Susan, I recalled, had thought it possible that a man, some men at least, might find her of interest, really of interest, of sufficient interest to be worth putting in bondage. I wondered if she could please a man. Perhaps if she tried very i hard to be pleasing some man, in his kindness, might find her acceptable. I turned before the mirror, studying the girl that I was thusly displaying. Yes, I thought, it is not impossible that I she might be considered worthy of a collar. 'Mistress would look well being sold from a block,' Susan bad said. 'Are you free, Tiffany?' I asked the image in the mirror. 'Yes,' I told myself. 'I am free.' I turned my left thigh to the mirror, I my chin. I studied the girl in the mirror. I wondered what she would like, with a brand, with a collar. 'You see, Tiffany,' I said. 'You are not branded. You are not collared.' I looked at the girl in the mirror. I wondered who I was, what I was.
'I am the Tatrix of Corcyrus!' I said.
But the girl in the mirror did not appear to be a Tatrix. She appeared, clearly, to be something else.
I forced from my mind the memory of the slaves I had seen earlier, the girls in the street, in their one-piece, skimpy garments, heads down, kneeling, chained together by the neck, the girls in the market, in their chains, stark naked, kneeling, too, their heads down to the warm cement, being publicly displayed for sale.
'What are you?' I asked. 'Do you not dare speak? Then show me. Show me!' Slowly, numbly, frightened, I turned about and went to the foot of the great couch. I knelt there, and, putting my head down, tenderly lifted up, in two hands, a length of the chain that lay coiled there. I kissed it. 'No!' I cried out to myself, replacing the chain. But then I rose up and, timidly, softly, went to the wall where the whip hung. I removed the whip from its hook and knelt down with it. I wrapped its blades back about the handle. Then, humbly, my head down, submissively, near the point where the five long, soft blades join the staff, holding it in both hands, I kissed it. 'No!' I wept, in protest. Then I replaced the whip on its hook. I went then again to the mirror. The vanity was low enough, meant to be used by a kneeling woman, and I was back far enough, that I could see myself on the tiles, completely. I saw the girl in the mirror kneel down. 'No,' I said. I saw her kneel back on her heels. I saw her straighten her back, and lift her chin, and put her hands on her thighs. 'No!' I said. I saw her spread her knees. 'No,' I said. 'No! No!' I had seen girls in the palace do that, for example, when a free man had entered a room. Sometimes, too, in identically this same position, they would keep their heads submissively lowered, until given permission to raise them. This variation, and similar variations, depend on the specific discipline to which a given girl is subjected. The head is usually kept raised; this precludes the necessity of a specific command to lift the head; in the headlifted position she has no choice but to bare her facial beauty to the viewer; too, her least expression may be read; too, of course, she can see who is in the room with her and is thus better able, even from the first instant, to discern his moods, anticipate his needs, and resp I leaped to my feet, furious with the girl in the mirror. She, lied! She lied! I fled to the wardrobe. I flung back the sliding doors. I am Tatrix! I tore my yellow robe, that of brief silk, from its carved hanger. I put it on me, swiftly, angrily, belting it, tightly. I ran to the door leading from my quarters. I reached to the handle and jerked it wildly towards me. I had opened this door a hundred times. I cried out in surprise, in misery. This time it did not yield. I jerked twice again, both of my hands on the handle. The door, somehow, was fastened on the other side. It seemed, or something on it seemed, to strike against some obstacle or barrier. I struck at it, pounding on it. 'Let me out!' I cried. 'Let me out!' I heard two sliding sounds. On the other side, I knew, were four pairs of brackets. Never, however, as far as I knew, had they been used. Two of these pairs of brackets were on the door itself, one at the lower part of the door and one at the upper part. Matching them in height, but in the wall, were sets. One of these pairs, its the other two pairs of brack bars located on opposite sides of the door, corresponded to the brackets, and the other pair, its members opposite one another, one on each side of the door, corresponded to the lower-door brackets. The door was thus, if beams or bars were to be inserted through these brackets, prevented from swinging inward, its natural opening motion. The door opened. Five guards were there. Two of them I noted, at a glance, were laying heavy beams against the wall. It was these, then, obviously, which had secured the door.
'The door was locked!' I said.
'Yes, Lady,' said the leader of the guards. He was of the third rank, like Drusus Rencius. He, like the others, seemed surprised. Obviously he had not expected to see me at this time of night, or this early in the morning.
'Why was the door locked?' I demanded.
'It is always locked at this time of night,' he said.
'Why?' I demanded.
'Orders,' said he.
'Whose orders?' I asked.
'Those of Ligurious,' he said.
'Why would such orders be given?' I asked.
'It is custom,' said the guard.
'Why?' I asked.
'To protect the Tatrix, I suppose,' said he. 'Surely we would not want her wandering about the palace at night.'
'There is danger in the palace?' I asked, angrily.
The guard shrugged. 'Perhaps an assassin might have gained entrance,' he said. 'I would be safe enough accompanied by guards, I am sure,' I said.
'At this Ahn,' he said, 'it is customary for the Tatrix to be within her quarters.'
'I am leaving them,' I said. I made as though to brush past him. But his arm, like a bar of iron, barred my way. 'No, Lady, forgive me,' he said, 'but you may not pass.'
I stopped back. I was startled.
'I am Tatrix!' I said.
'Yes, Lady,' said he.
'Get out of my way!' I said.
'I am sorry,' he said. 'You may not pass.'
'Call Ligurious!' I said. I was determined to get to the bottom of this matter. 'I cannot disturb the first minister at this Ahn,' he said.
'Why not?' I asked.
'He is with his women,' said the man.
'His women!' I said.
'Yes, Lady,' said the man.
'I see,' I said.
'If you wish,' said the guard, 'I can call Drusus Rencius.'
'No,' I said. 'No.' I then withdrew into the room. I saw the door close. Then, a moment or so later, I heard the two beams, one after the other, slid into place. 'I am the Tatrix!' I screamed, angrily, from behind the door.
I then took off the robe, angrily, and threw it to the tiles. I could not go out. What need did I have of it?
Then, trembling, naked, with my finger tips, in the half darkness, in moonlit room, I examined the door. I even felt the great hinges, with their pins, like rivets, on my side of the door. The lower ends of the pins had been spread, beaten wide, so that they could not be forced upwards, freeing them. I sank to my knees behind the door. I lifted my head and put my finger tips to the heavy wood. 'I am the Tatrix,' I whispered. Then I rose to my feet and went to the side of the great couch. I looked back to the mirror behind the vanity. I saw the frightened girl there. She was, indisputably female, with all that that might entail on a world such as this.
'I am the Tatrix,' I whispered.
Then I crept onto the great couch. I lay on my stomach on the couch, on the silk, near its foot. I supposed that sometimes girls might even be chained in such a place, like a dog at a man's feet, or perhaps even on the hard., cold tiles, under the slave ring. If I were so chained, I thought, I would quickly learn to be pleasing.
What manner of world was this, I wondered, on which I found myself. It was a world, I thought, on which men had never relinquished their sovereignty, on which they had never submitted to the knives of psychic castration.
From Earth, I could scarcely believe the men of this world, in their power and naturalness.
Where were such men on Earth, I asked myself. They must exist there, some few perhaps, somewhere. Thousands, perhaps millions of women on Earth, I thought, must secretly pine for such men. How, without submitting themselves to such men, how without satisfying the complementary equations of sexuality, could their
