The door had not yet been opened. I was afraid. I had been told to make my presence known.

I then, frightened, breathing heavily, my heart pounding is fear, again knocked at the heavy door. I hoped that no one would be within.

"Who is it?" called a woman's voice,, distracted.

"A-a slave," I stammered.

She opened the door, and looked down at me. She held some papers, long and yellow, in one hand.

"It is Jason, is it not?" she asked.

"If Mistress pleases," I said.

"It will do," she said. She regarded me. She did not even seem to notice that I was alone in the hall. In this she apparently saw nothing out of the ordinary. "I had forgotten," she said. "You were to be sent to my chamber this evening, were you not?" she asked.

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"Come in," she said. "Remove your tunic and kneel by the couch. Close the door behind you."

"Yes, Mistress," I said. She was wearing golden sandals and a long, scarlet robe, with a high, ornate collar, fastened by a silver clasp.

I entered the room and shut the door behind me. I tomoved the silken tunic I had been given and folded it, placing it on the floor. I then knelt, naked and collared, near it, in the vicinity of the couch.

She knelt before a low desk, her back to me, and gave her attention to the papers which she had now placed upon it. She held a marking stick in her right hand.

"I am attending to the details of tomorrow evening's sale," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

She worked quietly, thoughtfully. Sometimes she would remove one paper from the group, and add another. Occasionally she would make a notation on one of the papers with her marking stick. Several Ehn went by. I did not disturb her. I knew she was working. She was a businesswoman, with demanding and intricate responsibilities. I wondered if any of those papers were pertinent to me. I did not dare ask, of course. I had learned that curiosity was not becoming in a Kajirus. If I were to be sold tomorrow I would find out when masters or mistresses were pleased to let me know, perhaps as late as the moment when a sales disk might be wired to my collar.

"Serve me wine, Jason," she said, distractedly. "As a slave girl," she added.

"Yes, Mistress," I said, bitterly.

"Do I detect bitterness?" she asked, not turning about.

"No, Mistress," I said.

"Good," she said. "You are a true man of Earth, fit to be the slave of a woman."

"Yes, Mistress," I said. I found some wine, and poured a bit for her. Then, as I had seen Lola do for me, I pressed the goblet into my lower abdomen and then lifted it to my lips, where, turning my head, I kissed it. Then, head down, kneeling back on my heels, arms extended, I proffered it to the Mistress.

"Excellent, Jason," she said.

"Thank you, Mistress," I said.

She sipped the wine, and regarded me contemptuously. Then she said, "Go back to your place."

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

I went back, beside the couch, and again knelt. She turned about and placed the cup of wine on the low desk and in a moment, was again deeply engaged in her work. I think she forgot that I was in the room. I knelt silently in the background. Occasionally, however, as the Ehn passed, she drank from the cup.

I was ignored and neglected. I would be summoned, if needed.

I glanced at the large, fur-strewn couch. I saw that there were chains, on rings, attached to it.

She at last, wearily, thrust back the papers and put down the marking pencil. She rose to her feet and stretched, and turned to look at me.

"Get on the couch," she said, "on your back."

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

She went to the right side of the couch and, in a routine and unconcerned fashion, lifted a shackle, on a chain, which she snapped shut on my right ankle. She then walked about the couch and, on the left, similarly secured my left ankle, She then, as I felt the movement through the left shackle, my leg pulled slightly to the left, adjusted that chain at the ring. She then walked about the bottom of the couch and, taking my right wrist, locked it on a manacle, at my right side. She then went about the head of the couch and, taking my left wrist, enclosed it, too, in a manacle, at my left side, which she then snapped shut. My left wrist was pulled further then to the left, as she adjusted the chain on the left manacle, fixing the length of its play by a snap ring thrust through a link and about the couch ring. My feet, then, had been well chained, and my hands, too, had been well chained, and a few inches from my sides. She had done these things with the same habitual routine, the same lack of attention and concern, with which she might have hung up a piece of wearing apparel or replaced a comb and brush on a vanity.

"Do you remember me. Jason?" she asked.

"I think so, Mistress," I said. "You were the slaver, were you not, who subjected me to such thorough assessment in the House of Andronicus?"

"You have a good eye for women, Jason," she said. "I was veiled."

"Thank you, Mistress," I said. "Yes, Mistress," I said.

"Did I frighten you, Jason?" she asked.

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"How I despise weakness in men," she said.

I did not speak.

"You are of Earth, are you not?" she asked.

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"The Lady Gina told me this," she said, "in the House of Andronicus. Too, it is on your papers."

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

She looked down at me, I a man of Earth, chained helplessly before her on her couch.

"Do the women of your world not despise weakness in men?" she asked.

"No, Mistress," I said. "They desire it."

"How do you know that?" she asked.

"It is what we have been taught," I said.

"Interesting," she said. "Are they, then, so different from all other women?"

"Perhaps, Mistress," I said. "I do not know."

"I wonder, then," she said, "if that is true, why the females brought here from Earth become such dreams of pleasure and submission for Gorean males."

"I do not know," I said.

"Surely you know that they, stripped and collared, thrown to the feet of strong men, make fantastic, yielding slave sluts?"

"I did not know, Mistress," I said. I knew nothing of Earth-girl slaves. I had heard, however, to be honest, that they were prized in certain markets, and often brought good prices. I supposed there must be some explanation for their economic value. I thought of poor Beverly Henderson. I hoped, somehow, she had managed to escape the cruel fate of female slavery. How piteous it would be if her beauty, so lovely and delicate, were simply to be rudely auctioned to the highest bidder. What an affront to her intelligence and personhood! Too, I thrust from my mind, frightened, the thought of what a joy it would be to own her.

"I find you interesting, Jason," said the Lady Tima. She went to a cabinet, and opened it, removing from it a slave whip.

I tensed.

"When I first saw you," she said, "I felt, for a moment, looking into your eyes, that they might be the eyes of a man. I thought this even though I had been informed you were of the planet Earth."

I did not speak.

"I thought, for a moment," she said, "looking into your eyes that they were the sort of eyes before which a woman fears that the lineaments of her features, even though veiled, may be clear to him under whose observation she finds herself. Indeed, she fears, as his eyes imperiously, casually, rove over her, that her beauty and needs, in spite of the intervening robes, the intervening layers of cloth, may be exposed as helplessly to him as those of a slave girl."

I did not speak. She moved the whip and its coils gently upon my body, half caressing it, half instructing it in its bondage.

"Please do not whip me," I said.

"But then," she said, "I discovered that you were not a man, but only a slave, and one who was despicably weak."