Would you not like having one, or more, for your very own?
They are lovely, collared, stripped, kneeling to your whip.
"I am yours!" she said. "Do with me as you will!"
"I will," I said, "and so, too, will all your masters."
Her fingernails were in my back, but I think she could not control herself.
"What you are doing to me!" she wept.
I then held her at the brink.
"Perhaps you are prepared to submit, as a slave?" I inquired.
"Yes," she said. "Yes! Yes!"
"Perhaps you beg to be permitted to submit?" I asked, keeping her where she was.
"Yes!" she said. "I beg to submit!"
"You may then do so," I said.
"Master?" she asked.
I touched her once, gently.
"Aiiii!" she cried out. "I submit! I submit!"
Then she held me, closely. "I belong to men," she wept. "I belong to them!"
"Yes," I said.
"Is she ready?" inquired Mincon, now arrived at my small camp. Two other fellows were behind him.
"Yes," I said.
Ina quickly got to her knees and put her head down, low, to the dirt. I tied her hands behind her back.
"This is the traitress?" asked Mincon.
"Yes," I said.
He crouched beside her, and tied a rope about her neck.
"We are not fond of traitresses," he said to her.
"Yes, Master," she whispered, not raising her head.
"You understand the problems connected with her?" I asked Mincon.
"Yes," he said. "She will be disposed of, as one slave among others."
"Ina," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said, looking up.
"You understand the danger in which you might stand, if your former identity were ascertained?"
"Yes, Master," she said.
"I would thus take care, in so far as it was possible," I said, "to conceal it."
"Yes, Master," she said.
"In any event, that identity is now gone."
"Yes, Master," she said.
"What are you now?" I asked.
"A slave," she said.
"And anything else?" I asked.
"No, Master," she said. "I am a slave, and only a slave."
"Do not forget it," I said.
"No, Master," she said.
"She was a traitress to Ar," I said to Mincon, "and served Cos. It is perhaps then appropriate that she might be disposed of among Cosians."
"An excellent suggestion," said Mincon.
As she had served Cosians, it seemed appropriate that her beauty and service now, abjectly, and in the dimensions of the mere female slave, should be totally at their disposal. This would also, I hoped, keep her far from those of Ar. To be sure, the trends of events might take various turns in Ar, and she might not, after a time, not only not be sought by those of Ar, if, indeed, she was sought by them now, but she might not even be of interest to them. And, too, after being in the collar for a time, in virtue of its attendant transformations in beauty, attitude and behavior, she might not, now as a lovely, obedient slave, even be recognizable to those who knew her in Ar. They might note, casually, and perhaps with some interest, the resemblance of the enslaved beauty to a formerly known free woman. That would be all.
"On your feet, slave," said Mincon.
Quickly Ina stood.
"You will be taken from the camp naked," I told Ina. "In this way you will be more anonymous than if you were wearing a garment of a given sort."
"Yes, Master," she said, her small, lovely, hands bound behind her back, Mincon's rope on her neck, its coils in his hand.
We had, after her discipline in the slave camp, incidentally, retrieved her garment, from where she had discarded it, thrusting it between slave cages. There was a particular reason I wished to retrieve the garment. It also gave me an opportunity to bring her back to our camp with the garment about her neck, a touch which I thought would be helpful in accommodating her to her new reality. Sometimes masters, as a discipline for their beauties, have them go naked in public, but with their tunic, or ta-teera, or whatever, about their neck or wrist. This helps the girl feel even more naked. Something similar occurs when a bound, stripped free woman is forced to hold a portion of her garments, perhaps a lovely, sliplike undergarment, between her teeth. This, as she is forbidden to drop it, acts as a de facto gag. It also, of course, helps her to understand that the nature of her new reality, the reality in which she now finds herself, may be other than that with which she was formerly familiar.
"I now," I said, "remove your name. Your name is removed."
She looked at me, frightened, a nameless slave.
"Your new masters," I said, "if they wish, will give you a name."
"Yes, Master," she whispered.
I then lifted up a sack I had retrieved from the concourse, on our return earlier from the slave camp.
She regarded it, terrified.
"I wish you well," I said.
"I wish you well, Master," she said.
I then kissed her and put the sack over her head, and, with its strings, tied it closed, about her neck. It was the same sack in which Octantius had apparently intended to bring her head to Saphronicus. On the other hand, it was also a nondescript sack, not different from hundreds of others. Perhaps that would have been part of Octantius' joke, bringing her head to Saphronicus in such a sack, not even in one of gold, set with jewels.
"Come, slave," said Mincon, and drew on the rope. I watched her being led from our camp, a stripped, bound, hooded, nameless slave, on her rope.
I then glanced to one side, a few yards from our small camp, to a set of stakes. There, attached to one of these stakes by an ankle chain, there was another slave. She was kneeling, and her head was tied down, to her crossed ankles, and her hands were tied behind her back, as were those of the slave who had just been conducted from the camp. The slave at the stake, moreover, was covered with a sheet. It had been put over her head, tied about her neck, that it might thus serve as a slave hood, and then draped over her. I had arranged yesterday, before Octantius had come to the camp, for her to be delivered this afternoon. I had found her here when I had returned with Ina from the camp.
Then I turned about, in time to see a distraught Marcus hove into view. I was quite pleased to note that he was a picture of dejection and misery.
I watched him approach the camp.
"She is not there," he said.
"Oh?" I said. I had become, incidentally, a master actor while with the troupe of Boots Tarsk-Bit. To be sure, he had never permitted me upon the stage, and, after observing my audition, so to speak, had utilized me primarily for other tasks, such as, as I have mentioned, assembling the stage and freeing the wheels of mired wagons. He was perhaps jealous of his own stardom with the troupe.
"She is gone," he said.
"That is often the case with folks who are not there," I said.
But I noted he was in no mood to relish this deft dash of wit.
"I cannot live without her," he said.
"You managed quite well until yesterday morning," I said, "and doubtless, with effort, can do so again."
"No," he said, "not that I have now seen her."
"Just forget her," I said. "Put her out of your mind, like a good fellow."
"No," he said.
"Why are you unsheathing your sword?" I asked, somewhat apprehensively.
"Would you hold it for me, please?" he asked.
"What for?" I asked.
"I intend to throw myself upon it," he said.
"That is one way to avoid having to clean it after use," I said.
"Please," he said, bracing its hilt in the dirt.
"What if you fall sideways?" I asked. "I might get cut."
"Please, Tarl," he said.
"Ina is not here," I said. "Have you not noticed?"
"No," he said, glumly.
"I gave her to the mercena
ry," I said. "His man, with two others, came to pick her up."
"That is nice," said Marcus.
"It is my hope," I said, "that she will be safe."
"I share your hope," he said, attempting to get the sword adjusted to a suitable angle.
"Could you use some help there?" I asked.
"Yes," he said. "Thank you."
"You will try to throw yourself straight on this, will you not?" I asked.
"Yes," he said. "I will."
As he was poised to leap on the sword, I leaned it to the side.
"Are you sure you wish to go through with this?" I asked.
"Quite sure," he said.
"Would you not rather go to a paga enclosure?" I asked.
"Not at the moment," he said.
"Perhaps later?" I asked.
"Please, Tarl," he said.
I again leaned the blade to the side. "It is difficult to look well while leaping on a sword," I said.
"Perhaps," he said, irritably.
"I never realized that before," I said.
"Please hold the blade still," he said.
I leaned it to the side again.
"Tarl!" he said, in exasperation.
"I gather that you find the girl of interest," I said.
"I am preparing to kill myself because of her," he said.
"I thought so," I said. "She has taken your fancy."
"Why do you not just drive the blade into my heart?" he asked.
"I suppose I could do that," I said.
"I am ready," he said, straightening up.
"Yes, you certainly seem to be ready, all right," I said. He had an unusually grim expression on his face, grim even for Marcus, who was a very serious young man.
"Are you sure you can go through with this?" asked Marcus, skeptically.
"I think so," I said. "Certainly it would seem easier, at least on the whole, for me than for you."
"Please, Tarl," he said.
"After all, what are friends for?"
"Strike!" he said.
I lowered the blade.
"What are we going to do for female companionship," I asked, "with Ina gone?"
"That would seem to be your concern, rather than mine," he said. "Strike!"
I lowered the blade again.
"But I have considered that contingency," I said.
"Excellent," said Marcus.
I feared he might become surly.
"I have arranged for a replacement female," I said.
"Excellent," he said.
"I thought you would be pleased," I said.
"Perhaps I have some poison in my pack," he said.
"Would you care to see her?" I asked.
"No," he said.
"You are not in the mood?" I said.
"Not now," he said. "I am trying to end my life."
"I have a better idea," I said.
"A better idea?" he asked.
"Yes," I said. "I really think so."
"What is it?" he asked.
"Surely you recall the smoking ruins of Ar's Station? Surely you recall the vengeances which you have howled against those of Cos?"
A transformation, though a rather unsettling one, a quite menacing one, suddenly came over Marcus.
I handed him back his sword.
He thrust it angrily into his sheath.
"My thanks," said he, "Warrior. I have been weak. I am ashamed. I am grateful that you have recalled me to my senses."
"That is quite all right," I said.
"I do have something to live for," he said, grimly. "I can live for vengeance, deep and profound, terrible, vengeance against Cos and all things Cosian!"
"Certainly," I said. I was actually a bit apprehensive that Marcus, who was something of a man of action, might rush over to the Cosian camp, slashing away at fellows doing their washing, and so on.
"My thanks!" said Marcus.
"It is nothing," I said, uneasily.
"Where now is the replacement female?" he said. He now seemed strong, and angry. Something like the heat of the hunt seemed on him now. He was now ready to cuff a female, hurl her to his feet and throw apart her legs.
"Around somewhere," I said. This was, I was suddenly sure, not the very best time to introduce him to the girl, and for a very good reason.
"Come now," said he, "where is she?"
"Over here," I said.
I led him over to the stake, a few yards away, among other stakes, to which the female, tied kneeling, head down, covered with a sheet, was chained by an ankle.
"Unsheet her," he said.
I bent down and untied the cord which, about her neck, held the center of the sheet, hoodlike, over her head. I put the cord in my pouch. I then, perhaps somewhat dramatically, suddenly drew the sheet away from the bound girl. She moved, wildly, but could not lift her head up, as it was tied down, fastened to her crossed ankles.
"It is she!" cried Marcus, startled, with joy!
The girl, as she could, turning her head in the rope, looked up, wildly, joyfully, at Marcus.
He fell to his knees beside her, fumbling with the ropes, almost beside himself.
"How! How!" he asked.
I put my fingers over my mouth, to warn the girl not to speak.
She was sobbing with joy.
"How is it possible!" cried Marcus, tearing at the ropes at her ankles.
"She was my captive, and full servant, from long ago," I said, "from the Crooked Tarn."
"'Full servant'!" said Marcus.
I saw that he would not be too pleased to share this special female. I think he wanted every bit of her to himself. To be sure, I could presumably find a woman here and there on the road, or even, as we passed various markets, buy one and sell her, and then buy another and sell her, and so on, as we traveled.
"Ephialtes was holding her for me," I said.
"She is now a slave!" he announced.
"Yes," I said. I had had Ephialtes do this yesterday afternoon. He had taken her to a processing chain in the slave camp. On her neck there was a common iron collar, a strap collar, hammered shut, as there had been on the neck of she who, until a few Ehn ago, had had the name 'Ina'. Similarly, as she who had had the name 'Ina' this slave was now branded. She, too, as that slave, now wore the common Kajira brand, the tiny, delicate, lovely cursive Kef. This is a good brand for females, as it tells them that they are only common slaves.
"I must have her!" he cried. He tore the ropes from her neck.
She gasped, and uttered a joyous sound, but dared not speak. He seized her in his arms, she kneeling, her hands bound behind her, helpless, sobbing, laughing, and drew her toward him.
"The ankle!" I cried.
He had drawn her toward him and her left leg was now extended back, toward the stake, the chain taut.
"Free it! Free it!" cried Marcus, covering her with kisses.
I got the key into the shackle and opened it, and he pulled her loose. I lifted my arm to the stake attendant. One pays two tarsk bits, one for the rental, one as a deposit against the key. Marcus and the slave were lost in the rapture of one another. In a moment I had turned in the key and received my tarsk bit back, that which had been held as a deposit. A tarsk bit may not be much but sometimes it can be very important, as, for example, when one does not have one. "You are not going to use her here are you?" inquired the attendant of Marcus. "It is hard enough," he said, indicating a nearby blonde and redhead, both back-braceleted, chained, too, by their left ankles to their respective stakes, "to keep these other slaves from whimpering and moaning."
The girl we had just freed from the stake laughed with pleasure in Marcus' arms.
"Carry her back to the camp," I advised him. "She is a slave!" I reminded him.
And then he threw her over his shoulder, her head to the rear, as is proper for a slave, and carried her the few yards to our camp.
"Touch me, Master! I beg it!" cried the blonde to the attendant.
"No, touch me! Please touch me!" we
pt the redhead.
"See?" asked the attendant of me.
"Yes," I said.
"Master!" called the blonde.
"Master!" called the redhead. "Please, Master!"
"Be silent, sluts," he said.
I followed Marcus to our camp. He had put the girl down there, on her knees, and she was looking up at him, rapturously.
"I must have her!" he cried to me.
The girl looked at me wildly, hopefully.
"She is yours," I said.
She cried out with joy.
"A gift?" he cried.
"Yes," I said, "a mere gift."
"No!" he cried. "Here!" He then threw me the entire sack of gold which he had taken from Octantius earlier in the afternoon.
"Well, very well," I said, taking the gold. One hundred pieces of gold is nothing to be sneezed at, so to speak. Also, I suspected that there might prove to be a good reason for accepting it. I could always divide it with him later, if I wished.
"You have done this!" said Marcus to me, grandly. He clasped my hand warmly. "How can I ever thank you?"
"It is nothing," I said. Of course, I had just, as a matter of fact, received a hundred pieces of gold. Surely that should count for something.
"I own you!" he cried proudly, happily, to the girl.
She flung herself to her belly before him, covering his feet with kisses. In an instant he had knelt before her and drawn her up to her knees, holding her and kissing her. She had her head back.
He then pulled her half to her feet, she bent back, and then, he crouching over her, lowered her, gently, to her back. He then knelt there, beside her, joyously, almost unbelievingly, gazing on her. She was a beautiful slave, branded, bound there, before him, his. I knew this girl, and she was a slave to the bottom of her pretty little belly. She had waited long for her master.
"Perhaps you would like to know how much gold is in this sack," I said to the girl.
She looked at me, suddenly, extremely interested, extremely attentive. She was extremely female. She wanted to know what she had brought, in her sale.
"Would you like to know?" I inquired.
She nodded, desperately. I had warned her to silence earlier.
"But curiosity is not becoming in a Kajira," I said.
Her expression changed instantly. Tears sprang to her eyes.
"But it is a hundred pieces of gold," I said, "tarn disks of Ar, full weight." To be sure, I had not counted this, and I doubt that Marcus had either. On the other hand, it was the money which had been ready as a reward for she whose name earlier had been 'Ina' and I had no doubt that it had been carefully counted and weighed. If the amount had been short, in either number or weight, I would not have wished to be Octantius, dealing with his hirelings.
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