"I have heard so," he said. "Perhaps as a cruelty, to teach them the master's power or that they are slaves, or as a punishment, or to ready them for a successful performance on the block, such things."
"Are such things done with male slaves?" she asked.
"Perhaps," he said.
She laughed.
He did not look at her.
"Look at me," she commanded.
"At least upon occasion," he said.
She laughed again, merrily.
This was true, incidentally. Tauntings, it might be mentioned, are usually involved in such denials. On the other hand, male slaves have much the better of it, in my opinion, in these matters. Sexual gratification is seldom denied to them for long periods. They, like male sleen, tend to become not only restless and aggressive, but dangerous. Accordingly, it is common to see that they are permitted to periodically access a female, almost invariably a slave. No such provision, on the other hand, is prescribed for the female slave. She, as her needfulness increases within her, as she becomes more lonely and miserable, more desperate, is left much on her own, to wheedle and beg, and such. To be sure, most female slaves enjoy an enormous amount of sexual experience. This is largely because they are beautiful and exciting, and slaves.
"You may rise, handsome slave," said she, amused.
"Yes, Mistress," he said.
She lay on her side, watching him. "You are indeed a handsome brute," she said. "Thank you, Mistress," he said.
She then lay on her back, toward the foot of the couch, and stretched, luxuriantly, indolently, before him, savoring the feeling of the fur, the delight of her own movement. She looked upward, lazily. She did not detect the net, of course, as she was not looking for it, and it was recessed in the structure of the ceiling, the ceiling having been designed for its concealment. She had the palms of her hands facing upward, at her sides. Her left knee was lifted.
I thought she would look well in a collar.
She moaned, softly.
She turned her head to the side, toward him. "Sometimes I feel," she said, "as I think a slave must feel."
The net, concealed, was above her.
"Do not approach!" she warned him.
He stood still.
She laughed, and rose, facing him, to her hands and knees, on the couch. She then backed away from him, toward the center of the couch. In this way, unwittingly, she positioned herself under the center of the net. To be sure, it had been designed to cover the entire couch.
"You may approach," she said. "No nearer!" she said.
He then stood near the foot of the couch.
"It seems, Mistress, has come to this room to torture a poor slave," he said. She then slipped to her left side, propping herself up with her left elbow, and, her knees drawn up, regarded him.
"Poor Milo," she said, sympathetically.
He was silent.
"There are slave rings on the couch," she said. "Perhaps I shall chain you to one of them."
"As Mistress pleases," he said.
"What woman of Ar would not desire you as her conquest," she mused.
He was silent.
"And you are mine," she said. "Conquered by my beauty."
He was silent.
"You have told me," she said, "that you have the needs of a male."
"Yes, Mistress," he said.
"It is true?" she asked.
"Yes, Mistress," he said.
"I am Ubara," she said.
"Yes, Mistress," he said.
"But I am also a female," she said, "and I have female's needs."
"Mistress?" he asked.
"Yes, Milo," she said. "It is true."
He looked down.
"Happily, of course, they are not those of a female slave," she said. "That, fortunately, has never been done to me."
"Yes, Mistress," he said.
In her last words her voice had almost broken. In them was betrayed a seething half-suspected emotional sea. In the Ubara, it seemed, might be latent depths on the shores of which she stood frightened, and in awe. In her, it seemed, might be revelations, discoveries, and enforcements that in her state of inert freedom could scarcely be conjectured. And well might she have feared such things. How helpless she might be, if she found herself in their chains. The slave girl is the helpless prisoner of her sexuality.
"Surely you understand the purport of my words," she said, angrily.
"Surely I dare not explicitly conjecture," he said.
"Why do you think I have come here?" she asked.
"To torture a poor slave, it seems," she said.
"That I could do in the Central Cylinder," she said.
"What more could there be?" he asked.
"Can you not guess?" she said.
"Mistress is free, and Ubara," he said.
"Look upon me," she commanded. "What do you see?" she asked.
"The Ubara of Ar," he said.
"And a female?"
"Yes, Mistress," he said.
"You are a man," she said. "When you arranged this meeting, surely you must have had hopes."
He put his head down.
"And you, shameful, arrogant slave, have presumed far above your station. I should have you boiled in oil!"
He kept his head down.
"But I am prepared to be merciful," she said.
"Mistress?" he asked, looking up.
"I am prepared to extend to you the extraordinary and inestimable privilege," she said, "of entering upon the same couch with me."
He looked at her.
"Yes," she said.
"I am unworthy!" he said.
"Are the sluts, thrown by the hair of their masters' couches any the more worthy?" she asked.
"No, Mistress," he said.
"Do not concern yourself then with such matters," she said.
"But so much honor!" he said.
"Do not consider it," she said.
"But I am only a slave," he said.
"That is know to me," she said.
"I have a master!" he said.
"Of course," she said.
"And mistress does this of her own free will?" he said.
"Yes," she said.
He was silent.
She gestured to the furs beside her. "I invite you to share my couch," she said. He hesitated.
"I am lying here before you," she said, " 'slave naked', as you vulgar men might say. Do you dally, handsome Milo?"
"Mistress invites me to share her couch?" he asked.
"Yes," she said.
"Mistress is then preparing to couch with me?"
"I am not only preparing to couch with you," she said. "I am prepared to couch with you." She then knelt on the couch, and back on her heels.
I glanced to Tolnar, the magistrate. He nodded.
"You may approach me," she said. She extended her arms, opened to him, as she knelt. "Come, handsome slave," said she. "Come, couch with me!"
I threw the lever, releasing the net.
It fell over her beautifully.
She screamed in surprise and fear, as its toils dropped about her. She tried to spring to her feet on the couch, clawing at it, but fell. Milo, doubtless practiced in the matter, expertly brought it together and whipped it about her and, in an instant, on her belly on the couch, she was helpless in its folds. Almost instantly, too, Marcus entered the front room, followed by Tolnar and Venlisius. I had remained for a moment or two at the observation portal. Then I, too, followed by Lavinia, entered the room. Although she may have been aware of my movement, that of another man entering the room, she did not, in her consternation, and in her attention to Marcus and the magistrates, before her, really look upon me, or recognize me. I was then in back of her, with the bracelets and linked shackles. Milo, his work done, stood now to one side. "What is the meaning of this!" she cried, on her belly, turning her head to the right, lifting it from the furs, squirming in the toils of the net.