“Do not kill him,” I said.
“Why not?” asked Lord Grendel.
“I want his collar,” I said.
“I must attend to my meal,” he said. “Go to the gate, as though you could not be too near to it.”
I hurried and knelt near the gate.
Shortly thereafter the two guards appeared. I gathered that Lord Grendel had heard their approach.
I put my hands through the bars, pathetically. “Please let me out, Masters,” I begged.
In a short time Lord Grendel had finished what provender had been provided him, and finished the tankard of water which, too, had been on the tray.
“Fetch the tray,” said the first guard, by means of the translator.
“Please do not make me approach him,” I begged.
“Now,” came from the translator.
I crept back and, as though frightened, retrieved the tray, the plate and tankard, and then rose to my feet, and backed toward the gate, which was opened for me, and I exited the cell, following which the gate was again closed.
“Did she groom well?” the first guard asked Lord Grendel. He had apparently left the translator on. It still hung about his neck, on its simple iron chain. Lord Grendel responded, and, a moment later, I heard, “Yes.”
“That is fortunate for you, kajira,” came from the translator.
I was silent.
I wanted to leave the area of cells.
“Perhaps,” came from the translator, “you will sometimes groom me.”
“I would be honored to groom Master,” I said, and then, as I was not detained, hurried past the second guard, with his heavy weapon, exiting through the outer gate.
Chapter Thirty
“Ho, kajira,” said a voice, not heard for days.
I spun about, delighted, and rushed to Desmond of Harfax, knelt before him, pressed my lips quickly to his sandals, knelt up, and then knelt close to him, holding him about the legs, and putting my turned head humbly against his legs, rather as I had seen Mina do with Trachinos.
“Here, here,” he said, surprised.
I supposed many women of my old world would not have understood something this meaningful, and simple, the love and gratitude, the pleasure of a slave in the presence of a master. Perhaps that is because they do not know themselves slaves. Perhaps that is because they have never met a true male, so mighty, so innocently and naturally the master of such as we. Perhaps they have never met a male before whom they could hope to do little but kneel, and hope to be found pleasing.
“Here, here,” he said. “You are not my slave.”
I looked up at him. How did he know whose slave I was?
“Stand up, back away,” he said. “Let me see you.”
I obeyed, smiling. I pulled down the camisk a little, self-consciously. How meaningless that gesture was when camisked!
“Turn,” he said.
I turned, and then, again, faced him.
“Lovely,” he said, admiringly. “The camisk becomes you.”
A slave, I was muchly pleased. We love our bodies, and our beauty, and are thrilled to be choicelessly displayed as the slaves we are. What free woman would not, in our place, wish to be brazenly exhibited to the eyes of men as the treasure she is?
Too, what woman, I wondered, would a camisk not become?
“In the past weeks,” I said, “I have not seen Master.”
“Nor I you,” he said.
“I trust Master is well,” I said.
“Yes,” he said, “and you?”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“You are looking well,” he said.
“We are carefully dieted and routinely exercised,” I said.
“That is common with animals,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“Your hair,” he said, “is far from slave long, but I have seen many barbarians whose hair, in their first sale, was no longer, or not much longer.”
“Many barbarian females,” I said, “wear their hair as they please.”
“When they are collared,” he said, “they will wear it as their masters please.”
“Of course, Master,” I said.
He then approached me, and my body tensed. I hoped he would gather me into his arms.
He placed his hand, lightly, on the side of my waist, on the left. I made a tiny, inadvertent noise, and drew back a little, my eyes, wide, regarding him, my lips parted.
“From so little?” he said.
“Forgive me, Master,” I said.
“Your slave fires,” he said, “have begun to burn.”
“It is being done to me, Master,” I said. “Please, forgive me.”
“It is acceptable,” he said. “Indeed, it is desirable.”
“I cannot help myself, Master,” I said.
“Nor should you,” he said. “Kneel.”
Immediately I complied. Kajirae are to obey unquestioningly, and instantly.
“I see,” he said.
“I must now kneel like this,” I said.
I was before him in the position of the pleasure slave, in nadu, back straight, head up, hands palm down on thighs, belly in, shoulders back, kneeling back on heels, knees spread. This was common nadu. Some masters prefer the hands behind the back, the right hand grasping the left wrist, if the girl is right handed, and the left hand grasping the right wrist, if the girl is left handed. Some masters, too, prefer for the head to be bowed, in subservience. In the common nadu, as required in the complex, and insisted upon by Nora, the hands are to be visible and the head raised. Some say the hands are to be visible in order that the slave cannot conceal within them a package, a pellet, a powder, a weapon, or such. One supposes that may be a consequence of the position, but, one supposes, as slaves could scarcely have access to such things, that one must look further. Aside from the aesthetic aspects of the matter, namely revealing the small, sweet loveliness of a woman’s hands, the small wrists, almost asking to be bound, and such, it facilitates a common begging gesture, one which is lovely and subtle. One merely changes the position of the hands, by turning the backs of the hand to the thighs. This exposes the soft, concave, curved tenderness of the palms, open, sensitive, and vulnerable, to the master. Another subtle device is the simple bondage knot, loosely tied in the hair. In both these ways, and others, the slave may make her needs known. Perhaps, when she is expected to be tunicked, she appears in a camisk, or naked; perhaps she is discovered, as suggested earlier, stripped, at the foot of his couch; perhaps she kneels before him, bringing him a whip, or rope. Or perhaps she merely kneels, or bellies, and begs to be caressed. Numerous are the variations which might appear in such matters. The point of having the head raised is presumably that the beauty of her features may be well displayed. Too, of course, it makes it easier for her to apprise herself of her surroundings, the master’s moods, and such. It is common with slaves, as with other animals, that they are trained to the master’s tastes.
“You serve, in the complex?” he asked.
“Assuredly,” I said. “I even, from time to time, groom Kurii.”
