"I think that I myself and a friend," I said, "were captured by the same cab, the same devices." I recalled that the cab driver in the garage had said that he had anohter pickup to make that night. His next pickup, doubtless, had been the lovely, long-legged Miss Baxter."Did you get off work at two A.M." I asked. "Yes," she said, "How did you know?"
"I heard the pickup of someone referred to who got off work at two A.M.," I said. "Doubtless it was I," she said shuddering. "I think so," I said.
"Master speaks English fluently," she said apprehensively. Her hands twisted in the straps.
"Were you brought to the House of Andronicus, in Vonda?" I asked."Yes," she said, "where I was given rudimentary slave training and learned a smattering ofGorean.
I was sold in vonda to a taverner in Tancred's Landing. Tasdron saw me there and fancied me. He brought me here, where I now wearhis collar." She looked at me. "Is Master a slaver?" she asked. "No," I said. "How is it that Master speaks English?" she asked. "It is my native tongue," I said. "I was brought to Gor, rather accidentally, as a slave. I became free." "Master is cruel to tease a miserable slave," said the girl.
"How am I teasing you?" I asked puzzled. She laughed. "Do not expect me to believe that Master is a man of Earth," she said. "I am not a fool." "I am from the planet Earth," I said. "You are cruel to a miserable slave," she said. "Why do you not believe I am from Earth?" I asked puzzled.
"You are not pathetic and weak." she said. "And your eyes, they look at me and see me as a female slave."
I smiled. Indeed she was beautiful."The men of Gor," she said, "are strong. They are not weak and divided against themselves. They are not tortured. They are integrated and coherent, and proud. They see themselves in the order of nature. They see females as femals, as slaves and themselves as men, as Masters. If we do not please them they punish us, or slay us. We quickly learn our place in the order of things. Only where there are true men can there be true women.
"But you are a naked and collared slave," I said, "bound in a paga tavern." "I am a woman," she smiled,"something that I never was truly on Earth."
"I see," I said.
"We are small and weak and soft and beautiful," she said,"and we have dispositions to yield and to love and serve, selflessly. We long for masters. We cannot be fulfilled until we find them." She smiled. "And then on Gor," she said, "we look up and startled find them standing over us. The whip is in their hand. They will take no nonsense from us. It is any wonder we love them so?
"I was once from Earth," I said. "I find that hard to belive," she said. I shrugged.
"Look at me," she said. I grinned and she reddened. "What do you see," she asked, "an abused woman to be hastily freed or a slave tethered for a man's pleasure?" "A slave," I said, "tethered for aman's pleasure. "You see," she said, "you are Gorean."
"And as what do you see yourself," I asked, "as an abused woman, hoping to be hastily freed, or as a slave, tied to rings, who hopes her master will see fit to linger over her?"
"A slave," she smiled, "one fatened helplessly, tied to rings, who hopes that she will be found sufficiently pleasing that a master will see fit to linger oer her, driving her to a madness of imbonded joy."
"Do you wish to be freed?" I asked. "A woman such as I, on Gor," she laughed, "has no hope of freedom." I smiled. I did not doubt that. She had even been named Peggy. That name, an Earth-girl name, madeit perfectly clear that her master regarded her categorically and totally as a slave. It had been her name on Earth. Now, of course, she wore it as a slave name, by the decision of her master. Sles in their own right have no names. They are animals.
"But do you wish to be freed?" I asked. "No, Master," she said. "But you are a woman of Earth,"I said. "So, Master?" she asked puzzled. "Surely then you wish to be free?" I asked. "Why," she asked. "You are a woman of Earth," I said. "Do you think tht in the bellies of the females of Earth there does not lurk a true woman?" she asked. "I do no tknow," I said. "We are not men, really," she said. "You would be well advised not to say things like that on Earth." I said. "I know," she said. "On Earth, I did not speak the depths of my feelings. I did not dare. I did not wish to be criticized by men or by unhappy, frustrated women."
I nodded. the culural penalties inflicted on those who speak the truth can be severe. "I kept silent," she said, "and longed for a master." "Is not freedom precious?" I asked.
"I have been free," she said. "I know what it is like." "Is it not precious?" I asked. "Yes," she said, "It is precious, very precious. and sometimes I miss it very much. Sometimes I wish I were again free. Sometimes when I am chained aat night or whipped or commaned and must do things I do not wish to do, I wish I were again free. And sometimes, I am terribly afrid when I think of the power my masters have over me." "I see," I said.
"But then too, " she said. "I find myself exquisitely thrilled, and responsive to the very power, the force, the discipline, to which I am subject. To know that I am a slave and must obey fulfills something very deep in me."I see," I said. "Sometimes at night," she said, "I find myself almost without thinking about it, licking the bars of my cage, kissing the steel on my wrists."
"Do you fear your masters?" I asked. "Of course," she said, "they hold over me the power of life and death." "But yet, " I asked, "you find them terribly exciting?" "I find them terribly exciting," she said, "both emotionally and physically. I can scarcely be near them without catching my breath, without feeling slightly afraid and trembling.
"They own you," I said."Yes," she said. "When they look upon you, do you feel sexual heat?" I asked. "Often," she said. "and if they should snap their fingers and point to the floor," I asked. "Then I would swiftly lie before them, and as a slave," she said.
"You are eager to please them?" I asked. "Yes," she said," and I am their slave." She smiled at me. "Do these responses," she asked, "startle you, coming as they do from a woman once of Earth?" "There seems little in you now of Earth," I said.
"True," she smiled. She pulled at the tongs. "I am now only a Gorean slave girl," she said.I said nothing.
"The women of Earth are also women," she said. "Do not despise them for it. Accept them for what they are. There is nothing wrong with being a woman. It is the complementary sex to that of the male. It is nor our fault if, when placed in a proper contest, a biological context, in a biologically congenial civilization, we behave as we desire and must. Is your anger or dismay actually an envy of the Gorean brutes who throw was to their feet and put collars on our necks? Consider that. It may be true. Would you not like some delicious Earth woman as your total slave? If so, how are you so different from the brutes of Gor, who do with us as they wish? It is not our fault if, for whatever reasons, the men of Earth seem determined to turn us into men, and deny to ur our precious and ancient natures. It is hard to be a woman on Earth." She pulled again at the thongs. "But is is not hard, Master on Gor," she smiled. "Gorean men see to it."
"You are a slave," I said. "Are you happy?" "Yes," she said, "radiantly happy." "Why?" I asked.