"Say," I said, "'I will never again deny my sexual needs. "
"I will never again deny my sexual needs," she said.
"Say," I said, "'I will be such and behave in such a way as to attempt to secure the satisfaction of my deepest and most honest sexual needs. "
"I will be such and behave in such a way," she said, "as to attempt to secure the satisfaction of my deepest and most honest sexual needs." She looked at me. "Even though they might be those of a slave?" she asked.
"Even though they might be those of a slave," I said.
"Even though they might be those of a slave," she said.
"Even though they are those of a slave," I said.
"Even though they are those of a slave," she repeated.
"Say now," I said, "'I am a slave. I am your slave, Master. "
"I am a slave. I am your slave, Master," she said. She looked at me. "I cannot believe how I feel," she said. "I am so incredibly happy, Master."
I nodded. I sensed then that the locks on the dungeon door had been opened, that the bolts had been slid back.
Then she put down her head. "I am a girl in need," she said, "I beg the touch of my master."
"Look at me," I said. "And speak clearly."
She lifted her head. "I am a girl in need," she said, boldly. "I beg the touch of my master."
I smiled, and she reddened. She had now, at last, explicitly begged for my touch.
The hands of the small, naked slave girl hidden in the dungeon, crouching on the damp, narrow, stone stairs, pressed upward against the iron door which had been bolted shut above her. It moved a quarter of an inch upward, and did not strike against its familiar bolts. The bolts had been withdrawn. She trembled and sobbed, fearing to be the victim of some cruel trick. She thrust harder against the iron door above her. An inch of light, narrow and straight, almost blinded her. She put down her head. Then again she thrust upward against the weight. She sobbed in misery. Her small strength might not be sufficient to lift the door, to thrust it back. She struggled. Then, slowly, inch by inch, she pressing upward, the door began to open; she could feel the stone of the stairs hard under her bare feet; her muscles ached; there was a heavy sound from the protesting, thick hinges; she cried out, thrusting upward; the door then, suddenly, opened, suddenly swinging back, falling away from her; there was a clang of iron on stone. Fearing to move, blinded by the sunlight, she knelt trembling on the stairs. She did not lift her head above the level of the opened door. Perhaps she feared that her mistress, Janice Prentiss, would come and whip her and put her back in the dungeon. But did not her mistress know that it was she herself who was the lovely, frightened slave? Did she not know that it would be only she herself who would feel the blows of such a whip, or she herself who would see again the iron door of the dungeon close above her head?
The blond-haired barbarian, my tethered slave, looked at me, and smiled. "I am ready to please you, in any way that you might see fit, Master," she said.
I reclined on one elbow, watching her.
"Command me," she said.
"I do not," I said.
"Master?" she asked.
"If you desire to please me," I said, "you may do so. I accord you my permission."
"But I am an Earth woman," she said. "Are you not going to order me?"
"No," I said.
"Surely you do not expect me, an Earth woman, to please a man, I mean really please him, of my own free will?" she asked.
I smiled. "It is a startling thought," I admitted.
She smiled.
"Do you want to please me?" I asked.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"You may then do so, if you wish," I said.
"But I am a slave," she said.
"Yes," I said.
"But are slaves not commanded?" she asked.
"Not always," I said.
"It is strange," she said. "I never thought that in all my life I would kneel before a man and tell him that I was ready to please him in any way he saw fit. Now I have done so, and he does not command me."
"Perhaps, if you wish," I said, "you might please me in some way that you see fit."
"But I am a slave," she said.
"Precisely," I said.
"You know, don't you," she asked, "that I want to please you as a slave?"
"Of course," I said. "That is natural. You are a slave."
"Command me," she begged.
"No," I said.
"But I am an Earth woman," she said.
"Not really any longer," I said. "You are now a Gorean slave girl."
"Yes, Master," she said. She rose lightly to her feet. She lifted the tether away from the slave stake. The tether, knotted on her throat, fastened at the other end to the slave stake, was about seven feet in length.
I watched her.
"I have sexual needs," she said. "And I want to please my master."
I shrugged.
She looked down at the slave stake. "I note that this night," she said, "you did not fasten me to a small tree, as to a slave post, but that you prepared a slave stake." She then lifted the tether. "I note, too, Master," she said, "that this tether is somewhat longer than would be needful to secure a miserable slave."
"You are a highly intelligent woman," I said. 'That makes it all the more pleasant to own you."
"You knew what I would want to do, didn't you? she asked.
"Of course," I said.
Suddenly she put her head in her hands, sobbing. "I dare not," she wept. "I dare not! Command me! Command me!"
"No," I said. I did not hurry her.
In time she took her hands from her face, and wiped away her tears. "Tie me for the night," she begged.
"Very well," I said.
"No," she said. "No!"
"Very well," I said.
She straightened herself. She smiled. Her eyes were moist "What I am now going to do," she said. "I do fully and completely of my own free will. I have sexual needs. I shall exhibit the desperation of these needs before my master, in the hope that he will take pity on me and satisfy them. It is also a girl's hope that in what she does her master will not find her fully displeasing."
She then, gently, removed the bark skirt from her hips and dropped it to the side.
She then flexed her knees and lifted her hands, the backs of the wrists facing one another, gracefully over her head.
"Wait," I said.
"Master?" she asked.
"Have you begged to perform?" I asked.
"No, Master," she said.
"You may now do so," I said.
"I beg to perform before my master," she said.
"Very well," I mid. "You may do so."
"Thank you, Master," she said.
She then danced before me, of her own free will, a girl in need, and one desiring to please her master.
Her dance grew ever more desperate and, at times, I had to throw her from me.
Then she lay at the slave stake. She held out a hand to me.
I went to her and seized her by the upper arms and threw her to her feet She looked at me, frightened.
"You did not do badly, Slave Girl," I said. "But now it is time for you to learn how to truly dance before a man."
"Master!" she cried in misery.
"Be as you were," I told her.
Immediately, frightened, she stood again before me, knees flexed, hands raised above her head, gracefully, the backs of her wrists facing one another, in one of the attitudes of the slave dancer.
I jerked the tether on her throat. "This is a tether," I said. "It is to be well incorporated in your dance. You are a tethered slave. Do not forget it. You may fight the tether, you may love it. It may confine your body, you may use it to caress your body, an invitation to your master, a surrogate symbol of his domination of you. You need not dance always on your feet. A woman can dance beautifully on her knees. moving as little as a hand, or on her back, or belly or side. In all things do not forget that you are a slave."