Post by sweetlarma on May 23, 2008 18:04:45 GMT -5
Buy me, Master," begged the girl, kneeling before Drusus
Rencius. "I will give you much pleasure."
"Next!" barked the trainer, in the house of Kliomenesy
The next girl hurried forward and knelt before Drusus
Rencius, kissing his feet, and then lifting her head, piteously,
to him. "Buy me, Master," she said. "I will give you much
pleasure.."
"Next!" barked the trainer.
The next woman then hurried to Drusus and, threw herself
to her belly before him, kissing his feet. She then rose slowly
to hcr knees, kissing him from the ankles to the waist.
Kneeling before him, then, close to him, holding his legs she
looked up at him. "Buy me, Master," she whispered. "I will
give you much pleasure."
How furious I was that these women were being sent to the
feet of Drusus Rencius. They were naked and beautiful, but
who would want to buy them? They were only slaves. That
could be told by the collars they wore, bars of rounded iron
which, here, in the house, had been curved about their necks
and hammered shut. I stood in the background, angry,
braceleted, helpless.
"You!" said the trainer, gesturing to another girl with his
Whip. "To his feetl Beg for love!"
This girl hurried forward and knelt before Drusus Rencius.
"I beg for love, Master," she whispered.
"You!" said the trainer, indicating another girl. She, too,
hurried forward. She knelt before Drusus Rencius, her palms
on the floor, her head to the very tiles. "I beg for love," she
whispered. "I beg for love, Master."
I was startled. I realized, suddenly, that these two women,
indeed, were begging for love. "Beg elsewhere, very *friendly* persons!" I
thought. "Leave Drusus Rencius alone!" And how offensive
that a woman should beg for love! Surely her intimate, des-
perate needs for attention, for affection and love were better
concealed even from herself, if possible, and certai~y, at
least, from others! And if they must beg, the helpless very *friendly* persons,
did they not know how a woman be~, by looks, by glances,
by small, hopeful services. Surely a woman should not be ex-
pected to speak honestly in such matters. What brute would
force her to such extremities? Too, how vulnerable a woman
would make herself, placing herself so at the mercy of men,
subject to being spurned, subject to his scorn and rejection.
Yet how simple, how straightforward and liberating might be
such a confession. How beautiful it might be to so express
one's vulnerability, and femininity, so tenderly, so piteously,
so openly. To be sure, one would expect such a confession
only from a woman whose needs were both desperate and
deep, a woman who had needs such as might characterize
slaves.
"Come along," said Hermidorus.
"Please, Drusus," I said. "My hands have been braceleted
long enough. I am beginning to feel too helpless, too much
like a slave. Please release me."
"I will release you in the room," he said. I then continued to follow
him, sfill braceleted, through the alleys, toward the inn of Lysias.
"Slowly, more humbly," cautioned the trainer, half
crouching over, watching carefully, moving slowly beside the
girl. Then he moved about her, more quickly, varying his per-
spective. Then he moved to the end of the room, where he
might wait for her to approach. "Head lower," he said. "Bet-
ter, better." I watched her approach him, head down, on her
hands and knees, her breasts depending beautifully. Then she
dropped the whip from her teeth before his booted feet. She
then remained there, head down, in position. "Better," he
said. He then picked up the whip and tossed it across the
tiles. "Again," he said. She then rose lightly to her feet and
hurried to the whip, where, once more, she dropped to her
hands and knees. She picked up the whip delicately in her
teeth, and looked at him. He snapped his fingers. Again, then,
head down, slowly, she approached him, the whip held in her
mouth.
"Kneel, back on your heels," said the trainer to the dark
baired woman. "Straighten your back, suck in your gut, put
your shoulders back, thrust out your breasts, spread your
knees, widely, lift your chin, put your hands on your thighs.
You are not going to be sold as a tower slave, Lady Tina.
You are going to be sold as a pleasure slave."
The whip cracked, and I jumped. But it had not touched
the girl, only startled her.
She knelt behind the dark, smooth post, facing it, her knees
on either side of it, her belly and breasts against it, her hands
embracing it.
"'this may be done to music," said Hermidorus, "and, as
you know, there are many versions to the post dance, or pole
dance, singly, or with more than one girl, with or without
bonds, wand so on, but here we are using it merely as a train-
ing exercise.
The whip cracked again and the girl, suddenly and lascivi-
ously, became active.
I gasped.
She began to writhe about the pole. "Kiss it, caress it, love
It!" commanded the trainer, snapping the whip. "Now more
slowly, now scarcely moving, now use your thighs, and
breasts more, moving all about it, holding it. Touch it with
your tongue, lick it! Use the inside of your thighs more, your
breasts, turn about it, slowly, sensuously. Lift your hands
above your head, palms to the pole, caressing it. Turn about
the pole! Twist about it! Now to your knees, holding it!" He
then cracked the whip again. "Enough!" he said. She was
then as she had been before, kneeling behind the post, her
knees on either side of it, her belly and breasts pressed
against it, her hands embracing it. The girl was looking at
me. She was wondering, perhaps, if I were the next to be put
to the post. I looked away, angrily. Did she not know I was
[1ot a lowly thing like she? Did she not know I was free?
"It is a useful exercise," said Hermidorus to Drusus.
'Obviously," agreed Drusus.
I looked back at the girl. She was now looking away. I
looked at the post. It was dark, and shiny. It had been pole
ished smooth, apparently, by the bodies of many girls.
The girl looked suddenly at me. There was a hostility in
our looks toward one another. She saw, I think, in my eyes,
that I thought I could have done better at the post than she.
Then I looked away. What would I care for her opinionsi
Were we competitive women?
"Come along," said Hermidorus.
"These women," said Hermidorus, "are practicing their
floor movements."
A trainer stood among them, with a whip. Occasionally he
would snap this whip near a girl. I did not doubt but what
the girls on the tiles, if they were found sufficiently displeas-
ing to the trainer, or too frequently required the admonitory
signal of the cracking leather, would soon hear the snap of
the lash not in their mere vicinity but on their own bared
bodies. Two of the girls, I saw, had stripes on them, one on
the thigh, and one on the side. The trainer was not now pay.
ing them much attention. They were now, apparently, doing
well.
"Come along," said Hermidorus.
"How beautiful!" I breathed.
Drusus Rencius looked sharply at me. I feared for a mo
ment I might be struck.
Hermidorus, on the other hand, did not seem to notice. My
exclamation, perhaps, had seemed sufficiently inadvertent,
involuntary and irrepressible, to be ignored; or perhaps it was
to be ignored because I was not a slave, but a free woman. I
did not meet Drusus Rencius's eyes. It was not like I had just
decided to speak and had spoken. In a place like this I did
not know if I was subject to discipline or not. I did not think
so, for I was a free woman. On the other hand I knew I was
here on the sufferance of the house of Kijomenes. Indeed, on
these premises, I knew that Drusus Rencius even held a li-
cense on me.
The drummer and the flautist prepared once more to play.
The girl in the long, light chain smiled at me. She, at any
rate, was pleased by my response.
A wrist ring was fastened on her right wrist. The long,
slender, gleaming chain was fastened to this and, looping
down and up, ascended gracefully to a wide chain ring on
her collar, through which it freely passed, thence descending,
looping down, and ascending, looping up, gracefully, to the
left wrist ring. If she were to stand quietly, the palms of her
hands ~n her thighs, the lower portions of the chain, those
two dangling loops, would have been about at the level of her
knees, just a little higher. The higher portion of the chain, of
course, would be at the collar loop.
The musicians began again to play. There is much that
can be done with such a chain. It wa~ a dancing chain. Its
purpose was not to confine the girl but to allow her to incor-
porate it in her dance, enhancing the dance with its move-
ments and beauty. It is, of course, symbolic of her bondage,
this adding fantastic dimensions of significance to the dance.
It is not merely a beautiful woman who dances, but one who
can be bought and sold, one who is subject to male owner-
ship. Too, of course, the wrist rings, and the collar, are truly
locked on her. There is no doubt about it. It is a slave, with
all that that means, who is dancing.
I watc,hed her, my breath almost taken away by her beauty.
"She is a valuable woman," said Hermidorus.
I did not doubt it.
"'Come along," he said.
We are readying her for her sale," said Hermidorus.
I watched her naked on the block, under the tutelage of a
whip-carrying trainer. It was small, rounded room, with mir-
rors. He was putting her through slave paces.
"She is to be auctioned in five days," said Hermidorus.
My eyes and those of the girl met. At that instant her
weight was on the pahns of her hands, her arms straight, and
the sides of her feet, her body lifted from the block, her legs
~ight and spread widely behind her.
I realized then, with a shock, that she was going to be soli
Then she was being put through further slave paces.
"Come along," said Hermidorus.
I was trembling. The hand of Drusus Rencius on my arm
drew me, bodily, from the room.
'I have changed my mind!" wept the girl. "I will be pleas-
ing! I will be pleasing!"
I looked through the heavy bars of the cell, some three
inches in thickness, reinforced with crosspieces, to the op-
posite wall. It was hard to see. There, kneeling on straw, try-
ing to pull towards us, her wrists tied behind her hack to a
ring set in the wall, was a blond girl. "I will be pleasing!" she
wept. "I will be pleasing! I will be pleasing!"
I then turned away from her, following Hermidorus and
Drusus Rencius.
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"She is not yet begging to be pleasing," said Hermidorus to
Drusus.
"Correct," he said.
I looked behind myself, following them, at the dark cells,
most of them empty, along the corridor. This was certainly
not my favorite part of the house. It was dark, and cold, and
clammy. Occasionally my bare feet stepped in puddles of
cold water, seeped to this level, and caught in concavities or
irregularities in the corridor flooring. And, here and there, I
could see passages, narrow, crooked and dark, leading to
even lower levels. I was pleased that we were not going to
traverse them. It had seemed frightening enough to me to
come even to this level. Sometimes, in our descent, bn cat-
walks, we had even passed over pit cells, little more than
holding holes, ceilinged with locked iron gates, sunk in the
floor of the corridor. I had cried out with misery and terror
in passing over one of these for a large hand, emerging sud
denly through the grating, had seized my ankle. Drusus Ren-
cius had pried open the fingers 'and thrust the hand away. I
then kept closely to the center of the catwalks. There were
male slaves in this house, too, I had learned. Had the slave
known I was free, I do not think he would have touched me.
He might have remained crouching in his hole, thinking what
thoughts he might, but I do not think he would have dared to
touch me. A male slave can be slain for touching a free
woman. "She is not here for punishment," Hermidorus had
informed the dark shapes beneath the grating. I then realized
that a slave girl, perhaps for purposes of her discipline, might
be lowered through the grating hole, doubtless into eager
hands, the grating then being resecured.
In the corridors, in our movements through them, particu-
larly in the upper levels, we would sometimes encounter
slaves, usually employed in domestic tasks, such as running
errands, carrying burdens, dusting or cleaning. These women
were usually naked, except for their collars, which, I
gathered, was the way women were usually kept in a slaver's
house. At the approach of the free men, Hermidorus and
Drusus, they would immediately position themselves, usually
with their knees wide, kneeling back on their heels, their
heads up, their bands on their thighs, in the position I had
come to understand was that of the pleasure slave, but some-
times, instead; kneeling with the palms of their hands on the
tiles, their heads down, too, to the same tiles.
There was one temporary, partial exception to this, which I
wrn mention. Mter we had left some carpeted corridors,
higher in the house, and were moving to the lower levels, and
traversing heavy, ftagstonelike tiles, we approached a slender,
dark-haired girl who, on her hands and knees, in chains, with
a bucket of water, cloths and a brush, in that portion of the
corridor, was scrubbing tiles.
As we approached, she oriented herself towards us, palms
of her hands on the floor, and put her head to the tiles. But,
as we neared her, she lifted her head, desperately.
"Hermidorus!" she cried, suddenly. "Hermidonis!"
He stopped before her, a few feet from her, and we
stopped, too, behind him.
"Do you not know me?" she begged. The chain she wore
was a work sirik. It resembles the common sink but the
wrists, to permit work, are granted about a yard of chain.
Like the common sirik, it is a lovely chain. Women are beau-
tiful in it. "Deirdre!" she cried. "Deirdre! Two years ago ill
Ar we lived in the same building!"
He looked at her, not speaking.
"Deirdre," she whimpered.
"In the instant you were imbonded, you ceased to be
Girl,' be said.
"Girl?" she said.
"what is your house name?" be asked.
"Oh, no," she said. "Not you! Not you, of all people! You
not see me as a slave! You could not see me as a slave! I
you. That would be impossible! You could not relate to
as though I might be a slave! You could not! One such as
would never enforce my slavery upon me! One such as
you could never do so!" Then she looked up at him, her lower
lip trembling. "'Renata' is my house name," she said.
He then removed the belt from his tunic. The accouter-
ments on it he handed to Drusus Rencius.
"You lifted your head from the tile position before free
persons had passed you, Renata," he said. "You also
addressed a free man twice by his name. Similarly your
speech has been inadequately deferential. It has not beeti in-
terspersed1 ~9t appropri.~te poilits, for example, l)y the cx
pression 'Master.' You ll~'ivc al~o referred to yourself a~
though you might sf111 be ~Deirdre..' Such falsificatious of
identity are not permitted to slaves. Deirdue is gone. In her
place there is now only a slave, an animal, who must wear
whatever name masters choose to put on her. Similarly, when
asked a question, that pertaining to your house name, you did
not respond with sufficient promptness. Do you understand
all that I am saying, fully and clearly, Renata?"
She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "Yes, Master1" she
said.
"On all fours, Renata," he said.
"Yes, Master," she sobbed, assuming this position.
"Perhaps you should precede us a few paces down the
hall," said Drusus Rencius to me.
I moved, frightened, a few feet down the hall, not looking. Then, suddenly, I heard the belt beginning to fall, sharp-
ly, on the girl. I turned in time to see her on her side, in her
chains, receiving the last few blows. She had not been pleas-
ing. She was a slave. Of course she was being punished.
Then Hermidorus, without further ado, took back his ac-
couterments from Drusus and slipped them on his belt. He
then fastened the belt again about his waist.
I was startled that one such as he, seemingly so scholarly
and gentle, possessed such uncompromising strength. The fe-
male had learned, to her sorrow, that in his presence she
would not be permitted the least slackness in her discipline.
"I am sorry for the interruption," Hermidorus apologized
to Diusus Rencius.
œœThat is perfectly all right," said Drusus.
The girl lay on her stomach, in her chains, in the water on
the tiles. She lifted her head, gazing in pain, disbelief and
awe at Hermidorus. She was a slave who had not been pleas-
ing. She had been put under his belt.
We then continued down the hallway.
"Master," she called out, "I want to lay for you! I want to
lay for you! Please have me sent to your rooms! I want to lay
for you!"
Hermidorus did not look back.
I looked back. I saw in the girl's eyes that she now knew
she was a slave, and helplessly so, and that she loved him.
We continued on our way.
I wotidered if he would have her sent to his rooms. The
decisioi' was his. She was a slave.
Kajira ch 9
Rencius. "I will give you much pleasure."
"Next!" barked the trainer, in the house of Kliomenesy
The next girl hurried forward and knelt before Drusus
Rencius, kissing his feet, and then lifting her head, piteously,
to him. "Buy me, Master," she said. "I will give you much
pleasure.."
"Next!" barked the trainer.
The next woman then hurried to Drusus and, threw herself
to her belly before him, kissing his feet. She then rose slowly
to hcr knees, kissing him from the ankles to the waist.
Kneeling before him, then, close to him, holding his legs she
looked up at him. "Buy me, Master," she whispered. "I will
give you much pleasure."
How furious I was that these women were being sent to the
feet of Drusus Rencius. They were naked and beautiful, but
who would want to buy them? They were only slaves. That
could be told by the collars they wore, bars of rounded iron
which, here, in the house, had been curved about their necks
and hammered shut. I stood in the background, angry,
braceleted, helpless.
"You!" said the trainer, gesturing to another girl with his
Whip. "To his feetl Beg for love!"
This girl hurried forward and knelt before Drusus Rencius.
"I beg for love, Master," she whispered.
"You!" said the trainer, indicating another girl. She, too,
hurried forward. She knelt before Drusus Rencius, her palms
on the floor, her head to the very tiles. "I beg for love," she
whispered. "I beg for love, Master."
I was startled. I realized, suddenly, that these two women,
indeed, were begging for love. "Beg elsewhere, very *friendly* persons!" I
thought. "Leave Drusus Rencius alone!" And how offensive
that a woman should beg for love! Surely her intimate, des-
perate needs for attention, for affection and love were better
concealed even from herself, if possible, and certai~y, at
least, from others! And if they must beg, the helpless very *friendly* persons,
did they not know how a woman be~, by looks, by glances,
by small, hopeful services. Surely a woman should not be ex-
pected to speak honestly in such matters. What brute would
force her to such extremities? Too, how vulnerable a woman
would make herself, placing herself so at the mercy of men,
subject to being spurned, subject to his scorn and rejection.
Yet how simple, how straightforward and liberating might be
such a confession. How beautiful it might be to so express
one's vulnerability, and femininity, so tenderly, so piteously,
so openly. To be sure, one would expect such a confession
only from a woman whose needs were both desperate and
deep, a woman who had needs such as might characterize
slaves.
"Come along," said Hermidorus.
"Please, Drusus," I said. "My hands have been braceleted
long enough. I am beginning to feel too helpless, too much
like a slave. Please release me."
"I will release you in the room," he said. I then continued to follow
him, sfill braceleted, through the alleys, toward the inn of Lysias.
"Slowly, more humbly," cautioned the trainer, half
crouching over, watching carefully, moving slowly beside the
girl. Then he moved about her, more quickly, varying his per-
spective. Then he moved to the end of the room, where he
might wait for her to approach. "Head lower," he said. "Bet-
ter, better." I watched her approach him, head down, on her
hands and knees, her breasts depending beautifully. Then she
dropped the whip from her teeth before his booted feet. She
then remained there, head down, in position. "Better," he
said. He then picked up the whip and tossed it across the
tiles. "Again," he said. She then rose lightly to her feet and
hurried to the whip, where, once more, she dropped to her
hands and knees. She picked up the whip delicately in her
teeth, and looked at him. He snapped his fingers. Again, then,
head down, slowly, she approached him, the whip held in her
mouth.
"Kneel, back on your heels," said the trainer to the dark
baired woman. "Straighten your back, suck in your gut, put
your shoulders back, thrust out your breasts, spread your
knees, widely, lift your chin, put your hands on your thighs.
You are not going to be sold as a tower slave, Lady Tina.
You are going to be sold as a pleasure slave."
The whip cracked, and I jumped. But it had not touched
the girl, only startled her.
She knelt behind the dark, smooth post, facing it, her knees
on either side of it, her belly and breasts against it, her hands
embracing it.
"'this may be done to music," said Hermidorus, "and, as
you know, there are many versions to the post dance, or pole
dance, singly, or with more than one girl, with or without
bonds, wand so on, but here we are using it merely as a train-
ing exercise.
The whip cracked again and the girl, suddenly and lascivi-
ously, became active.
I gasped.
She began to writhe about the pole. "Kiss it, caress it, love
It!" commanded the trainer, snapping the whip. "Now more
slowly, now scarcely moving, now use your thighs, and
breasts more, moving all about it, holding it. Touch it with
your tongue, lick it! Use the inside of your thighs more, your
breasts, turn about it, slowly, sensuously. Lift your hands
above your head, palms to the pole, caressing it. Turn about
the pole! Twist about it! Now to your knees, holding it!" He
then cracked the whip again. "Enough!" he said. She was
then as she had been before, kneeling behind the post, her
knees on either side of it, her belly and breasts pressed
against it, her hands embracing it. The girl was looking at
me. She was wondering, perhaps, if I were the next to be put
to the post. I looked away, angrily. Did she not know I was
[1ot a lowly thing like she? Did she not know I was free?
"It is a useful exercise," said Hermidorus to Drusus.
'Obviously," agreed Drusus.
I looked back at the girl. She was now looking away. I
looked at the post. It was dark, and shiny. It had been pole
ished smooth, apparently, by the bodies of many girls.
The girl looked suddenly at me. There was a hostility in
our looks toward one another. She saw, I think, in my eyes,
that I thought I could have done better at the post than she.
Then I looked away. What would I care for her opinionsi
Were we competitive women?
"Come along," said Hermidorus.
"These women," said Hermidorus, "are practicing their
floor movements."
A trainer stood among them, with a whip. Occasionally he
would snap this whip near a girl. I did not doubt but what
the girls on the tiles, if they were found sufficiently displeas-
ing to the trainer, or too frequently required the admonitory
signal of the cracking leather, would soon hear the snap of
the lash not in their mere vicinity but on their own bared
bodies. Two of the girls, I saw, had stripes on them, one on
the thigh, and one on the side. The trainer was not now pay.
ing them much attention. They were now, apparently, doing
well.
"Come along," said Hermidorus.
"How beautiful!" I breathed.
Drusus Rencius looked sharply at me. I feared for a mo
ment I might be struck.
Hermidorus, on the other hand, did not seem to notice. My
exclamation, perhaps, had seemed sufficiently inadvertent,
involuntary and irrepressible, to be ignored; or perhaps it was
to be ignored because I was not a slave, but a free woman. I
did not meet Drusus Rencius's eyes. It was not like I had just
decided to speak and had spoken. In a place like this I did
not know if I was subject to discipline or not. I did not think
so, for I was a free woman. On the other hand I knew I was
here on the sufferance of the house of Kijomenes. Indeed, on
these premises, I knew that Drusus Rencius even held a li-
cense on me.
The drummer and the flautist prepared once more to play.
The girl in the long, light chain smiled at me. She, at any
rate, was pleased by my response.
A wrist ring was fastened on her right wrist. The long,
slender, gleaming chain was fastened to this and, looping
down and up, ascended gracefully to a wide chain ring on
her collar, through which it freely passed, thence descending,
looping down, and ascending, looping up, gracefully, to the
left wrist ring. If she were to stand quietly, the palms of her
hands ~n her thighs, the lower portions of the chain, those
two dangling loops, would have been about at the level of her
knees, just a little higher. The higher portion of the chain, of
course, would be at the collar loop.
The musicians began again to play. There is much that
can be done with such a chain. It wa~ a dancing chain. Its
purpose was not to confine the girl but to allow her to incor-
porate it in her dance, enhancing the dance with its move-
ments and beauty. It is, of course, symbolic of her bondage,
this adding fantastic dimensions of significance to the dance.
It is not merely a beautiful woman who dances, but one who
can be bought and sold, one who is subject to male owner-
ship. Too, of course, the wrist rings, and the collar, are truly
locked on her. There is no doubt about it. It is a slave, with
all that that means, who is dancing.
I watc,hed her, my breath almost taken away by her beauty.
"She is a valuable woman," said Hermidorus.
I did not doubt it.
"'Come along," he said.
We are readying her for her sale," said Hermidorus.
I watched her naked on the block, under the tutelage of a
whip-carrying trainer. It was small, rounded room, with mir-
rors. He was putting her through slave paces.
"She is to be auctioned in five days," said Hermidorus.
My eyes and those of the girl met. At that instant her
weight was on the pahns of her hands, her arms straight, and
the sides of her feet, her body lifted from the block, her legs
~ight and spread widely behind her.
I realized then, with a shock, that she was going to be soli
Then she was being put through further slave paces.
"Come along," said Hermidorus.
I was trembling. The hand of Drusus Rencius on my arm
drew me, bodily, from the room.
'I have changed my mind!" wept the girl. "I will be pleas-
ing! I will be pleasing!"
I looked through the heavy bars of the cell, some three
inches in thickness, reinforced with crosspieces, to the op-
posite wall. It was hard to see. There, kneeling on straw, try-
ing to pull towards us, her wrists tied behind her hack to a
ring set in the wall, was a blond girl. "I will be pleasing!" she
wept. "I will be pleasing! I will be pleasing!"
I then turned away from her, following Hermidorus and
Drusus Rencius.
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"She is not yet begging to be pleasing," said Hermidorus to
Drusus.
"Correct," he said.
I looked behind myself, following them, at the dark cells,
most of them empty, along the corridor. This was certainly
not my favorite part of the house. It was dark, and cold, and
clammy. Occasionally my bare feet stepped in puddles of
cold water, seeped to this level, and caught in concavities or
irregularities in the corridor flooring. And, here and there, I
could see passages, narrow, crooked and dark, leading to
even lower levels. I was pleased that we were not going to
traverse them. It had seemed frightening enough to me to
come even to this level. Sometimes, in our descent, bn cat-
walks, we had even passed over pit cells, little more than
holding holes, ceilinged with locked iron gates, sunk in the
floor of the corridor. I had cried out with misery and terror
in passing over one of these for a large hand, emerging sud
denly through the grating, had seized my ankle. Drusus Ren-
cius had pried open the fingers 'and thrust the hand away. I
then kept closely to the center of the catwalks. There were
male slaves in this house, too, I had learned. Had the slave
known I was free, I do not think he would have touched me.
He might have remained crouching in his hole, thinking what
thoughts he might, but I do not think he would have dared to
touch me. A male slave can be slain for touching a free
woman. "She is not here for punishment," Hermidorus had
informed the dark shapes beneath the grating. I then realized
that a slave girl, perhaps for purposes of her discipline, might
be lowered through the grating hole, doubtless into eager
hands, the grating then being resecured.
In the corridors, in our movements through them, particu-
larly in the upper levels, we would sometimes encounter
slaves, usually employed in domestic tasks, such as running
errands, carrying burdens, dusting or cleaning. These women
were usually naked, except for their collars, which, I
gathered, was the way women were usually kept in a slaver's
house. At the approach of the free men, Hermidorus and
Drusus, they would immediately position themselves, usually
with their knees wide, kneeling back on their heels, their
heads up, their bands on their thighs, in the position I had
come to understand was that of the pleasure slave, but some-
times, instead; kneeling with the palms of their hands on the
tiles, their heads down, too, to the same tiles.
There was one temporary, partial exception to this, which I
wrn mention. Mter we had left some carpeted corridors,
higher in the house, and were moving to the lower levels, and
traversing heavy, ftagstonelike tiles, we approached a slender,
dark-haired girl who, on her hands and knees, in chains, with
a bucket of water, cloths and a brush, in that portion of the
corridor, was scrubbing tiles.
As we approached, she oriented herself towards us, palms
of her hands on the floor, and put her head to the tiles. But,
as we neared her, she lifted her head, desperately.
"Hermidorus!" she cried, suddenly. "Hermidonis!"
He stopped before her, a few feet from her, and we
stopped, too, behind him.
"Do you not know me?" she begged. The chain she wore
was a work sirik. It resembles the common sink but the
wrists, to permit work, are granted about a yard of chain.
Like the common sirik, it is a lovely chain. Women are beau-
tiful in it. "Deirdre!" she cried. "Deirdre! Two years ago ill
Ar we lived in the same building!"
He looked at her, not speaking.
"Deirdre," she whimpered.
"In the instant you were imbonded, you ceased to be
Girl,' be said.
"Girl?" she said.
"what is your house name?" be asked.
"Oh, no," she said. "Not you! Not you, of all people! You
not see me as a slave! You could not see me as a slave! I
you. That would be impossible! You could not relate to
as though I might be a slave! You could not! One such as
would never enforce my slavery upon me! One such as
you could never do so!" Then she looked up at him, her lower
lip trembling. "'Renata' is my house name," she said.
He then removed the belt from his tunic. The accouter-
ments on it he handed to Drusus Rencius.
"You lifted your head from the tile position before free
persons had passed you, Renata," he said. "You also
addressed a free man twice by his name. Similarly your
speech has been inadequately deferential. It has not beeti in-
terspersed1 ~9t appropri.~te poilits, for example, l)y the cx
pression 'Master.' You ll~'ivc al~o referred to yourself a~
though you might sf111 be ~Deirdre..' Such falsificatious of
identity are not permitted to slaves. Deirdue is gone. In her
place there is now only a slave, an animal, who must wear
whatever name masters choose to put on her. Similarly, when
asked a question, that pertaining to your house name, you did
not respond with sufficient promptness. Do you understand
all that I am saying, fully and clearly, Renata?"
She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "Yes, Master1" she
said.
"On all fours, Renata," he said.
"Yes, Master," she sobbed, assuming this position.
"Perhaps you should precede us a few paces down the
hall," said Drusus Rencius to me.
I moved, frightened, a few feet down the hall, not looking. Then, suddenly, I heard the belt beginning to fall, sharp-
ly, on the girl. I turned in time to see her on her side, in her
chains, receiving the last few blows. She had not been pleas-
ing. She was a slave. Of course she was being punished.
Then Hermidorus, without further ado, took back his ac-
couterments from Drusus and slipped them on his belt. He
then fastened the belt again about his waist.
I was startled that one such as he, seemingly so scholarly
and gentle, possessed such uncompromising strength. The fe-
male had learned, to her sorrow, that in his presence she
would not be permitted the least slackness in her discipline.
"I am sorry for the interruption," Hermidorus apologized
to Diusus Rencius.
œœThat is perfectly all right," said Drusus.
The girl lay on her stomach, in her chains, in the water on
the tiles. She lifted her head, gazing in pain, disbelief and
awe at Hermidorus. She was a slave who had not been pleas-
ing. She had been put under his belt.
We then continued down the hallway.
"Master," she called out, "I want to lay for you! I want to
lay for you! Please have me sent to your rooms! I want to lay
for you!"
Hermidorus did not look back.
I looked back. I saw in the girl's eyes that she now knew
she was a slave, and helplessly so, and that she loved him.
We continued on our way.
I wotidered if he would have her sent to his rooms. The
decisioi' was his. She was a slave.
Kajira ch 9