as a typical female companion on my native world was accustomed, given the culture in question, to control, manage, and manipulate their male companions, rather to the unhappiness, distress, and frustration of both. Would it not be pleasant to be owned by a weak man, with whom one would be sure of having one’s own way? To be sure, one must be careful. I would be in his collar, and there would be a whip on its peg. But I thought, rather, I must be a true slave, as I wanted a true man, one who would lust after me with power, who would be satisfied with nothing less than owning me, wholly, one who would be to my slave a master, one who would have me kneel before him, naked and collared, perhaps chained, my head to his feet, one who would own me, unequivocally. I wanted to be his, his property, a helpless object, goods, possessed by him, in all the fullness of law, in all the fullness of culture, in all the fullness of nature. I supposed then that I must be in my heart a slave, one radically female, and needful. To such a man I would have no choice but to submit, and wholly, and to such a man I longed to submit, and wholly. It was in the collar of such a man I wanted to be; it was the collar of such a man I longed to wear. It was the touch of such a man which would make me weak and helpless, a yielding, submitted slave. It was the touch of such a man which would set me afire. It was the touch of such a man for which I would beg. But, alas, how can one’s slave be satisfied, as in the lament of so many women of my world, where one has no master?
I was confident that I might exploit the ignorance, the weakness, of those unfamiliar with the nature of Gor.
Could I not win for myself, with a smile, a tear, a word, a frown, an easy life?
But I was unsure of these things, for much here seemed paradoxical, the nature of she who had bargained for me, and bought me, and the nature of he who was her agent, and had claimed me in her behalf.
I was being carried with all the gentleness and courtesy of a free woman.
Had I not seen free women standing as though forlorn before tiny lakes of drainage water and mud at intersections, until a suitable male approached, alert to her seeming distress, to whom she granted the daring privilege of carrying her to safety on the other side of the street? I supposed he knew what was occurring. I hoped so. There is a timing in such matters. Sometimes one had to circle a block in order to strand oneself opportunely.
Yet, though I was carried in dignity, as though I might be free, I was tightly, helplessly bound, bound as a slave.
I was a slave.
Would I be freed?
That seemed unlikely to me. There is a Gorean saying that only a fool frees a slave girl, and I suppose it is true. What man does not want a slave? Even on my native world I was sure that the men and boys I knew would not have minded in the least owning me. That sort of thing had been clear enough in the party on Earth, where they had looked delightedly and unabashedly on the collar on my neck, and my half-naked limbs.
I supposed they thought, how pleasant it would be to own Allison Ashton-Baker. What shall I name her?
Too, I had gathered, during my sale, that the Lady Bina had wished to reassure herself that I might be of interest to men.
I did not understand that.
Was a coin box to be chained about my neck and I would be sent into the streets? Was I to be put at the disposal of guests when I had finished serving a supper? Was I to be rented out?
To be sure, it is not unusual for a free woman to want her serving slaves to be attractive to men. A double cruelty is involved in this. In this way, by denying her girls the arms of masters she frustrates them, which pleases her, as she hates slave girls, and she also, in a way, punishes, or thinks she punishes, men, to whom she denies her girls, for their interest in slaves, which interest she, as a free woman, resents.
How could one care for a slave when a free woman was present?
But how could one care for a free woman, when a slave was present?
But how, I asked myself, could I now be of interest to men, given the work of the razor of Petranos?
“We are here,” said the beast.
One commonly irons, as one launders, on one’s knees. This is, of course, not different from the usual custom of free women, those of the lower castes. One of the things about your world which I found striking was the paucity of clutter and furniture in your dwellings. You do much with mats, cushions, and low tables, about which men will usually sit cross-legged, and women kneel. Whereas chairs, benches, and higher tables are familiar to you, as in the public eating houses, and common in the north, such things are much more common on my former world. There, almost anyone may sit upon a chair, whereas here, particularly in private dwellings, such an ensconcement is often reserved for individuals of status or importance. And certainly a slave would much fear to take a place on a chair, or, say, on a supper couch. It is not for such as we. Much storage is done in chests, kept at the edges of a room. Perhaps things are different in wealthier domiciles, with their larger kitchens and pantries, their walls, the interior colonnades, the fountains, and gardens, the rooms opening onto them, and such. I glimpsed something of that, once, when a portal had been briefly opened. From the outside, of course, little of luxury is suggested. Much seems drab, and plain, heavy, even forbidding. Sometimes bills are posted on the exterior walls, as though in public places.
I finished folding the sheets.
The Lady Bina had rented the upper-floor of a small, two-floor, common-wall house on Emerald. The front of the first floor, facing the street, was the shop of a pottery merchant, Epicrates, who, with his family, lived in the rear. His companion, Delia, like himself, could read. This is common amongst the Merchants. Indeed, thanks to her instruction, and a handful of coins, distributed over a few days, the Lady Bina was now passably literate. Certainly she could now manage the public boards and, I gathered, typical scrolls. She was apparently an apt pupil. Indeed, I gathered she could already read better than many allegedly literate Goreans. I had no doubt that my Mistress was not only extremely beautiful, but extremely intelligent, as well. She was very quick, and very ambitious. I was unclear as to her background, as much, or more, than that of the beast. It was almost as though she had never been taught, or socialized. There was something about her which, for all her intelligence, suggested the innocence of the animal, something wild and unconstrained, something immediate, direct, and untutored. As nearly as I could tell she was unencumbered by restraints or scruples. What she might want she would see to it, if possible, that she would have. In that small, beautiful body, slightly smaller than mine, there was a nature innocently prudential, vain, self-centered, independent, and calculating. I did not understand her. How had she been raised, or, in a sense, had she been raised at all? In her way she seemed as unsettlingly innocent, and as impatient, occasionally nasty, and possibly dangerous, if crossed, as an urt, or a small, lovely she-sleen. Oddly, I suspected more of humanity, or a sort of humanity, in the beast. It had, for example, or at least seemed to have, a sense of duty, of loyalty, of honesty, of honor. I recalled how my ankles had been bound outside the Tarsk Market. They had been fastened together with warrior knots. Might it be, somehow, familiar with the scarlet codes?
The beast had informed me that it was self-exiled, and had accompanied the Lady Bina to this world, from their former world, as a guard. I had, however, never noted coins passed between them. Guard he might be, but I did not think him a guard in any normal sense. Why, I wondered, had he left his own world, truly, and with her? It did not seem she owned him, or he her. Had he been outlawed, had he fled? What was his relationship, truly, to the Lady Bina? Had others banished him, denying him bread, fire, and salt? Was it substantially a coincidence that they were together, merely fellow expatriates? I did not think so. How had they come here? There must have been a ship. Indeed, how had I come here? There must have been a ship. The translator I had seen suggested a sophisticated technology. Yet here, on this world, I had seen little that would suggest such things. There were mysteries, apparently. And there were the mysterious Sardar Mountains, within which, supposedly, resided the gods of Gor, called Priest-Kings. It seemed a primitive world, but I, and others, had been brought here, and there was the translator.
The beast, in all things, save those in which her safety or health might be jeopardized, would give way to the Lady Bina. She was, of course, a free woman. Sometimes she would stamp her small foot, and pout, in annoyance, but he would be adamant, as a rock, if he feared for her welfare. He would even, with all his size and might, accept abuse at her hands, patiently, unflinchingly. I had seen her, in frustration, strike him, again and again, but he would make no effort to protect himself, or fend her away. I myself would have been afraid to lift my hand to him, lest it be bitten off. I had been purchased, obviously, at least in part, for the work of a female slave, that I might labor on behalf of my mistress, keep the domicile, clean and launder, purchase, prepare, and cook food, as I might, fetch and carry, in particular bringing water from the fountains, run errands, indulge her whims, tend to her wants,
