"Yes, Master," she cried. "Yes, Master!" she cried.

"Serve me again," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said. "Audrey will now serve her master again.

"Does Audrey like serving her master?" I asked.

"Audrey loves serving her master," she whispered.

"Why is that?" I asked.

"Audrey is a slave," she whispered.

"It is true," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said. Then she began to cry out with helpless pleasure.

"In the south," I said, "there are many cities. Many of these cities consist largely of high cylinders, joined by traceries of high bridges."

"It sounds very beautiful," she said.

"It is," I said.

"Are there many slave girls in these cities?" she asked.

"Yes, many," I said.

"Tell me of them," she said.

'They are commonly kept barefoot," I said, "and are clad in brief tunics. Their hair is usually worn long and loosely. Their throats are normally encircled by collars, which identify their masters."

"Are such girls treated kindly?" she asked.

"It depends on the will of the master," I said. "They are slaves."

"Of course," she said.

"Most girls are treated kindly," I said, "provided they are absolutely pleasing in all ways."

She was silent.

"That is little enough to expect from a slave," I pointed out.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Do you object?" I asked.

"No," she said. "It is only that the domination to which the Gorean slave girl is subject is so uncompromising, so complete."

"It is absolutely uncompromising and complete," I told her. "Goreans are not men of Earth," I said. "They will have what they truly want from a woman, everything."

"Though I am destined to be the helpless victim of their will, their power and their lust," she said, "yet I cannot help but admire and fear such men."

'They will make you be a woman, their woman," I said.

"In my most secret dreams," she said, "I longed for such a man. I did not know they could exist."

"Something in your heart," I said, "whispered to you that there must be somewhere such men."

"It was only a longing dream," she whispered, "the yearning of a girl for a true man, one proud and free and strong, one not dishonest, one not broken, one not robbed of himself, one who could by his might and strength make me as much a woman as he was a man."

"And then?" I asked.

"And then, one day, on a platform in the Sardar, I learned that it was not a simple dream, but that it had been a dream to which there corresponded a fearful reality."

"You, wench of Earth," I said to her, "now lie naked on Gor, a slave girl."

"Yes," she whispered.

"Are you frightened?" I asked.

"Yes," she whispered. "I am terribly frightened." She clutched my arms. "Should those of Earth not be told that there truly is a Gor?" she asked.

"No," I said. "It is better that they do not know."

"How many girls, this very night on Earth," she asked, "are being brought to Gor?"

"I do not know," I said. "Perhaps none. I do not know the schedule of the slave runs."

"The horror, and the joy, of it," she said.

"Joy," I asked, "Slave?"

"Yes, joy," she whispered. "Master?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Would you please stand over me?" she asked.

I did so.

"Yes," she said, "that is how I imagined him, the man in my dreams, he for whom I longed, he who would come for me and place me, regardless of my will, resolutely in his total bondage."

"And what did you do?" I asked.

"I knelt before him, like this," she said, "and put my head to his feet." She looked up at me. "You see," she said, "I knew, in seeing him, that he was my master."

"And what did he do?" I asked.

"He did not let me speak," she said, "but took me by the shoulders and gently, but powerfully, pressed me back."

"Like this?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "Oh, I wanted to protest, and speak, and question him, but I saw in his eyes that I must not do so."

"And then?" I asked.

"He told me that he would try me out," she said, "and see if I pleased him. If I did not he would leave me alone, and unharmed, and I should not see him again. But to beware, for if he was pleased with me, he would take me away with him, to a far world, one very different from my own, where he could keep me as he wished, and would do so, as a slave." She smiled at me. "He encouraged me to try to resist him, that I might keep my pride and freedom." She looked up at me. "You see, he only wanted me if I truly was a slave," she said.

"What did you do then?" I asked.

"I opened my body to him like a flower," she said. "I said to him, "Do not leave me, Master. Take me with you. I am truly a slave as you have suspected. You are the first man to discern this. Thus you are the first man to whom I belong.'" She smiled. "'Yes,' he said, 'I see that you are a slave, but I do not know if you will please me.'"

"And then?" I asked.

"Then," she said, "I was very afraid, for I sensed that if he should so much as touch his lips to mine I could never again be anything but a man's slave. What if I should not please him? Would he not then simply abandon me, leaving me behind, a masterless girl, a lonely, forlorn slave on a world empty of men strong enough to be a woman's master?"

I supposed it was hard for one who was a slave to be in a world in which there were no masters. Perhaps there were masters on such a world, but she had not yet found them. The slave seeks her master, the master his slave. When they find one another they will know it. She will kneel to him, and he will accept her as his.

"Did he permit you to speak further?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. I opened my arms to him. I said to him, 'I will try with all, my heart to please you, my master, that I may be found worthy to be taken with you as your slave."'

"What then did he say?" I asked.

"He said nothing," she said. "He only held me by the arms, and I could not move. Then he laughed. Then he used me for his pleasure."

"His domination was ruthless?" I asked.

"Yes," she smiled, "lovingly ruthless."

"He treated you as a slave?" I asked.

"Completely," she said.

"As was proper," I said.

"Of course," she smiled. "I was his slave. Should a slave not be treated as a slave?"

"Of course," I said.

"When he finished with me," she said, "I said to him, 'Have I pleased you, Master?' He did not respond but, from a bottle, poured a tiny bit of fluid into a cloth. 'Did I please you, Master?' I again begged. Then he placed the damp cloth over my mouth and nose, holding it tightly. 'Yes,' he said, 'you have pleased me, Slave.' I looked up at him. I could sense the fumes in the cloth. 'You are a pretty slave,' he said. 'You will bring a good price in the market.' I realized then that he would only keep me for a time, and would then sell me. I realized then that I would have many masters. I struggled, but I could not escape. Then I lost consciousness."

"An interesting dream," I said.

"Then one day," she said, "I awakened, chained on Gor," She kissed me. "Master," she said.

"Yes," I said.

"The girls who are kept slave in the cities," she asked, "are they happy?"

"Many are blissfully happy," I said. "Strange," I mused, "that that should be so, and yet the facts are incontrovertible, Many of them, collared, subject to the whip, are yet blissfully happy. It makes little sense to me. I do not profess to understand it."

"I sense how it could be, Master," she said.

"A girl, of course," I said, "in having many masters learns how to please men. She must, of course."

"I am sure that is part of it, Master," said Audrey. "May I speak?"

"Yes," I said. "I sense," she said, "what my true master would be like."

"Any man who owns you is your true master," I said.

"That is true," she laughed. "But I have a dream of a perfect master, to whom I could be but a perfect slave."

"I see," I said.

"Other girls, too," she said, "must sense this sort of thing."

"Perhaps," I said.

"Do not men have some sense of what sort of girl would be their perfect slave?" she asked.

"Some girls are surely more attractive and desirable than others," I said, "and clearly this is not a simple function of physical appearance. Indeed, some rather plain girls are, for no reason that is clear to me, tormentingly attractive, intensely desirable."

"There is no simple answer," she said.

"No," I said, "I do not think so."

"Is it not true," she laughed, "that all men want a woman who will bring them their slippers in her teeth?"

"Sandals," I corrected her.

"Sandals," she laughed.

"Yes," I said, "every man wants such a woman."

"And a slave girl must," she said.

"If the master so instructs her," I said. "Of course."

"All men want," she laughed, "is a girl panting in their arms."

"Surely more than that," I said. "Any girl can be made to pant in a manes arms," I pointed out.

"That is true," she said, bitterly. She was slave. She knew she could be forced to yield to any man.

"What is it that you are trying to say?" I asked.