by one of the cage attendants. I saw the snug fit of the steel on her throat. It was incredibly exciting. She could not remove it. Then, sweating, getting a grip on myself, hurriedly, fumbling, I thrust the tiny key into the lock.
"Master?" she asked, frightened
"Do not call me 'Master'!" I said, almost shouting. My voice choked.
Men looked at us.
I turned the key and opened the tiny, heavy, single-action, seven-bolt lock on the collar. Each of the bolts is said to stand for one of the letters in the spelling of `Kajira', the most common Gorean expression for a slave girl.
"Where is your collar for me?" she asked.
"I have no collar for you," I said.
"Master?" she asked.
"Do not call me 'Master'!" I said.
"Yes, Master," she said. "I mean 'Yes, Jason!' "
I put my hands on the collar, to tear it from her throat. But she clutched at the collar, holding it on her throat.
"Master?" she asked. "Jason?"
"You are a woman of Earth," I said. "You know how to behave and act."
"I do not understand," she said.
"Do not speak to me of pleasing me," I Said. "Do not speak to me of obeying me or serving me."
"But I am a slave," she said, "and you own me!"
"No," I said.
"I am branded," she said.
"It is nothing," I said.
"Be a girl, and wear a brand," she said, "and you will see if it is nothing!"
"It is not your fault that you are branded," I said.
"But it is the fault of men," she said, "and I am nonetheless branded!"
I went to pull the collar from her throat and, again, her small hands tightened on it.
"You own me," she said. "What are you going to do with me?"
"Free you," I said. "I will give you what your heart most desires, your total liberation and freedom!"
She looked at me, aghast.
I pulled away the collar and flung it, the key in the lock, to the side.
"You do not want me," she whispered.
"Have no fear," I said. "I will not take advantage of you, nor abuse you, nor exploit you. You will be accorded all dignity and respect. In all things you will be my full and lovely equal." Then I realized I had made an error. "Excuse me," I said, "I did not mean to demean you. I did not mean to say `lovely'. You will be in all things, simply, and straightforwardly, my equal."
"How can a slave be the equal of her master?" she asked.
"You are free," I told her.
"I might have been bought by a Gorean man," she said, "one who might have treasured me, and cherished me, and made me serve him well, and used me richly."
"I have freed you," I said. "Are you not happy?" I asked, puzzled.
"I am naked," she said.
"Forgive me," I cried. Quickly I hurried to one of the cage attendants. For a tarsk bit I purchased one of the discarded sheets torn from the slave beauties who were still being sold from the block.
I hurried back to the girl and stood before her, the sheet in my hand. For the briefest instant I felt sick. She was so beautiful. Should I not have marched her through the streets of Victoria naked, an exhibited slave, for my own joy, that of her master, and that men might rejoice in her beauty and call out to me their congratulations, commending me on the splendid fortune that was mine, that of having such a woman in my total power?
"Please," she said.
I stepped more closely to her and, standing before her, held the sheet behind her, preparing to draw it about her.
"Do not look at me, you lustful beast," she said. "Cover me, quickly!"
Swiftly I drew the sheet about her and she, from within it, clutched it even more closely about herself. I could see, as she had gathered the sheet, the outline of her small fists beneath it.
"Do not look at my calves and ankles," she said, "please."
"Forgive me," I said. "Let us hurry from this place."
"Yes," she said, "it is offensive. I smell here the stinking of slaves.”
Quickly we left the sales barn of Lysander.
"Where do you live?" she asked.
"I have taken a small room, near the wharves," I said.
"I, too, will need a room," she said.
"I cannot afford much," I said.
"Then
"Master?" she asked, frightened
"Do not call me 'Master'!" I said, almost shouting. My voice choked.
Men looked at us.
I turned the key and opened the tiny, heavy, single-action, seven-bolt lock on the collar. Each of the bolts is said to stand for one of the letters in the spelling of `Kajira', the most common Gorean expression for a slave girl.
"Where is your collar for me?" she asked.
"I have no collar for you," I said.
"Master?" she asked.
"Do not call me 'Master'!" I said.
"Yes, Master," she said. "I mean 'Yes, Jason!' "
I put my hands on the collar, to tear it from her throat. But she clutched at the collar, holding it on her throat.
"Master?" she asked. "Jason?"
"You are a woman of Earth," I said. "You know how to behave and act."
"I do not understand," she said.
"Do not speak to me of pleasing me," I Said. "Do not speak to me of obeying me or serving me."
"But I am a slave," she said, "and you own me!"
"No," I said.
"I am branded," she said.
"It is nothing," I said.
"Be a girl, and wear a brand," she said, "and you will see if it is nothing!"
"It is not your fault that you are branded," I said.
"But it is the fault of men," she said, "and I am nonetheless branded!"
I went to pull the collar from her throat and, again, her small hands tightened on it.
"You own me," she said. "What are you going to do with me?"
"Free you," I said. "I will give you what your heart most desires, your total liberation and freedom!"
She looked at me, aghast.
I pulled away the collar and flung it, the key in the lock, to the side.
"You do not want me," she whispered.
"Have no fear," I said. "I will not take advantage of you, nor abuse you, nor exploit you. You will be accorded all dignity and respect. In all things you will be my full and lovely equal." Then I realized I had made an error. "Excuse me," I said, "I did not mean to demean you. I did not mean to say `lovely'. You will be in all things, simply, and straightforwardly, my equal."
"How can a slave be the equal of her master?" she asked.
"You are free," I told her.
"I might have been bought by a Gorean man," she said, "one who might have treasured me, and cherished me, and made me serve him well, and used me richly."
"I have freed you," I said. "Are you not happy?" I asked, puzzled.
"I am naked," she said.
"Forgive me," I cried. Quickly I hurried to one of the cage attendants. For a tarsk bit I purchased one of the discarded sheets torn from the slave beauties who were still being sold from the block.
I hurried back to the girl and stood before her, the sheet in my hand. For the briefest instant I felt sick. She was so beautiful. Should I not have marched her through the streets of Victoria naked, an exhibited slave, for my own joy, that of her master, and that men might rejoice in her beauty and call out to me their congratulations, commending me on the splendid fortune that was mine, that of having such a woman in my total power?
"Please," she said.
I stepped more closely to her and, standing before her, held the sheet behind her, preparing to draw it about her.
"Do not look at me, you lustful beast," she said. "Cover me, quickly!"
Swiftly I drew the sheet about her and she, from within it, clutched it even more closely about herself. I could see, as she had gathered the sheet, the outline of her small fists beneath it.
"Do not look at my calves and ankles," she said, "please."
"Forgive me," I said. "Let us hurry from this place."
"Yes," she said, "it is offensive. I smell here the stinking of slaves.”
Quickly we left the sales barn of Lysander.
"Where do you live?" she asked.
"I have taken a small room, near the wharves," I said.
"I, too, will need a room," she said.
"I cannot afford much," I said.
"Then
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