Had I stolen a pastry? Had I not cleaned my kennel well enough? Had I not pleased some master well enough in the furs?
I was struck again.
"Oh," I sobbed, in misery.
Then twice more was I struck~ Drusus Renc~s did no~ much vary the locus of the impact nor the timing. He did not When he freed my hands of the strap I sank to my knees on the tiles under the ring.' I was half in shock. I knew he had not struck me with his full strength and, indeed, I had been struck only five times. It had been little or nothing as beatings go. Had I truly stolen a pastry, or done something displeasing, I would doubtless have been much more seriously beaten. The beating had been little more than informative in nature, not even really admonitory. Still I had felt it keenly. I had now felt the Gorean slave whip. No woman who has felt it ever forgets it. If I had had any doubts about the wisdom of being pleasing to masters these blows, few and light though they might have been, would have dispelled them. The beating had been little or nothing. Still, and I knew it, I had been under the whip.
He gave me scarcely a moment to recover. Then, crawling, swiftly, crying out, half dragged, I was pulled by the hair to the center of the room.
He knelt me there.
"Put your head down, to the floor," he said. "Clasp your hands, firmly, behind the back of your neck."
"Yes, Master," I moaned. He was then behind me. He put his hands, under my arms, on my breasts, sweetly and firmly. Then he moved his bands back, caressing my flanks. My head was down. My fingers were together, behind the back of my neck. I was in his collar. It was steel, I could not remove it. I belonged to him. My body hurt, from his whip, that of my master. My head hurt, from my hair, where I had been conducted, unceremoniously, to this location. "Please, Master," I sobbed. "Not like this! Not you, please!"
"The slave is pretty," he remarked.
"Oh!" I cried. "Oh!"
"You have a lovely ass," he said.
"Ohhh!" I said.
"You may thank me," he said.
"Thank you, Master!" I said. I tried not to move. It was difficult. "Please do not treat me like this. Please do not handle me like this!"
"I will do with you as I please," he said:
"Please do not make me yield like this, please! I love you!"
"Yield or not, as it pleases you," he said, unconcernedly.
Then I began to whimper and moan.
"Do not move," he said.
"Please," I begged.
"You are a slave, aren't you?" he asked. "And a natural one?"
"Yes, Master," I said. "Yes, Master!"
"Very well," he said, "you may move."
"I beg to yield!" I sobbed.
"Very well," he said.
I then, a few moments later, lay on my belly on the tiles. I tried to feel resentment toward Drusus Rencius. I failed.
I turned to my side and, the palms of my hands on the floor, regarded him. He was again sitting in the curule chair.
"You are now ready to begin your slavery," he said. "Your name is "Lita'." "Yes, Master," I said. I was now no longer "Tatrix." I was "Lita." would respond well to this name. It had many memories for me. It almost turned me inside out with love for Drusus Reneius.
"You may serve me wine, Lita," he said.
"Yes, Master," I said.
A few moments later I knelt, lovingly, at the side of the curule chair. Reucius held the goblet of wine. I had even been permitted to drink from it, from the side opposite to that which had touched his lips.
"I know that you may not believe this," I said, "and I do not wish to be struck for saying it, but I love you."
"Now that you are my slave, and are in my collar," he said, "it doesn't matter, one way or the other, does it?"
"I suppose not," I smiled. "But I do love you."
"I thought you might," he said.
"Why did you resist my advances in Corcyrus?" I asked.
"You were not toying with me?" he asked.
"No," I said.
"There were many reasons," he said. "There was a discrepancy in our stations. I thought you a Tatrix. I was only a soldier. Too, deception was involved in my post. I was truly serving Argentum, and Ar, not Corcyrus. Too, though in a part of me I recognized the slave in you the first time I laid eyes on you, in another part of me, I supposed you actually, in spite of the evidence of my senses, to be a free woman.
Thus, it was important, though it tortured me to do so under the circumstances, to accord you respect and dignity."
"Rather would you have accorded me force and mastery," I smiled.
"Yes," he said. "Too, do not forget that on a certain level, or in a certain part of me, I recognized that you were, rather clearly, a slave. How then could I admit to myself that I, a warrior of Ar, might have certain feelings toward one such as you, only a slave? Too, that I discerned your pettiness, your cruelty and shallowness, dissuaded me from honestly admitting my feelings to myself. I did not wish to regard myself as a fooL Further, of course, you, seemingly so haughty and mighty a Tatrix, treated me with injustice and scorn. It is little wonder I dreamed of you in my collar, in my chains, wider my whip~" "Does it still distress you that I am a slave?" I asked.
"No," he said.
"Even a natural slave?" I asked.
"No," he said.
"You lost a silver tarsk to Publius on the matter," I reminded him.
"It was a bet which, in my heart, I hoped to lose," he said.
I licked at his knee, slowly, lovingly. Then I looked up at him.
He put down the goblet on the tiles, to the right of the chair.
He took my head between his hands, those large, strong hands.
"You are a superb natural slave," he said.
"Forgive me, Master," I said.
"I do not object," he said.
"Good," I said.
"In fact, it pleases me," he said.
"Good," I whispered.
He held my head between his hands, like it was that of a dog.
"Do some men care for their slaves," I asked, "just a little?"
"Some men care for them much more than a little," he said.
"Even natural slaves?" I asked.
"Those are the best sort," he said.
"I am glad to hear it," I said.
"In every woman," he said, "if one can but find it, I believe there is a natural slave."
"I believe it is true, Master," I said.
Then I felt myself drawn to his lips, and I was drawn half into the chair, and then he, holding my head, not releasing it, turned, and I felt myself moved backwards and to the side, to f my knees, before the chair, and then he was crouching before me, and then I felt myself being lowered backwards to the floor. "I love you," I whispered. "I love you, my masteri"
"Do I make you weak?" I asked. I lay now on love furs, at the foot of his couch. He had put a chain on my neck.
"No," he said.
I leaned over, and kissed him, delicately, intimately.
"Aiii!" he said.
"I see that my master speaks the truth," I said.
"She-sleen!" he said, and then, with a rattle of chain, threw me again beneath him.
"I would be a hundred slaves to you," I whispered, "a thousand!" "You are," he whispered. "You are."
"Doubtless master is tired now," I said, "and should rest. I will stop." "Not yet! Not yet!" he said.
"Very well," I said.
"Insatiable slut!" he growled. "Do you think I am made of iron?" "It seemed so," I said.
"Desist," he said.
"Yes, Master," I laughed. It was hard for me to keep my hands off Dnisus Rencius. He was so beautiful. I snuggled down beside him, my head at his hip. I kissed his hip. Then I lay there, quietly, beside him. "I am not disturbing you now, am I?" I asked.