payable to the city, should young males wish to partake of their pleasures. Here again, the mere word of the free person, that he is not completely pleased, is enough to earn the miserable girl a severe beating. Accordingly, she struggles to please him with all her might. It is not pleasant, I fear, to be a public slave. The Gorean free woman, often, does only what work she chooses. If she does not wish to prepare a meal, she and her companions may go to the public tables, or, should they wish, order a girl to bring them food from the central kitchens. But I found, perhaps surprisingly, that I did not much mind the work of the female work slave. I recognized that it was essential, that it had to be done. I recognized further that there was something farcical in the thought of the Gorean male lending his hand to such small, unimportant work. It would have been like the larl with a broom. I could well imagine the accommodating solicitous males of Earth in aprons, puttering about with vacuum cleaners and boxes of detergent, but I could not imagine it of the Gorean male. He is so different from the males of Earth, so powerful, so strong, so uncompromised, so masculine. Before him it is hard for a female not to know herself as smaller and weaker, and thus to be given the tasks he does not care to perform. Similarly the Gorean free woman does not seem appropriately suited to menial tasks. She is too free, too proud. It is difficult for a collared slave girl to even to look into the eyes of such a person. Thus, who is to do such work? The answer seems obvious, that it be done by the slaves. The small, light, unpleasant work will be done by the female slave; the large, heavy, unpleasant work by the draft animal, or the male slave. Why should free persons do such tasks? They have slaves for such work. And I well knew myself to be a slave. It was thus natural that it should be. I, and my sisters in bondage, who performed such labors. How else could it have been?
'Hurry, Slave! Hurry in your work!' cried Ute.
I did so.
I did my work quietly, and seldom spoke to the other girls, not did they much speak to me. Though I often worked with then, I was, it seemed, always alone. When they sang at their work, or enjoyed laughter and sport, I did not sing, nor did I laugh, nor join them in their pleasures. I worked well. I was, I expect, one of Ute's best workers. Sometimes, when I would finish my work, I would help the other girls with theirs.
Once, when I was helping Inge, she said to me, 'I thought you were too delicate to be beaten.'
'I was mistaken,' I said.
She laughed.
I no longer had an interest in lying or cheating, or shirking my work. I suppose, in part, it was that I was afraid of being punished. Surely I had not, and could not, forget the iron nor the whip's hot kiss. I much feared them. I could no longer even look on a slave whip without a feeling of terror, for I understood now the pain of its meaning, and what it might do to me. If a guard even lifted one, I would cringe. I would obey, and with promptness! Do not scorn me, until you yourself have felt the iron and the lash. But, too, somehow, perhaps unaccountably, lying and stealing now seemed to me small, and trivial, too petty to perform. I no longer regarded such behavior as clever, but now, rather, as unworthy or stupid, where one was caught or not. I had thought much in the slave box. I was not much pleased with how I had found myself to be. I knew that my body was a slave body, and that it was owned, and that it stood in constant jeopardy of fierce, swift punishment by a strong master, whether it might deserve that punishment or not. But, too, I felt I had, according to Gorean justice, well earned my beating and my branding, and my tortuous confinement in the slave box. I did not wish again to earn such punishment, not simply because I feared it, but because it seemed to me unworthy that I should have done the things for which I was punished. In the slave box, alone with myself, I discovered I did not wish to be the sort of person I had been, I had not been pleased to be locked in the box alone with myself, with such a person, forced there to face her and realize that she was your own self.
'Pierced-ear Girl!' cried a man. 'Kneel.'
I did so.
With his foot, he thrust me from his path, laughing, and continued on his way. Sometimes the other girls would trip me when I was carrying burdens, or dirty the work which I had done, that I must do over.
Once two warriors, for a joke, tied my ankles together and suspended me, upside down, from the whipping pole, spinning me about, and back, until I vomited and cried out for mercy. Laughing they then left, and Ute, with Rena, released me. 'They are cruel,' said Ute.
I wept, and kissed her feet.
I found that I no longer desired to serve in the evening, even should there be feasting. I wanted only my work, and to be left alone. In the evening, I wanted only the silence and darkness of the shed, with its padlocked door. In my flesh I wore penalty brands.
'Let El-in-or be it!' cried Ute, when the girls were playing tag.
'No,' they cried.
'Do it,' said Ute.
'Please, Ute,' I begged, 'let me go to the shed.'
'Very well,' said Ute.
And I went back to the shed.
The contempt and amusement which greeted me in the camp made me form within myself a core of hardness. I became withdrawn. I no longer desired to serve in the evening, should there be feasting. I wanted only my work, and the silence and darkness of the shed, with its padlocked door.
I wanted to be alone in the shed, behind the locked door.
There was only one thing left to me, in which I might take pride, that I was not as other women. No matter what brands might be fixed to my flesh, nor what the leather might do to my back or the tiny dimensions of the slave box to my body, I knew I did not have their weaknesses. I recalled the circle of the dance in the northern forest, and how even Verna, the proud Verna, had, beside herself with need, writhed helplessly beneath the bright moons of Gor, a female. How I had then despised her, and the others, so helpless and vulnerable and female! How weak they were! How pleased I was that I was not as they. Gradually, in me, there built up a compensating hatred to counter my shame, and the brands that proclaimed me among the most unworthy and miserable of slaves. I began to hate human beings. I was better than they. I would be better than they. I began to do my work with great efficiency and promptness, better than the other girls. I became exact in my speech, and, though I did not much express myself, quite critical of others. In spite of my brands, I would be superior to them all. I began to wear a new morality with a smugness. I became arrogant in my virtue, to the irritation of the other girls, but I did not care, for I was better than they. I would not now lie or cheat or steal, of course, but not now because I did not care for that sort of thing, or did not wish to behave in such a fashion, but primarily because I was not the sort of person who would do that sort of thing. Virtue, I discovered, in one way in which a human being may attempt to diminish and insult others. I used the blade of cooperativeness, of virtue, of diligence, of punctuality to proclaim myself on my moral superiority as a woman, above the self-indulgent, contaminating weaknesses of their piteous need. I was not as they.
'Tonight,' cried Ute, happily, 'you will serve, all of you!'
The girls cried out with pleasure.
This afternoon, for the first time in weeks, the raids of Rask of Treve had been successful. Eleven girls had been brought in, and much treasure. Laughing, bloody tarnsmen, with strings of pearls thrown about their necks, and cups and goblets tied at their saddles, and their saddle packs bulging with the weight of golden tarn disks, had brought their tarns down, wings beating, to receive the greetings of the camp. Merchants brought sides of bosk, and thighs of tarsk, and wines and fruits to camp, and cheeses and breads and nuts, and flowers and candies and silks and honeys. There was much bustle and laughter about the camp, much preparation and shouting. In the women's tent, eleven girls, tomorrow to be collared, crouched in fear. Slave girls staggered under the plunder, carrying it to the tents of the warriors.
'Tonight,' had cried Rask of Treve, blood on his shield, his eyes like those of laughing tarns, 'we will feast!'
The men had clashed their weapons on their shields and the girls had scurried away that the feast might be prepared.
I would not serve, of course, for Ute would excuse me. She knew I was not as the other girls. In the shed, scornfully, I watched them, eagerly speaking about the evening, laughing and joking. Such might well serve men.
Then, at Ute's call, they went from the shed, happily, to receive silks and bells.
How I scorned them, such pitiful weaklings!
I remained in the shed. I would retire early. I would need rest, for I must work tomorrow.
'El-in-or, come forth!' I heard. It was Ute's voice.
I was puzzled.
I got to my feet and went outside the shed. There was a mirror there, and cosmetics and silks and bells. There were no men about. The girls were preparing themselves.
I looked at Ute.
'Remove your clothing,' she said.
'No!' I cried. 'No!'
I quickly, in anguish, removed the garment. There was a jangle of slave bells, wrapped in a bit of silk, as Ute threw me bells and silk.
'Please, Ute!' I wept. 'No!'
The other girls looked up from their work, and laughed.
'Ute,' I begged, 'please, please no!'
'Make yourself pleasing, Slave,' said Ute, and turned away.
I slipped on the bit of silk. I looked in the mirror and shuddered. I had been naked before men, many times, but it did not seem to me that I had been so naked as this. It was Gorean pleasure silk. Not naked, I seemed more than naked. I waited my turn before the mirror and applied the cosmetics of the Gorean slave girl. I knew well how to do this, for I had been trained.
I buckled the slave bells on my left and right ankles, and then I went to Ute. 'Please, Ute,' I begged.
She smiled. 'You come to ask to be belled?' she asked.
I put my head down. Ute was adamant. 'Yes,' I said.
Ute took the other slave bells and buckled one strap, with its two small buckles, like the ankle straps, except smaller, about my left wrist, and then buckled the other strap, with its two small buckles, about my right wrist.
I was belled.
I stood about, miserably, while the other girls finished their primping. How exciting they were in their silk, their bells and cosmetics.
'You are not unattractive,' said Ute to me.
I said nothing. I was miserable.
In a few minutes, Ute, who retained her work tunic, and would not serve, reviewed us, commenting here and there, and recommending small changes upon
