He moved, slightly.
And then suddenly there was a different helplessness, one which seemed for an instant to recognize, and then flee in terror before what could not be stopped. And then it was as though it stood to the side in awe.
I clutched him!
It was the yielding, and that of one of my kind!
Again and again I wept and sobbed.
No longer did I then, in those moments, care for the danger, or whether I cried out, or if he cried out, or about the guards, or who might enter the garden! Nothing mattered, nothing was real but the felling, the sensations of the moment!
I only then became aware of the might of him, too, as though molten, charged and flooding, within me.
I held to him.
He looked down at me.
My surrender, I gather, had been found satisfactory.
I did not want him to let me go, but, too, I was terrified now. We were in the garden!
I tried to pull back, a little bit. Did he not know the danger?
He pulled the wet silk from my mouth. He lifted it a little, to the side, and the folds fell out, and he dropped it to the grass, beside us.
I was helpless, of course, pinioned. And then, again, he had both his arms about me.
I could not now understand his expression, as he looked down upon me.
“In the house, were you first trained,” he said, “did those there speak as I do?”
I could not move. I was helpless in his arms.
I wanted to flee, and yet, too, I wanted to remain here, held. He had had me, and now was interrogating me. What was his intent regarding me? How much at his mercy I was! Clearly his interest in me was more than a fancy of a moment, a whim in a garden. I was frightened. He had put me to his pleasure almost casually because I was there, a matter of convenience. But his primary interest in me, I was certain, went well beyond the gratification and entertainment, slyly stolen, he might derive from one of a garden’s casually encountered, exquisitely figured, frightened, helplessly responsive flowers. I had been put to his pleasure almost as a matter of course. Now that he had done with me, he returned to his questions. Well then was I reminded of my own triviality and meaninglessness.
How helpless we are!
“They spoke the language,” I said. Here when one spoke of “the language” it was well understood what language was meant. Of course, those where I was trained spoke “the language.” They were not barbarians. It was I who was the barbarian.
“No,” he said. “I mean their accents.”
“They spoke the language differently,” I said.
“Did you recognize their accents?” he asked.
“No,” I said.
To be sure, I had heard such accents here and there, after having left the pens, and had heard them even, sometimes, though rarely, outside the wall, but I did not know what accents they might be. Indeed, I had heard a variety of diverse accents on this world.
My fears flooded back, again, upon me. What could be his interest in such matters?
“Turn your head from side to side,” he said.
I obeyed, held, frightened.
“Your earrings are pretty,” he said.
They were tiny, and of gold. They matched the bangles, the armlet, the bracelets.
“They contrast very nicely with the darkness of your hair,” he said.
I looked up at him, pleadingly.
I did not understand him.
Of course he knew I was a pierced ear girl, with all that that, on this world, implied. He would have known that before he had ordered me to disrobe.
He must release me!
No, he must continue to hold me, if only for a moment!
No, no, he must release me!
We were in the garden!
Did he not realize the danger?
“Where your ears pierced when you can to our world,” he asked.
“No,” I said.
“They were pierced in the pens?” he asked.
“No,” I whispered.
There was, at the pens in which I was first trained, I had learned, an additional charge for that, as there would have been for the piercing of the septum, permitting the insertion of a nose ring.
“Where were they pierced?” he asked.
“Not there!” I said.
He looked down at me.
“I do not know what you want,” I wept. “I am not special,” I protested. “I am not different from thousands of others.”
He drew back a little, and surveyed me. “Do not underestimate yourself,” he said. “You would bring a quite good price.”
I regarded him, in anguish.
“But, essentially,” he said, “what you say is true. You are, in your essentials, in what you are, no different from thousands of others.”
“Please let me go!” I begged.
“But that would have been to have been expected,” he said.
“Please,” I begged.
“Ah!” he said, suddenly.
But I had not meant to excite him!
But then again I felt him surgent within me and found myself again, even as I heard approaching voices, put to his purposes.
I then clung again to him, sobbing, helpless.
Did he not know the danger?
He looked at me, suddenly, fircely. “Are you Janice?” he asked.
“I am Gail!” I said. “Gail!”
“Have you ever been called Janice?” he asked.
“No!” I said.
“Are you lying?” he said.
“No!” I said.
“Do you know the penalties for one such as you who lies?” he asked.
“Yes!” I moaned.
“But you are not lying?”
“No!” I said.
“Do you know a girl, one of your sort, who is called ‘Janice’?”
“No!” I wept. I had been told how I must respond to such questions, if they were asked.
“Have you ever been to the city of Treve?” he asked.
“No! No!” I said. I had been warned of the possibility of such questions. I had been instructed as to how to respond. To be sure, it had not seemed likely to me, nor, I think, to those who had instructed me, that I would ever find myself in a situation in which I might be expected to respond to such inquiries. How could such matters be of interest to anyone? Why should such information be regarded as sensitive, or confidential? These things made no sense to me. I understood nothing of them. Perhaps those who had instructed me were mad. I knew nothing of interest or importance of anyone. I was not important. I was not special. I was no different from thousands of others, save, perhaps, in being such that I might, in certain situations, bring a higher price then certain others.
I looked up at him.
Let him not concern himself with such things!
I was only what I was, nothing more.
But might not that suffice, for the little that I might be worth?
I, his, in his arms, was in the garden. I was confused, frightened at his questions. But, too, I was shaken, with my sensations and myself. I had found myself, one such as I, once again put deliberately, and with perfection, to the pleasure of one such as he. My station, my condition, was unmistakable. I had been reminded, clearly, in no uncertain terms, of what I was. I lifted my lips timidly to his, gratefully, hoping to be permitted to touch them.
How hard they seemed, how soft mine!
Then eagerly, helplessly, gratefully, for there was time, there must be time, did I, my head lifted, kiss again and again at his lips, his face, his shoulders, his body.
Then I heard a voice, that of the one who was first amongst us, near, almost at hand.
I uttered a tiny cry of misery, and tried to pull back, but I was held in place, close to that mighty chest.
I heard a shrill cry of rage.
I turned my head to the right and beheld, in terror, she who was first among us!
But he did not fling me from him or leap up. Rather, to my terror, my misery, he held me there, helpless, unable to move, naked in his arms.
He then released me, and he stood up. I scurried to my silk and clutched it, and, kneeling, trembling, terrified, held it closely about me.
He turned, rather in irritation, it seemed, to regard those who had come upon us, she who was first amongst us, carrying a long, supple switch of leather, and her two assistants, both large women.
In one hand he held, loosely, his tunic, and the belt, with his wallet.
The three women who had come upon us were silked, of course, but rather differently, and more richly, then I had been, as was to be expected, as they were much higher in this place, in the garden then I. My silk, that now clutched about me, with its irregular mottling of dampnesses, from where it had been held in my mouth, where it had served as my gag, stifling my cries, keeping me silenced, that silk bearing even in places the imprint of my teeth, where it had been desperately bitten upon, clenched between them, as I had become more and more helpless, even to becoming uncontrollable, was no more than a brief, diaphanous tunic. But, as mine, there silks, though not diaphanous, were in their way excellently revealing, as such things are intended to be. She who was first amongst us wore a sleeveless silken vest, scarlet, against which her beauty protested. It was tied shut with a tiny string, the ends of which are loose, that they might, with a casual tug, be freed, the vest then ready to be slipped away, to the back. Her two assistants wore scarlet halters, fastened in front with accessible hooks. She who was first amongst us, doubtless because of her standing, had, in her belly silk, low upon her hips, been permitted the rather modest Harfaxian drape, in which the silk is rectangle, which fastens at the left hip. In this fashion the right leg is concealed. To be sure the left, as the wearer moves, is revealed. Indeed, her left side, is, in effect, bared to the vest. It was fastened at the left hip with a golden clasp. Her two assistants had been shown no such indulgence. Their belly silks, low on their hips, consisted each of two narrow rectangles. This is more common. These silks, in their case, were hemmed over a belly cord, which was fastened at the left hip. The cord must be tied in such a way that it may be easily tugged loose. Most men here, as on my old world, are right-handed. Such silks, however, are not always hemmed over the cord, or belt. Often they must be merely thrust, before and behind, over the cord, or belt. In this case they may be even more easily removed. Like myself the three of them were ornamented. They, too, wore bangles, and bracelets, and each, too, had an armlet. But they, unlike I, had necklaces, some with pendants. The beads of these, and the pendants, hung sometimes to their bared midriffs, moving against them, touching them. We were all pierced-ear girls, as it is said. I wore, as I have mentioned, tiny golden rings in my ears. Those were what I had been permitted. She who was first amongst us wore more elaborate adornments, which, in wire and tiny plates, hung down beside her cheeks. Her two assistants had in their ears large golden loops. All wore talmits, it should be mentioned, those fillets about the head indicative of authority. She who was first amongst us wore as fillet a narrow, golden band. It had a jewel, a ruby, set in its center. Her assistants had common fillets, of scarlet silk. One additional adornment, or mark, did we all have. We were all collared. Have I neglected to mention that I was collared? Perhaps. One takes such things so much for granted. It is customary for such as we to be collared, of course. We all wore golden collars, or, actually, collars plated with gold. These collars locked behind the back of the neck. We cannot remove them. We are quite helpless in them, I assure you. They are not uncomfortable. Often one even forgets that one is wearing one. But one may always be reminded, of course. The brands, which we all wore, of course, mark us as what we are. That is useful, as I have suggested, for legal, and commercial, purposes. The collar, commonly, identifies the house, or he who holds absolute rights over us. Both the brand and the collar are in their diverse ways, identifications, but the collar, as you can understand, is somewhat more specific. Collars can change, of course. But the brand does not. It remains.