"Men of Earth," she said, "will not listen to a woman.
"Some men will," I said. "But what you intimate is true. Generally men of Earth will not listen to women. Their minds are closed on the matter. Being men they think all human beings are the same as themselves. It is a natural fallacy. Masculine women, those unfortunate creatures, in their frustration, exploit this weakness in the men of Earth. They tell them what they want to hear. This they then take as evidence confirming their preconceptions. It is sad that the true needs of women must then be sacrificed to the ignorance of men and the political and economic ambitions of hirsute frustrates."
"You speak cruelly," she said.
"I am sorry," I said. "Doubtless the matter is more complex than these simplicities suggest."
"I pity women who are not women," she said.
"On Earth," I said, "they proclaim themselves the true women."
"That is natural," she said. "What do you expect them to say?"
"I suppose you are right," I said.
"I think so," she said.
"What counts on Earth as the liberation of women." I said, "is cunformance to a certain stereotype, an aggressive, man-like, Lesbian image, one alien to, and offensive to, most normal women. Most women do not truly wish to be men. They find it difficult to believe that they cannot be true women until they are like men. A true liberation of women might be desirable, one which would permit them to be themselves, whatever they might be, a liberation that would free a woman to be feminine rather than constrict her to the imitation of manhood, a liberation without preset images and goals, which would permit her to find herself, wherever and however she might be, honestly, a liberation that would not be a gibberish of political prescriptions, a facsimile of the most sordid side of alien. malelike egoisms, a liberation that would free women in all their latent richness, their diversities and glories, that would be open enough to accept gratefully and, yes, celebrate such currently denigrated properties as softness, tenderness and love. A liberation of a woman. too, which does not permit her to be wild and free and sensuous, and true to her true needs, is not a liberation but a new imprisonment."
"I do not want to be liberated," she whispered to me.
"Do not fear," I told her. "You will not be."
She looked up at me, and kissed me.
"A woman as beautiful as you will be kept as a slave." I said. "You are too beautiful to be free."
"I will be kept as a slave?" she asked.
"Yes, because men want you as a slave," I said.
"My will means nothing? she asked.
"Nothing," I told her.
She looked up at me. "I am content, Master," she said.
"You are a slave," I said.
"I am a woman," she said.
"And a slave," I said.
"Yes, a slave," she said. Her eyes were moist. "Do you know why I am content?" she asked.
"No, Slave," I said.
"Because I am a slave," she said. "It is strange," she said, "we have talked of freedom, of liberation. And yet I feel that somehow, though I am slave, I am the most liberated, the most free of women. For the first time in my life I am free to obey, to love and be pleasing."
"You are not simply free to do such things," I said, "you must do them."
"Yes," she said, "and I have found myself, with bondage strings on my throat, in a barbarian's tent, on a strange world."
"It is here," I said, "that you are forced to be true to your own nature. Nothing else is permitted."
"True freedom," she said, "is to follow one's own nature."
"All else," I said, "is rhetoric, and the dictates of others."
"Then I am free!" she cried.
"Be quiet," I said, "or I will take you outside, tie you to the pole and whip you."
She looked at me, frightened. "Yes, Master," she whispered.
"Do you think you are free now?" I asked.
"No, Master," she said.
"You are not free," I said. "You are a slave. You are in total bondage."
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Do not forget it," I said.
"No, Master," she whispered, frightened.
"Perhaps I should whip you," I said.
"Rather let me try to please you," she begged. She was frightened.
"Very well," I said. The slave girl then fell to kissing me, eager to placate the master.
It is well not to let a girl grow too enamoured of her bondage. It is well not to let her forget that she is only a slave.
Later Audrey lay in my arms. "I am happy, Master," she whispered.
"Let us sleep now," I said.
"Yes, Master," she whispered. — "Master," she said.
"Yes," I said.
"I am pleased that you won my use in the gambling. I have been pleased to serve you."
"Let us sleep now," I said.
"Yes, Master," she whispered.
"Master," she said. She spoke very softly, that she not awaken me, should I be asleep.
"Yes," I said.
"Do you think Imnak will keep me a slave forever," she asked.
"No" I said, "I do not think so."
"Will he free me?" she asked.
"Of course not," I said.
"Will I be killed?" she asked.
"I do not think it likely," I said, "if you are sufficiently pleasing."
"I will be sufficiently pleasing," she said, earnestly. "What do you think will be done with me?" she asked.
"Imnak now has Poalu," I said.
"He does not need me any longer," she said.
"No," I said, "nor Thimble, though you are both pretty things to have in the tent."
"What will he do with us?" she asked.
"It is my guess," I said, "that both Thimble and yourself will be traded south next spring for tea and sugar."
"Traded! For tea and sugar!" she said.
"Yes," I said.
"Audrey Brewster sold for tea and sugar!" she said.
"Thistle, the slave," I said.
"But I am she," she said.
"Be pleased that panther girls are not selling you for arrow points and a handful of candy," I said.
"Who are panther girls?" she asked.
"Strong women, huntresses who frequent the northern forests," I said. "They enjoy selling feminine women like yourself."
"Oh," she said.
"You are a slave," I said. "Do you think you would like to be a woman's slave?"
"No," she said, shuddering. She kissed me. "I am a man's slave," she said.
"It is true," I said.
"Are panther girls truly so strong?" she asked.
"Not really," I said. "Once captured and conquered, collared and silked, their thigh burned by the iron, thrown to a man's feet. they are as quick to kiss and lick as any woman. Indeed, they make superb slaves. They bring high prices in the markets. They are only girls desperate to fight their femininity. When they are no longer permitted to do this they have no choice but to become marvelous women and slaves. A conquered panther girl is one of the most abject and delicious, and joyful, of slaves."
"I see, Master" she said.
"How would I be taken south?" she asked.
"Afoot, your neck tied to a sled," I said.
"I do not want to remain a slave of red hunters indefinitely," she said. "I think I would like to be taken south."
"What you like is of no interest." I said.
"I know," she said.
"If I were to be taken south," she said, "would I be sold there?"
"Doubtless," I said.
"Publicly?" she asked.
"Presumably," I said.
"Naked?" she asked.
"You might wear chains," I said. "I do not know."
"Only a fool buys a woman clothed," she said.
"That is a Gorean saying," I said.
"Imnak taught it to me," she laughed.
"Surely you see the sense of it?" I asked.
"Of course," she said, "if I were a man I would buy a woman only if she were naked. I would want to see what I was getting, completely."