He was regarding me.

I dared not meet his eyes directly. I saw the whip in his hand. Men on this world, I suspected, were not patient with women, or at least women such as I. "What is to be done with me, on this world?" I asked.

"You are not wearing clothes," he said, as though he might be just noticing this.

"No," I said.

"You are chained by the neck," he said.

"Yes," I said.

"I think it must be obvious," he said.

I shuddered. I wondered what it might be like, to be a female on a world like this, or the sort of female I was, on a world like this, where, unlike Earth, men had not been weakened.

"You are afraid, aren" t you, slut?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Good," he said. "That is as it should be. And you have every right to be afraid, I assure you, even, indeed, far more afraid than you can even begin to understand now."

I shuddered.

"It is amusing, " he said, "to consider how the nature of your life is going to change."

"Were many women brought here?" I asked.

"In your shipment," he said, "one hundred. You were the hundredth." "That seems a great many," I whispered.

"I do not gather them all, of course," he said. "There are others engaged in these enterprises, as well. The captures are brought together from various places, one from here, one from there, this attracting little attention." "From various countries?" I asked. "America, England, France, Germany, Denmark, China, Japan?"

"Yes," he said. "But your shipment was largely regional."

"Is it difficult to «gather» these girls?" I asked.

"No," he said, "they are trapped more easily than the small animals you call rabbits. Consider your own case."

"Do your people do this sort of thing regularly?" I asked. "We have our schedules," he said.

"Are there other groups engaged in this sort of thing?" I asked.

"I think so," he said, "But I know little about them."

"I was the hundredth?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

" I was saved for last?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

"That was your doing?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

"Why?" I asked.

"I have asked for a transfer to other duties," he said, musingly, regarding me. "It is thus possible that you may be the last female I will bring her from your world. To be sure, I will doubtless capture other women from time to time, here on my world, women native to my world, and perhaps, from time to time, Earth girls who have been brought here earlier."

"But you chose me for your last catch," I said.

"Yes," he said.

"Why?" I asked.

He smiled, fingering the coils of the whip.

"Surely you could have taken others," I said.

"Yes," he said.

"But you did not," I said.

"No," he said.

"Why?" I asked.

He did not respond.

"There is something different or special about me, somehow, from your point of view, isn" t there?" I said. I had sensed this from the first.

"I did wish to make my last catch a particularly delicious one," he said. "I do not understand," I said.

"Do not underestimate yourself, and your desirability as a female animal," he said.

"I am too short," I said. "I am too meaty. I am not tall, spare and willowy." "Do not be stupid," he said.

"Am I attractive?" I asked.

"Certainly," he said. "You are superbly cuddly slut. Do you think I would get my pay if I did not bring in first-class females?" I then realized that the tastes of men here might run more to the natural female, sweet and cuddly, and marvelous, than the stereotypes of beauty on my own world. In a sense I was moved with pleasure to learn this. In another sense I was terrified. Here I then understood I might find myself desired, and sought, and hunted, perhaps even as an animal, exquisitely delectable female quarry.

"But even so," I said, "perhaps you found something, or thought there was something, different or special about me?"

"I find you personally," he said, "quite desirable, even excruciatingly attractive."

I shrank back in the chain. How could he speak so openly of sexual matters? Too, I was afraid, as a female, found of interest, before him.

"But, yes," he said, "beyond such things you are special to me." "In what way?" I asked.

"In your capture there is something symbolic," he said. "It is thus fitting that you be what might be my last capture of a female of your world."

"You seem to hate me," I said.

"Yes," he said, "I do."

"Why?" I asked.

"You are a modern woman," he said, "and, as such, you represent a perversion of humanity, a pernicious and wanton perversion, one maliciously deleterious to the centralities of human sexuality, both of the male and female, and thus on literally inimical not only to the quality but, ultimately, to the very future of the human species."

I looked at him, startled.

"You are a modern woman," he said, "and would destroy men."

"No!" I said.

"But you will not, I assure you," he said, "destroy men here, Modern Woman. Here, rather, you will serve them fully, and fearfully, and delectably, and to the utmost of your abilities."

"I am not a modern woman," I said. "I have never, in my heart, been a modern woman. In my heart I am a primitive woman, one who has been bred upon from the time of caves, an ancient woman, a needful, loving woman! I was an alien, and sorrowful, and lost, and miserable, in my world as you were!"

"Liar!" he cried. He snapped the whip in fury, and I shrank back, startled by its sound and threat, before him. "You are so clever, you lying slut!" he hissed. "You are so quick, so cunning, so dangerous!"

"Please," I said.

"But I see through your tiny tricks!"

"Why do you think I am a modern woman, in some sense you despise," I asked, "because I can speak clearly, because I can think, because I have read a book? Do you not think that true women, loving, needful women, can do these things? Do you not think that what you can love, they, too, can love?"

"They demean such things," he said, "using them as baubles and adornments." I wept.

"Perhaps those little adornments, those little vanity devices," he said, "will make you more amusing, and interesting, in your collar."

"My collar?" I asked, aghast.

"Have you not seen what is being done to men on your world?" he asked. I was silent.

"If you are not active in such matters," he said, "what have you done to reverse them?"

I was silent.

"You are thus, at the least, an abettor, or accomplice, in such crimes," he said.

"No!" I said.

"Thus, if only by tacit consent, you, too, are guilty of them," he said. "No!" I protested.

"What do you think of the men of your world?" he asked.

"I despise them! They are weaklings!" I cried, suddenly. They deserve to have us take their world from them, to be thrust aside with words and writs, to be superseded by contrived legalities, to be relegated by statutes and slogans to the peripheries of power, to become trammeled, and crippled, as they are advised, as they are castrated, to become nothing, to be deprived of their pride and strength, and thus even of the potentiality of their unused manhood, to take our orders, to obey us!"

"Your position, I take it," he said, "is motivated by your hatred, jealousy and envy of men?"

"I do not think so," I said. "I do not want to be a man. I want to be a woman. My anger, my frustration, is motivated, I think, not by their manhood, and that I am not a man, as seems to be the case almost universally with the women you despise, if we can believe physicians in the matter, but rather by their lack of manhood, which denies me as well as them, which keeps me form being a full woman."

"You are a clever slut, in your small way," he said. "I never doubted it. How cunningly you would turn things! But I am not deceived by your petty tricks. You envy men, and not being one, would try to destroy them."