"Yes, Master!" she said.
"Do you think you would have lied to me, if I owned you?" I asked.
She looked up at me. "No, Master!" she said.
"I do not think you would have either," I said.
She shuddered.
"But, of course, I do not own you."
"No, Master," she said.
"But as you know, an errant slave may be disciplined by an free man."
"Yes, Master," she said.
"For example, her master might not be present."
"Yes, Master," she whispered.
"Her slavery does not exist only in his presence," I said.
"No, Master."
"It is uncompromised, categorical and absolute, at any moment, wherever she is," I said.
"Yes, Master."
"And thus it is fitting, is it not, that she be subject to the discipline of any free man?"
"Of course, Master."
"And Marcus, my friend, and I are free men."
"Yes, Master."
"And you are thus subject to our discipline."
"Yes, Master."
"And you lied to us."
"Forgive me, Master!" she begged.
"If I were your master," I said, "I do not know what I would have done with you. It is an interesting question. Surely, at the least you would have been stripped and tied, and given a lashing."
She swallowed, hard.
"And I do not think you would soon forget it," I said.
"No, Master," she said.
"Do you think you would then lie to me again?"
"No, Master!" she said.
"You would attempt to improve your behavior, in all ways?"
"Yes, Master."
I regarded her.
"Master?" she asked.
"I am thinking that since we do not own you that perhaps it might be fitting if your discipline were decided by your master, the noble Appanius."
"Please, no, Master!" she said.
"It would be easy enough," I said, "to strip you and tie your hands behind your back, and then write upon your body some brief but suitable message."
She seemed to pale beneath her burns.
"The left breast, as you know," I said, "it the usual place for such messages." This is, one supposes, because most masters are right-handed.
"Please do not inform my master, Appanius!" she wept.
"You seem to fear him," I said.
"Yes!" she wept.
"It is good for a girl to fear her master," I said.
"You do not understand!" she said. "I have already it seems muchly displeased him. Already I have been shorn and put in the fields! If I gave him further cause for discipline I do not know what he would do with me!"
"You might be whipped?" I said.
"He might have me thrown to the eels in his pool!" she said.
"Have no fear," I said, "you have been helpful and cooperative, and I have obtained much of value from our conversation, more doubtless than you understand. Similarly, as this is the first time we have met, at least formally, I am inclined, somewhat against my better judgment, to be initially lenient. It might be pointed out, for example, that you did not know the sort of men we were. Perhaps some men ignore lies in a slave, pretending not to notice them, or, mistakenly, graciously accept them as trivial, as merely a girl's peccadilloes. But we are not such men. We are not patient with such things. Even had you lied about something as small as a candy or pastry we would not have accepted it. We approve of, and expect, truth from a slave. In short, had you known the sort of men we are, it is my speculation that you would not have lied to us."
"No, Master," she said.
"But, as I have suggested, I am inclined to be lenient, in this first offense."
"Thank you, Master," she said.
"Also, of course," I said, "we are not your master, and it seems that serious or grievous discipline should be the prerogative of the master. These prerogatives we do not desire to usurp."
"No, Master!" she said.
"Accordingly," I said, "your discipline is to be light."
"Thank you Master," she said.
I then lashed her head back and forth, first with the palm of my right hand, and then its back. Then, with the last backhand stroke, I struck her from her knees, to her side, and she was lying on her side, twisted, her palms down in the white dust. She looked back at me, disbelievingly, startled, tears in her eyes, over her right shoulder.
"Position," I said.
She crawled back to where she had knelt, and resumed her former position, her head bowed.
I walked about her and then crouched before her.
I put my hand under her chin and lifted it. Her face was red from the cuffing. There were tears on her cheeks. Her lip was swollen. There was some blood at the side of her face. I removed my hand, and let her once again lower her head. "Oh!" she said.
"You have a good belly," I said.
"Ai," she said, softly.
"And an excellent figure," I said.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, softly, helplessly.
I removed my left hand from the small of her back, where I had held it, that she might not draw back more than I would permit. "And you have at least the glimmerings of slave vitality," I said.
She moaned.
"You are not going to lie to us again, are you?" I asked.
"No, Master!" she sobbed.
I then rose to my feet and stepped back a little.
She squirmed a little. "May I speak?" she begged.
"Yes," I said.
"That was a light discipline?" she asked.
"Yes," I said, "naught but a mere cuffing."
Normally, of course, one cuffs with a single blow. She had, however, lied. Even so, I had, of course, pulled the strokes. One does not wish to injure the slave, only punish her. Had I struck her heavily, with the force easily summonable by a strong man, I might have broken her neck.
"I am sorry, if I have displeased Masters," she said.
I did not speak.
"But Masters are wrong in one thing," she said. "What is that?" I asked.
"I have in me more than the glimmering of slave vitality," she said.
"It seems so to you now," I said, "but in some months, when you are truly helpless under the lash of your needs, and you understand the prison in which they have placed you, you will better understand my words."
"Even so!" she wept.
Her eyes pleaded with me.
"You may break position," I said.
She flung herself to her belly before me, and pressed her lips to my feet. "Please," she said. "Please!"
"You grovel as a slave," I said.
"I am no longer a free women," she said. "I no longer have to pretend. I no longer have to lie."
I looked down at her, pondering her needs. Her lips were soft on my feet, timid, petitioning.
"I am now half naked and in a collar!" she sobbed. "I am at your mercy. Take pity on me!"
"You wish to placate masters?" I asked.
"If I have displeased them, yes!" she said.
"You would like to escape further punishment?" I asked.
"Surely it is understandable that a girl such as myself, one so helpless, one in bondage, would seek to avert the wrath of men, that she would seek by her curves, her service and love to soften the hearts of masters."
Yes, I thought, that is understandable. Slave girls are, when all is said and done, in spite of their beauty, so vulnerable, so owned, so ultimately helpless. "Please, Master," she said.
"You wheedle and beg well," I said.
She looked up at me.
"Doubtless you learned that in your first days as a slave, in the house of Appanius, perhaps desiring to be fed."
"I am begging!" she said.
I looked down at her.
"Surely master understands for what I am begging," she said.
"Oh?" I said.
"Command me to strip," she wept. "There is shade on the other side of the tank. The dust is cool there. You do not need a blanket or a wrap. Put me in the dust itself!"
I did not speak.