"Perhaps not," I said. She had been manhandled a bit, put where I wanted her, and so on, allowed to understand that she was an instrument of my pleasure.
"And surely you did not treat me with respect," she said.
"No," I said. "But then you are not the sort of woman who is to be treated with respect. You are a collared slave."
"I wait for my master," she whispered.
"I do not think, now, given the recent confirmation of these insights in you, you will have to wait long for your rightful chains, but, in the meantime, you will serve the customers in the Tunnels."
"The customers!" she wept.
"Yes," I said, and then I turned her over, putting her again on her belly on the mat.
"Oh!" she said.
"Yes, the customers," I said, "of whom I am one."
"Yes, Master!" she said. "Oh! Oh! Ohhhhh!"
"Excellent," I said.
I saw that her fingernails had scratched at the mat. I put my hand on the mat, near her face. The mat was damp there, from tears.
"Master well knows how to use a slave," she said.
"You yielded well," I said.
"I cannot help myself," she said. "I am a slave."
"And only that?" I asked.
"Yes, Master," she said.
I gently parted her hair, putting it delicately on either side of her neck. In this way I could see the collar on her neck, and the small, sturdy lock at the back of the neck.
"I wonder who truly loves himself, and women," she whispered, "he who is so true to himself and his nature, refusing to deny it or pretend it doesn't exist, and who fulfills women, as what they really are, or he who betrays himself, who lies to himself and who denies the true needs of women?
"It is true," I said. "There are two sexes, and they are quite different." "Is that not heresy, for a man of Earth, to say that?" she asked.
"This is Gor," I said. I pulled at her collar a little. "Are you not aware of that, slave?" "Yes, Master," she said. "I am aware of it."
"In a world where nature is free, a world not subjected to ideological poisonings, a world where she is not crippled, and hobbled," I said, "what is the place of women?"
"At the feet of men, Master," she said.
"And where are you, Louise?" I asked.
"At the feet of men," she said.
"Such does not prove, of course," I said, "that Gor is the ideal world, but it does indicate that Gor possesses at least one feature of the ideal world." "Yes, Master," she said.
"To be sure," I said, "it is not unknown for females, free women, of course, to seek power."
"Such pursuits, to me," she said, "seem disgusting and unnatural in a woman." "They are," I said. "But perhaps they are to be forgiven when men abdicate their responsibilities. Perhaps it is fit then that they be destroyed as males." "No, Master!" she said.
"Why not?" I asked.
"For then we cannot be truly women, Master. The equations of nature would be disrupted. It would be madness and sickness. It could mean the end of a world." "What do you think would happen if you were to seek power, Louise?" I asked. "Doubtless I would be whipped and used," she said, "and then thrown naked, chained, into a tiny cage or slave box, and kept there until I learned my lesson, and begged to be suitably subservient. I might even be killed."
"Yes," I said, "but then you, of course, are a slave."
"Yes, Master," she said.
"You are not a free woman,"
"No, Master," she said.
"That makes a great difference," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"They do much what they please," I said, "even if its ultimate objective is clearly the subversion of nature, involving the reduction and debilitation of an entire sex, a sex crime than which, it seems, none could be more heinous." "How filled with hate they must be," she said.
"Perhaps," I said.
"Unable to be men," she said, "they try to destroy them. In this they fail also to be women."
"Perhaps," I said. "I do not know."
"They will attempt to use law," she said, "using men against men, using them as their dupes and tools, until the last man can be destroyed."
"That seems the intent," I said. "It is not even well concealed."
"No, Master," she said.
"It is an interesting concept," I said, "that legislation could be passed against manhood, that nature can be dismissed with a statute, that her reality and aristocracy can be declared illegal. Surely there is some sort of category confusion here. Laws cannot validly be passed against facts. Any such law is automatically null and void. It is like the English king who in the legend sat upon the beach and forbade the incoming waves to touch his robes."
"What happened?" she asked.
"He got wet," I said. "To be sure, he may have ordered the waves beaten, but, as far as we know, the ocean failed to take note of this."
"At least he moved before he was drowned," she said.
"Let us hope that all kings, however stupid they may be, would have that much sense at least."
"Surely they would," she said.
"Not necessarily," I said. "If they are sufficiently stupid, and sufficiently strongly conditioned, closing their minds to options, and such, they might remain right where they were, proceeding righteously to a watery grave. Such things are not unknown. Many people have given their lives for absurdities. Some are called heroes."
"Surely at least some of them were idiots," she said.
"That might seem a juster appraisal, scientifically," I admitted. "Still one might regret the tragedy involved, even in the case of the idiot."
"Yes, Master," she said.
I stood up. "Master is leaving?" she asked.
I brushed her waist and flank with my foot. She shrank back a bit, on her belly, to the side. Women are so inutterably beautiful. I then put my foot on her, and let her feel a little of my weight, but not much. I then thrust down a bit, and stepped away from her. It had been an admiring, spurning caress. She lay there, the chain on her neck, on the mat. "I am through with you now," I said. "The hostess will soon come to unchain you, and send you back to your waiting station. The key is on its nail."
"And thus you leave me?" she asked.
"Yes," I said. I glanced over at the nearby table. The fellow who had been unconscious there, the free woman, the Lady Tutina, now chained half naked at his slave ring, she still unconscious, was showing some signs of reviving. "Master!" said the girl.
"Remain on your stomach until unchained." I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
I then stepped away from her, looking about myself. I had received a note to come to this place. I had waited, but no one, it seemed, had attempted to make contact. There could, of course, be various reasons for this. I did not think, however, that among these reasons would have been the inability to recognize me. Presumably the individual, or individuals, would be familiar with my appearance, either from the plaza near the Central Cylinder or from a description. This made it seem plausible, then, as they had not yet contacted me, that their business with me might be of a clandestine nature. One might think then in terms of the possible transmission of secret information, or, perhaps more likely, of the enterprise of the assassin, the covert business of unsheathed daggers.
I looked about. I did not think there would be more than two of them. I considered the openings to the Tunnels. The main egress, which served also as the entryway, would surely be under observation. The hostess, in earlier speaking to me of the free women brought in for a joke, had spoken of putting her out back in the morning, naked, and, if she had been used, with her hands tied behind her, with a punched tarsk bit tied on her belly. That suggested a rear exit. If they thought I were making for the that they might move swiftly, hastily, too hastily. It would be dark in the tunnel. I glanced back at the Earth redhead on the mat. She was still on her belly, as she had been commanded. She looked back and up at me, pleadingly. I then left her. She was only a slave.