“Go on,” said Aynur.

“I was not tired,” I said. “I wanted to walk. I went into the garden.”

“You did not know anyone was there?”

“No!” I said. “I thought the garden was empty.”

“But it was not, it seems,” said Aynur.

“No!” I said.

“There was a man there?”

“Yes!” I said.

“Were you surprised?” asked Aynur.

‘Yes!” I said. “I was shocked! I was terrified! I was horrified! A man there! In the garden!”

“What did you do?”

“I did not know what to do,” I said.

“It seems that you managed to do something,” said Aynur. Tana laughed.

“I had no choice!” I protested.

“You could not help yourself,” suggested Aynur.

“I was seized!” I said. “I was helpless!”

“Perhaps you were beaten,” said Aynur, “but you do not appear to have been beaten. Perhaps you were bound, hand and foot, but there do not appear to be rope marks on your wrists or ankles, or at your belly.”

“I was overpowered!” I protested. I supposed that this was, in a sense, true. I had been overpowered by his authority, by my consternation, by my not knowing who he was, or his license to be here, by the hold he had over me, having seen me by the wall, by my own desperate, crying needs.

“Doubtless you resisted?” said Aynur.

“Yes!” I cried. “But I was too weak. He was so much stronger than I!”

“Why did you not summon guards?” asked Aynur.

Why had she not, I wondered, summoned guards?

“Why did you not call out?” inquired Aynur.

“I was gagged!” I said, relievedly. “See? The silk is wet! It was put in my mouth.”

“It does not appear to have been wrested from you,” observed Aynur. “It does not seem to have been torn from your body.”

“The disrobing loop was drawn!” I said.

“Who drew the loop?” asked Aynur.

“He!” I lied. “He!”

“And you were gagged with the silk?”

“Yes!”

“Why did you not cry out before the silk was removed?” asked Aynur.

I looked at her, frightened.

“It could not very well be in your mouth and on your body at the same time,” she said.

“He seized me from behind,” I said. “He held me back against him, his left hand over my mouth. With his right hand he drew the loop. As I struggled the silk fell. He then flung me to my back on the grass, and put the silk in my mouth!”

“It was tired in place?”

“No,” I admitted.

“You did not attempt to eject it?”

“I did not dare to do so,” I said.

“When we came upon you,” she said, “the silk was not in your mouth.”

“it had become dislodged,” I said.

“And you did not cry out?”

“I was afraid,” I said. This would be plausible. At least I hoped so. Such a man, of course, could have snapped my neck with one hand.

“It seems then that you are in this matter fully guiltless,” said Aynur.

“Yes!” I said, relieved.

“But he did put you to his purposes?” she asked.

“Yes,” I admitted.

There seemed no point in denying this.

We had, I recalled, been discovered naked in one another’s arms. Indeed, I recalled that I had been held for a time, naked in his arms, even after Aynur and the others had discovered us. I feared that he might have made it quite clear, even flagrantly so, to my shame and terror, what had been going on. I could only hope that I could convince Aynur that I was in these things only an unwilling, innocent victim. She must believe that!

“Poor Gail,” said Aynur.

I looked at her, gratefully.

“You felt nothing?” asked Aynur.

“No!” I said. “My passion, such as it might be, is reserved exclusively for he who holds total rights over me!”

I hoped that Aynur would believe the myth.

Aynur walked around, behind me.

“Kneel up a little,” she said. “And put the tops of your toes flat on the grass.”

I must obey.

“Ah!” said Aynur.

I trembled.

“The bottoms of our feet,” said Aynur, “are to be soft, and caressable. That is why we must consider the surfaces upon which we tread. That is the meaning of the lotions and creams with which they are treated.”

I did not respond.

“But the bottoms of your feet have been roughened. They are cut, and bloody. You have been near the wall.”

I did not speak.

“And apparently,” she said, “you were too stupid to have trod softly.”

She then walked around me again, so that she was, again, before me.

I had been alarmed at the sounds of voices. That was why I had hurried, foolishly, from the perimeter of sharpened stones. That is why my feet had been cut.

“You did not respond to the man who was here?” asked Aynur.

“No!” I said.

“How then do you explain the condition of your body, when you were found?” asked Aynur.

“I may have felt, a little,” I whispered.

It would do little good, I feared, to attempt to deny, to an observer as astute as Aynur, what would have been obvious. There are so many signs, the dilation of the pupils, the helplessness, the sheen of sweat, the oils, the smells, the mottling of the body, the erection of the nipples, such things.

“You have felt the whip, and iron on your wrists,” said Aynur.

“Yes,” I said.

“Do you still claim to have felt little?” she asked.

“No,” I whispered.

Women such as I, of course, and Aynur, and so many others inside the walls, and outside of them, are the most responsive of all women. We are not permitted, for example, dignity and inhibitions. Such are incompatible with the collar. We know what is expected of us, and what we must be like. And we are trained. And we are under discipline. Too, we are, I suspect, selected with heat in mind. It is presumably one of the properties which those whose business it is to acquire us keep in mind. Such a consideration may, in many cases, make the difference with respect to whether or not we are to be acquired. Such a property is apparently important, for example, when want lists are compared with inventories.

“Do you think I cannot recognize a hot little tart when I see one?” asked Aynur.

“I do not know,” I murmured.

“Do you think I have not read your papers?” she asked.

“I do not know,” I said. I could not read them, of course. I did not even know what they said. There was apparently some remark on them pertinent to my heat. He whose whip I had first kissed, in the corridor long ago, he who had later treated me with such cruelty, spurning me, throwing me to others, he whom, in the long nights in the kennels, I had never forgotten, had old me that I was supposedly quite “vital.” The matter had been confirmed in the pens, of course. I had wept with misery and shame for hours afterward. But the proper endorsements had been included, I had gathered, on my papers. Aynur, it seemed, could read.

“You were at the wall,” said Aynur.

“Yes,” I admitted.

“Although it may have been difficult for you to wholly refrain from feeling,” said Aynur, “you undoubtedly did your best.”

“Oh, yes, yes!” I said.

“And you remained totally inactive,” said Aynur.

“As inactive as possible,” I whispered.

“Then you did not, for example, kiss him?’

“Of course not!” I said.

Tima and Tana broke into laughter. I looked at them, frightened.

“You saw?” I asked.

“Yes!” said Aynur, in fury.

My heart sank.

I had not known how long they had been watching. Apparently it had been long enough. I had heard a voice. That of Aynur. And then, a moment later, she had cried out in fury. I had then, in terror, tried to pull back, but he had not permitted me to extricate myself. He had held me where I was, against him, in his arms, naked.

“Slut!” cried Aynur.

“He ordered me to kiss him!” I cried.

“And you did so reluctantly?’ she screamed.

“Yes, yes!” I cried.

“Liar! Liar!” she wept.

I was terrified. I almost lost position.

“Naked, collared tart!” she cried.