“Tuta,” said he, “was right-thigh branded!”
“No,” said she. “You assumed that because in certain rags permitted to me you could see only my left thigh, and, it not being marked, you inferred, I thought to be a slave, that I was right-thigh marked.”
He stared at her, in disbelief.
“I trust that master does not object to a left-thigh-marked girl,” she said.
“No, no,” he said. “I am right-handed. I prefer it.”
“Good,” she said.
“You were the Lady Constanzia?”
“Until this morning, and scarcely an Ahn ago, when I was, by order of the house of William, in Harfax, branded and collared.”
“Why did you not tell me you were free?” he asked.
“I must appear as a slave,” she said. “And you did not tell me who you were either!”
“Of course not,” he said. “What business would it have been of yours? I thought you were a mere slave.”
“Yes, Master,” she said, happily.
“My Tuta!” he said, beside himself with elation.
“No, my name is Constanzia,” she said. “That is the name which has been given to me by my master!”
“Should you not have told me you were free?” he asked.
“But would you have then related to me, would you have felt free to do so, would you have even approached me, would you have considered me? I wanted you to relate to me. I wanted you to approach me. I wanted you to like me. Thus I wanted you to see me not as what I was, in some legal sense, a free woman, but as what I was in my heart, what I had come to long to be, as a full woman, as one who, in the order of nature, belongs to men, as one who, in the order of nature, is a man’s slave.”
“And so I saw you,” he said.
“And appropriately, my master,” she whispered.
“Surely you should have told me you were free,” he said.
“No, Master,” she said.
“Why?” he asked.
“When I was near you,” she said, “I was not free. When I was near you, I was a slave.”
They kissed.
“The first moment I laid eyes on you,” she said, “I wanted to be your slave.”
“And I,” he said, “from the first moment I saw you, I wanted you in my collar.”
“It is in your collar I am now,” she whispered.
“How can you have been Constanzia of Besnit?” he demanded.
“Forget that cold, greedy, proud woman,” she begged, “think now only of the slave in your arms, who would die for you.”
“The Lady Constanzia of Besnit,” he said, “muchly wronged my house.”
“She is now your slave,” she said. “Do with her as you will.”
“I must take you back to Harfax,” he said.
“I heel my master with love,” she said.
“I must, by oath, throw you naked and in chains to the feet of my father.”
“Do so,” she said. “I beg it.”
“Your life will not be easy in the house,” he said.
“I am a slave,” she said. “We do not expect our life to be easy.”
“What am I to do with you?”
“It is my hope that my master will do with me as he pleases.”
“I love you,” he said.
“And I love you, too, my master,” she said.
“Tuta!” said he.
“Constanzia,” she said.
“You will answer quickly enough to either,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said happily.
There was a sound behind the portal to one side, that through which the clerk and the guards had earlier entered, bringing with them the slave.
Henry looked quickly toward the portal.
She looked over her shoulder, too. Frustration crossed her lovely features.
“I would serve you!” she said.
“Serve me?” he said.
“Surely master knows what to do with a slave,” she said.
He threw her then to her back on the tiles. “Spread your legs, slave,” he said.
“Yes, my master!” she said, delightedly.
I heard another sound behind the portal. The clerk, I gathered, had returned. The pit master, with the two pit guards, and I, of course, were waiting for him.
“Shameless,” said the pit master to me, regarding the pair, she in his arms, on the scarlet circle.
“Yes, Master,” I said, happily.
“Yet doubtless he should try the slut out,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“I wonder how she will do as a slave,” he said.
I considered the pair. She was gasping in his arms, head back, eyes closed.
“Excellently, I conjecture, Master,” I said.
“She looks well, naked, in her collar,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“She belongs in it,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“Ai! Aiiii!” cried Henry.
“Oh, my master! My master!” cried the slave.
Then she wept, pulling at the binding fiber, “I cannot hold you! I cannot hold you!”
He then knelt beside her, and lifted her to a half sitting position in his arms.
Her head and hair were back, hanging down. Her body was gorgeous with color, a mottled scarlet tapestry. Her nipples were tightly pointed.
“It seems you will do as a slave,” he said.
“I desire only to serve and pleased my master,” she said.
He gasped, trying to regain his breath. He put her to her back on the scarlet circle. He, kneeling, looked down upon her.
“I love you,” he said.
“And I love you, my master,” she said.
Then suddenly, without warning, he seized her ankles and thrust them cruelly apart.
“You are a slave,” he reminded her.
“Yes, Master,” she said. “Do with me as you will.”
“Ah!” she cried.
It took him longer with her this time, and, then, in a few minutes, he stood up, unsteadily.
She looked up at him. “The slave would be grateful if her master were pleased with her,” she said.
“The master is pleased with her,” he said.
“The slave is grateful,” she said.
The portal leading from the chamber opened and the clerk stepped though, taking in, in a glance, the slave, naked on the tiles, and her master standing over her. He did not seem surprised.
Sir,” said he. “The court must conduct further business.”
“We are leaving,” said Henry, he of the house of William, in Harfax.
The clerk withdrew, presumably to return shortly.
She stretched a little, and lifted one knee, rather saucily, rather provocatively, I thought. “Do you think that I may do as a slave, truly?” she asked.
“It is possible,” he said.
“And how do I compare to your Tuta?” she asked.
“There seems little to choose between you,” he said.
“But how could I compare with her?” she asked. “I am too unlike her!”
“Not as unlike as you think,” he said.
“I am only as a moon to her sun,” she pouted, “only as a tarsk-bit, and a shaved on, to her gold.”
“Perhaps it was a mistake to remove your gag,” he said.
“In your mind, compared to her, I could be only as nothing,” she said.
“Be silent,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Master?” she asked. For he had drawn a knife from his robes.
“Kneel,” he said.
She did so.
He then went behind her and cut the remains of the outer robe of concealment away from her bound wrists.
“What are you doing?” he asked, for she had lifted her bound wrists out, away from her body, lifting them up, toward him.
“Are you not going to sever the binding fiber?” she asked.
“What is wrong with it?” he asked. “Does it not bind you perfectly?”
“It does bind me perfectly,” she assured him. “I am quite helpless in it.”
“Then,” said he, “it will remain as it is, until I might be pleased to remove it.”
“Oh,” she said.
“Do you understand, Constanzia, Tuta-Constanzia?” he asked.
“Yes, Master,” she said. “We understand.”
The leash still dangled from her neck.