easily be looped on the back of a wagon, and I would follow, naked, barefoot, behind the wagon, in the dust. Melina was clever.
'This is the slave,' said Melina.
Startled, suddenly frightened, I clutched the post. It was an involuntary reaction. But, tied as I was, I could not have helped but seize it beautifully. I then realized Melina had wanted to startle me, from the direction from which she had approached, and the suddenness of her assertion. The man had seen the reaction of a beautiful, startled slave girl, bound at a post. It had been completely natural. Melina had intended that it would be.
I decided that I would be an Earth-girl slave, the desirability of whose flesh was being assessed, tied in a peasant village. I did not know what else to do, and that is what I was. On this world I was a beautiful barbarian and alien, from a world quite different, one which had not prepared me for their world. Perhaps Gorean men might find it of interest to own, and tame and train me. Earth girls, I had heard from Eta, made superb slaves. I supposed it was true.
'How are you, little vulo?' he said.
'Well, Master,' I said.
'She is barbarian,' he said.
'Oh?' said Melina. She knew I was barbarian.
'Open your mouth,' said the man.
I opened my mouth.
'See?' he said to Melina. He had his fingers in my mouth, opening it widely. 'In the back tooth, on the top, on the left,' he said, 'a tiny bit of metal.'
'Physicians can do that,' said Melina.
'Are you from a place called Earth?' asked the man.
'Yes, Master,' I said.
'See?' he asked Melina.
'Clever slave,' said Meina.
I feared I would be switched.
'I am Tupelius Milius Lactantius, of the Lactantii, of the merchants, of Ar,' he said to me, 'but we fell upon hard times, and I, though only eight at the time, fell as well, it being my duty, caste discipline, family pride and such.'
I smiled.
'She smiles well,' he said. 'In the villages I am known as Tup Ladletender,' he said. 'What is your name?'
'What do you think of her?' asked Melina.
The man regarded me. 'She is obvious collar meat,' he said.
I felt shamed at the post. It was obvious to the eyes of a Gorean male that I was a slave. It was only a question as to my price, and to whom I would belong.
'Is she not pretty?' asked Melina.
'In the cities,' said he, 'such girls are numerous. In Ar alone, each year, thousands of such girls are vended and procured in the slave markets.'
I shuddered.
'What is her value?' demanded Melina.
'I could get for her, at best,' he conjectured, 'only a handful of copper tarsks.'
I knew that I was a beautiful slave. What I had not realized was that slave beauty was so plentiful on Gor. Beautiful slaves are not unusual on this world. Beauty in collars was cheap on Gor. Girls more beautiful than I often slaved in the kitchens of great houses or, in state tunics and chains, scrubbed the floors of public buildings at night.
Melina was not pleased.
'Do you not want her?' she asked.
He caressed my flanks, and I held the post. 'She is not without interest,' he said.
Suddenly, without warning, he touched me, and I cried out, my body thrusting against the post, my hands clutching it, my eyes closed. I could not help myself.
'Ah,' he said.
I opened my eyes, startled.
'She is a hot slave,' he said. 'That is good. That is very good.'
'How hot is she?' asked Melina.
Again he touched me, and I cried out, miserable, bound. I could not help myself.
He laughed. 'Very hot,' he said. He laughed. Then he said, 'Steady, little vulo.'
'Please, Master, don't!' I begged.
Then I cried out, and began to writhe at the post. My fingernails tore at the wood. 'Stop!' I wept. 'Please, stop Master!'
He withdrew his hands and I shuddered against the post, fearing only that he might again so touch me.
He stood up.
'How hot is she?' asked Melina.
'She is hot enough to be a paga slut,' he said.
'Excellent!' said Melina.
'Yet,' said he, 'still I think I could get only tarsks for her.'
'Why is that?' inquired Melina.
'The wars,' he said, 'the raids, the falls of cities. There are many beauties, many of them even formerly free, who find themselves upon the block these days, being sold for. a pittance of tarsks.'
'But are they as hot as this one?' demanded Melina.
'Yes, many of them,' he said. 'Brand a girl, put her in chains, give her a bit of training, and in a week she is panting, hot and ready for a master.'
'So soon?' asked Melina.
'Yes,' he said, 'take a woman, any woman, not just these Earth girls, who are slave meat, but any woman, even one who is Gorean, and free, and of high caste, even one who is an iceberg, lock a collar on her, which she cannot remove; teach her she is a slave; and she will turn to fire.'
Melina laughed. I reddened, bound at the post. How grievously had the women of Earth been slandered! Did they not know I was a woman of Earth? Of course they knew! How casually, how unthinkably, they spoke in the presence of a slave I But I wondered if it were true. If it were true, in Gorean law, it could be no slander.
'Lock a collar on her,' said the man, putting his hands about my neck, as though they were a collar. I tensed, my throat collared in his hands. I knew he could crush my throat easily with his Gorean strength, did he choose. I felt very helpless. He removed his hands from my neck and put them in my hair. He tightened his hands, and pulled my head back. 'Teach her she is a slave,' he said. I cried out as he tightened his hands further in my hair, and pulled my head back further. He caused me only enough pain to let me know what he could do to me if he chose. Involuntarily I shuddered, acknowledging him as male and master. He removed his hands from my hair. I tensed at the post. I felt his hands at my flanks. 'And,' he said, chuckling, 'she will turn to fire.' He touched me, and I cried out, tears in my eyes, biting at the wood with my teeth.
'Hot enough to be a paga slut,' said Melina.
'Yes,' he agreed.
The women of Earth had been pronounced slave meat. I wept. If this were true, it was, in Gorean law, no slander.
I hoped that he would not touch me again.
The women of Earth are slave meat, I thought. I am a woman of Earth. I clung to the post, slave meat.
'Pretty slave meat,' he said, gently touching my flanks.
I wondered if all the women of Earth were slave meat. I knew only that I, undeniably, was such. Perhaps others were not. Let other girls, in their secret heart, ask themselves that question. They need tell no one the answer to that most private and revealing of questions, unless perhaps they meet one before whom they can speak only the truth, their master. Perhaps the matter is hormonal. Perhaps there are hormones which fit a girl for slavery, as there are hormones which fit a man for mastery. I do not know.
