“She is a slave, Master,” I said.
“Is slave dance danced on your world?” he asked.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“Did you understand the meaning of slave dance on your old world?” he asked.
“I think so, Master,” I said. Here, on this world, of course, there was no doubt as to what its meaning was.
“Do many woman dance slave dance on your world?” he asked.
“Not many,” I said.
“Why not?” he asked.
“They are afraid to be so beautiful before men,” I said.
“They are afraid to be women?”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“Were you afraid?”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“That is unutterably stupid,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
He regarded me. “You are a woman, I assure you,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“Do you object?” he asked.
“No, Master,” I said.
“Do you want to be a woman?” he asked.
“I am a woman,” I said.
“But do you want to be a woman?” he asked.
“Feel?” I said.
“Yes,” he said.
“I love being a woman,” I said.
“Good,” he said.
Until I had been brought here I had not understood what a marvelous, glorious, wonderful thing it was to be a woman. To be sure, I had learned this, as perhaps one must, in bondage. A female slave, you see, is not permitted to deny her sex. Only here, for the first time in my life, had I found it possible to fulfill my sex. Indeed, here I had no choice in the matter. I must fulfill it, wholly and irreservedly. It was no wonder then that, in spite of the dangers in which I might stand, I was so joyful.
He rose from the edge of the divan and picked up the length of chain looped beside it. This chain was some seven feet in length. There was a lock clip at one end and a collar at the other. I lay there. He made me wait for the collar. By means of the lock clip he fastened the chain to a ring fixed in the divan, one near the floor, on the right, as one faced the divan. He then took the chain about the head of the divan and there, at one point, placed a link over a stout hook, part of an integral slide-ring mounted there. In this way, it was, in effect, as though the chain was mounted at the head of the divan, but, ultimately, on a long chain, run from the side ring. This is a convenience in chaining for masters. One need not, then, locking and unlocking them, spend a great deal of time changing chains. The amount of chain allotted to me from the hook would be about three feet, and from the side ring, if the chain were freed of the hook, about seven feet. There were various rings and hooks about the divan, permitting a large degree of flexibility in custodial and pleasure arrangements. The slave is commonly prohibited from touching the slide-rings and, in the event, remains attached to the divan, by means of the longer chain. Also, of course, the slide-rings may not be available to her, depending on how she is secured, what she can reach, the number of chains, and so on. As an analogy, it would be quite easy for a girl to unbuckle certain sorts of leather wristlets and anklets, but if she is unable to reach the buckles, as, for example, if she is spread-eagled between rings, she is as helpless as if she were held by locked steel. Slide-rings, too, it might be mentioned, can be locked shut, either with their own locks, or, more commonly, with external clip locks. He then put the collar about my neck, and closed it. I was then chained by the neck to the divan, held about a yard from the slide-ring at the head of the divan, and held, ultimately, by the lock clip, to the side ring.
He stood beside the divan. He looked down upon me.
“Your not a trained dancer, of course,” he said.
“No, Master,” I said.
“Yet,” said he, “I did not find your dance displeasing.”
“The slave is grateful if she has not been found entirely displeasing,” I whispered.
“I am now going to have you, Earth woman,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
I was well had and soon screamed my submission and my begging for more. His least touch, that of a master, set me on fire. Occasionally he tortured me, as it amused him, bringing me to the point of yielding, and then desisting, as I writhed, pleading, before hi, lifting my body, begging for relief, for mercy. Four times he roared, laughing within me, as I clutched him. In the manner of these men with their slaves, almost in moments, I had been made wholly his. Numerous times, sweating in my collar, I yielded.
The minimalities, the tepidities, accepted by men of Earth in their females were not, by men such as these, permitted to us.
They choose to own us, wholly.
Then, though I clutched him still, he wearied of me.
He undid the chain from the slide-ring at the head of the divan and thrust me from the divan to the floor. I looked up at him, above me, from the tiles.
“You will sleep there tonight,” he said.
Tears came to my eyes.
“I may want you again, toward morning,” he said.
I looked up at him.
“Turn about,” he said, “so that you lie with your head toward the foot of the couch.”
I rose to all fours, and turned about, and then lay down on the tiles, on my left side, so that I might face the divan. The chain was on my neck, holding me to the divan.
I drew my legs up.
He tossed me a sheet. I gratefully clutched it about me. I then lay there, huddled in the sheet, on the tiles, my head toward the bottom of the divan.
He was soon asleep.
I lay there for a long time, trying to understand my feelings.
But, too, it seemed, this last time, he had too soon finished with me.
He had wearied of me and then thrust me from him, before I had completed.
I squirmed a little, and moaned softly.
He did not hear me, for he was asleep. And, if he had heard me, he might have ordered me to silence. Or perhaps kicked or beaten me.
I had seen two other girls as I had entered. They had then slipped away. I had no doubt that, in this place, they would be prize slaves, not ignorant girls from the pits. How I envied the, serving in their light silks in a place such as this. Might I not be able, sometime, to so serve, in some such place? Was I so inferior to them? Could I not serve wine, and tend to the cleaning, and polish silver, as well as they? How much better to be slave in a place such as this than in the pits! And how much better, too, I thought, might it be to be merely the slave of a quiet, simple man, not even a rich one, and serve him, and keep his compartments, and love him. I wondered where the slave, Dorna, was, whom I had met on the surface of the tower. I wondered if she sometimes lay here, beside the divan, as I. I wondered if she was kenneled tonight. I did not think she would be pleased, if she learned who it was who now lay here, beside the divan.
I then fell asleep.
Toward dawn I awakened.
I lay there on the tiles. A bit of light crept into the room from the window and porch.
I heard him stirring.
I lay there, tensely. It would be he who would decide what was to be done.
He stood up, beside the divan. He lifted me in his arms, and turned me about, so that my head was toward the head of the divan. He then, with a rattle of chain, flung me upon it.
He must have slept well.
He was indeed refreshed!
But his day would doubtless be a busy one. He was an important man. He would have much planned. He had little time now for a slave. He was quick with me. But I had been restless during the night, it had almost been as though I had been waiting for him, hoping for him. My response was grateful, almost instantaneous. But then he was done with me. He thrust me from the surface of the divan, to my knees, beside it. I was grateful for whatever crumbs or morsels I had been thrown. He unlocked the collar from my throat. I was free now of the divan. “Fetch the street sandals,” he said, indicating a pair of sandals across the room. I went to all fours and crawled to the sandals, and picked them up in my teeth, and, on all fours, brought them back to him, and dropped them at his feet. I had been taught to fetch sandals in the pens.