he thrust up the brief skirting I had been permitted as a female slave, and, ruthlessly, used me. I threw back my head, reveling in his touch. Swiftly he finished with me and, cutting a length from the loose end of the strap which bound my wrists, rebound my ankles. My wrists and ankles were no longer bound to one another. I looked at him. There were tears in my eyes. I loved him. I wanted to tell him of my love. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him. He did not remove the gag. He did not permit me to speak. He threw me to his shoulder and carried me from the compartments.
27
I Kneel In The Yellow Circle
I lay at his feet, like a pet she-sleen, he, Clitus Vitellius, in his compartments, sitting in a curule chair. His hands were on the arms of the curved chair. He stared moodily out the window, at the towers of Ar.
I rose to kneel before him. 'Master,' I said. I did not think I could dissuade him. I wore a brief street tunic, his collar.
I put my head upon his knee. I felt his hand in my hair. There was a tear in my eye.
'You trouble me,' he said.
'I am sorry,' I said, 'if I have displeased you.'
'I do not understand the feeling I have toward you,' he said. He held my head between his hands, and looked down at me. 'You are a mere slave,' he said.
'Only your slave, Master,' I said.
He thrust me from him, to the floor. I looked up at him.
'And you are of Earth,' he said, 'only a wench of Earth, collared and enslaved.'
'Yes, Master,' I said, softly.
He stood, angrily. He had, in the past days, treated me with great brutality.
'I fear you,' he said, suddenly.
I was startled.
'I fear myself,' he said, angrily. 'I fear you, and myself,' he said. He glared down at me.
I shrank back from him, for I was a slave.
'You make me weak,' he said, angrily. 'I am a warrior of Ar.'
'A slave laughs at her master's weakness,' I shouted, angrily.
'Fetch the whip!' he cried in fury.
I ran to the whip and brought it to him, kneeling before him, thrusting it into his hands. I looked up at him, angrily. His hand seized my tunic at the neck and shoulder and prepared to tear it from me, that I might be hurled to the floor at his feet, to be put writhing beneath the sharp discipline of his domination. His hand was on my tunic, the whip was uplifted. Then he released my tunic and threw the whip from him. He held my head between his hands. 'Oh,' he said, 'you are an interesting and clever slave! That is one of the reasons you are so dangerous, Dina. You are so clever, so intelligent.'
'Whip me,' I begged.
'No,' he said, angrily.
'Does Master care for Dina?' I asked.
'How could I, Clitus Vitellius, a captain of Ar, care for a slave?' he demanded.
'Forgive a girl, Master,' I said.
'Should I free you?' he asked.
'No, Master,' I said. 'I could not then help myself. I would oppose my will to yours. I would strive against you.'
'Do not fear,' he said to me. 'I am Clitus Vitellius, of Ar. I do not free slaves.'
On the way to the Curulean we stopped at the Belled Collar. There Clitus Vitellius untied my hands, that I might, as though I were still a paga girl there, serve him.
'Will you not force me to the alcove?' I asked him.
'She-sleen,' he smiled, sipping his paga.
I saw Slave Beads serving men. It was early afternoon.
'I was quite good as a paga girl,' I said.
'I do not doubt it,' he said.
Various of the girls whom I remembered, and Slave Beads in particular, had, with the permission of Busebius, the tavern master, spoken with me and kissed me. I think several of them envied me my master, but I informed them that I was being taken to the Curulean, there to be sold.
'Do you need a slave girl, Master,' asked Helen, the Earth-girl dancer at the Belled Collar. She put out her hand, timidly, to touch his knee. 'Buy me,' she whispered. 'I will serve you well.' He cuffed her sharply back, bringing blood to her mouth. She looked up, frightened, from the floor. 'Dance for us, Earth wench,' he said. Her accent had betrayed her. 'Yes, Master,' she said. Before the table, to the music of some four musicians, Helen, commanded, danced before a Gorean master. There were tears in her eyes. Then he dismissed her, and she fled away. I was not displeased.
I saw Bran Loort entering the tavern with a basket of vegetables. He saw me, and looked away. He went to the kitchens. He did small work at the tavern.
'Where is Marla, Master?' I asked. I had regarded her as my greatest rival where Clitus Vitellius had been concerned.
'I sold her to a slaver,' said he, 'who specializes in the training of dancing girls.'
I remembered Marla's long dark hair, her beautiful face, her stunning figure. She would look well, belled, in the dancing sand, I thought. She would be a marvelous dancer.
'I gave Eta,' said Clitus Vitellius, 'to the guard, Mirus.'
'I am pleased, Master,' I said. I remembered the young, blond giant, Minis, how he had put her on the coffle in Tabuk's Ford. I had seen they had been intensely attracted to one another. Now he owned her. I thought Eta would be extremely happy. I was much pleased for her. Mirus, I had thought, had been the most attractive of the men of Clitus Vitellius, saving himself, of course.
'Slave Beads, as you know,' said Clitus Vitellius, 'is now owned by Busebius.'
'Yes, Master,' I said.
'Lehna, and Donna and Chanda,' said Clitus Vitellius, 'I gave to two of my men, Lehna to one, and Donna and Chanda to the other, for good service in war.'
I nodded. It is not unusual among warriors to bestow beautiful slave girls as rewards for good service or valor. Slave girls make lovely gifts.
'Are we to leave soon for the Curulean, Master?' I asked.
'Yes,' he said. 'But first I am awaiting the arrival of a friend.'
'May I ask whom, Master?' I asked.
'Only if you wish to be whipped,' he said.
I was silent.
'But you know him,' said Clitus Vitellius.
I looked at Clitus Vitellius, curious. But I did not ask. I did not wish to be whipped, certainly not before the other girls. There are diverse philosophies of discipline. Some masters believe a girl should be whipped only privately. Others believe she should be whipped whenever and wherever she deserves it, immediately, while her offense, such as it is, is fresh in her mind. Clitus Vitellius, perhaps wisely, believed it depended upon the girl and the context. Sometimes punishment is much more effective when a girl must wait for it. Generally a girl is not whipped before another girl who is owned by the same master. They only know, when the door is closed, that their sister in bondage is to be whipped. That is enough for them. I had little doubt, however, that Clitus Vitellius, in the present context, would hesitate to whip in the Belled Collar itself. He knew I would not care to be exposed and publicly put under the leather here where I had worked, and certainly not before the girls I knew. To be whipped with Helen watching, for example, would be almost unspeakable agony. I was very quiet.
