"If you doubt that you are slaves, examine your thighs and Consider your collared necks."
"We looked at one another. We were not in doubt that we were slaves.
The only question now is whether you will be adequate or adequate slaves," he said. "This question, now that you are slaves, is basically a question of whether you will choose live or choose to die. That is your basic question. I suggest you face it. Each of you must make your own choice. I allow you against one mistake, One common to stupid or uninformed girls. That is the mistake of thinking that you can escape the full implications of your position by merely adopting what you think is slave behavior. That is not true.
Authentic slave behavior is motivated from within, and is the natural manifestation of the yielded slave herself. The will and consciousness within is that of a slave. This, then, issues in authentic slave behavior. There are many ways, responses to physical and psychological tests, and subtle behavioral cues, to tell if slave behavior is authentic or not. The choice, thus, is, in effect, one of whether you choose to become a total slave, surrendered and obedient, in your mind as well as your behavior, or die."
"And this cut," said the woman, herself a slave, though permitted a brief tunic, "is called the slave flame. See how it comes down the back, swirling." She illustrated this with a kneeling girl whose hair had been cut, trimmed and shaped in this fashion. "This," she said, moving to the next girl, "is an upswept fashion. It appears sophisticated. It is a hair-do favored by some free women, but it is not outlawed for slaves.
Its pretentiousness, suggesting superciliousness and arrogance, contrasts nicely with the actual reality of the slave. The girl who wears this must watch her step, lest the master grow impatient with her. If you are permitted, to wear this hair-do, make certain that you, after an initial resistance, if he permits it' yield to him as a particularly low and helpless girl. This hair-do here, on Crystal, with the bun in the back, is favored by many free women of the scribes. It, too, however, like the upswept hair-do has not been outlawed for slaves. Its apparent severity contrasts nicely with sexiness required of the slave.
She may be freed of its severity, and brought into the natural modality of her yielding and submissive femininity, with as little as a single tug, thusly. In contrast, regard Tiffany, who has the shorn look. Some men like this in a woman. To be sure, her hair is now growing out a bit. This is to be contrasted again, of course, with the shaven head, commonly inflicted only on a girl as a punishment or to protect her from lice in close confinements, such as on a slave ship. Again, in the matter of hair-dos as in all my instructions' to you, whether having to do with perfumes, silks, cosmetics, ornamentation, or whatever, you are to consider the total effect, the entire ensemble."
"Well done, Tiffany," he said. "You bring the whip well."
He took it from between my teeth.
"Thank you, Master," I said.
"Next," he said.
I knelt before him, my head down, the palms of my hands On the tiles, in the fashion which Ligurious had required of his girls. "I beg for love, Master," I whimpered. "I beg for love!" I licked at his feet. "I beg for love, Master!" I said.
"You do it very well," he said.
I lifted my head, tears in my eyes. "But I do beg for love!" I said. "I have not been contented in weeks!"
"How many of you other girls," asked the whip master, regarding the class, "beg for love?"
"I, Master!" cried a girl. "I, Master!" cried others.
"How many?" he asked.
And there was not one girl, naked and in her collar, in the entire class who did not raise her hand.
"Good," said the whip master. "Then you are hungry."
Our training then continued.
"No two masters are the same," said the whip master, "except in so far as each is the total master, just as no two slaves Eire the same, except that each is a total slave."
We all sat facing him, our backs against the wall of the Training room. The palms of our hands were flat on the floor at our sides and our legs were extended "before us, the ankles crossed, as though bound.
"You must, accordingly, strive to understand, relate to, serve and please the unique master in each man. You must bring your own individual personalities and talents to bear on his challenge. Try in your uniqueness to be perfect and special for him in his uniqueness. Read him. Learn him. Be one acutely aware of him. Be sensitive to his moods, and their changes. Find out what he wants from you, and then see that he gets it, and more. Find out what he wants you to be and then be it, beyond his wildest dreams. Remember that you are the slave. You exist for his service and pleasure."
"That is it, Tiffany," he said. "Stretch your limbs. Examine their fairness. Now look at the master. That is how you take bath before a man. Will he drag you forth and have you on lie slippery tiles or will he take you in the bath itself?"
"Do not forget to kiss the sandal, humbly, before eyeing it on his foot," said the whip master, "just as, when you remove them, you kiss them, before putting them away."
"Yes, Master," I said.
"Gently, Tiffany," said the whip master. "You are not rubbing down a tharlarion."
"Yes, Master," I said.
"Use the sponge well," he said. "Remember that it must not only clean but caress, and do not forget, in this service, to fondle and kiss the master, humbly and lovingly."
I kissed the wet shoulder of the man in the bath, and then kissed his cheek, through the wet canvas hood drawn over his face. He moaned. He was a male slave. "Similarly," said the whip master, "do not forget to press your body sometimes against that of the master, sometimes seemingly inadvertently. Along these lines, for example, it is easy, seemingly accidentally, to brush his lips with a pendant breast. if his lips should part you might then press it more closely against him, begging. You might then be cuffed back in the water, but later you will doubtless "be well used."
I knelt before the whip master, anxiously lifting the tray to him. He picked up one of the biscuits. He turned it over.
"This biscuit is burned on the bottom," he said. "If this happens again, you will be whipped."
"Yes, Master," I said. "Forgive me, Master."
"Good, Ruby," said the whip master. "That is how to remove a man's tunic. Make it a sensuous experience for him, in which you show him your slavery and your eagerness to serve. You may replace your tunic, Abdar."
"Yes, Master," said the hooded slave.
"You next, Tiffany," said the whip master.
"Yes, Master," I said.
"These biscuits are acceptable," he said. "In fact, they are good." "Thank you, Master!" I said.
"Good, Tiffany," said the whip master. "That is how you belly to a man. Put your head down, now. Let me feel your lips and tongue." "Yes, Master," I whimpered. "Good," he said.
"Later, too, when your hair reaches a suitable length, make certain that it falls about the master's sandals." "Yes, Master," I said.
I sensed that our training was coming to an end. We were returning to various basics, almost as elementary as scales to the musician, such things as basic kisses, caresses, position, attitudes and movement.
"Good," he said.
I had once been Miss Tiffany Collins, of Earth. I now lay on my belly on the tiles, naked and in a collar, licking and kissing at the feet of a Gorean male. It was my hope that he would find me pleasing, totally.
"Attention, Class," said the whip master.
We all straightened up, sitting, facing him, our backs against the wall of the training room. The palms of our hands, were flat on the floor at our sides and our legs were extended before us, the ankles crossed, as though bound.' "The results of your tests, your examinations, are now in. It is my pleasure to inform you that you have all passed."