"May I speak?" I asked.
"Yes," he said.
"Is it truly so tragic, to care for a slave, just a little?" I asked. "You have done enough," he said. "Do not seek further to make a fool of me." I was silent.
He put his head down, in his hands.
How painful, complex and subtle can be the relationships between human beings. I tried to understand how he must view me. He saw me, it seemed, as one who, if she were free, and immune from punishment, and held power, would torment and scorn him, exploiting him, despising him, amusing herself with him. As far as I knew I had done little to provoke these feelings, at least until he had refused my advances. I had given him reason, to be sure, in Corcyrus, to believe me contemptible and petty. I had made certain Earth values, to his irritation, clear to him, such as an amoral expediency and a mockery of honor. My smallness, my contemptibility, I had unwittingly flaunted before him, regarding such things, at that time as signs of my depth and cleverness. Too, he seemed to find me, in some way, and I did not fully understand it, maddeningly desirable. This had to do, it seemed, with some unusual and subtle relationship between us. These things, doubtless in part because of his pride and self-image', his reluctance to accept tenderness, his fear of feeling and sentiment, his lofty conceptions of the attitudes and behaviors proper to his caste, had driven him half mad with frustration. Yet, too, he had, with Menicius, risked his life in the camp of Miles to free me, and he had sought desperately to protect and defend me in the inquiry with Claudius and the high council. It was clear, I think, he cared for me deeply.' In all this, of course, he regarded me as little more than a curvaceous, scheming slave, one who did "not care for him, but one who, to protect herself, would do anything, even pretend falsely to love. He did not know I truly loved him.
I resolved upon a bold plan. I would attempt to get him to cure himself of the false Sheila, that the way might then be open for a poor, nameless slave who so much loved him.
"Free me," I said, angrily, pulling at the ropes. A He looked at me. "Free yourself," he said.
"I cannot!" I said.
"Why do you wish to be freed?" he asked. A "I do not love you!" l said. "Now, at last, you speak the truth," he said.
"Not only do I not love you," I cried, "but I hate you! I despise you! I hold you in contempt as a ~iteous weakling! I always have!"
He smiled.
"I am tired of trying to fool you," I said. "Now, free me!"
"Why should I free you?" he asked.
"Because I am a free woman!" I said.
"That is ~not true," he said. "I saw you' jerk in the' hands of A? the "soldier." "I could not help myself," I said.
"Only a natural slave could not have helped herself," he said.
"I do not want to belong to, you," I said.
"I have an alternative in mind," he said. "I think I shall A? give you to the department of the mines. There, naked and yoked, you shall carry water." "No!" I cried.
"Do you beg to be kept in my collar?" he asked. "Yes, Master," I whispered. "Then we shall let it stand at that, shan't we?" he asked. "Yes, Master," I said. I had not counted on the possibility of being sent to the mines.
I knelt back in the ropes. I looked at Dri~su's Rencius. He was quite capable, I realized, suddenly, of sending me to the mines. I did not want that to happen. Too, "looking at him then, I saw him suddenly not only as a man I loved but, also, independently, as a strong and powerful master. I found, then, that I had squirmed in the ropes, inadvertently, reflexively, my thighs moving. I hoped that he had not noticed.
"What is wrong?" he asked.
"Nothing!" I said. I felt the heat of the slave in me. I hoped he could not detect the signs in my body~ I hoped he could not smell me.
He was silent.
"May I speak?" I asked.
"Yes," he said.
"I gather," I said, "that, you intend to keep me."
"At least for a time," he said.
"I presume," I said, "that at least one of the purposes for Which you purchased me was to make use of me."
"Perhaps," he said.
"I am ready," I said. "Begin my slavery."
He regarded me, not speaking.
"You see me in a collar," I said, angrily. "You know what a collar does to a woman!"
He smiled.
"I have been owned," I said. "I have had masters. They have made me this way!" "So men do have their vengeance," he said. "The scheming beauty is needful." "Yes!" I said. "Speak clearly," he said. "I am needful," I said. "You are more than needful," he said.
"You may or may not believe I love you," I said, "but about my arousal, my need, there is no disputing."
"That is true," he said. "You are obviously, now, a needful slave." "Please," I begged.
He left the chair and, crouching beside me, not hurrying, freed me of the ropes. "Touch neither me nor yourself," he said.
"Yes, Master," I moaned. My body was flaming with He regarded me for a few moments. I moaned.
Then, for a brief moment, he took me in his arms. His hand was upon me, intimately. "I love you! I love you! I love youl" I cried, jerking in his hands, pressing against him, trying ~o cover him with kisses.
"Stop," he said. "To your belly."
Then I was on my belly, on the tiles, my hands at the sides of my head, prone, before his curule chair. He resumed his seat.
I lifted my head and upper body, wildly, agonized, to regard him.
"You are a hot slave," he said.
I regarded him wildly, pathetically, unbelievingly, speechlessly.
"Do you beg a man's touch?" he asked.
"Yes," I said, "yes!"
"Then beg," he said.
"I beg your touch," I wept. "I beg your touch! Please touch me, Master! I beg it!"
"Truly?" he asked.
"Yes," I said. "I beg your touch, truly, Master! I beg it, truly! Please, touch me, Master! Please! Please!"
"No," he said.
I collapsed then to the tiles, sobbing, helpless, quivering with need.
"And thus," said he, "may a hated slave be denied."
I then became aware that he had left his chair, that he was standing near me. to do go, do little to assuage the almost intolerable "passions he had aroused in me. I looked at him, piteously. He laughed, and left. Then I was kneeling there, bewildered, alone, chained. I was a slave I must await his return. He did not, of course, tell me where he was going or when he would be back.
"You understand, do you not," he asked, "that this is a symbolic re-enactment and that it in no way compromises your slavery?"
"Yes, Master," I said.
"For example," he said, "for your treatment of me in CorCyrus, and for various insolences, and lapses, you must still answer to me, and to my whip."
"Yes, Master," I said.
"You are now dressed, are you not," he asked, "fully in the garments of the Tatrix, even to the nature, the subtlety and delicacy of the undergarments?" "Yes," I said.
"And beneath those," he said, "in the eccentric undergarments of Earth, in garments similar to those which you, a barbarian, doubtless once wore there?" A? "Yes," I said. These undergarments had once' belonged to Sheila. They had been, brought to Argentum by Menicius, for the inquiry. I supposed that now, technically, they might be tho property of the state of Argentum, I, at any rate, did not own them. I could own nothing.
Rather it was I who was owned. Fortunately, Sheila and I were almost identically figured.
"Turn, Tatrix," said Drusus Rencius.
I turned, obediently, before him. He sat in the eurule chair, across, the room. I had been given the slave name, "Tatrix." I had been given no choice in the matter, and I must respond to it, perfectly.