'Please, Master,' I said to him. 'I think he would prefer to kill me.' 'Please him,' urged Tupita.
I looked at her, wildly. Surely she, of all people, would not desire that! 'Must a command be repeated?' inquired the stranger.
'No, Master!' I said. The tone of such a voice is unmistakable to a slave girl. She knows she must obey unquestionly, perfectly, immediately. I hastily crawled to Mirus.
'Do not touch me, slave,' he said, with unmistakable menace in his voice. 'Master!' protested Tupita.
I looked back, at the stranger, frightened.
'Very well,' said the stranger, to Mirus. I knelt back on my heels. I realized now what the plan of Tupita and the stranger must have been. in the two days or so since he had been with Mirus and her he had doubtless been informed, or had gathered, what the situation was amongst us. The specific suggestion I suppose had been Tupita' s. I looked at Mirus. I did not think, really, now, he still wanted to kill me. I think that had gone from him. On the other hand he was still, obviously, consumed with hatred for me. Too, undoubtedly somehow, on some deep level, perhaps something far beneath the level of discourse, of excuses, of considerations, of reason, he may have felt that he had been denied or thwarted, that he had been deprived of some dur satisfaction. Surely his decision to spare me had not come from deeply within him, spurred by his own misunderstandings, and acceptable to him, but had been the result of yielding to the unwelcome, perhaps resented intercession of Tupita. His hand had been stayed not by the merits of my case, if ti had them, or even by a master' s decision to spare a contrite, errant slave, but by his love for a woman, and, indeed, one who was only a slave. In this he may even have felt that he had lost honor. The plan, then, of Tupita and the stranger had been a simple one, involving the utilization of a common biological universal, the placatory, behaviors of the errant female before the dominant male. In this way, it seemed, they hoped that his wrath might be diverted to desire, and that in place of my blood he might be persuaded to accept in substitution something as simple as my beauty, and my total subjugation and conquest. This sort of thing is not unknown. Many times in conquered cities women kneel before invading warriors, baring their breasts and bodies, begging not to be put to the sword but rather to be permitted to please them, and then to be kept as slaves. It is a well-known fact, too, that it is not easy for a man to remain angry with a beautiful, contrite female who strips herself before him, kneels, kisses his feet, begs his forgiveness, and pleads to be ordered to the furs, that she may there await him in trepidation, and, when he chooses, attempt to assuage the harshness of his wrath with the softness of her beauty and love.
'You do not mind, do you?' asked the stranger, 'If she performs for the rest of us?'
'Of course not,' said Mirus.
'I understand, girl,' he said, 'that you are a dancer.'
'Yes, Master,' I said. 'I have danced.'
'Are you a dancer?' he asked.
'Yes, Master,' I said. 'I am a dancer.'
'And have you danced before men?' he asked.
'Yes, Master,' I said. Surely he knew this. I gathered then that he did not wish it known that he knew me. This, like his features concealed in the mask, it seemed, he wished to keep secret, at least from Mirus and Tupita. It was possible, of course, I suppose, that he really did not remember me from before. But I knew him, even with the mask. Surely he most know em. I was not even masked. Indeed, I was hardly clothed. If he did not remember me, then, I supposed, it was because there had been little about me of interest to him, or to make me worth remembering. But if he gave me a chance I would try, and desperately, through sedulous service and unstinting love, to make myself well worth remembering to him! Perhaps he had known many women, and really did not remember me?
'Do you feel,' he asked, 'that you truly know how to dance-before men.' 'I think so, Master,' I said, reddening.
'There are no free women present,' he said. 'Therefore your performance need not be inhibited.'
'I understand, Master,' I said. Too, to my pleasure, I gathered that he himself was not disinterested in seeing me dance, and that I was to dance as what I was, a slave.
'You may begin,' he said.
'Dance, dance, Tuka,' urged Tupita.
I rose to my feet. I rubbed my hands on my thighs. I touched myself about the waist, lifting my hands slightly, calling attention to my bosom. Such things are subtle. I wanted to so please the stranger. I wanted to show him what I could do, and now was.
'Your legs are short,' said the stranger.
'Forgive me, Master,' I said.
'It is not a criticism,' he said.
'Thank you, Master,' I said. Such legs, I knew, were splendid for this form of dance, in which, from time to time, the woman becomes a writhing, cuddly love animal, made for a man' s hands and arms.
I saw from the stranger' s eyes that I was to particularly dance myself to Mirus. I turned to face him. I lifted my left hand, holding my right low, at my hip. My head was down, humbly, and turned to the left.
I knew Mirus would try not to watch me. He would nurse his fury. He would attempt to resist me. He did not wish to permit me to placate him.
I knew I must attract his attention.
'Ai!' I cried suddenly, as though in pain, and I reacted as though I had been, from his quarter, struck with a whip.
Mirus looked at me, startled, and I looked at him, reproachfully, and frightened, and than, as though he had whipped me, and commanded me, I began to dance. There was no music, of course, and so the dance must content itself largely with the expression, as it were, of my servitude, and my subjection to his will. I moved as beautifully as I could, and as though in fear the before him, trying to please him, begging to placate him. From time to time in the dance I reacted again as though I had felt the whip, crying out in pain, looking at him in terror, sometimes struck even to my knees. Sometimes, too, I tried to dance before the stranger, but his eyes would inform me that it was before Mirus that I was to dance slave beauty.
'Look at her, Master!' cried Tupita. 'See how beautiful she is!' 'Master,' I wept to Mirus. 'I beg forgiveness!'
Then I reacted again and again, as though he might have been angered by my plea, as though I were struck with the whip. Then I was on my back, and stomach, even, reacting as though I was struck, turning, twisting, as though in terror and pain to fend blows. It was as though he were punishing me.
'She dances well,' said Mirus.
'Forgive her, Master,' begged Tupita. 'She is sorry! She begs forgiveness!' I looked to the stranger, in his mask, from where I lay. His eyes shone. I almost cried out with pleasure. Had he though that he had known me? Well, perhaps now he was wondering if he had really, at all, known me!
I leaped to my feet and moved sensuously but, too, as though prodded and shoved, as though driven, herded, to the slave wagon. Tupita gasped. I seized the slave whip and thrust it between my teeth, harshly, as might have a man, and then I flung myself to the dirt. Then, bit by bit, sometimes on my knees, sometimes as though I had tried to rise, and had then again been thrust to my knees, sometimes on all fours, sometimes as though trying to rise to my knees, and being forced again to all fours, I made my way to Mirus. As I approached him it seemed I became more and more terrified, and contrite, and then, at the conclusion of my dance, I put my head down and placed the whip humbly before him. I then put my head down again licked and kissed it, and then I put myself on my belly, prostrated before him, a slave at his mercy. 'Forgive me, Master,' I begged.
'You have placed a whip before me,' he observed.
'That it may be used to punish a slave, Master,' I said. How naturally I thought of myself as a slave! I was a slave.
'It would seem in your dance,' he said, 'that you were already much punished.' I said nothing. In the dance, of course, not a blow had fallen upon me. 'But it is not my whip to which you are subject,' he said. I was startled, and my heart leapt to hear this. Could he mean that the stranger had put claim upon me, and that it was to his whip that I was now subject? But, of course, he may have meant only that I belonged to Ionicus of Cos. That could be read upon my collar.
'I am at your mercy,' I said. 'I am yours to punish.'
'And for what,' he asked, 'would I punish you?'
