I was then put on my knees to one side. The jailer lifted a chain from the side wall. It was attached to a ring there and was itself terminated with another ring. He clipped the ring on the back of my sack to that ring. I was thus, in the sack, kneeling, fastened to the wall.

We waited.

“Do you like our little bridge?” he asked.

I shook my head, negatively.

“There are far worse things in this place,” he said.

I regarded him, frightened.

“You are going to be a good little kajira, are you not?” he asked.

I nodded my head.

“I wonder why you were purchased,” he said, looking down at me.

I looked up at him. I did not know.

“To be sure,” he said, “you are pretty.”

I put my head down, quickly. One is sometimes wary when one hears one so spoken of, too, by such a man. The buckles of the sack were within his reach, of course. It was I who could not reach them.

“We are in the vicinity of one of the high terraces,” he said.

I thought I detected a freshness of air, and a draft from beneath the door.

“You have not been a kajira long, have you?” he asked.

I shook my head, negatively.

“You are familiar with gag signals, are you not?” he asked.

I whimpered once. When a woman is gagged, one whimper means “Yes,” and two, “No.”

“That is better,” he said.

I hoped he would not cuff me.

“You wish to use them then, do you not?” he said.

I whimpered once. Of course! Of course!

“Good,” he said. “Have you been a kajira long?”

I whimpered twice.

“You have much to learn,” he said.

I whimpered once.

“Within,” he said, “you will find yourself in the presence of an officer. Do you understand?”

I whimpered once. I did not really understand, fully, the import of what he was saying but I gathered enough to understand that he within, or he on the other side of that door, he before whom I might soon expect to appear, was of some importance in this place.

This was, as you might suppose, a piece of very frightening intelligence for me.

“You do wish to live, do you not?” asked the jailer.

I whimpered once, earnestly, fervently. Tears sprang to my eyes.

“Good,” he said.

We continued to wait.

“You do not know why you were purchased, do you?” he asked.

I whimpered twice. I looked at him, pleadingly.

“I do not know either,” he said. “Perhaps it is merely because you are pretty.”

I looked down, frightened.

“You are pretty,” he said.

I whimpered a little, not in response, but rather in fear.

I could hardly move in the sack. By means of it I was tethered to the wall.

He looked down at me.

I was within his power.

But he did not unbuckle the sack. I wondered if I might be in some way special. I had certainly not been regarded as special in the pens, except perhaps insofar as I might have been thought to have been of “special interest” to strong men, or, in their rude humor, “specially delicious” as a “tasta” or “pudding.”

I looked at the door, fearfully.

I wondered what lay beyond it.

Behind that door then, I would guess from some several yards behind it, there sounded a gong.

I looked up, wildly, frightened.

“Steady,” he said “It will be a few Ehn.”

He then unclipped the leash ring from the ring on the straps, under my chin. He then, over the straps, pushed my chin up, and fastened the leash, by means of its own clip and ring, about my neck, a portion of the leash thus serving as its own collar. The loop fitted closely about my neck. Perhaps there was something like a half inch of play in the loop. He jerked the loop open, as far as it would go, to its limit, where it was stopped by the ring and guard. I then had something like an inch of play within the loop. I could not, of course, hope to slip such a tether.

“Note,” he said.

He then gave a slight tug on the leash and I looked up at him in terror. Where as the loop might widen to the point where I might have as much as a full inch between my throat and the leather, no limit, other then my throat itself, was imposed on its closure. As the leash was now arranged, it constituted a choke collar. This was quite different from the earlier arrangement, when the ring had been attached to the sack straps.

“Do you like the choke collar?” he asked.

I whimpered twice.

“They are commonly used for dangerous male slaves,” he said, “sometimes for new girls, sometimes for arrogant free women, that they may immediately cease to be arrogant, sometimes for ignorant girls, sometimes for stupid girls. Sometimes women use them for controlling other women, for they have less strength.”

I looked up at him. Such a collar terrified me.

“Do you think it necessary for one such as you?”

I whimpered twice.

“No,” he said. “I do not think so, either. But I thought it useful that you should feel it, and understand that it can be sued on you here.”

I trembled.

I was not totally unfamiliar with choke collars, for they had occasionally been used in my training, in the pens. I did fear them.

I shall elaborate on this matter briefly, at another point.

“Good,” he said, “I see that you are an intelligent kajira, and that you understand. But have no fear, or no more than is necessary. I will now make a simple adjustment.”

He fixed the ring differently.

“There,” he said.

He then jerked the leash. But now it did not close on my throat. It had been adjusted, to be a normal collar.

I looked at him, gratefully.

I still could not slip it, of course.

“That is better, is it not?” he asked.

I whimpered once.

“You do not now fear the leash, do you?” he asked.

I whimpered twice.

“You are mistaken,” he said.

I regarded him, puzzled. What was there to fear from a common leash?

He then freed the ring at the back of the sack from the chain on the wall.

No longer was I attached to the wall.

I felt him unbuckling the sack.

I whimpered, begging him to speak to me.

“You are perhaps concerned about the gong,” he said.

I whimpered once.

“That was the first signal,” he said.

When the sack fell free from about my upper body I was put to all fours. My upper body suddenly felt cold. It had been uncomfortably warm in its tight canvas enclosure, from the pressure of my limbs held so closely to my body and the general heat and constraint of the sack. It had been covered with a sheen of perspiration, from its confinement and my exertions. Now it felt cold, from the air of the corridor. He then had me crawl forward, until my legs, too, were free of the sack. He then folded the sack and put it to one side. He then picked up the leash, looping its long end in three or four coils.

We then waited, again.

He was to my left. I was naked. I was on all fours. The tunic, in its small, neat folds, was grippedbetween my teeth.

The leash, in his hand, looped down, and then up, to my neck.

I regarded the closed door.

“Remember that you would like to live,” said the jailer.

I whimpered, once.

He looked down upon me, as such men often look, and appropriately, upon women such as I.

“You are a pretty little she-sleen,” he said.

At that time, though I was familiar with sleen, or at least the one who had patrolled the ledge, I did not know the word.

There are many varieties of sleen, incidentally, adapted to diverse environments; the most formidable, as far as I know, is the forest sleen. There is also a sand sleen, a snow sleen, even some aquatic varieties, types of sea sleen, and so on. They are very greatly in size, as well. Some sleen are quite small and silken, and sinuously graceful, no larger than domestic cats. They are sometimes kept as pets.

It was easy enough to understand, of course, that a “pretty little she-sleen” must be some sort of domestic animal. I was on all fours. I was to be, apparently, marched forward, through the door, on all fours, leashed. How could it be made more clear to me that I was an animal?