I began with her wrists, and then I secured her ankles.
"Free yourself," I suggested.
She struggled. "I cannot," she said. She looked at me, frightened. "I am as helpless as a slave," she said.
I regarded her. She was extremely attractive.
"What are you doing?" she cried. My hands were at the string holding the cloth about her hips.
"I am going to lay aside your veil," I told her.
"No," she begged.
I undid the string.
"I shall cry out!" she threatened.
"Then it will only be necessary to gag you," I said.
"Please," she begged. "I have changed my mind! RElease me!"
"It is too late for htat," I said.
"Please," she pleaded.
"I am only human," I said.
"Please," she pleaded.
"No," I told her.
Then she lay back on the soft, broad straps, moaning. The cloth at her hips, now freed, ahd been brushed to the sides. No longer now between us lya the least impediment. She was now, as it is sometiems said on Gor, slvae naked.
She looked at me. I put down my head and began to kiss her, and lick her, slowly about the belly.
"Oh!" she said.
And in a few moments, she was trying to move her body beneath my mouth, trying to bring me to other positions on her body. Her movements were mute, helpless pleas.
"Ohhhh!" she said suddenly, softly.
"Now," I said, "you must restrain yourself. You must try not to move."
"I cannot hel myself," she said.
"It would be easy enough for me to desert you now," I said, "leaving you in the straps."
She moaned.
"You will not move now," I said, "until you receive permission."
"I will try," she said.
I then continued to lick and kiss at her, softly. She began to whimper and moan. I looked at her. Her eyes were wild, pleading. I put my hands on her belly. It was tense and hot, throbbing with blood and need. "Do not move," I told her.
"No," she said, "no!"
I then resumed my ministrations to her body. They were such as might be inflicted upon a woman who was no more than a slave.
"Please!" she whimpered, "Please! Please!"
"Very well," I said. "You may move."
She cried out and seemed to explode under me, sobbing with joy and helplessness. Then she looked at me wildly, still held in the straps, disbelief in her eyes. Then I entered her and took her, not gently. "Oh," she cried. "Master! Master!" Then again she lay back on the straps, helpless.
"I have business to attend to," I said. Indeed, I must soon make away from Port Kar.
"Tarry but a moment," she begged. She was in a position to do no more than beg, secured as she was.
I lay beside her and kissed her, and held her, for a moment.
"Thank you," she breathed.
"I think there is a slave in you," I said.
"I know. I know, Master," she whispered.
"Perhaps you should consider the collar," I said.
"Such thoughts are not new to me," she said. "I have had them for years."
"It must be a difficult choice for a woman," I said, "the choice between freedom and love."
I rose from the rack, and drew my robes about me.
"I have business to attend to," I said. I should soon leave the city. I adjusted my wallet.
"Yes, Master," she said.
I freed her from the flexible, efficient restraints, and helped her courteously from the rack.
"Thank you," she said. "You are very kind." I restrained her from kneeling. She was, after all, a free woman. "Was I pleasing?" she asked.
"That question seems more appropriate to a slave than a free woman," I said.
"I ask it," she said.
"Is it important to you?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
"Yes," I said. "You were pleasing."
"Wonderful!" she said.
"For a free woman," I added.
"Oh," she said.
"Certainly you did not think to be able to compete with a slave," I said. "You would not have her experience, her skills, her training. You have not been forced to live with and endure slave heat. You have not been forced to learn submission, obedience, service, passion and love. You have not yet been sensitized to her collar."
"Suppose I became a slave," she said. "Do you think I might become a pleasing slave?"
"You have generated a great deal of heat," I said. "That is an excellent sign."
"Do you think, in time, I might make an adequate slave?" she asked.
"Yes," I said, "and perhaps, in time, even a superb one."
"That is high praise," she smiled.
"You had better wear this," I said, handing her the brief bit of cloth which she had worn about her hips. "If men see you without it, they may be stimulated, and you may be raped several times on the tiles before you manage to leave the piazza. Many men are drunk here tonight and they may be careless. They may not think to chick your body for brands. You might be had before they determined their error."
Smiling, she tied the cloth about her hips.
"Farewell," said I, "Free Woman."
"Will I see you again?" she asked.
"It is not likely," I speculated.
"Do you wish to know my name?" she asked.
"No," I said, "nor is it needful for you to know mine."
"I see," she said.
"It was only a touching at carnival," I said.
"I see," she said.
"Happy carnival," I said.
"Happy carnival," she said. Then she turned about and, sobbing, fled away. I watched her go. Her body was hormonally rich. That was evident in the configuration of her beauty and in her dispositions and reflexes, exhibited on the rack. Too, she was profoundly feminine. She had now disappeared among the revelers. Her body, I though, would make the decision for her.
"I see that you have won the favor of a free woman," said a man.
"What?" I asked. I thought he referred to the free woman, she who had just disappeared among the revelers.
"That," he said, indicating the silken favor in the eyelet of my robes.
"Oh!" I said. "yes, it would seem so." I looked at the favor. I had forgotten it.
"Paga?" said he, extending his bota.
"Surely," I said. We exchanged swigs of paga.
"It must be ice to have won the favor of a free woman," he said.
"I and a few hundred other fellows," I said.
"That particular favor," he said.
"Alas," I said, "even there I fear I am but one of ten."
"One out of fifteen," he said.
"Oh?" I said.
"Yes," he said.
I shrugged. The game of favors can be played with any number of favors and contestants, but the usual number of favors distributed is ten.
"Happy carnival," he said.
"Happy carnival," I said.
I turned to proceed to the check point where I would turn in my numbered receipt and reclaim my weapons. The crowds had thinned now, but the piazza was till, for the most part, crowded.
I stumbled, and then straightened myself. Surely I had not had that much paga.
I took another step or two, and then I slipped to one knee. The piazza seemed to move beneath me. I caught my balance. I was conscious of masks and costumes swirling about.
"What is wrong?" asked a voice.
"He has had too much paga," said another voice.
I wanted to rise to my feet, but I slipped to the tiles.
"It is al right," said a voice.
Things began to grow dark. I fought to retain consciousness. It was difficult to move. I could not speak.