The woman on the bench moaned, holding it. Elsewhere I saw another woman being removed from a similar bench, and being returned to the common chain.
I wondered if some of these women had been here before, perhaps as clients, or petitioners or even witnesses. I supposed so. It seemed likely.
A new female was brought to the further bench. She was sat upon it, straddling it. Her ankles were chained together beneath it. Her wrists were similarly secured, the length of chain running under the heavy, fixed-position marble bench. She was then, by the hair, drawn forward, to lie upon her belly on the cool marble.
All of these women, I suspected, had been in the Semnium before, in one fashion or another, or for one purpose or another, if only to meet friends or to examine and admire the interior appointments and mosaics. It is, after all, one of Torcadino's great buildings. But doubtless none of them had ever before been here in their present capacity, casual love meat set forth for the delectation of passers-by, or even of the idle or curious.
A new woman was being brought to the common chain now, to a place quite near me. She was a dark-haired, sweetly bodied beauty. On her neck was a hempen leash. Her hands were tied behind her back. In a moment she wore a heavy collar, and was on the chain. Her leash was then unknotted, and, with a quick, whiplike motion, as she winced, jerked away from her. Her hands, too, then, were freed. She was now on the chain, and no different from the others.
The woman on the bench near to me whimpered. She moved her body a little on the cool marble, piteously, clutching it with her hands, her legs chained on either side of the smooth, inflexible expanse.
The woman who had just been added to the chain rubbed her wrists. Apparently she had not been tied gently. I wondered if she, a free woman, not yet a slave, had dared to express less than total deference before a man, or if she were important.
"Mother," whispered a voice, from among the other captives, "is it you?" "Is it you?" whispered the new woman, startled, wildly, turning about. "Yes," said the other. "Yes!"
"Daughter!" she whispered.
The other, with a movement of chain, crawling, emerged from the other captives. They embraced, on their knees, weeping.
"Be quiet," said another woman, whispering. "Do you want us to be beaten?" "Mother! Mother!" wept the girl. "Daughter!" wept the woman.
"Be quiet," said the other woman.
"Are we permitted to speak?" asked the daughter, fearfully.
"We have not been told we may not speak," said another woman. "But I would not be too loud about it. Do not draw attention to yourselves."
"I do not even know if I may speak to you or not," sobbed the girl.
"We are women," said her mother. "If men do not wish us to speak, they will tell us, with their whips."
"Mother, mother," wept the girl, holding her.
"I had thought you might have escaped," said the older woman.
"No," said the girl. "The collar is on my neck."
"Who are you?" asked the mother.
"437," whispered the girl. "Who are you?"
"I am 261," she said. She then drew back, holding her daughter at arm's length. "You see?" she said. "You may read it upon my breast."
"As you may read mine upon mine," said the daughter.
They then again embraced, sobbing, on their knees.
"What has become of us?" sobbed the girl.
"It is a common fate for women," she said.
"What will become of us?" asked the girl.
"Doubtless, the collar, and the service of a man," she said.
"I do not want to serve men!" said the girl.
"As a slave you will have no choice but do so, and perfectly," said the woman. "I do not want to serve them!" wept the girl. "I am afraid of men! They are brutes! I hate them!"
"Surely, from time to time," said the woman, "you have considered what it would be like to be their slave and serve them, fully, in all things."
"Mother!" said the girl. "You are my mother! How can you dare to even think of speaking to me like that!"
"You are not a little girl any longer," said the woman, gently. "You are now old enough to begin to understand such matters, Indeed, I think you do, or begin to, but do not admit this to me." "Mother!" said the girl, reproachfully.
"You are no longer a child," she said. "The years have passed. Are you not clear as to what has happened to you? Do you not understand the meaning of the wondrous changes which have transformed you into what you now are, the meaning of your new sensibilities, and feelings, and desires and instincts, and curves." "Do not speak to me like this!" said the girl.
"You are no longer a child," she said. "You are now a grown woman, indeed, a beautiful young woman, a desirable young woman."
" "Desirable! " she said, scandalized. But I could tell she was thrilled to hear this.
"That at any rate, whatever you may personally think about it, is the judgement of men, who are the arbiters and masters in these matters," she said. "Indeed, that much is attested to by your presence on this chain."
"Am I desirable," she asked, "truly desirablea€”as a female?"
"I believe so," said the mother. "And I am sure, sweet and dear daughter, that when you find yourself helpless in the arms of men, kicking and crying out, and squirming, their lust will make it quite clear to you."
"You needn't put it just that way," said the girl. She shrank back in the collar and chain. She put her hand to the collar. It was closed with a padlock. The collars these women wore had rings. It was by means of these rings, one to each collar, at the right side of the collar, and a second padlock, the bolt of which passed through the ring and a link of the chain, that the collars were attached to the common chain. In this fashion, a woman could be removed from the chain and yet be kept in a closed, padlocked collar. This was a different arrangement than had held the larger groups of women earlier, outside, at various points on the Avenue of Adminius. To be sure these were choice wenches. It was not surprising, then, that they should now find themselves the captives of a somewhat more refined constraint system. Additional security can be achieved, and often is, particularly when moving women, or when they are to be kept on the chain for a longer time, by riveting the collars shut. Needless to say, there is a large number of collar types, chaining arrangements, and security devices, the choices among them largely dictated by the motives and tastes of the master, and sometimes by his cultural background, all of which serve to keep women in perfect custody.
"True," said the woman.
"But you do think I am desirable?"
"Yes," said the woman.
"Oh," said the girl pleased.
"You are now ready for the collar," said the woman.
"No!" said the girl.
"You will find you have little choice in the matter," she said.
"I will resist! said the girl. "I will be strong!"
"And doubtless, after a test period, if they are so kind as to give you one, you will simply be killed."
"Killed?" she gasped.
"Yes," said the woman. "Men are only human. They do not, nor should they have, endless patience, particularly with the sort of animal which you will then be. It is not like having a foolish free companion, one who knows no better, who will patiently work with you for years, trying to help you become a woman." "I will try to be strong!" she wept.
"Such expressions often constitute but transparent concealments for envy and resentment," she said. "Consider whether or not this might be true in your case. Similarly, even worse do not use them to disguise your fear of men and of your own true nature. Too, they are but ill used when put forth to praise what may be actually only sexual inertness, neurotic rigidity or false pride. Do not concern yourself in this matter, sweet daughter, with the values of others, and particularly of men, or of those who desire to be imitative of men, but seek to find your own female values, the deepest and most feminine values in your being, those of your deepest self. Try to find out who you are, in the depths of your most complete femaleness, and then dare to be what, truly, you are." "You are my mother," she said. "You must not talk to me in this way." "Perhaps you are right," said the woman. "And perhaps I would not myself even dare to do so if I were not here with you, naked, in a collar, too, with a number on my breast."