I had not known that a man could desire a woman so much. Yet he kept me as a slave!

Perhaps it is only a slave who can be so bought and sold, and so desired.

Oh, the indescribable, incredible feeling of being owned, literally owned, by a man!

I knelt, a slave ready for punishment.

"Master is far too generous," said the auctioneer. "This is far more than the slave is worth."

"You are right," said Clitus Vitellius.

I shook with fury, but did not break the position.

"Give me the next then, too, on your chain," he said.

"No!" I cried.

He turned to face me, and, again, I swiftly lowered my head. Could he truly mean to keep me as a slave? Could he truly be that strong? I could not believe it.

"Gladly," cried the auctioneer. "Ninety-two," he cried.

The virginal girl, slender, sweetly shouldered, lovely legged, terrified, crept to the surface of the block. The bit of fluff clung about her. It did not much conceal her. Her legs were well exposed to the inspection of masters, and the sweetness of her breasts was evident, it but scarcely concealed in the wafting of insinuative, tantalizing fluff.

The crowd roared its approval, and she shrank back on the block. I wondered what men saw in her. She was herself only a bit of fluff, to rape and serve.

"Come here," said Clitus Vitellius to the girl.

Swiftly she fled to him, to stand before him.

"Position," he snapped.

She dropped to her knees before him, in the position of the pleasure slave.

"Get your back straighter," he said. She did so.

He crouched beside her and, with his belt knife, cut away the strings which held the fluff about her. It floated to the surface of the block, stirring in the slight movements of air.

He regarded the girl. He then looked, too, to me. "I will take both," he said.

"Master!" I cried in protest.

Then he stood over me, with the whip.

I looked up into his eyes. Then I was frightened. I saw that he was a Gorean master. However much he might hold me in regard, however much he might desire me, I saw that I could be to him only a helpless slave girl. Whatever might be his feelings for me I saw that he would have me only at his feet as a slave. I would be uncompromisingly owned. He would have all, fully, from me. I would not be permitted to hold anything back, ever. He would be master, and I slave. No longer did I dare to suggest that I might be freed. No longer did I dare to think it. He was Gorean.

I put my head down, kneeling to the whip.

"Forgive me, Master," I whispered.

"Once this evening," said he, "you, a slave, addressed me by my name, rather than as 'Master. "

"Forgive me, Master," I said. I trembled. I recalled I had cried out, "I love you, Clitus Vitellius!" How foolish I had been. It was a girl's mistake. It would not go unnoticed.

"Too," he said, "more than once this evening you have spoken without permission."

"Yes, Master," I said.

"Too," said he, "I think you dared to protest this evening my purchase of a girl."

I had indeed done so!

"Do you oppose your will to mine, or question my will in the least?" he asked.

"No, Master," I said.

"Do you think me an easy master?" he asked.

"No, Master," I said.

"Do you beg now to be punished?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," I said. "I beg to be punished."

I saw him grip the slave whip on the long handle with two hands. I put down my head. further, I shut my eyes, I tightened my body, I clenched my fists, held crossed, as though bound, beneath my body.

I determined to hold position.

I heard the swift sound of the leather in flight… Never had I heard it approach so swiftly. After the fourth blow I could no longer hold position. "Tie me at the slave ring," I begged. "Put me at a post, Master!" I lay on the block on my stomach, my hands over my bead. There was sawdust on my lips and face. I could not, after the second blow, scream. Yet he struck me only ten times. I cried, lying on the block, punished. I felt him thrust a steel collar about my throat, and lock it.

I was collared. He had not been angry with me. He had only been punishing me. I had deserved a whipping. He had given it to me.

Yet it is hard for a girl to grow used to the leather. One can be a slave for years and still fear it. The Gorean master uses it unhesitantly if we are not pleasing. We know that he will do so. We are pleasing.

Clitus Vitellius had turned to the slender, virginal girl. "Do you wish to be in the least troublesome?" he asked her, lifting the whip, laughing.

"No, Master!" she cried.

He collared her, as he had done me. We both wore his collar. He knelt us together. "I submit, fully, Master," I said. "I submit, fully, Master," said the virginal girl, quickly, following my example.

The slave whip lay to one side.

"We have surely delayed the sales of the Curulean too long," said Clitus Vitellius, to the auctioneer.

The auctioneer bowed, the pouch of gold in his hand.

"Come, Slaves," said Clitus Vitellius to the two of us, naked in his collar.

He lifted his shield and took up his spear, and then descended the steps of the great block. We followed him. He ascended the long aisle leading from the hall. Men cried out his name, and cheered, and smote their left shoulders, as he passed them. He strode as a Warrior. We hurried after him, his slave girls.

"Will he march us through the streets naked?" asked the virginal girl.

"He will do with us as he pleases," I told her. "He is a Warrior"

29

A Warrior's Vengeance; The Furs Of My Master

We were but four bridges from the Towers of the Warriors when Clitus Vitellius turned suddenly, regarding me. I stopped, suddenly, naked, behind him, where I was heeling him. The virginal girl, too, stopped suddenly. But he did not look at her. He approached me. He stood before me, his shield on his left arm, the mighty spear grasped in his right hand. Immediately I trembled, and knelt, head down.

"Oh!" cried the virginal girl. He, placing the spear and shield to one side, had moved to her and was tying her hands behind her back. He fastened her by the wrists to a ring at the foot of the Four Lamps bridge. Such rings arecommon in Gorean cities, in public places, and serve the convenience of masters in tethering their slaves. The ring was mounted on a post, about a yard high. She stood at the post, naked, tethered there, her hands fastened behind her back, at the foot of the Four Lamps bridge. I could see the lights of glorious Ar. The light of one lamp was upon her. She was very beautiful. "Master?" she begged.

He took a blunt marking stick from his pouch and wrote Gorean words on her left shoulder.

He then, to her amazement, and mine, removed his collar from her throat.

"Master?" she sobbed.

He replaced the collar and marking stick in his pouch. "Can you read?" he asked her.

"Yes," she said.

"Read then what I have inscribed upon your body," said he.

"I cannot well see it, Master," she said. "But from the feel of it in my flesh, I know what you have written."

"Speak it aloud," said he, "Slave."

"You have written 'Collar me. Own me, " she said.

"Yes," he said.

"You are leaving me here for the first stranger who passes, Master?" she asked.

"Do you object, Slave?" he asked.

"No, Master!" she said, drawing back. The point of the spear, which Clitus Vitellius had now retrieved, was at her throat.

I then felt the point of the spear in my back. "On your feet, Slave," he said.

Swiftly I rose to my feet.

He then strode past me, and began the crossing of the bridge of Four Lamps. I hastened to follow him, heeling him obediently. I did turn, on the crest of the bridge, to look back at the tethered girl. The area at the foot of the bridge was deserted. It was late. She seemed very much alone there, naked, the light of the lamp on her, tethered, waiting for the first individual who might chance by.