the dung of tharlarion. I protested no more.”
Whereas, as suggested earlier, the effects of slave wine and “the wine of the noble free woman” are identical, the common ingredient being sip root, there is a considerable difference in the two drinks. Slave wine makes no attempt to conceal the bitterness of ground, raw sip root, whereas “the wine of the noble free woman” is flavored, spiced, and sweetened in such a way that it offers no offense to the delicate and more refined sensibility of the free woman. A slave, of course, as any domestic animal, is to be bred only if and when, and how, the master wishes. A releaser, interestingly, deliciously palatable, is administered to the slave prior to her mating. In the mating, which is supervised by masters, she will be crossed with a male slave. Both slaves will be hooded, and are forbidden to speak, that neither will later, should they meet, know the other.
“As I recall,” I said, “on the beach, several days ago, you informed me that you were, at that time, a virgin.”
“Yes,” she said, looking down.
“Why?” I asked.
“I hated men,” she said. “I despised them. I could not bear the thought of one of them doing that to me. How vulgar it would be, and how helpless I would be! I would be in their arms no better than a slave.”
“Are you still a virgin?” I asked.
Saru cast a swift, distressed glance at Cecily, who was standing behind me, a bit to my left.
“Must I speak?” she asked,
“Yes,” I said.
“No,” she said, looking down to the straw, “I am no longer a virgin.”
“Lord Nishida opened you,” I said.
She looked up.
“‘Opened’?” she said.
“Yes, to have you more ready, for the pleasure of men,” I said.
“No,” she said. “It was not he who opened me.”
“I am surprised,” I said.
“After the pavilion,” she said, “he had no more interest in harvesting the virginity of one such as I than of harvesting that of a she-tarsk. I was hooded, and given to grooms.”
“Are you different now?” I asked.
“They use me as they wish,” she said.
“Are you different now?” I asked.
“But not so much as before,” she whispered. “Now, often, they make me wait.”
“Doubtless at Lord Nishida’s command,” I suggested.
“Perhaps,” she said. “I do not know.”
“I see you are different now,” I said.
“Yes,” she said, “I am different now.”
“They have put squirmings in your belly,” I said.
“Yes,” she said, lowering her eyes. “They have put squirmings in my belly.”
“I see,” I said.
She looked up, agonized. “Can you not understand me?” she cried. “I can no longer help myself!”
“Nor should you,” I said. “You are becoming vital. You are coming to a state of health scarcely suspected by a free woman. You are being redeemed as a female.”
“I find myself, again and again, in heat, like a she-tarsk!” she cried.
“As a slave,” I suggested.
“Yes,” she said, “as a slave!”
“Excellent,” I said. “To be sure, there are often miseries in such things.”
“For the first time in my life,” she said, “I now want the touch of men! Nay! I must have the touch of men! I now need, desperately, helplessly, piteously need, the touch of men!”
“Of course,” I said, “you are a woman.”
“I was a woman before!” she said.
“Yes,” I said, “but not a slave.”
“No,” she said, “not a slave.”
“You have work to do,” I said. “Tharlarion will soon be returning to the stable.”
“Yes,” she said.
“Where are you housed?” I asked.
“In the corner, over there,” she said, pointing toward the back of the stable, to the right, as we faced the back of the stable. “At night I am chained there, by the neck, to a ring on the floor. I have two pans there, one for water, one for gruel. I must feed as a she-tarsk, head down, my mouth to the food and water, forbidden the use of my hands.”
“That is not all that unusual,” I said, “with a girl who is first being taught that she is at the total mercy of men, one who is beginning to learn her collar.”
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“There is a bucket, surely, for your wastes,” I said.
“I must use the dung cart,” she said.
“I see,” I said.
“Why has Master Pertinax not come to see me?” she asked.
“I do not know,” I said. “Would you like to see him?”
“As I am now?” she said.
“How else?” I said.
“I am collared!” she wept.
“You were collared before,” I reminded her.
“But now I am truly collared,” she said. “I am a slave.”
“You think of Pertinax?” I said.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Doubtless you are distressed, should he see you as you are now, but, I think, still, you would like to see him.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Perhaps you think he would sympathize with you, would be horrified at the fate which is now yours?” I said.
“I do not know,” she said.
“I suspect,” I said, “he would think it a fate you have earned, and one which you richly deserve.”
“I do not know,” she said.
“Perhaps you recall,” I said, “kneeling before him, and ministering with your lips and tongue to his feet?”
“Yes, Master,” she whispered.
In the performance of even so simple an act, a woman, to her uneasiness and astonishment, so before a male, can sense herself in her proper place in nature, and can sense herself becoming irremediably aroused.
“May I speak, Master?” asked Cecily.
“Yes,” I said.
“I could speak to Master Pertinax,” said Cecily, to the slave. “I could ask him to visit you.”
“I am no longer a free woman,” she said. “He could no longer respect me.”
“True,” I said, “nor should he, but he might find you of interest.”
“Of interest!” she exclaimed.
“Yes,” I said, “as a slave.”
“I dream of myself at his feet,” she said. “I dream of myself naked in his arms!”
“In a collar?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said, “in a collar!”
“I could ask him to see you, when the grooms are out,” said Cecily.
“Tell him to bring a switch,” I said.
I was reasonably sure that Saru, whatever might be the momentums and the future of the journey on which
