"I?" she said, softly. "Booty?"
"Yes, "I said, "if you were slave."
"I understand," she said, trembling. I saw from the way she said this, so softly trembling, so thrilled, that she belonged, truly, in a collar.
"To be sure," I said, "the slaves in such a situation would be well advised to be as obedient and pleasing as possible."
"Of course," she said.
"Particularly as the killing lust might still be upon the men."
"I understand," she said. "But slaves are generally well trained in placatory behaviors," I said.
"Of course," she said.
"And they serve well, naked, in the victory orgies," I said.
"Yes," she said.
"But then even free women may be used in such orgies," I said.
"I do not think they would long remain free," she said.
"No," I said. "That would presumably be their last night of freedom." "Do they serve naked at the orgy, as do the slaves?" she asked.
"Of course," I said.
"Are such women sometimes enslaved before the orgy?" she asked.
"Yes," I said, "presumably that they will then understand the totality of what will be expected of them at the feast. Too, some commanders think this is an excellent introduction to her new condition for a former free woman."
"They are probably right," she said.
"We must get you home soon," I said.
"Why?" she asked.
"You are tempting," I said.
"But if I were a slave," she said, "I would be subject to penalties." "Yes," I said. "The master would own you."
"I could even be killed," she said.
"It is one thing, of course," I said, "to be subject to penalties, and it is quite another for them to be inflicted."
"That is true," she said.
"For example," it is one thing to be subject to the whip, and to know that subjection is quite real, that the master can, and will, whip you, and well, if you are not pleasing, and something else to be actually whipped."
"I understand," she said.
"But in general it is similar with all the penalties," I said, "even those which are seldom, if ever, inflicted. She must know that they exist, and that, for her, they are real possibilities. She must know, whether they are inflicted upon her or not, that she is truly subject to them.
"I understand," she said.
"This is the sense in which she knows that anything can be done with her, that she might even be killed."
"I understand," she said.
"Without this," I said, "her slavery would be incomplete. She would not be a total slave."
"That is true," she whispered.
"Most simply put," I said, "she belongs to the master, fully, totally." "I understand," she said.
"So let us now return to your residence," I said.
"I could accept that risk," she said. "It would be part of my fulfillment. Indeed, without it, I could not truly, fully, belong to him."
"You are so confident of your ability to please?" I asked.
"I am confident of my ability to try desperately to please," she said. "We must be on our way," I said, sitting up.
"Take me to a slaver's," she said.
"No," I said.
"Are you a true man?" she said, petulantly, rising up on her knees.
I regarded her.
"Are you?" she challenged.
"You belong in a collar," I said.
"Take me to a slaver's!" she said. "See that I am put in one!"
I did not speak.
"Let it be such that I cannot remove it!" she said.
"It would be such, I assure you." I said.
"Take me to a slaver's!" she said.
"No," I said.
"Are you afraid?" she asked.
"No," I said. "Look upon me," she said. "Am I not the sort of woman who might suitably be taken to a slaver's?"
"Yes," I admitted.
"Do so," she said.
"No," I said.
"Look," she said, but inches from me, as I sat there, observing her. She suddenly rose up a bit on her knees and thrust her belly forward, toward me. "There!" she said. "Would any but a slave do that?" she asked.
"No," I said. Perhaps it would have been better for her, I thought, if she had not done that. She was attractive.
"Take me then to a slaver's," she said.
"No," I said.
"You are no true man!" she said.
I then stood up before her. She looked up at me puzzled, I then, after regarding her for a time, suddenly with the back of my hand, struck her fiercely back from the mat, she twisting and falling back, flung to the side from her knees, almost half on her feet for an instant, then losing her balance, then falling back into the trash at the side of the wall. She, from the midst of the garbage, half on her side, looked at me wildly, her hand at her mouth, blood between her fingers. I pointed to the mat. "Here," I said. "Kneel."
She hastened back to the mat and knelt before me. She looked up at me in wonder, blood at her mouth. She had been cuffed. "Did you strike me because I challenged your manhood?" she asked. "I did not really mean it. It is only that I was terribly angry. I did not think.
"You were not struck for such an absurd reason," I said.
"You are after all, a free woman, and free women are entitled to insult, and to attempt to demean and destroy men. It is one of their freedoms, unless men of course, should decide to take it from them. You were struck, rather, because you were attempting to manipulate me."
She nodded, putting her head down.
"Do you recognize your guilt, and the suitability of your punishment?" I asked. "Yes," she said. "Also," I said, "I would not, if I were a free woman, go about moving like that before men."
"But I am not really a free woman," she whispered.
"You are at this time in your life," I said, "legally free. Do not forget it." "Yes," she said, "a€”Master."
"Do not call me "Master, I said. "That is for slaves."
"Yes, Master," she said.
"You seem to have a curiosity as to the slave experience," I said.
"I am a slave," she said. "It is only natural that I would have some curiosity about what it is to be a slave." She put down her head. She wiped some of the blood from her mouth.
"You have no idea," I said, "about what it is like, truly, to be a slave." She did not respond.
"Perhaps I can change your mind about its desirability," I said.
"Master?" she asked.
I then took her by the hair and, twisting her about, as she cried out, flung her forcibly, on her back, on the mat. I then, ruthlessly, angrily, swiftly, caring nothing for her feelings or sensibilities, exploiting her, employing her for my pleasure. I then, in a moment or two, stood up beside her, and rolled her to her side, spurning her, with my foot. She lay there on the mat, gasping, her legs drawn up.
"So," I asked, "Free Woman, what do you think?"
She turned about and looked up at me, through her hair.
"It is thus that a slave may be used," I said.
She looked up at me. In her eyes there were tears.
"How did you like it?" I laughed.
She went to her belly and reached for my foot. She put her lips over it and kissed it tenderly. Then she looked up at me, again, her hair about her face. "I loved it," she said.
I cried out with rage, and pulled my foot away from her.
"Put on your garment," I told her, angrily.
"Yes, Master," she said. In a bit she had donned the brief leather garment. It amazed me that it could take her so long to get into so little. To be sure, she had had to smooth it out, and had not been hurrying. She looked down at the garment, now on her. She pulled down a bit at the sides. "It is not very large, is it?" she said.
"No," I said.
"But I suppose," she said, "if I were a slave, I might be given things much less than this to wear, and things far more revealing."