She looked up. “Help me,” she begged.
“I fear I can do nothing,” said Pertinax.
“Please tell them I am not a slave,” she begged.
“I gather,” said Pertinax, “that you are a slave, or will soon be one.”
Kneeling, she put her head in her hands, and wept.
“Take her away,” said Lord Nishida.
One of the guards reached down, and jerked her to her feet by the upper left arm.
She turned wildly to me. “Save me!” she cried. “Do something! Fight for me! Rescue me!”
It interested me that the former Miss Wentworth, in this milieu, if in no other, suddenly understood the dependence of women upon men. Men might, if they wished, do with women as they wished. This simple, obvious fact had not been so clear on her former world, though it was a fact there, as well as here. That world was one in which women stood commonly within the shelters of civilized proprieties, within the fences of society, encircled by innumerable customs and laws, with their diverse enforcements and sanctions. In such a situation women take much for granted, not even understanding that it is being taken for granted.
“I fear, Lord Nishida,” said Tajima to Lord Nishida, “the woman is unutterably stupid.”
“No,” said Thrasilicus, “she is not stupid. She is merely ignorant. At present, it is true, I fear, that she knows little of the collar, and nothing of the furs.”
“She must learn, quickly,” said Lord Nishida.
“The whip will teach her, and quickly,” said Tajima, with, oddly, a glance at Sumomo, the contract woman who was on the right, as one would look to the dais. She was, indeed, a lovely young thing.
She sneered at Tajima. I gathered he had low status, for the women of the “strange men” are taught much respect to males. Even an older sister must bow first to a younger brother.
“Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” said Lord Nishida, “what do you think of my new slave?”
I shrugged. There seemed little to say.
“I see,” said Lord Nishida. “Would you like her?”
The slave looked at Lord Nishida with disbelief. In that moment I think she first understood herself as property, which might be handed about, exchanged, bought and sold, and so on.
Cecily looked up, too, distressed. She knew herself as property, as well. She loved being property, and knowing herself property, but I did not think she was eager to be bestowed or vended. She loved being a possession, but, rather clearly, if I am not mistaken, she wished to remain the possession of a particular master, wished to remain my possession. Her distress, I think, had to do with the apprehension, this now again made clear to her, that she might without a second thought be given or sold to another. The slave, totally, is property, at the mercy of the master. Too, she may have feared that I might accept Lord Nishida’s offer, and then she would no longer be my only slave. Most slaves desire, fervently, to be a man’s only slave. That she might become, in such a situation, “first girl,” over the formerly insolent “Constantina” would be small consolation for sharing the attentions of a master with a rival. Some masters, of course, as it can be afforded, have more than one slave, that each may try to outdo the other, to please him the more. My own feeling is that it is best to have one slave, so that she will strive to be so loving, so pleasing, so hot, so needful, that the master will feel no desire for another. A master may have many slaves, of course, a merchant, say, may have dozens, a Ubar hundreds, and so on, but the slave, in her needful femininity, commonly wants to be the single property of a master, whom she need not share with another.
“My thanks, great lord,” I said, “but I am content with she who kneels to my left.”
Lord Nishida nodded.
His offer, in honor, had to be genuine, but I am confident he did not expect it to be accepted.
“Your name is Pertinax?” said Lord Nishida to Pertinax.
“Yes,” said Pertinax.
“Would you like this slave?” he asked.
“No,” said Pertinax.
The slave regarded him, with incredulity. “You always wanted me!” she exclaimed.
“I did not know you then,” he said. “Here I have learned, for the first time, your true nature and character, who you are, and what you have done.”
“Accept me! Take me! Own me!” she begged.
“No,” said Pertinax.
“Please!” she said. “Own me!”
“You would be owned,” he said, “but you would not think yourself owned. But sometime, I am sure, you will understand, in your heart and belly, that you are owned, truly owned.”
“Save me from this fate!” she wept.
“Your lips and tongue felt well on my feet,” he said.
“Keep me,” she said. “Own me!”
“No,” he said.
“I do not understand,” she wept.
“You are worthless,” he said. “You are petty, radically petty, to the core.”
She stood there, in the grip of the guard, naked, forlorn, shaken, stunned.
Again, I thought the offer of Lord Nishida was genuine, but, again, I was confident he did not expect it to be accepted. He was, I gathered, a shrewd judge of men. I did not find this surprising, from my estimation of his position, and apparent acuity. Indeed, I suspected that these formal overtures on his part were largely intended to express his contempt for the slave. Some men, of course, find it pleasant to embond a woman they hold in contempt, and then treat her accordingly. And, when the slave fires have been ignited in her belly, and she is the helpless prisoner of her needs, it amuses them to have her at their feet, prostrate, piteous, begging for their least touch.
“I trust, Lord Nishida,” said Thrasilicus, “the slave pleases your senses.”
“She pleases my senses,” said Lord Nishida, “but I am not sure she pleases my heart.”
“In bondage,” I said, “a woman is often muchly transformed.”
This was true. Bondage, in which the woman learns her womanhood, effects in a woman not only a sexual but a moral and personal redemption. In the collar, and in submission, she learns service, fulfillment, wholeness, and love. In the collar, and in her complete and categorical submission to the master, sexually, emotionally, and personally, she becomes herself, and happy.
“If Lord Nishida is not pleased,” said Thrasilicus, “we may search out another.”
“And this one,” said Tajima, who had had, from the beginning, as I understood it, reservations pertaining to the former Miss Wentworth, “as she would be unworthy meat for larls or sleen, may be bound and cast into the garbage pit for the delectation of swarming urts.”
There seemed a general assent to this, amongst those present.
They took her to be poor slave stuff.
I myself, however, did not think she would look poorly on a block, if well exhibited.
“We shall see,” said Lord Nishida. Then he addressed the two guards who had had the former Miss Wentworth in custody. “After her branding and collaring,” he said, “shave her head, and send her to the stables, and see that she learns she is a slave.”
“Yes, great lord,” they said, and exited the pavilion, the former Miss Wentworth, whimpering, but afraid to speak, held by the upper left arm, in the grip of one of them.
“Regrettable,” said Lord Nishida.
“Another may be procured,” said Thrasilicus, concerned. “You may return her to me. I would not mind having her under my whip.”
“Your choice,” said Lord Nishida, “was excellent.”
Thrasilicus seemed surprised.
“If she learns her collar well,” said Lord Nishida, “another may find her pleasing.”
“I had thought you wanted her for yourself,” said Thrasilicus.
“No,” said Lord Nishida. “Her yellow hair, blue eyes, and fair skin will be rare at home. She may figure amongst a variety of gifts, for another.”
“For whom?” asked Thrasilicus.
