She looked up at me, boldly. "No," she said. "I have been a free woman, and I have been a slave. I have known both."

"Is not freedom inordinately precious?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, "but more inordinately precious to me is my slavery."

I looked at her.

"I choose the brand," she said, "the collar, and the hands of a master on my body."

I pulled her up beside me, and threw her to her back. "Use me ruthlessly, Master," she begged.

"I shall," I told her.

"Rape me as a slave," she said.

"It will be done," I told her.

In a few moments she screamed her submission and looked at me, unbelievingly.

"I did not know what it would be to be raped as a slave," she whispered.

"It was so swift, and brutal," she said. "Please hold me," she said.

I spurned her with my foot to the side of the alcove, and she lay there, trembling and weeping.

She held out her hand to me. "Please touch me," she said.

"Be silent, Slave," I said.

"Yes, Master," she whispered.

I began to dress.

She rose to her knees and knelt there, then, by the side wall, the steel ankle ring, with its chain, leading to the floor ring, still upon her ankle. "How you used me," she said. She was still trembling.

"Sandals," I said.

She crept to me and, head down, placed my sandals on my feet. She then tied them, drawing the thongs tight and then fastening them. "How you used me," she whispered. Then she held my legs and pressed her cheek against the side of my left leg, above the knee. I did not kick her from me. She looked up, tears in her eyes. "If one Is a true slave," he said, "it is not wrong to be a slave, is it?"

"No," I said.

She held my legs, looking up at me. "If one is a true slave," she said, "it is right that one should be a slave, is it not?"

"Yes," I said.

"I am a true slave," she said.

"Yes," I said.

"It is thus right that I should be a slave," she said.

"Yes," I said. I lifted her to her feet, holding her by the arms before me.

"It is right," she said, "that a true slave should be en-slaved."

"Of course," I said.

"I am a true slave," she said.

"I know," I said.

"It is thus right," she said, "that I should be enslaved."

"Yes," I said.

"I am enslaved," she said.

"Yes," I said. I then threw her to my feet and, turning, parted the curtains of the alcove.

"Master," she wept.

I turned to look at her.

"But one more kiss, please, Master," she said.

She knelt on the furs, chained by the ankle, and I crouched before her, and took her in my arms. We kissed. Then I thrust her back, and stood up.

"You subjected me earlier to slave rape," she said, soft tears in her eyes, with tender reproach.

"Yes," I said.

"And afterwards spurned me from you."

"Yes," I said.

"Keep me, Master!" she suddenly begged. "Keep me!"

I looked down upon her. She knelt before me. She was so soft and beautiful, her eyes and lashes wet with tears, her hair dark and soft on her shoulders, her lip trembling.

"Keep me," she begged.

She had been an agent of Kurii.

"Take me with you," she begged. "Do not leave me behind in this place."

She had been an agent of Kurii.

"Speak," I said.

Tremblingly, head down, she spoke.

"He is Master, and I am Slave.

He is owner, and I am owned.

He commands, and I obey.

He is to be pleased, and I am to please.

Why is this?

Because he is Master, and I am Slave."

"Each night, for a month," I said, "after you are chained in your kennel, and before you fall asleep, say that"

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Similarly, for the same month," I said, "repeat it to yourself many times during the day."

"Yes, Master," she said.

"It may help you to survive," I said.

"Thank you, Master," she said.

"Remember to yield well to men," I said.

"I will not be able to help myself. Master," she smiled.

"Remember submission, and that you are a slave girl," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"You may now find this difficult to believe," I said, "but the time will come when you will find that you are unable to part these curtains and enter this alcove from the floor outside without being hot and wet. Merely to cross this threshold, that of an alcove, that of a chamber of submission, will make you ready for a man's pleasure."

"I do not find it difficult to believe, Master," she whispered. "Merely to look at the curtains excites me." She touched her collar. "Merely to touch my collar excites me. To kneel on the furs, to feel them on my body, to be kneeling itself, before a man, excites me. To be naked before him, on my knees, makes me miserable with the desire for his touch."

"I think you will survive, Slave," I told her.

"May I kiss your feet but once more, Master," she said.

I permitted this.

I felt her lips, so sweet on my feet, her tears and hair. "Keep me," she begged. "Keep me, Master."

I looked down once more at the slave at my feet, who had been an agent of Kurii.

Then I turned about and left the alcove.

"Master!" she cried.

I looked back at her, once more. She was on her belly, half through the curtains, her left leg extended behind her, held by the ankle ring and chain. She hold out her right hand to me. "Please buy me! Don't leave me here!" she wept.

"How was she?" asked a paga attendant, pausing in his work, buffing goblets.

"I will not demand a refund," I told him.

"Do you think she will work out?" he asked. "Pembe was curious."

"Probably," I said. "It is hard to know about those things. It is my guess that she will prove satisfactory."

"Is her slavery close to the surface?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. "Doubtless it will soon become fully manifest."

"Does she have slave fire?" he asked.

I remembered her sobbing in my arms, kissing and licking, and begging for my least touch.

"Yes," I said.

"That is good," he said. "Perhaps there is hope for the wench. I grow weary of carrying bodies to the harbor."

I went to the place, near the rear wall, where I had left the blond-haired barbarian. She had fallen asleep, slumped, blindfolded, there. She had, of course, released her ankles.

I touched her gently, and she, with a little moan of anguish, awakened. She realized then, suddenly, she had dropped off to sleep. Suddenly, fearfully, she assumed the kneeling position in which I had placed her, head down, gripping her ankles.

"No," I told her, softly.

I then took her gently in my arms. How small and light she was. I do not think she weighed more than one hundred and ten pounds.

"I am leaving by the back way," I told the paga attendant.

"As you wish," he said.

Outside I waited for a few moments, to see if the door, behind me, should be moved ajar. I examined, too, the dust of the alley, to see if it moved, or otherwise stirred, as it might have, if a foot had passed. I looked about, at the roofs about. The door did not move. The dust did not stir. The tops of the buildings, as nearly as I could determine, seemed clear.

I looked at the girl in my arms. She was again asleep. For a moment I felt moved to tenderness toward her. Her life, in the past few weeks, had not been easy. She had been a pawn in the cruel games of worlds. Too, it is sometimes traumatic for a proud, free woman of Earth to discover that she has suddenly become an owned slave. I would let the girl sleep. I carried her through the streets of Schendi. I did not take a direct route to my room.