I had enjoyed such games, sometimes for gain, sometimes for sport. It was easy to find gratification in my effect on males, boys, and men.
Then, of course, I was not a vulnerable slave, owned, subject to discipline, and such.
Then I was free. I was not in a collar.
What one did then one might not dare in a collar.
“Do you think you could engage in such activities now,” asked Astrinax.
“I do not understand, Master,” I said. I did not want to be lashed.
“Could you smile upon men, bring them drinks, brush against them, be at their side, smile, laugh, pretend to share their anxieties, their joys, their disappointments, and keep them engaged in certain activities?”
“Master?” I said.
“Could you lie, if commanded, pretend interest where interest was not felt, simulate affection where none exists, use your beauty, for you now have beauty, yes, beauty, such as it is, to whisper, wheedle, stimulate, instigate, and influence men, even to their ruin, collapse, or destitution?”
“I do not think I understand Master,” I said.
“Astrinax,” said Menon, “is seeking slaves for a gambling house. It is one of several on the Street of Chance. In such a house, there are commonly slaves, beautiful slaves, to wait upon the men, to serve drinks and food, to contribute to the decor and pleasantness of the setting, to mingle with the patrons, to encourage betting, even to the point of recklessness.”
“I see,” I said.
“In the beginning,” he said, “you would be a lesser slave, though not hard to look upon, and might assist the other girls.”
“Yes, Master,” I said. I was pleased, at least, to learn that I was not hard to look upon. Perhaps in such a place I might attract a man and win for myself a private master. I could make my choice judiciously, finding a fellow both handsome and strong, and, in such a place, quite possibly one of wealth. A girl has ways of course, of influencing a fellow to think of buying her.
It was lonely in my chains, at night. Sometime I clutched them, hurting my hands, in frustration, those metal fastenings on me so fixedly, and thrashed on my mat.
“I think I know the house,” said Menon to Astrinax. “If it is the one I think it is, it is rumored to be dishonest.”
“If so,” smiled Astrinax, “I think our little Allison might fit in quite nicely.”
I remembered my response to the question about the candy.
“Doubtless,” said Menon.
I feared I had disappointed my master.
“You understand the sort of thing we have in mind, do you not, Allison?” asked Astrinax.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“Do you think you could well fulfill your duties in such a place?”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“I thought so,” he said.
“Slaves, there,” said Menon, “exist to loosen the strings on pouches, urge fellows to shower gold on the tables, to risk much, beyond reason, to pout and look away if there is evidence of hesitation or circumspection, to cry out in pleasure if an extra tarn disk is put in the plate, another card drawn, another flash of dice cast.”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
I did not see that that was my concern.
“Some will ply them with drink,” he said, “and bring them food, to keep them at the tables.”
“I understand,” I said.
“You may be expected to do such things,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“And,” said Astrinax, “you would be expected to do such things well, with an appearance of delight and enthusiasm. Do you think you could manage that?”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
In such a place might one not secure a suitable master, perhaps even one rich, though, to be sure, I would hope to be his only slave.
“The price agreed,” said Astrinax, “as I recall, was a silver tarsk.”
I looked up, startled.
I had originally sold for forty-two copper tarsks.
“The price, now,” said Menon, rising, looking down on me, “is fifty, fifty copper tarsks.”
“Oh?” said Astrinax, smiling.
“She is not worth a silver tarsk,” said Menon.
I knelt between them while the tarsks were counted out.
When the transaction had been completed, I dared to look up at Menon. “It is a shame,” said Menon, looking down upon me, “that the slavers consider little more than intelligence, beauty, and helpless, latent passion. Perhaps they should concern themselves more with the character of their prey.”
“Master?” I said.
“Women such as you,” he said, “belong beneath the whip.”
“Please do not whip me, Master,” I said.
“Take her away,” said Menon.
Astrinax stood up, and, from his pouch, he cast me a bit of purple cloth. There was not much to it. It had writing on the back, which I could not read. It barely covered me.
“Stand up, my dear,” said Astrinax.
I did so, hip turned, as I had been taught.
Astrinax regarded me, appraisingly. And I think he was satisfied.
“Come along,” said Astrinax, holding open the swinging panel, which led from the office.
“I wish you well, Master,” I said to Menon.
“Get out,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said, and hurried after Astrinax, sobbing, my eyes filled with tears.
But, I thought, too, I am out of the kitchen, away from the tables. Too, I had little doubt I would be fetching in the sort of tunic I now wore. The angry glance of a free woman, outside the office, reassured me of this.
I felt so superior to her in that moment.
She was only a free woman. I was a slave, half clad, collared, shapely, desirable, ownable, the sort of woman men want, the sort of woman they prize, and buy.
I was a thousand times more than she.
I might be less than the dirt beneath her sandals, but I was a thousand times more than she.
It is no wonder they hate us so, and we fear them so.
How special it was to be a slave, and how right it was for me!
It was what I was, and should be.
If one is a slave, why should one not be a slave?
Chapter Nine
The cages, of heavy, cable-like woven wire, are made for tarsks, not kajirae. One cannot stand in them. They are long, narrow, and low. Thus, more than one can be placed on a sideless, flat-bedded wagon, roped in place. Too, like the common slave cages designed for kajirae, they may be stacked.
I hooked my fingers in the wire, and looked out, frightened, from my knees. The Tarsk Market has its name, obviously enough, I suppose, because it is a general market for tarsks. Certainly the smell of tarsk was all about. And there was little doubt, from the condition of the cage, that the previous occupants of the cage had been tarsks.
Needless to say, it is only low slaves who are vended from such a market.
