her. "I am typical," she said. I looked down at her. "What are you thinking?" she asked. "I was thinking," I said, regarding the girl, "that the men of Earth, if they could but see an Earth woman as you are now, would scream with pleasure."
"We are waiting for our masters," she smiled.
I listened to the musicians outside of the alcove, the sounds of the tavern. When one brings a girl to an alcove one may keep her there for most practical purposes as long as one wishes. She is yours, for most practical purposes, until one chooses to re-open the curtains. After the tavern is closed an attendant will let you out and, taking charge of the girl, see that she is properly chained at her ring by the girl-wall or kenneled.
"Do you now think it is so terrible a thing to fulfill the needs of a slave?" she asked.
"No," I said.
"And if one is a natural slave," she said, "surely it is acceptable for her to seek, even desperately, the fulfillment of her deepest needs."
"Yes," I said.
"And surely," she said, "it is permissible for the master, though he is under no obligation, to do so, for she is only a slave, to deign, in his kindness, if it be his whim or pleasure, to fulfill the needs of the slave."
"It is totally up to him," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said. "She is only a slave."
"That you are a natural slave, Alison," I said, "does not prove that the women of Earth are natural slaves."
"My entire chain, in training," she said, "learned that we were."
"It proves nothing," I said.
"Do you think we were all so rare and different?" she asked.
I shrugged. "I do not know," I said.
"We were not," she said.
"Perhaps, perhaps not," I said.
She smiled.
"How long have you known you were a slave?" l asked.
"Since I was a young girl," she said. "I first discovered it in my thoughts and dreams, and feelings, and fantasies. But I thought I could never be more than a secret slave at the mercy of a secret master. Then I was brought to Gor. Here I wear my collar openly and kneel before my masters for all the world to see."
"It is true," I said.
"Do you object that I have slave needs, Master?" she asked.
"I do not object that you, personally, have slave needs," I said. "Indeed, I rejoice that you have slave needs for they make you a perfection and a dream of pleasure."
"But you would not want all women to be like me?" she asked.
"No," I said.
"But what if they were?" she asked.
I looked at her, angrily.
"Or is it only one woman you would not want to be like me?" she asked.
"No!" I said.
"But what if she is?" asked the girl.
I closed my eyes. The thought of Miss Beverly Henderson as a female slave was almost overpoweringly erotic. With difficulty I controlled myself. I thrust the thought from my mind. I must not even permit myself to think such things.
I opened my eyes.
"Do not deny her nature to her," said the girl.
"Kneel to the whip!" I cried. Terrified the girl scrambled to her knees and knelt down, making herself small, her head to the furs. Her wrists were crossed under her, as though bound. She trembled. I now stood over her, the slave whip in my hand. I drew it back, then I threw it aside, angrily. I crouched down. Then I jerked her head up, by the hair. "Permission to placate," she begged, reaching for me with her lips and mouth. But I held her, by the hair, from me. She whimpered, denied. Then I released her hair and permitted her to touch me.
"Thank you, Master," she whispered.
She was a slave. I would permit her to attempt to placate me, in one of the ancient fashions of the female slave.
"I must soon be on my way," I said.
"Master searches for a slave, does he not?" she asked.
"Perhaps," I said.
"Do not ever let her forget that she is a slave," said the girl.
"I must be on my way," I said.
"Have me, but once again," she begged.
I did so, and then, later. I rose to my feet. I unbuckled the leather curtains and threw them back. The tavern was now empty and closed. I turned about and again regarded the
"We are waiting for our masters," she smiled.
I listened to the musicians outside of the alcove, the sounds of the tavern. When one brings a girl to an alcove one may keep her there for most practical purposes as long as one wishes. She is yours, for most practical purposes, until one chooses to re-open the curtains. After the tavern is closed an attendant will let you out and, taking charge of the girl, see that she is properly chained at her ring by the girl-wall or kenneled.
"Do you now think it is so terrible a thing to fulfill the needs of a slave?" she asked.
"No," I said.
"And if one is a natural slave," she said, "surely it is acceptable for her to seek, even desperately, the fulfillment of her deepest needs."
"Yes," I said.
"And surely," she said, "it is permissible for the master, though he is under no obligation, to do so, for she is only a slave, to deign, in his kindness, if it be his whim or pleasure, to fulfill the needs of the slave."
"It is totally up to him," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said. "She is only a slave."
"That you are a natural slave, Alison," I said, "does not prove that the women of Earth are natural slaves."
"My entire chain, in training," she said, "learned that we were."
"It proves nothing," I said.
"Do you think we were all so rare and different?" she asked.
I shrugged. "I do not know," I said.
"We were not," she said.
"Perhaps, perhaps not," I said.
She smiled.
"How long have you known you were a slave?" l asked.
"Since I was a young girl," she said. "I first discovered it in my thoughts and dreams, and feelings, and fantasies. But I thought I could never be more than a secret slave at the mercy of a secret master. Then I was brought to Gor. Here I wear my collar openly and kneel before my masters for all the world to see."
"It is true," I said.
"Do you object that I have slave needs, Master?" she asked.
"I do not object that you, personally, have slave needs," I said. "Indeed, I rejoice that you have slave needs for they make you a perfection and a dream of pleasure."
"But you would not want all women to be like me?" she asked.
"No," I said.
"But what if they were?" she asked.
I looked at her, angrily.
"Or is it only one woman you would not want to be like me?" she asked.
"No!" I said.
"But what if she is?" asked the girl.
I closed my eyes. The thought of Miss Beverly Henderson as a female slave was almost overpoweringly erotic. With difficulty I controlled myself. I thrust the thought from my mind. I must not even permit myself to think such things.
I opened my eyes.
"Do not deny her nature to her," said the girl.
"Kneel to the whip!" I cried. Terrified the girl scrambled to her knees and knelt down, making herself small, her head to the furs. Her wrists were crossed under her, as though bound. She trembled. I now stood over her, the slave whip in my hand. I drew it back, then I threw it aside, angrily. I crouched down. Then I jerked her head up, by the hair. "Permission to placate," she begged, reaching for me with her lips and mouth. But I held her, by the hair, from me. She whimpered, denied. Then I released her hair and permitted her to touch me.
"Thank you, Master," she whispered.
She was a slave. I would permit her to attempt to placate me, in one of the ancient fashions of the female slave.
"I must soon be on my way," I said.
"Master searches for a slave, does he not?" she asked.
"Perhaps," I said.
"Do not ever let her forget that she is a slave," said the girl.
"I must be on my way," I said.
"Have me, but once again," she begged.
I did so, and then, later. I rose to my feet. I unbuckled the leather curtains and threw them back. The tavern was now empty and closed. I turned about and again regarded the
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