She nodded, and lowered her head. Tears fell from her eyes to the pavement. "Come along," I said to the blonde.
"You will leave her here, like this?" she asked.
"Of course," I said. "And it is much what would have happened to you except that you would have been free, naked and bound, the tarsk bit at your belly, to try and make your way home."
I then, leaving my former hostess behind me on her knees, naked, her hands and ankles tied behind her to the slave ring, the tarsk bit on her belly, conducted the blonde back between the buildings to the Alley of the Slave Brothels of Ludmilla. It was on that street that there was to be found the insula of Achiates.
"There is the Tunnels," I said, crossing the street. "It is there that you were taken last night."
"Free women scarcely speak of it except in whispers," she said, shuddering. "It is one of the lowest of the slave brothels in Ar."
"It is there that you were taken," I said.
"What a grim and terrible place it seems," she said.
"It does look a bit grim now," I admitted. "But then you are not seeing it at its best. It is closed now, and it is early morning. It is hard to look one's best this early in the morning. I'm sure you will agree. In the evening now, when it opens, it looks much better, warmer, cheerful, lit up, even perhaps a bit gaudy. You would have known that last night if you could have gotten your head out of the sack."
"I'm sure of it," she said.
"Perhaps you could drop by some evening, and get a better idea of it," I said. "Perhaps," she said.
"But I would not come unescorted," I said.
"No," she said. "I do not think so."
"It is not really a terrible place at all," I said. "I think it is rather nice." "You were not chained naked in a slave alcove," she said. "Look at it this way," I said. "Consider it an interesting experience. After all, how many free women have ever been chained in a slave alcove." "I am one of the lucky ones," she said.
"Certainly," I said.
"I must thank you," she said.
"What for?" I asked.
"In the alcove," she said, "I was much at your mercy."
"You were totally at my mercy," I said, correcting her.
"Yes," she said, thoughtfully. "I was. And so I want to thank you for not using me."
"That is all right," I said.
"But you were thinking about it, weren't you?" she asked.
"Yes," I admitted.
"But you did not do so," she said.
"No," I said.
"Why not?" she asked.
"What?" I asked.
"Why not?" she asked.
"I do not know," I said. "I suppose because you were free, and so helpless." "My helplessness would not have made a difference if I were a slave, would it?" she asked.
"No," I said. "One often makes a slave absolutely helpless, and then does what one wants with her. One commands and uses a slave totally. That is what they are for. They must serve completely. They must deliver, at so little as a word or gesture, immediately and unquestioningly, whatever the master desires. One gets from a slave all that a man could possibly want from a woman, and more, simply taking it from her, or ordering her to provide it."
"She is so helpless," she said.
"Of course," I said. "She is a slave."
"But you did not use me," she said.
"No," I said.
"Because I was free?" she asked.
"I suppose so," I said. "I did not know how attractive you were, of course." "Had you known," she asked, "would you have used me?"
"I do not know," I said. "Perhaps I am only human."
"Is that why you have dressed me as you have?" she asked. She looked down, demurely, pulling down at the short hem of the leather she wore.
"Yes," I said.
"This is very revealing," she said. She pulled together the sides of the neckline, closing the garment there to some extent.
"Yes," I admitted.
"It bares my arms and shoulders," she said. "That would generally be done only with a slave."
"True," I admitted. She did not mention it, but it was not merely her arms and shoulders which were bared. Once could see a good bit of her legs, a sweet suggestion of her shapely breasts and, at the sides, going to the waist, a high slash of thigh.
She looked at me.
"It is a bit large," I said. The hostess had been a larger woman than she. She pulled it more closely about herself. This more accentuated her figure. "You put me in this garment," she said. "And it is the sort of garment a slave might be put in."
"Probably not in leather, however," I said.
She nodded. Leather is generally not permitted to slaves. Softer and more feminine fabrics, silk, rep-cloth, and such, often brief and clinging, not only stunningly attractive and aesthetically pleasing, but also indictive of, and reflective of, their subjection to masculine domination, are generally required of them.
"But I see what you mean," I said.
"Do you think I am a slave?" she asked.
"Of course not," I said.
"Oh, I do not mean legally," she said. "I mean really."
"Oh," I said, "then of course."
"Of course," she said.
"Yes," I said. "Beware!" she said. "I am a free woman!"
"Not really," I said.
"Not really?" she asked.
"No," I said. "You are really a slave. All you lack are some minor legal technicalities, such as a collar."
"This garment," she said, looking down, quickly. "It is so brief, so revealing. It makes me feel so strange."
I shrugged.
"How dare you have put me n such a garment?" she asked.
"It pleased me," I said.
"It calls attention to my sexuality," she said.
"It calls attention, at least," I said, "to the potentiality of your sexuality." "Am I beautiful?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"Am I sexually desirable?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"Am I beautiful enough and sexually desirable enough," she asked, "to be a slave?"
"That is a strange question for a free woman to ask," I said.
"Am I?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"Thank you for rescuing me," she said.
"You are welcome," I said.
"Could you really have carried me into slavery," she asked, "as you intimated in the alcove?"
"I could still do so," I said. "We are not far from the Street of Brands. Within the Ahn I could deliver you into the clutches and metal of a slaver. He would take one look at you, as you are now, and there would be no questions asked." "You would then get money for me?" she said.
"Yes," I said.
"But it is not your intention to do so?" she asked.
"No," I said.
"Why not?" she asked.
"I do not need the money," I said.
"Please," she said. "You are free," I shrugged.
"It is cold," she said, shivering.
"It will grow warmer later in the day," I said.
"What time do you think it is?" she asked.
"Somewhere between the fourth and the fifth Ahn," I said.
"It is so cold," she said, "and so dark and gray."
I turned away.
"Wait!" she called.
I turned back. "What?" I asked.
"I do not live in that direction," she said.
"So?" I said.
"Where then are you going?" she asked.
"To my room," I said. "It is late."
"No!" she said.
"No?" I asked.
"No," she said. "Aren't you going to take me home?"
"Can you find your way home from here?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
"Then do so," I said.
"Wait!" she called.
"Yes?" I said.
"See how I am clad!" she said.
"I do see," I said.
"I cannot go through the streets like this," she said.
"Many women," I said, "in collars, go through the streets with much less, and in full daylight, among crowds."
"They are slaves!" she said.