaborate adornments, which, in wire and tiny plates, hung down beside her cheeks. Her two assistants had in their ears large golden loops. All wore talmits, it should be mentioned, those fillets about the head indicative of authority. She who was first amongst us wore as fillet a narrow, golden band. It had a jewel, a ruby, set in its center. Her assistants had common fillets, of scarlet silk. One additional adornment, or mark, did we all have. We were all collared. Have I neglected to mention that I was collared? Perhaps. One takes such things so much for granted. It is customary for such as we to be collared, of course. We all wore golden collars, or, actually, collars plated with gold. These collars locked behind the back of the neck. We cannot remove them. We are quite helpless in them, I assure you. They are not uncomfortable. Often one even forgets that one is wearing one. But one may always be reminded, of course. The brands, which we all wore, of course, mark us as what we are. That is useful, as I have suggested, for legal, and commercial, purposes. The collar, commonly, identifies the house, or he who holds absolute rights over us. Both the brand and the collar are in their diverse ways, identifications, but the collar, as you can understand, is somewhat more specific. Collars can change, of course. But the brand does not. It remains.

“What are you doing here?” demanded she who was first amongst us, Aynur, of the tall, long-haired fellow to whose lips, to whose face, to whose shoulders and body, but a moment before, I had been pressing kisses, only, in terror, hearing her approach, to try to draw back, but not being permitted to do so, rather being held exactly in place, exactly where I was, naked in his arms.

“What?” she screamed. “What?”

I, kneeling, terrified, clutched the bit of silk against me. What, under the circumstances, a pathetic, insignificant defense it constituted for my modesty!

“What?” she screamed.

I was frightened. Aynur had a vile temper, but I had never seen her this way before. She seemed beside herself with rage. I trusted that she had not seen me kissing the stranger. That would not do at all! She must not have seen that! I must have been simply taken and used, without my consent, totally against my will, you understand. I must pretend to have found the whole matter distasteful. I must pretend to have experienced no interest, or gratification. Our passion, in theory, at least in the gardens, is to be regulated, reserved exclusively for he who holds total rights over us. But I do not know who actually believes such a thing. They make us, totally, the properties of men, and such that we can change hands and collars in a moment, and then act as though our exclusive passion must accompany, in effect, a bill of sale. It is absurd. Certainly the girls in the taverns and brothels are not expected to fulfill such a myth. Even in the gardens are we not sometimes placed at the disposal of others, as he who holds total rights over us, perhaps in his astuteness, or liberality, may decree? And if we have not been pleasing, and if we have not well responded, as may be determined objectively, from the effects of such responses on our bodies, may we not be severely punished, or even slain? Are we not, too, for example, often used in our way to further the fortunes of those who hold total rights over us, as our beauty might contribute, say, to the decor of the banqueting hall, and our activities, such as our serving and entertaining, sometimes on a chain between the tables, to the quality of the banquet itself? And is it not expected that we will writhe gratefully, and well, on the chain, and authentically, which matter may be checked? No, asking us not to feel, not to be what we are, is too much. Rather one might as well scold helpless, oil-drenched straw for bursting gratefully into flame at the touch of the torch. We are at the mercy of all men, as what we are. Do not blame us. But I must pretend, or course, that I had felt nothing. One must pretend to subscribe to the myth. That is important. I trusted that Aynur had not seen me kissing him, and as I had, as what I was! Perhaps Aynur believes the myth, I thought. I hoped, desperately, that Aynur might believe the myth.

“What?” she screamed. He did not respond to her.

“I shall call the guards!” she hissed.

I was puzzled, of course, that she had not yet done so. Aynur cast a look of hatred toward me. I knew she did not like me, but this look was terrifying. I had never seen her look like that at anyone. I put my eyes down, swiftly, in terror. I felt very small and vulnerable, there on the grass in the garden, the silk clutched before me.

“The garden is private,” said Aynur to the stranger. “You did not have permission to enter! You should not be here!”

again he did not respond to her.

“You have no right to be here,” she said to the stranger. There seemed indignation, outrage, fury, in her voice.

He merely regarded her.

I could hear the fountain in the garden.

The rest period was over.

But the other flowers had apparently not received permission to reenter the garden. Or, perhaps, wisely, they had refrained from doing so.

I did not understand Aynur’s manner. She had discovered a stranger in the garden. She had not fled away. How did she know he had not come to pick fruit, to pluck flowers? How did she know that he might not leap at her, and seize her, and gag her, and bind her, hand and foot, and carry her to the wall? How did she know that she might not, bound hand and foot, squirming, in a net, or bound on a rope, he hauled by confederates to the top of the wall, thence to be hurled to a great cushion of straw below, heaped in a wagon bed, to plunge beneath it, to be held there, invisible, by another confederate, the wagon then trundling away? I did not understand her manner. She had not fled. She had not called the guards.

Of course, she must know the man!

I lifted my head a little and, for a moment, met her eyes. But she then again faced the stranger. He was the center of her fury, her rage. I had, in the moment that our eyes had met, seen that I was a secondary consideration. I had seen that I was not important. I had also seen, in that look, that I could be attended to later.

The stranger did not seem frightened of Aynur.

Perhaps, as he had said, he might be known in the house. But that would not, presumably, uninvited, have given him permission to enter the garden, to partake, unlicensed, of its delights, such as they might be.

That he had no such permission seemed clear in Aynur’s attitude.

Did she wish that it had been she, instead, who had been found in the garden?

Why had I not resisted?

Why had I not called out for the guards?

Surely Aynur would wish to know that.

She must not learn that I had been near the wall!

That is why I had not resisted, why I had not cried out, of course, because I had been near the wall. It was that which had, in this place, given him, a stranger here, such power over me, not that such as he did not, independently, in a sense, have absolute power over one such as I.

But I knew that this was false, of course. I had disrobed quickly enough. I had obeyed quickly enough. I had wanted his hands upon me. I had wanted to be in his arms. Such as I belong to such as he. And the garden is lovely, with only the flowers, so beautiful, but meaningless and incomplete in themselves, and the glimpse, occasionally, of a guard. Too seldom did we, in this house, entertain, and amongst the flowers, too seldom did we, in this house, entertain, and, amongst the flowers, too seldom was I included amongst the entertainers. When Aynur made her choices, we all hopefully, beautifully, excitingly arrayed, silked, perfumed, bedecked, made-up, before her, I had been almost away rejected, told to remove my things and report back to my mat. I did not think that I was so much worse then the other flowers. Surely I might have sufficed for the bearing of trays or the pouring of wine. Some men had found me, I recalled, not unattractive. It was almost sometimes, I thought as though I were not a flower, or at least not a flower in the same simple, innocent sense as the others, but that I might be something rather different. It was almost as though I were here less as a flower than merely as something else, something to be kept in the garden. It was almost as though I were hidden here. To be sure, we are all kept in the garden. In a sense, we are all hidden here, not for the eyes of all, but for those of he who holds absolute rights over us, and such others as he might permit. But these thoughts were foolish. I was only another flower, neither more nor less. I had not been put forth more because Aynur disliked me. So, too, evidently, did several of the others. This, I think, was perhaps because some resented the possibility that I might, in chains upon a sales block, guided by the deft touches of the whip, responding helplessly, bring a high price, perhaps one even challenging theirs. Another reason may have been in virtue of my origins I was the only girl of my world in the garden. We are not always popular with others such as we, of this world. Too, I had wanted, and desperately needed, his touch, because of what I am, and was, though I had fought it, and not understood it so clearly, even before I came to this world. Too, I had never even been touched by he who held absolute rights over me. I did not know if the others had or not. Indeed, I had never seen him, for, when I had been brought to the house, and stripped and displayed, he, or perhaps merely some agent, had viewed me from behind a screen. On those times I had served in the house, at suppers, or banquets, only his subordinates had been present. Only his name was known to me.

I looked at the stranger.

But he paid me no attention.

He must not tell that I had been near the wall. He must not let her know that I had, of my own will, kissed him, perhaps once or twice.

I looked at the two women with Aynur. They were Tima and Tana, her assistants. Those names are extremely common on this world, for women such as we. There must be thousands with such names. Both had doubtless, over time, in their sojourn in the collar, had many names. Even I, who had not been so long on this world, had had various names. We learn to answer quickly enough to whatever name is put on us. We do not have names in our own right, of course, given what we are, no more than, say, tarsk and sleen. Both Tima and Tana were large women. Either alone might have overpowered me easily. Tana looked at me and smiled. I looked down, frightened. At her right hip, over the belly cord, hung a pair of bracelets, small, sturdy, pretty bracelets. They were joined together with three links of steel.

“What have you to say for yourself?” demanded Aynur, angrily, of the stranger.

Her behavior, her attitude, her demeanor, her apparent indignation, her virulence, her rage, was I have suggested, puzzled me. I did not understand it, at all. Too, of course, it frightened me, terribly. What could it mean? What could be the explanation for these things? It was almost as though she might have been somehow, personally, insulated or betrayed.

“Well!” she demanded.

“Have you received permission to speak?” he inquired, quietly.

Tima, on Aynur’s right, gasped. Tana, on Aynur’s left, made a tiny noise, of fear.

His eyes regarded Tima and she flung herself to her knees in the grass, head down to the grass, palms of her hands on it, in obeisance, as I had been earlier. As his eyes fell then on Tana she, losing no time, assumed the same position. The two small, sturdy, pretty bracelets, hanging at her right hip, made a tiny noise, striking together, as she assumed the position. They then hung from the cord a little before her right hip. Both Tima and Tana were large women, but before such a man, and before others, even less than he, they were small.

His eyes then fell upon Aynur. He regarded her, evenly. For the briefest moment, as though in futility and rage, she met his eyes. Then, shaken, uttering a cry of misery, and rage, her eyes brimming with tears, she removed her eyes from his. Then she was before him, as the others, her head down to the grass, her palms upon it, too, in obeisance. The golden fillet, with its ruby, was at the grass. Beside her right hand, discarded, was her dreaded leather switch. I trusted that she had not dallied too long in her obedience. Men such as he tend not to be patient with such as we.

He looked down at me, and I looked away, clutching the silk about myself.

“May I speak?” begged Aynur.

“All three, position!” snapped he.

The three women, instantly, assumed the common position, kneeling, back on heels, back straight, knees wide, palms of hands down on the thighs.

“You may raise your heads,” he said.

They might now regard him. It had been permitted to them. It pleased me, of course, to see them thusly, as any of us, even they, might be before one such as he. But then I looked down. They had been knelt before a man in a common posture of submission. Given their position in the garden, and the considerable authority they held here, over me, and the others, I did not think it would be wise for me to permit myself to be detected remarking this in any obvious manner. Too, of course, I could be immediately put in the same posture.

“May I speak?” begged Aynur, in tears, in rage.

“No,” he said.

Tears of frustration ran down her cheeks.

He then looked down at me, and I looked down.

I did not fully understand that look. It was not simply a look at a girl he had used, a bemused glance at an instrument, now unimportant, which had served his purpose.

I was not special, I told myself. I was not different from thousands of others.

I made as though to draw my wet silk hastily over my body.

“You have not received permission to silk yourself,” he said.

Quickly I put down the silk. I was still kneeling.

“Tunic,” he said, handing it to me.

I stood obediently, and shook out the tunic, and kissed it, as one is trained to do. I then helped him into it.

“Belt and wallet,” he said.

These, too, I kissed, and, putting my arms about him, trying to touch him as little as possible, for the others were watching, affixed the belt, with wallet, in place.

But the nearness to him made me tremble, he a man, and one of this world.

He pointed to the grass, to one side, and I knelt there, one such as I at the feet of one such as he.

He kicked his sandals to one side, a few feet away. Then he regarded Aynur. She looked at him, almost in protest, disbelievingly. He then pointed to the sandals, and snapped his fingers.

Aynur dropped to all fours and crawled to the first sandal, picked it up in her teeth, and brought it to him, and dropped it at his feet. She then fetched the second sandal, in the same manner. She then looked up at him, but he merely indicated, with a gesture, that she should return to her place, which she did, kneeling between Tima and Tana.

Aynur, she who was first amongst us, Aynur, in her rich silk, and ornaments, Aynur, in her golden talmit, and the affixed ruby, had fetched sandals, and before such as Tima and Tana, not to mention before one such as my lowly self! One this world hierarchy exists, and status, and rank, and distance. Such things, always real, are not here concealed. Here they are in the open. The people of this world do not deign to conceal that each is not the same as every other, and not merely is this true of those such as I. Such articulations, of course, so healthy with respect to maintaining social stability, constitute an institutional counterpart to the richnesses of difference in an articulated ordered, holistic nature. On this world, for better or for worse, order seems most often preferred to chaos, and truth to fiction.

Aynur had been made to fetch sandals, and before Tima and Tana, and such as I!

It is not that important thing here was the fetching of the sandals themselves. Not at all.

Indeed, I myself would have been pleased to fetch such sandals, and lovingly. It is a way of pleasing, and showing what we are. It is a way of beautifully serving. To be sure, such an act can be sued for disciplinary purposes, forcing us to understand clearly what we are, that we should bring the sandals so.

But it is one thing of course for one such as I to be permitted to bring sandals to one such as he in, say, the privacy of our precious intimacy, or before peers, where I might find myself honored before others, I and not they accorded this permission, or even in a public place, such as the baths, or the vestibule of the gymnasium, where no one perhaps but I, treasured it, an relishing it, thinks anything of it, but it is quite another for one such as Aynur to be forced to do so in a situation such as this, before such as we. Indeed, I suspected that Aynur, had she been alone with him, had she not been before us, had she not had her talmit, had her hair been loose, had she been naked, save perhaps for her collar and some ornaments, might have begged prettily, and quite abjectly, upon her knees, for the permission to render him such a service. But this, of course was not such an occasion.

Tears ran down Aynur’s cheeks, she kneeling between Tima and Tana.

The worst, of course, was not that she, who was first amongst us, had been forced to behave as though she might be the least amongst us. No, rather, the worst was that she, having fetched the sandals, had then been merely returned to her place. It had been hers merely to fetch the sandals. She would not, it seemed be permitted to place them upon his feet. He would not, it seemed, have her so much as touch him.

He then regarded me, imperiously. But I was not special! I was not important!

He pointed to the sandals, at his feet. He snapped his fingers.

I hurried to kneel before him. I picked up on sandal, looked up at him lowered my head, kissed the sandal, looked up at him again, and then bent to put the sandal on his foot, which I did, carefully trying the thongs. I then did the same with the other sandal. We are taught to do this in this fashion. One commonly, unless otherwise instructed, places the right sandal first, then she left. I did it in that fashion, of course. Two of the first things we are taught are the bathing and dressing of a man. I completed my ministrations by kissing his feet, of course, each in turn, and then backing a bit away, and keeling, in common position. We may thusly await further instructions, if any may be forthcoming.

Aynur sobbed in fury.

This frightened me. It was not my fault that I had been ordered to tie his sandals! I had not, in fear of her, at least as far as I was aware, put myself in the way of being subjected to such commands. I had not, as far as I knew, at least clearly, attempted to call myself again to his attention. I had not attempted, or had I, to solicit such commands? There are, of course, ways in which women such as I, subtly, wordlessly, with tiny movement of the body, a seemingly inadvertent placement of ourselves, a lifting of the bosom, a catching of the breath, the shyest of glances, the tiniest movement of a lip, can petition, and even beg. Had I don’t such a thing, naturally, without even being fully aware of it? I might have done so, I knew. It would not have been unusual in the sort that I was. We are such, even helplessly, you see.

Her eyes seemed to bore into me. Tart, she seemed to say, slut! But I could not help it if he had chosen me to tie his sandals! Tart, tart, slut, slut, her eyes seemed to say. Perhaps I had done something. I feared I had. It would have been only too natural! But then I was sure that even though I might have in some subtle way solicited permission to perform this service for him, which on a very deep level I desired to do, it would, in any event have been required of me.

Aynur, I recalled, had dallied, if only for the briefest moment, in assuming before him the position of obeisance. Such things are not likely to be forgotten, or overlooked. Instant obedience is expected of us. And these men, as I have suggested, do not tend to be patient.

Grievous at his hands was the punishment of the lovely, imperious Aynur, who was first amongst us in the garden. She had not been permitted speech. She must, before us, like a low girl, publicly fetch sandals. And then, the sandals fetched, she had been returned to her place, denied the opportunity to place them upon his feet. How mocked, how scorned, how reduced, was lofty Aynur, in her golden fillet, with the ruby!

Aynur wept in frustration and rage. Her small fists were clenched on her thighs. I had never seen her like this, almost beside herself. She was, after all, it seemed, in spite of her authority, in spite of her power, like us, only a woman.

She must remain positioned.

His will had been made clear.

She would obey.

Aynur looked at me in fury. I trembled. In part of me I was not at all pleased to have been made use of in this way, to have been used, in effect, as an instrument for her punishment. That would certainly, in once sense, not give me an enviable position in the garden. But, of course, in another sense, I was terribly pleased that it had been I, and not she, or not Tima, or Tana, whom he had selected out for the kissing and tying of his sandals. Only I, who only a few days ago had first been permitted silk in the garden! This pleased my vanity no small bit! Too, in a sense, it would surely elevate my status among the flowers, if they came to know of it. Might they not envy me this distinction, though, too, recognizing only too clearly the perils which it might entail?

Then I became conscious that I was once again beneath the gaze of the stranger.

I hoped, in fear, that I had pleased him. Certainly he had not been stinting in taking his will of me.

I flushed, too, recalling how I had been given no choice but to yield as what I was, and how with what authority he had made me his, and the spasmodic raptures which had accompanied my seizure and conquest.

He continued to regard me.

I trembled.

He must not tell that I was near the wall!

He smiled. I suspected then that he must have guessed my fears. How trivial such things might appear to him, the alarms of a small, curvaceous animal, but how momentous they were to me! He could leave, but I must remain in the garden!

He continued to regard me.

Many were the questions he had asked me.

I had been frightened by these questions, as to what might be their purport, or significance.

Why did he ask me if I were “Janice,” or had ever known a slave named “Janice,” or if had ever been in Treve?

I had, of course, responded negatively, as I had been instructed to do. But such questions, it habe been thought, by myself, and others, I supposed, would never be asked of me. But now they had been asked of me.

What did this mean?

But I was not special. I was not important. I was only another girl, only another flower, nothing more, in her collar, in a garden.

Then I could no longer meet that gaze. I put down my head, frightened.

He then took his leave of the garden.

This left me alone with Aynur, and Tima and Tana.

In a moment of two, perhaps when she was sure he was gone, Aynur leaped, enraged, to her feet. Tima and Tana, too, rose to their feet. Aynur looked after his route of departure, apparently a quite open one, though the inner gate, leading to the house, then doubtless though our quarters, then though the other gates, sealing off our quarters, and thence to the main portions of the house, and, eventually, out the main portal. He would then be outside the house, in the street. I had been brought here hooded, so I had never seen the city, which, I gathered, was a large one, nor even the street outside, which seemed to be a busy one, particularly in the early morning. Many of the flowers, incidentally, were quite as ignorant, and sheltered, as I. We wondered what the world might be like on the other side of the wall. To be sure, we were sometimes frightened. Sometimes we heard cries of pain, of such as we, and the sound of a lash. Sometimes we heard lamentations, of such as we, and the sounds of chains, and the cracking of whips. Sometimes we heard even, to angry cries, and the cracking of whips, cries of weariness, and misery, and effort, of such as we, cries mingling with the sounds of the tightening and slackening, and tightening, of harness, the groaning of heavily laden wagons, the creaking of large wooden wheels turning slowly on pavement. At such times you may well understand how it was that we within the wall, in the garden, in our delicate, pampered beauty, our light silks, our golden collars, might exchange frightened glances. Our lives would have been quite different, it seemed clear, if we were on the other side of the wall. Sometimes even I was grateful for the guards, and for the height and sturdiness of that massive wall within which we were sheltered. Only too obviously might there be perils, and fearful severities, outside the wall. I was not insensitive to such things. Indeed, I was much afraid of them. But still, on the whole, even so, I wanted to be out of the garden. Better to squirm in a tavern, better to trudge behind an army as one of its collared camp followers, better to be harnessed to a peasant’s plow, wary of his lash, than to languish in the garden! If I were a flower, let me blossom in the fields, or among paving stones, not in the garden. I wanted to be outside, where I could see, and, yes, be seen, where I could actively and visibly be what I was, serving and loving. Better a steel collar in the street than one of gold in the garden!

“I shall call the guards!” wept Aynur. But she did not do so.

It might be mentioned that Aynur, and Tima and Tana, despite their authority, and their importance, in the garden, were less than the least of the guards. They, too, in the final analysis, you see, were only “flowers.” More importantly, they were females, and the guards were males.

I wondered why Aynur did not call the guards.

She must, I conjectured, know the man.

Suddenly Aynur pointed to the dreaded switch at her feet and Tana knelt down, quickly, and retrieved the switch, and, then, head down, humbly, with both hands, lifted it up to Aynur, who seized it away from her. Tana then rose to her feet. All three then faced me.

My silk was on the grass, by my right knee.

“Position,” said Aynur. “Head up!”

I now knelt before them, as Aynur had commanded, positioned, my head up.

I was distressed, but dared not reveal my feelings.

Surely it was not before such as they that I should be so kneeling. It was not that such postures were not suitable for me. They were eminently suitable for me. Indeed, they were quite correct for me. Indeed, I belonged in them. But not before such as they.

“It seems that Gain has been naughty,” said Aynur.

“No!” I said.

“What?” asked Aynur.

“I have not been naughty!” I said.

“Who has not been naughty?” asked Aynur.

“Gail has not been naughty!” I said.

“you may now explain what occurred,” said Aynur.

“I was in the garden,” I began.

“During the rest period?”

“Yes.”

“What were you doing in the garden during the rest period?” asked Aynur. “Why were you not on your mat?”

“I was not tired!” I said. “I wanted to walk in the garden!”

“But it was the rest period,” she said.

I was silent.

It was not forbidden to be in the garden during the rest period. She would know that. But it would not do to remind her of it.

“There are ways to keep you in the vicinity of your mat, you know,” she said.

“Yes,” I said.

There was, near my mat, as there were also near other mats, a heavy ring, set in the floor. It would be easy to chain me to that, presumably by an ankle ring.

“Did you expect to meet someone in the garden?” she asked.

“No!” I said.

Even objectively, of course, such meetings would be difficult and dangerous to arrange. We had no direct contact with the outside, and, for most practical purposes, those outside had no direct contact with us. And there was the wall, of course, and the knives at the top. Who, unsolicited, could simply come through the house, and enter the garden? But it seems that one had. He had said he was “known in the house.” It seemed likely. It is not the case that the gardens are without politics, nor that intrigue is not rampant within them, but these things are usually amongst the flowers themselves. As flowers, as far as outside contacts might occur, we were almost entirely at the mercy of others, guards and such. Sometimes there were attempts from outside houses to reach suspected flowers within. For example, let us suppose that a woman, not like one of us, is suspected of being held in a given garden. One might then attempt to ascertain this. Too, might she not attempt bribe guards, or such, promising rich rewards fro her release? But let her not be apprehended in such an intrigue, lest her lofty status vanish by morning, and she find herself in the garden then nor more than another such as we. Then the matter would take on another complexion. It would become, in all probability, then, not a difference between captivity and freedom, but a mere changing of collars. In all intrigues within the garden, involving the outside, a guard, or staff member, is almost always involved. They are necessary as intermediaries. But such things are terribly dangerous. Too, of course, there can be internal liaisons, and such. A flower, for example, much taken with a handsome guard, upon whom she has spied, might, risking all, place herself in his way, letting her needs and feelings be known. Too, of course, such liaisons might be initiated by a guard or staff member, for such are not as ignorant of the contents of a garden as is sometimes supposed. But, then again, there is terrible risk in such matters.

“Go on,” said Aynur.

“I was not tired,” I said. “I wanted to walk. I went into the garden.”

“You did not know anyone was there?”

“No!” I said. “I thought the garden was empty.”

“But it was not, it seems,” said Aynur.

“No!” I said.

“There was a man there?”

“Yes!” I said.

“Were you surprised?” asked Aynur.

‘Yes!” I said. “I was shocked! I was terrified! I was horrified! A man there! In the garden!”

“What did you do?”

“I did not know what to do,” I said.

“It seems that you managed to do something,” said Aynur. Tana laughed.

“I had no choice!” I protested.

“You could not help yourself,” suggested Aynur.

“I was seized!” I said. “I was helpless!”

“Perhaps you were beaten,” said Aynur, “but you do not appear to have been beaten. Perhaps you were bound, hand and foot, but there do not appear to be rope marks on your wrists or ankles, or at your belly.”

“I was overpowered!” I protested. I supposed that this was, in a sense, true. I had been overpowered by his authority, by my consternation, by my not knowing who he was, or his license to be here, by the hold he had over me, having seen me by the wall, by my own desperate, crying needs.

“Doubtless you resisted?” said Aynur.

“Yes!” I cried. “But I was too weak. He was so much stronger than I!”

“Why did you not summon guards?” asked Aynur.

Why had she not, I wondered, summoned guards?

“Why did you not call out?” inquired Aynur.

“I was gagged!” I said, relievedly. “See? The silk is wet! It was put in my mouth.”

“It does not appear to have been wrested from you,” observed Aynur. “It does not seem to have been torn from your body.”

“The disrobing loop was drawn!” I said.

“Who drew the loop?” asked Aynur.

“He!” I lied. “He!”

“And you were gagged with the silk?”

“Yes!”

“Why did you not cry out before the silk was removed?” asked Aynur.

I looked at her, frightened.

“It could not very well be in your mouth and on your body at the same time,” she said.

“He seized me from behind,” I said. “He held me back against him, his left hand over my mouth. With his right hand he drew the loop. As I struggled the silk fell. He then flung me to my back on the grass, and put the silk in my mouth!”

“It was tired in place?”

“No,” I admitted.

“You did not attempt to eject it?”

“I did not dare to do so,” I said.

“When we came upon you,” she said, “the silk was not in your mouth.”

“it had become dislodged,” I said.

“And you did not cry out?”

“I was afraid,” I said. This would be plausible. At least I hoped so. Such a man, of course, could have snapped my neck with one hand.

“It seems then that you are in this matter fully guiltless,” said Aynur.

“Yes!” I said, relieved.

“But he did put you to his purposes?” she asked.

“Yes,” I admitted.

There seemed no point in denying this.

We had, I recalled, been discovered naked in one another’s arms. Indeed, I recalled that I had been held for a time, naked in his arms, even after Aynur and the others had discovered us. I feared that he might have made it quite clear, even flagrantly so, to my shame and terror, what had been going on. I could only hope that I could convince Aynur that I was in these things only an unwilling, innocent victim. She must believe that!

“Poor Gail,” said Aynur.

I looked at her, gratefully.

“You felt nothing?” asked Aynur.

“No!” I said. “My passion, such as it might be, is reserved exclusively for he who holds total rights over me!”

I hoped that Aynur would believe the myth.

Aynur walked around, behind me.

“Kneel up a little,” she said. “And put the tops of your toes flat on the grass.”

I must obey.

“Ah!” said Aynur.

I trembled.

“The bottoms of our feet,” said Aynur, “are to be soft, and caressable. That is why we must consider the surfaces upon which we tread. That is the meaning of the lotions and creams with which they are treated.”

I did not respond.

“But the bottoms of your feet have been roughened. They are cut, and bloody. You have been near the wall.”

I did not speak.

“And apparently,” she said, “you were too stupid to have trod softly.”

She then walked around me again, so that she was, again, before me.

I had been alarmed at the sounds of voices. That was why I had hurried, foolishly, from the perimeter of sharpened stones. That is why my feet had been cut.

“You did not respond to the man who was here?” asked Aynur.

“No!” I said.

“How then do you explain the condition of your body, when you were found?” asked Aynur.

“I may have felt, a little,” I whispered.

It would do little good, I feared, to attempt to deny, to an observer as astute as Aynur, what would have been obvious. There are so many signs, the dilation of the pupils, the helplessness, the sheen of sweat, the oils, the smells, the mottling of the body, the erection of the nipples, such things.

“You have felt the whip, and iron on your wrists,” said Aynur.

“Yes,” I said.

“Do you still claim to have felt little?” she asked.

“No,” I whispered.

Women such as I, of course, and Aynur, and so many others inside the walls, and outside of them, are the most responsive of all women. We are not permitted, for example, dignity and inhibitions. Such are incompatible with the collar. We know what is expected of us, and what we must be like. And we are trained. And we are under discipline. Too, we are, I suspect, selected with heat in mind. It is presumably one of the properties which those whose business it is to acquire us keep in mind. Such a consideration may, in many cases, make the difference with respect to whether or not we are to be acquired. Such a property is apparently important, for example, when want lists are compared with inventories.

“Do you think I cannot recognize a hot little tart when I see one?” asked Aynur.

“I do not know,” I murmured.

“Do you think I have not read your papers?” she asked.

“I do not know,” I said. I could not read them, of course. I did not even know what they said. There was apparently some remark on them pertinent to my heat. He whose whip I had first kissed, in the corridor long ago, he who had later treated me with such cruelty, spurning me, throwing me to others, he whom, in the long nights in the kennels, I had never forgotten, had old me that I was supposedly quite “vital.” The matter had been confirmed in the pens, of course. I had wept with misery and shame for hours afterward. But the proper endorsements had been included, I had gathered, on my papers. Aynur, it seemed, could read.

“You were at the wall,” said Aynur.

“Yes,” I admitted.

“Although it may have been difficult for you to wholly refrain from feeling,” said Aynur, “you undoubtedly did your best.”

“Oh, yes, yes!” I said.

“And you remained totally inactive,” said Aynur.

“As inactive as possible,” I whispered.

“Then you did not, for example, kiss him?’

“Of course not!” I said.

Tima and Tana broke into laughter. I looked at them, frightened.

“You saw?” I asked.

“Yes!” said Aynur, in fury.

My heart sank.

I had not known how long they had been watching. Apparently it had been long enough. I had heard a voice. That of Aynur. And then, a moment later, she had cried out in fury. I had then, in terror, tried to pull back, but he had not permitted me to extricate myself. He had held me where I was, against him, in his arms, naked.

“Slut!” cried Aynur.

“He ordered me to kiss him!” I cried.

“And you did so reluctantly?’ she screamed.

“Yes, yes!” I cried.

“Liar! Liar!” she wept.

I was terrified. I almost lost position.

“Naked, collared tart!” she cried.

Did not Aynur wear a collar, too?Did her collar not fit as well as mine? Did it not proclaim its message on her neck, as mine did on mine? Was it not well fixed there, and was she not as incapable of removing it as I was of removing mine?

“Naked collared slut!” cried Aynur.

Was there such a difference between us? Was she so loftily garbed? Was she not in her way almost as naked as I? Was there truly so much more to her attire than mine, other than the necklaces, and the jewelry, the earrings, and such, richer than mine? Was there so much, for example, to the silk she wore, the open skirt, held only at the left hip by a single, easily detached golden clasp, one which might be flicked away with a finger, to the scarlet silken vest, against which her beauty strained, tied at the front with a scarlet string, one which could be undone with a single tug?

“Naked collared lying little slut!” cried Aynur.

She chastised me as might have a woman other than we! Surely she knew my condition, and nature. I did not think it was much other than hers. I had surely sensed that Aynur was frustrated in the garden, and that she was, at least latently, highly and powerfully, and significantly and helplessly, sexed. Perhaps she had sensed the same of me, though I was smaller, and so much more vulnerable. Perhaps that was why we had not cared for one another. Perhaps that was why she hated me.

“Lying slut!” wept Aynur.

I had then been, seen kissing the fellow in the garden. I had been unable to help myself. I recalled that I, conquered as such as he can do to such as I, had done so, willingly, eagerly, gratefully, helplessly, passionately, uncontrollably.

“Slut! Slut!” cried Aynur.

Did she wish that it had been she who had been caught in the garden?

“Slut! Slut!” she cried.

Would she have behaved so differently from me?

“Slut!” she wept.

I did not think she was so different from me, in what we were, but here, in the garden, in the articulated structure of this world, we were separated by a chasm of almost infinite proportions. She was first amongst us, and I was the newest and, surely, the least of the flowers.

“Slut!” she screamed, beside herself with rage.

She raised the switch and I cringed.

But the blow did not fall.

Aynur had lowered the switch.

Then she said, quietly, her voice unnaturally calm, “Bracelet her.”

Tana, seizing me by the hair, threw me forward on my belly, on the grass. Then she and Tima, one on each side, crouched beside me. Tima jerked my hands behind my back, and held them there. I heard the clink of the bracelets being removed from Tana’s belly cord, where they had been over the cord, near her right hip. Then, with two rather clear, definitive little snaps, tiny, but quite decisive little noises, the bracelets were locked upon me. Tima and Tana then remained where they were, one on each side of me. I lay there on my belly, on the grass, my hands pinioned behind me.

The quietness which had been in Aynur’s voice, and that unnatural calm of it, had terrified me more than her rage.

“Get her on her feet,” said Aynur, quietly.

I, but Tima and Tana, one on each side of me, by the upper arms, was drawn to my feet, and held there.

Aynur slipped the base loop of the switch over her left wrist. The base loop, in certain adjustments, supplies additional control and leverage to the user of the implement. It also, of course, assures greater security in its retention. Too, by its means, obviously, the switch may be conveniently suspended, for example, over a hook or peg, or, say, as Aynur now had it, over a wrist, freeing the hands. Aynur bend down and picked up the silk and, neatly carefully, very methodically, very deliberately, folded it, until it was again in the shape of a small, soft, layered rectangle, some three inches by five inches, as it had been earlier, when the stranger had placed it in my mouth.

Aynur looked at me.

I tried desperately to read her eyes.

I could not do so.

Then she thrust the silk crosswise in my mouth.

I bit down upon it.

I could still not read her eyes.

I was again gagged.

Aynur then turned about and went toward the house. “Bring her along,” she said, over her shoulder.

I, biting down on the silk, terrified, tears in my eyes, my upper arms helpless in the grip of Tima and Tana, my wrists behind me. Locked in bracelets, stumbling was conducted toward the house.