“Are you interested in free females?” she asked.

“Are you interested in free females?” she asked.
“Not particularly,” I said.
“Let us show you one,” she said. “Esne,” she called. “Bring Lady Labiena.”
In a few moments one of the hostesses had emerged from a side door leading a lovely woman, barefoot, in a wrap- around tunic, on a neck chain. She was brought to my table where, unbidden, she knelt.
“She is attractive, is she not?” asked my hostess.
“Yes,” I said.
“She is a captive free woman,” said my hostess. “We are keeping her for a friend.”
“I see,” I said.
“Open your tunic,” said my hostess.
The woman parted her tunic, and held it to the sides.
“She is pretty, isn’t she?” asked my hostess.
“Yes,” I said. “Widen your knees,” I told the woman.
She did so, continuing to hold her tunic open.
“Are you sure she is free?” I asked.
“Yes,” said my hostess.
I regarded the woman. “It seems she might as well be a slave,” I said.
The woman threw me a look of gratitude.
“No, she is free,” said my hostess, “though now, to be sure, she doubtless has some notion of what a slave’s life might be like.”
“One can have no adequate notion of that,” I said, “until one has been truly enslaved.”
“True,” said my hostess.
“What is your life like here?” I asked the woman.
“I wear a neck chain,” she said.
“I see,” I said.
“You may lower your hands, but do not close your tunic,” said my hostess.
“In what manner does she serve here, in this house?” I asked. To be sure she was barefoot, and was naked but for a tunic, and had a chain on her neck. These things suggested some answers to my question.
“Much as a slave, but with little of their skill,” said my hostess.

Mercenaries of Gor, p. 463

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