“Yes,” he said. He removed the chain from her ankles. He stood up.
“What-what if the experiment does not go well?”
He looked at her.
“What if it doesn’t work-if Herjellsen is not successful?”
“You mean if he cannot transmit you?” asked Gunther.
“Yes,” she said, “-if I cannot be transmitted.”
“Surely you understand,” said Gunther, “that you cannot be released.”
She turned, wrist back, lying on her side. She looked at him, fearfully. She, dragging the handcuff along the iron bar, sat up on the edge of the cot, her body twisted, turned to face him.
“You know too much,” said Gunther. “You could put us in prison for years.” He regarded her. “If the experiment is unsuccessful, if you cannot be transmitted, you will be disposed of in the bush.”
“I do not want to die,” she said, “Gunther.” She sat on the edge of the cot. She shook her head. “You would not kill me, would you, Gunther?” she asked.-
“Yes,” said Gunther.
She put her right leg on the cot, beneath her; her left leg was not on the cot; the toes only of her left leg touched the floor; her left leg was flexed; her body faced Gunther; her left wrist was back, handcuffed to the iron bar at the head of the cot.
She shook her head. “Don’t kill me,” she said.
He regarded her, unmoved.
“Sell me,” she whispered.
He did not speak.
“I am a Caucasian,”, she said. “William says that I am beautiful.”
Gunther said nothing.
“Surely you could get a good price on me,” she said.
“Do you know what you are speaking of?” asked Gunther.
“There are markets, are there not, secret markets, where white women are sold?”
Gunther looked at her. He did not speak for a long time. Then he spoke. “Yes,” he said.
Hamilton looked at him, agonized, pleading.
“I have been in two such markets,” said Gunther.
“You?” she said.
“I am trusted,” he said.
“Don’t kill me,” said Hamilton. “-Sell me.”
Gunther smiled. “What do you think your body is worth?” he asked.
“I-I don’t know,” she said.
“It might be interesting to see you on the block,” he said.
Her lower lip trembled.
“Can you smile?” he asked. “Can you pose? Can you excite the interest of buyers? Can you move your body in such a way that it suggests that it could be a source of incredible pleasure for a man?”
She looked at him with horror.
“If you do not perform well,” said Gunther, “you will be whipped.”
Hamilton said nothing.
“There are difficulties in transportation,” said Gunther. “You would have to be smuggled across borders in a truck, perhaps at a given point carried northward in a dhow.”
“Drug me,” said Hamilton. “I do not care if I do not awake until I am dragged naked before the buyers.”
He looked at her, carefully. “It could be done with you, I suppose,” he said.
“Yes, Gunther,” she said, “yes!”
“It would be simpler,” said he, “to dispose of you in the bush.”
“No, please, no,” she wept. “Sell me! Sell me!”
“Perhaps,” said Gunther, “perhaps.” He looked at her. “I shall take it under consideration,” he said.
He went to the door.
“Gunther,” she said.
He turned.
“What is done to such women?” she asked. “Where are they kept?”
He shrugged. “In isolated villas,” he said, “in desert palaces, in luxurious slave brothels, catering to a rich clientele.”
“I see,” she said. Then she said, “Gunther, you have denied me sexual experience. I gather that if I were a slave, I would be granted such experiences.”
Gunther threw back his head and laughed. “Yes,” he said, “your master, or masters, and their guests, or clients, would see that you served them well.”
She put down her head, blushing furiously.
“Even superbly,” he added, smiling.
She clenched her small fists.
“You said,” said Gunther, “that you were my whore.”
“I am,” she said, “Gunther.” She looked at him. “Any time you want me, I’m your whore.”
“A slave girl,” he said, “is the whore of any man who buys her.”
“I know,” she whispered.
He laughed. “Any man,” he said.
“I know,” she whispered.
“You know nothing,” he said.
She looked at him, puzzled.
“A whore,” he said, “is a thousand times above a slave.”
“No!” she cried.
“Yes,” he laughed.
“Is it true, Gunther?” she begged.
“Men care more for their dogs, than for their female slaves,” said Gunther.
“No,” she whispered.
“It is true,” said Gunther. “I know.” He looked at her. “Would you not prefer to be disposed of in the bush?”
“No, Gunther,” she said. “Sell me.”
“Then,” asked Gunther, looking at her evenly, “you are truly willing to be a female slave?”
“Yes, Gunther,” she whispered.
He regarded her, half kneeling, half sitting on the cot, in the brief white dress, facing him, on the striped mattress, her hand back, handcuffed to the iron bar at the head of the cot.
“I always thought you were a slave,” he said.
She looked at him, angrily.
“Slave,” he sneered.
“Yes-slave!” she said.
He left.
8
“I see that you are still a virgin,” said William.
Hamilton was silent.
She stood before the two men, under the light bulb, barefoot on the floor of her cell, the cot and mattress in the background, stripped, freed of the shackles, wrists cuffed behind her back.
“Is your examination finished?” she asked.
“I would have thought that Gunther would have used you by now,” said William.
“She is for others to use,” said Gunther.
Hamilton’s physical examination had been thorough, including blood and urine samples taken earlier in the day.
William’s black bag lay beside his cane chair.
When they had entered the room together this evening, she had been startled. William was a physician. Gunther was not.
She had not wished to strip herself before Gunther, not in the presence of another man.
“Remove your clothing,” had said William.
“No,” had said Hamilton.
“Are you being insubordinate?” had asked William.
“No,” she had whispered.
Gunther’s eyes had met hers. He had snapped his fingers.
Clumsily, quickly, she had pulled the cotton shift over her head.
“Turn about,” he had said.
He had put her wrists in handcuffs, thrown her to the cot, removed the shackles from her.
“Stand,” he had said.
She did so.
“Come here, dear,” had said William, opening his kit, removing a stethoscope.
“Must Gunther be present?” she bad begged.
“Is a slave modest?” asked Gunther.
“No!” she said, angrily.
She had approached William. The examination had begun.
William now snapped shut his kit, but left it on the floor. He, sitting, Gunther, too, to one side, regarded her.
“Is the examination finished,” she asked.
“Come closer,” said William.
She did so.
He looked up at her. She looked away.
“Do you find that you desire sexual experience?” asked William.
“No,” she said.
“It does not matter,” said William. “That you yourself are found sexually desirable will be more than sufficient.”
Hamilton looked at him with horror.
“We shall now conduct a small experiment,” said William. He placed his hand, gently, cupped, between her legs. He lifted his hand, pressing it gently against her delta.