On my former world, here and there, there are men
“And, too,” said I, “on my former world, here and there, there are men. Believe it. And perhaps, too, in every male there is somewhere a man, even there, despite all, who might awaken.”
“Never!” she said.
“Who knows?” I said. “Suppose they were to look upon you, chained slave.”
“They would faint with embarrassment,” she laughed. “And when recovered, averting their eyes, stuttering with profuse apologies, they would free me, instantly.” I looked upon her. She seemed uneasy.
“Perhaps not,” I said.
“Not?” she said.
“Perhaps they would put a collar on you, and keep you,” I said.
“Do you think you would not appeal to them?”
“They do not know what to do with slaves,” she said.
“Perhaps that is because their culture has given them little familiarity with slaves,” I said. She looked at me, apprehensively.
“Suppose there were slaves about,” I said. “
Yes?” she said.
“I do not think they would then long remain ignorant as to what to do with such lovely creatures,” I said. She looked at me. “Do you not think they could learn?” I said.
“No!” she said. “Or they would have done so! They are weak! They are hopeless!” “I doubt that,” I said.
“I am of high caste!” she said. “I am aware of the second knowledge. The women of your world are and should be slaves! Your world abounds with slaves, and yet your males do nothing about it! They let them run about as they wish! They let them be disagreeable and insulting!”
“That changes on Gor,” I said. “
They tolerate insolence!” she said. “They are stupid!”
“Ignorant, perhaps,” I said. “Not stupid.” “Where are their females’ collars? Must they wait until they are brought to Gor to have them on their necks?” she asked.
“Perhaps,” I said.
“How weak the men of your world!” she sneered.
“Some, perhaps,” I said. I did not think the men of my world were irremediably weak. To be sure, they had been much bled, and trammeled, drop by drop, strand by strand. It was indeed a world in which, in many ways, the unnatural had well contrived, to their advantage, to deny nature to the natural.
“The men of your world, it seems,” said she, “are too weak to seize and claim the slaves of their world.”
I did not respond. I did consider the readiness and joy of Earth-girl slaves brought to the Gorean collar. It occurred to me that there must then be on Earth many lonely, unowned slaves.
“Poor men of Earth!” she laughed.
“Slaves all about, and they have not one!” “Some do,” I said. “Oh?” she said. “Yes,” I said. “Some men of Earth keep their women as slaves.”
“But few!” she said.
“Yes,” I said, “I think, few.” I did not doubt but what there were thousands of unowned slaves on Earth, thousands longing for masters, thousands dreaming of collars.
“How pathetic the men of Earth,” she said, “they let their slaves run free!”
“They may not always run free,” I said.
Magicians of Gor, p.842-844