I looked up at him.

"Yes" he said.

"We are to remain, then, full paga slaves," I said.

"Yes, though now, at least occasionally, silked," he said.

"I understand, Master," I said.

"The only difference," he said, "is that such silk may now be pulled away by the master, or discarded instantly, upon command, by the slave."

"Yes, Master," I smiled. We were still to be hot, and ready, paga slaves, eager to serve, and fully, the silk no more than an invitation to its removal. This was not much different, incidentally, than what was the case in even the most prestigious paga taverns. In such places free women were generally not permitted. In them, usually, the only women to be found would be collared slaves, generally belonging either to the tavern keeper or the guests, who may have brought them in, to avail themselves of the facilities of the alcoves. In such places, the mastery was practiced. Such places, regardless of their cost, their location, their appointments, the excellence of their food and drink, the beauty of their slaves, the quality of their music, existed, as did the tavern of Hendow, for the pleasures of men. That was the purpose of such places, whether they were within lofty towers, reached by graceful bridges, or near the wharves, close enough to hear the tide lapping at the pilings, whether they had a dozen musicians or only a single, dissolute czehar player, alone with his music, whether the girls were richly silked or stark naked, save for brands and collars, whether there were chains of gold and luxurious furs in the alcoves or only wire and straw mats. They were paga slaves.

"But perhaps we should make an exception in your case," he said.

"Master?" I asked.

"Perhaps it is better if we do not let them know that Doreen, the dancer, is such a hot slave."

I looked at him, frightened.

"If she seems more prideful, colder, more haughty and aloof, perhaps it will be better for the tavern, as the fellows may look forward them to commanding her in an alcove, melting her defenses, and then, she now abjectly tamed, turning her into only another squeaking, writhing paga slut."

"It will be done with me as Masters please," I said. "But am I commanded to attempt to conceal my passion?"

"No," he said. "You are not that kind of dancer. You are too beautiful, and needful. You must be as you are, vulnerable, hot and marvelous."

"Thank you, Master," I said. "Once more you sport with a slave." "Do you mind?" he asked.

"No, Master," I said. As if it mattered what a slave might mind!

He smiled.

"It is only another way in which you toy with me," I said.

"Are you still hot?" he inquired.

"Yes!" I said.

"Do you still beg?" he inquired.

"Yes, yes yes!" I said.

"Then," said he, "I think we may now send you to your kennel, in a belly chain, its lock at your navel, your hands braceleted closely behind you, to the chain." "Please, no, Master!" I wept.

But he was then crouching before me, and had swept me into his arms. My head was back, my eyes closed. His strength was overwhelming. I felt my softness lost somehow within that embrace. "Unbind me," I begged. "Let me hold you!" "No," he muttered, his voice thick with the wanting of me.

I must try to keep my hands together behind my back!

Then he put me to my back, and not gently, on the tiles in the passageway, near the beaded curtain. My body leapt to him and closed gratefully about him. I was joyful, held. I was collared. Tomorrow my back would be bruised from the tiles. I cried out, knowing the bliss of bondage.

"It is time you were taught submission," he said.

"I submit!" I said. "I submit!"

"You are unbound," he said.

Swiftly I pulled my hands free and grasped him.

"You are an incredible pleasure slave," he said.

"Master!" I wept.

"You need only this world, and the collar to bring it out," he said. "Yes," I whispered to him. "Please, please."

I was enraptured, as a female, and a slave.

"Master!" I cried, softly.

"So the female of Earth now calls men Master," he said.

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

Of course I would call me "Master!" They were my masters, and not only in the order of nature, but here, too, in the order of law.

I felt overwhelmed in his arms, and could not believe the feelings I felt. I uttered a tiny, plaintive cry, asking for a little respite, for a moment of mercy.

It was granted to me.

I looked at Mirus. I had always wanted, even on Earth, thought I had feared it, too, to be at the mercy of men so powerful, so magnificent and commanding, that in relation to them I could, in all right, justice and propriety, be only a slave. Then I had been brought to Gor, where I had found such me, and, too, had found myself in a collar, theirs.

I moaned softly. Then I said, "Oh," startled.

"Perhaps you are ready, Earth woman," he said, "for a slave orgasm." "Master?" I asked.

"You have a responsive body," he said. "Thus, even thought you have not been a slave long, it is possible you are ready for such an orgasm."

"Yes, Master," I said.

I was trying, wildly, to recollect that feeling, that hint of feeling, which I had just felt.

How could he have done that to me? How could anyone have done that to me? "Are you listening?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," I said. I tried to pry myself loose from my sensations, but it was not easy, locked as I was in his arms.

"I think you might be ready for your first slave orgasm," he said.

"I do not understand, Master," I said.

"It is time, I think, that you made a beginning in such things."

"Yes, Master," I whimpered. "Ai!" I suddenly said. "Oh!"

It had been done again to me.

I looked at him, wildly.

"No," he said. "You will not be shown mercy."

I moaned.

"It is pleasant to hold you in my arms," he said.

(pg 248) "Find me pleasing," I begged. "Please, find me pleasing!" I did not want him to stop, for anything.

"You are not without interest," he said.

I cried out, softly. I began to whimper.

"Is anything wrong?" he asked.

"No, no!" I said.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked.

"No!" I said.

"No, what?" he inquired, politely.

"No, Master, Master, Master!" I sobbed. "Forgive me, Master!"

I cried out, startled. I began to make soft, helpless noises.

As I had noted before, as early as the house of my training, women of diverse backgrounds, for example, those of Earth and Gor, make much the same noises while being ravished. These noises are to be distinguished from conventional exclamations, which do tend to be culture bound. I had discovered, too, that I made such noises.

"Oh!" I said, softly.

Suddenly I clutched him. I had again felt the sensation. Then I was afraid. "Master!" I said.

"Do not be afraid," he said. "Your body is being honed, and trained." I clutched him again, and gasped.

"Yes," he said, "you will give masters much pleasure."

Masters, I thought? Does he not know what he is doing to me! Can he be ignorant of the thinks I myself was feeling?

"You will do well," he said. "You are a deliciously servile little beast." "It is my hope that I will be pleasing to masters," I said. Did he not know what he was making me feel?

"I think you are now ready for the first of your slave orgasms," he said. "Master?" I asked.

"Inducing them in a slave is one of the pleasures of the mastery," he said. "Forgive me, Master," I said. "You are giving me great pleasure. But I do not even know what you are talking about."

"At first," he said, "you will be capable of only small ones, but do not fear, you will grow in such things."

"I do not understand," I said.

"You are very beautiful, and soft, and are in my arms," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said. I was grateful that he should speak in so kindly a fashion to me.