myself to think disapproved thoughts. Was I not of Earth? Was I not a true man, capable of conquering myself? Why, I wondered, should I conquer myself? Why should I not allow myself to be victorious? Then, again, chagrined, embarrassed, I thrust such thoughts from my mind.
But who is stronger, truly, I asked myself, he who continues to wound and bleed himself to please others, or he who refuses any longer to do so?
I shook my head, to force such a thought out of my mind.
The girl lifted her head. The bowl was clean. I picked up the bowl and carried it to the side, where I placed it on a small shelf.
'Thank you for feeding me, Master,' she said.
I took a bit of her hair and, gently, wiped her mouth. To my surprise she put her teeth gently on my hand, and then licked and kissed at my hand. She then drew her head back. 'You are not going to beat me, are you, Master?' she asked.
'Be silent,' I said.
'Yes, Master,' she said.
I looked at Lola. I forced myself to remember that she, in spite of her beauty and her collar, was a person. I looked at the small key, on its wire, dangling from her collar, between her breasts. It was; doubtless, the key to her confining bracelets. I must free her. Yet, as I looked down at her, I must admit that I enjoyed having her at my mercy. I knew, of course, despite the fact that she was a woman and I was a man, and that she was then to me as my own slave and I to her as her true master, that I must not permit myself this pleasure. It hinted too clearly at my dominance over her by nature, a dominance which I knew I must not permit myself to exercise, indeed, a dominance which I, of Earth, was not even supposed to permit myself to recognize. It was not congenial to the contemporary political myths of my planet. Men, not so long ago, I recalled, had not even been permitted to recognize that they were animals. Now, it seemed, although they might be granted a token permission to recognize their animality, they were refused permission to recognize the sort of animals they were. I wondered if there could be a politics which did not betray truth. Perhaps such a politics, something beyond theater and myths, might someday emerge upon the forge of history.
'There is a bucket of water at the side of the cell,' I said. 'Go there and drink. Then return and be again before me, as you are now.'
'Yes, Master,' she said. She went to the side of the room and knelt down. There was a wooden bucket there, with slatted sides, hooped with iron. It was full. She put her head down and drank. Meanwhile I put the wine, that in the shallow, chipped clay bowl, on the shelf to one side. The girl did not pay me the least attention in this. She did not expect to receive any of the wine. She was a slave. It was more than sufficient that she should kneel at the bucket and, braceleted, drink from it. Indeed, I had not forced her to crawl on her belly to a shallow pan. I wanted the table free.
I returned to the bench and sat down. In a moment the girl, again, was kneeling before me.
'Thank you, Master,' she said. She had been fed and watered.
I rose to my feet and walked about her. I suppose I should not have done so, but she was so incredibly beautiful. It was s pleasure to see her displayed, fully, in her beauty and steel. She knelt very straight before me, a bit tensely, back on her heels, her knees wide. How marvelous it must be to own such a slave, I thought.- Then I reminded myself that she was a person. There was something about her, subtle, in her breathing and body tone, which I could not place at the time. Too, there was an exciting odor emanating from her, easily detectable in the Gorean air, even in the pens. A man of Earth I did not even fully register or comprehend these signs. I had never seen them manifested in an Earth woman, at least in such degree. As I now understand she was attempting to hold herself still and control herself, but her body was betraying her. The evidence was manifest, exposed before my senses, but I, as a naive fool of Earth, did not even fully understand what was presented before me. I had at my feet an aroused slave girl.
I put my hands on her upper arms, good-naturedly, not understanding her shuddering, and lifted her to her feet. 'Master,' she begged. I knew I must free her. She had caused me a great deal of bother. I then lifted her from her feet, by one arm and an ankle. I was startled. I had not realized I could handle her so easily, nor, I think, had she realized it. 'Master,' she begged, 'please.' I then, less gently than I should have, perhaps, threw her on her belly on the table. She tensed, and lay very still. I threw her hair forward. I twisted her collar about until I had the wire and the key attached to it. I unwound the wire and placed it, with its key, at the side of the girl's head. I readjusted the collar on her neck, so that the small, heavy lock was again at the back of her neck. I observed the small hairs on the back of her neck, her hair thrown forward, and the steel, with its lock, on her neck, snug. I thrust the tiny key into the locks on the slave bracelets and, with two small, heavy clicks, and an opening of metal, removed them from her. I put the key, with the wire, and the bracelets, on the bench.
'My hands are now free, that I may please you more,' she whispered. She lay before me, on her stomach, her hair thrown forward. Her hands were beside her, their backs to the table. This exposed their palms to me. The palms of a girl's hands are extremely sensitive and erotic. I resisted the impulse to trace lightly in the palm of her left hand a small cursive 'Kef,' the staff and fronds, that letter used commonly in the branding of female slaves.
The girl lay still. She did not move. This irritated me. Had I not freed her of the bracelets? I realize now that she was waiting to be commanded to my pleasure.
She moaned.
I looked at her. She was very beautiful, and it was extremely difficult to remind myself that I must not treat her as the marvelous and exciting woman she was but rather as a person, a thing to which its maleness or femaleness was incidental and unimportant.
'Master?' she asked.
Then, suddenly, for an instant, I saw her as Lola, stripped and collared slave, who had caused me much misery, end who now lay before me, mine to do with as I wished. she suddenly tensed, sensing the difference in my attitude. My hands, angrily, gripped the edge of the table.
'Do not whip me, Master,' she begged. 'Let me try to please you. If I do not please you, then whip me.'
'Do you bargain?' I asked.
'No, Master,' she cried. 'No, Master! Forgive me, Master! Please forgive me, Master!'
'Be silent,' I told her.
'Yes, Master,' she said.
I enjoyed having Lola at my mercy. Then I reminded myself that she was not to be treated according to the harsh modalities of nature, those of dominance and submission, and the enforcement of order. She was, of course, a person.
Did she truly think that I, a man of Earth, would treat her as a slave?
Surely she must know that she had nothing to fear from one such as I who would treat her with dignity and respect.
Then, suddenly, looking at her, I felt a flood of anger. It was she who had wished for me to receive twenty blows of the snake.
I flung the table up and to one side, throwing her to the floor. The table was half way across the cell.
Then she was at my feet, on the stones, kneeling in the straw, her head down, her hair before her face. I felt her lips, through her hair, kissing at my feet. Never had I dreamed that I would even meet so beautiful a woman, let alone have her in my power, attempting to placate me.
I looked down at the woman, her head down. 'Lola begs to please Master,' she wept. I felt, looking down at her, throughout my entire body, an incredible surge of force and power, of exhilaration. I threw back my head and laughed. She kept her head down. She trembled. Lola, I think, had heard such a laugh before. The feelings which swept me were almost incomprehensible and inutterably magnificent. I looked down at her. She was at my feet. I knew then, with a clarity and force far beyond those of argument and theory, that I stood in the order of nature. Laughing I crouched down, over her. I put my hands in her hair. I pulled her head up. Her eyes were closed. Her face, to my amazement, was rapturous. 'Yes, Master,' she said, 'yes!' I prepared to hurl her to her back on the straw and stones, and treat her as what she was, a woman, and a slave. And then I remembered that I was a man of Earth. I released her hair. I seized her by the arms and threw her back from me. I clenched my fists. I cried out with frustration and misery. She was then on her hands and knees, on the stones. She looked at me, frightened. Then, again, quickly, she knelt. 'Master?' she asked.
