She looked at me. "Now you have made me speak to you as though I might be a slave," she chided.
I did not speak.
"Your joke has gone far enough," she said, uncertainly, "now, please, please, let me rise, and take off my collar and bring me clothes."
I did not move. She remained on her knees.
"You cannot be serious about keeping me as a slave," she said.
I did not speak.
"You did not keep me as a slave before," she said.
"No," I said.
"See!" she laughed.
"I have no intention of repeating that mistake," I said.
"You cannot keep me as a slave!" she cried.
"Why not?" I asked.
"Because I am a woman of Earth, and you are a man of Earth!" she said.
"Men of Earth have often held women of Earth as slaves," I said. "Surely you are aware of this. Historically, slavery has been one of the most widespread and successful of human institutions. Most of the admired civilizations of the past have, in effect, been founded on slavery. Even today, on Earth, slavery is openly practiced in many parts of the world, and, in other parts of the world, it is known that there are men who keep their women secretly as slaves. Seeing a woman on the street it is often difficult to know whether, in the secrecy of her house, she is a slave or not. Too, who knows what will be the future course of civilizations on Earth. It is not impossible that slavery may again become a widespread and significant component in social fabrics, even in those of technological societies. The future is hard to read."
"Then the fact that I am a woman of Earth and you are a man of Earth need not protect me," she said.
"Of course not," I said, "no more than it has protected other women of Earth who, over the long ages, have found themselves placed in bondage."
"I see," she said.
"Incidentally," I said, "I reject not only your contention as being false, and obviously false, but its supposition, as well."
"Its supposition?" she asked.
"That I am a man of Earth, and you a woman of Earth," I said.
"Surely we are of Earth!" she said.
"It is true that our planet of origin is Earth," I said. "Is that all you have in mind?"
"No," she said.
"What else?" I asked.
"I do not know," she said. "It is hard to speak to you when I am stripped and kneeling!"
"Our realities have now changed," I said. "We are now of Gor."
"No!" she said.
"You lost the entitlements and prerogatives of the woman of Earth when, in a Gorean slave pen, your lovely thigh was branded."
"Please do not speak so explicitly of my body," she said.
"I shall do as I please," I said.
She put her head down, not responding.
"You were then only a girl of Gor, and a slave," I said.
She looked up, angrily. "And I seem to recall," I said, "that on the Street of the Writhing Slave, you cried out, confessing to me, that she in my arms was now naught but a Gorean slave girl."
She looked at me, angrily. She bit her lip.
"And, as I recall," I said, "she cried herself mine."
She looked at me, in fury.
"Have you forgotten?" I asked.
"No," she said. I was pleased to see that she was too shrewd to lie to me.
"But however you are pleased to view these matters," I said, "it makes little difference to me, whether we think of ourselves as being of Earth or Gor." I looked at her, naked before me. I fingered the slave whip. "Our realities, in either case," I pointed out, "remain much as they are."
"As an Earth man could own an Earth woman, you could own me on Gor?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"May I get to my feet?" she asked.
"No," I told her.
"You cannot own me!" she cried.
I did not deign to respond to so foolish an assertion. Did she not know that she was a branded, collared Gorean slave girl?
"Oh, I know you could own me," she laughed, uneasily, "but I know that you will not choose to own me."
"Why not?" I asked.
"You knew me from Earth," she said.
"That will make the owning of you all the more delicious," I said.
"'Delicious'?" she said.
"Yes, 'delicious'," I said, "my beauty."
" _Your_ beauty? " she asked.
"Yes," I said, " _my_ beauty. "
"You speak of me as though I were a slave," she said, resentfully.
"You are a slave," I told her.
"But you will free me!" she cried.
"If that were my intention," I said, "it seems strange that I have just put my collar on you."
"But that was surely a joke, a cruel jest," she said.
"Feel the collar," I said.
She lifted her hands to the collar.
"Is it heavy or uncomfortable?" I asked.
"No," she said.
"It is a woman's collar," I said. "But it is close-fitting, of inflexible steel, and securely locked."
"Yes," she said.
"You have worn such collars before, have you not?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
"You are familiar with them, and their effectiveness?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
"Have I offered to remove it from you?" I asked.
"No," she said.
"Can you remove it?" I asked.
She looked at me.
"Try," I said.
Pathetically she struggled with the collar. Then, after a moment, she ceased her useless struggles. "No," she said, her fingers still hooked within the locked, obdurate band, "I cannot remove it."
"You may then fairly assume," I suggested, "that it has been fastened upon you."
"I know it has been fastened upon me," she cried. "I cannot get it off!"
"What sort of collar is it?" I asked.
"A slave collar!" she cried.
"Precisely," I said.
"Is it not a joke?" she whimpered.
"No," I said.
She looked at me, frightened.
"I am beginning to grow impatient with you," I said. "Perhaps you should be lashed."
She shrank back. "But you have brought me to our house," she said.
"Not our house," I said, "_my_ house."
"You would keep me as a slave in the very house where once I was free?" she asked.
"Yes," I said. "But I have made certain improvements, bars and certain security devices, for example. Also, I have put in a new and stouter kennel for you and a new slave ring at the foot of my couch."
She looked at me, aghast.
"It is my hope that you will like them," I said.
"What sort of man are you?" she asked.
"One who will own you, fully," I told her.
"Then I am to understand," she said, "that it is possible that you might, in all seriousness, choose to keep me as your slave?"
"The choice is already made," I said. "It was made long ago."
"And what did you choose?" she asked.
"Are you stupid?" I asked.
"I am not stupid," she said.
"You speak as though you are stupid," I said. I wondered if, truly, she was stupid. If so, it would lower her value, considerably. I was growing weary of her fencings, her inanities, her protests. Did she think she was a free woman? Perhaps she must soon be reminded that she was a slave. That could be easily done.
"This is Gor," she said. "The choice, of course, is yours, totally." She looked at me, angrily. "What did you choose for me?"
"What do you think?" I asked.
"Freedom," she said, "respect, honor, dignity."
"No," I said.
"— Slavery?" she asked.
"Yes, I said.
"— Full slavery?" she asked.
"Yes," I told her, "total and complete slavery."
"I see that you must be taught the character and will, and the intelligence and power, of a woman of Earth," she said. She rose to her feet. "Take this collar off my neck, fellow," she said. "Do it now!"
I looked at her.
"I am calling your bluff," she said, "-Jason." Then suddenly she screamed, struck by the Gorean slave lash, her body stripped, stumbling across the room, striking against the wall, at whose foot she fell. She looked up at me, in terror, from the foot of the wall.