“And see that I am well fastened there, on my chain?” said the voice.
“That would give me great pleasure,” I said.
“I belong in the Kasra keeping area,” she said.
“That for lesser slaves,” I said.
“I am informed so,” she said.
“Precede me, slut,” I said.
“May I speak?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“I suppose,” she said, “that not all sluts are slaves.”
“Probably not,” I said, “though doubtless they should be made slaves.”
“But all slaves are sluts,” she said.
“They had better be,” I said.
“Good,” she said, “Master.”
Men were about us, hurrying slaves below. Some were conducted by the wrist, or arm. Others were put in painful leading position, one in each hand, their heads held at the hip of their keeper of the moment. Others were hurried on their way with a shove, or a stinging slap below the small of the back. Some cried out, hastened with the bow of a belt across the backs of their thighs. Most tried to hurry ahead, down the companionways, and through the corridors.
“Move,” I told her.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
I followed her. I wished I had her on a leash, if only that she might know herself leashed, and on my leash.
We were down three decks in a bit, and rather separated from the others.
“May I speak?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“I gather,” she said, “that the men are to chain us.”
“It seems so,” I said.
“That is unusual,” she said.
“Yes,” I said.
“I am a slave,” she said. “I prefer being chained by a man.”
“I understand,” I said.
This made sense as females know in their heart that they are by nature the property of males. This natural relationship, refined within, and expressed within, the enhancements of civilization, may be expressed in many ways, for example, by the brand, the collar, distinctive clothing, bracelets, a chain, and such. The chain, of course, is not purely symbolic. That is clear to any woman who finds herself on a chain.
“But why, now?” she asked.
“I am not sure,” I said. Actually, it seemed very likely to me that, now that our voyage was much at its end, Tyrtaios, and doubtless others, would be anxious to enlist associates, for some end or other, to which end the prospect of a distribution of slaves might prove conducive.
Accordingly, in such a case, it might be useful to force, as he had, beautiful, half-naked slaves to prove their heat, and need, before virile males.
Who would not enjoy having one or more of them?
Similarly, it seemed that each might chain his choice.
I found that of interest.
Disputes in such matters are commonly adjudicated with the sword. The slave, in such a case, is usually stripped, bound, hand and foot, hooded or blindfolded, and thrown to the side. She must wait, to see to whom she will belong.
We had now approached the lower decks.
“May I speak, Master?” she inquired.
“Yes,” I said.
“On our way,” she said, “we will pass the Venna area.”
“True,” I said, “where the better slaves are housed.”
“I am not sure of that,” she said.
“You little she-sleen,” I said. “How vain you are!”
“Have you ever been in the Venna keeping area?” she asked.
“No,” I said, “nor the Kasra keeping area either, for that matter.”
“I am curious to gaze upon these special slaves,” she said, “particularly those who are always hooded when taken through the corridors, up the companionways, to the open deck.”
“I doubt that you would be objective, in assessing your betters,” I said.
“My betters?”
“Certainly.”
“I am not sure of that,” she said.
I did not respond.
“Are you not curious?” she asked.
“It is none of our business,” I said. To be sure, I was curious.
“We may have few such opportunities,” she said.
“We are near the Venna keeping area,” I noted. The Kasra keeping area was on the deck below.
“The portal,” she said, “is ajar.”
The lock dangled.
It had been broken away, probably by a hammer.
We could hear the sounds of men, and slaves, and chains, within. There was much stirring. We could also see that lamps had been lit within. I heard nothing of the large women, so coarse, and gross, and their switches. How different they were from the slaves of desirability, the soft, beautiful, delicious, feminine slaves, the gems on a slaver’s necklace, those for whom discerning men patiently wait to be put upon the block. Men, it seemed, on the word of Tyrtaios, had invaded this normally sequestered precinct. I suppose it was much the same below, in the Kasra area.
“Please!” begged the slave, Alcinoe.
In the light of the lamp in the corridor the collar, closely fitting, was lovely on her neck. She had not been given much to wear. It was a “Kasra tunic,” so to speak, appropriate to the lower keeping area. She was lightly complexioned and her dark hair was soft about her head and shoulders. I myself wondered if the slaves who had been hooded could be much her superior. Certainly I did not think that those of the Venna keeping area who had been brought unhooded to the deck had been much her superior, if at all. Indeed, I suspected that she had been consigned to the lower area with aforethought, perhaps to suggest her unimportance. Seremides might have arranged that, I supposed. To be sure, there were some slaves from each keeping area whom I recognized would be likely to bring more off the block than Alcinoe, if sold as common meat, and not as an item of special interest, on which, say, a bounty might be collected. But, in spite of that, even considered as common meat, I thought one could do far worse than the slave, Alcinoe. Too, I thought her much improved from Ar. Always beautiful, always a female who disturbed dreams, who would be likely to occur in them naked, in a man’s chains, she now seemed to me much more beautiful. And this was not, in my view, a simple matter of the carefully supervised regimen of diet and exercise routinely imposed on domestic animals of her sort, shaping, trimming, and vitalizing her figure, that it might be brought to the block as a superb stimulus to buyers. It was, rather, the fuller beauty of a woman, which is brought out by bondage, a tonicity, a softness, a femininity, an aliveness, a sensitivity, a vulnerability, an awareness, in which her wars are done, her conflicts resolved, her self-torments ended, her inhibitions vanished, her identity secure, the relief and welcome joy of a woman who accepts herself as what she is, and is content to be, and desires to be, a slave who hopes to be found pleasing by her master.
I recalled her from Ar, in her ornate, sumptuous robes, one of which might have cost a laborer a year’s wages, sometimes so casual about the hem, lifting it up a bit, as to examine the heel of a slipper, but exhibiting an ankle, or drawing back, against her, or smoothing, about her, a garment, in such a way that one might speculate about the line of a figure, or the turn of a hip, but, much more often, the carelessness with which a veil might have
