"What is your name?" he asked.

"Emily," said the girl behind me.

"We are going to get on well, aren't we, Emily?" he asked.

"Yes, Master!" she said.

He then stepped back from us. "You are slaves," he said.

"I am Borkon, your whip master. Within these walls you will be to me as my own slaves, in all ways. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Master," murmured several of the girls.

"Louder," he said, "all of youl"

"Yes, Master!" we shouted. - "You will work, eat' drink, juice, sleep, dream and excrete upon my command," he said.

"Yes, Master!" we said.

"if any of you retain any pride or courage," he said, "I will remove it from you. It will get in the way of your being a good slave. Do any of you retain any pride or courage?"

"No, Master!" we cried.

"I do," said Luta.

"Step forth, and kneel," he said.

Luta obeyed. Although she was a large, strong woman and could have beaten any of us, smaller, weaker women, she looked small, and suddenly timid, kneeling before Borkon.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Luta, Master," she said.

"How long have you been a slave, Luta?" he asked, removing the whip from his belt.

"A week, Master," she said.

"It is amazing that a woman such as you has survived this long," he said. "I would have thought you would have been slain by now."

"Master?" she faltered.

"On all fours," he said.

She obeyed.

He then lashed her, and she, in a moment, sobbing and gasping, disbelief in her eyes, was on her belly in the yard, a whipped slave.

"Are you not supposed to be on all fours?" he asked.

She struggled, sobbing, to this position.

"I am authorized, if I wish," he said, "to kill you, or have you killed." She shuddered.

"I do not find you particularly pleasing," he said. "I am considering whether or not to have you fed to sleen this evening."

"Master?" she asked.

"You are a slave," he said. "You will serve and yield, or die. I will let you make the decision."

"Master?" she asked, frightened.

"The decision is yours," he said. "Choose as you will. It makes no difference to me, one way or the other."

"Please, Master!" she cried.

"Do you choose to serve and yield, or die?" he asked. "I give you ten Ilin in which to make your decision. One! Two! Three!"

"I will serve and yield!" she cried.

"Speak more clearly," he said.

"I choose to serve and yield!" she wept.

"And without reservation?" he asked.

"And without reservation!" she said.

"Do you desire to serve and yield, and with no reservations whatsoever he asked. "Yes" she said "I desire to serve and yield and without reservations Whatsoever!"

"And do you beg to serve and yield and with no reservations whatsoever" he asked.

"Yes' yes," she echoed. "I beg to serve and yield and with no reservations whatsoever!"

"You may now kiss my feet," he said.

Luta, desperately, humbly, fearfully, kissed his feet "More," he said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Do you now have any pride?" he asked.

"No, Master," she said.

"Do you now have any courage?" he asked.

"No, Master," she said.

"Kiss the whip," he said, "and as a slave."

Luta did so, fearfully.

"Return now to your place," he said

Yes Master," she said and, rising up, hurried to her place "We are all going to be pleasing, and meet our work quota aren't we?" inquired Borkon.

"Yes' Master!" we said, including Luta.

He then lifted his whip to the lips of the first girl in the he. "I kiss the whip of Borkon," she said "Who do you love?" he asked.

"Borkon," she said.

In a moment or two I felt the whip pressed, too, against my lips. I kissed it "I have kissed the whip of Borkon," I said "Who do you lover" he asked.

"Borkon," I said In another moment or two, after Emily, he stood before Luta. She, too, kissed the whip.

"Who do you love?" he asked.

"Borkon," she said "I love Borkon!"

In another moment or two we were following Borkon across the yard and toward one of the buildings. I knew I would have to please him well. He was my whip master.

25 I Leave the Mill

I saw him taking out the slave sack in the utility room This was not the first time I had been unchained and hurried to the utility room "Get in," he said.

Before he had taken the sack from its shelf he had ordered me to the floor of the utility room, to my back on the dusty boards.

"Lie there and juice;" he had told me. "Waste no time about it." I had lain there and, briefly, shut my eyes and thought of his might and power, and my helpless slavery, and then I was ready, almost in a moment, to receive him he had had me swiftly.

I crawled into the sack, and it was pulled up, over my head, and laced shut I then felt it dragged across the floor.

He then lifted it up, partly, I now sitting in it, and left it against a wall. He then left The confinement was not intended to be one of full security, of course. If it had been, then I would have been bound and gagged within it, that I might be able, by fingernails or teeth, to attack seams or cut through the leather. Indeed, if I caused the least bit of damage the slave sack, I had little doubt but what I would be well whipped, sent in the slave sack is, incidentally, a form of Punishment for a girl. l did not think, that I was being punished At least I did not know anything that I had done which might have displeased As always; as far as I knew, I had tried to be such to him that he would find me pleasing. Perhaps he was angry with me because of the welt on my face, but that was not my fault. Last night I had been struck by Luta. If he wanted to punish someone he should have punished her. She was very jealous of Emily and myself, who seemed clearly to be Borkon's favorites. Last night, after supper, my slave needs much upon me, I had begged to juice for Borkon. He had permitted this in his quarters. When I had been returned to the dormitory and the door had been locked behind me, she had been up and waiting. My face was still sore. It was not my fault that she did not find herself being put to Borkon's pleasure. He certainly was free to choose her, and not Emily or myself, or one of our other chain sisters. It was no secret in the mill that she regarded herself as Borkon's slave in some special sense. Ever since he had whipped and conquered her in the yard she had been very possessive about him. She was the best worker on the chain. Yet he scarcely seemed to notice her. Sometimes she would even try to be a bit dilatory or recalcitrant, to attract his attention, but commonly this only earned her a beating, and that usually from a subordinate whip master. Interestingly, in her slavery, Luta had ceased to be ugly. Her ugliness had been, it was now clear, largely a matter of expression, as it often is, expressions which had made manifest her frustration and hatred, and her misery. Though she was now no longer ugly she remained, I suppose, rather homely and plain. On the other hand, this homeliness or plainness, at times, seemed touched with a vulnerability and softness which, especially when she was near Borkon, made it seem almost beautiful. The exercises and diet of the slave, of course, had improved her figure considerably. I did not see, frankly, why Borkon did not give her a trial at his feet. I did not think she was all that bad, really. Too, he was not Gor's most handsome fellow. Too, I would think it should count for something with a man if the woman desires to serve him deeply and fully in all ways, and is in love with him.

It was hot and stuffy in the slave sack, but it was, at least, a respite from the work with the loom. It is tiring, Ahn in and Ahn out, standing, chained, by the loom, operating it.