When more than one slave girl stands in a relationship of slave girls, as when they serve in the same shop or house, or adorn the same rich man's pleasure gardens, it is common for the master, or masters, to appoint a "first girl." Her authority is then to the other girls as is that of the master. This tends to reduce squabbling. The first girl is usually, though not always, the favorite of the master. There is usually much competition to be first girl. First girls can be cruel and petty but, commonly, they attempt to govern with intelligence and justice. They know that another girl, at the master's whim, may become first girl, and that they themselves may then be under her almost absolute power. In my own house I often rotated the position of first girl among my slaves who were native Goreans. I never made an Earth-girl slave first girl. This is fitting. Let them be always as the slaves of slaves.

I looked at the Earth girl, who had been left kneeling on the deck, the second officer having left her there. She did not move a muscle. She was being well trained.

"I hate her," said Sasi.

"Why? I asked.

"She is so stupid and slow," said Sasi.

"Things are hard for her," I told Sasi. "Remember that she is only a barbarian."

"She is stupid," said Sasi.

"I do not think she is stupid," I said.

"She is slow," said Sasi.

"She is learning," I said.

"She will always be a pitiful, clumsy slave," said Sasi.

"Perhaps," I said. "I do not know." Frankly I did not think she was, even now, a pitiful, clumsy slave. She seemed to me to learn quickly. I felt that she would, in time, particularly if put under sex conquest, prove superb.

"Are you going to train me a little tonight, Master?" asked Sasi.

"Perhaps," I said.

I had already brought her past the limitations of the free woman's heat.

Sometimes at night I would pull her forth from her cage, the key to which had been given to me, use her, and then put her back in the cage.

After the first three or four days she had begun to grow rather food of her collar. It is an interesting transition in a woman.

I looked at the blond-haired slave, kneeling in the position of the pleasure slave.

Sasi bit into the larma fruit.

The first two days the blond-haired girl could not eat. She had shrunk back in honor from the gruel of meal and fish, fit provender for slaves, thrust in its pan into her cage. She had looked at me. Compared to it, the garbage of Port Kar had been haut cuisine. But on the third day she had finished it, thrusting it with her fingers into her mouth and licking the pan clean. Slaves are often not permitted utensils. Seeing that the pan was clean, Ulafi had then had his second officer commence her lessons. The next day Sasi, at Ulafi's request of me, had begun to improve her Gorean.

"Do you think she is pretty Master? asked Sasi.

"Yes," I said. I did think she was pretty. She seemed more lovely now than when we had left Port Kar. It was probably the fresh air, the exercise and the finding of herself under the absolute domination of men. The training, too, doubtless helped.

The second officer now returned to the kneeling girl and, standing behind her, loosely, with a movement of the slave whip, looped the five broad blades of the whip about her neck. He then held the loops against the whip's staff, her neck encircled by them. He then, pulling against the side of her neck, threw her to his feet.

"What are you?" he asked.

"A slave girl, Master," she said, her neck in the loops of the whip.

"What Is a slave girl?" he asked.

"A girl who is owned," she said.

"Are you a slave girl?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Then you are owned," he said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Who owns you?" he asked.

"Ulafi of Schendi," she said.

"Who trains you?" he asked.

"Shoka of Schendi," she said.

"Do you have a brand?"

"Yes, Master."

"Why?"

"Because I am a slave."

"Do you wear a collar?"

"Yes, Master."

"What sort of collar do you wear?"

"A shipping collar, Master. It shows that I am a portion of the cargo of the Palms of Schendi." I thought the girl's Gorean, though the responses were generally simple, had improved considerably in the last few days.

"What is the common purpose of a collar?"

"The collar has four common purposes, Master," she said. "First, it visibly designates me as a slave, as a brand might not, if it should be covered by clothing. Second, it impresses my slavery upon me. Thirdly, it identifies my master. Fourthly-fourthly-"

"Fourthly?" he asked.

"Fourthly," she said, "it makes it easier to leash me."

He kicked her in the side. She winced. Her response had been slow.

"Do you like being a slave girl?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," she said. She sobbed. She was again kicked.

"Yes, Master! Yes, Master!" she cried.

"What does a slave girl want more than anything?" he asked.

"To please men," she said.

"What are you?" he asked.

"A slave girl," she said.

"What do you want more than anything?" he asked.

"To please men!" she cried.

"Nadu!" he cried, loosening the whip coils on her throat.

She swiftly knelt, back on her heels, back straight, head high, hands on her thighs, knees wide.

He then left her again, and she remained kneeling. She moved no muscle.

"Is she more pretty than I, Master?" asked Sasi.

"Your beauties are quite different," I said. "I think you are both quite pretty. I think you will both make superb little slaves."

"Oh," said Sasi.

An additional utility of the collar, though it did not count as one of its four common purposes, was that it made it easier to put the girl in various ties. For example, one can use it to tie her hands before her throat, or at the sides or back of her neck. One can use it with, say, rope or chain, to fasten girls together. One can tie her feet to her collar, and so on. If the feet are tied to the collar the knot is always in the front, so that the pressure will be against the back of the girl's neck and not the front. The purpose of such a tie is to hold the slave, not choke her. Gorean men are not clumsy in their binding of women.

I looked at the kneeling, blond-haired girl. How miserable, superficially, she seemed in her slavery. I supposed that if she were asked, outside the context of training, where certain answers are prescribed, if she liked being a slave girl, she would have denied it vehemently, perhaps with tears. Doubtless she would have begged piteously for her freedom. Yet I recalled that when her trainer, Shoka of Schendi, had flung her to his feet by the whip coils on her neck she had fallen in a certain way, and had lain at his feet in a certain fashion. I recalled the position of her wrists and palms, and the look in her eyes, as she had looked up at him. Her hip had been turned. Both legs had been drawn back, but one more than the other. Her toes had been pointed, accentuating the turn of her calf. She had not fallen clumsily. She had not lain clumsily at his feet. She had lain at his feet, and looked at him, as a slave. She had not been trained to do that. I did not even think she was aware of this sort of thing.

"Do you like me, Master?" asked Sasi.

"Yes," I said, "particularly since you have had a bath."

"Oh, Master," she said.

I had scrubbed her the first day out from Port Kar, she kneeling in a tub, with sea water and a deck brush.

"What was the last time you had a bath?" I asked her.

"A girl pushed me in the South canal a year ago," she said.

"I see," I said.

"Is Master fastidious?" she asked.

"Not particularly," I said, "but I will expect you to keep yourself reasonably clean from now on. You are no longer a free woman."

"No, Master," she said.