I sensed I was being regarded, from behind, as a slave may be regarded.
“How is it that Master knows a girl’s name, and that of her Mistress?” I asked.
“Hold still,” he said.
I stiffened, angrily.
I felt his hands at the side of my body, and then at the sides of my waist, and then at my hips, and then a bit down, at the sides of my thighs.
Had I been on Earth, and free, I would doubtless have spun about, and struck him. But I was on Gor, and a slave.
“Not bad, for a barbarian,” he said.
“I assure Master,” I said, “that many of us are quite as good as his native Gorean girls.”
Certainly we were all of the same species, and all in our collars.
“I am told we sell well,” I said, angrily.
“For copper tarsks,” he said.
My fingers dug into the laundry, angrily.
Did he know of the Metellan district, or the house of Menon?
“Do not turn around,” he said.
“No, Master,” I said.
“Straighten your body, girl,” he said.
“Is Master pleased with what he sees?” I asked.
“I have seen worse,” he said.
“A slave is pleased, if Master is pleased,” I said, acidly.
I was sure now whose was the voice whose face I could not see.
It was he from the Sul Market, he whom I loathed.
I had seen him about, from time to time.
“It seems Master follows a slave,” I said. “Perhaps Master will make an offer for her.”
“You are a vain slut,” he said. “What makes you think anyone would want you?”
“I am lovely,” I said.
“That is all you are,” he said.
“At least that is something,” I said.
“Certainly,” he said.
“How did you know my name, and that of my Mistress?” I asked.
“Curiosity is not becoming in a kajira,” he said.
“Forgive me, Master,” I said.
“Are you any good in the furs?” he asked.
“Perhaps Master would care to try me, and see,” I said.
“You are boldly spoken,” he said.
I shrugged.
“Perhaps I will try you,” he said, “and see.”
“I am owned by another,” I said, quickly.
“But a woman,” he said.
“She might hire men,” I said.
“If she could hire men,” he said, “you would not be doing laundry.”
“Surely a barbarian slut could be of no interest to Master,” I said.
“Barbarians look well,” he said, “naked, collared, chained, licking and kissing at one’s feet, bringing the whip to a fellow in their teeth, and such.”
“I have laundry to deliver,” I said.
“Remain where you are,” he said.
“There is another, of course,” I said.
“I know,” he said.
“Oh?” I said.
“What do you know of it?” he asked.
“Very little,” I said. “It is the pet of Lady Bina.”
“Do not be naive,” he said.
“Master?” I asked.
“Do you know what form of life it is?” he asked.
“No,” I said.
“It is Kur,” he said.
So he knew that word.
“I know little of such things,” I said.
“What,” he asked, “is it doing on Gor, and what, too, is the Lady Bina doing on Gor?”
“I do not know,” I said.
“You are stupid,” he said.
“I find Master hateful,” I said.
“You would look well at my feet,” he said.
“I have laundry to deliver,” I said.
“Do not move,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“You would find out what it is to be owned by a man,” he said.
“A slave thanks Master,” I said, “for his intervention in her behalf, in the matter of the laundry. With his permission, she now begs to be dismissed, that she may be about her work.”
“Are you red-silk?” he asked.
“Of what business is that of Master?” I asked. Then I said, quickly, “Yes, I am red-silk.”
One must be careful how one responds to a Gorean male, if one is a slave.
“But perhaps not yet,” he said, “in frequent, desperate need.”
“It seems not,” I said.
“You look well,” he said, “your arms up, bearing your burden.”
I was silent. I did not dare release the laundry and yet, holding it, my arms were lifted and, in effect, held in place, as much as though they were at the sides of my head, held in shackles, chained to a ceiling ring.
“Do women of your world bear burdens thusly?” he asked.
“Some do,” I said, “but not in the part of my world from which I derive.”
“You do it attractively,” he said.
This was partly an effect, I supposed, of the position of the arms, and its effect on the girl’s body. A common examination position, as noted earlier, requires the hands to be placed behind the neck, or at the back of the head. Too, there are chaining arrangements which fasten a girl’s wrists together, at the back of her neck.
“On my world,” I said, “I did not bear burdens.”
“You were of high caste?” he asked.
“I was well placed,” I said, “and of high social station.”
“And now you are a mere slave,” he said. “Excellent.”
“‘Excellent’?” I said, angrily.
“Certainly.” he said. “That makes you more interesting, once of superior station, now a reduced, meaningless chain slut.”
“Please release me, Master,” I said, angrily.
To this plea, there was no response.
I dared not turn my head.
“Master?” I said. “Master?”
He then came about, and was facing me.
It was indeed he of the Sul Market!
He was close to me, very close.
“Steady,” he said.
