brought out on the stroke of the nineteenth bar. Perhaps those who had smote their goblets on the tables and called for me, had, as much as anything, been voicing a natural disgruntlement at the unwritten customs, which seemed to govern such affairs, at the institution of a time to be set aside for the whetting of appetites. I supposed that there would have to be a judicious sense of timing involved in such matters, that the time must be long enough to bring the audience to a point of eager readiness, perhaps even impatience, without, on the other hand, dallying so long that they became unruly or hostile. I assumed that the house must know what it was doing in these matters. Doubtless I was not the first girl to be conducted out onto the floor, and probably not even the first Earth girl.
'How are you, Doreen?' asked small Ina, crouching down, solicitously, beside me. I looked at her, gratefully. 'All right, Mistress,' I whispered.
'Good,' she smiled, reassuringly.
Ina did not care in the least, really, I was sure, whether I called her «mistress» or not, but we had both agreed, two weeks ago, when we had become friends, both of us in the kitchen, that it would be better for me to do so, as I was the newest girl. We were both afraid that if I called her by her name, and someone heard, I, and Ina, too, if she had not imposed discipline, would have been punished. For example, we would not have wanted to let either Tupita or Sita catch us in such a negligence.
'Have you had your slave wine?' asked Ina.
'Yes,' I said. This is not really a wine, or an alcoholic beverage. It is called 'slave wine,' I think, for the amusement of the masters. It is extremely bitter. One draught of the substance is reputed to last until the administration of an appropriate 'releaser.' In spite of this belief, however, or perhaps in deference to tradition, lingering from earlier times, in which, it seems, less reliable 'Slave wines' were available, doses of this foul stuff are usually administered to female slaves at regular intervals, usually once or twice a year. Some girls, rather cynical ones, I suspect, speculate that the masters give it to them more often than necessary just because they enjoy watching them down the terrible stuff. This is unlikely, however. There are cheaper and more easily available ingredients for such a mode of discipline than slave wine. 'Good,' said Ina. 'There is then nothing to worry about.'
I looked at her. It had not occurred to me, really, that I had 'nothing to worry about.'
'The time to worry,' said Ina, 'is if they decide to make you a breeding slave.' I nodded.
'You must then drink the releaser,' she said.
I nodded numbly.
'I have been told it is quite good,' she said.
I looked at her, with horror.
'Really,' she said.
Slave wine makes sense in a slave-holding culture, such as Gor. The breeding of slaves, like any sort of domestic animals, and particularly valuable ones, is carefully controlled. As a slave, of course, I could be bred, or crossed, when, and however, my master might see fit. It is the same as with other animals. I lifted my head a little.
Outside the men were becoming impatient. I could hear the striking of goblets more often now on tables. I heard some shouting.
When the girl is taken to the breeding cell or breeding stall, she is normally hooded. Her selected mate is also hooded. In this fashion personal attachments are precluded. She is not there to know in whose arms she lies, or piteously, and in misery, to fall in love, but to be impregnated. And in accord with the prescribed anonymity of the breeding, as would be expected, the slaved do not speak to one another. They may be slain if they do. Their coupling is public, of course, in the sense that the master, or usually, masters, and sometimes others, whether in an official capacity or not, are present, to make any pertinent payments or determinations.
The men outside, it now seemed to me, were becoming unruly.
'Don' t be afraid,' said Ina.
'What are men like?' I asked Ina.
'They are glorious, and our masters,' said Ina.
'That is not what I mean,' I protested.
'What do you mean?' she asked.
'What will it be like?' I asked. 'Will they hurt me?'
'I suppose some of them may hurt you,' she said. 'And I suppose any of them would hurt you sometimes. But you must expect that. You are only a slave.' 'I do not mean that,' I said. I knew, after all, I was a slave. I knew that I must strive to be pleasing to masters, and perfectly so. I knew that I was subject to discipline. I knew I might be, and would be likely to be, punished for the least infraction in my discipline, the least imperfection in my service and the least failure in my pleasingness. Indeed, I knew that, as a slave, my master did not even need a reason for punishing me. He could punish me for no reason at all, unless perhaps it might simply be that it pleased him to do so then, or, say, it occurred to him to do so then.
'What do you mean?' she asked.
'Bring out the virgin!' cried a man.
'Get the white-silker out here,' called another. 'Let us see her!' 'I mean will they hurt me!' I moaned.
'You mean when they open you?' she asked.
'Yes!' I said.
'Probably not,' she said. 'But you may be sore.'
'I see,' I said.
'Oh,' smiled Ina. 'You really mean, in general, don' t you? What it' s like?' I put down my head.
'You silly virgin,' said Ina. 'You really don' t know, do you?' 'No,' I said.
'Tonight,' she said, 'will doubtless be hard. Do not worry about tonight. It is the first time. Just try to survive. Tonight it will doubtless be like when a city falls, or one is used for a sex feast.'
I looked at her, not even understanding her.
'But wait, slave,' she laughed. 'Later it will be quite different.' I looked at her.
'Later, Doreen,' said Ina, smiling, 'you will beg and scratch for it.' I heard the men shouting outside now. They seemed angry. Then I saw Tupita and Sita coming through the beaded curtain. They carried certain objects.
'Put your wrists out, said Tupita.
The sheet fell a little. Tupita fasted a leather cuff on my right wrist. It was not a lock cuff. It buckled shut. It did have a snap ring on it. Sita fastened a similar cuff on my left wrist. Both of them carried long leather leashes. Tupita, with the snap ring on the leash, fastened the leash on my right cuff, and Sita fastened the other leash on my left cuff. The snap rings on the cuffs themselves, of course, make it possible, if one wishes, for the cuffs to be linked together.
I saw the legs of a man. I looked up, and then, swiftly, the palms of my hands on the floor, the cuffs on my wrists, put my head to the floor before him. Tupita and Sita, similarly, rendered immediate, fearful obeisance. 'Stand,' said the man, 'all of you.' We then stood before Hendow, our master. Behind him was Mirus. Mirus had a canvas sack slung over at his belt. Two of Hendow' s girls, Aynur and Tula, were behind Mirus. Each of them carried a deep copper bowl. Aynur' s bowl was empty. Tula' s was filled with oval, narrowly slotted ostraka.
'Hold the sheet more closely about you,' said Tupita.
I needed no urging to comply with this request.
Hendow regarded me, possessively. He owned me. Tonight, too, he planned on making money on me.
'You have pretty feet, and ankles, and calves, Doreen,' he said.
'Thank you, Master,' I said.
The sheet I clutched about me so desperately, came a little below my knees. It was of white silk.
My master stood near me. I trembled.
Tupita and Sita, holding the leashes to my cuffs, stood nearby. Ina, too, was there.
My master took the edges of the sheet I held about myself and pulled it a little to the side, and down, revealing my shoulders. He took from his wallet a ribbon. It was about a foot long, and an inch and a half in width. He looped it about my collar, and jerked it down, snug. The ribbon, like the sheet, was of white silk. I heard the men clamoring outside.
'Do not be afraid,' he said.
