“We are not permitted to do so,” I said.

She trembled.

“What is wrong?” I asked.

“He kissed me,” she said, “and I was in a collar.”

“Yes, you were,” I said.

“A collar!” she said.

“Yes,” I said.

“A slave collar,” she said, “the collar of a slave!”

“Yes,” I said.

“I am trying to understand my feelings,” she said.

“I see,” I said.

“I imagine such a man would have to be served very well,” she said, lightly.

“I would think so,” I said. “He seemed such a man.”

“I feel uneasy, and frightened, and weak,” she said.

“Do not be afraid,” I said. “You will doubtless never see him again.”

She threw me a look of anguish.

“On the other hand,” I said, “it is possible, of course.”

She seemed, then, to breathe more easily.

“He kissed me,” she said. “Do you think he likes me?”

“He may have been merely trying you out,” I said.

“Trying me out?”

“Yes,”

“Do you think he might have been pleased?”

“I would not be surprised,” I said.

“Do you think he likes me?” she asked.

“Perhaps he might find you of some slave interest,” I said, “as might, incidentally, a great many men.”

She smiled, shyly, pleased.

“Do you like him?” I asked.

“Of course not!” she cried. “Did you not see how he kept me on my knees before him?”

“Such a position is common for a slave before a free man,” I said.

“But I am not a slave!” she said.

“He did not know that,” I said.

“Surely one could tell!” she said.

“Not at all,” I said.

I saw that this intelligence much pleased her.

“You think then that I could be taken for a slave?”

“Of course,” I said, “and you were.”

“Yes,” she said.

“And you would make a lovely slave,” I said.

“Do you think so?” she asked, eagerly.

“Yes,” I said.

“Do you think I would bring a good price?”

“Of course,” I said.

“And men might desire me?”

“Certainly,” I said, “very much so. Even excruciatingly so.”

I saw that this much pleased her.

“How dreadful!” she exclaimed.

“Not at all,” I said.

“And did you not see how he demeaned me,” she said suddenly, angrily, “how he walked about me, regarding me, examining me, inspecting me, as though I might be a slave!”

“He took you for a slave,” I said.

“I?”

“Of course,” I said.

“And he ordered me to him, that my collar might be read!”

“He probably wanted to know your name,” I said.

“Do you think so?” she said, eagerly.

“Certainly,” I said.

“He read your collar first!” she said.

“Certainly,” I said. “I was the leash holder. But I think it is clear that his interest was in you, not in me. Indeed, I suspect he read my collar to learn more of you, for example, you would be the slave Tuta who was in the keeping of the state slave, Janice, and so on.”

“Oh!” she said, excitedly. “But did you not see,” she then said, angrily, “how he forced me to hold my lips, pursed, simply by his will, and I must keep my eyes closed, and wait, and wait, and then how ht took me in his arms and kissed me, and how he kissed me!”

“Slaves may be kissed in such a fashion,” I told her. Certainly her lips, although those of a free woman, had been as lengthily and patiently raped as those of a common slave in a master’s possessive greed for her.

I doubted that free women were ever so kissed, unless perhaps they were but moments from the collar, such a kiss serving them as a token of the bondage that awaited them.

“I hate him,” she said. “The beast, the arrogant brute, I hate him!”

“You hate him?” I asked.

“Yes!” she said. “Yes!”

“If you were actually a slave,” I said, “it would not matter whether or not you hated him, or he you. You would serve with perfection in any case, as the slave you would then be.”

“I supposed so,” she said.

“Definitely,” I said. “And if he was not pleased he would doubtless use the whip on you, and well.”

“Do you think so?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Such men do not let women make fools of them.”

“Janice,” she said.

“Yes?” I said.

“Why did you ask me so silly a question, as to whether or not I might like him?”

“It was just a thought,” I said.

“An absurd thought!” she said.

“Of course,” I said.

“But why did you ask?”

“Just little things,” I said.

“Such as?” she asked, testily.

“The way you spread your knees before him,” I said.

“I did not!” she cried.

“Oh, yes, you did,” I said. “It is one thing for me to kneel before a man thusly, for I am a pleasure slave. I may be punished if I do not do so. We are trained to kneel thus, brazenly and joyfully before men. But you needed not do so.”

“I did not!” she said.

“Yes, you did,” I said. “And as time went on, and particularly when he looked upon you, you spread them even more.”

“Truly?’ she asked.

“Yes,” I said.

She put the tips of the fingers of her ring hand before her mouth.

“But such things,” I said, “might occur inadvertently, or without one’s being aware of them, or without really paying them much attention, or one might forget about them promptly afterwards, as things that could not have happened.”

She pressed her finger tips against her lips, as though fearing that she might speak.

“Did you know what you were doing?” I asked.

“I do not know,” she said.

“Perhaps you were frightened?” I suggested.

“Yes,” she said. “I was frightened.”

“Such behaviors in a female can be consequent upon trepidation,” I said.

“Undoubtedly,” she said.

“Rather like the prone slave’s timid lifting of her derriere, facing away from the master, at his feet, hoping thereby to distract him, perhaps from punitive intentions, with thoughts of pleasure.

“Oh!” she said.

“To divert wrath, to placate him, such things,” I said.

“Undoubtedly,” she whispered.

“But often such behaviors, the spreading of knees, and such, and merely a way of presenting oneself, of offering oneself, of inviting attention, of begging for it.”

“But I am a free woman!” she said.

“Even so, you are a female,” I said.

“I have never thought of myself so radically,” she said.

“Perhaps you should, sometime,” I said.

“There is a saying,” she said. “It is that there are two sorts of female slaves, those who are collared, and those who are not yet collared.”

“An interesting saying,” I said.

“Do you think it is true?’ she asked.

“I would not know,” I said.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“It is true for me,” I said. “I have always been a female slave, but it was not until I was brought ot this world that I was collared.”

“It is so easy for you,” she said. “You know what you are.”

“I must go now,” I said.

“Ask the pit master if we may go again to the surface!” she begged.

“I will,” I said.

“Janice!”

“Yes?”

“Surely my disguise as a slave might be more effective,” she said, lightly, “if you were to instruct me, somewhat, in how a slave behaves, in the sort of things she is expected to know, and such.”

“Perhaps you are right,” I said. Certainly I might improve her deference procedures and her way of kneeling.

“Teach me the seven kisses.”

I regarded her, startled.

“You are a free woman,” I said.

“Please!” she begged.

“Perhaps,” I said.

“And teach me to use my lips!” she said.

“There are many ways to use the lips,” I said. “But you must understand, too, that there are many ways to use the hands, the feet, the hair, and so on, indeed, in a sense, the slave is taught, in many ways, to use her entire body.”

“Teach me!” she begged.

“I do not think the pit master would approve,” I said. “Surely you would not wish me to ask him?”

“Of course not,” she said, horrified.