terrible. It is just that it is different, and more beautiful than the lies. The demythologization of a man has yet to take place. His reality exceeds the myths; it is reality which is darker and more dangerous than the myths; but it is also glorious and more real.
'But what am I to do until I can find such a fool?' she asked.
'It is true,' I asked, 'that sometimes, when a fellow bought you out of your difficulties, you merely turned your back upon him?'
'Yes,' she said.
'Turn your back upon me, now,' I said.
'Please!' she said.
'Do so, now,' I said.
She did so. 'Oh!' she said, gripped.
'Bend forward,' I said.
She obeyed.
'I think I can give you some idea,' I said, 'as to what you will be doing until you find such a fool.'
'Please,' she said, 'Mercy!'
'Look at it this way,' I said. 'You lived off men, with very little recompense to them. You will now, in a sense, for the time being at least, merely continue doing that, that is, continue to receive your living from me, only now, as opposed to before, you will be doing something for it, indeed, a great deal. You are, at least, going to be good for something. Men, at long last, are going to get some food out of you.'
'I am not a slave!' she said. 'Oh!' she said.
'Before,' I said, 'men, in a sense, were subject to you. Now you are subject to them.'
She moaned.
'You may move or not, as it pleases you,' I informed her.
She writhed briefly, trying to reach back, but could not escape. She cried out in frustration, and then fear. She then lay extremely quiet.'
'I am not a slave,' she said.
'At least not a legal slave,' I said.
She trembled, her entire body, interestingly, responding to these words. 'a€”yet,' I added.
Again her entire body, helplessly, wholistically, organically, spasmodically, responded.
'Please!' she begged. 'Do not speak so.'
The wholisticality of the female's response is an interesting one. Their response is a whole, physical, emotional and intellectual. Men have sex; women are sex.
'Why did you pay a tarsk bit for me?' she asked. 'Why did you not pay for an inn girl? Were they too expensive? Could you have afforded one?' 'I think so,' I granted her. Thanks, of course, to the coins from the brigands' coin box, taken from them by the road, if nothing else, my finances were currently in excellent order.
'Then it was I, truly I, whom you wished delivered to your space,' she whispered.
'Yes,' I said.
'Why?' she asked.
'I thought you could use a little humbling,' I said, 'and a little informing as to the nature of your womanhood.'
'I hate you!' she said. 'I hate you!'
Her body seethed with hatred. It was pleasant.
'I am giving you pleasure, aren't I?' she asked, angrily.
'Yes,' I said.
She then tried to hold herself absolutely still.
'Too,' I said, 'of course, I find you of sexual interest.'
'Really?' she asked.
'Yes,' I said.
'Do you think anyone else would?' she asked.
'Certainly,' I said.
'Oh!' she said suddenly, softly. 'Ohh!'
'You moved,' I said.
'I am a free woman,' she said, angrily. 'Yet I am at the mercy of the keeper! I am a free woman! Yet I was made to serve at the tables! Now I have been delivered to a guest, as though I might be a slave!'
I was silent. I did not tell her that the most common thing that is done with debtor sluts is to sell them into slavery.
'Do you think that I will find another fool?' she asked.
'I do not know,' I said.
'I must,' she said. 'I must! Else something terrible might happen.' 'What?' I asked.
'I might be sold to the collar,' she said. 'Then I would be a slave!' 'If I were the keeper,' I said, 'Such would certainly be my decision.' 'What?' she said.
'I would sell you into slavery,' I said.
'Never!' she said. 'Never!' 'You should be a slave,' I told her.
'No! No!' she said.
'You are moving,' I cautioned her.
She cried out in frustration.
Then she said. 'Oh!'
Then she asked, 'Are you going to make me yield?'
'Of course not,' I said. 'You are a free woman/'
'Be done with it!' she said.
But I chose, somewhat perversely perhaps, to take my time with her.
Afterwards she clung tightly to me. 'Oh,' she sobbed, softly. 'Oh, oh.' She seemed confused, frightened, bewildered, at what had been done to her, at what she had felt. I thought the keeper's man must be due soon.
'I yielded, did I not?' she asked, frightened. 'Did I not yield?' The chain, its loose ends, the padlock, the small metal tarn tag, indicating she was in debt to the Crooked Tarn, clinked on her neck.
'In a manner of speaking,' I said. She had actually done very well for a free woman, new to the handling of men who could do what they wished with her. The Lady Temione, though the thought might have horrified her, as she was a free woman, had unusually powerful female latencies. Subject to men and the whip I had little doubt she would become extremely passionate, and eventually, even helplessly so.
'You owe a silver tarsk, five,' I mused.
'Are you thinking of redeeming me?' she asked.
'I was thinking about it,' I said. I must try to gain admittance to Ar's Station. It was invested by Cosians, and mercenaries. I might have use for such as she.
'I would be afraid to be redeemed by you,' she said.
'Why?' I asked.
'If you redeemed me,' she said, 'I would be in your total power. You would, in effect, own me.'
'You are aware, of course,' I said, 'that you have, ultimately, no control over who redeems you, no more than a slave has, ultimately, any choice over who buys her.'
'I know,' she said.
I lay there, quietly, thinking. Yes, I thought, I might have use for a woman, or women, such as she.
'You took me like a she-tarsk,' she said, poutingly. 'You responded well to the taking,' I said. 'Perhaps it is fitting for you.'
'You do not respect me,' she said.
'You do not want to be respected,' I said. 'You want to be cherished, treasured, handled, abused, mastered, owned, subdued, forced to serve and love.' She was silent.
'Someone is coming,' I said. 'Do you hear him, on the stairs?'
'No,' she said.
