She regarded herself in the mirror. 'I am a slave,' she said.
'Yes,' said the girl with the switch. She poked the kneeling girl with the switch. 'Do not cry,' she warned.
'No, Mistress,' said the kneeling girl.
'Are you truly disappointed?' asked the girl with the switch.
'No, Mistress,' she said. 'It is only that I am not used to seeing myself like this.'
She had been forced to make herself up to be maddeningly sensuous.
'Surely you would prefer for your master to see you in terms of desire and not in terms of discipline,' said the standing girl.
'Yes, Mistress,' said the girl at the mirror, fervently.
'Do you object?' asked the girl with the switch.
'No, Mistress,' said the kneeling girl.
'Are you not, rather, pleased to see how you look?' asked the girl with the switch.
'I did not know I could look like this,' said the kneeling girl.
'How do you think you look?' asked the girl with the switch.
'Sensuous, and exciting,' said the kneeling girl.
'Yes,' said the girl with the switch.
'How could a man see me as aught but a slave, like this?' asked the kneeling girl.
'But you are naught but a slave,' said the girl with the switch. 'Do you doubt that?'
'No, Mistress,' said the kneeling girl.
'And a pretty one,' said the girl with the switch.
'Yes, Mistress,' said the kneeling girl.
'Look in the mirror, closely,' ordered the girl with the switch.
'Yes, Mistress,' said the kneeling girl.
'What do you see?' demanded the girl with the switch.
'A slave,' said the kneeling girl.
'Say, 'I am a slave, ' said the girl with the switch.
'I am a slave,' said the kneeling girl, regarding herself in the mirror.
'Do not forget it,' said the girl with the switch.
'No, Mistress,' said the kneeling girl.
'Look now again into the mirror, little slave,' said the girl with the switch.
'Yes, Mistress,' said the kneeling girl.
'Men will make that girl serve them well, will they not?'
'Yes, Mistress,' said the kneeling girl.
'And that is fitting, is it not, for she is a slave?'
'Yes, Mistress,' said the kneeling girl.
'And she is very beautiful.'
'Thank you, Mistress,' said the kneeling girl.
'And are you not pleased to be she?' inquired the girl with the switch.
'Yes, Mistress,' said the kneeling girl, 'I am pleased to be she.'
'Then what is wrong?' inquired the girl with the switch.
'I am afraid,' said the girl kneeling before the mirror, trembling. 'I am afraid to be presented before my Master.'
'A suitable fear for a slave,' said the girl with the switch.
'What does he look like? What manner of man is he?' asked the kneeling girl.
'You will learn, Slave,' said the girl with the switch.
'But what if he does not find me pleasing?' she asked, fearfully.
'You are a slave girl,' said the girl with the switch. 'It is up to you to see that he finds you pleasing.'
'What shall I do?' begged the kneeling girl, looking piteously up at the girl with the switch.
'Be beautiful, and humble,' said the girl with the switch.
As the light was arranged I could, through the curtain, see the girls easily; they, on the other hand, because of the same arrangement of light, and because I had set no light behind me, in the room within which I stood, were totally unable to see me. They were, so to speak, visually at my mercy. This, incidentally, is not an unusual arrangement in a Gorean house, particularly in rooms where slaves might be kept or found. This represents a convenience for the master. Also it is thought to be helpful in the management of a woman, that, when the master wishes, she can be brought secretly under observation. Too, it might be noted that only a curtain separated the cosmetics room from the rest of the house. This sort of thing, too, is not that uncommon where rooms which may be occupied by slaves are found. Such curtains, without ceremony, may be thrust aside, startling the slave and revealing the keeper or master.
Slaves, of course, being mere articles of property, are not entitled to privacy. They may be entered upon as often, and however, one wishes. The Gorean master does not require the permission of a slave to enter a room, no more than the man of Earth requires the permission of his dog to enter a room. This lack of privacy, to be expected, given the lowly condition of the slave, is revealed even in details so obvious as almost to be taken for granted, such as the fact that slave kennels and slave alcoves are almost invariably barred, rather than given opaque portals, say, with observation apertures closed by sliding metal panels, the opening of which might warn the slave of the presence of those under whose governance she finds herself.
She knows that she is exposed to the view of masters, or available for their viewing, whenever they might please to do so, at any hour, either of the day or night. She may be looked in upon, she knows, and is sometimes certain that she is, even when she sleeps. This is similar, too, of course, to the situation of the man of Earth and his dog. He, too, may look upon his dog whenever and however he pleases, even when, if he wishes, the animal, curled in its place, is asleep. That is his privilege.
The analogy, incidentally, between the dog of the man of Earth and the slave girl of the Gorean male is a quite close one. Of course, the analogy is not perfect. It is, for example, far more delicious to own a slave girl than a dog. To be perfectly candid, however, the slave girl is a lovely, vulnerable, highly sensitive organism; the rational master commonly, unless she chooses to be troublesome, handles her with delicacy and affection; if she is displeasing, of course, even in small ways, she must expect to be shown little or no mercy; on the other hand, if she is obedient and loving, her life is likely to be a joy almost incomprehensible to the neurotic, masculinized, egotistical women of Earth.
The slave girl, subject to male domination, surrendered to service and love, branded and collared, serving and kneeling, is, under the institutional enhancements of a civilization, fixing her condition upon her with uncompromising clarity, in effect, the primitive woman, the biological woman, the selected-for woman, the woman in her place in nature, the fulfilled woman. It is little wonder then that slaves, in a situation where their condition is scarcely unique, and in a supportive, appropriate cultural matrix, where they are free, without being subjected to envious, vicious, hysterical criticism, to be themselves, tend, once the right master is found, to be relieved and happy. The collar, in effect, has returned them to themselves. They have become women. And, to be sure, the Gorean men will have it no other way.
'Am I to be presented to my Master clothed?' asked the kneeling girl.
'At least in the beginning,' said the girl with the switch.
'I see,' said the kneeling girl.
'Stand,' said the girl with the switch.
Immediately, gracefully, the girl stood.
The girl who was serving as keeper went to a large chest at the side of the room. She hung her switch on a hook on the wall and opened the chest. 'When your Master wishes you to enter his presence,' she said, 'you will be summoned by the sound of a gong.'
'Yes, Mistress,' said the girl standing near the mirror. She had not been given permission to turn about.
The girl who was serving as the small brunet's keeper withdrew from the chest, and shook out, a flimsy, tiny, diaphanous snatch of yellow pleasure silk. It was the sort of garment which, commonly, would be worn only by the most lascivious of dancing slaves writhing before strong, rude men in the lowest taverns on Gor. Free women had been known to faint at the sight, or touch, of such cloth. In many cities it is a crime to bring such cloth
