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"Perhaps they may be taught," mused the other girl.
"Any woman may be taught," I told her.
"That is true," she smiled. Then she jerked the leash of the kneeling girl.
"Have me for a tarsk bit, Master," cried the kneeling girl, her tunic parted,
looking up at me.
She who had been Miss Henderson, now kneeling before me, had asked to be had
by me, and for a tarsk bit.
She looked up at me, piteously.
"You are a female, and he is a man," said the girl who held the leash.
"Interest him."
"Please, Mistress," begged the girl.
"Bite at his tunic, and lick at his legs and feet," commanded the girl who
held the leash.
Softly then did the bell of the Coin Girl sound, and the chain and coin box on
her neck, as she who had once been Miss Henderson turned her head to the side,
and began, with her small, fine white teeth, to bite and nibble at the hem of
my tunic. I felt these small tugs, piteous. and delicate, and then she, with
her lips, pressed the wet tunic against my thigh and through the wet cloth,
kissed me. She then, putting her head down, began to lick and kiss at my legs
and ,feet. She performed this submission behavior for several minutes,
piteously, desperately, beseechingly, entreatingly. Then, at last, her head
down, over my feet, she whispered, begging, "Please have me for a tarsk bit,
Master.
Please have me for only a tarsk bit, Master."
"No," I told her. "Of course not."
She looked up, startled, dismayed.
"Do you think I respect you so little?" I asked.
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"You have failed to interest him," said the girl who held the leash. She
shortened the leash and, her fist almost at the girl's collar, jerked it taut,
pulling the girl's head up and back straight. Women are very beautiful
kneeling in this position.
"But I am a slave," protested the kneeling girl, looking up at me.
"I can see that," I said.
"Have you not wanted to have me, many times?" she asked. "Was I so wrong in
sensing that?"
"No," I said.
"Then have me," she said. "I am half-naked before you. I am yours for a tarsk
bit. Take me!"
`Surely you would not expect me to press myself upon you, with you at your
present disadvantage," I said.
"Disadvantage!" she said. "I am a slavel You are free, but I am a slave. I am
a slave gull"
"Yes," I said.
"Look upon me," she said. "Do you think I am to be freed?"
"No," I said.
"Gorean men will always keep me in a collar," she said.
"Yes," I said. I wondered if she knew how truly she spoke.
"Take me," she begged. "Take me!"
"Surely you do not think that I am a bounder, or a cad?" I said.
She sobbed suddenly in frustration.
"On your feet, Slave," said the girl with the leash, giving her a yard of
strap, that she might rise. "You have failed to interest him."
"Please let me try further, Mistress!" begged the kneeling girl. "Please!"
"On your feet," said the girl with the leash, jerking on the leash. Sobbing,
the beautiful, leashed slave rose to her feet. Fumbling, she closed her tunic,
and tied shut the binding fiber which belted it. It seemed she could hardly
stand. She trembled, and wept.
"What is wrong?" I asked.
"She is a worthless slave," said the girl with the leash. "Look!" She shook
the coin box on the girl's neck chain and shook it. "Empty!" she said,
scornfully. She then struck the girl twice about the legs with the strap. "We
have been out for Ahn," said the girl with the leash, "and we have passed many
masters, not one of whom would deign to have her."
"Why is she crying?" I asked.
"She fears, rightfully, her master's displeasure," she said.
I nodded. It is very natural for a slave girl, who is completely at the mercy
of her master, and is owned by him, to be very sensitive as to whether or not
he is pleased with her.
"Perhaps he is a lenient fellow," I suggested.
"He is a merciless brute, who has more girls than he needs," said the girl
holding the leash.
"What will be done with her?" I asked.
"At the least she will receive a severe beating," said the girl with the
leash. "If he is in an ugly mood, she may be tortured and slain."
The leashed girl, sobbing, fell on her knees before the girl who held her
leash. She put her head to her feet. "Please, Mistress," she begged, "do not
take me in yetl"
"It is late," said the girl with the leash. "It is past the nineteenth Ahn.
That you should be out now is even against the agreements of the renters of
Coin Girls."
"Please, Mistress!" begged the girl.
"On your feet," said the girl with the leash. "You are now to be led back to
your master, as a failed slave."
"Wait!" I said.
The kneeling girl, turning, regarded me wildly.
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"Yes, Master?" said the girl with the leash.
"I have a tarsk bit here," I said, opening my pouch. "She need not return with
the coin box empty." I smiled at the leashed girl. "It is the least I can do,"
I said to her, kindly. She was looking up at me, frightened. I went to deposit
the coin in the coin box on the kneeling girl's neck chain, but the hand of
the other girl, she who held the kneeling girl's leash, interposed itself.
"There can be no payment, without the rendering of services," she said. "The
honor of my Master must not be offended."
I drew back, holding the coin.
The kneeling girl, she who had once been Miss Beverly Henderson, once a
graduate student in English literature at a major university in the New York
City area, eyed the coin, fearfully. She feared I would replace it in my
pouch.
"I will endeavor to be worthy of the tarsk bit, Master," she whispered.
"A Coin Girl," said the girl with the leash, "will struggle to please a man as
much for a tarsk bit, as a high paga slave for a thousand gold pieces, to be
paid by her master's customer for her use."
"I see," I said.
"The levels of skill in the Coin Girl, of course," said the girl with the
leash, "are commonly much lower." This was true, of course. Yet it must be
mentioned that sometimes Coin Girls are extremely skillful. Too, it is not
unknown for a master to sometimes send even an exquisitely trained, beautiful
high slave into the streets, usually as a joke or a discipline. Such a girl
knows that she must perform superbly. Some of the men she falls in with may
have been hired by her master, to report back on the quality of her services.
The girl with the leash drew back her hand, it then no longer shielding the
opening on the coin box. "You understand the conditions?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"Please, Please, Master," said the kneeling girl, tears in her eyes, "put the
coin in my coin box. You will not regret it."
I hesitated. I looked at her.
"I beg to please Master," she said clearly.
"You," I asked, as though disbelievingly, "you beg to please a man?"
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Whom?" I asked.
"You, my Master," she said. "I beg to please you, my Master."
"As a slave?" I asked.
"Yes, Master," she said, "I beg to please you-as a slave."
I dropped the coin into the narrow, metal coin box. I thought the girl would
almost faint with relief, and pleasure. Too, I saw another emotion in her
eyes, which was harder to fathom.
The girl with the leash bent down to a nearby slave ring. Such things are
common in Gorean streets. They are usually mounted in a wall, a foot to a yard
above the walk or pavement. This one was mounted about a foot above the
street, and was ahead of me and to my right, a bit behind the kneeling girl,
and to her left. "There," said the girl, knotting the end of the leash about
the ring.
Usually, at such rings, slaves are on a short leash or chain, and are fastened
to them on their knees. If the slave is braceleted to the ring and the ring is [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]