In other cities, and in most cities, on the other hand, a free woman may, with legal tolerance, submit herself as a slave to a specific man. If he refuses her, she is then still free. If he accepts her, she is then, categorically, a slave, and he may do with her as he pleases, even selling her or giving her away, or slaying her, if he wishes. Here we might note a distinction between laws and codes. In the codes of the warriors, if a warrior accepts a woman as a slave, it is prescribed that, at least for a time, an amount of time up to his discretion, she be spared. If she should be the least bit displeasing, of course, or should prove recalcitrant in even a tiny way, she may be immediately disposed of.

It should be noted that this does not place a legal obligation on the warrior. It has to do, rather, with the proprieties of the codes. If a woman not within a clear context of rights, such as capture rights, house rights, or camp rights, should pronounce herself slave, simpliciter, then she is subject to claim. These claims may be explicit, as in branding, binding and collaring, or as in the uttering of a claimancy formula, such as "I own you," "You are mine," or "You are my slave," or implicit, as in, for example, permitting the slave to feed from your hand or follow you.

"Dance, fool!" cried one of the slave girls to the former Lady Rowena of Lydius.

"See the free woman!" laughed one of the slaves. "It is the sleen for her," said another.

"Please men!" cried another. "What do you think you are for?"

"Like this!" cried a brunette, leaping away from the tables to the tiles, tearing away her silk.

"Do not interfere," warned a man. The brunette, terrified, seized up her silk, and shrank back behind the tables, into the shadows, where, huddled, knelt the other slaves.

She who had been the Lady Rowena fell sobbing to her knees, helpless on the tiles, covering her face with her hands. The music stopped.

"You are cruel, all or you!" cried out Linda, the blond Earth-girl slave of Samos, springing to her feet. All eyes turned towards her. "You put us in collars! You take away our clothes! You make us serve you! You do with us as you please!" She looked beautiful, in her brief tunic, barefoot, her body filled with passion, her small fists clenched, in her collar.

"And you love it!" laughed a man.

"Yes!" she cried. "I love it! You cannot know how I love it! I come from a world where there are almost no true men, a world where manhood is almost educated and conditioned out of existence. I come from a world of love-starved women. I did not know what true men were until I came to Gor, and was put in a collar! Here I am disciplined and trained, here I am owned and fulfilled! Here I am happy! I pity even my free sisters of Gor, who are so far above me, for they cannot know the overwhelming joys and fulfillments which are mine, and I pity a thousand times more my miserable free sisters of Earth, so far away, longing for their collars and masters!"

There was silence. She hurried to the side of the girl kneeling on the tiles. She crouched beside her, putting her arm about her shoulders. She then looked at us. "But this is only a poor slave," she said. "She is ne2 to her condition. She is trying to please. It is just that she does not yet know how. Please be kind to her. Give her some time. Let her learn. Is she not beautiful? Do you not think she could learn to be pleasing? Show her mercy!"

It was then again silent.

Numbly, Linda rose to her feet and walked back about the tables. She knelt behind our table, her head down.

"With your permission," I said to Samos. I rose to my feet and went to the girl, now prone, red-eyed, on the tiles. I crouched down beside her.

"Oh!" she cried.

I turned her over, handling her with authority, as a slave is handled.

She looked up at me.

Never before, doubtless, had she been handled like this. "Her face is beautiful," I said, "her body is curvaceous, her limbs are fair. It seems she should bring a good price."

She gasped, appraised as a female.

"But what is inside a woman is more important," said a man.

"That is true," I said. Some of the most succulent and exciting slaves I had known were, I suppose, at least compared with some of their sisters in bondage, comparatively plain in appearance. Such women constitute marvelous bargains in a slave market. They cost far less than m any of their higher-priced sisters and yet, in the long run, are worth far more. Many men, upon returning home, thinking they have bought an average girl within their means, discover instead, to their delight, that they have purchased a dream. To be sure, the matter is complicated. Slavery, for example, marvelously, subtly, tends to bring out the beauty in a woman. Many women, after a year or two in bondage, become so beautiful that they can double or triple their price.

"Men desire women," I told her.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"And you belong to that sex," I said, "which is maddeningly, exquisitely desirable."

"Yes, Master," she said.

And you are," I said, "I think, objectively, a beautiful member of that sex."

"Thank you, Master," she whispered.

"It therefore seems not inconceivable that men might find you desirable."

"Yes, Master," she whispered.

"Does that please you?" I asked.

"It terrifies me," she said.

"Do you have normal feelings toward men?" I asked.

"I think so, Master," she said.

"Now that you are a slave," I said, "it is not only permissible for you to yield to these feelings, but you must do so."

"Master!" she whispered.

"Yes," I said, "for you are now a slave."

"Yes, Master," she whispered, shuddering.

"That makes quite a difference, doesn't it?" I asked.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"She does not have slave reflexes," said a man.

I pulled her by the hair up to a sitting position, and then, by the hair, bent her head back.

"Oh!" she winced.

"Keep the palms of your hands on the tiles," I said. She did so. Her knees were slightly flexed.

"Oh! Oh!" she cried suddenly.

"Keep your palms on the tiles," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said. "Yes, Master!"

"She does have slave reflexes," I reported.

"Yes," said the man.

"Yes," said another man.

"Are men now of greater interest to you?" I asked.

"yes, Master!" she said.

"We are now going to put these things together," I said. "First, you are an exquisitely desirable woman. You are the sort of woman who could drive a man mad with passion. You are the sort of woman to possess whom men might kill. Furthermore, your beauty and desirability is increased a thousandfold because you are a property girl, a slave."

"Yes, Master," she whispered. "Oh, Master!"

"Men are now of even greater interest to you, are they not?" I asked.

"yes, Master!" she wept.

"Keep the palms of your hands on the floor," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"That handles things from the point of view of the man," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Now," I said, "second, let us consider things from the point of view of the woman, from your point of view."

"Master!" she cried.

"Keep the palms of your hands on the floor," I said.

"Yes, Master," she whimpered.

"As a slave," I said, "it is not only permissible for you to yield to your deepest, most stirring, most primitive, most overwhelmingly feminine urges but you must do so, shamelessly, unqualifiedly, completely."

"Yes, Master," she cried, and thrust herself suddenly, piteously, against my hand.

I then, by the hair, pulled her about and threw her lengthwise, prone, to the tiles.

She looked up at me, over her shoulder. I saw wildness in her eyes. I saw that she had begun to sense what it might be to be an aroused slave.