'What has been the relationship between you and your daughter?' I asked. The woman did not respond.
'I gather it has been distant,' I said. 'I gather that you love for her has been little reciprocated, that your sacrifices, your concerns and efforts in her behalf, have been little understood or appreciated. I gather that she, in the customary, unquestioning self-centeredness and vanity of her youth, seemingly so inevitable in the young, has given little concern to your feelings, to your reality as an independent woman and human being, that she has scarcely thought of you, or understood you, in these ways, that she has, typically, much taken you for granted, considering you often as little more than a convenience, a tool and fixture, in her world, as little more than her servant and satellite.' 'No, no!' said the daughter.
The woman was silent.
'But such things are over now,' I said.
'Yes,' whispered the woman.
'You are now only two women,' I said, 'each in the custody of impartial iron, each destined to stand by herself on the sawdust of the slave block, each, separately, to helplessly submit to, and endure, the objective scrutiny of buyers. There it will not matter that you are mother and daughter. Probably you will not even be sold in proximity to one another, but in the order of your numbers, or in some order deemed aesthetically or commercially appropriate by professional slavers. There you will be evaluated, bid upon and purchased, as different animals, as separate properties, merely as independent items up for sale, solely on your own merits. Then you will go your own ways, doubtless never to see one another again, doubtless each to the chains of a separate master. I wonder who will make the better slave?'
I then touched her, gently, again.
'Ohhh,' she said, softly.
'Who would be the best?' I asked.
'I do not know,' said the woman.
'Mother!' scolded the girl.
'Doubtless, in the end, under the suitable tutelage of strong men, you will both become superb,' I speculated.
'Yes,' whispered the woman.
'Perhaps, in the end, when you are both marvelous, there will be little to choose from between you,' I speculated.
The woman said nothing.
'But now,' I said, 'there is a great deal to choose from, between you.' The girl cried out in anger.
The woman groaned, clutching the bench.
'Can you imagine your daughter in slave silk?' I asked the woman. 'Can you imagine her in a collar, kneeling and obeying?'
'Yes,' whispered the woman.
'Do not speak so,' begged the daughter.
'Can you imagine her naked, kicking in her chains,' I asked, 'crying out, begging for a man's touch.
'Yes,' said the woman.
The daughter put her head in her hands, sobbing.
'Hush, dear,' said the woman. 'It will be so.'
'Men are horrid,' wept the girl.
'No,' she said, 'they are the masters. They are as they are, as we are as we are.'
'I will never yield to them,' wept the girl.
'Then you will be killed,' said the woman.
The girl gasped, shrinking back in the chains. 'I could pretend to yield,' she whispered.
'That is the crime of false yielding,' said the mother. 'It is easy to detect, by infallible physiological signs. It is punishable by death.'
'What, then, can I do?' she wept.
'Yield truly, or die,' she said.
'What chance have I, then?' asked the girl.
'None,' said the mother. 'You will be a slave.'
'If you like,' I said to the woman, 'I can go over there and, in moments, one hand on the back of her neck, my other hand free, have her leaping like a child's toy.'
'No,' said the woman. 'It will be soon enough done to her, such things. She will learn soon enough, what it is, a bond maid, to be owned by men.'
'Do not worry so much about her,' I said.
'I am her mother,' she said.
'I would worry more about myself, if I were you,' I said. 'I think you will find that you will prove to be a much more frequent object of male aggression than she. Merely to see you is to want to strip you and put you in a collar.' 'No!' gasped the woman.
'I am a man, and I can vouch for it,' I said. I gave her an intimate, friendly pat.
'Please!' she said.
'Be silent,' I said.
'Yes, Master,' she said.
'I assure you,' I said, 'you are at present much more likely to excite the predations of men, to be viewed as a mere imbonded lust object, than your daughter. You are much more likely than she, at least at present, in my opinion, to discover that you have, perhaps to your terror and distress, and with predictable consequences to yourself, then a slave, occasioned their interest. 'No!' said the girl.
'Be silent, low slave,' I said to her.
'Low slave!' she cried.
'I am now attending to this other woman,' I said. 'I find her of interest.' 'You are a free woman, Mother,' said the girl. 'You are not a slave. You do not have to yield to him. Resist him. Do not yield to him.' 'Do not fret, daughter,' said the woman. 'Can you not see? Even though he is a man, he consents to speak kindly to us. Appreciate such things, for you do not know when you will hear such words again.'
'He is a brute! said the daughter.
'The master is merciful to me,' said the mother. 'Can you not see? In virtue of your presence, and in respect for the delicacy of our situation, he has permitted me to almost entirely subside.'
' 'Subside'!' said the daughter, scandalized.
'Yes,' said the woman. 'Thank you, Master.'
'Oh!' said the woman.
'Do you think I am merciful?' I asked her. I feared she had misunderstood my intent.
'He is touching me again! said the woman. She clutched the marble bench again. 'Do you truly think I am merciful?' I asked.
'No, no!' she said.
'Do you think any true man would let a curvaceous, luscious beauty like you, a mere prisoner set out for pleasure, a future slave, off the hook in a situation like this, that he would not press home his advantage, so to speak,' I said. 'Tell him that that is exactly what a true man would do!' said the daughter. 'Don't be stupid,' said the woman. 'We are not talking here about weaklings who call themselves 'true men, trying to disguise their weakness under false titles, but true men.' Then she suddenly moaned. I found that of interest. She had not, apparently, subsided to the extent that either of us had thought. The coals of slave heat, it seemed, had not ceased to glow in her belly.
'I ask mercy,' she said.
'It is denied,' I informed her.
'Resist him!' said the daughter.
'His hands are strong and powerful,' said the woman. 'He knows what he is doing! I am soft, and female!'
'You wish to yield,' I told her. 'It is not difficult to tell.' 'I must not, Master,' she said. 'My daughter is here. She would never again respect me! Ohh!'
