'No!' agreed another.
I guessed that the possession of such a wench might not, after all, even in my situation, have been too burdensome. After all, one could always have gotten a great deal of good out of her, and a great deal of work. On the other hand, she was no longer for sale.
'I can do that, Master,' said Phoebe.
'Nonsense,' said Marcus.
'I can!' she said.
Marcus and I watched the women in the circle. I think perhaps about two Ihn passed. Perhaps one might have wiped one's nose, quickly, in the interval. 'Well,' said Marcus, wearily, 'it is getting late.'
'It is still early, Master,' said Phoebe.
'I think that I shall return to the tent,' said Marcus.
'A good idea,' I said. 'But I think, I shall dally a bit outside.'
'Oh?' said Marcus, concerned, but, I think, not excessively disappointed. 'Yes,' I said.
'Perhaps we will return to the tent now,' said Marcus to Phoebe.
'As Master wishes,' she said, lightly. I thought she had carried that off rather well.
'I thought you wished to return to the tent,' said Marcus.
'I am a slave,' she said. 'I must obey my master.'
'Do you not want my touch?' asked Marcus.
'I am a slave,' she said. 'I must submit to the will of my master.'
'I see,' said Marcus.
Phoebe moved her lovely little head in the leash and collar, and looked off into the distance. 'I am at your disposal,' she said.
'I am well aware of that,' said Marcus.
'Yes, Master,' she said.
Phoebe's mistake, of course, was to look away. In this fashion she did not anticipate Marcus' touch. Too, it was firm, uncompromising, and not soon released. 'Ohh!' she cried.
Marcus regarded her.
She, eyes wide, looked at him, startled, reproachfully, unbelievingly. She was half bent over. The leash dangled down from her collar.
She then began to tremble. Her small wrists pulled at the binding fiber, pinioning her hands behind her. Then, not even daring to move, she stood, partly bent from the waist, before him.
'Please,' she whispered. 'Please, my Master!'
'Perhaps you can move interestingly on your knees?' he said.
'Yes!' she said. 'Anything! Anything!'
'And on your back and stomach?' he asked.
'Yes!' she said.
'And your sides?' he asked.
'Yes!' she said.
'Perhaps you desire to do these things,' he said.
'Yes!' she said. 'Yes!'
'Perhaps you will be bound,' he said.
'Yes, Master!' she said. 'Bind me!'
It is common to bind slave girls.
'Do you have any petitions, any supplications?' inquired Marcus.
'Take me to the tent!' she begged. 'Take me to the tent!'
He regarded her.
'I beg your touch, my Master!' she gasped.
'Oh?' he said.
'I beg it! I beg it, my Master,' she wept.
'Slut of Cos!' snarled Marcus suddenly.
'Your slave, only your slave, Master!' she wept.
He then, angrily, picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, her head to the rear. It is in this fashion that slaves are commonly carried. I saw her eyes for a moment, wild, but frightened, and grateful. Then he had sped with her from the place.
'A hot little vulo,' said a man.
'Quite so,' said a man.
'She could light a fire,' said another.
'I wonder what he wants for her,' said another.
'I do not think she if for sale,' I said.
We then returned our attention to the dancing circle. New women entered it upon occasion, as others were withdrawn. There were now some ten to fifteen slaves in the circle. How beautiful women are!
'How disgusting,' said a free woman, nearby. I had not noticed her standing there until now.
'Begone, slut!' said a peasant.
The free woman gasped, and hurried away. Peasants are not always tolerant of gentlewomen. To be sure, they do not always object to them when they come into their possession, as, say, they might after the fall of a city, or if one, say, has been captured and deliberately sold to them, perhaps by some male acquaintance, for one reason or another. Indeed I suspect the hardy fellows upon occasion rather enjoy owning such elegant women, women who are likely in their loftiness to have hitherto disparaged or despised their caste. It is pleasant to have them in ropes, naked at their feet. Sometimes they are asked if they rejoice to now be owned by peasants. If they respond negatively they are beaten. If they respond affirmatively they are also beaten, for lying. Quickly then will the women be taught the varied labors and services of the farm. Interestingly these women, under the domination of their powerful masters, often become excellent farm slaves. Sometimes they are even permitted to sleep in the hut, at their master's feet.
'That is an excellent dancer there,' said a fellow.
'Yes,' I said.
'I think she has auburn hair,' said another fellow. It was difficult to tell in the light.
'Yes,' said another.
Auburn hair is highly prized in the slave markets. I recalled the slave, Temione, now, as I understood it, a property of Borton, a courier for Artemidorus of Cos. Her hair was a marvelous auburn. Too, by now, it would have muchly grown out, after having been shaved off some months ago, for catapult cordage.
I noted that the free female had gone a bit about the outside of the circle, and now stood there, back a bit from the circle, where there was a space between some men. From that position of vantage she continued to watch the dancers. This puzzled me. If she found such beauty, such sensuous liberation, such fulfilling joy, such reality, such honesty, the marvelousness of owned women before their masters, offensive or deplorable, why did she watch? What did she see there in the circle, I wondered. {pg. 50) What so drew her there, what so fascinated here there? Like most free women she was perhaps inhibited, frustrated and unhappy. She continued to gaze into the circle. perhaps she saw herself there, clad in a rag and collar, if that, moving, turning with the others, like them so beautiful, so much alive, so vulnerable, so helpless, so owned. Does her master lift his whip? She must then redouble her efforts to please, lest she be lashed. I supposed that she, even there, standing so seemingly still, pretending to be a mere observer, could feel the dance in her body, in its myriad incipient movements, tiny movements in her legs, in her belly, in her body, in herself, in the wholeness of her womanhood. Perhaps she wished for her robes to be torn off and to be collared, and to be thrust, in her turn, into the circle. I did not doubt but what she would be zealous to please. Indeed, she had best be! But how strange that she, a free woman, would even linger in this place. Perhaps free women are incomprehensible. A Gorean saying came to mind, that the free woman is a riddle, the answer to which is the collar.
'Away!' called a fellow, who had turned about and seen the free woman. he waved his arm, angrily, 'Away!' he said. The free woman then turned about and left the vicinity of the circle, hurriedly. I felt rather sorry for her, but then, I thought, surely the fellow was right, that the circle, or its vicinity, was no place for a free female. It was a place, rather, for the joy of masters and their slaves. Similarly, the vicinity of such places, though I did not think
