She returned in some twenty Ehn with an armful of dried branches. She was then sent forth twice more.
Following her return, the third time, he took her to a stout post, some six feet high, with two rings, one high, one low, at the side of the camp, one he had had placed there earlier, indeed, with she, the errant slave, in mind, knelt her before it and then braceleted her hands behind the post, and, with the chain leash, pulled her head back against it.
He then closed the gate, built a fire, the first since their journey had begun, and prepared food.
After he had eaten, he rejoined the slave, and fed her some small viands by hand, and gave her of drink, water from a bota.
"May I speak, Master?” she begged.
"No,” he said. He had not permitted her to speak, even from the time of the cage.
Tears sprang to her eyes.
She tried to pull out a bit from the post, and thrust her belly toward him. She whimpered, piteously.
Thus, he thought, were the women of Earth, if brought to the comprehension of their sex. But so, too, were the women of Gor. The differences between them were not biological, but cultural. Interesting, he thought, how the women of Gor look down upon, and despise, the women of Earth as aroused, salacious barbarians, and yet themselves, identically, will whimper and squirm in slave bracelets, pull against chains, writhe in ropes, and lift their bellies pathetically for a master's touch. Cabot saw little to choose between them. Both, reduced to essentials, were the same, human females.
The slave fought the bracelets; she turned her head back and forth, in frustration, in the chain leash that held her head back, against the post. In her eyes were tears. Again and again, struggling, she thrust her belly toward him, supplicatingly.
"She would sell well,” he thought.
He thought, too, of the young men of her former world, how well they might be pleased to see her so.
"No,” he said.
He then went to the opened gate, and peered into the woods. He smiled. He then swung the gate closed.
He returned to the vicinity of the fire and, with a stone, sharpened the two edges of the ax he had brought with him.
This took some time.
Before retiring he again visited the slave, and rebraceleted her hands before her, and about the post, and fastened the chain leash in such a way that she could lift her head no more than a foot from the ground.
She turned, as she could, to view him, and raised her head to the extent permitted by the leash, it shortened and locked about the lower post ring.
"May I speak, Master?” she begged. “Please, may I speak?"
"Tomorrow,” he said.
"Thank you, Master!” she said, bursting into tears. “Thank you, thank you, Master!"
"Now, be silent,” he said.
"Yes, Master,” she said.
She then, at a gesture from Cabot, lay swiftly down, for she well knew how a slave is to obey, immediately, and unquestioningly, and he threw a blanket over her. He did this in such a way that it covered her head, as well.
Slaves are often kept in ignorance.
Curiosity, after all, is not becoming to them.
Chapter, the Seventy-Seventh:
WHAT OCCURRED LATER IN THE FOREST CAMP
"May I speak, Master?” she asked.
"And how are you to speak?” he asked.
"As I must,” she said, “as what I am, as a slave before her master."
"You may speak,” he said.
It was morning. She knelt before him. Her knees were in the position of a pleasure slave.
"How clever they are,” thought Cabot.
Cabot had his back to the gate, which he had opened.
"I will not whip her for that,” thought Cabot, “though I know what she is trying to do. Indeed, I think that within that extraordinarily tantalizing body which so stirs me, which I could almost hate for the effect it has on me, there lies concealed, unknown even to she herself, piteously needful, a pleasure slave."
"Master?” inquired the slave.
But Cabot was considering the delicacy, sensitivity, and beauty of her features, the clearness of her eyes, the sheen of her hair, still somewhat shorter than would be ideal for her marketing, and the sweet, tender, vulnerable femininity of her, to which she might not yet be fully reconciled, but which was she, and which would muchly improve her price; how wondrously, he thought, does the femininity of a woman emerge and manifest itself when she is collared, no longer needing to be hidden, or denied, no longer a source of embarrassment, shame, or regret, and how nicely on her lovely neck appeared that collar, his collar, close-fitting and locked. Yes, they should be slaves, he thought. And, he thought, too, while considering her various characteristics, which might appeal to buyers, though she is naive, confused, uncertain of herself, a stranger to herself, in some ways alien to herself, yet she has surely a fine, supple mind, quick, and, even, within its limits, those of Earth, educated. Such things add to a slave's value. To be sure, she was woefully ignorant of Gor, but so, too, are most Earth females brought to the Gorean markets. What need they to know, other than that they are slaves, and must please their masters? How beautiful she was! He decided he would keep her illiterate. Reading and writing was the province of free persons, not of such as she, a slave.
But she has a considerable intelligence, he thought, the sort of intelligence which a man can appreciate, the sort of intelligence he wants at his feet.
"Master?” she asked.
He sat cross-legged, regarding her. The ax lay beside him, at hand.
"You may speak,” he said.
In moments then, tears running down her cheeks, to her collar, and body, stammering, half-choked, words tumbling out one upon another, piteously, only half-coherently, she addressed her master, and as what she knew she was, a slave.
"Forgive me, Master!” she wept. “I was a miserable and foolish slave. I did not realize what I was doing. I felt abandoned! You did not take me with you! You left me in the camp! Better you had bound me, and whipped me, to hurry me before you! Better you had put me on a chain and dragged me behind you! I could not bear to be left behind! Could you not better have burdened me and struck me with switches if I lagged? I wanted so to go with you! You did not permit it! Had I not accompanied you before? Had you not taken me with you before? I wept, grieved, I was outraged, I would teach you you could not treat me in that fashion, you could not do that to me, not to me! I was not thinking clearly! I was foolish! I made a terrible mistake! I should have realized that it was your will, and that I am subject to your will, but I did not! I did a foolish and stupid thing! I ran away! Forgive me, Master! Please, forgive me!"
But Cabot listened to her, impassively.
"I did not understand I was in a collar,” she said. “I did not realize there was nowhere to go, nowhere to run. I did not understand then that there was no escape for me, nor for any girl in a collar! I was soon picked up by partisans, and found myself roped, and sequestered. After the resolution of the war I was taken to the habitats, where I was caged, as was fitting for me, caged, to await my master, and my fate. You are my master! Please, forgive me, Master!"
She put down her head, sobbing.
"Did you ever expect, on Earth, to be as you are now, before one such as I, speaking so?"
"No, Master,” she said.
"In the cage,” he said, “initially, you showed me too little respect. You did not assume first obeisance position. You did not speak to me appropriately, as a slave."
"Forgive me, Master,” she whispered.
Cabot had his back to the opened gate. The girl had her head down.
"Did you think you were still on Earth?” asked Cabot.
"Forgive me, Master."
"You were not on Earth,” he said.
"No, Master,” she whispered.