The Lady Florence cried out with pleasure and clapped her hands together in triumph. The Lady Leta and the Lady Perimene, too clapped their hands and laughed with pleasure. Then, for a moment they struck their left shoulders in Gorean applause, congratulating the Lady Florence on her triumph over her long-term enemy.
'On your hands and knees, Slave Girl,' said Tenalion of Ar, who had risen to his feet. From the box beside him he had taken a collar, with a chain loop, and a length of chain.
'May I present our friend Tenalion in a new light to you?' inquired the Lady Florence of the naked, shuddering slave near the ring. 'I was somewhat obscure, as seemed fitting, concerning his business to you. He is, of course, a slaver, as is his man, Ronald.'
There was a decisive click as Tenalion locked the collar on the slender, lovely throat of the new slave. It fitted, snugly. Slavers can tell a woman's collar size at a glance. She sobbed, head down, on her hands and knees, at the ring. She was now collared. Tenalion crouched beside her. It interested me that Tenalion, a slaver of Ar, was in the vicinity of Vonda. I was curious as to what the reason for that might be. It was doubtless only a coincidence, I assumed. The chain loop depended from the girl's collar. Her breasts, now those of a slave, given her posture, depended beautifully from her body. Tenalion snapped the lock at the end of the length of chain he carried about the chain loop on the girl's collar. Such women, thriftless, then indigent, on my old world, Earth, I supposed, might be supported indefinitely at public expense. Tenalion then snapped the lock-loop at the other end of the length of chain about the iron ring in the tiles. The former Lady Melpomene of Vonda, now a nameless slave, collapsed to her belly, sobbing, on the scarlet tiles, chained by the neck to a slave ring. Goreans do not see fit to reward improvidence.
'Bring a slave whip!' cried the Lady Florence, leaping to her feet.
Pamela hurried from the room.
Brandon, though a prefect in Vonda, rose to his feet and carried papers to the Lady Leta and the Lady Perimene. They were, after all, free women. They affixed the seal of their witnessing signatures to the documents. He then returned to his place and himself signed the papers.
Pamela hurried back, pressing into the hands of the Lady Florence a long-handled, five-bladed Gorean slave whip.
She seized the whip with two hands and turned to look at Brandon.
I heard the stamp of Brandon strike on the papers before him. He looked up at the Lady Florence, and smiled. 'The papers are in perfect order,' he said.
'I have waited long for this moment!' cried the Lady Florence. 'We have been rivals, and enemies, for years!' she said to the prone slave. 'How I have despised you in your pride and pretensions, how I hated you, how I held you in contempt! And now you are fully mine, helpless and at my mercy!'
The girl sobbed.
'I name you Melpomene!' cried the Lady Florence.
The girl shook with uncontrollable sobs.
'Kneel to the whip, Melpomene!' she ordered her.
Melpomene then, sobbing, knelt, her legs close together, her wrists held crossed under her, as though bound, her head down, touching the floor, the bow of her back exposed, a slave girl awaiting punishment.
'Triumph! Joy!' cried the Lady Florence. Then, holding the whip with two hands, she lashed savagely down at the slave. She struck her again and again, as though in maddened fury. The struck girl, crying out with misery could not hold the position.
'Do you dare to obstruct a blow of the whip!' cried the Lady Florence to the girl who lay now terrified and supine, in pain, wild, her hands trying to fend the leather away, at her feet.
'No, no!' cried the girl.
'No, what!' cried the Lady Florence.
'No, Mistress!' cried the girl.
'On your belly,' said Tenalion to the slave. 'Hold to the slave ring with both hands'
The girl obeyed. The Lady Florence then again, wildly, angrily, laid the leather to the lovely back of her former rival. I smiled to myself. Tenalion, though doubtless a strict master, was merciful. He was helping the girl to endure her first beating. Usually, of course, a girl is tied or chained for her beatings. Sometimes, however, she is not secured but merely ordered to hold the ring. After the first two or three strokes it is sometimes difficult to pry her fingers from the iron. The most merciful thing, is my opinion, however, is always to tie or chain the girl. The beating can then be straightforward and efficient. The Lady Florence was now gasping. Holding the whip clenched in her hands, standing over the slave, gasping for breath, she stopped.
'Do you beg to be whipped?' she asked.
'No, Mistress!' wept the girl on her belly at the ring.
'Beg!' cried the Lady Florence.
'I beg to be whipped, Mistress,' she wept.
'Very well,' cried the Lady Florence, and then, again, she struck at the girl. Then, after a few blows, five blows, she stepped back, and threw aside the whip. The girl lay at her feet, sobbing, shuddering, her hands white on the ring, her back richly striped with the blows of the whip. The Mistress returned to her place, exhausted. The Lady Florence was not strong. She had only a woman's strength. I observed the back of the girl. It was red, and covered with an intricate pattern of deeper reds, as stripes, but it was not bleeding, nor was it cut. The Gorean slave whip is made to punish a girl, and terribly, but it is not made to permanently mark or scar her. A girl with a scarred back brings a lower price in the markets. Melpomene sobbed in pain and disbelief at the ring. She had not known what it could be to be beaten. I had no doubt she would now be docile, helpless and obedient, a true slave girl. Yet I could not help smiling to myself. I wondered what would have been her reaction had she been beaten not by a mere woman, but by a man, with a man's strength.
'On your knees, Melpomene,' snapped the Lady Florence.
'Yes, Mistress,' wept the girl.
'Feed and water the slave,' said the Lady Florence to Bonnie.
'Yes, Mistress,' said Bonnie. She brought forth a pan of crusts and one of water, which she placed before Melpomene, on the floor.
'You see what an indulgent Mistress I am, Melpomene,' said the Lady Florence. 'I permit a slave to eat before our supper is finished'
'Yes, Mistress,' whispered Melpomene.
'From whom do you receive your food and water?' inquired the Lady Florence.
'From you, Mistress,' said Melpomene. The chain dangled from her collar, down, between her thighs, to the ring.
'Eat,' said the Lady Florence.
'Yes, Mistress,' said Melpomene. She reached for one of the crusts.
'Melpomene!' said the Lady Florence.
'Mistress?' asked the girl, frightened
'Do not use your hands,' she said.
'Yes, Mistress,' said the girl. She then bent forward and, the palms of her hands on the tiles, began to eat from the pan. Too, as she ate, she lapped at the water.
'Pamela, Bonnie,' called the Lady Florence, 'we are now ready for the second course of our supper.'
'Yes, Mistress,' they said, and hurried to fetch the second course.
'It is a small dish,' said the Lady Florence, 'the white meat of roast vulos, prepared in a sauce of spiced Sa-Tarna and Ta wine.'
The guests expressed a murmur of pleasure and anticipation. 'It will be wonderful,' said the Lady Leta.
The Lady Florence turned to the musicians, who were sitting to one side. 'You may play,' she said.
'Yes, Lady Florence,' said the czehar player, their leader.
I looked at the girl at the ring, head down, feeding as a she-sleen.
'Why have I been brought here?' I asked Kenneth.
'Be patient,' said Kenneth.
'Yes, Master,' I said.
The dinner proceeded in a leisurely fashion through seven of its courses. There was light banter and charming conversation. The playing of the musicians was pleasant, and unobtrusive.
