"I understand," she said.

"This is the sense in which she knows that anything can be done with her, that she might even be killed."

"I understand," she said.

"Without this," I said, "her slavery would be incomplete. She would not be a total slave."

"That is true," she whispered.

"Most simply put," I said, "she belongs to the master, fully, totally." "I understand," she said.

"So let us now return to your residence," I said.

"I could accept that risk," she said. "It would be part of my fulfillment. Indeed, without it, I could not truly, fully, belong to him."

"You are so confident of your ability to please?" I asked.

"I am confident of my ability to try desperately to please," she said. "We must be on our way," I said, sitting up.

"Take me to a slaver's," she said.

"No," I said.

"Are you a true man?" she said, petulantly, rising up on her knees.

I regarded her.

"Are you?" she challenged.

"You belong in a collar," I said.

"Take me to a slaver's!" she said. "See that I am put in one!"

I did not speak.

"Let it be such that I cannot remove it!" she said.

"It would be such, I assure you." I said.

"Take me to a slaver's!" she said.

"No," I said.

"Are you afraid?" she asked.

"No," I said. "Look upon me," she said. "Am I not the sort of woman who might suitably be taken to a slaver's?"

"Yes," I admitted.

"Do so," she said.

"No," I said.

"Look," she said, but inches from me, as I sat there, observing her. She suddenly rose up a bit on her knees and thrust her belly forward, toward me. "There!" she said. "Would any but a slave do that?" she asked.

"No," I said. Perhaps it would have been better for her, I thought, if she had not done that. She was attractive.

"Take me then to a slaver's," she said.

"No," I said.

"You are no true man!" she said.

I then stood up before her. She looked up at me puzzled, I then, after regarding her for a time, suddenly with the back of my hand, struck her fiercely back from the mat, she twisting and falling back, flung to the side from her knees, almost half on her feet for an instant, then losing her balance, then falling back into the trash at the side of the wall. She, from the midst of the garbage, half on her side, looked at me wildly, her hand at her mouth, blood between her fingers. I pointed to the mat. "Here," I said. "Kneel."

She hastened back to the mat and knelt before me. She looked up at me in wonder, blood at her mouth. She had been cuffed. "Did you strike me because I challenged your manhood?" she asked. "I did not really mean it. It is only that I was terribly angry. I did not think.

"You were not struck for such an absurd reason," I said.

"You are after all, a free woman, and free women are entitled to insult, and to attempt to demean and destroy men. It is one of their freedoms, unless men of course, should decide to take it from them. You were struck, rather, because you were attempting to manipulate me."

She nodded, putting her head down.

"Do you recognize your guilt, and the suitability of your punishment?" I asked. "Yes," she said. "Also," I said, "I would not, if I were a free woman, go about moving like that before men."

"But I am not really a free woman," she whispered.

"You are at this time in your life," I said, "legally free. Do not forget it." "Yes," she said, "a€”Master."

"Do not call me "Master, I said. "That is for slaves."

"Yes, Master," she said.

"You seem to have a curiosity as to the slave experience," I said.

"I am a slave," she said. "It is only natural that I would have some curiosity about what it is to be a slave." She put down her head. She wiped some of the blood from her mouth.

"You have no idea," I said, "about what it is like, truly, to be a slave." She did not respond.

"Perhaps I can change your mind about its desirability," I said.

"Master?" she asked.

I then took her by the hair and, twisting her about, as she cried out, flung her forcibly, on her back, on the mat. I then, ruthlessly, angrily, swiftly, caring nothing for her feelings or sensibilities, exploiting her, employing her for my pleasure. I then, in a moment or two, stood up beside her, and rolled her to her side, spurning her, with my foot. She lay there on the mat, gasping, her legs drawn up.

"So," I asked, "Free Woman, what do you think?"

She turned about and looked up at me, through her hair.

"It is thus that a slave may be used," I said.

She looked up at me. In her eyes there were tears.

"How did you like it?" I laughed.

She went to her belly and reached for my foot. She put her lips over it and kissed it tenderly. Then she looked up at me, again, her hair about her face. "I loved it," she said.

I cried out with rage, and pulled my foot away from her.

"Put on your garment," I told her, angrily.

"Yes, Master," she said. In a bit she had donned the brief leather garment. It amazed me that it could take her so long to get into so little. To be sure, she had had to smooth it out, and had not been hurrying. She looked down at the garment, now on her. She pulled down a bit at the sides. "It is not very large, is it?" she said.

"No," I said.

"But I suppose," she said, "if I were a slave, I might be given things much less than this to wear, and things far more revealing."

"Quite possibly," I said. I saw no point in telling her that that was almost a certainty.

"But I am a free woman," she smiled. She looked down at the garment, ruefully. "Are you really going to take me through the streets in this?"

"Yes," I said. "I certainly have no intention of buying you a new outfit." She laughed. "No," she said. "I suppose not." She looked at me. "Clad like this," she said, "I suppose I should heel you."

"No," I said.

"You will permit me to walk beside you, as a free woman, though I am clad so shamelessly?" she asked.

"No," I said.

"You are not going to accompany me then?" she asked, disappointed.

"I will come with you," I said.

"I do not understand," she said.

"You will precede me," I said.

"Of course," she laughed. "You do not know the way."

"Of course," I said.

"I have seen masters walking their girls before them in the streets," she laughed. "Doubtless they enjoy seeing them walk before them."

"Doubtless," I said.

"That is your reason, isn't it?" she laughed. "Yes," I said.

"You do find me attractive, don't you?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"I will try to walk well before you, Master," she smiled.

"Do not call me Master," I said.

"Yes, Master," she smiled.

"Let us go," I said.

"I will never forget this place," she said. "It was here I became a woman, and learned my slavery."

"Let us go," I said.

"Take me to a slaver's," she said.

"No," I said.

"Shall I now precede my Master?" she asked.

"You may precede me," I said.

She then preceded me from the back passage, into the larger passage, running between the buildings, leading to the Avenue of Turia. She did walk well. I wondered why I had decided to accompany her to her dwelling. I was not certain about the matter. Surely she could have found her way there safely, and particularly now, in the full daylight. I did have extra binding fiber in my pouch.

On the Avenue of Turia, to the left, we saw a small crowd. "Wait," I said. "Let us investigate that." We went a bit closer. Then, between people, we saw the hostess from the Tunnels. She was still on her knees, tied to the slave ring. Though it must have been the tenth Ahn, she had not yet been released. Her head was down. Much, I gathered, had she been suitably mocked. "Look, Mother," said a child. "She is naked!"

"Come away," said the mother.