“Interesting, said Herjellsen.
“A most obvious example,” said William, “occurs when the woman must take the automobile, in need of repair, to a mechanic. Though her socio-economic status may be far above his she must, in her ignorance, her helplessness, approach the mechanic with typical female submission behavior. Moreover, he will exploit this situation, by being patient, by looming over her, by listening to her attempt to explain the problem of the engine. Very few individuals, incidentally, can speak clearly of a complicated piece of machinery, or even know more than a few names for parts. Yet the mechanic’s attitude will make her feel inferior, ignorant, stupid, and he, by contrast, large and wise, efficient and strong. Soon she will be laughing at herself, and pretending she knows even less than she does. She finds herself forced into acting like a fool, petitioning for a favor. She smiles, she laughs uneasily, she moves her body, she is embarrassed, she blushes, she looks up at him. He agrees to repair the vehicle. He will find out what is wrong, and whatever it is he, the noble fellow, will fix it. She leaves. He has had a sexual experience. Similar exploitative matrices may exist in the context of the female student and male teacher, or the female employee and the male employer. Females are forced, in thousands of ways, to be pleasing to men, and, as they struggle to smile, and be pleasing, he symbolically enjoys her, has her, accepts her, for the time, as one of his women.”
“What do you think of this, Gunther?” asked Herjellsen.
“I think it is true,” said Gunther. “Further, perhaps to your surprise, I do not disapprove. Rather I approve. Women should smile, should be forced to engage in submission behavior before men.”
“Why is that?” asked Herjellsen.
“Because men are dominant,” said Gunther. “And it is right that women should submit to them.” He looked at Herjellsen. “Women do not smile and move provocatively because society forces them to do so; they do so because they are women; they are not the dominant sex. Display behavior, and submission behavior, is always displayed, throughout the animal kingdom, before the dominant organisms. It is natural for the dominant organism to elicit, or enforce, this behavior. Your mechanic, he in William’s anecdote, is dominant. It is thus natural for him to elicit, or enforce, display behavior, submission behavior, in your upper-middle-class woman. She is, after all, whatever might be her socio-economic class, only a female.”
“I’m afraid you are a male chauvinist, old man,” said William.
“As a scientist,” said Gunther, “I attempt to ascertain the truth. I do not respond like a slavering dog to political stimuli.”
“When I spoke of helplessness,” said Herjellsen, “I did not have in mind such things as being unable to locate one’s car keys.”
The three men looked at Hamilton. She had her head down. She knelt the short white dress well up her thighs. Her ankles, each snugly, were confined in the short, chain shackle. Her wrists, behind her back, were locked in Gunther’s cuffs.
Brenda,” asked Herjellsen. “Are you helpless?”
“Yes,” said Brenda. She lifted her head, and looked at them red-eyed. “How could I be more helpless?” she asked.
“If you were nude,” said Gunther.
She put down her head.
“She is powerless, and at your mercy,” said Herjellsen. “You are young males. Does that enhance her sexual attractiveness?”
“Yes,” said Gunther.
“Yes,” said William.
“It is natural,” said Gunther, “for a man to want complete power, absolute power, over a woman.”
“This has to do, perhaps,” said William, “with the aggression-submission equation. For the male, maximum power facilitates total aggression; for the female, utter powerlessness gives her no alternative to complete submission.”
“More important than such trivialities as handcuffs and ankle chains,” said Gunther, “is to force the female’s psychological submission.”
“Of course,” said Herjellsen, “we are creatures with minds.”
“The best lay that I ever had,” said Gunther, “was a girl given to me for the night by a friend; four years ago, a Bedouin chieftain.”
“What was she like?” asked William.
“Juicy, cuddly,” he said, “brown, quick, large dark eyes, long black hair. When I pulled away her silk I saw that he had had her branded.”
“Oh,” gasped Hamilton.
“She was a slave girl,” said Gunther, looking at her.
Hamilton averted her eyes. “Oh,” she whispered.
“Yes,” said Gunther, “a superb female slave-simply superb. When she entered the tent we both knew that she was in my absolute power. The psychological dimension was perfect. She stood there, waiting to be commanded. I could do with her what I pleased, and whatever it was that I pleased that is what I did with her. It was a most interesting evening.”
“What did you do with her?” asked William.
“I could do with her what I pleased,” said Gunther.
“And what did you do with her?” asked William.
“Exactly what I pleased,” said Gunther.
“I see,” said William.
“It was a most interesting evening,” said Gunther.
Hamilton did not look up. She wished she had been that female slave.
“This seems practical,” said Herjellsen, “only where there is an institution of female slavery, socially accepted, societally enforced.”
“It is practical,” said Gunther, “wherever men are willing to make slaves, and have the opportunity.”
Hamilton wished that she were Gunther’s slave.
“For example,” said Gunther, “this compound is isolated.” He gestured to Hamilton. “We could, if we wished, make her a slave.”
Hamilton looked at him. She was frightened.
“Do not be afraid, Doctor Hamilton,” said Herjellsen, “it is not we who will make you a slave.”
“I don’t understand,” she whispered.
Herjellsen rose to his feet. “It is late,” he said. He nodded curtly to Brenda Hamilton, kneeling before him. “Good evening, my dear,” he said.
Then he, followed by William, left the room.
“Stand,” snapped Gunther, “back to me.”
Brenda Hamilton, shackled, looked up at him. “Please help me, Gunther,” she said.
He placed his strong hands beneath her arms and lifted her lightly to her feet.
She stood close to him, shackled, wrists fastened behind her. She looked at him. “Please, Gunther,” she said. She lifted her lips to him.
“Turn,” he said.
She did so, and he, with his key, unlocked the handcuffs, and removed them from her wrists.
“Use the wastes bucket,” he said. “I will return in five minutes.”
“Yes, Gunther,” she said, head down, blushing.
In five minutes he returned. She was sitting on the cot. He looked at her. Quickly, she knelt.
“Lie on your stomach on the cot,” he said, “and place your left wrist under the iron bar.”
She did so, and he approached her. She felt one cuff locked on her left wrist, and then the other she heard snapped about the iron bar at the head of the cot.
He then bent to her ankles.
He removed the chain that confined them.
She rolled to her back, suddenly, sliding the handcuff along the iron bar, twisting the links, and faced Gunther.