"It is my intention," he said, "at least for a time, to keep you as a slave if you endeavor to prove satisfactory."
"As an imbonded girl," I said, "I shall, of course, endeavor to prove satisfactory."
He smiled.
"Never let me go again," I wept, suddenly. "Keep me forever!"
He looked at me.
Swiftly I spread my knees further apart. I did not wish to be whipped.
"You smell like an aroused slave," he commented.
"I am an aroused slave!" I wept.
"Are you not a highly intelligent modern woman?" he inquired. "I beg permission to kiss the feet of my master," I said.
"You have come a long way from your library, librarian," he said.
I looked up at him, tears in my eyes.
"They have put slave fires in your belly, haven" t they?" he asked. "Yes, Master," I said.
"How cruel of them," he said.
I squirmed helplessly.
"Perhaps a girl wishes to serve her master?" he asked.
"Yes, Master!" I said. "Yes, Master! Please, Master!"
He then went behind me and untied my ankles. He then put his hands gently on my flanks, and waist, and body, and I pressed back against him, sobbing, my eyes closed, moaning, begging to be touched. Then he whipped loose the fiber on my wrists and, rolling it and putting it in his pouch, went to stand before me. I put my head down and began to lick and kiss his feet, sobbing.
"Yes, you are obviously a highly intelligent woman," he said. "You do that very well."
I sobbed.
"You look well, modern woman," he said, "at my feet."
"Please, Master," I begged. "I am not a modern woman. There is nothing left in me of the modern woman, really, as you of all men, must know and recognize, even if ever there was anything of that sort in me to begin with! I am now only a Gorean slave girl at the feet of her master!"
"And what is the name of your master?" he inquired.
"My master is Teibar," I said.
"And of what city is he?" he asked.
"I do not know, Master," I said.
"He is of Ar," he said.
"Yes, Master," I said.
"Whose slave are you, then?" he asked.
"I am the slave of Teibar of Ar," I said. This was the first time I had ever spoken these words. I was thrilled to speak them. They gave the name and city of my master. If a guardsman or any free person, or even a male slave, or a female slave in a position of authority, were to inquire as to the identity of my master, that was the information that I would be expected to give them. To be sure, such things may be read on collars. At this time, however, I still wore the collar of Ionicus. The recovery period, germane to that collar, expired at midnight tonight. Sword claim, however, if uncontested, took priority. I knew little of Ar, but I did not it was a large and powerful city.
"You are lovely, slave of Teibar of Ar," he said, looking down at me. "Thank you, Master," I said.
"I think," he said, looking down at me, "that indeed, truly, there is little of the modern woman left in you."
"There is nothing of that hateful tragedy of that barreness and lovelessness, left in me, Master," I said, "if ever there was anything of it in me to begin with. And I love you. I love you! I love you!"
"Interesting," he said.
"Do not whip me, Master," I said. "I beg you, but I do love you, and from the depths of my heart! I have loved you and wanted to please you, and be yours, from the first moment I saw you!"
He looked at me.
"Forgive me, Master," I said. I seized up the slave whip and handed it to him. "Let an unimportant slave be whipped!"
But he only held the whip to my lips and I kissed it, fervently, gratefully, and then looked up at him.
He looked at me, and I squirmed in need.
He touched the whip to my shoulder and I moaned, and put my head to the side, and kissed it.
"You seem to be in need," he said.
"Yes, Master!" I said.
"Do you wish to serve your master?" he said.
"Yes, Master!" I said.
"Perhaps I shall permit you to do so," he said.
"Thank you, Master!" I said. He was the most exciting man I had ever known. His least touch made me want to cry out with passion and surrender myself, totally. "You may do so," he said.
"Thank you, Master!" I breathed, looking up at him, with tears in my eyes. I was more than eager to serve him o a thousand intimate and delicious modalities. I would try to be more marvelous than the most marvelous slave he might ever dreamt of. "Command me, Master!"
"But first," he said, "as it is still light, we are going for a short walk. You will be taken on a leash. We will then return to the camp."
"Yes, Master," I said, puzzled.
In a few minutes we had returned to the camp, I on my leash. Though he had waited for me, once, to relieve myself, I do not think that that was the purpose of the walk. That I could have done anywhere outside the camp, chained to a tree, if necessary. We had gone down by the long building, beyond the well, in the meadow, where the beasts lay. He unsnapped the leash and I knelt before him, then, waiting to be commanded.
"Yes, Master," I said, eagerly.
"Cook," he said.
33 Dust
I knelt down, across from the fire from him, in our small camp in the woods, not far from the meadow. It was dark now. There was a space of some fifty feet of cleared ground behind him. Closer to me there were some trees and brush. I was naked. He had not given me clothing, even the belt of rolled cloth and the slave strip, which he had earlier removed, when I had been bound, after the departure of Mirus and Tupita, they with the tharlarion and wagon.
"Is the camp in order? Is your work finished?" he asked.
"Yes, Master," I said. I had tried to do my best to cook well for him. I hoped he had not been dissatisfied. He had eaten in silence, but well. I hoped I had not done too badly. I had not been whipped. The whip is a very tangible symbol of the relationship between the master and the slave, and if the master is not satisfied, it can quickly become, as the slave knows well, more than a symbol. After he had begun to eat he had given me a piece of bread, thrusting it in my mouth as I was, by his command, on all fours near him. After that he had, from time to time, thrown me scraps, tossing them to the crushed leaves. These I must eat without the use of my hands.
As a female I looked across at him, such a master. To no weaker man would I have cared to belong. He would command; I would obey. I was his.
"Perhaps Master will not bind his slave," I said.
He regarded me.
I could not deny that I loved bonds, both of a physical and social sort, those tangible evidences of my womanhood, and my place in nature. He might bind me, I supposed, merely to secure me for the night. On the other hand, I hoped that he might now bind me not for the night but rather for the evening, either in such a way as merely to make clear to me that I was a slave, little more than a symbolic binding, or even in such a way that I should be utterly helpless to resist his attentions, whatever they might be.
"You are a woman made for bonds," he said.
But he made no move to secure a neck chain, or physical bonds of any sort, not did he order me to fetch such, hurrying to him, say, with chains, responsive to his command, that would be placed on my own body.
"And love, Master," I said, boldly. "And love!"