She clutched the tunic, looking at me. She did not draw it on.
"I am no longer a virgin, Master," she said.
"That is known to me, I assure you," I said.
"I am now only a full and opened slave," she said, "no different from othergirls, one, like them, readily available at the master's least desire."
"Yes," I said.
"I am not sore, Master," she said.
I nodded.
"But that does not make any difference, does it?" she asked.
"No," I said.
"Master," she whispered.
"Perhaps now you should garb yourself," I said.
"This is garb?" she asked, smiling, holding out the tunic. "It is scarcely ascanty rag."
"It leaves little doubt as to your charms," I admitted.
"It does not even have a nether closure," she said.
"It is not supposed to," I said. "Do you know why?"
"That I may be reminded that I am a slave," she smiled, "that my vulnerabilitymay be heightened, that I may be invaluable to masters."
"Ginger and Evelyn have taught you that," I said.
"They have taught us many things," she said.
"What about intimate secrets of slave love-making?" I asked.
"No, Master," she said.
"The little she-sleen are doubtless guarding such secrets from you," I said. "Ishall speak to Grunt in the morning. It will not prove to be in their interestto persist in this particular reticence."
"Yes, Master," she said, frightened.
"They will teach you, and the other jewels on the coffle, all they can, andquickly," I said. "Failure will be cause for severe discipline."
"Yes, Master," she whispered.
"An ignorant free woman is a commonplace," I said. "An ignorant slave is anabsurdity."
"You mean I am actually to be taught how to please man, trained?" she asked.
"Yes," I said, "trained, as the lovely animal you are."
She looked at me, frightened.
"And I advise you to learn your lessons well," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"You are doubtless familiar, from your former world, with arts such as sewingand cooking, commonly thought appropriate for women," I said.
"Of course, Master," she said.
"Can you cook and sew?" I asked.
"No, Master," she said. "Such arts, I thought, were for lower women."
"You will learn them," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"But beyond such arts as cooking and sewing, arts commonly thought appropriatefor women, arts with which you are familiar, there are, obviously, many otherarts. It should thus come as no surprise to you that among these other should becertain delicate, delicious and intimate arts, particularly appropriate to thefemale slave."
"I suppose not, Master," she said.
"You are not a wastrel free woman," I said. "You are a slave. You must earn yourkeep."
She trembled.
"Why do you think you were purchased?" I asked.
She put her small hand before her mouth, fearfully.
"Take your hand away from your mouth," I said. "I would see the lips of theslave."
Swiftly she lowered her hand.
"Straighten your back," I said.
She did so.
"The free woman," I said, "lies down, and waits to see what will happen. Thefemale slave kneels beside her master, and begs to please him. The free womandeems it sufficient that she should exist, the slave girl, on the other hand, isexpected not only to exist, but to excel; indeed, she fears only, commonly, thatshe may not be sufficiently marvelous for her master. It is little wonder thatmost men find the free woman, in her inertness, her ignorance and arrogance,boring. It is little wonder that most men prefer to order her rival to theirfurs, the helpless, collared, curvaceous, lascivious, feminine slave."
"I was once a free woman," said the girl.
"There is hope for the free woman," I said. "She may put in a collar, andstripped, and made subject to the whip. She may then, enslaved, be trained, too,for the pleasure of men."
"Yes, Master," whispered the girl.
"Training, then, should not come as a surprise to you," I said. "It is quitenatural for female slaves to be given training."
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Expect, then, to be trained," I said.
"I shall, Master," she said.
I regarded her.
Suddenly she flung herself on her belly across the dark blankets. She reached tomy left ankle and holding it with her small hands, began to kiss at my foot.
"Slaves may beg to please their masters, may they not?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"I beg to please my Master," she said. Her lips were warm and soft on my foot.
"I am not your master," I said.
"All free men are my masters," she said, "as all free women are my mistresses."
"That is true," I granted her.
"I beg to please you, as my Master," she said, "and, indeed, tonight, in theseblankets, you are my master, for it is you who have opened me and to whom I havebeen consigned in these hours for your pleasure."
It was true. I was her current use-master. In these hours, in my blankets, shemust be to me as my own slave. In these hours, in my blankets, for all practicalpurposes, I owned her.
I felt her tongue.
"Consider me," she whispered, "for your renewed pleasure."
It is pleasant, as you might well imagine, receiving such attentions from awoman. It is particularly pleasant, I assure you, when she is a slave, for thenshe is owned, and you in do with her what you wish.
"Please, Master," she begged.
"Perhaps," I said.
"Slaves such as I are not trained only by women, are we, Master?" she asked.
"No," I said. "Many Goreans believe that the finest of slave trainers are men,and that only a man with a whip, and total power over a woman, can properlyteach her to be slave."
"Do you have a whip, Master?" she asked.
"My belt will do," I told her.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"But, in my opinion," I said, "This is over simple. I believe that other women,particularly if they are slaves themselves can be superb slave trainers. Manyslave houses, of course, maintain both male and female trainers. My own theorythat if a girl is to have but one trainer, it is doubtless best for that trainerto be a man, for the girl, in her bondage, is a] most certain to have to relateprimarily to men, to please placate and serve them, and so on. On the otherhand, I think it is also undeniable that a girl can learn much from anothergirl, one who has survived, and is surviving, as a slave."
"Surviving? ' she asked.
"Yes," I said, "for the slave girls who are not pleasing are commonly killed."
She put the side of her head fearfully down on my foot.
"Be pleasing," I told her.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"But most girls," I said, "not only survive as slaves, but thrive as slaves."
"Master?" she asked.
"Yes," I said. "You may find this hard to grasp now, but most girls, as you willlearn, once they discover its authenticity and inescapability, blossom joyously,submitted, in their bondage; in it they occupy their place in nature; in it,subject to the authority and power of strong men, owned and mastereduncompromisingly as mere slaves, they obtain their deepest biologicalself-realization, their ultimate fulfillment. In it, in their place in nature,they become women, as outside of it, they cannot. As the true woman is the trueslave, no woman can become a true woman who is not a true slave."
"Men and women, then," she said, "are not the same."
"No," I said. "Men are the masters. Women are the slaves. Your world has taughtboth sexes to strive for what are, in effect, masculine, or neuteristic, values.
This produces unhappiness and frustration for both sexes. Hormonally normalwomen find it difficult or impossible to achieve happiness through the adoptionof, in effect, transvestite values. Similarly this perversion of valuescomplicates or precludes, for the glandularly normal male, the achievement of anatural biological fulfillment. Both sexes, then, frequently fail to obtainhappiness, or fall far short of the happiness of which they are both capable,that happiness which is a consequence of maintaining a biological fidelity totheir separate natures."