Toward morning, in the early hours, he summoned me to his bed and again made use of me. I knelt beside the bed, kissed the covers and crawled into it. He knelt me and turned me about, and pushed my head down. He was quick with me. He was half asleep. I suppose I should have been grateful that I was permitted the honor of the couch. I do not think he, half asleep, wished to' leave it. He did not bother unbraceleting me. Then, with his foot, when lie was finished, he thrust me from the couch. At the foot of the couch, on the tiles, with my teeth; I readjusted the sheet about me, as I could. I then lay there, wide-eyed, for a time, not sleeping.
How far I was from my small apartment, from the perfume counter in the department store on Long Island. That mercenary little chit was now, on this natural world, a braceleted slave at the foot of a man's couch. No longer, now, was she, in the prerogatives of freedom, permitted to give men nothing, or frustration now she must serve them with perfection and provide them, to the best of her ability, at their merest whim, with fantastic pleasures. At least now, I thought, I am good for something.
How casually Miles of Argentum had just used me! But I did not object, for I was a slave. This form of casual, use, this off-handed employment of us, while perhaps inappropriate for a free woman, was acceptable for a slave. We did not have to be the subject of elaborate and tiresome preparations and pretenses, of complex rituals of attention and respect. We could, at times, be mere conveniences to the master, and, in this, too, we find something honest, natural, straightforward and lovely. There are times when the master simply wants us, and now. At such times, too, as we are slaves, it pleases us to serve. To be sure, the use to which Miles of Argentum had just subjected me, and I was well aware of this, had not been merely casual, a simple convenience use. It had, too, been a spurning use. Though he had not spoken to me, save to summon me imperiously to him, I had little doubt that he was still thinking of me in terms of Sheila, the Tatrix of Corcyrus. What a rich joke on the proud Tatrix! What a splendid lesson for the captured sovereign, to be subjected to a mere convenience use in the early morning, and then to be spurned to her place at a slave ring. But even so I did not object. Something in the woman of me responded to the masterful authority in this treatment. It made clear to me, once again, the delicious, terrible domination to which I was subject on Gor. I wanted men to be my superiors and masters, as they were on Gor. I wanted to be owned by them, as I was on Gor. I wanted to love them, and obey them, as I had to, without choice, on Gor.
I thought of Miles of Argentum.
How skillful he was at teaching a woman her slavery. How well he had put me through my paces on the leash, and then later in his arms. And, but moments ago, he had simply ordered me to him and had then, wordlessly, before taking me, positioned me precisely as he wanted me, my head even down.
I considered my compliance with his wishes and desires. I had obeyed him perfectly. I would not have dared to do otherwise, of course. He was not a man of Earth, or a typical man of Earth. He was a Gorean male.
I twisted a bit on the tiles, carefully, so as not to dislodge the sheet. I moved my wrists a little, they locked helplessly behind my back in their slave bracelets.
How men do with us as they please, I thought. How they master us!
I pulled for a moment, angrily, futilely, irrationally, against the slave bracelets, but I could not, of course, free myself.
What a glorious world this is for men, I thought, that here women such as I must serve and please them!
But then I squirmed with pleasure and joy.
And what a glorious world for women, I thought, that here we must so serve and please!
I felt then the raptures of my bondage, from the tranquilities of selfless service to the ecstasy of a slave's sexual surrender to the dominant male, the master. How perfect I was for bondage; how perfect bondage was for me. I had been designed by nature for bondage. This was clear in my body, and in my nature and dispositions. I rejoiced that I had been brought to a world in which I was free to fulfill, and, in certain circumstances, would have no choice but to fulfill, this implicit destiny. Here, on Gor, there were none of the confusions, the denials, the lies and ambiguities of Earth; here there was clarity, structure and truth. Here civilization did not war with nature; here slaves were slaves, and masters masters. Here I would be what I was, and without compromise, a slave. I did not object. Rather was I thrilled with this, as Iliad now learned, my natural fulfillment.
I was frightened of Miles of Argentum.
He seemed to think of me not as the helpless and lowly slave I was, a mere girl rented.for his pleasure for an evening, but as though I were a high lady and free captive, Sheila, the Tatrix of Corcyrus, who was then, perhaps in his vengeance on her for her escape from his camp, to be humiliated and humbled, and forced even, in her now unbreakable captivity to perform and serve as a slave. Certainly he had taken much pleasure with me.
But he must know that the true Sheila had fallen to Has-san, the Slave Hunter. Only recently he had brought her to Argentum in a golden sack. Even now, for his amusement, he kept her for several Ahn a day in that sack, suspended, tied shut in the throne room, while business was conducted. The sack was to be opened, and she was to be presented to Claudius Ubar of Argentum, and the high council, and high citizen celebr of Argentum, at the climax of a great feast, to be ated two days from now.
So what interest had Miles of Argentum in me?
Surely he did not think that I might be the real Sheila.
In his treatment of me, and in calling me Sheila, and so on, surely he had been only playing a game with me.
He could not remember me that clearly, I hoped, from his appearance before me in the great hall, when I had sat upon the throne, for from the time when he had had me locked, naked, a captive, in a golden cage.
No He was only playing with me.
I was merely Tiffany, a feast slave, brought to Argentum with others to serve at the victory feast.
It was not my fault if I bore some remote resemblance to Sheila the Tatrix of Corcyrus.
I reminded myself that Miles of Argentum did not own me I reminded myself that he had only rented me for an eve-fling, for a night, as men may rent women such as I.
Alin, in the morning, I would be returned to my keepers. I would then forget about me. In a matter of days, probably some three or four days, I would be on my way back with the others.
I had nothing to fear.
He did not own me. That was what was most important He could not even harm me, at least seriously, or permanently, without paying some form of restitution to the Enterprises of Aemilianus. I was, after all, their girl proper not his. I then, toward morning, fell asleep.
I awakened rather late. It must have been around the eighth Ahn. The room was flooded with light.
There had been a knock at the door. lt must have been girl keeper coming for me, I thought. I struggled to my knees. is in such a position that a slave girl commonly greets a ft man. I did not wish to be kicked or cuffed for discourse braceleted as I was, I could not keep the sheet on me. It fell across my thighs. But it was someone else, I saw. Miles Argentum, dressed and shaved, answered the door.
"She will be with you shortly," he said. I did not understand that remark. He then closed the door. I gathered the man might be waiting outside. I did not recognize him.
"I see that you are up, Lady Sheila," he said.
"Yes, Master," I said.
"It is just as well," he said. "It is now past the eigth Ahn.
I did not understand, at that time, the reference to the eighth Ahn. Was that supposed to have some significance me?
I was then startled. I felt Miles of Argentum, from the back, pressing a tiny key into my collar.