I regarded the woman kneeling before me. That her brains had not been dashed outby the club of the savage indicated to me not only that she had, intimately andlengthily, in her performances, petitioned to be enslaved, but that she had, inthese same performances, proved herself a slave. I wondered if she knew that shewas a slave. I surmised that she still thought herself free. This delusion couldalways be dispelled at the convenience of a master. In the beginning,incidentally, the cues, which reveal slavery in a woman, can sometimes besubtle. Later, of course, as she grows in her slavery, as she realizes that herdeepest and most profound nature may not only be revealed, but must be revealed,that it is not only permissible to reveal her womanhood, but that it must berevealed, and fully, she, in accord with this liberation, undergoes a marveloustransformation; she tends to become vital and sensuous, and loving, and happy.

This is a beautiful transformation to see in a woman. Happy is he who has aslave.

"After your performances," I said, "Doubtless you expected to be well andlengthily ravished."

"Yes," she said, "almost from the first moment I felt the warm grass under mybelly, almost from the first moment I put my mouth to the paws of that beast"

"And were you?" I asked.

"No," she said, angrily. "I was bound, and given to these people."

"I see," I said. I had thought that it would be so.

"Do not fear," said Pumpkin to the stripped beauty, kneeling in the primitiveyoke, well fastened in it, "your trials and tribulations, your embarrassments,your hardships, your miseries, will soon be over."

"Do not slay me," she begged.

"That may be done to you, if Masters wish," I told her.

She turned white. I saw that, on some level, she understood that she was aslave.

"But you are very fortunate," said one of the Waniyanpi.

"The masters have seen fit to show you mercy," said another.

"At least for the time," said another.

"Masters?" she asked.

"Your masters, and ours," said Pumpkin, "Bondwoman."

"Bondwoman!" she cried, struggling in the yoke. But she did not try to rise toher feet. I think this was because I was present.

"Yes," said Pumpkin.

"We are going to call her Turnip," said one of Waniyanpi.

"I am a free woman," she cried. "I am the Lady Mira, the City of Venna!"

I smiled to myself. How naive seemed the kneeling slave, Turnip.

"By the instructions of our masters," said Pumpkin, "you are to be taken as youare, yoked and unclothed, to the con pound" Compound?" she asked.

"Yes, Garden Eleven, our home," said Pumpkin.

"You will be happy there," said one of the Waniyanpi.

"We all are," insisted another.

"Unfortunately," said Pumpkin, "you are to be taken there on a tether, marchedacross the grasslands, without clothing and in your yoke, much as might be anycommon Gorean slave, whose slavery is being impressed upon her."

"And, doubtlessly," she said, acidly, "I will give you much pleasure on thetrek."

"We will look forward to the pleasure of your company, said one of them.

"I see," she said.

"I do not think you do," I said, "at least as yet."

"Do not fear," said Pumpkin. "You will be treated, at times, with total dignityand respect."

"We will not even look at you, at least not directly," said another.

"That is," said another, "until your shame has been covered."

"Shame?" asked the girl.

"Your beauty, your prettiness," explained another.

Not all the Sames, those who have the unimportant and negligible property offemaleness, are as — healthy appearing as you," said another.

"Thus you might make them feel that they were not the same as you, or that youwere not the same as they," said another.

"They would not like that," said another.

"It is shameful not to make people feel they are the same, said another.

"Because everyone is the same, really," said another, "of course."

"Of course," said another.

"Too," said Pumpkin, "it can trouble the Sames who have the unimportant andnegligible property of maleness. It may make them have certain kinds offeelings."

"Not me," said one of the Waniyanpi.

"Nor I," said another. "I never have such feelings."

"But not all of us," said Pumpkin, "are as strong and good as Carrot andCabbage."

"I myself," said another, "can look on such things and not have the leastfeeling."

A chorus of admiration thrilled the Waniyanpi.

"Nor as Beans," said Pumpkin. "But for some of us your healthy appearance can beextremely disturbing."

"It makes me sick," said another.

"It makes me ill, too, to look upon it," said another. "I threw up when first Isaw it."

"Good," said another fellow.

"It disturbs me," said another fellow. "I admit that it is "An honest confession," said Pumpkin. "You are to be congratulated on yourcandor and veracity. The next task is to seek improvement."

"Yes," said the fellow who had spoken, contritely. "Perhaps if I were permittedto look upon it more often I might manage to steel myself against it."

"Plunge rather into arduous, time-consuming, mind-occupying labors," saidPumpkin.

"And bathe often in cold streams," advised another.

The fellow looked down. I did not blame him. I myself did not relish bathing incold streams. I preferred warm baths, being attended by a beautiful femaleslave. After all, should a free man be expected to apply his own oils, scrapethe dirt from his own skin with the strigil and towel himself?

"You see," said Pumpkin to the captured girl, "your appearance, even if it werenot so healthy looking. perhaps, can cause some of us to think certain thoughtsand have certain feelings. It can even bring about movements in our bodies. Thismakes it harder to be Sames. And it is shameful not to be Sames."

"For we are Sames," said another. "Everyone knows that."

"And thus it is," said Pumpkin, "that your appearance can cause shame, and as itcauses shame, it must be shameful."

"Too," said another, "it can distract from truly important things.

"Such as being Sames," said another.

"Yes," said Pumpkin.

The girl shuddered, convinced perhaps that she was in the presence of lunatics.

Madness is an interesting concept. As some define it, it is a function of thesocial conventions obtaining at a given time. In the country of the mad, thuslyonly the sane will be accounted insane. Acquiescence to con temporaryaxiological conventions, of course is not the only possible conceptual approachto such matters. Another approach might be to envision a world compatible withreality and congenial to human nature, a world in which science even socialscience, might be free, a world in which truth would not be against the law, aworld designed not for the crippling, distortion and torture of humanity but forits fulfillment" But do not fear," said Pumpkin to the girl, "for, soon when we reach thecompound, you will be decently clothed."

"Like you?" she asked. She regarded the long, gray, coarse, clumsy dresses onthe Waniyanpi with distaste.

"These garments help us to suppress our desires and keel us humble," said one ofthe Waniyanpi.

"We are reminded by them that we are all Sames," said another.

"That we all, when all is said and done," said another, "an naught butWaniyanpi."

This seemed to make sense to me. The human being has tendency to be consistent,no matter from what eccentric premises he may begin. He will normally behave ina way accordingly, that befits his clothing. This is perhaps the deeper sense ofthe English expression that clothing makes the man.

"Better to be stripped and have a string of hide tied on one's neck!" said thegirl, angrily.

"What is done to those in your compound who are not the same?" I asked.

"We attempt to convert them," said one of the men.