"Weakling!" she cried. "Weakling!"
She was very small, looking up at him. I considered her angry, curvaceous little form. How inappropriate seemed her anger, given the smallness, the softness, of her body. How absurd it seemed that the little animal should so boldly address itself to the larger, st4ronger brute. On what artifices, on what weaknesses, did it count? How bravely tiny animals may conduct themselves in the presence of caged larls! But how stupid are larls who will lock themselves in cages, being told to do so. But what if the larl should free itself?
"Weakling!" she cried.
Did she not know she was a female? Did she not know she wore a collar?
"Weakling!" she cried.
How the little animals would scurry if the larl emerged from its cage! Did she not know how easy it would be for her to be stripped and returned to her place in nature, at his feet? Did she in her heart fear the larl might one day say, "The joke is finished. It is enough." Or did she long for that day?
"Weakling!" she screamed.
The player regarded her, not speaking.
"Go away!" she screamed. "Go away!"
"Have you finished?" he asked.
"Your robes have dust on them," she said. This was, of course, the residue of dust remaining on them, after she had, earlier in the afternoon, kicked dust upon them. "I am a slave. Let me clean them for you!" She then suddenly, angrily, flung the pan of water upon him, drenching his robes from the chest down.
"Kneel, Slave!" cried Boots, in fury, coming up behind her. "Head to the ground!"
Startled, she cried out with misery. Then, immediately, in terror, she dropped the pan and assumed the prescribed position. "Master," she cried, trembling, "I did not know you had returned!"
"Apparently," said Boots.
"Forgive me, Master!" she begged. The other members of the troupe, now, and the slaves, and Lady Yanina, in her gown fashioned from a Sa-Tarna sack, gathered around. Lady Telitsia was white-faced. She had her hand before her mouth. She, now well acquainted with her own condition, that of the collared, female slave on Gor, was terrified as to what might be done to the errant Bina. Rowena, too, trembled.
"What is going on?" asked Boots.
"I suggest that you ask the slave to give an accounting," I said, "completely."
"The monster," she said, swiftly, "was mocking you, abusing you with may insults, Master. I could stand it no longer! I took it upon myself, risking my own life, to stop him, to defend your honor!"
"Is this true?" inquired Boots of the player.
How clever was the little she-sleen. She knew the possible penalties for what she had done. She counted on the player to support her story, to protect her from the horrifying repr9isals almost certain to be visited on a helpless slave in her position. I wondered how weak he was.
"Is it true?" asked Boots.
"No," said the player.
"Aiii!" she wept, in misery.
"Speak," said Boots.
"I failed to kneel in the presence of free men," she sobbed. "I have spoken without permission. I stepped on the robes of a free man. I kicked dust upon them. I have been insolent."
"Continue," said Boots.
"I spilled water on a free man," she wept.
"Spilled?" asked Boots.
"I threw water on a free man," she sobbed.
"Is there anything else?" he asked.
"Master?" she asked.
"Surely you remember at least one more thing," he said.
"I lied to my master!" she sobbed, trembling. "I lied to my master!"
"And were these various things done inadvertently," asked Boots, "or deliberately?"
"Deliberately, Master," she sobbed.
Certain of these things, such as failing to kneel in the presence of a free man, may be regarded as a capital offense on the part of a Gorean slave girl, even if it is inadvertent. It intent is involved in such an omission, it can be an occasion for death by torture.
"Mercy, Master!" she cried.
"What shall be done with you?" asked Boots. "Shall you be sold for sleen feed? Shall we contrive exquisite tortures for you, say, cutting off bits of your body and cooking them, and forcing you to eat them, until from the loss of blood and tissue, you die, or should we bind you and sew you in a sack, your head exposed, with rabid urts, or shall we merely cut your throat swiftly, in disgust, and be done with it?"
"Please, Master," she wept, throwing herself to her belly before him, clutching at his ankle, putting her forehead down to his foot, "please, please, master!"
"Perhaps we should be merciful, sparing your miserable life," said Boots, angrily, "and just throw you on your belly under a wagon, your ankles up and projecting out through the spokes, tied there, in order that your fee6t may be cut off?"
She sobbed, lying before him.
"You are a frigid little slave, and worthless," he cried.
"Spare me, Master!" she begged. "I will become hot, dutiful and subservient!"
"What would be a suitable punishment, for a meaningless, nasty little slut like you?" he asked. "Death? A thousand lashes?"
"I beg to be permitted to become a perfect slave, in al things!" she w3ept.
"Who begs?" he demanded.
"Bina begs!" she wept. "Bina begs!"
"What does Bina beg?" he demanded.
"Bina begs to be permitted to become a perfect slave, in all things!" she wept.
"I know what I shall do," said Boots.
"Master!" she wept.
"I shall ask someone to decide what your punishment is to be," said Boots, "he whom you have most offended, our hooded friend, the player."
"NO, Master," she sobbed, "not he, please, not he!"
"Player?" asked Boots.
He looked down upon the prone slave.
She crawled suddenly to him, desperately, sobbing, and lay before him on her belly. She took his sandaled foot in her small hands and, putting her head down, placed it on her head. "Bina begs the forgiveness of master," she wept. "Bina is sorry. Bina lies on her belly before master! Bina is only a slave! Be kind to Bina! Please be kind to Bina!"
"The robes will dry," said the player. "I can clean them later."
"What is her punishment to be?" inquired Boots.
"The matter is unimportant," said the player. "I am not concerned with it. It is nothing."
Bina lay quietly, trembling, startled, beneath his foot.
"It is your recommendation, then," asked Boots, "that she be permitted to live?"
"Yes," he said.
"What punishments, in lieu of death, then, do you suggest for her?" asked Boots.
The player lifted his foot from her head, and stepped away from her, smoothing his robes. She put her head up, the palms of her hands in the dust, looking at him; then she again lowered her head, trembling.
"As I suggested," he said, "It is not an important matter. I am no longer concerned with it. It is, accordingly, acceptable to me that she go unpunished."
Bina sobbed with relief.
"It is not acceptable to me," said Boots, "that she go unpunished."
The girl looked suddenly, wildly, frightened, at Boots.
"She is yours," said the player. "You may, of course, do with her as you please."
"Kneel her, before me, Slave," said Boots.
"Swiftly the girl knelt before him.
"The player has shown you incredible mercy, girl," said Boots.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"I, on the other hand, shall not be so merciful," he said.
"Yes, Master," she whispered.
"Hear your punishment, slave," said Boots.
"Yes, Master," she whispered, trembling.
"First," said Boots, "you will surrender your slippers."
"Yes, Master," she said, delightedly, and, sitting down, slipped them from her feet. She then knelt again before him, and handed him the slippers. IN a different situation, of course, this might have constituted a suitable and humiliating punishment, involving a public reduction in her status, particularly before other girls. The removal of her footwear might have served to punish her for some flaw in her performance, such as a crookedly sewn seam or a poorly served meal, or might, say, have indicated some fall on her part from the favor of the master. Similar punishments can involve the changing of a woman's clothing or its removal altogether. In this situation, of course, such punishment, the removal of her right to footwear, was almost absurdly trivial. Indeed, most Gorean slaves are not permitted footwear at all. They are commonly kept barefoot.