I held her head still, and lifted it, that it might face me. She opened her eyes, looking up at me. "Master?" she asked.
I looked down at her.
"You are a legal slave," I told her.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"But what you do not yet know," I said, "is that you are also a true slave, a natural slave."
"I come from a world," she said, "where women are not slaves."
"Is that the world called 'Earth'?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
"I have heard," I said, "that on that world women are piteous slaves, only they lack masters."
"That lack," she said, "in my case, on this world, will surely be made up."
"Yes," I said.
I released her head and held her, then, by the upper arms.
"I will obey you," she said, softly. "I will do anything, and everything, that you might want."
"That is known to me," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said, tossing her head, a bit irritably.
"Would you like to be made more beautiful?" I asked.
"Of course," she said, lightly, "if it is my master's wish."
I then released her, and she stood there.
I went to the side of the room and picked up my sea bag. I threw it to the center of the room. She looked down at it, puzzled. It was of heavy blue material, canvas, and tied with a white rope.
"Lie down upon it," I told her, "on your back, your head to the floor."
She did so.
"No, please," she said, "not like this." It is a common position for a disciplinary slave rape. In it the woman feels very vulnerable, very helpless.
I then took her.
"No," she wept, in English, "have you no respect for my feelings? Am I nothing to you?"
I stood up. I had, by intent, given her no time to respond, other than as a brutalized slave, no time to feel, other than as a girl unilaterally subjected to her master's pleasure. She looked up at me, miserably.
"Crawl now to the mirror," I told her, "on your hands and knees, and regard yourself."
Miserable, she did so, her hair falling before her face, trembling, her sweet breasts pendant. She lifted her head, and gasped, looking in the mirror.
"Do you see?" I asked.
"Yes," she said, and then wept, her head down.
"Lift your head again," I said, "and again look."
She did so.
"Do you see?" I asked.
"Yes," she said, weeping, "the slave is more beautiful than before." She then put down her head again, crying.
"Crawl now to the straw, by the slave ring," I told her. "Lie down there, drawing your legs up."
"Yes, Master," she said.
I then went to her, with a blanket, and threw it over her, but not yet covering her head.
She looked up at me, so vulnerable and delicate, so helpless and frightened. "I am more beautiful now," she said. "But how? How could it be?"
"It is the result of an inward change in you," I said, "outwardly manifested in expression and bodily mien."
"But what?" she asked.
"Speak your feelings," I told her.
"Never before," she said, "did I feel so helplessly owned."
"That has something to do with it," I told her.
"You subjected me so casually, so forcibly, to your will," she said.
"That, too, has something to do with it," I told her.
"You are my Master, aren't you?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"You can do with me whatever you want, can't you?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"And you will, won't you?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"I love being owned," she said, suddenly.
"Of course," I said, "you are a woman."
"If a woman loves being owned," she said, "must she not be a natural slave?"
"Answer your own question," I told her. "You are the woman."
"I dare not answer it," she whispered.
"Do so," I told her.
"Yes," she whispered, frightened, "she must be a natural slave."
"And you are a woman," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Draw your conclusion," I told her, "out loud."
"I am a natural slave, Master," she said.
"Yes," I said.
She looked up at me. "Never, never did I think I would admit that in my life," she said.
"It takes great courage," I told her.
There were tears in her eyes.
"But, as yet," I said, "it is largely only an intellectual recognition on your part. It is not yet internalized, not yet a part of the totality of your being and responses."
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Nonetheless, the intellectual recognition, abstract and superficial as it is, is a useful first step in the transformation of your consciousness, and the freeing of your deepest self, with her profundities of emotions and needs."
"My deepest self is feminine," she said.
"Yes," I said, "it is only your present consciousness which has been to some extent masculinized and, to a larger extent, neuterized. Beneath the patterns, the trainings, the roles, lies the woman. It is she whom we must seek. It is she whom we must free."
"I am afraid to be feminine," she said.
"You will be punished for femininity on this world," I told her, "only by free women."
"Free!" she laughed, miserably.
"They think themselves free," I said.
"Could I dare to be a woman on this world?" she asked.
"Yes," I told her.
"But what if I wish to crawl to a handsome man, and beg to obey him?" she asked.
"On this world," I told her, "you may do so."
"But would he not then, as a gentleman, scandalized, lift me hastily to my feet, embarrassed, implicitly belittling me, and encouraging me to the pursuit of masculine virtues?"
"Would you fear that?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
"Is that why you would hesitate to crawl to a man?" I asked.
"Of course," she said.
"On this world, as a slave," I said, "you need have no fear."
"What would he do on this world?" she asked.
"Perhaps instruct you in the proper way to crawl to his feet," I said.
"Oh," she said.
"If you did not do so beautifully enough," I said, "he might whip you."
"Whip me?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
She looked at me.
"Gorean men are not easy to please, Slave," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Masculinity and femininity are complementary properties," I told her. "If a man wishes a woman to be more feminine, he must be more masculine. If a woman wishes a man to be more masculine, she must be more feminine."
"I am thinking of the far world from which I came, Master," she said. "I think there may be a fearful corollary to what you have said. Perhaps if a man fears a woman he will want her to be more like a man, and if a woman fears a man she will want him to be more like a woman."