“It is fortunate it is not raining,” she said. “It seems the ceiling leaks.”
“Perhaps it has been repaired,” he said.
“It is a very high ceiling,” she said.
“This is a summer world,” said Tuvo Ausonius. “The rooms are often so constructed, that they may be cooler, the warmer air rising upward.”
“Of course,” she said, blinking, looking down.
“You do not seem pleased with the room,” he said.
“It was not what I expected,” she said, lightly.
Yes, she sensed her power.
He could change that, quickly enough.
“I think it will do very nicely,” he said.
This remark seemed to alarm her somewhat. Certainly it would remind her that she was here, and as he wished.
Yes, it will do very nicely, for what I have in mind, he thought.
“What do you think of the table?” he asked, pointing to it.
She regarded its worn, darkly varnished surface. “You are not going to put me on it, are you?” she asked, uneasily.
Now she was surely less certain of her power.
“Certainly not,” he said, as though he found the very thought distasteful.
Still it was surely a charming thought, pleasing himself with her on such a surface.
He almost regretted that he was a same.
Now she was again surer of her power.
He noted this with satisfaction.
“You did not bring anything to eat or drink,” she said.
“Do not concern yourself with such matters,” he said.
She looked at the bed. “Do you want me to get in bed?” she asked.
“No,” he said.
“‘No’?” she asked.
“No,” he said.
“I do not understand,” she said. “What am I to do?”
“Go to the foot of the bed, and stand there, and await further instructions,” he said.
“There is a ring here, in the floor,” she said.
Tuvo Ausonius went to the heavy, dark dresser against one wall and, with a sound of sliding wood, opened the top drawer. He reached within the drawer. There was a sound of heavy links of chain, moving on the wood. He drew out a sturdy, common “Y” chain, of some two feet in length, with its three rings at its terminations, each now open.
He placed the “Y” chain on the foot of the bed. He also picked up the throw rug and then placed it on the floor, at the foot of the bed, near the ring.
She looked down at it. In this way, he conjectured, she might be more comfortable.
“You will now,” he said, “remove your clothing, completely, even your necklaces, your bracelets, and such.”
“Very well,” she said.
“Why have you turned your back to me?” she asked.
He did not respond to her.
How could she ask such a foolish question? How could he look upon her? How could he dare to look upon her? Why would he even care to look upon her? Did she not know he was above such things, that he was a same?
She put her hands to the back of her neck, to remove her necklaces. She smiled to herself. She enjoyed removing her garments. She wished to strip herself, and bare her beauty, to reveal it in all its marvelous loveliness to a male, that it might find in that its meaning and birthright, and, too, that she might, to her joy, understand something of how precious she was to men, what a treasure she was to them, what a wondrously perfect and desirable creature she was. She knew that men fought and killed for women such as she. She knew that they sought women such as she, and, ruthlessly, in markets, bought and sold them.
She laid the necklaces on the foot of the bed.
“No one knows I am here,” she said.
She thought he might wish reassurance on this matter.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said.
“Oh,” she said.
She slipped the armlet from her upper left arm and put it on the bed. Then she removed the bracelets, and placed them there, as well, with the armlet and necklaces, Tuvo Ausonius, his back turned, heard the bracelets, moving against one another, being placed on the bed. She reached behind her back, to the closures on the halter.
“You are not looking at me,” she said.
“No,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
She placed the halter on the bed.
She reached to the narrow, black, cloth cord, now low on her hips, that sustaining the skirtlike sheets of scarlet silk. As it now was on her, so low, so provocative, so exciting, so responsive to her slightest movements, she might even have been a dancer, or tavern slave.
She hesitated.
She turned about, so that her back would be to him, if he should turn, if he should suddenly wish to see her.
Let her beauty be to him as a revelation.
She untied the cloth cord and gathered together the two sheets of flowing, sheer silk.
These things she then put behind her on the bed.
“I am naked,” she whispered.
“What?” he asked.
“I am naked,” she said.
“Absolutely?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“Kneel down, on the rug, at the foot of the bed,” he said.
“I have done so,” she said.
“Can you reach the chain on the foot of the bed?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“It is a “Y” chain,” he said. “It has three terminations, each with a ring, now opened. Before you, fixed in the floor, you see a large, heavy ring. Chain yourself to it. This will be done in the following manner. The ring at the bottom of the “Y” is to be closed, and locked, about it. The two rings at the terminations of the arms of the “Y” are to be closed, and locked, about your wrists, snugly. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she said.
Tuvo Ausonius listened carefully.
He heard three clicks, first, one click, and then, a little later, one after the other, two more clicks.
“Are you chained helplessly?” he asked.
He heard her pull against the chains. Did he detect some fear in her movements?
“Yes,” she said.
He did not doubt but what this was true, as she would doubtless expect him to check the closures on the three rings, satisfying himself that they were all locked, and that the wrist rings were suitably snug, even tight, upon her wrists.
“May I speak?” she asked.
It interested him that she would request permission to speak. But he supposed that when a woman finds herself as she was, that she might naturally be apprehensive, as to whether or not she may speak. What if it were not desired, at such a time, to hear her speak?
“Certainly,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“I have wondered-” she said.
“Yes?” he said.
“Earlier you suggested that my perfume might be more obvious,” she said.
“It is quite acceptable,” he said. “And it will do very nicely.”
“I wondered what you meant,” she said.
“Only that another perfume might have been even more appropriate for you.”
“I do not understand,” she said.
“That of whore, or slave,” he said.
“Oh,” she said. But her response did not seem angered, or protestive.
“I wonder what it might be like to wear such perfumes,” she said.
“Perhaps you will one day learn,” he said.
“Do not jest,” she said.
Tuvo Ausonius was silent.
“But how such things must excite and arouse a woman,” she said. “How helpless they must make her!”
“I am sure that your perfume might count as such,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
She made a tiny, helpless noise. There was a tiny rustle of chain.
“You are not going to do these things to me, and then still report me to the line, are you?” she asked, frightened.
“Of course not,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“Thank you,” she said.
Besides, thought Tuvo Ausonius, that would not be at all necessary, not now.