I would have screamed and reared up, but I was thrust back, helpless, half strangled, scarcely able to utter a sound, to the step. So our masters can control us by our collars. To my terror, then, pushing over my body, to thrust its great jaws and head, so large I could scarcely have put my arms around them, into the hands and arms of my master, was an incredible beast. It had an extremely again, active, sinuous body, as thick as a drum, and perhaps fourteen or fifteen feet long. It might have weighed a thousand pounds. Its broad head was triangular, almost viperlike, but it was furred. This thing was a mammal, or mamalian. Its eyes now had pupils like slits, like those of a cat in sunlight. So quickly then might its adaptive mechanisms have functioned. About its muzzle were gray hairs, grayer than the silvered gray of its fur. It had six legs. "Good lad!" said my master, roughly fondling that great fierce head. "We have been through much together, Borko and I," said my master. "He has even, twice, saved my life. Once when I was struck, unexpectedly, by one foolishly thought to be a friend, the origin of this scar," he said, indicating good-humoredly the hideous, jagged tissue at the left side of his face, "I told Borko to hunt. The fellow did not escape. Borko brought part of him back to me, in his jaws."

I watched in terror as my master, over my body, scratched and pulled, and shoved, at that great head. Clearly he was inordinately fond of that terrible beast, and perhaps it of him. I saw his eyes. He lavished affection upon it. He cared more for it than his girls, I was certain. Perhaps it was the only thing he trusted, other than himself, the only thing he knew that he could rely upon, other than himself, the only thing, of all creatures he knew, who had proved its love and loyalty to him. If this were so, then perhaps it was not incredible that he might bestow upon it a fondness, or love, which he, betrayed perhaps by men, might withhold from others, from men, and slaves.

"Do you know what you and Borko have in common?" he asked me.

"We are both your animals, Master," I said.

"Yes!" he said. "And do you know who is most valuable?"

"No, Master," I said.

"Borko," he said, "is a seasoned hunting sleen. Even to strangers he would bring a hundred times what you would bring in the market."

I was silent. I was frightened with those huge jaws, the two rings of fangs, the long, dark tongue, over me.

"But I would not sell him for anything," he said. "He is worth more to me than ten thousand of you."

"Yes, Master," I whispered.

"Borko!" he said, sternly. "Borko."

The beast pulled back its head, observing him.

"Learn slave," he said. "Learn slave."

I then began to whimper. "Hold still," said my master.

The beast then began to push its nose and muzzle about me, thrusting it here and there, about me. I now understood why I had been spread as I had, on the steps. "The sleen," he said, "and especially the gray sleen, is Gor" s finest tracker. It is a relentless, tenacious tracker. It can follow a scent that is weeks old, for a thousand pasangs."

I whimpered, the beast" s snout thrust between my things, sniffing.

"Please, Master," I whimpered.

I felt it nuzzling then at my waist and breasts. It was learning me.

"Do you know what the sleen hunts?" he asked.

"No, Master," I whimpered.

"In the wild it commonly hunts tabuk and wild tarsk," he said, "but it is an intelligent beast, and it can be trained to hunt anything."

"Yes, Master," I whimpered.

He held back my right arm, further, exposing more the armpit.

"Do you know what Borko is trained to hunt?" he asked.

"No, Master," I said.

I felt the snout of the beast then poking about my throat and under my chin, to the side, and then at the side of my neck. My maser then held my left arm further, exposing the armpit to the beast.

"It is trained to hunt men, and slaves," he said.

"No!" I wept.

I squirmed, but my master held me steady, by the collar and my left wrist, held back. the beast thrust its snout against me, there, in the armpit, and then sniffed along the interior of my left arm, and then along the left side of my body.

I whimpered in terror.

"Try not to be afraid," he said. "That might excite Borka"

"Yes, Master," I whimpered.

Then the beast drew back its head.

"Doreen," said my master to the beast, slowly, clearly. "Doreen. Doreen." The beast again sniffed me.

"Doreen," said my master, grinning to the beast. "Doreen."

I shuddered.

The beast then drew back its head again.

"Back, Borko," said my master, and the beast inched back, its eyes on me. I was shuddering. I dared not move.

"Borko is trained to respond to a variety of signals," he said.

"Yes, Master," I whispered.

"He now knows you," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said.

"Whose are you?" he asked.

"I am yours, Master," I said, quickly.

"Do not try to escape," he said.

"No, Master!" I said. "I will not try to escape!"

"Borko, go back to your kennel," he said. "Go, now!"

The beast then backed off a few feet, and turned. In a moment, it had withdrawn through the low portal. My master went to the cord which controlled the panel, and closed it. I was shuddering on the step. I did not move. I was almost too afraid to do so. Too, I had not been given permission to break position. "Kneel at the foot of the dais," he said. Swiftly I did so. I found I was still clutching the tiny garment I had been given. It had been clutched in the palm of my right hand, all the time. It was now wet with sweat. The prints of my nails were deep in it.

He retrieved the whip and ascended to the height of the dais, where he took his place in the great chair.

He looked down at me, the whip across his knees.

Perhaps now, Earth woman," he said, "you understand more clearly what your situation is on this world?"

I shuddered.

"Do you understand, girl?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," I said.

"Stand," he said.

I stood.

"You may put on your garment," he said.

Quickly I donned the tiny garment, and drew it down, as I could, about me. I stood there.

"Yes," he said, "you are beautiful."

"Thank you, Master," I said. I flushed with pleasure. I was valuable. Doubtless I would be a high slave.

He stood. "Mirus!" he called. Mirus was one of his men. I knew him from the house. He had brought me to this chamber. In a moment, Mirus appeared through the door, that at the end of the carpet, that leading into this chamber. He approached, and took up a position a bit behind me and to my left."

"She is lovely, isn" t she?" my master asked Mirus.

"Yes," he said.

"Do you like your garment?" my master asked me.

"Yes, Master," I said. I recalled the last time he had asked this I had been shortly thereafter ordered to remove it. He could do that again, and I would again be forced to disrobe, and instantly. Too, this time it would also be before Mirus. It is one thing to come naked before a man, and another to strip yourself, or be stripped, before him. too, it is something else again, to do this, or have it done to you, before others. Mirus was not my master, but only my master" s man. To be sure, I was a slave, and would have to obey. Coming nude before men, and stripping herself, or being stripped, befoe them are things such as a slave girl must expect. After all, what else could she expect? She is, after all, a slave. Indeed, sometimes girls are stripped in public, even in the squares, because masters are so pleased to show them off. Sometimes this occurs in heated discussions of the relative merits of different master" s girls, and the girls are ordered to disrobe on the spot, sometimes then being put through slave paces, there, on the very tiles of the squares and plazas, the matter being left to the acclamations or votes of the spectators, and woe to the girl who comes out second best in such a contest! Too, it is not uncommon, as a discipline, to send a girl out naked on errands. In such a case she is often locked in an iron belt. Too, it is not unusual, in taverns, particularly lower taverns, as I would learn, for girls to be publicly naked. I was diffident though, at this time, to remove my clothing before Minus. I would have been embarrassed, or humiliated, to do so. I was not yet a brazen slut. I had not yet even been on the floor of the tavern. My attitude, of course, I understood, was undoubtedly a bit irrational. Minus, after all, had seen me naked. Indeed, he had never, really, seen me clothed. He as the one, incidentally, who had unhooded and ungagged me in this house. He had been pleased with my face. He had then unroped the blanket which had been tied about me, and opened it, folding it back, almost as though I might have been a present. "Superb," he had said, this pleasing me. "Are you white silk?" he had asked. "Yes, Master," I had said, shrinking back from him in the manacles. He had then taken me down to the basement, removed the manacles, put me on my hands and knees, and thrust me into my kennel, locking it behind me. Why, then, was I embarrassed, or humiliated, at the thought that I might now be ordered to disrobe in his presence? I was not sure. I supposed it was because I was not yet fully adjusted to my slavery. I was not yet a brazen slave. I had not yet, at that time, even been put out on the floor of the tavern. Perhaps I still thought, at that time, that the fullness of my beauty was, particularly, for my master, and not for others. I did not really stop to think, at that time, however, that Hendow was a tavern owner, and that, thus, the fullness of my beauty was not only for him, but, as he saw fit, or as it might please him, also for his customers.