Incidentally, there are many brands on Gor. Two that almost never occur on Gor, by the way, are those of the moons and collar, and of the chain and claw. The first of these commonly occurs in certain of the Gorean enclaves on Earth, which serve as headquarters for agents of Priest-Kings; the second tends to occur in the lairs of Kurii agents on Earth; the first brand consists of a locked collar and, ascending diagonally above it, extending to the right, three quarter moons; this brand indicates the girl is subject to Gorean discipline; the chain-and-claw brand signifies, of course, slavery and subjection within the compass of the Kur yoke. It is apparently difficult to recruit Goreans for service on Earth, either for Priest-Kings or Kurii. Accordingly, usually native Earthlings are used. Glandularly sufficient men, strong, lustful, and vital, without their slave girls, would find Earth a very dismal place, a miserable and unhappy sexual desert. Strong men simply need women. This will never be understood by weak men. A strong man needs a woman at his feet, who is truly his. Anything else is less than his fulfillment. When a man has once eaten of the meat of gods he will never again chew on the straw of fools.

"You may withdraw," said Samos to the girl.

"Master," she begged him, tears in her eyes. "Please, Master."

A few months ago she had not been able to speak Gorean. She now spoke the language subtly and fluently. Girls learn swiftly to speak the language of their masters.

Samos looked up at her. She stood there, lovely, holding the tray before her, on which reposed the vessels, the tiny cups and glasses, the bowls, the spoons, the soft, dampened cloths on which we had wiped our hands. She had served well, beautifully, effacing herself, as a serving slave.

"Master," she whispered.

"Return the things to the kitchen," he said. I saw, from her eyes, that she was more than a serving slave. It is interesting, the power that a man may hold over a woman.

"Yes, Master," she said. When she had knelt facing Samos, she had knelt in the position of the pleasure slave. When she had knelt facing me, she had knelt in the position of the serving slave. Samos, it was said, was the first to have brought her to slave orgasm. It had happened six days after she had first been brought to his house. It is said that a woman who has experienced slave orgasm can never thereafter be anything but a man's slave. She then knows what men can do to her, and what she herself is, a woman. Never thereafter can she be anything else.

"Linda begs Master's touch," she said. The name 'Linda' had been her original Earth name. Samos had, after it had been removed from her, in her reduction to slavery, put it on her again, but this time as a slave name, by his will. Sometimes a girl is given her own name as a slave name; sometimes she is given another name; it depends on the master's will. She spoke freely before me of her need for his touch. She was no longer an inhibited, negatively conditioned Earth girl. She was now open and honest, and beautifully clean, in her slavery, in her confession of her female truths.

Seeing the eyes of Samos on her she quickly went to the door, to leave, but, at the door, unable to help herself, she turned about. There were tears in her eyes.

"After you have returned the things to the kitchen-" said Samos.

"Yes, Master," she said softly, excitedly. The small, yellow-enameled cups moved slightly on the tray. She trembled. The torchlight glinted from her collar.

"Go to your kennel," said Samos, "and ask to be locked within."

"Yes, Master," she said, putting her head down. I thought she shook with a sob.

"I hear from the chain master," said Samos, "that you have learned the tile dance creditably."

The tiny cups and glasses shook on the tray. "I am pleased," she said, "if Krobus should think so."

The tile dance is commonly performed on red tiles, usually beneath the slave ring of the master's couch. The girl performs the dance on her back; her stomach and sides. Usually her neck is chained to the slave ring. The dance signifies the. restlessness, the misery, of a love-starved slave girl. It is a premise of the dance that the girl moves and twists, and squirms, in her need, as if she is completely alone, as if her need is known only to herself; then, supposedly, the master surprises her, and she attempts to suppress the helplessness and torment of her needs; then, failing this, surrendering her pride in its final shred, she writhes openly, piteously, before him, begging him to deign to touch her. Needless to say, the entire dance is observed by the master, and this, in fact, of course, is known to both the dancer and her audience, the master. The tile dance, for simple psychological and behavioral reasons, having to do with the submission context and the motions of the body, can piteously arouse even a captured, cold free woman; in the case of a slave, of course, it can make her scream and sob with need.

"I hear that you have worked hard to perfect the tile dance," said Samos.

"I am only a poor slave," she said.

"The last five times you have performed this dance," said Samos, "Krobus tells me that he could not restrain himself from raping you."

She put down her head. "Yes, Master," she said, smiling. "After you have been locked in your kennel," said Samos, "ask for a vessel of warm water, oils and a cloth, and perfume. Bathe and perfume yourself. I may summon you later to my chamber."

"Yes, Master," she said, delightedly. "Yes, Master!"

"Slave!" he said.

"Yes, Master," she said, turning quickly.

"I am less easy to please than Krobus," he said. "Yes, Master," she said, and then turned and fled, swiftly, from the room.

"She is a pretty thing," I said.

Samos ran his tongue over his lips. "Yes," he said.

"I think you like her," I said.

"Nonsense," he said. "She is only a slave."

"Perhaps Samos has found a love slave," I said.

"An Earth girl?" laughed Samos.

"Perhaps," I said.

"Preposterous," said Samos. "She is only a slave, only a thing to serve, and to beat and abuse, if it should please me."

"But is not any slave," I asked, "even a love slave?"

"That is true," said Samos, smiling. Gorean men are not easy with their slaves, even those for whom they care deeply.

"I think Samos, first slaver of Port Kar, first captain of the council of captains, has grown fond of a blond Earth girl."

Samos looked at me, angrily. Then he shrugged. "She is the first girl I have felt in this fashion toward," he said. "It is interesting. It is a strange feeling."

"I note that you did not sell her," I said.

"Perhaps I shall," he said.

"I see," I said.

"The first time, even, that I took her in my arms," said Samos, "she was in some way piteously helpless, different even from the others."

"Is not any slave piteously helpless in the arms of her master?" I asked.

"Yes," said Samos. "But she seemed somehow different, incredibly so, vulnerably so."

"Perhaps she knew herself, in your touch, as her love master," I said.

"She felt good in my hands," he said.

"Be strong, Samos," I smiled.

"I shall," he said.

I did not doubt his word. Samos was one of the hardest of Gorean men. The blond Earth girl had found a strong, uncompromising master.

"But let us not speak of slaves," I said, "girls who serve for our diversion or recreation, but of serious matters, of the concerns of men."

"Agreed," said he.

There was a time for slaves, and a time for matters of importance.

"Yet there is little to report," said he, "in the affairs of worlds."

"The Kurii are quiet," I said.

"Yes," said he.

"Beware of a silent enemy," I smiled.