but only with being a slave and a woman. It is an indescribable, helpless feeling in the belly of us, being owned. One need not be intelligent to have this emotion, nor to respond, nor to feel.'
'Perhaps,' he said.
I wanted to scream. 'Please, Master,' I said.
'Do not move,' said he.
'Yes, Master,' I said, obeying.
I held myself rigid. Could the peasant boys have been more cruel?
'You do not think,' he asked, 'that the dull woman confuses slavery with the chains and the whip?'
'No, Master,' I said. I moaned in helplessness. 'I am not now chained,' I said. 'I am not now being whipped. But I could not be more a slave than now if I were chained to a whipping post and the lash being laid upon me. I am owned. I am completely in your power. I dare not even move. I must obey. This could be understood by any woman in my place.'
'But perhaps,' said he, musing, 'your understanding of your slavery, in virtue of your intelligence, your sensitivity, is much more intense, much deeper and richer than would be that of a duller woman?'
'Perhaps, Master,' I said. 'I do not know!'
'Do you wish to be permitted to move?' he asked.
'Yes,' I wept. 'Yes! Yes!'
'But you are not yet permitted to move,' he said.
'Yes, Master,' I sobbed.
'It is pleasant to own a beautiful Earth woman such as you,' he said.
'Yes, Master,' I said.
'To whom do you belong?' he asked.
'To you! To you, Master!' I said.
'But you are of Earth,' he said. 'How can you belong to a man?'
'I belong to you, to you, Master!' I said.
'In the past weeks,' he said, 'you have begun to disturb me.'
'Master?' I asked.
'Do not move,' he said.
'No, Master,' I sobbed.
'I do not understand it,' he said. 'It is very strange. Today I grew angry with you, and you had merely behaved as a slave.'
He referred to my yielding to the soldier in the morning.
'I am a slave, Master,' I said. 'I could not help myself.'
'I know,' he said. 'Why then should I be angry?'
'I do not know, Master,' I said.
He then touched me, and I cried out.
'Do not move,' he said.
'Have mercy on your girl, Master!' I begged.
With his touch he had again brought my sensations to the point at which I wanted to shatter and writhe and scream, and yet I must remain at his side, immobile, absolutely motionless.
'You are not important,' he said.
'No, Master,' I said.
'You are a worthless slave girl,' he said.
'Yes, Master,' I said.
'You can be bought or sold in any market,' he said, 'for a handful of copper tarsks.'
'Yes, Master,' I said.
'Why then,' he asked, 'do I concern myself with you?'
'I do not know, Master,' I said.
'You may move, Slave Girl,' he said.
With a wanton cry I pressed myself against him.
'You see,' he said, 'the women of Earth are natural slaves.'
'Yes, Master,' I wept.
'You are obviously only a common girl,' he said.
'Yes, Master!' I cried softly.
I began to lick at him beneath the chin and kiss him. I clutched at him. I wept and laughed and writhed, holding him.
'Only a common girl,' he said. 'Only a common slave.' I put my tear-stained cheek against the hardness of his chest, holding him. I could feel the hair on his chest between his body and the softness of my cheek. 'Yes, Master,' I whispered.
'You do not even have a name,' he said.
'No, Master,' I said.
'Of what importance is a nameless animal?' he asked.
'None, Master,' I said.
'How can you be of interest?' he asked.
'I do not know, Master,' I said.
'And yet you are a pretty little animal,' he said.
'Thank you, Master,' I said.
'I shall conquer you,' he said.
'You have conquered me long ago,' I said.
'I shall conquer you anew,' he said.
'Every time you look upon me, or touch me,' I said, 'I am conquered anew.' I felt his chest beneath my cheek. I held him in the darkness. 'I am your conquest, fully and completely, Master,' I said. 'I am your slave.'
'Perhaps my slave should have a name,' he said.
'As Master wills,' I said.
He took me by the shoulders and lifted and turned me. He put me beneath him. I felt the furs and the ground beneath my back. I felt his arms about me. I moaned as my body received and clasped him.
'Do not move,' he said.
'Yes, Master,' I said. I wanted to yield.
'I shall name you,' he said.
I lay in the darkness, helpless, imprisoned in the strength of his arms, waiting to learn whom I would be.
'The name,' he said, 'for you are a common girl, and worthless, should be an unimportant name, one plain and simple, one fitting for a valueless girl, an ignorant, branded she-slave such as you.'
'Yes, Master,' I said.
'You are even a barbarian,' he said.
'Yes, Master,' I said.
'Some men,' he said, 'enjoy putting a barbarian girl through her paces.'
'Put me through my paces, I beg of you, Master!' I wept.
'Do not move,' he cautioned.
'Yes, Master,' I wept. I so wanted to yield to him. I was on the brink of yielding, but he would not let me move. It was as though I wanted to burst.
'I myself,' he smiled, 'enjoy putting any girl, civilized or barbarian, through her paces.'
'Yes, Master,' I said.
'Did you know,' he asked, 'that in the throes of slave orgasm there is no difference between a civilized and barbarian girl?'
'No, Master,' I said.
'It is interesting,' he said. 'In slave orgasm they are spasmodically identical.'
'We are all women, only women,' I said, 'in the arms of our masters.'
'Doubtless that is it,' he mused.
