"Yes, you did well," said Mirus, almost a growl.
"Forgive me, Master!" I said.
I was then, helpless in his angry grasp, put to his pleasure. It was only when he was done with me, so abruptly, and I looked up into his eyes that I saw them, to my relief, cleared of anger. It had not been necessary to slay me. The thing was done now. Mirus was now again himself, the Mirus I remembered from Brundisium. The debt, if debt it were, on some deep level, had been paid. Once again I was only another slave.
"You may touch me," he said.
"Yes, Master," I whispered.
Once again, later, he put me to his use.
"Did she serve well?" called Tupita.
"Yes," said Mirus. "She served well."
I was relieved to hear his asservation. I did not doubt but what Tupita, love me thought she might, would as first girl have put me well and helplessly under the whip if he had not been satisfied.
Mirus looked down at me. "And in the end," he asked, "who is master, who is slave?"
"You are the master," I said. "I am the slave."
"And who is victorious?" he asked.
"You are, Master," I said, "and totally, and I am nothing." I did not tell him that, we were both victorious, that he was victorious in his victory, and I, a woman, was victorious in my utter defeat.
"Please, Master," I begged, "touch me more." Mirus was a master in the handling of women. He well knew how to subdue us, and make us beg for further subjugation.
"There is another whom I would touch," he said. "You may crawl back to the fire."
Head down, still muchly aroused, I crawled back to the fire. He followed me and began to untie Tupita. "Is Tuka not beautiful?" asked Tupita. "Yes," he said, "but you are a thousand times more beautiful." I did not think that was really true. Certainly at any rate not a thousand times! "I love you, Master!" she exclaimed, being unbound. "Perhaps you care for me, a little?" "Yes," he smiled, "a little." "A slave is pleased," she said. She knelt on the backs of her heels, her hands on her thighs, looking up, happily, at Mirus. "Kneel higher," he said, "off your heels." "Master?" she asked. This had brought her into suitable cuffing position. "Did you not speak at various times during the evening," he asked, "without having requested permission?" "Yes, Master," she said. "Forgive me, Master." She then was flung to the side, cuffed, and lay on the dirt, to the side. "Return to your former position," he said.
She returned, apprehensively, to the high kneeling position, before him. The left side of her face was a flaming red. He then took up the slave whip which was there, where I had dropped it before him, earlier, and looped it about her neck. He then, by this means, pulled her up straighter, and holding her head up, looked down into her eyes. "Did you think that in my love for you," he asked, "I would cease to be your master?"
"No, Master," she said, happily, looking up at him.
Even in the greatness of his love for her he would not cease to be her master. Indeed, had he done so, how could she have loved him so much?
He then cast aside the whip and lifted her gently in his arms, and carried her back into the shadows, away from the fire.
I was on all fours, by the fire. I looked to the stranger. I was still muchly aroused.
"Get dressed," he said.
In chagrin I found my "garments," the slave strip and belt. I knelt back, and put them on.
"On all fours," he said, "return to the slave wagon."
I looked at him in protest, but did as I was bade. I crawled across the ground to the slave wagon, and up the steps. I paused at the threshold. "May I speak?" I asked.
"No," he said.
I then entered the slave wagon. The door was shut behind me. Inside, in the darkness, I turned and knelt by the door, putting my fingers against it. I heard the door being locked, and then heard his steps descending the stairs. I had apparently served my purpose for the evening! I had now been "kenneled," he had not even permitted me to speak! He treated me as a slave! Then I drew back from the door, and found a bit of bread in the pan. I also felt a slice of raw vegetable. I ate these, and then took some water. I then relieved myself at the bucket in the other part of the wagon, and then lay down in the center of the wagon, on the blankets. The wagon was dark, and a firm prison, but it was not uncomfortable.
I awakened once in the middle of the night. He had treated me as a slave! But then, of course, that was what I was. I was a slave. Then I returned to sleep.
32 The Camp
"You are dressed suitably as a slave," he said.
"Yes, Master," I said. I was in the belt and cloth. On my neck was still the collar of Ionicus. I knelt in the camp, at his feet. I was tied much as Fulvius had tied me earlier, and as he had tied Tupita last night, wrists crossed and bound behind me, fastened closely to my crossed, bound ankles.
He then looked after the slave wagon. I could not see it now, but I could hear it, in the distance, descending toward the road. I could see the narrow print of its wheels in the leaves. A moment or two ago, drawn by its tharlarion, it had left camp. Mirus had been on the wagon box, Tupita beside him, in a tunic fashioned of one of the blankets which had been inside the wagon. My eyes were still moist from their departure. Tupita, her hands braceleted behind her, had knelt and kissed me. "I wish you well, Tuka," she had said. "I wish you well, too, Tupita," I had said. Mirus had then crouched near me and kissed me. "I wish you well, slave," he had said. "I wish you well, Master," I had said. They had then left. Tupita and I could not wave to one another as our restraints did not permit it, but we exchanged a common slave girls" farewell, kissing one another, tears in our eyes. Most of the coins and valuables which had fallen to the stranger as sword loot he had divided with Mirus. The wagon and tharlarion, too, would surely have value. Such things should give Mirus more than enough means to make Brundisium. Too, it was good for Mirus to have the wagon, at least for a few days, until his strength might be fully recovered. "They are gone now," he said. The wagon, then, I gathered, must be out of sight, even from his vantage, standing. Doubtless it would soon be on the road.
There was a soft wind, rustling the leaves.
I looked up at him. we were alone.
He reached to his mask. He removed it. Sempronius and Callisthenes had left three days ago. Mirus and Tupita had now gone. None of these, I supposed, would be able to recognize him again, unless perhaps by his skill with the sword. He had concealed his features, and his identity. It would be difficult for anyone, in the future, if they were so inclined, to connect him with the transactions in the meadow. To be sure, he might be a simple brigand. If so, he was an extremely dangerous one.
He looked down at me, the mask in his hand. "Perhaps you remember," he said, "that I once told you that there was a world where woman like you were bought and sold."
"Yes, Master," I said. He had spoken in English. It had taken me a moment, a frightened moment, to realize that. then I had made the transition from Gorean to English.
"And have you been bought and sold?" he asked.
"Yes, Master," I said.
"And how is my modern woman," he asked.
"Only as much is left in me of the modern woman as you might wish," I said, "only as much as you might wish to recollect, and then, if it pleases you, to humble or hurt me."
He smiled. "I see that you have learned to be concerned to please men," he said. "Yes, Master," I said.
"You look well, tied helplessly," he said.
"Thank you, Master," I said.
"Have you been taught much on Gor?" he asked.
"Yes, Master," I said.
"And have you been taught to throw your legs apart quickly?" he asked. "Yes, Master," I said.
"You danced well last night," he said.
"Thank you, Master," I said. I was so pleased that he was pleased!
"What do you call that sort of dance?" he asked.
"Slave dance," I said, in Gorean.