"I think so," I said. "Presumably he is an experienced slaver."

"Do you think he had any doubts about you?" she asked.

"No," I said, reddening. "I do not think he had any doubts whatsoever about me."

"I could have been whipped," she said, wonderingly.

"Are you able to stand?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

"You should have been switched," said a male voice, to the Lady Constanzia.

We both, startled, looked up, from our knees.

The Lady Constanzia gasped. Then, swiftly, she thrust down her head.

It was the fellow in the scarlet tunic, with the scarlet cloak, whom I had originally noted in the vicinity of the bal.u.s.trade, where we had been looking upon the mountains.

"Lift your head, slave," said he to the Lady Constanzia. She did so.

She kept her head up, but, after an instant, was careful not to meet his eyes. In her first glance she had grasped, with the immediate understanding a woman has of such things, the nature of his scrutiny. She knelt very straight, frightened. She was being considered, as a female. He did not hurry. And he even walked about her. Then he was again before her. "A beautiful face," he commented to me. "Good slave curves. Excellent hair."

"Yes, Master," I said.

"You should have been switched," he said to the Lady Constanzia.

"Yes, Master," she said.

I was startled. That was the first time I had heard her use the word 'Master' to a man.

"Why weren't you?" he asked.

"I do not know, Master," she said. He looked at me.

"I do not know, Master," I said.

"You were very fortunate," he said to the Lady Constanzia.

"Yes Master," she said.

"I, myself, would not have been so lenient," he said.

"Yes, Master," she said, swallowing hard. He was such as would think nothing of beating her.

"Has she been whip-trained?" he asked me.

"No," I said.

"She must indeed be quite new to her collar," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said. He must then, I surmised, have been reasonably close, in the crowd, during the incident with the free woman.

"She nearly drank from the first basin," he said.

"Yes, Master," I admitted. He had been watching us then.

"It seems," he said, regretfully, "she is stupid."

"No Master," I said. "It is only that she has much to learn about her collar."

"She is not totally stupid?" he asked.

"No Master," I said.

"She has some intelligence then?" he asked, interested.

"Yes, Master," I said. "She is actually quite intelligent."

"Excellent," he said, pleased.

Then he looked at me, and snapped his fingers. "Collar," he said, Instantly I, trained, leaped to my feet and stood quite close to him, uncomfortably close, and held my hands a little behind my body. I lifted my chin. He crooked a finger under my collar and pulled me closer to him, holding me in place. I could feel his finger against my neck, on the left side, between the steel of the collar and the flesh. I could also feel the collar drawn tighter against the back of my neck.

"It is a state collar," he said. "Your name is 'Janice'."

"Yes, Master," I whispered.

He released me, and I knelt.

He then regarded the Lady Constanzia. He snapped his fingers and said, "Collar!"

She rose uncertainly to her feet, and approached him. She had, of course, had my example from which to profit. She, to my surprise, however, stood closer to him than I would have expected, and more close to him than I had, originally. It seemed she was improving on my example. Was she then, in such matters, to be my teacher? She lifted her chin delicately. In response to the "collar command," the slave approaches the male, that he need not inconvenience himself by coming toward her. She then lifts her chin and places her hands behind her. It is thus that a girl renders herself vulnerable for the reading of her collar. In this case, of course, the Lady Constanzia's hands were already behind her, her small, lovely wrists closely linked together, well pinioned, in the steel of slave bracelets.

Still he put his finger under her collar, and, as she gasped, he pulled her even closer to him, indeed, quite close to him, "slave close," as the expression is. She could not move back, because of his hold on her. I was alarmed. She was a free woman! I could well conjecture her dismay, her discomfort, her fear, her wild sensations-she, a free female, being held so close to him, she half stripped, he fully dressed, so powerful, so masculine!

"'Tuta'," he read. "It is a good name for you, slave."

"Thank you, Master," she whispered.

"It is not a state collar," he said to me, "but, as she is in your custody, one gathers that she must be in the keeping of the state, for some reason, perhaps pending her sale."

I was silent.

He released the Lady Constanzia' s collar. "Remain where you are," he said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Slave lips," he said to her.

She looked at him, wildly, in consternation.

"Purse your lips," I said to her. She complied, frightened.

"Close your eyes," he said to her. She did so.

She was then standing there, before him, her eyes closed, her lips pursed.

"Her lips are of interest," he said.

"Please, Master," I protested.

"I am going to taste your lips, Tuta," he said.

"Master!" I protested.

He did not immediately address himself, however, to the Lady Constanzia. Rather he stood there for a time, and let her stand there, for a time, her lips in the position he had commanded, her eyes closed, as he had ordered.

I heard a tiny clink of metal as she pulled a bit, futilely, against the bracelets which held her small hands confined behind her back.

Then, to my surprise, and dismay, I saw her lift her chin a little more, and stretch her neck a little, lifting her lips to him. How shameless! She was offering herself to him! Could the Lady Constanzia be a slave?

With a low, throaty laugh, almost a growl, he then enfolded her, she helpless, braceleted, in his arms and, indeed, tasted, and lengthily, and well, tasted the lips of the free woman, the Lady Constanzia!

After a time, perhaps even three or four Ehn, he released her, and she sank to her knees, before him.

Then she looked straight ahead. Her eyes were wide. She was clearly shaken. She began to tremble. I feared she might collapse to the stones.

He crouched down beside her, briefly.

"Oh!" she said, suddenly.

"She is not in the iron belt," he observed.

"She has not had her slave wine, Master!" I said, quickly. "Please, I beg of you! Do not! Do not!"

He stood up.

"Have no fear," said he.

"May we leave?" I begged.

"Her lips are indeed of interest," he said to me. "To be sure, she was more kissed than kissing."

"Yes, Master," I said.

"Does she know how to use them?" he asked.

"No, Master," I said. "She is a new slave."

"But she is intelligent, you said?"

"Yes, Master."

"Then she can learn how to use them?"

"Of course, Master."

"Does she know the seven basic kisses of the slave?" he asked.

"No, Master," I said.

"Not even that?"

"No, Master," I said.

Naturally the number of "basic kisses" tends to vary with the nature of the a.n.a.lysis in question, much depending on how broadly or narrowly the notion of "basic" is understood, and the criteria for distinguishing between a "basic kiss" and a major variation thereof. If I may be permitted to exaggerate a point, for purposes of clarification, one might ask, are there two basic kisses with five hundred variations of each, four basic kisses with two hundred and fifty variations of each, five with two hundred variations of each, ten with one hundred variations of each, or, as some authorities might prefer, merely one thousand basic kisses? Or are there ten thousand, and so on? All authorities agree, of course, that the varieties of possible kisses, with respect to location, pressure, liquidity, duration, timing, and such, are infinite in number. The notion of "seven basic kisses," however, is, apparently, a common one.

It deftly imposes some useful order on what might otherwise be a chaos. It is nothing against the value of a cla.s.sificatory scheme that it is not the only one possible. As a last note, I might add that there does seem to be general agreement among authorities on the importance of a given number of types of kisses, and perhaps that is more important than whether one accounts a given kiss A to be a variation of B, or B to be a variation of A, and so on. There are apparently, incidentally, on this world, a number of manuals devoted to slave training. In most of these, as I understand it, seven is indeed given as the number of the "basic kisses." For what it is worth, that is the number which was impressed on me in the pens. I had had seven basic lessons on the matter, with variations taught within the lessons. There were also frequent review lessons later on.

One does not, of course, forget such things. To be sure, much depends, as we were always being told, on the individual master. It is his will which, to us, is all. In our practices we were sometimes blindfolded.

I presume there were several reasons for that, for example, that we might learn how to concentrate on the tactual sensations involved, that we might be able to kiss well in the dark and, when we were using male slaves to practice on, that we should not become involved with them personally. When one kisses a man as a slave it is hard not to feel oneself as slave to him. I do not think the male slaves objected to being used in our training. Some who began by crying out in rage, perhaps new slaves, ended up moaning with pleasure. They, too, were generally blindfolded, except when we must kiss them upon their closed eyes. Later, as our skills improved, the guards permitted us, sans blindfolds, to practice upon them. And they were harsh taskmasters, I tell you! Diligently must we strive to please them! But we preferred their seventies to the helplessness of the slaves for we knew that they were such as to whom we belonged, free men. Sometimes we felt the switch when we did not do well. I so wanted to kiss he whose whip I had first kissed, but he would never permit it. I wanted to kiss him as he had never been kissed before, but he would not permit it. How he scorned me! And perhaps rightly, for I was naught but a slave! After we had kissed the guards we were much aroused.

Shamelessly, later, throbbing with need, we would beg their attentions from our kennels.

Sometimes they were kind to us and sometimes they were not.

"She is quite ignorant then," said the fellow.

"Yes, Master," I said.

The Lady Constanzia, I am sure, did not appreciate my concurrence in this matter, but he was a free man, and I a slave, and his conjecture was, after all, obviously true.

"A pity," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said.

"Do you come often to this terrace?" he asked.

"We have not, in the past," I said.

"Will you in the future?" he asked.

"I do not know if we will be permitted abroad," I said.

"And if you are?" he asked.

"Perhaps then, Master," I said. I had wanted to come to this terrace for a particular reason.