She tried to pull back. "You do not handle me like a man of Earth," she whispered.
"I am not a man of Earth," I told her. "I am Gorean."
I then pressed her back to the stones.
"What are you doing?" she cried.
"I have been patient," I told her. "I have waited a long time for you."
She squirmed. Her strength was as nothing, compared to mine. I brushed the flattish bell and the coin box over her left shoulder, and to the side of her neck. I heard the bell, and the coin, my coin, in the small, narrow metal box on her neck chain.
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
"I am now tired of waiting," I told her.
"Then, you will truly have me?" she asked.
"Of course," I told her.
"But with dignity, and respect!" she begged.
"I have waited too long for that," I told her.
She struggled, unavailingly.
"Be gentle, solicitous and tender!" she begged.
"No," I told her.
"No?" she asked.
"No," I said.
"Oh!" she cried.
"When I finish with you," I said, "you will not have any doubts, as you might with a man of Earth, as to whether or not you have been had."
"Oh!" she cried.
"You will know," I assured her.
"This cannot be you," she wept. "It cannot be you!"
"It is," I told her.
"What are you doing?" she cried.
"Treating you as the slave you are," I told her.
"But I am a woman of Earth!" she cried.
"No," I told her, "you are only a leashed slut, a rightless Gorean slave girl, who is soon to learn something of the meaning of her collar."
"Yes, Master!" she cried, suddenly, helplessly.
"Do you admit that you are a slave?" I asked.
"Do not ask me, a woman of Earth, to admit to a man of Earth that I am a slave!" she begged. "It would be too shameful!"
"You would admit it swiftly enough to the brutes of Gor, would you not?" I asked.
"Yes, Master," she wept. "Yes, Master!"
"Admit it then to me," I said, "for now you are no longer a woman of Earth, nor am I now any longer a man of Earth.
"I am a slave, Master," she said. "I admit it." I recalled then the time that we had dined in the small restaurant on Earth, so long ago. Her hair had been bound back in a severe bun. She had worn an off-the-shoulder, svelte, white satin sheath dress. She had carried a small, silver-beaded purse. She was now in my arms, sweating, naked and leashed. "I am a slave, Master," she said. "I have always known it."
"Now you speak the truth," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Do you now feel shamed, that you have made this confession?" I asked.
She looked up at me, startled. "No," she said.
"How do you feel?" I asked.
"It is strange," she said. "I feel exalted, glorious. It is strange. It is as though I had come home to myself."
"The only true liberation," I said, "is to become what one truly is."
"Oh!" she cried.
"Does a slave object to being treated as a slave?" I asked.
"No, Master," she said. "I regret only that I never admitted my slavery on Earth."
"There would have been little point," I said. "There are few masters on Earth."
"There is no dearth of masters on Gor," she said.
"No," I smiled.
She shuddered in my arms. "I admit to you that I belong in a collar," she whispered.
"It is true," I said.
"I long to be taught its meaning," she said.
"You will be," I assured her.
"Teach me my collar," she begged. "Make me the slave I long to be."
"I shall," I said.
"Linda is now ready to serve her master," she said. "Master," she said, "what is wrong?"
I looked down at her, locked as a hot, leashed slave in my arms. "I shall have you under the name of 'Beverly'," I said.
"That was my name on Earth, long ago, when I was free," she said.
"I put it on you now, for my use of you, as a slave name," I told her.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"You were once of Earth, were you not?" I asked.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Are you now of Earth?" I asked.
"No, Master," she said.
"Of where are you now?" I asked.
"Gor, Master," she said.
"Once you were a free woman, were you not?" I asked.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Are you now free?" I asked.
"No, Master," she said. "Please, Master!"
"What are you now?" I asked.
"I am now naught but a Gorean slave girl!" she wept. "Please, Master!"
"What is your name," I asked.
"Beverly," she said. "My name is 'Beverly'. That is the name which my master has seen fit to put upon me."
"It is a pretty name," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said. "Thank you, Master. Please, Master!"
"You appear to be sexually aroused, Beverly," I said.
"I am, my Master," she said. "Please, please!"
"Speak, Slave," I said.
"Beverly begs to serve her master," she said.
I then took her, and, in moments, in helpless spasms, sobbing, in joy, she cried out her slave's submission to me. "I am now naught but a Gorean slave gir1! I am now naught but a Gorean slave girl!" she cried. "And I am yours, my Master! I am yours! I am yours!"
The girl who had held the leash of the girl whom I had just enjoyed, having now returned, removed her hand from the docile, supine slave's body. She tasted, and smelled, her fingers. "I see that you have earned your tarsk bit," she said.
"Yes, Mistress," said the girl, happily.
The girl who was the Coin Girl's leash holder then bent to untie the leash from the slave ring.
"Please, Mistress," begged the girl whom I had just enjoyed, scrambling to her knees and putting her head to the feet of the other girl, "do not yet untie my leash!"
"It is well past the nineteenth Ahn," said the girl who was apparently the new girl's slave supervisor and trainer, "But the pleasures of the master are not to be interfered with," said the kneeling slave. "That I was told in the house!"
Then, on her knees, she turned and looked pleadingly at me. I took out another tarsk bit, and held it out. The girl came then near to me, and leaned forward, that I might, from my reclining position, be able to reach the coin box chained on her neck. I put in another tarsk bit. The kneeling girl then turned and looked, pleadingly, at the girl under whose orders she was.
"Very well," said the girl who was standing, looking down upon the kneeling slave. "I shall wait up the street." Then she looked at me. "When you are through with her," she said, "send her to me."
"Very well," I said.
Beverly knelt happily beside me, and I lay back, on my back, on the tunic, on the stones of the street. I felt her small hands, lovingly, timidly, touching me about the shoulders and chest. "I did not know you could be like this," she said. "I have never seen you before like this."
"A woman looks differently at a man when she is a slave," I said.
"Yes, Master," she smiled. "What must you think of me?" she asked, ruefully.
"I do not understand," I said.
"How I behaved, how I acted," she said.
"I do not understand," I said.
"How can you respect me?" she asked.
"I do not," I said.
"You do not respect me?" she asked.
"No," I said, "of course not, for you are a slave."
"Yes, Master," she smiled. She kissed me, softly, on the right shoulder. Then she knelt back, on her heels, beside me. Her knees were spread, in the position of the pleasure slave. "You think little of slaves, don't you?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"Then you must think little of me?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"Am I good?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.