I loved the tiny garment! It was the first that I had had since I had come to Gor. In it much of me was still bared, my legs, my hips to the waist, my shoulders, and so on, and it left little doubt about the lineaments of my form, but I loved it. No longer was I absolutely and starkly naked, save for a metal collar. I adjusted the strap on my right shoulder. The small, soft, rounded shoulders of a woman, incidentally, like the rest of a female, Gorean men tend to find very provocative. They seem to relish, and respond to, perhaps to a much greater extent than many of the men of Earth, the entire woman. they are likely to find exciting even such small details of a woman as her delicate ear lobes. That perhaps explains, at least in part, the momentousness of ear piercing to Goreans, which those of Earth take so much for granted. To the Gorean, the piercing of the woman" s ear, with its analog of penetration, and the fixing in it of earrings, chosen by the master, ornamenting her for his pleasure, is an act of power and claimancy scarcely less significant than her branding and collaring. Free women, incidentally, seldom, if ever, bare their shoulders. Doing so is almost like offering themselves for the collar. "If you would be stripped as a slave, then be a slave," it is said. Similarly free women on Gor seldom, if ever, wear earrings, either of the natural or of any other variety, such as the clip variety. Earrings are regarded as being fit, rather, for slaves, and usually the lowest of slaves. Nose rings, interestingly, are not regarded in the same light. They are worn even by some free women, I understand, in the far south, the women of the Wagon Peoples there, as well as, generally, by the female slaves of such peoples. In short, Gorean men seem to find the whole woman exciting. To be sure, the shoulders, for example, lead to the delicious curvatures of the breasts, those, too, the property of the master, and thence to the waist and belly, and thighs, and the slave" s helpless, delicate intimacies. The ear lobes, too, lead to the throat, and thence, beneath the collar, to the shoulders, and so on. Similarly, the foot leads to the ankle, and that to the lusciously rounded calf, and that upward to the thighs, and those, again, in their lovely softness, to the girl" s exposed, hot, open, helpless, delicate intimacies. It is not unusual for a Gorean male, in his zest for females, to cover her entire body, bit by bit, with kisses and caresses, moving toward her helplessness. It is not easy to prevent these attentions, either, as you may well imagine, when you have been simply chained down for his pleasure. Sometimes you scream for him to hasten, begging him with every bit of your female helplessness to do so, but he, of course, will do as he pleases, for you belong to him or he has your use, and he is a free male, the master. I returned then to the foot of the dais, to stand there before Hendow, of the tavern of Hendow, on Dock Street, in Brundisium.

"You are very beautiful," he said.

"Thank you, Master," I said. I was elated that he had see fit to give me a garment. Too, he had said that I was beautiful. I wondered if he liked me. I wondered if I could use that, and possible manipulate him in some way. I decided I had better not try. He was not a man of Earth. He was a Gorean male.

"Yes," he said, "you are very beautiful."

I felt radiant. I did not think he would hurt me now. I did not know, though. The garment I wore, incidentally, was more modest, in its way, than the garment of red silk I had made for myself on Earth, that which Teibar had thrust in my mouth in the library, showing me that I was forbidden to speak. He had withdrawn it from my mouth only on the library table, when I had lain there before him on my back, before he had put the conical rubberized mask over my face, introducing the chemicals into it which had forced me to lose consciousness, a consciousness I had regained only on Gor, awakening to the blows of his whip.

"Do you like the garment?" he asked.

"Yes, Maser!" I said. "Yes, Master!"

"Take it off," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said, tears in my eyes. I stood then before him again, absolutely and starkly naked, except for a metal collar. I clutched the tiny garment in my hand. He could give me such a garment. He could take it away. I must put it on at his command. I must remove it at his command. I was his. Hendow, of the Tavern of Hendow, on Dock Street, in Brundisium, rose from the great chair. He stood on the dais, looming over me. In his hand he held the whip. I looked at the instrument of discipline, frightened.

He then descended from the dais, and stood near me. I looked straight ahead, clutching the tiny garment. He was huge, next to me. I felt very tiny. He put the coils of the whip under my chin, and pressed up a little. I held my chin up. the nearness of his presence, and his virile, brutish masculinity made me terribly uneasy.

"What is your name," he asked.

"Whatever Master pleases," I said, quickly.

I had not yet been named in this house. The words «slut» or «slave» served well enough to summon me. I trembled. I realized I might, in a moment, be named. They that would be who I would be, as simply are that, like any animal. "Come here," he said, "and lie down, on your back, on this step." He had indicated the second step leading to the height of the dais. I complied. "Place your left foot on the first step," he said, "and put your right foot her, on the third step."

I did so. This opened my legs.

"Now," he said, "put your arms back, over your head."

"Yes, Master," I said.

"That exposes your armpits," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said, puzzled.

He looked down at me. "What were you called in the house of your training?" he asked.

"Doreen," I said.

"Very well," he said, "you are Doreen."

"Thank you, Master," I said, named. This had been my name on Earth. I wore it now, of course, only as a slave name. It could have been anything.

"Doreen," he said.

"Yes, Maser," I said, responding to my name.

"You are now to lie as you are," he said, "until you receive permission to change your position. You are to lie in this position, and very quietly. If you do not, it will be extremely dangerous for you. In particular, make no sudden moves."

"Yes, Master," I said, puzzled.

He then went to the side of the room, where there dangled three or four cords. I lifted my head a little to watch him. he drew on one of these cords. I saw a panel lift in the wall. It exposed a low opening, only about a yard in height. It was dark within this portal, but I saw, it stretching backwards, what appeared to be a low, dark tunnel. He then came back, and crouched down, near me, above me, on the third step.

He put his whip aside, near him. He put his hand gently on my collar.

"Master?" I asked.

"Be quiet," he said.

I lay there, quietly. Then, suddenly, I felt hair on the back of my neck rising. "Maser!" I said.

"Lie quietly," he said.

I could now hear, from some distance down the tunnel, the sound of something approaching. It was coming rapidly. I heard snuffling noise. I heard panting. I could hear claws on the floor of the tunnel.

"Lie quietly," cautioned my master, literally holding me in place, his hand gripping my collar.

Then something burst into the room.

Half choking, my head was forced back down, by the collar.

"If you want, keep your eyes closed," he said.

Whatever it was had apparently stopped just within the room.

"It will take a moment for its eyes to adjust to the light," he said. "But it is done very quickly."

The room was not brightly lit.

"I think you will like Borko," he said.

"What is it?" I whispered. My head was held down, back on the second step. "Keep you legs apart," he said. "It is a gray sleen. I raised it from a whelp. Ah, greetings, Borko! How are you, old fellow?"