held the whip to her lips, and she kissed it, and then, softly, licked it, and then looked up at him.
He then replaced the whip on the wall.
“See where it is?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“It may do you good,” he said, “from time to time, to look over here, and see it.”
“Yes, sir,” she said.
He entered upon the bed.
He drew her down a little, from the head of the bed.
She looked up at him.
“If you are going to be a man,” she said, “then I will have no choice but to be a woman.”
He touched her, softly, delicately.
“Ohhh,” she said, softly.
“A woman under contract,” said Brenner, “should be beautiful, humble, and useful.”
“It is my hope that I am beautiful,” she said.
“And?” asked Brenner.
She, now on her back, turned her head to her right, and looked at the whip, on its peg on the wall.
“I am humble,” she assured him.
He again touched her, and she squirmed, helplessly. “Oh,” she said, softly, “oh!” Her small wrists, encircled in the bracelets, moved behind her back. “Oh!” she breathed.
He kissed her.
“It is my hope,” she whispered, “that I will prove useful.”
“I will see to it,” said Brenner.
“Yes, sir,” she whispered.
* * *
Some time later he had freed her wrists of the bracelets, but he had not seen fit, for whatever whim, to release her neck from the clasp of the collar, this, by means of the chain, fastening her to the bar at the head of the bed. To be sure, lest it be feared that he was showing her too little respect, and even treating her as though she might not be free, but bond, a vendible article, a property, a domestic animal, it might be mentioned that slaves are often chained not on the bed itself, but at the foot of the bed, on the floor, and used there, upon covers or furs. It is not a foregone conclusion, you see, that a slave is permitted upon the surface of a bed, or couch. It is something of an honor for a slave, or a privilege, for her to be permitted there. It is something to obtain which she may have to strive for months, for which she, though a mere slave, must try to prove herself worthy. The passage to the surface of the couch is one calling for heat, devotion, and dutifulness. It is not something, strictly, which she can earn, for its gift is in the treasury of the master, and no bargains are struck with slaves, but it is something for which she may eventually hope, assuming that her zeal and her increasing slave excellences render such a hope not unrealistic.
“If you bought my contract, would you free me?” she asked.
“I cannot afford your contract,” he said. This was clear, as she was a free woman. Such contracts were not cheap. Even a moderate one would cost some thousands of Commonworld credits. It was not like the openly stratified worlds, where slaves were numerous, and cheap, where even a poor man such as Brenner might, if he wished, have had three or four, particularly if they were merely hot and comely.
“Do you wish you could afford my contract?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, “for I should then be well-to-do.”
“But if you could buy it,” she said, “would you do so?”
“Perhaps I could be convinced,” he said.
“I would do my best to convince you,” she whispered.
“Yes,” he said. “If I could afford your contract, I would buy it.”
“Let us suppose you could afford it,” she said.
“Very well,” said Brenner.
“If you bought it, would you free me?” she asked.
Brenner considered the matter. “No,” he said.
“Good,” she said, snuggling against him.
* * *
Later, Brenner, as the whim had seized him, had again back-braceleted her. This, too, if nothing else, helped to control her active, hot little hands. She was so eager, so exciting, so alive.
Then, a Commonworld hour later, after an intimacy that had taught him something of what it might be, to be a woman’s master, he had, after extinguishing the light, dozed off. Then it seemed but a moment later, though doubtless it was more, he had been awakened, by her whimpering. He became aware of her near him. He heard her pull a little, helplessly, against the bracelets which held her small wrists pinioned behind her. She was on her side, on an elbow, leaning over him. “Please,” she whispered. “Please!”
He lay there, quietly.
“Are you awake?” she whispered.
“Yes,” he said.
“Please,” she said. “Please!”
“What is it?” he asked.
“I beg your