There are several familiar versions of this. In one the slave crosses her wrists before her body and must retain the position until freed by "the Master's will." In another she kneels, her head down, and clasps her hands behind her back. If she is right-handed, she clasps her right wrist with her left hand. If she is left-handed, she clasps her left wrist with her right hand. Another common version of this sort of "binding"

is to put the slave on her belly and have her cross her wrists and her ankles. It is thus as though she were bound hand and foot. She remains this way, as in all these cases, perhaps for hours, until she is freed "by the Master's will." A very unpleasant application of this technique is to put a slave in the sun and spread-eagle her "by the Master's will." One then smears her face, and body, and hair, with honey and leaves her there, her presence being soon noted by a large variety of unpleasant insects. This is of course, a punishment. After such a bout with thousands of tiny, swarming, crawling visitors, sometimes almost obscuring her, the slave is much improved. The more merciful master, of course, literally stakes the slave out, binding her wrists and ankles widely apart, to the four stakes, before applying the honey. In either case, the girl will be much improved. Even the threat of this sort of punishment, it might be noted, is likely to be effective. And this saves a good deal of unpleasantness all around, and some honey, as well. To be sure, for the threat to be effective, the girl must understand quite clearly, and will understand quite clearly, that the threat is not an idle one. If she entertains any doubts on that score, the master will see to it that they are soon satisfied.

It was workers, not guards, I noted, who prowled the lines, whip in hand. It seemed those of this city, in these remote, isolated precincts, did not fear the theft of these curvaceous prizes.

How secure they think themselves, I thought.

The lines would be marched through the city to the pens. I doubted that they would be far. I supposed the captives in their march must endure scrutiny from men, and abuse from free women. Too, children can be very cruel, running out with switches, pelting them with pebbles, and such. This is not prevented for these captives are, in a sense, women of the enemy, and, in any event, will soon become mere slaves.

I looked about the docking area, now empty.

I had never seen the face of the fellow who had stood behind me in the crowd, and who had grasped me by the arms, from behind, after I had tricked the free woman. In the crowd he had been behind me; I had feared to look upon him directly, for he was a free man; later, near the line, again behind me, he had ordered me to keep my eyes closed; then later he had bundled his cloak about my head; then I had later again been ordered to keep my eyes closed, until he had withdrawn. I reddened, looking back to where he had hoisted me upon him, and then, later, put me down to the stones, the cloak wrapped about my head. Yes, I had been well punished. I had been put to his purposes under the very eyes of the free woman. Worse, he had not chosen to be merciful with me. He had made me display myself before her as the helpless slave I could be made to be.

Yes, he had made me kick and squeak before her! To what a sweet spectacle she had been treated!

But did she also, I wondered, look on in awe and fear, watching me not only kick and squeak, but moan, and wriggle, and writhe, and clutch at him, a spasmodic thrall, a mastered slave, considering that, in some other time and place, it might be she herself who would find herself so responding, so gasping, so eager, so pleading, so helpless, so mastered, in the arms of a man? I had been well used. And tonight I must confess what I had done in the matter of the free woman to the pit master, how I had tricked her, how I had obtained information which my superiors, for whatever reason, had not seen fit to vouchsafe to me. I shuddered. But I had no rational alternative. The failure to confess might mean far worse punishment, perhaps even my death. I would throw myself on my belly before him, kissing his feet, a terrified, contrite slave, begging for mercy. I looked about. The fellow who had put me to his purposes, in whose arms I had been little more than a spasmodic doll, leaping to his touch, could recognize me. I could not, of course, recognize him. This gave him much the advantage over me. I might look into the eyes of many a man, I thought, and not know if he were the one or not. I might look into the eyes of many a man, I thought, wondering if he were the one in whose arms I had leaped so obediently, in whose arms I had been so had. I then quickly hurried back over the bridge to the terrace, to fetch the Lady Constanzia.

I clutched the second apricot. I would give it to the Lady Constanzia.

I did not doubt but what she would be deeply appreciative. Such tidbits, such things as a fresh apricot, are rare in the depths, even in the diet of a free woman. I would feed it to her by hand, little by little, as she knelt there, back-braceleted, by the wall, chained to a slave ring.

This would contribute to her disguise. Also, of course, as she was a free woman, it would please me to have her take it in this fashion.

TWENTY

Tonight the pit master had come with me to the cell of the peasant.

Sometimes I thought the prisoner might be dead. He was so still.

But then he would open his eyes.

"Greetings, Master," I would say to him, for he was a free man. Then I would attend to my duties in the cell. Later I would return to the quarters of the pit master. I had never again attempted to taunt him, as I had once.

The pit master, tonight, sat for a time, cross-legged, before the peasant. It was almost as though they were both warriors. Neither spoke.

"I am finished, Master," I whispered to the pit master, as I had concluded my duties in the cell.

He rose to his feet.

The peasant looked up at the pit master. "Is it time," he asked, "to do the planting?"

"No," said the pit master. "No."

We then left the cell.

TWENTY ONE

"I am a free woman," said the Lady Constanzia.

"Of course," I said.

We were in the Lady Constanzia's cell. She had eaten, and I was preparing to leave the cell.

She was wearing the brief, white, sliplike garment, of which she was fond. It was not unlike a slave tunic.

"But I want to be a true woman!"

"Dismiss the matter from your mind," I said.

"But what if the free woman is not the same as the true woman?" she asked.

"Obviously it is not," I said.

"I am in anguish," she said.

"Do not concern yourself with such matters," I advised her.

"I must!" she wept.

"The free woman is a political concept," I said, "with a particular political history, relevant to a particular time and place. The true woman is a biological concept, relative to a species, its nature, and the conditions germane to its fulfillment."

"I have been free," she said. "Now I want love."

"Put such thoughts from your mind," I said.

"But I am afraid of love," she wept.

"Of course," I said.

"It makes slaves of us!" she wept.

"Yes," I said.

"Janice," she said.

"Yes," I said.

"I want to be a slave!" she whispered.

"Dismiss the thought from your mind," I said.

"Today," she said, "when we were above, when he came to the ring, I spread my knees before him!"

"You must not do so!" I said. "You are a free woman!"

"Do you think not being branded, not being collared, makes me a free woman?" she asked.

I did not respond.

"Do you think not being legally embonded, in some technical sense, makes me a free woman?"

"Yes," I said.

"I love him!" she said. "I love him!"

"You do not even know him," I said.

"We have talked for days at the ring!" she said. "He cannot even look at me without my wanting to cry out for his touch!"

"It is the slave garb," I said, "the collar."

"In them I am myself!" she said.

"You are a free woman," I said.

"No!" she said.

"Yes," I said. "Hasten now, and don the robes of concealment. The guard will soon be about!"

"No!" she said.

"Very well," I said. "Then I shall not take you again to the surface."

"No, no!" she said. "Please, forgive me, Janice. I am sorry. Forgive me! I will obey! I will obey!"

Hurriedly then she put on the robes of concealment.

I then left the cell.

I locked it with special care. I was pleased the guard did not have the key, fur I feared that the cell door now was no longer closed on a free woman, but on something considerably more desirable, something considerably more tempting.

TWENTY TWO

"Master?" I asked.

The pit master, of late, had seemed much lost in thought.

Seldom now he read at the table.

Fina, too, his preferred slave, was much concerned.

She was not now present.

I did not know what produced this change in the pit master. Some days ago I had, as I had intended, confessed my trickery with the free woman. I had bellied, cowering, at his feet. But he had only crouched down beside me, and put his great hand on my head, and shaken it a little, almost affectionately. "So, now," he said, "you know you are in Treve?"

"Yes. Master," I whispered.

"Kajirae are such curious creatures," he said.

"Am I not to be beaten?" I asked.

"No," he said.

"Thank you, Master," I said. My good fortune in this matter, I suspected, might have less to do with my deserts than with the preoccupations of the pit master.

Let me speak for a moment of the pit master.

As I had come to know him better, I had come to realize he had a large, deep, unusual mind.

I am sure Fina was well aware of this, as well, and it was probably one of the reasons she was so much his slave, so to speak, though hers was a state collar, like mine. I think that we, women, although not immune to male beauty, are less seriously influenced by it than men, the brutes, by female beauty. Indeed, a pretty male face can be aversive to us. The masculinity that attracts us, and can overwhelm us, is one of intelligence, power and virility, one of ruggedness and might. We are looking, so to speak, for our harem master, although we would hope to be the only slave in his harem. We want a man at whose feet we feel it is appropriate that we should kneel, as women, and slaves. We do not want an equal; that is not enough for us; we want more than that; we want a master. We want him to be strong, ambitious, aggressive, possessive, jealous, l.u.s.tful, dangerous, dominant. We want him to guard us, and protect us, and own us, with masculine ferocity, to see us as his rightful properties.

We want to feel ourselves as though we were nothing before his wrath and power. We want to feel that it is the most important thing in the world for us that we please him. We want him to be jealous of us, and fiercely possessive of us; we want to be important to him; we do not want to be ignored or neglected; we do not want to be taken for granted, or just be "there,"

perhaps almost unnoticed, as are so many "wives" of Earth; the slave, I a.s.sure you, receives a great deal of attention, perhaps more than she sometimes cares for; she, in her service, and subject to his command and domination, is muchly noticed; one of the cruelest of punishments he can inflict upon us is to subject us to the same neglect and indifference commonly accorded to an Earth "wife"; how we strive to be pleasing to him, that that will not occur; but it seldom occurs; better the mercy of the slave lash; he must want to keep track of us, for we are his possessions; he must want to know our thoughts, our whereabouts, and our every action. He desires us; he l.u.s.ts for us; and we are his; and so he is jealous of us and inordinately possessive of us, his relished goods, his coveted prizes, his properties, his slaves; and so he keeps us on a short leash. The pit master, despite the monstrosity of his appearance, was mighty in his manhood.

We slaves were helpless in his arms. When I clutched him I must despair of the least shred of dignity. In the arms of such a man a girl is muchly aware that she is in her collar and will shortly find herself subdued, and forced to yield herself wholly, spasmodically, helplessly, whether she wishes to or not, in the most degrading and wondrously joyful of all ecstasies, those of a slave to a master.

Beyond, however, the gloriously humiliating, reductive, exultant, grateful, exalting, writhing submissions of a begging slave, Fina, I was sure, was actually enamored of him. She was not simply his obedient ecstasy s.l.u.t. She was enamored of him, and he of her. But I do not think he knew her feelings toward him. And I do not think he would have believed her, if she had found the courage to declare them. Given his misshapen bulk, its gross disproportions, and his monstrous visage he did not believe any woman could love him. One other feature of the pit master I should mention. His mind was not only large, deep, and unusual, but it was also an independent mind. He thought for himself. How few men and women of Earth, I thought, did that. Is not acquiescence superior to inquiry? Is not cowardice, rather than simple discretion, the better part of valor? Is not conformity to prescribed falsehood less perilous than the seeking of truth? In any event, with respect to the enforcement of commands, customs, and such, the pit master was selective. He was neither legalistic nor rule-bound, but, too, he was neither antinomian nor iconoclastic. He would neither agree to be the same, as most, nor disagree merely to be different, as some.

He would think for himself; he was such a man.

And so, for whatever reason-whether he had understood and been forgiving of a slave's desperate concern to discover in what city she served, whether he had been tolerant of an Earth-girl slave's naive foolishness, whether he was fond in his rough way of her, and thought he would this time excuse her indiscretion, whether he had simply seen no point in punishing me, whether he thought the whole business beneath his attention, or perhaps simply, as I suspected, because he had other things to attend to, which more concerned him-he had not beaten me. I was grateful to him. I did not think him weak. If in his view I had truly merited a lashing, then, even if he were fond of me, as I suspected, I would have received it, and so, too, would have Fina, or any of the others.

The pit master, as we have noted, had not been zealous in enforcing the edicts of the officer, he to whose compartments I had earlier been conducted, he whom I had served, he before whom I had danced, he who had several times made slave use of me, he at the side of whose couch, on the floor, on the tiles, with only a sheet to cover me, my head to its foot, I had been slept in a chain.

Certainly he had been lax in enforcing the officer's instructions in the matter of the mysterious peasant, that huge, vacant creature in the lower cells. He had not regarded such treatment as honorable. In not complying, however, I did not doubt but what he had betrayed oaths, or even codes. "What is one to do?" he had once said in the corridor. "Master?" I had asked. "It is nothing," he had said. He had then continued on.

"Have you spoken of this to the Lady Constanzia?" he asked.

"No, Master," I said.