“Steady her,” he said to the court guard behind her, and that guard then grasped her by the upper arms.

“Steady her,” he said to the court guard behind her, and that guard then grasped her by the upper arms. The pit guard then, holding to her ankle, lifted her foot, lifted it up so that the lower portion of the robe of concealment came forward, to lodgment behind the knee, this revealing something of her calf, and also, of course, her foot, the ankle in his grasp. “A pretty calf,” said the pit guard.

“Yes,” said the court guard holding the woman from behind.

“I think she would take a two-ring,” said the pit guard, lifting the ankle a little more. “Yes,” said the other pit guard. “I would think so,” said the other court guard. This was a reference to the sizes of ankle rings. “She is about the size of Janice,” said the other pit guard, he not holding the woman’s ankle. “What size ankle ring do you take, Janice?” “A two- ring, Master,” I said. “See?” said the pit guard holding the woman’s ankle. “Yes,” agreed his fellow. The woman put her head in the air. I suppose she was not pleased at all to learn that she had this in common with me, that we might take the same size ankle ring. But what would be so surprising about this? Were we so different?

And are not free women, as the men of this world sometimes suggest, only slaves without collars?

The pit guard then released her ankle, and the fellow behind her released her upper arms. She now stood as she had before. Only I think that now she was acutely conscious of the men about her, and, in particular, of he who held her leash. His fist, the right fist, the leash now again transferred to his right hand, the leash wrapped about it, was only about six inches from her collar ring. He looked down at her. She quickly averted her eyes. “I wonder if she is pretty,” said one of the court guards. “’Ilene’ would be a pretty name for a slave,” said the fellow with the leash. “Yes,” said his fellow. “Please,” protested the woman.

“Do you think you might make good company for a lonely man on a long, cold night?” asked the guard, he holding her leash. “I would be led by the slave,” said the free woman hastily, frightened. There was laughter. I thought her request a judicious one, particularly if she did not wish to be visited in a cell at night, and forced to strip, and perform as a slave. “Forgive me, Mistress,” I said, accepting the leash from the guard. “Slut,” she said to me. “Yes, Mistress,” I said.

Witness of Gor, p. 837

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