“Would you free me, Master,” she asked, “if I begged to be freed?”
“No,” he said.
“Good,” she said.
“You are too beautiful, too exciting, too desirable, to be freed,” he said.
“I hope to please my master,” she said.
She then held his leg, and licked his thigh.
“Slave!” said Tuza.
“Disgusting!” said Darla.
“I am a slave,” she said. “It fulfills me to lick my master’s thigh.”
“Yes,” whispered Emerald, softly.
“Who knows,” said Donna to Tuza and Darla, “the time may come when you two will beg to lick a master’s thigh.”
Emerald moaned, softly.
“What is wrong with you?” Hiza asked Emerald.
“Do not be concerned, Hiza,” said Donna. “There is a nice turn to your belly, and, in time, your hair will grow out.”
“I cut it short!” she said.
“Who knows?” said Donna. “A master might not permit that.”
Hiza shrank back a bit in her bonds, and pulled at the laces confining her wrists behind her back.
“Perhaps,” said Donna, “you will long for longer hair, that you may be more pleasing to him.”
The leader then motioned that Donna should rise. She did so. He then returned the switch to her.
This was regarded with some apprehension by the prisoners, as the switch may easily be taken not simply as an instrument of improvement, and such, but a symbol of authority.
“Put them in close shackles,” said the leader, “and then free their hands. Keep the rope on their necks. If they attempt to remove it, cut off their hands.”
Shortly thereafter the ankles of each prisoner had been shackled. The play of chain would allow them only small steps. Their hands were then freed. They remained kneeling, in coffle.
Donna stood over them, switch in hand.
“Do you think it wise,” said Tuza, rubbing her wrists, “that we should be granted such freedom? We are Panther Women.”
“Do you still think you are Panther Women?” asked Donna.
“Of course,” said Tuza.
“Interesting,” said Donna.
“Are we not?” asked Tuza.
“No,” said Donna.
“You would dare to grant us the freedom of our hands?” said Tuza.
“Yes,” said Donna.
“But why?” asked Tuza.
“That you might busy yourselves about the camp,” she said.
“I do not understand,” said Tuza.
“There are many things to do,” said Donna. “Water is to be fetched, berries are to be picked, wood is to be gathered, the fire is to be tended, meals are to be prepared, the camp is to be tidied, soft boughs are to be gathered for the men to recline upon, many things.”
“You cannot be serious,” said Tuza.
“We are free women,” said Darla.
“We dare not go into the forest shackled, naked, and unarmed,” said Tuza. “There are wild tarsk, sleen, forest bosk, panthers!”
“A man will accompany you,” said Donna. “He will protect you. Your lives will be in his hands, completely.”
“Give us clothing,” said Tuza. “Men look upon us with impunity.”
“It is much like being a slave, is it not?” asked Donna.
“Give us back at least the shreds of our forest raiment, that it be resewn, that we may be covered,” said Darla.
“You would be again presumptuously and arrogantly garmented in the skins of beasts, as though you were men, proud hunters and rovers?” said Donna.
“Please,” said Tuza.
“You are no longer entitled to such pretenses and posturings,” said Donna. “Your garmenture henceforth, if garmenture is permitted to you, will be in accord with your sex.”
“Not the bundling absurdities inflicted on allegedly free women!” said Tuza.
“No!” cried Darla. “You would not dare to put us in such degrading garments, so enveloping, so cumbersome, so abundant, so hobbling, so layered, with hoods and veils, the garments of small, soft creatures of interest to men, educated, perfumed, pampered, and refined, meaningless, weak little animals, conforming little animals, mindlessly trapped in the cages of convention.”
“When such come to us, we sell them,” scoffed Tuza.
“Men like them,” said Darla. “They crawl nicely under the whip. They are pretty in chains.”
“They are not large, strong, hard, and coarse,” said Tuza.
“Do you think me hard and coarse?” asked Donna.
“No longer,” said Tuza, scornfully. “Now you are soft!”
“I like being soft,” said Donna.
“Slave!” said Tuza.
“And you, too, are soft,” said Donna.
“No!” said Tuza and Darla.
“Regard yourself in a mirror, your reflection in still water,” said Donna.
“Do not put us in the garmenture of the women of the cities,” said Tuza.
“We will not wear such degrading, colorful, cumbersome, lengthy, inhibiting, silken things, the vanities and affectations of weak, meaningless women,” said Darla.
“Then, go naked,” said Donna.
“No!” wept Tuza.
“We might wear such things, perhaps for a time!” said Darla.