followed me. She accosted me, and, when I knelt before her, as I must, she struck me and kicked me, several times. “Slut,” she cried. “Slut! Seductive slut!” “I was seized, Mistress!” I protested. “I saw you!” she cried. “They like your sort in the paga taverns! Run to a paga tavern, grovel, and beg to be caressed!” “Please do not hurt me!” I begged. “Would that I owned you!” she said. “If you so much as raised your head in the streets, you would be lashed!” I recoiled under her blows. “Slave,” she said. “Slave, slave, slave!” “Yes, Mistress,” I said. “I am a slave.” She struck me twice more. She then turned about, and left. “Yes,” I thought, “she would like to be in a collar.”
I hurried up the stairs to the second floor of the house of Epicrates, where we maintained our domicile.
I was dirty, weeping, and bruised. My tunic was torn. Shortly after having received the package, I had been set upon by two men, who had been hooded. A wad of cloth had been thrust into my mouth and tied there, with another band of cloth, knotted behind the back of my neck. I had then been drawn into an alley, flung to the gutter, in the alley’s center, and the sack I had worn about my neck had been cut away. The two men had then tied my ankles together and fled away. They had not made use of me. I was muchly helpless, and in consternation. Perhaps, if my wrists had not been pinioned behind my back, I might have offered the assailants some resistance, or, at least, delayed their depredation long enough to attract the attention of passers-by. I must now try, painfully, miserably, bit by bit, to edge my way to the mouth of the alley. But, a moment later, a Leather Worker, passing by in the street outside, was in the mouth of the alley. He, apparently curious, was looking after the two running fellows. He then looked into the alley, saw me, and, a little later, my ankles had been freed. I looked at him, wildly, piteously, over the gag. I made muffled noises, begging that the gag be removed. But he left it in place. “I wonder why they ran,” he said. Then he said, “You are pretty.” His hands were on my ankles. I shook my head, wildly, negatively. And then he made use of me. For a time I squirmed, in protest, but then, after a bit, a slave, overcome, mastered, submitted, I threw back my head, helpless and lost, in a grateful bliss I was unable to resist, a bliss I only hoped would be prolonged. When he was finished with me he removed my gag but placed his finger across my lips, that I would not speak. He then drew a copper tarsk-bit from his pouch and placed it in my mouth. I could not then well speak, for the coin in my mouth. “That is for your master,” he said. He then stood up. “I wager those two,” he said, looking down the alley, “did not even pay.” I made clear to him, with small sounds, kneeling before him, that I wished to speak. He put out his hand and I dropped the coin from my mouth into his palm, “They did not make use of me,” I said. “I was robbed.” “No wonder they ran,” he said. “But do not concern yourself. No one would entrust anything of value to a slave.” “May I go, Master?” I asked. “You are a hot little pudding,” he said. “I cannot help myself,” I said. “I could not resist.” “A barbarian, too,” he said. “I heard that they were all inert.” “Inertness is not permitted to us,” I said. “We are in collars.” “I have heard, too,” he said, “that they are disgusting creatures, helpless, marvelous slaves, who will pant, beg, and crawl for it.” “We are women,” I said. “Slaves,” he said. “Yes, Master,” I said, “slaves.” “What do you cost?” he asked. “Apparently only a tarsk-bit,” I said. “Do not be bitter,” he said. “May I go?” I asked. “The ruffians bruised you,” he said. “You must be in pain.” “May I go?” I asked. “Please, Master.” “Open your mouth,” he said. He then replaced the coin in my mouth. “Remember,” he said. “That is for your master.” I made a single small noise. If gagged, one such noise signifies “Yes,” and two, “No.” It is not unusual for a slave to carry a coin or coins in her mouth. She is not permitted a pouch, and slave garments, like most Gorean garments, save those of artisans, and such, do not contain pockets. I then sprang up and hurried from the alley.
In the domicile, I knelt before my Mistress, the Lady Bina, and dropped the coin at her feet. Lord Grendel was also present. I then, shaken that I had been robbed, miserable in the pain of my bruising, distraught that I had failed to return home with the package, frightened that I would be punished, poured out, in a torrent of tears what had occurred. I did not neglect to explain the origin of the coin. I may have omitted some of the details pertaining to the later phases of my usage. To be sure, such might have been conjectured, as I had been paid, or, rather, as my master or mistress, as the case might be, had been paid.
“I have failed you!” I wept.
“Not at all,” said Lord Grendel. “You have done splendidly.”
“Master?” I said.
“It was intended,” he said, “that the package be stolen. We have let the importance of the wine shop of Amyntas be known in certain quarters. Certain individuals have even permitted themselves to be bribed, to let a certain code sheet fall into certain hands. Indeed, this domicile is doubtless under surveillance, now that spring has come. The package stolen from you contained a code deck, whose message would be revealed by the purchased code sheet. The message, intended to fall into certain hands, specifies a supposed meeting of more than a hundred operatives opposed to the plans of Agamemnon. The enemy will doubtless wish to eliminate these operatives. When they attack the meeting site they will find it empty, but they, themselves, will be surrounded and attacked. In this way we hope to obtain a number of prisoners, who, if not of the importance of Pausanias, and such, might be important, and, properly persuaded, might lead us to the higher, even the highest, conspirators. If this plan proceeds to fruition we will not have ended the conspiracy, of course, which is far reaching, and may have support from various steel worlds, but it should deal it a serious blow.”
“Should I not have been told?” I said.
“Certainly not,” said Lord Grendel. “You must play your part in total ignorance. An inadvertent look, a mere expression, a lapsed word, a too-ready acquiescence, might have brought about the ruin of the entire plan.”
“Might I not have been killed?” I said.
“No,” said Lord Grendel. “No more than a kaiila or tarsk.”
“The men were hooded,” I said.
“Certainly that, or masked, or veiled,” said Lord Grendel, “that you would be unable to recognize them.”
“I was back-braceleted,” I said.
“To further protect your life,” said Lord Grendel. “Had you been able to offer the least resistance, and had you been so foolish as to have done so, which we feared you might, delaying the theft, or jeopardizing it in any way, you might have been summarily slain. It is possible you owe your life to something as simple as a pair of slave bracelets.”
“Might they now be removed?” I asked.
“Certainly,” he said.
“Thank you,” I said.
“I wager,” said the Lady Bina, “there is someone whose bracelets you would like to wear, and perhaps his shackles, as well.”
“Mistress?” I said.
“Someone by whose coin you would like to have been taken off the slave block,” she said.
“I will have to sew my garment,” I said. “It is torn.”
The Lady Bina fingered the tarsk-bit. “When I bought you,” she said, “I thought you might be of interest to men.”
“Yes, Mistress,” I said.
“Is this,” she asked, looking at the coin, “all your use was worth?”
“I had nothing to say about it,” I said. “It was what he gave me.”
“I would have supposed you should have brought twice that,” she said, “two tarsk-bits.”
“Ela,” I said, “Mistress was not there to negotiate.”
“Many men,” said Lord Grendel, “coming upon a luscious kajira, gagged, and secured, helpless, totally at their mercy, in a secluded place, would not pay at all.”
“Would it not be the same with a free woman?” I asked.
“Certainly not,” he said. “The free woman would be instantly freed, succored, and restored to dignity. And if not, if one were so boorish, or foolish, as to risk torture and impalement, one would not pay, anyway, as the free woman is priceless. To give her a coin would be a great insult.”
“And we are quite different?” I said.
“Quite,” said Lord Grendel. “You are not priceless. You are worth what men will pay for you.”
“At least,” I said, “we have some sense then of what we are worth.”
“Of course,” said Lord Grendel.
“But he did pay,” said the Lady Bina.
“That suggests,” said Lord Grendel, “he was well satisfied.”
“Was he well satisfied, Allison?” inquired the Lady Bina.
