"Yes," I said.

"At least someone in the neighborhood seems cheerful," I said.

"Probably peasants," said Marcus.

I thought this might be true. There were many about, having fled before the march of Cos. Driven from their lands, their stock muchly lost, or driven before them, they had come to the shelter of Ar's walls. Still they were ready to sing, to drink and dance. I admired peasants. They were hardy, sturdy, irrepressible. Phoebe now stood humbly before Marcus, as she had been commanded.

"Wipe your face," said Marcus.

She wiped the blood away, or smeared it, with her right forearm.

"This cord," said Marcus, "may function as a slave girdle. Such may be tied in several ways. You, as a slave, doubtless know the tying of slave girdles." I smiled. Marcus would know, of course, that Phoebe would not be likely to know much, if anything, of such matters. Only recently she had been a free woman, though, to be sure, one who had been long kept, languishing, it seemed, and, of course, incompletely fulfilled, in the status of a mere captive. Only a few weeks again had she been branded and collared, and thusly liberated into total bondage.

"No, Master," said Phoebe. "I am not trained, save in so far as you, and before you, Master Tarl, have deigned to impart some understandings to me."

"I see," said Marcus. I think he was just as pleased that Phoebe had not been muchly trained. From one point of view, this suggested that she had presumably been less handled before coming into his keeping that might have been otherwise the case. Also, of course, if she was to strive to please, and squirm, under strict training disciplines, he would prefer that she do so under his personal tutelage, and in the lights of his personal taste, she thus being kept more to himself, and also being trained to be a perfect personal slave, one honed to the whims, preferences and needs of a particular master. To be sure, this sort of thing can be done with any woman. it is part of her "learning the new master."

"Master is undoubted familiar with many slaves, and things having to do with slaves," said Phoebe. "Perhaps then Master can teach his slave such things." Though Marcus was a young man and, as far as I knew, had never owned a personal slave before Phoebe, he, as a Gorean, would be familiar with slaves. Not only were they in his culture but he probably, as he was of the Marcelliani, which had been a prominent, wealthy family in Ar's Station, would have had them in his house, in growing up, the use of some perhaps being accorded to him after puberty. Similarly he would be familiar with them from his military training, which would include matters such as the hunting and capture of women, who count as splendid trophies of the chase, so to speak, and his military life, as officers and men commonly have at their disposal barracks slaves, camp slaves, and such. Too, of course, he would be familiar with the lovely properties encountered in paga taverns, and such places. Indeed, together we had frequented such establishments, for example, in Port Cos, after our landing there, as refugees from Ar's Station. The Gorean slave girl seldom needs to fear that her master will not be fully familiar with, and skilled in, the handling, treatment and discipline of slaves.

"I am not a professional slave trainer," said Marcus, "or costumer or cosmetician, but I will show you two of the most common ties. Others you might inquire of, when the opportunity permits, of your sister slaves."

"Yes, Master," she said.

Phoebe, because of the nature of her acquisition and holding, and our movements, and such, had had very little chance to associate with, or meet, other slaves. On the other hand this deprivation might soon be remedied. I supposed, if Marcus should take up a settled domicile. Indeed, even if we remained n the camp for a few days, it was likely that Phoebe would soon find herself in one group or another of female slaves, conversing, working together. Perhaps laundering, or such. From her sisters in bondage a girl, particularly a new girl, can learn much. In such groups there are normally numerous subtle relationships, hierarchies of dominance, and such, but when a male appears they are all instantly reduced, before him, to the commonality of their beauty and bondage. "Also," said Marcus, sizing up the slim beauty before him, "we can always, if we wish, extend our repertoire of ties by experiment."

"Yes, Master," said Phoebe, eagerly. It seemed she had forgotten her cuffing. Yet I had little doubt that its admonitory sting lingered within her, not only as a useful memorandum of her bondage but recalling her to the prudence of caution.

Marcus looped the cord and put it over her, so that the loop hung behind her back and two loosed ends before her.

Already, it seemed, Phoebe had returned to her normal mode of relating to him, as a mere, docile slave, not daring to confess her love openly. Yet I think there was not something subtly different in their relationship. Phoebe now, given his recent intensity, his denunciation of her mendacity, his fury, his excessive reaction to them, had more than ample evidence of the depth of his feelings toward her. She was more than satisfied with what had occurred. Such things, to the softness and intelligence of her woman's heart, spoke clearly to her. She was not in the position of the helplessly loving female slave at the feet of a beloved master who regarded her with indifference as merely another of his women, or was even cold to her, perhaps disdaining her as a trivial, meaningless possession.

Marcus now, roughly, took the forward ends of the cord, where they dangled before her, and put them back, beneath her arms, through the back loop, and drew them forward where he tied them, snugly, beneath her breasts.

"Oh!" she said.

"You are pretty, slut of Cos," he said, standing back, admiring his handiwork. "I wish I had a mirror," she said.

"You may see yourself, in a sense," I said, "in the mirror of his desire."

"Yes," she whispered, shyly.

"And this," said Marcus, loosening the cord, "is perhaps the most common way of wearing the slave girdle." He then took the forward ends of the cord, again free, and this time crossed them, over the bosom, before placing them again through the loop at the back, drawing them forward and, once more, fastening them, perhaps more snugly than was necessary, before her.

"Ohh," he said. "Yes."

"Aii," I whispered. I then needed a woman. I must leave the tent and search for one, perhaps a girl in one of the open-air brothels, forbidden without permission to leave her mat or even to rise to her knees.

"Is it pretty?" asked Phoebe.

"It is a perhaps not unpleasing effect," said Marcus.

"Yes," I agreed.

"There are, of course, numerous ways in which to tie slave girls," said Marcus. "True," I said. To be sure they tended to have certain things in common, such as the accentuation and enhancement of the slave's figure.

Phoebe moved about in the tent, delighted. She could perhaps suspect what she might look like.

"You see," I said, "there is some point in permitting a female clothing."

"Yes," said he, "providing it may be swiftly, and at one's will, removed."

"Of course," I said.

Phoebe then, beside herself with passion, knelt swiftly before Marcus. "Please, Master!" she said.

I saw that Marcus was in agony to have her. He could scarcely control himself. "Please!" wept the slave.

I expected him to leap upon her and fling her to her back to the dirt, ravishing her with the power of the master.

Please, please, Master!" wept the slave, squirming in piteous need before him. "What do you want?" asked Marcus then, drawing himself up, coldly, looking down at her. It amazed me that he was capable of this.

"Master?" she asked.

He regarded her, coldly.