Otto looked away from her, angrily. Her legs were superb.
She then knelt at the foot of the couch.
“You may leave,” said Otto, not looking at her.
“Master Julian,” she said, “has desired that I inquire after your wants.”
“You have now done so,” he said. “You may now leave.”
“It is late,” she said. “At this hour I might be severely punished if found in the halls.”
At this hour it would be normal for a slave to be secured, perhaps in the master’s room, perhaps in the slave quarters, in a cell, or kennel, such things.
“You came here upon command,” he said.
“But a guard may seize me and beat me,” she said.
“Inform him that you are here on the orders of the master of the house,” said Otto.
“Master Julian will not wish to be disturbed now,” she said.
“Then be whipped,” said Otto, angrily.
“At the least,” she said, “I would spend the night in close chains.”
“I will bind your hands behind your back,” said Otto, “and then it will be understood that you are in proper custody.”
“I was being kept in a cell,” she said. “But now it has been taken from me.”
“You now have a kennel?” asked Otto.
“Yes,” she said.
“Is it clean and dry?” he asked.
“I must keep it that way,” she said.
“How large is it?” he asked.
“It is larger than the cage you keep me in on Varna,” she said.
“You look well in a cage,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
She looked about.
“It seems Master has not slept,” she said.
Otto growled with rage.
“Master?” she asked, innocently.
“May I pour the wine, Master?” she asked.
“I would have a woman,” said Otto suddenly, fiercely.
She rose to her feet, unbidden, to pour the wine. Otto looked to the slave whip, on its hook, on the wall, but he did not advance toward it, and remove it from its hook.
She poured the wine. “The girls are now in service,” she said, “or kenneled for the night. I suppose one might be brought up, from the kennels.”
She replaced the decanter on the tray. “I am a woman,” she said.
Otto cried out with rage.
She took the goblet and knelt before him, kissing it and then lifting it to him.
“I have been sent,” she said, “to inquire after your wants.”
“My wants,” said Otto, in rage, “are well satisfied.”
“What of mine?” she cried, suddenly, tears brimming in her eyes. “What of my wants?”
“They are nothing,” said Otto. “They are only those of a female slave.”
He turned away from her.
“Do not treat us with such cruelty!” she cried.
“‘Us’?” he said.
“Slaves,” she wept. “You do not know what it is to be a woman, and a slave. You do not know what it is to be in bondage, to be property, to be owned. You do not understand how this at once makes us so vulnerable, so helpless, and yet so free and needful. Do you think we do not know the meaning of our brands, of the collars on our necks? Do you think we do not understand how it is that we are garbed as we are, and what this means? Can you not understand how such things touch us in our deepest belly, how they liberate, and inflame, our sexuality? Have you not heard how desperate we are to obey, to love and to serve, to be the most complete and perfect of women, to be mastered, and in being mastered, in our own conquest, to become most ourselves, and secure our greatest fulfillment, our greatest exultation and ecstasy? Can you not understand how we long to return to the very wellsprings of our being, to the world in which we were bred, a world of flint, of hammers and thongs? Have you not heard how slave girls, in their kennels, weep and scratch, and moan, and cry out for the touch of a man? Do you think any other woman can know the heats of one who is a slave? Can you understand what it is to be subject to sale, to know that one must please, to fear the whip, to know that one is owned? I have screamed with need, for the touch of my master, and he does not even look upon me!”
Otto turned to regard her.
“I beg kindness,” she said.
“You are worthless,” he said. “A thousand things have shown me this.”
“Even the lowliest, and most worthless of slaves,” she said, “may beg her master for his touch.”
“And you do so?” said Otto.
“Yes, Master,” she said. “Yes, Master!”
Otto took the wine from her.
He put it on the tray.
“Strange remarks,” he said, “for one who was formerly an officer of a court on Terennia.”
“That was long ago, Master,” she said. She put her fingers to her collar. She lifted it, just a little, on her neck. “See, Master,” she said, “I am now only your slave.”
“It is true,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
He looked down upon the distraught beauty.
“Do not send me away, Master,” she said.
“Is this behavior seemly in one who was once an officer of a court on Terennia?” he asked.
“Surely,” she said, “if she who was an officer of a court on Terennia was even then a slave, deceitfully concealing the fact, which deceit she is now no longer permitted to practice, for her slavery has now been confirmed upon her, publicly, for all to see, legally, for all to know.”
“Are you not ashamed?” he asked.
“No, Master, for slaves are not permitted shame.”
“It is obvious that you are no longer a free woman,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“You would love, and serve and obey?”
“With my whole heart, and all that I am, and might be,” she said.
“Surely you lie,” he said.
“No!” she wept. “Cannot you see the transformation which has taken place in me, that I am now collared, am now a helpless slave, that I am owned, and you are my master, and that I love you!”
“Lying slut,” he snarled.
“Then hate me,” she wept. “Abuse me! Tie me to a ring and whip me, if you wish! But do not neglect me! That is the most cruel of all!”
“Do you not find me attractive, even a little?” she asked.
He cried out with rage.
“Master?” she asked, frightened.
“Yes,” he cried. “I find you attractive, slave slut! If I did not know you, do you think I would not ride a thousand leagues to capture you, to put a rope on you and run you beside my stirrup? Do you think I would not, having merely glimpsed you in a public place, have followed you, and scouted your residence, and entered it, and stolen you? Do you think I could have rested before you were safe at my feet, on my chain? Do you think I would not break walls, subdue cities, and fight armies to own you?”
“To own me!” she cried.
“Yes,” he said, angrily.
“Master!” she cried, delighted.
“But I do know you!” he cried. “I know how meaningless, and petty, and treacherous, and worthless you are!”
“Then treat me as your enemy,” she said, “and subdue me! Teach me my defeat!”
“Bitch,” he said.
“You are a barbarian,” she said. “Do you think I do not know how you view women of the empire? As booty, worth only a pittance as slaves!”
“How can you know this?” he said.
“Do you think that slaves do not know who are their rightful masters, and that they do not long for them?”
He glared at her, savagely.
“I am yours,” she said. “Put me mercilessly to your pleasure. I beg it!”
He turned away, his fists clenched.
“I have been trained to please,” she said. “I am sure you will find me suitable. My tongue has been educated. I have been taught the use of my hair. I can cater to the most refined taste, or to the most savage taste!”