“But she may escape, Master!” I had said.
“Do you think there is an escape for you?’ he had asked.
“For me, Master?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said.
“No, Master,” I said.
“Why is there no escape for you?” he asked.
“Because I am a slave girl, Master,” I said.
“Lady Constanzia,” he said.
“Yes?” she said.
“You wear a single garment, a slave tunic, and are collared,” he said. “Do you think there is an escape for you?”
“No,” she said.
“Why not?” he asked.
“Because,” she said, “I am as a slave girl.”
“Today,” he had said, “it is you who will hold the leash.”
“As you wish,” she had said, puzzled, startled, “-Master.”
Oh yes, I think there was a lesson involved, but I think, too, that the pit master had thought the whole thing rather amusing. It was not that he did not like me. Indeed, I think he was quite fond of me. It was, rather, I think, that he had been somewhat irritated with, or, at least, had entertained certain reservations with respect to, my treatment of the Lady Constanzia and, indeed, of the “slave,” Tuta. His punishment of me then, it seems, would be this little joke. Had I been a bit arrogant, a bit vain? Then let me be reminded that anything could be done to me, and that I was only a slave. Does a slave require to be humbled? Men such as those on this world are skilled in doing so. Quickly they bring us to our knees. Quickly they remind us of our collars.
“Now,” said the Lady Constanzia, regarding me, “let us do what we discussed.”
The fellow with her drew forth from his pouch a lock gag. I had worn one only once, in training.
I pressed my head back, against the stone of the wall. I could not pull away from the slave ring, as I was leashed closely to it.
I made a tiny noise of protest as the leather pad, a part of the device, was thrust in my mouth. In a moment, with small adjustments, the entire device, of leather and metal, was fitted to me. It was then locked shut. I looked up at them, reproachfully.
The curved metal bars, well back between the teeth, where they cannot be slipped, holding the wadding in place, close behind the back of the neck. To these same bars, in front, is attached the binding. This binding is of thick, supple leather; it fits snugly, closely, to the contours of a girl’s face and mouth; it had been drawn back, tight, on me; that is the way such things are worn; on the outside it is covered with hinged metal plates.
It also, like the curving bars, goes behind the back of the neck. The whole then, the wadding bar, anchored deeply behind the teeth, holding the wadding in place, and the binding, with its protective plates, is secured with a single thrust lock. That had now been done.
I looked up at them.
How pleased was the Lady Constanzia!
They heavy wadding, or packing, was in my mouth, attached to the bar between my teeth. The binding was fastened tightly about my face; I could hardly move my lips within it; I tried to speak but could not, of course, even begin to do so.
They seemed amused.
I knelt there, I was well silenced; I was quite helpless.
I was in lock gag.
One of the advantages of the lock gag is that the girl cannot remove it, any more than a collar. She may thus serve in it with her hands free. To be sure, if the girl is disciplined, such a device is not necessary. An ordinary gag, which she is forbidden to touch, will suffice. Indeed, she may be simply “gagged by the master’s will,” and thus be forbidden to speak, even to beg permission to speak. There are various utilities of lock gags, which we need not note. One might observe, however, that they are occasionally useful with free female captives or even hysterical slaves. One utility which should be noted, particularly as I suspect that it may have been of interest to the Lady Constanzia and the fellow with her, is that, as the gag, with its plates and such, cannot be removed without a key or tool, it cannot be, say, conveniently undone, or cut away, by anyone who might wish to make inquiries of the captive or slave. A free man, thus, could not easily inquire of me, until the gag had been undone, the whereabouts of, say, a pretty slave and a fellow not of the city, a stranger, one clad in scarlet.
The Lady Constanzia, now that I was gagged, loosened the leash at the ring, so that my head was no longer bound back tightly to the ring. I might now sit at the ring, or kneel near it, or even lie beneath it.
“Do not go away, Janice,” she said. “I love you!” She then kissed me and arose, and beamed down on me, she with her hand on the arm of the scarlet-clad fellow. “We are going to have a wonderful day in the city!” she said. “We are going to go everywhere! We are going to see everything! We are going to eat! I will bring you back something, if he permits me.”
I looked up at them.
“It would be nice if you could come along,” she said, “only that that would not really be nice. I want to be alone with him. We would rather be together, alone. You understand.”
She then kissed her finger tips and touched the side of my face.
“You will stay here now, and wait for us, won’t you, Janice?” she said.
I looked up at her.
Then I shrank back, for I saw a sudden sternness in the eyes of the male.
Swiftly I whimpered once, in affirmation. I knew the signals. Had my response been quick enough? I saw him draw back his hand.
“No, do not strike her!” cried the Lady Constanzia. “She is my friend!”
He then, angrily, took the Lady Constanzia by the hair and bent her backwards, exhibiting the bow of her beauty. She winced, crying out with pain. “Master will do, of course, as he pleases!” she cried. “Forgive me, Master! But I beg you not to hurt her, for she is my friend.” He released her hair and she knelt before him and seized his leg, looking up at him. “Please do not hurt her,” she begged.
He looked at me. “Do you beg forgiveness?” he asked.
Quickly I whimpered once, and put my head down to the stones.
“And you,” he asked, addressing himself to the Lady Constanzia, “do you beg forgiveness?”
“Yes, Master,” she said.
When I looked up, I saw her kissing his feet. This startled me, as it was the first time I had seen the Lady Constanzia at a man’s feet thusly. How fervently, how humbly, how submissively, she kissed his feet! Did she think he was her master? Did she not recollect that she was a free woman? How like a slave she looked at his feet, how like a beautiful, submissive slave!
“You are both forgiven,” he said.
“Thank you, Master!” breathed the Lady Constanzia. He then turned about.
She leaped to her feet, to run beside hi.
“Do you not know how to heel a man?” he asked.
Instantly she knelt.
“You need whip-training,” he said.
“I would,” she said, softly, “that you were my master, and would whip-train me!”
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing, Master,” she whispered.
“Is there no word as to when you will be put up for sale?” he asked.
“No, Master,” she whispered.
His eyes clouded. I doubted that he could long remain in the city.
Then he said, “Let us enjoy the day.”
She leaped up, and kept her distance, waiting for him to turn about, that she might heel him.
He put out his hand to her, gently. “You may heel me another day,” he said. “Today, come, walk with me.”
Eagerly then, happily then, she took his arm. He seemed tall and stalwart, she, beside him, so small, so soft, so lovely.
Then they began to cross the terrace, together, she looked up at him, her hand on his arm.