"Yes, Mistress!" we said.

"Go forth, Slaves," she said "Yes, Mistress!" we said and, with a jangle of slave bells, hurried to join the other girls on the floor.

"Your knees," I whispered to Emily, "open them."

"Thank you, Tiffany," said Emily, spreading her knees.

"Tile knees of the pleasure slave, when she is in a kneeling position, are to be kept open before the master, and, indeed, before all free men. Emily, in the same room with Aemilianus, was still struggling with her modesty. In the mill, of course, Aemilianus had had her open her knees before him.

We knelt side by side at one side of the room. What little serving was being done was now being attended to by the other girls. How beautiful they were. And how natural, and perfect, and right and fitting it seemed that they, in their slightness and beauty, were serving men. I knelt there, with Emily, to one side, my knees open, in pleasure silk, a collar locked on my neck, a barbaric, golden, coiling ornament on my upper left arm, slave bells tied on my left ankle. I knelt there, ready to serve. How strange it was, I thought. How far I had come! How far away, now, seemed the perfume counter in the department store on Long Island, the photographer's studio, my apartment. I remembered that pretty, mercenary, greedy little clerk at the perfume counter. She was no longer free. She had now been made a collared slave girl. She had once been Miss Tiffany Collins. She was now an animal, and nameless in her own right, but masters had seen fit to put the name "Tiffany" on her.

"Tiffany," whispered Emily.

"Yes," I whispered.

"Isn't Aemilianus handsome?" she whispered.

"Yes," I said.

"I want to crawl to him," she whispered, "and beg to serve his pleasure." "Do not break position," I warned her.

"No," she whispered.

"Perhaps he will let you serve him later," I said.

"I hope so," she whispered. "I hope so!"

"You like him," I observed.

"I think that I am his love slave," she whispered.

"It is too early for you to know something like that," I said. I did not know, of course, whether it was or not. Sometimes these things can be told at a glance.

"I want him to whip me," she said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because I love him," she said.

Then, at a glance from Teela, across the room, we were both quiet.

I was somewhat upset. The men had had, on the whole, a very decorous supper. I had thought, given our garb and bells, that we might have been expected to serve in more exacting and intimate fashions than we had been called upon to do. The supper, on the other hand, had apparently been a rather normal one. To be sure, the men, being men, and no free women being present, had had the supper, for their pleasure, served to them by beautiful, revealingly clad women, collared slaves.

I glanced over at Emily. She could not keep her eyes off Aemilianus.

Some women desire occasionally, or at least once, to be whipped by the man they love. This has to do, it seems, with deep psychological feelings, feelings probably connected with the woman's desire to submit and fulfill her biological destiny, "this perhaps being a manifestation, within the human species, of the dominance/submission ratios endemic in nature. This involves, of course, an intense sentient interaction with the lover. Intense emotions, sensations and feelings are involved. In this situation the woman, who desires to surrender and yield, understands that she is now at the mercy of the lover, and is helpless under his will. It gives her an opportunity, too, of course, to show the lover that she, in her love, and in the intensity of her feelings, offers herself up to him.

I had once been Tiffany Collins, of Earth. I was now a collared slave girl on Gor. I touched the collar. It was light, but, too, it was efficient and inflexible. I supposed it would not do to tell anyone but I loved it on me. I felt, somehow, it belonged on me. It was right, I felt, somehow, on me. But, too, sometimes I was terrified to wear it. I knew that it meant that I was owned, and at the mercy of men.

I knelt there. I was no longer free. I could now be bought and sold. I must obey.

My major fear now was that I might be sent back the Mill. I, and, indeed, the other girls, had been given little or no Opportunity to prove to the masters that the slave bells tied on our ankles were not an inadvertence or a mistake. At various times during the supper I had tried to be attentive to one man or another, and as a slave, and as my belly had seemed to beg, but, each time, I had been brushed away or dismissed.

I had been rejected. This stung my vanity, as well as increased the frustrations of my scorned femininity. I feared, too, it betokened that I, perhaps found insufficiently pleasing, might soon be returned to the mill.

I watched the men, talking, and finishing their liqueurs. I watched, too, the one or two girls still in attendance on them.

They were beautiful, in their grace and serving. How perfect and natural it seemed that they should be serving. I touched my collar. Women by nature belong to men, I thought, and I am a woman. Why had men on Earth, I wondered, allowed themselves to be tricked out of their sovereignty by man-hating and vicious women, abetted by frustrated, weakling males? When will they take us again in hand, I wondered, and own us? But the men, on Earth, with few exceptions, I feared, were lost to manhood.

Teela came and knelt down beside us, only another slave girl.

"May I speak?" I whispered.

"Yes," she said.

"I have tried to be attractive," I said. "I have tried to be desirable. I have tried to serve well. But no one has taken me. No one has used me."

"No one has been taken. No one has been raped," she said.

"The men talk politics and business."

"May I inquire as to the nature of these discussions?" I asked.

"The usual rumors about a truce between ourselves and Cos," she said. "In business, the master is sounding out his colleagues about the plausibility of a venture involving feast slaves."

"What are they?" I asked.

"Girls, maids, entertainers, dancers, rented in groups to private individuals or organizations for feasts, and such," she said.

"Such enterprises exist now, do they not?" I asked.

"He is considering the desirability of investing in the area, and perhaps forming his own company to enter the field."

"I see," I said. "But trained girls are expensive, are they not?" "Yes," she said.

"But mill girls are cheap, and might be trained," I said.

"Precisely," said Teela.

I trembled.

"Emily! Tiffany!" called Aemilianus, sitting behind the long, low table, with his friends.

We quickly leapt up and ran to kneel on the tiles before him.

"These are mill girls?" asked a man.

"Yes," said Aemilianus, "but now, as you can see, they are not in the company uniform."

"Some silk, some cosmetics, makes quite a difference," said a man.

"They cost me only twelve copper tarsks each," said Aemilianus.

"But that is scarcely fair, Aemilianus," said a man. "You purchased them from your. uncle's mill. Had you bought them in an open market they doubtless would have cost you more."

"something more, doubtless," said Aemilianus.

"It is nice to know that such girls occasionally come to the mills," said a man. "I see that I shall have to make more inspections of uncle's mills," said another young man, one who, I gathered, must be a cousin of Aemilianus.

"It is not that rare, actually," said Aemilianus. "Too, remember there are several mills. Too, almost any girl, with the proper diet, exercise and training, and properly costumed and made-up, and knowing herself subject to the whip, can become of considerable interest."

"That is true," said a man.

"Pausanias, who is the mill master in Mill 7," said Aemilianus, "has informed me that, in his opinion, there are many lovely girls even in Mill 7."