Eta piled several of the hot, tiny eggs, earlier kept fresh in cool sand within the cave, on a plate, with heated yellow bread, for him. I, grasping the pot with a rag and both hands, poured him a handled, metal tankard of the steaming black brew, coffee or black wine.
Following Eta's example, to my pleasure, we prepared ourselves plates and cups. We then, while waiting for the men, ate. As long as a male had taken the first bite, the first drink, at the meal, apparently there was little objection to our also partaking. We did so with gusto. Gorean amenities are more carefully observed, usually, at the evening meal, which is more of a gathering and an occasion than the other two or three meals of the day. At an evening meal Eta and I would, under threat of discipline, wait before eating until the master, and each of his men, had begun. We did not, commonly, however, provided it did not interfere with our service, wait until the men had completed their meal before commencing ours. We, thus, finished nearly with them, or a bit before. Thus, after we had cleared goblets, and bowls and dishes, if they were used, we were soon ready, unimpeded, to devote our attentions to the serving of wine and paga, or our bodies for their pleasure, were they desired. To indicate the greater significance of the evening meal, as compared to the other Gorean meals, no slave girl may touch it without first having been given permission, assuming that a free man or woman, even a child, is present. "You may feed, Slave Girl," is a common way in which this permission is given. If the permission is not given, the girl may not eat. Should the master or mistress, or child, forget to give this permission, it is merely the misfortune of the slave girl.
As the men came to breakfast we extended them obeisance and served them.
When my master came to the cooking fire it was with eagerness, such eagerness that the men laughed, that I knelt before him, and put my hair in the dirt between his sandals.
I remembered the night. Well had he taught me the meaning of my brand! I so loved him!
He gestured me to my feet. I sprang up. I stood straight before him, proud in the pleasure I had given him. From the looks of the men I understood that now I stood much differently than I had when I had come to the camp, that the girl who now stood slave within the wall of thorn brush was far more valuable than she who had so recently miserably stood captive beyond its perimeter. The looks of the men told me that I was now more desirable, more beautiful. I know I should have objected to this, that I should have resented it intensely. Yet how fantastically weak and joyous and alive and happy it made me feel!
My master, crouching down, examined the slave flower on my thigh. I did not dare touch him. I trembled. He straightened up. He seemed satisfied, and this much relieved me. I wished him to be pleased, not only with his slave, but with her brand. Eta examined the brand, too, and smiled, and hugged and kissed me. I gathered that the brand was an excellent one. I hugged and kissed her, too, weeping. She permitted me to serve the master, and I did so, delightedly. I watched him like a hawk, that I might anticipate his slightest desire.
One of the men, obviously, as his looks and gesture indicated, asked him about me; My master responded, chewing. They looked at me. I was the object of their discussion. I did not speak Gorean, but I reddened, and put my head down. Gorean masters commonly speak frankly and openly of the qualities of their girls, even before the girls themselves. My features, figure and performances were being candidly discussed and appraised. The sexuality, qualities and capacities, and skills, of a slave girl, not a free woman, are discussed on Gor with the same openness that men on Earth might bring to the discussion of paintings and music, and that Englishmen of the Nineteenth Century might have brought to the discussion of dogs and horses.
I gathered that I, in many ways, left much to be desired. I felt small and helpless.
My master extended to me his metal tankard. Gratefully I filled it again with the steaming black wine.
He was kind. He was permitting me to serve him. I looked at him. Were there to be no secrets between us? Were my defects, my helplessness, and the completeness of my surrender to him, to be broadcast so publicly? In his eyes I read that my questions were out of place. In his eyes I read that I was slave.
I lowered my eyes, and withdrew, the tankard filled, a slave girl.
It was with joy, later in the morning, that I felt, thrown against my body by my master, a bit of brown cloth. It was a sleeveless body scrap, a shred of slave rag. It was a few threads, fit for a bond girl. Yet I welcomed it as I might have a gown, with gloves and pearls, from Paris. Now I might not be so revealed to the men. It was the first clothing I had been given on Gor. Radiant was my gratitude to him, and abundant were the kisses which, in joy, I placed about his legs and feet. Joyfully I drew on the garment, slipping it over my head, and fastened it, more tightly about me, by the two tiny hooks on the left. The slit made the garment, a rather snug one, easier to slip into; the two hooks, when fastened, naturally increased the snugness of the garment, drawing it quite closely about the breasts and hips; deliciously then, from the point of view of a man, the girl's figure is betrayed and accentuated; also, the two hooks do not close the slit on the left completely, but permit men to gaze upon the sweet slave flesh pent, held captive, within; such a garment, of course, when a man grows weary of having his vision obscured, is easily torn away. I turned before my master, proud in my new riches. He indicated to Eta where the garment must be taken in, the hooks placed subtly differently. As it was the garment was too large for me. Eta was a larger woman. It was one of her cast-offs. The garment would be altered, that I would be as well revealed by it as Eta was by hers. The attire of Gorean slave girls is of great importance to their masters. They concern themselves with its tiniest details. The clothing, you see, as well as the girl, belongs to the master; it is natural for him, thus, to take an interest in it; both, in their diverse ways, can be reflections upon him, his taste, his judgment, his discrimination. That a male of Earth may not even know what clothing his wife owns, or what she buys, would be unthinkable to most Goreans, even those who stand in free companionship. To the master it would simply be preposterous. What his girl wears, if she is to wear anything, is of great interest to him. After all, she is not a wife; she is much more important: she is a prized possession. The clothing she wears, any cosmetics or jewelry, or perfume, must be absolutely perfect. He is in, so to speak, on everything. Should she tie her hair with as little as a new ribbon, it must pass his strict inspection. If it is not «right» for her, she will not be permitted to wear it. That a wife might wear a new dress and her husband not even notice it would be incredible, if not incomprehensible, to any Gorean, whether a proprietor or a companion. In short, Gorean masters concern themselves closely with their girls. Clothing, like other matters, is quite important. It must be perfect for its purpose. Its purpose may be to humiliate or brazenly and publicly display the girl, to discipline her, to keep her humble, to remind her she is nothing, only a wench in bondage; it may be to reveal her beauty, of which he is proud, for the eyes of all, or for his own pleasure and that of his peers; it may be to reveal his wealth, the value in girl and raiment which he owns; it may be to augment his prestige, or to incite envy in others; it may be to stimulate her with beautiful things; it may be to excite her sexually, and so on. These purposes, of course, are not all incompatible. Clothing, too, it might be mentioned, like food, is a useful instrument in controlling the girl. Few girls, for example, enjoy being sent nude to the market, to do shopping.
My master drew out his knife. I shuddered, but dared not run. I closed my eyes. I felt him cutting at the garment's hem. He made it scandalously short. It had been a garment of Eta's measured high, but to her own longer legs. Now I scarcely dared move in it.
At a gesture from my master I knelt. I did so in the manner m which I had been taught, back on my heels, back straight, hands on thighs, head high, chin up. I did not neglect a further detail. I spread my knees, widely. It was the position, of course, as I would later learn, of the Gorean pleasure slave. I had seen Eta naturally, unconsciously, assume it when she knelt. Such a girl, in kneeling, does not close her knees before a free man. Any slave girl, incidentally, addresses any free man as Master, any free woman as Mistress, though only one, of course, at a given time, is likely to be her true Master or Mistress.