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experienced by many slave girls, a joy which, otherwise, would seem
inexplicable. The second major purpose with respect to the effect on the girl,
of Course, is that she is touching and, in effect, in the bathing, caressing a
man's body. She is intimately close to the male, even to the extent of sensual
tactuality. Being alive and hormonally active, of course, this is arousing to
her. And it is, of course, particularly arousing to a slave female, for she
knows she is fit meat for the lust of men. Does her very condition not tell
her that? Too, of course, she herself, though touching, is not touched. This
is frustrating to her, naturally, and intensifies her desire, usually near the
surface in a slave, to be awaken in the arms of the master. From the point of
the man, too, of course, there are several purposes of the bath. Some of these
are related to those pertinent to the girl. First, he is served, as the
master. He is master. Second, it is not unpleasant to be washed humbly by a
beautiful woman. Third, such service tends to arouse the girl. It is not
uncommon, when such a bath has been finished, and he has been toweled by the
beauty, that she kneels before him and begs to be raped.
"The bath is finished, Master," said the girl, standing before me.
I jerked loose the yellow cord from her hair. I then, with the cord, tied her
wrists behind her back. I thought it well that she should feel herself tied.
I then threw thick love furs at the foot of the couch. She heard them. I
lifted the chains there and put them on top of the furs.
I then conducted her to a place at the foot of the couch. She stood there on
the furs.
Often slave girls are not permitted on the couch. They are used at its foot. I
took the steel collar, the rounded, narrow metal loop, with its lock, which
she had brought with her into the room. I snapped it about her throat. It
fitted closely.
"I am now a collared female," she said. I walked away from her, and placed the
key among my things.
I returned to her, then, and looked at her. Gorean men truly look at women,
and they know themselves looked at, truly.
"My brand," she said, "is the common Kajira mark. I hope it pleases Master." I
regarded it, the staff and fronds, delicate and-incisive, beauty subject to
discipline.
Quickly I snapped my fingers, sharply. She knelt immediately on the furs,
among the chains. She knew well where she knelt. She knelt back on her heels,
spreading her knees.
I then sat on the edge of the couch, at its bottom, the palms of my hands
resting on its furs, and looked upon her.
I wanted to howl with pleasure.
Beverly Henderson, naked and bound, knelt before me, in the position of the
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pleasure slave.
"Master?" she asked.
I noted that she had assumed the position spontaneously. That interested me.
"Master?" she inquired.
I knew that come what may I must have her, and have her well. If she were not
sent forth in the morning, perhaps bruised and sobbing, as a well-ravished
slave, the men of the holding of Policrates, and its master himself, would
grow thoughtful. My failure to subject her uncompromisingly to the predations
of my mastery would be certain to generate suspicion.
The true courier of Ragnar Voskjard, I knew, would be expected to handle women
well.
She pulled at the loops of braided yellow cord which held her well.
"Master has not deigned to speak to me," she said. "Am I to be whipped? Am I
not pleasing?"
I did not, of course, as was my intent, respond to her.
"Is Master not going to rape me?" she asked. "Did Master not select me out
from the other girls for his pleasure?"
She squirmed, miserably, before me.
"Perhaps I am not pretty enough now for Master," she said, "now that he has
seen me closely. I know that I am not as beautiful as many of the girls. I
know that they say that I am not a good slave, and that I am not well broken
as yet to my collar, but I will try to please you well."
It interested me to hear her speak. She spoke as might have a slave. Did she
not know she was from Earth?
"I cannot dance," she said. "And I do not know the love songs of slaves."
I said nothing.
"They have not taught me to dance," she whimpered, "nor have I been permitted
to learn the desire songs of heated slaves."
I said nothing.
"What does Master want of me?" she asked, piteously.
I did not respond to her.
"I acknowledge you as the courier of Ragnar Voskjard," she said. "I
acknowledge you as a great and important man. And I acknowledge myself as only
a miserable slave. It is a great honor for me that you have selected me out,
from the others, to be sent to your chambers this night, to serve you." She
looked toward me, piteously, though she could see nothing in the dark confines
of the blindfold. "I will try to be worthy of your choice," she said.
"I will try to please you."
Again I did not respond to her.
"I am frightened!" she said. "Obviously I must not be pleasing to you. Then
whip me, and call for another girl."
I did not move.
"But you are not at this, moment whipping me," she said, "nor calling for
another girl.
Now I am truly frightened, for I know that, somehow, now, you must find me
pleasing, or of interest. But I am terrified that a man such as you might find
me pleasing, or of interest. What
will he do to me? Oh, please, Master, speak to me! Let me tell, if only by the
tone of your voice, what are your intentions with respect to me! Oh, I am so
helpless! I am so helpless!"
I regarded her, and the steel collar on her throat, placed there by my own
hand.
"I am so helpless," she wept.
Then she tossed her head, and smiled. "You have me at something of a
disadvantage, Master," she laughed, "for whereas you may see. I am
blindfolded, and whereas you are free, I am kneeling collared, nude and
bound." Her lower lip suddenly trembled. "Please, speak to me, Master," she
begged.
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She was very beautiful.
She squirmed in the loops of yellow cord holding her wrists behind her back.
"I understand," she said, "why I must be blindfolded, that you have doubtless
here, in the privacy of your own chambers, removed your mask. I am not to be
permitted to see the face of the courier or Ragnar Voskjard, no more than
others, even though I am only a lowly slave. Who knows through what sales or
changings of hands a girl who is mere property such as I might pass? You
cannot risk that I might, someday, somewhere, if only by inadvertence, perhaps
by a startled cry or gesture, or a too-eager licking at your feet, compromise
your secret." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]