"Thurnus," said his companion.

He paid her no attention. It had been many years ago that she had followed him from the village of her father. It had all been many years ago. In the fashion of the peasants he kept her. She had grown slack and fat. She could no longer in honor return to the village of her brother.

I kept my lips pressed to Thurnus's cup. He drew the cup more closely to him. I must needs follow.

I knew he had girls he kept in a kennel.

Thurnus was a strong man, of the sort who must either have many women, or incredibly much from one woman. His companion, I supposed, was tio longer attractive to him, or, perhaps, in the prides of her freedom, was too remote to be much in his attention. It is easiest for a man to see a woman who is at his feet, begging to be seen.

"You are a pretty little slave," said Thurnus to me.

I could not speak, for my lips were pressed to his cup.

"What is her name?" asked Thurnus of my master.

"She does not have a name," he responded.

"Oh," said Thurnus. Then he said, "She is a pretty little thing." I felt his hand on my leg.

Angrily, Melina, who was the free companion of Thurnus of Tabuk's Ford, rose to her feet and left the hut.

I shuddered under the intimate touch of Thurnus. I could not withdraw from his caress for my lips must needs remain pressed to his cup.

"Perhaps we should give her a name," suggested Marla.

"Perhaps," said one of the lieutenants, looking at me.

"What do you think of Stupid Girl?" asked Marla.

The men laughed.

"Or Clumsy Girl!" she urged.

"Better," said one of the lieutenants.

How angry I was at Marla, and how jealous of her. She was a saucy slave. Had I so spoken, so freshly and without permission, I might have been whipped.

She was high slave.

"You are right," said my Master. "She is both stupid and clumsy, but she is growing in intelligence, and in beauty and grace."

I flushed with pleasure to hear him say this.

"Let us give her a name more suitable to a slave girl, who, one day, will perhaps be capable of pleasing men."

My lips remained pressed to Thurnus's cup. I could not withdraw from his caress. I began to become aroused. I was a slave. I could not help myself.

Thurnus laughed. He then, with his peasant's humor, suggested two names, both descriptive, both embarrassing.

My thighs moved. How furious I was! I was a slave. I could not help myself.

I was furious, too, at the laughter which greeted Thurnus's proposals. Yet I knew that if I were given either of those intimate, obscene names, I would have to wear it. They would simply be my name.

"Let us think further," chuckled my master. He was Clitus Vitellius, of the caste of warriors, of the city of Ar.

I began to move helplessly under the touch of Thurnus. I could not help myself. I was slave.

My master watched me. "There is something to be said of course," said he, "for the suggestions of Thurnus."

I moaned with misery.

"But I think," said he, smiling, "we may look further."

I tried to restrain myself, to keep from responding to the touch of Thurnus. I could not do so. I thought of Elicia Nevins, who had been my lovely beauty rival in the college on Earth. How amused the haughty Elicia would have been to see me now, a half naked slave girl, clad in the scandalous Ta-Teera, her lips pressed to a cup, responding so helplessly to a man's touch. How humiliated and embarrassed I was to even think of the proud, serene, contemptuous Elicia in my present predicament. How pleased I was that she could not see her old rival now.

Thurnus moved the cup a bit closer to him, maneuvering me into a yet more helpless position. My hands were clenched on the wrist that held the cup. I felt the cup with my teeth.

"Marla is a pretty name," said my Master. He looked at Marla, in his arms. "Do you not think Marla is a good name for a slave?"

"Oh, yes, Master," she whispered. "Marla is a superb name for a slave." She began to kiss him about the throat and chin.

"Perhaps I should call her 'Marla, " said he.

I knew that, in an instant, my name might be Marla. I shuddered.

"But we already have one Marla among our girls," smiled my Master, looking down into the beautiful, uplifted dark eyes of the lovely Marla.

"Yes, Master," she whispered.

I did not know what name I would wear.

"If the nameless slave interests you in the least," said my master to Thurnus, indicating me with his head, "you may, of course, do what you wish with her."

I shuddered, a slave girl on Gor.

"But," said Thurnus, laughing, "you have come to examine sleen."

My master shrugged. "That is true," he admitted.

"Let us then waste no more time sporting with slave girls," said Thurnus, "but turn our attention to more serious business." Thurnus looked at me. "You may remove your lips from the cup, Girl," he said.

I withdrew my lips from the cup. He removed his hand from my body, and stood up.

I knelt on the floor. My eyes were wide. My teeth were gritted. I wanted to scratch at the mats on the floor with my fingernails.

My master rose to his feet, and his lieutenants with him. Marla angrily, pouting, put her legs beneath her, and knelt. We were only girls. The men had business. There were more important things for them to attend to than us.

I wanted to roll on the floor and scream.

I looked at the Home Stone in the hut. In this hut, for it was here that his Home Stone resided, Thurnus was sovereign. In this hut, even had he been a lowly man or beggar, he, because of the presence in it of his Home Stone, was Ubar. A palace without a Home Stone is but a hovel; a hovel which contains a Home Stone is a palace.

In this house, this hut, this palace, Thurnus's was the supremacy. Here he might do as he pleased. His rights in this house, his supremacy in this place, was acknowledged by all guests. They shared the hospitality of his Home Stone.

Had Thurnus requested me my master, in such a situation, would have granted me to him immediately. Not to have done so would have been inexcusably rude, a betrayal, a boorish breech of hospitality and good manners.

Yet Thurnus, though I had little doubt he found me of more than casual interest, had not asked for me. I wondered if he had, in his openness with me, been testing my master, to learn him better. Thurnus impressed me as a shrewd man. My master had well respected the house of Thurnus, and his sovereignty within it. Satisfied then with the acknowledgement of this power, which was rightfully his in this house, Thurnus neither put me to his purposes, nor requested of my master his permission to do so, a permission which would have assuredly been promptly and willingly tendered. Having thus certified my master's recognition of his rights, he chose, magnanimously and nobly, as is often done, not to exercise them. I was, after all, my master's property. In this simple manner these two strong men had shown one another, in the Gorean mode, respect.

But Gorean males, I knew, in such situations, not only respected one another, but were often generous with one another.

In the feast to come tonight, Eta had warned me, there would be a general exchange of slave girls, the bond girls of the village being made available to my master's men, and his own girls, among whom I was one, being made available to the young lads of the community. We would be run between the huts within the palisade.

The men prepared to leave the hut.

My master snapped his fingers and Maria sprang to her feet and went out the door of the hut. His lieutenants followed her.

I was on my hands and knees. There were tears in my eyes. I lifted my hand to my master.

"I am afraid I have aroused your slave," said Thurnus, looking back at me.

"Please, Master," I whispered.