Some of the customers, I knew, kept such small treats about their person, or in their pouches. These were usually hard candies, which might last a long time, slowly savored. Sometimes they would roll them on the floor and have a girl pursue them on all fours, putting her head down, and picking them up, gratefully, in her teeth. Sometimes they would have the girl kneel at the bench, put back her head, her eyes closed, tightly, and open her mouth, widely. She does not know, strictly, if she is to be cuffed or rewarded, but, as you may suppose, she usually has an excellent sense as to how matters will fall out. If her service is thought to have been insufficiently prompt, diligent or deferent, and she is likely to suspect that, she may be struck. “Forgive me, Master,” she then sobs, and is hastened about her duties, now intent on improving her service. At least she is not lashed. Usually, however, if so knelt, she is to be rewarded, a candy being placed in her mouth. “Thank you, Master,” she breathes, licking and kissing the hand which has deigned to bestow so precious a gift upon her. How proud she is then, the possessor of so rare a treat, and how envied she will be amongst her chain sisters!
How she will nurse that treat, making it last as long as possible!
To be sure, such tipping is frowned upon by the establishment, as the women are merely slaves.
One wonders if the free can understand how important such a tidbit, negligible from their point of view, so tiny, savory, and sweet, can be to one of your despised collar girls.
Even today such a thing is meaningful to me, and my master may or may not grant it to me, as it pleases him, but, at that time, in the place of Menon, so small a thing seemed inordinately precious, and important.
I had not had such a sweet since Earth, since my “harvesting” as one of the ill-protected, exposed, dangling fruits so easily available to slavers in the “slave orchard of Earth,” no, not since my acquisition, my capture, my routine snaring, merely another sleek, defenseless animal, ignorant and unsuspecting, easily taken as the prize of methodical hunters.
“Now,” said Astrinax, “let us suppose that the girl who has been given the candy wants to save it, to postpone the pleasure of eating it until later, perhaps to when her work is done, and hides it somewhere, perhaps in the straw of her mat, and you, unbeknownst to her, have observed this.”
“Yes, Master?” I said, warily.
“Let us further suppose that you might, unobserved, and unsuspected, and with utter impunity, steal it. Would you do so?”
I did not care for this conversation. I was much afraid, to lie, or to tell the truth.
“I must tell the truth?” I asked.
“You are a slave,” said Menon.
“And I would not be caught?” I asked.
“No,” said Astrinax.
“I am not stupid,” I said.
“Of course not,” said Astrinax.
It was well known that high intelligence was one of the properties sought in slaves. Who would want a stupid slave? Too, it was well known that highly intelligent women made the best slaves. Of all women they were the quickest to learn that the collar was truly on them, that they were now actually owned by a master, that society wholly supported and approved their condition, and that escape was impossible. They were now slaves, unqualifiedly. Too, once they had been truly knelt, their sexual drives and needs would begin to rage within them; they would become aware of their biological being and its nature, that they were biologically the properties of men; and, pursuant to these understandings and bodily changes, and knowing themselves choiceless, the collar on their necks, they yielded to their being and nature, submissive to, and responsive to, categorical male dominance, yielded helplessly and appetitiously to this, naturally, passionately, and gratefully, it being that for which they had longed for so long, that without they were incomplete, given the radical sexual dimorphism of the species.
They would come to long for the chain, and the caress.
Even to beg for it.
“And she is only a slave,” I said.
“Of course,” said Astrinax.
“Then,” said I, “I would steal the candy. Who would not?”
“Many,” said Menon, regretfully.
“I think she will do very nicely,” said Astrinax.
“I fear so,” said Menon.
“Master?” I said, uneasily.
“Eventually,” said Menon, “you will have to grow more moral.”
“Master?” I said.
“You are a slave,” said Menon. “One expects a greater morality from a slave than a free woman.”
“Because they are afraid of being beaten?” I asked.
“Perhaps,” he said.
“But, Master,” I said, “is the testimony of slaves in courts not taken under torture, that they will not dare to lie?”
“It would be better,” said Menon, “for the testimony of free women to be taken under torture, for they are famous for saying whatever pleases them.”
“Under torture,” said Astrinax, “one speaks not to say the truth, but to say whatever will stop the pain.”
“I am disappointed in you, Allison,” said Menon.
“Forgive me, Master,” I said.
“She is a barbarian,” Astrinax reminded Menon.
“True,” said Menon.
“I am pleased to hear your response to my question,” said Astrinax.
“A slave is pleased if Master is pleased,” I said.
Surely a girl is entitled to look out for herself, avail herself of opportunities, improve her place, take advantage of things, and so on.
“I think you are a clever slave,” said Astrinax.
“Thank you, Master,” I said.
“Though perhaps not intelligent,” he said.
“Master?” I said.
“But clever, surely,” he said.
“Thank you, Master,” I said.
I wished he had said ‘intelligent’. ‘Clever’ had a suggestion of pettiness, of cunning, of smallness about it.
“And pretty,” he said.
“Thank you, Master,” I said.
“A pretty slave, and a clever one,” he said.
“Thank you, Master,” I said. I was not sure I had been complimented. Was I not intelligent, was I not beautiful, at least amongst women of Earth, if not compared to Gorean collar girls?
But is the word ‘clever’ not a mere disparagement, on the part of some, of true intelligence, that which is expedient, and prudentially wise, that by means of which one may pursue one’s best interests with the least regard to extraneous impediments, principles, codes, rules, and such?
I was annoyed.
I knew myself to be quite intelligent. The girls in the sorority had not been selected merely on the basis of appearance, carriage, dressing smartly, being economically well stationed, and so on. We were selected, at least in part, to enhance the reputation of the sorority, as an established avenue to wealth and power. Membership, this presenting us as rare prizes in marital competitions, above lesser advantaged girls, much increased the likelihood of our obtaining an enviable match.
“On your former world,” said Astrinax, “one supposes you were adept in certain familiar female practices, commonly associated with free women, for example, that you were skilled in flattering males, in teasing them, manipulating them, playing on their feelings, raising their hopes, encouraging them to pursuits in your interest, or perhaps in the interest of your superiors, inducing them to certain activities, by glances, smiles, words, and such.”
“Perhaps, Master,” I said.
