'You have a luscious body,' he said.
'Please unchain me,' I said.
'It has delicious slave curves,' he said.
'Unchain me, please,' I begged.
'Your body does not suggest that it is the body of a free woman,' he said. 'It suggests, rather, that it is the body of a natural slave.'
'I beg to be unchained,' I said. 'You can see that I am a free woman. My body is unbranded. I do not wear a collarl' f 'Some masters,' said he, 'are so foolish as not to brand and collar their women.'
'That would be stupid,' I said.
'I think so,' he said.
'So you can see, then,' I said, 'that I, uncollared, unbranded, must be free.' 'Not necessarily,' he smiled.
'Unchain me,' I begged.
'What is your name?' he asked.
'Lita,' I said. I remembered this name from the time that Drusus Rencius had taken me to the house of Kliomenes in Corcyrus. It was the name he had chosen for me there, Lady Lita, of Corcyrus. It had sprung into my mind probably because of that trip. Too, I recalled that both Publius and Drusus Rencius had thought that it would be a good name for me.
Both of the men then laughed, he standing now before me as I sat on the bank, and he, who was apparently alone, on the surface of the road.
'What is wrong?' I asked.
'That is a slave name,' he said.
'Nol' I said.
'It is a common slave name,' he said. 'Indeed, it is one of the names popular with the masters for unusually juicy and helpless slaves.'
'It is also the name of some free women,' I said.
'It is possible, I suppose,' said the man.
'Please unchain me,' I begged.
'Lita,' said the man.
'Lady Lita,' I said.
'Lita,' said he.
I looked at him in misery.
'It seems clear you are a slave, Lita,' he said. 'You are naked. You apparently have no Home Stone. You do not know where you are. You cannot even read. Your name is even that of a slave.'
'Nol' I said.
'But it is,' he said. 'Therefore, since it seems clear that you are a runaway slave, you will henceforth address us as 'Master.'' 'Please, no,' I said.
'If you are actually a free woman, as you claim,' he said, no great harm will be done.
'You spoke to me,' she said.
'Yes,' I said. 'Forgive me, kind lady. No one has read me the legend posted over my head. I beg you to do so.'
She lifted her robes and climbed to the cement platform.
She was about two inches taller than I. She stood then before me.
'You spoke to me,' she said. 'Yes, kind lady,' I said.
'Where you come from,' she said, 'do slaves not address free women as 'Mistress'?'
'I am a free woman, too,' I said. 'I am not a slave.'
'Naked, lying slave!' hissed the woman.
I beg you for kindness,' I said. 'Even if I were a slave, which I am not, we share the same sex. We are both women.'
'I am a woman,' she said. 'You are an animal.'
'Take pity on me,' I said. 'We have in common at least that we are females.' 'Do not dare to see me in terms of such a denominator,' she said. 'It is not my fault that I share a sex with she-sleen and she-tarsks, and, lower than either, with she-slaves.'
'I am not a slave,' I said. 'I am free. I am not collared. I am not branded!' 'If I owned you,' she snapped, 'you would soon be collared and branded, and then you would be sent to the stables or scullery, where you belongl'
Forgive me,' I said.
'Forgive you, what?' she said. in fury.
'Mistress!' I said.
'I know your type,' she said, in fury. 'You are the sort for whom my companion forsakes me! You are the sort he runs panting after in the taverns, the sort whose bodies their masters sell for the price of a drinkl'
'No,' I said. 'Nol'
'You are the sort of woman who likes men, aren't you?' she said.
'No, Mistress,' I cried. 'No! No!'
'Why aren't you kneeling, Slut?' she asked.
'I'm chained,' I cried. 'I can't!'
'Kneel,' ordered the free woman, coldly.
'I can't, Mistress!' I wept. I let myself hang from the shackles, my knees bent, piteously.
'You should not have accosted a free woman,' she said. She then removed her gloves and, with them, struck me across the face. Tears sprang to my eyes. 'You must also address her as 'Mistress,'' she said. I was then struck again. 'You have denied your slavery,' she said. 'You have dared to compare yourself with me, insulting me by calling to my attention that we are both females. You have denied that you arc of the category of the sensuous slut! You have denied, lyingly, that you are eager to serve menl' She then struck me four times. 'Do you think I cannot see what you are?' she asked. 'Do you think it is unclear to anyone who looks upon you? Do you think I am stupid? Anyone could see that you are a slavel It is obviousl' Then she lashed me across the face and mouth with her gloves, several times. It did not really hurt so much, but it did sting, and, of course, it was terribly humiliating. I began to cry. 'And you did not kneel!' she cried. She struck me twice again. I hung in the shackles, sobbing. I was most afraid that she might call the Archon's man. He might, if requested, I feared, use a whip on me. She then, angrily, withdrew from the platform and resumed her journey down the street.
'What was that all about?' asked the Archon's man.
'I spoke to her, Master,' I said. I called him 'Master' for he, like the young men who had caught me at the edge of the Viktel Aria, had made it clear to me that I was to address, whether I was free or not, with a slave's respect. 'But she is a free woman,' he observed.
'Yes, Master,' I said. With a rustle of chain I again got my feet under me. 'It was foolish of you,' he said.
'Yes, Master,' I sobbed.
'Your face is red,' he said.
'Yes, Master,' I said.
Later in the afternoon, after I bad been fed and watered, landing in the shackles, I decided to once again essay the de.iplicrment of the legend on the post. This time, having earned my lesson, I would not trouble a free woman in the matter. I knew that I was pretty and I had little doubt, even bough I was tired and my arms were now sore-, that, chained ~s I was, displayed as I was, my attractions might be of interest to passing males. Men of Earth, I knew, would often strive to please even a scantily clad woman, for example, one wearing a sun suit or a bathing suit. I, for example, had had this experience on summer weekends and at the beach.
'Sir, Masterl' I called to a man. He seemed a friendly enough looking fellow. He approached me, climbing to the platform. 'Yes?' he inquired.
'I am a free woman,' I said, 'but nonetheless I will call you 'Master.'' 'I hoped that this would flatter him.
'Whatever you wish,' he said.
