"Ohh," she said, softly, "Master is beautiful."
"I cannot be beautiful," I said, rather irritatedly. "I am a man. I might be good-looking, or handsome, perhaps, but I cannot be beautiful. And even such things, I suspect, would be rather controversial."
"To me," she said, "you are lean, and strong and beautiful."
I looked at her, angrily.
"And you own me," she smiled.
"That, at least, is uncontroversial," I said.
"Shall I heel my Master to his bedroom," she asked, "or does he desire that I precede him?"
"I shall carry you," I said.
"As Master wishes," she said, breathlessly.
I put my hands on her.
"Oh!" she said.
I then rubbed my fingers and smelled my hand. "Slaves, too, it seems," I said, "sometimes find it difficult to conceal their desire."
"Yes, Master," she laughed.
"Oh!" she said. "You are going to carry me like this," she asked, "upside down and in front of you?"
"Yes," I said, "and as I ascend the stairs slowly, you will please me."
"Yes, Master," she laughed.
At the top of the stairs I stopped, and shuddered, and cried out.
"Perhaps I should have gagged Master," she said.
I then carried her, over my shoulder, into the bedroom, to throw her to the foot of my couch, beneath the slave ring.
Chapter 21 — THE SLAVE RING; THE WHIP IS KISSED; BLACK WINE; A SLAVE IS NAMED; ECSTASY
How small and soft she was, and how beautiful, lying in my arms, on the furs of love, at the foot of my couch, in the soft light of the ravishment lamp.
About her throat, over the slender, identificatory collar, a heavy, thick iron collar had been locked, with a heavy chain, leading to the stout loop of the slave ring, some eight inches in width, fixed in the foot of the couch.
"I am so happy, my Master," she said. "I am so happy:"
Her first taking had been on the floor of the bedroom, she still locked in the body chain. I had then relieved her of its restraint, that the evening might properly begin.
With her own hands I had forced her to spread the furs of love and light the ravishment lamp. I had then had her kneel at the foot of the couch, and had chained her by the neck to the slave ring. I had then had her kiss the whip. I had then again taken her.
Before this last having of her she had lain on her back on the furs crying out with joy, feeling the heavy collar on her throat, and the weight of the chain that fastened her by the collar to the slave ring. "I cannot slip it," she had said, trying to force the collar from her. "No," I had said. "The chain is so heavy!" she had purred. "It will hold you well," I had told her. Then she had risen to her hands and knees. She had reached out and touched the slave ring with her right hand, and then she had crawled to it, and kissed it. She had then turned to face me, on all fours, the chain dangling down from her collar. "I love being chained to your slave ring," she had said. I had then drawn her towards me and thrown her on her back. "Yes, Master," she had whimpered, eagerly throwing her legs apart.
"I am so happy," she whispered, lying in my arms. "I had never dreamed I could be so happy."
I thrust the whip again to her mouth and, tenderly, softly, holding it to her lips, she covered it with kisses.
"You enjoy kissing the whip, don't you?" I asked.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"You know well what its lash can do to your softness, do you not?" I asked.
"Yes, Master," she smiled.
"And yet you kiss it lovingly," I said.
"Yes, my Master," she said.
"Why?" I asked.
"I do not know," she said. "Perhaps it is a symbol, plain to my vulnerable womanhood, of your manhood, which makes me such a yielding slave. Perhaps it is a symbol of your dominance over me."
"Does it seem to you that you are kissing a symbol?" I said.
"Perhaps on some level it seems so," she said, "but I experience it rather differently. It is, you see, a real whip, and one that can be used on me. Thus it seems to me that what I am really doing is kissing a whip; your whip. The whip, in itself, is not a symbol. It is a real whip. It may, of course, have symbolic significance."
"Kissing the whip is for you," I said, "apparently a rich sexual, and emotional, experience."
"Yes, Master," she said. "And even if you were a hated master, it would still, for us slaves, be such an experience."
"Even if the master were a hated one?" I asked.
"Yes," she said. "On one level we might hate to kneel before him and kiss his whip, but on another level we would be thrilled that he had made us do so. He would be showing us that we are women. Master, perhaps, being a man, cannot fully understand, or understand in its total fullness, what it is for a woman to kneel naked before a man and be forced to kiss his whip. It is, I assure you, a very meaningful experience, and one which she understands in every bit of her body. Indeed, after having kissed a man's whip it is very difficult to continue to hate him, even if he wishes us to do so, enjoying perhaps the humiliation and taming of a woman who hates him. Rather, as slaves, now taught by our master, we find ourselves, almost against our wills, considering how we might perhaps better serve and please him."
"I see," I said.
"All women want to be owned by a man strong enough to make her kiss his whip," she said "What woman would want to be owned by a man of any other sort?"
I said nothing.
"You will be strong with me, will you not?" she asked. "You will make me do, and be, uncompromisingly, and as a slave, what you want, will you not?"
"Yes," I said.
"Then I kiss your whip," she said, "and love it."
"You enjoy being a slave?" I asked.
"I am a slave," she said, "and I love it."
"You know that you cannot change your mind on this matter," I said, "and that there is no escape for you on Gor."
"I know it well, Master," she said. "On this world; the law even, as I am a slave, in all its force, puts me in your total power."
"In the total power of any Master," I said, "to whom you might legally belong."
"Yes, Master," she shuddered. "But it is my hope that you will be kind to me."
"I shall see if you serve well," I said.
"I shall serve well," she said. "I think that yon will find that the girl you knew on Earth, now collared on Gor, will supply you with wonders of service."
"Serve me now," I said.
"Immediately, and in any way Master wishes," she said.
She lay on her stomach, on her elbows beside me. I lay on my back, looking up at the ceiling.
"Several collars were removed tonight," she said, "those of Shirley, of Lola and Peggy."
"To be replaced with other collars shortly," I said.
"My collar was not removed," she said. "You kept me."
"Yes," I said.
"I think you like me," she said. "You could have taken me to the market and sold me. You could do that easily. You are a Gorean master. But you did not do so. I think that perhaps you like me."
"Perhaps," I said.
"That will not endanger our relationship, do you think?" she asked.
"I do not think so," I smiled.
"You are rich, aren't you?" she asked.
"As Goreans go," I said. "I think, Yes."