"She responded to your commands earlier," I said. "She must know Gorean, too."
"Do you speak Gorean?" he asked. She might, after all, know only certaincommands, much as might a sleen.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"I shall attend to the camp," said Grunt, looking about. "See that she has abath at the stream."
"All right," I said.
"Do not hurry with her," he said. "There is no hurry in returning."
"All right," I said. Grunt was looking about, scanning the surroundinggrasslands. Then he went to the coffle, where Ginger was waiting. He would freecertain of the girls and set them about their duties. We would make camp, itseemed, early this day.
I looked down at the girl at my feet. She looked up at me. I kicked her. Shewinced. "On your hands and knees," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
I indicated to her the direction of the stream.
"Yes, Master," she said.
She would crawl to it. She was a slave.
"You whipped me well," she smiled, kneeling in the shallow stream, pouring wateron her body.
"You whip well," I commended her.
"Thank you, Master," she said.
The sexually responsive woman whips well. This is probably a function of thehigh degree of her skin sensitivity and the depth and vulnerability of herfeelings, tier sensitivity and responsiveness make her peculiarly helpless underthe lash. She who writhes best under the lash, so say the Goreans, writhes bestin the furs.
"The water," I said, "has wrought quite a transformation in you." She was now,substantially, cleaned. Most of the dust and blood, the grime, the dirt andsweat, had been washed away. Her dark hair, wet now, seemed very dark, veryshiny. She knelt in the water, removing tangles and snarls from her hair.
"No longer, at least," she said, "Am I womnaka."
"What is that?" I asked.
"Master does not speak Dust Leg or Kaiila?" she asked.
"No," I said.
"It is something which exudes much odor," she laughed.
"What did Grunt, who is your master, the fellow in the broad-brimmed hat, callyou? I asked.
"Wicincala'," she said, "which means "Girl', and "Amomona', which means "Baby' or "Doll'."
"I see," I said. I myself prefer the application of such expressions not toslaves, but to pretentious free women, to remind them that they, in spite oftheir freedom, are only women. They are useful, by the way, in making a freewoman uneasy, their use suggesting to her that perhaps the male is consideringshortly enslaving her. In speaking to a slave I prefer expressions such as" Slave' or "Slave Girl', or the girl's name itself, she understanding clearly,of course, that it is only a slave name. "And what did you call him?" I asked.
"Wicayuhe', "Itancanka'," she said, "words which mean Master."
"I thought so," I said.
I sat on the bank, watching her work with her hair. She was now combing it out,with her fingers. She would not yet be entitled, of course, to use the commonbrush and comb slotted for the use of the coffle. The other girls, unless themasters intervened, would vote on whether or not she was to be granted its use.
This is a way of encouraging a new girl to congenial and to participateequitably in the work. One negative vote will keep the brush and comb from a newgirl. The suspension of brush-and-comb privileges is also used, upon occasion,by the first girls as a disciplinary measure, within the coffle. Otherdisciplinary measures practiced among girls themselves involve such things asbonds, the control of rations and switchings. Girls, thus, under the control offirst girls, reporting to the masters, commonly keep a good order amongthemselves. All, of course, including the first girls, are in all thingssubject, ultimately, to the total authority of the master.
"Ginger!" I called.
Ginger, in a moment, came running to the stream.
"Bring the comb and brush," I told her.
"Yes, Master," she said. Her authority, as that of any slave, could be overruledby any free person.
In a few moments Ginger returned with the comb and brush. "Give her the comb," Isaid. I, myself, took the brush, which I placed beside me. Ginger waded into thestream and gave the comb to the new girl. "You do not yet have generalcomb-and-brush privileges," she informed her. "Unless, of course, the mastersorder it," she added.
"Yes, Mistress," said the new girl, bowing her head to her.
Ginger returned to the bank and, somewhat mollified, turned to regard the newgirl, who was now combing her hair with the comb of kailiauk horn.
"She is rather pretty," said Ginger.
"I think so," I said. She was slim, and beautifully shaped.
"She might be worth four hides," said Ginger.
"Perhaps," I said. Ginger then took her leave.
I regarded the girl. She was looking at me, slowly combing her hair.
"Thank you for permitting me the use of the comb and, perhaps later, the brush," she said.
"It is my pleasure," I informed her, truthfully.
I regarded her. She was quite beautiful, and her beauty was a thousand timesmore exciting than that of a free woman, for she was a slave.
"Master examines me with candor," she said, shyly.
"You are a slave," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said. One might, in the case of a free woman, in deference toher modesty or dignity, avert one's gaze from her beauty. This consideration, ofcourse, is seldom, if ever, accorded to a slave. One may examine her slowly andwith care, and with attention to detail, and, if one feels she deserves it, withopen and unconcealed admiration. It is not unusual for a Gorean male, who tendsto be uninhibited in such matters, to clap his hands, or strike his thigh, orshout with pleasure, upon seeing a bared slave. These responses, which might bethought embarrassing or inappropriate in the case of a free woman, may fittinglybe accorded, of course, to slaves, who are only lovely animals. Even in the caseof free women, the Gorean male, incidentally, disdains to feign disinterest infemale beauty. He, for better or for worse, has not been made a victim of theglandular suppression and life-shortening psychosexual reductionism inflicted,in varying degrees, on so many males in more pathological cultures. Hiscivilization has not been purchased at the price of his manhood. His culture hasnot been designed to deny nature, but, startlingly perhaps, to some minds, tofulfill it.
She continued to comb her hair. She turned her head to the side, slowly drawingthe comb through it. "Do I detect," she asked, "that Master may not find a slavefully displeasing?"
"No," I said. "I do not find you fully displeasing."
"A slave is pleased," she said.
I smiled.
"Do you think I might be worth four hides?" she asked.
"Whether you are or not might easily be determined," I said.
"Of course, Master," she laughed. "I am a slave."
"You now look quite different from what you did when you were purchased," I toldher.
"It is difficult to remain fresh and presentable," she said, "when run throughbrush at the side of a kaiila, a thong on one's throat."
I nodded.
"I trust," she said, "that I shall not be so served in this camp."
"You, and the others," I said, "will be treated precisely as we please, in allthings."
"Yes, Master," she said, quickly. She stopped combing her hair.
"Continue to groom yourself, Slave," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"What was your name among the Dust Legs?" I asked.
"Wasnapohdi," she said.
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"Pimples," she said.
"You do not have any pimples," I said.
"Master may have noticed that my thighs are not marked," she said.
"Yes," I said.
"I am not one of those girls from the towns, who has been branded," she said.