"You, yourself," I said, "Do not seem much infected by the lunacy of theWaniyanpi."
"No," she said. "I am not. I have had red masters. From them I have learned newtruths. Too, I was taken from the community at an early age."
"How old were you?" I asked.
"I was taken from the enclosure when I was eight years old," she said, "takenhome by a Kaiila warrior as a pretty little white slave for his ten-year-oldson. I learned early to please and placate men."
"What happened?" I asked.
"There is little more to tell," she said. "For seven years I was the slave of myyoung master. He was kind to me, and protected me, muchly, from the otherchildren. Although I was only his slave, I think he liked me. He did not put mein a leg stretcher until I was fifteen." She was then silent. "I have combed myhair," she said.
"Come here," I said, "and, kneel here." She rose from the water, it drippingfrom her body, and came and knelt on the grass, on the bank of the small stream,where I had indicated. I took the comb from her and laid it to the side. I thentook the brush and, kneeling behind her, began to brush out her hair. It is notunusual for Gorean masters to comb and groom slaves, or ornament thempersonally, much as they might any animal that they owned.
"We were gathering berries," she said. "Then I saw him, suddenly, almostangrily, cutting a stick, and notching it with his knife. Too, he had thongs. Iwas afraid, for I had seen other white slaves put in such devices. He turned toface me. His voice seemed loud, and full, and husky. "Take off your dress," besaid, "and lie down, and throw your legs widely apart." I began to cry, but Iobeyed him, and quickly, for I was his slave. I felt my ankles lashed tightly tothe stick, the stick behind them. I had not realized that he had grown sostrong. Then he rose to his feet and looked down at me. I was helpless. Helaughed with pleasure, a man's laugh, who sees a woman tied before him. I wascrying. He crouched down beside me. Then, suddenly, scarcely before I understoodwhat I was doing, I opened my arms to him, overcome suddenly by the stirrings ofmy womanhood. He embraced me. I began to sob again, but this time with joy. Thefirst time it was finished almost before we realized it. But he did not leaveme. For hours we remained among the tiny fruit, talking and kissing, andcaressing. Later, near dusk, he freed me, that I might gather berries for him,and feed them to him. Later I lay on my belly before him and kissed his feet.
That night we returned to the village. That others in the village mightunderstand what had happened, he did not permit me to ride behind him, on hiskaiila. He tied my bands behind my back and marched me at his stirrup, a thongon my neck tied to the pommel of his saddle. Two children had left the camp thatmorning. What returned to it that night were a master and his claimed whiteslave. I was very proud. I was very happy."
"What then happened? I asked. I stopped brushing her hair.
"I loved my master," she said, "and I think that he, too, cared for me."
"Yes?" I said.
"That it seemed he had grown fond of me brought ridicule on him from hiscomrades," she said. "To this sort of thing, as you might not know, red savages,in their tribal groups, are extremely sensitive. To allay these charges he, inhis anger, would berate me publicly, and even beat me in the presence of others.
At last, to put an end to the matter, and perhaps fearing these charges might betrue, be sold me to an older man, one from another village. After that I hadmany masters, and now I have yet another."
I then began again to brush her hair. "Was it the lad who gave you the namePimples?" I asked.
"Yes," she said. "I was given the name at puberty and, for some reason, it wasnever changed. Red masters commonly give such names to their white slaves,trivial names that seem fitting for slaves. My first year as the slave of myyoung master I was not even given a name. I was referred to only as Wicincala,or "Girl. I was later called "Wihinpaspa', which means lodge-pin or tent-pin,probably because I was little and thin. Then later, as I have mentioned, I wascalled "Pimples', "Wasnapohdi', which name, partly because of habit, and partlybecause it amused my masters, was kept on me."
"You are neither little nor thin," I said, "and, as I have earlier remarked, youdo not have pimples."
"Perhaps I might bring four hides," she laughed.
"It is not impossible," I said. "Do you think your first master would recognizeyou now?" I asked.
"I do not know," she said. "I would suppose so."
"Do you remember him?" I asked.
"Yes," she said. "It is difficult to forget the first man who tied you."
"Do you love him? I asked. I laid the brush aside.
"I do not know," she said. "It was long ago. He sold me."
"Oh," she said, her hands now thonged behind her back. She tensed.
"Did your red masters teach you well what it is to be a slave?" I asked.
"Yes, Master," she said.
I tightened the knots on her wrists.
"Do you think your lot will be easier with us?" I asked.
"I do not know, Master," she winced.
"It will not be," I assured her.
"Yes, Master," she said.
I bent down and kissed her on the side, on one of the long welts raised by thewhip stroke, one of the blows in virtue of which she was assessed.
"You struck me with great force," she said.
"No, I did not," I said.
She shuddered. "You are then very strong," she whispered.
I turned her about, and put her on her back, before me. I knelt beside her andsniffed her belly. "Again," I said, "you are womnaka."
"I am only a slave," she said. "Does it please you, or displease you, that I amunable to resist you?"
"It does not displease me," I said. I then touched her.
"Oh," she cried, eyes closed, squirming helplessly, rearing half upward,trussed, then falling back. She looked at me, wildly.
"You are indeed a slave," I told her.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Do you beg to be had?" I asked.
"Yes, Master," she said. "Yes, Master!"
"First," I said, "You will earn your keep. You will be put to work."
"Yes, Master," she said.
I then pulled her to her knees and lay then on one elbow, indolently, watchingher. She then, on her knees, her hands bound behind her, with her hair, hermouth and body, need fully and desperately, began to please me. In a short whileI took her and threw her beneath me.
Aiii!" she sobbed. "I yield me your slave, my Master!" She was superb. Iwondered if the lad who had been her former master, and who now must be a man,and had sold her, had any idea as to the wonder, the surrendered, curvaceous,obedient, orgasmic triumph, which his little Lodge-Pin or Pimples, now aravishing, helpless beauty, had become. Had he any notion of this it wasdifficult to imagine that he would be able to rest until he had once againfastened his beaded collar on her throat. Clearly she was now the sort of womanfor whom men might kill.
"Am I worth four hides, Master?" she asked, gasping.
"Five," I assured her.
She laughed, and kissed me happily.
"This is Wagmezahu, Corn Stalks," said Grunt. "He is Fleer."
"Hou," said Corn Stalks.
"Hou," said I to him.
"Is the new slave satisfactory?" asked Grunt.
"Quite," I said.
"Good," he said.
I sat back, cross-legged, away from the fire. I now understood why Grunt hadbeen scanning the plains. I now understood why he had wished to remain at thetrading point. He had, doubtless, been waiting for this Fleer. This was also,doubtless, the reason he had encouraged me to take my time with the new girl,which I had, that they not be disturbed. Although the Fleer speak a languageclearly akin to Kaiila and Dust Leg there bad often been strife among them.