"I do not understand,” said the brunette slave.
"I would not speak to the master of being cared for. You are a slave. Why should you be cared for?"
"But is that not what we want, dear Corinna, that our masters might care for us, if only a little?"
"Of course,” said Corinna. “It is what any slave desires, and dreams of, but do not speak to the master of such things. You might be quickly beaten and sold. What master would admit that he is fond of so low and worthless a thing as a slave? Suppose a free woman should hear of it?"
"We must fear free women?"
"Terribly,” whispered Corinna.
"I have known only one free woman,” said the brunette slave, “the Lady Bina."
"It is true she is free,” said Corinna, “but she does not even count. She is unfamiliar with Gor. She has no real conception of the haughtiness and power of the Gorean free woman, in her pride, in her regalia, her robes and veils. We are nothing before them, only lowly, half-naked, shapely, collared beasts, who must kneel, and grovel, in terror at their sandals."
"I want to be loved,” said the brunette slave.
"Oh, be silent, foolish slave,” cautioned Corinna. “What if a master should hear? Do you wish to be whipped? Do you wish to be marketed? Concern yourself rather with being an abject slave, wholly submitted. It is yours to serve, and be pleasing."
"Do you not want to be loved?"
"With my whole heart, but one dares not speak of such things to the master. One is only a slave."
"I love being a slave,” said the brunette.
"We all do,” said Corinna. “Your name is Lita, is it not?"
"It was,” said the brunette. “But the master has named me anew. I am now ‘Cecily'."
"That is an Earth-girl name, is it not?” said Corinna.
"Yes,” said the brunette.
"Do you like it?"
"I hate it!"
"Perhaps that is why you are now ‘Cecily',” said Corinna.
"Doubtless,” said the brunette, petulantly. “I do not like the name. It was one of my names, when I was free."
"It is not the same name,” said Corinna. “It is now only a slave name, put on you as one might name a sleen, or kaiila."
"Perhaps it is not so bad, then,” said the brunette, “if it is only a slave name."
"That is all it is,” said Corinna, “and I think it is a rather pretty name, an excellent name for an Earth-girl slave."
"'Corinna’ is an Earth-girl name,” said the brunette. “Your Gorean is beautiful. Could you be from Earth?"
"No,” laughed Corinna, “I am Gorean, and many of my Gorean collar sisters would look down on me for even speaking to an Earth-girl slave. The name ‘Corinna’ was put on me that I might see myself as no better than the lowliest of slaves. Too, I think my noble master, Peisistratus, finds the name sexually stimulating on a Gorean girl."
"I want to be sexually stimulating to my master,” said the brunette.
"Oh, you are,” said Corinna. “I have seen him. He must struggle to keep his hands off you!"
"He has not touched me in months,” said the brunette.
"I find that hard to believe,” said Corinna. “Is he readying you for a sale?"
"I trust not,” said the brunette. “Teach me to better please him!"
"What are your feelings?” asked Corinna.
"I flame,” wept the brunette. “I kneel appropriately, I place myself before him, as the mere slave I am, I beg! But he does not touch me! I want to scream with need."
"Have slave fires been set in your belly?” asked Corinna.
"Yes,” cried the brunette, softly, piteously, “and they torment me, and torment me. Fiercely they burn, and I am left untouched!"
"Poor slave!” said Corinna.
"Dare I ask, dear Corinna,” said the brunette, “if such fires have been set in your belly?"
"Of course,” said Corinna. “It is something men do to us. I now have a slave belly. In it my fires burn frequently and deeply, but my master, Peisistratus, contents me."
"He loves you!” said the brunette.
"Surely not!” said Corinna. “I am a mere slave, no more than an object he uses for his pleasure!"
"He does love you,” said the brunette.
"Surely your master has put you to his purposes,” said Corinna.
"Muchly, long ago,” said the brunette, “but not since I ran away."
"That was a very stupid and foolish thing to do, Cecily,” said Corinna.
The brunette touched her collar. “I know,” she said.
"And how were you punished?” asked Corinna.
"I was not punished,” said the brunette.
"Not punished?"
"Yes."
"That is very strange."
"Many times I writhe in need,” said the brunette.
"Perhaps that is your punishment,” said Corinna.
"Tell me of pleasure and the masters!” begged the brunette.
"The masters need not be concerned with our pleasures,” said Corinna, “for we are slaves. They may slake their lusts upon us, peremptorily, and as they choose, unilaterally, without the least consideration for us, no more than for a sandal in which they might press their foot, for we are slaves. To be sure, they sometimes, for their amusement, are patient with us, inducing in us feelings we may not, and cannot, resist, feelings which transform us into helpless, rejoicing, sobbing, grateful, begging toys."
"I would,” said the brunette, “be touched by my master, though he had no more interest in me or no more cared for me than a carpet beneath his feet. And if he would deign to be patient with me I would love to be his dominated, helpless, yielding, begging toy."
"Oh, yes,” breathed Corinna, softly.
"You, too?” said the brunette.
"Certainly,” said Corinna. “Do not reproach yourself. We cannot help ourselves, nor do we wish to."
"We are in collars,” said the brunette.
"Yes,” said Corinna.
"And slave fires burn in our bellies."
"Yes,” said Corinna, smiling, “the masters have seen to that. How much now, and how helplessly, are we theirs!"
"But might they not, sometimes, be kind to us, and grant us a caress, and more, for our own sake?"
"Surely,” said Corinna, “much as one might pat a kaiila, or pet a domestic sleen."
"More than that?” asked the brunette.
"Let us speak softly,” said Corinna. “Many times, doubtless more often than they care for, or would admit, masters grow quite fond of their slaves."
"Doubtless free women would object to this,” said the brunette.
"It is surely another reason they hate us,” said Corinna, “and with such ferocity."
"Might they not envy us?” asked the brunette slave.
"Doubtless they do, and cruelly,” said Corinna, “but one would dare not even suggest such a thing, lest they would see to it that the flesh were lashed from our bones."
"The master who is fond of his slave,” said the brunette, “would surely be concerned, at least to some extent, to assuage the needs of his property, to relieve the miseries of her tensions, to attend to her slave fires, which he has done so much to ignite and stoke?"
"Certainly,” said Corinna, “but he may keep her in suspense, see to it that she begs prettily, and such, and sometimes, the monsters, will bring us to the brink of ecstasy, for which each particle of our hungering, raging body cries out, and then pause, that we may the better know ourselves as subdued and helpless slaves, fully at the mercy of our masters, and then, if they wish, when they wish, if we beg desperately and piteously enough, they might grant us the tiny kiss or touch which sends us weeping amongst the stars."
"My master does not touch me,” wept the brunette.
"How cruel are the masters!” exclaimed Corinna.
The brunette pulled against the chain on her ankle. “If I were not chained,” she said, “I would crawl to him, cover his feet with kisses, and beg for his least caress."