not have the opportunity,” said Donna.
“What?” said Tuza.
“Well, Mistresses,” said Donna, turning to Emerald and Hiza, “do you wish to feel the switch?”
“No,” said Emerald.
“No,” said Hiza.
“Then kiss it,” said Donna, “to show your fear of it, and your respect for it.”
“Never!” said Hiza.
The switch was then thrust to her lips, and Hiza, sullenly, kissed it. “Lick it, as well,” said Donna, not pleasantly.
I then watched the small, soft tongue of Hiza applying itself reluctantly, but obediently, to the supple instrument of discipline and authority.
The switch was then held a few inches before the face of Emerald, who bent forward and kissed it, and then, unbidden, licked it, carefully, delicately, tenderly. Emerald, I thought, is already in the collar.
How she might have driven a man mad with passion.
What a fine price she might bring!
“Like slaves!” said Tuza, regarding Hiza and Emerald with contempt.
“You, next,” said Donna to Tuza, and the switch was thrust against her lips.
“No!” said Tuza.
“Now,” said Donna.
Tuza then, as had Hiza and Emerald, kissed the switch. She was not required to do more. Perhaps it was felt that a tongue such as hers was unworthy of the switch.
“Mistress,” said Donna, to Darla, and Darla, then, as had Tuza, kissed the switch. She, too, was not required to do more.
“Suppose,” said Donna to the prisoners, “it had been not I, but a male who had held the switch.”
I saw from the reaction of Tuza and Darla that they had some sense of what the difference would have been. Are not men the natural masters? Too, men are seldom patient with us. Emerald trembled, and the knees of Hiza moved, uneasily in the dirt.
Memories flooded back upon me, as I had witnessed the preceding ritual. I recalled a warehouse, on a far world, when not a switch, but a whip, had been held before me, as I had lain on my back, bound helplessly, and I had lifted my head a little, and kissed it. “La Kajira,” I had said, as I had been bidden. At the time I did not know what it meant. I would soon learn. Those are commonly the first Gorean words a barbarian must utter. She will later learn their meaning. “I am a kajira,” “I am a female slave,” “I am a slave girl.” Let us suppose a city has fallen, buildings are roaring with flame, blood is in the streets, walls collapse, the air is thick with choking, stinging smoke. Perhaps a free woman flings herself to her knees, before the reddened sword of a helmeted enemy, ready to strike, drunk with the lust of killing and looting. The blade is poised. She throws back her hood and tears away her veils, and her mouth is exposed to the conqueror. “La kajira!” she cries. “I am a slave girl!” This formula, once spoken, is irrevocable. She is then a self-pronounced slave. A quick, abrupt gesture of the sword and she must disrobe, immediately, completely. Her hands are then tied behind her, and she must hurry behind her captor, struggling to keep up, later to be penned with other slaves amongst whom, as she lacks the brand and collar, she is unlikely to be well treated. Her first sale, as her captor may wish to put her up for sale, might occur that very night, following her marking and collaring. Her life has changed.
Donna then stepped back.
“On your feet, dear, noble Mistresses,” she said. “There is work to be done. First you will gather boughs, to make soft beds for the masters. I have seen promising boughs near the edge of the camp. That will make things easy for you. You will not even need a guard.”
The prisoners rose to their feet, in their rope coffle. Then, following a gesture of the switch, they began to move toward the side of the camp, away from the river. I saw, with some satisfaction, they did not know how to move in coffle. Even slaves know that, especially, I supposed, slaves. “Stop, stupid Mistresses!” called Donna. “Left foot, the first step is with the left foot! Do you know nothing? You are being marched. Later, in gathering boughs, you may move independently. We will begin again. Now, move!”
The four prisoners then, with short steps, and a rustle of shackle chains, began to move again, carefully, slowly, toward the edge of the camp.
“Better,” said Donna.
They must pass amongst the men to exit the camp. I saw their bodies tighten. Their heads were up, and they looked