A: A collar.
Q: What sort of collar?
A: A slave collar.
Q: Why is it on you?
A: It is on me because I am a slave.
Q: What is a slave?
A: Property.
Q: And what are the duties of such a property?
A: To please her master, in all ways, to the best of her ability.
Q: Whose collar do you wear?
A: I wear your collar, Master.
Q: And what does that mean?
A: That I am your slave, Master.
Q: What, then, are your duties?
A: To please you, in all ways, to the best of my ability.
Q: Do you beg to be permitted to do this?
A: I do so beg, Master.
Q: And are you aware of the penalties for failing to be found fully pleasing, in all ways, to the best of your ability?
A: Yes, Master.
Q: And are you afraid?
A: Yes, Master.
"You did well,” said Cabot. “If you had not done well, you would have been switched, and then, later, examined again, and if you did not do well then, you would be switched, again, and so on. Soon, you would do it well. You would do it perfectly."
"I was switched, more than once, in the cylinder,” she said.
"Do you recall the sting of those blows, even now?” he asked.
She shuddered. “Yes, Master,” she said.
"Spread your knees,” he said, “kneel straight, back on your heels, head up, palms of your hands down on your thighs."
The slave began to tremble.
"Head up!” he said. “Do you wish to be put in a high collar, to keep your head up?"
"No, Master,” she said, quickly.
Such collars are common with Kur pets. They are also used from time to time in slave training.
"Do you know in what position you have been placed?” he asked.
Certainly this was a rhetorical question, for she would have learned this position in the pleasure cylinder, and Cabot, himself, in the pleasure cylinder, near Lake Fear, and elsewhere, had put her in it often enough.
"The position of a Gorean pleasure slave,” she said. “Am I a pleasure slave?"
"Are you?” he asked.
"I would hope to give pleasure to my master,” she said.
"You,” he said, “a woman of Earth, desire to give pleasure to a master?"
"Surely that is not unusual for a woman of Earth,” she said. “In the history of that world millions of women have been held in bondage, and even now it is not known how many are in bondage. And in countless places, throughout that world, there are countless slaves, secret slaves, at the feet of their masters. It is not so rare, really, for there are men and women, and where there are men and women, there are masters and slaves. And untold millions of women fantasize themselves helpless in the chains of masters, fearing the whips of their owners, and millions, as well, are the slaves of their lovers, as they wish to be, though they dare not acknowledge this truth even to the unsuspecting lover. She fears being scorned for her realities and needs. She knows it is a slave he holds in his arms, but she is afraid to tell him so. How her heart cries out to kneel before him, to kiss his feet, to be bound by him, to feel the stroke of his switch, to be mastered by him, and yet she dares not speak. It then is only she who knows that about her neck, unseen, quite invisible, but as real as steel, is the collar of a slave."
"You seem to have inquired into these things,” he said.
"I have long known myself a slave, Master,” she said.
"As I recall,” he said, “your name was once Virginia Cecily Jean Pym."
"Yes, Master,” she said, “but I am now Cecily."
"That is a slave name,” he said.
"I understand that, Master."
"And you are a slave."
"Yes, Master,” she said.
"A slave's duties,” he said, “are to serve and please her master, in all ways, to the best of her ability."
"Yes, Master,” she said.
"Have you done so?"
"Master?"
"To all fours,” he said, angrily, “and crawl to the post of discipline."
"What are you going to do?” she said, frightened. Then she said, quickly, “Yes, Master!” And crawled, her master on his feet beside her, to the foot of the post. She was familiar with the post. She had been fastened to it her first day in the camp; she had been fastened, standing, to it, belly facing it, during the duel of Cabot and Flavion, and during the arrival and vengeance of Lord Grendel; and she had been chained to it often enough since then, sometimes with other slaves, usually by an ankle, the left, which is the customary chaining ankle for a female slave.
When she had reached the post, he said, “Kneel, facing the post."
"Yes, Master,” she said, uncertainly.
He braceleted her left wrist and passed the other bracelet through the post's lower ring and then snapped it about her right wrist. She was then before the post, kneeling, fastened to it.
"What are you going to do?” she asked.
"Whip you,” he said, and then left her there, leaving to fetch an appropriate implement.
He did not return for some time.
When he did return she could see that he carried a five-stranded Gorean slave lash, with broad blades. She had seen such a thing in the pleasure cylinder. It is designed for the disciplining of female slaves. It punishes nicely, but does not mark, for that might lower the slave's sales value.
"You are of Earth,” she said. “I am of Earth! You cannot be serious!"
"I have not fastened you standing at the post,” he said, “your hands over your head, for I feared you might be driven against the post, and injured."
She scarcely registered what he had said. It was only later that she better understood its import.
She jerked at the bracelets, angrily. It seemed she might wish to rise, but she could not, of course, fastened as she was, have stood erect.
"Remain kneeling,” he said, “or go to your belly."
"You are joking!” she insisted.
"If you wish,” he said, “you may brace your hands against the post, or your shoulder, to prevent being dashed against it. Later, you may wish to go to your belly in the dirt. It is permitted."
"I am of Earth!” she cried.
"No longer,” he said.
"I am sorry I ran away!” she said. “I am sorry if I spoke to you with insufficient respect! I am sorry if I did not perform obeisance when it was appropriate to do so! I am sorry that I foolishly used your name in addressing you! I am sorry if I have displeased you in any way! Forgive me! Please, forgive me!"
"Do not do this!” she said. “You cannot do it, for I am from Earth, and such things are not for me. I am from Earth and such things cannot be done to me! Do you think I am no more than a Gorean girl, some simple slave, to be put without a second thought beneath the lash? I am from Earth, from Earth!"
"Do not fear,” he said, shaking out the blades of the supple tool. “You will not be beaten as a man is beaten, with the fullness of a man's strength, and such, nor with a whip such as is used on men, say, the snake. This whip is for female slaves, and has been developed over a long period of time, perhaps centuries, to attend nicely to their discipline. Similarly I will not whip you at great length, but only to the extent you deserve, so richly, and to the extent which I hope will rectify your behavior."
"Do not whip me!” she pleaded.
"A crossbar fastened between two posts is often used, to which the slave, kneeling or standing, may be fastened,” he said. “In this way they will not be bruised, or torn, as they might be, against a post, or a wall, such things. An overhead ring might also be used with the same end in view. Such rings are found in many Gorean dwellings."
She then recalled that before, in the forest, when she had been put in whip position, she had been fastened, her hands over her head, rather in the open, to a thick, overhead branch. Only now was the purpose of that, in virtue of the remarks of her master, earlier and now, fully, consciously clear to her, as she might writhe and try to flee the whip, to protect her from forcible contact with a hard surface.