Part 118 (2/2)
I collapsed to the stones, scarcely believing myself alive.
”How absurd,” he cried, in anger, ”to love a slave!”
”Master?” I said.
He spun about. ”Yes!” he cried. ”I love you, you worthless s.l.u.t, you meaningless thing! I have loved you, madly, insanely, uncontrollably, recklessly, violently, from the first moment I saw you!”
”Master,” I breathed, unable to believe my ears.
”Yes!” cried he. ”Call me 'Master'! It is fitting, for you are a slave, and will never be other than that!”
”Yes, Master!” I said.
”You are no more than a branded s.l.u.t, no more than meaningless, worthless collar meat!” he cried.
”Yes, Master!” I cried.
”You are unworthy to be a free woman!”
”I hope so, Master,” I said.
”What?” he cried.
”-I hope so, Master,” I whispered.
”Slave,” he sneered.
”Yes, Master,” I said. ”It is true. That is what I am.”
”Disgusting!” he said.
”No!” I cried. ”No!”
”Do you dare speak back to me?” he cried.
”With master's permission!” I cried.
”You will never be a free woman!” he said.
”Nor do I wish to be a free woman!” I said. ”I have been free! I know what it is like! I am content to be a slave, and wish to be a slave! I am fulfilled in bondage, in ways that you, a man, or some men, may never understand! Oh, yes, you enslave us for your gratifications and pleasures, you monsters, you beasts! But what you do not know is that we love our bonds, and our belonging, and our being owned, and being helplessly subject to the magnificence, the glories, even to the whip, of your total, uncompromised mastery of us!
Do you not know we want men to be strong, and our masters? Let the twisted and hormonally deficient conceal their seekings of power under the pratings of rhetorics. Let others of us who long to love and serve, and obey, and be desired, dream of masters!-yes masters!-our masters!”
He looked down upon me, and I realized that these things to him, a man of Gor, were not that strange.
He knew something of our needs.
He was not a stranger to the nature of females.
”I am a slave,” I whispered.
”It is well known to me that you are a slave-legally,” he said. ”I can see the collar, the brand.”
”It is more than that,” I wept. ”I am a slave inwardly, in my need, and in my love, and in my nature! It is what I am! Despise me for it, if you wis.h.!.+ I am a natural slave, a rightful slave, and here, on this world, in my collar, I have found myself at last! Hate me! Hold me in contempt!
But I am a slave, and I love being a slave! I love it! I love it! Do not try to force me to be what you want me to be! Rather accept me for what I want to be, and am!-one who knows she belongs at the feet of men!-and desires to be at the feet of men!-their slave!-their loving slave!”
”I do not understand myself,” he said.
”Master?”
”How could I care for you?”
”It is my hope that you do, at least a little, my master.”
”You are no more than an Earth s.l.u.t, a barbarian!”
”Yes, Master,” I said. ”Forgive me, Master!”
”The lowest of the low,” said he.
”Yes, Master,” I said, ”Forgive me, Master!”
”You are not even of Gor!” he cried.
”I have been brought to Gor,” I said. ”I have been collared here, and made a slave here!
Surely now I am of Gor! How could I be more of Gor, than as a Gorean slave girl, hoping like other Gorean slave girls to be found pleasing by her master?”
”You do have a beautiful face,” he said, ”perhaps the most beautiful I have ever seen, and you have a quick wit, and a luscious feminine mind, and superb slave curves, a body that drives me mad with desire, and your responses would shame those of a she-sleen in heat.”
”It seems the slavers knew their business, Master,” I smiled.
”We do,” he said, ”slave.”
”Do not treat me as might a man of Earth a woman of Earth,” I begged.
”Treat me rather as a man of Gor a woman whom he owns-one whom he will well master.”
He glared down at me.
”Please take me not as you would have me, but as I am.”
”You are a slave,” he said.
”And I rejoice that I am, Master.”
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