"Please," she said, "Mercy!"
"Look at it this way," I said. "You lived off men, with very little recompense to them. You will now, in a sense, for the time being at least, merely continue doing that, that is, continue to receive your living from me, only now, as opposed to before, you will be doing something for it, indeed, a great deal. You are, at least, going to be good for something. Men, at long last, are going to get some food out of you."
"I am not a slave!" she said. "Oh!" she said.
"Before," I said, "men, in a sense, were subject to you. Now you are subject to them."
She moaned.
"You may move or not, as it pleases you," I informed her.
She writhed briefly, trying to reach back, but could not escape. She cried out in frustration, and then fear. She then lay extremely quiet."
"I am not a slave," she said.
"At least not a legal slave," I said.
She trembled, her entire body, interestingly, responding to these words. "a€”yet," I added.
Again her entire body, helplessly, wholistically, organically, spasmodically, responded.
"Please!" she begged. "Do not speak so."
The wholisticality of the female's response is an interesting one. Their response is a whole, physical, emotional and intellectual. Men have sex; women are sex.
"Why did you pay a tarsk bit for me?" she asked. "Why did you not pay for an inn girl? Were they too expensive? Could you have afforded one?" "I think so," I granted her. Thanks, of course, to the coins from the brigands' coin box, taken from them by the road, if nothing else, my finances were currently in excellent order.
"Then it was I, truly I, whom you wished delivered to your space," she whispered.
"Yes," I said.
"Why?" she asked.
"I thought you could use a little humbling," I said, "and a little informing as to the nature of your womanhood."
"I hate you!" she said. "I hate you!"
Her body seethed with hatred. It was pleasant.
"I am giving you pleasure, aren't I?" she asked, angrily.
"Yes," I said.
She then tried to hold herself absolutely still.
"Too," I said, "of course, I find you of sexual interest."
"Really?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"Do you think anyone else would?" she asked.
"Certainly," I said.
"Oh!" she said suddenly, softly. "Ohh!"
"You moved," I said.
"I am a free woman," she said, angrily. "Yet I am at the mercy of the keeper! I am a free woman! Yet I was made to serve at the tables! Now I have been delivered to a guest, as though I might be a slave!"
I was silent. I did not tell her that the most common thing that is done with debtor sluts is to sell them into slavery.
"Do you think that I will find another fool?" she asked.
"I do not know," I said.
"I must," she said. "I must! Else something terrible might happen." "What?" I asked.
"I might be sold to the collar," she said. "Then I would be a slave!" "If I were the keeper," I said, "Such would certainly be my decision." "What?" she said.
"I would sell you into slavery," I said.
"Never!" she said. "Never!" "You should be a slave," I told her.
"No! No!" she said.
"You are moving," I cautioned her.
She cried out in frustration.
Then she said. "Oh!"
Then she asked, "Are you going to make me yield?"
"Of course not," I said. "You are a free woman/"
"Be done with it!" she said.
But I chose, somewhat perversely perhaps, to take my time with her.
Afterwards she clung tightly to me. "Oh," she sobbed, softly. "Oh, oh." She seemed confused, frightened, bewildered, at what had been done to her, at what she had felt. I thought the keeper's man must be due soon.
"I yielded, did I not?" she asked, frightened. "Did I not yield?" The chain, its loose ends, the padlock, the small metal tarn tag, indicating she was in debt to the Crooked Tarn, clinked on her neck.
"In a manner of speaking," I said. She had actually done very well for a free woman, new to the handling of men who could do what they wished with her. The Lady Temione, though the thought might have horrified her, as she was a free woman, had unusually powerful female latencies. Subject to men and the whip I had little doubt she would become extremely passionate, and eventually, even helplessly so.
"You owe a silver tarsk, five," I mused.
"Are you thinking of redeeming me?" she asked.
"I was thinking about it," I said. I must try to gain admittance to Ar's Station. It was invested by Cosians, and mercenaries. I might have use for such as she.
"I would be afraid to be redeemed by you," she said.
"Why?" I asked.
"If you redeemed me," she said, "I would be in your total power. You would, in effect, own me."
"You are aware, of course," I said, "that you have, ultimately, no control over who redeems you, no more than a slave has, ultimately, any choice over who buys her."
"I know," she said.
I lay there, quietly, thinking. Yes, I thought, I might have use for a woman, or women, such as she.
"You took me like a she-tarsk," she said, poutingly. "You responded well to the taking," I said. "Perhaps it is fitting for you."
"You do not respect me," she said.
"You do not want to be respected," I said. "You want to be cherished, treasured, handled, abused, mastered, owned, subdued, forced to serve and love." She was silent.
"Someone is coming," I said. "Do you hear him, on the stairs?"
"No," she said.
"He is on the first landing now," I said. I sat up. "It is a male," I said. "I hear him now," she said, after a moment or two. "Oh!"
I had turned her to her belly, on the blanket, spread over the boards.
"My wrists!" she protested.
They were then thonged. I had drawn them behind her, and held them together there, crossed, with my left hand. With my right I had removed the restraint from her left wrist. A moment later she was bound. Originally, I had assumed it was the keeper's man, but the tread, now, seemed heavier. Lady Temione rose to her right elbow, her hands tied behind her. I thought I must know who it was. I glanced at the space next to me. He had arrived at the inn later than I, I supposed, as he had eaten later. If that was the case it was not at all unlikely that he might have been rented the space after mine. If so, that might make things a great deal easier. I would not even have to search him out, in the darkness. There was a fellow slumbering in space 99, in the corner. He must have come to the inn rather early, I supposed, to obtain one of the four coveted corner spaces. If the fellow coming up the steps was indeed who I expected it was, and had rented the space near me, and if things proceeded as I expected, I thought I might be able to enlist the support of the fellow in the corner. The second portion of my plan required a confederate.
"Ai!" I heard someone cry, a few yards away, near the entrance. The newcomer, it seemed, had had some paga, perhaps a second or third kantharos. I wondered if he had paid for them. I heard another cry of rage. There was then a blow. The newcomer continued on, somewhat unsteadily. Another guest cried out, angrily, and rose up. He backed away a step, however, when he saw that he did not come up to the newcomer's shoulder. Then the newcomer beckoned he should come forward. Frightened, he did so. Then the newcomer suddenly, without warning, doubled him with a blow to the gut, and he sank, groaning to his place. Another fellow half rose up, and another blow was struck, and the fellow fell back, to the side. Another fellow said something to the newcomer and the newcomer's sword half emerged from its sheath, and the other fellow rolled back, away, quickly, feigning sleep. The sword slammed back into the sheath. Two men moved at the noise. I saw the free woman, whom I had gagged and trussed, to whose clothing I had addressed the attentions of her own knife, which I had taken from her, and later destroyed and thrown away, lying very still. She was absolutely helpless, and her clothing, so cut and divided, could be lifted aside to anyone's convenience. It was no wonder she did not dare to move. I wondered what her thoughts might be, so helpless and vulnerable in her femaleness. Doubtless, disarmed and helpless, her beauty at anyone's convenience, her weakness manifested, she now knew herself much better than she had before. Sometimes such experiences help women understand that they are women. In a moment or two the newcomer was at the space, 98, next to mine. He looked down, angrily. I was pleased to see that he still carried the pouch.