"Yes, Master," she said.
"And you belong to that sex," I said, "which is maddeningly, exquisitely desireable."
"Yes, Master," she said.
"And you are," I said, "I think, objectively, a beautiful member of that sex."
"Thank you, Master," she whispered.
"It therefore seems not inconceivable that men might not find you desireable."
"Yes, Master," she whispered.
"Does that please you?" I asked.
"It terrifies me," she said.
"Do you have normal feelings towards men?" I asked her.
"I think so, Master," she said.
"Now that you are a slave," I said, "it is not only permissible for you to yield to those feelings, but you must do so."
"Master!" she whispered.
"Yes," I said, "for you are now a slave."
"Yes, Master," she whispered, shuddering.
"That makes quite a difference, doesn't it? I asked.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"She does not have slave reflexes," said a man.
"We are now going to put these things together," I said. "First, you are an exquisitely desireable woman. You are the sort of woman who could drive a man mad with passion. You are the sort of woman to possess whom men might kill for. Furthermore, your beauty and desirability is increased a thousand fold because you are a property girl, a slave."
"Yes, Master," she whispered. "Oh, Master!"
"Men are of even greater interest to you, are they not?" I asked.
"Yes, Master!" she wept.
"Now," I said, "second, let us consider things from the point of view of the woman, from your point of view."
"As a slave," I said, "it is not only permissible for you to yield to your deepest, most stirring, most primitive, most overwhelmingly feminine urges but you must do so, shamelessly, unqualifiedly, completely."
"Yes, Master," she cried, and thrust herself suddenly, piteously, against my hand. I then, by the hair, pulled her about and threw her lengthwise, prone, to the tiles. She looked up at me, over her shoulder. I saw wildness in her eyes. I saw that she had begun to sense what it might be to be an aroused slave.
"Whip," I said, to a man. The whip was placed in my hand.
"Master?" asked the girl, apprehensively.
"I do not believe you were given permission to stop dancing earlier," I said.
