Collection of "Witness" Quotes
I was frightened. Aynur had a vile temper, but I had never seen her this way before. She seemed beside herself with rage. I trusted that she had not seen me kissing the stranger. That would not do at all! She must not have seen that! I must have been simply taken and used, without my consent, totally against my will, you understand. I must pretend to have found the whole matter distasteful. I must pretend to have experienced no interest, or gratification. Our passion, in theory, at least in the gardens, is to be regulated, reserved exclusively for he who holds total rights over us. But I do not know who actually believes such a thing. They make us, totally, the properties of men, and such that we can change hands and collars in a moment, and then act as though our exclusive passion must accompany, in effect, a bill of sale. It is absurd. Certainly the girls in the taverns and brothels are not expected to fulfill such a myth. Even in the gardens are we not sometimes placed at the disposal of others, as he who holds total rights over us, perhaps in his astuteness, or liberality, may decree? And if we have not been pleasing, and if we have not well responded, as may be determined objectively, from the effects of such responses on our bodies, may we not be severely punished, or even slain? Are we not, too, for example, often used in our way to further the fortunes of those who hold total rights over us, as our beauty might contribute, say, to the decor of the banqueting hall, and our activities, such as our serving and entertaining, sometimes on a chain between the tables, to the quality of the banquet itself? And is it not expected that we will writhe gratefully, and well, on the chain, and authentically, which matter may be checked? No asking us not to feel, not to be what we are, is too much. Rather one might as well scold helpless, oil-drenched straw for bursting gratefully into flame at the touch of the torch. We are at the mercy of all men, as what we are. Do not blame us. But I must pretend, of course, that I had felt nothing. One must pretend to subscribe to the myth. That is important. I trusted that Aynur had not seen me kissing him, and as I had, as what I was! Perhaps Aynur believes the myth, I thought. I hoped, desperately, that Aynur might believe the myth. 26.77
== CULTURE ==
On this world hierarchy exists, and status, and rank, and distance. Such things, always real, are not here concealed. Here they are in the open. The people of this world do not deign to conceal that each is not the same as every other, and not merely is this true of those such as I. Such articulations, of course, so healthy with respect to maintaining social stability, constitute an institutional counterpart to the richnesses of difference in an articulated, ordered, holistic nature. On this world, for better or for worse, order seems most often preferred to chaos, and truth to fiction. 26.82
They preferred, it seemed, to take their women, perhaps to stalk them with stealth, as game, then to spring the nets or snares at some time of their choosing, some moment of unsuspected ripeness, or to seize them in capture strike, or to take them by theft, perhaps roping and gagging them in their own beds, there to enjoy them, and then to hood them and carry them off, bound hand and foot, to this aerie, or at sword point, in open challenge, or even to obtain them in raids and war, perhaps as incidental loot or perhaps, even, as the principal object of such endeavors, for women on this world, you see, even free women, not just women such as I, count as an accustomed and legitimate form of loot or booty, as much, or more, than gold and silver, and fine cloth, and such things. Indeed, wars have been fought to obtain us. These are often rreferred to as "slave wars." 26.232
She is now a slave. She now at last "belongs," and in the most profound sense of belonging, that of belonging to someone. She now "belongs" in the most profound sense conceivable, that of being owned. She realizes, with a radiant warmth that floods her, that illuminates her mind and enflames her belly, that she is now goods, a property, her master's slave. Men have found her of such interest and attractiveness, and they have wanted her so much, and so lusted for her, that they have enslaved her, that they have put her in a collar and made her theirs, that they have seen fit, in their imperious, dominating mastery to own her, and put her to their service and pleasure 26.630
== Slavery References ==
I loved him, but, too, I knew him now as my genuine master, one who would not hesitate an instant to correct my behavior, to subject me to discipline, if I should fail to be pleasing. 26.765
"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 wish! 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!" 26.750
"It is my hope," I said, "that you will permit me to be what I am. Please do not ask me to pretend to be other than I am." 26.753
I struggled, again, to my knees. How could he blame me for crawling to men, for begging use? Did he not understand that I was a slave, truly! Did he have some unreasonable concept of what I should be, something in his mind, something with little, if any, relation to my realities? Could he not accept me as I was, truly, a helpless female, and slave? Other men had not been critical of this!
"I am appetitious, Master," I said. "I am the prisoner of my needs. I am subject to the forces within me. I cannot help myself. I am what I am, nothing else. Please do not expect me to be other than I am." 26.753
As the beast was at the right hand of the thronelike chair and the woman only at the left, that signified, in this world, that she was less than it. 26.186
"Someone is coming," she said.
Coming down the stairs was a man.
"Come, slave!" I said. "Do not dawdle!"
With a little cry of pain she followed me up the stairs, the leash straight between us. Little consideration is shown to slaves. The fellow glanced at us, sizing us up, as men do, as slave meat, in passing. We looked down. Had he stopped, we would have knelt.
"Is your foot all right?" I asked. 26.235
We are expected to obey unhesitantly and swiftly, subject, of course, to the proviso that we should do so as well, as beautifully, as possible. These people have, as I have suggested, a highly developed aesthetic sense. They require beauty in their slaves, both in appearance and movement. 26.239
"So," she said, "that is not how you kneel before men, is it?"
"No," I said. "I am a pleasure slave. It is expected, accordingly, that I will kneel before men with my legs spread, unless, perhaps, free women are present." 26.338
Slaves are sometimes kept naked in a man's compartments, of course. But, too, after men have risked death, it often pleases them to be served by naked women. Perhaps such a thing, so simple in itself, speaks to them of joy and life. To be sure, the flavor of nudity, as so many other things, depends much upon context. 26.522
"Bend over, at the waist," said he.
I did so, and he took the double strand of the rope looped about my wrists and brought it forward, between my legs, and then looped it up and, separating the strands, passed one over my collar and then tied it to the other. In this fashion was my head held down. This is a not uncommon tie. It may also function to keep a kneeling girl's head down. It is useful in learning deference. 26.297
As you have doubtless gathered by now, one such as I is usually expected to request permission to speak, before being allowed to speak, and, as you may also have gathered, this permission is not always forthcoming.
In such a case, of course, one must remain silent. 26.143
"You are from the slave world?" he asked. I looked at him, puzzled.
"From the place called "Earth"?" he said. I nodded. 26.153
"Yes, Master," I said. I had seen them, at least, in Treve. I myself, on the other hand, had never been put naked into the streets. It is normally done as a punishment. Normally, too, the slave is locked in the iron belt. 26.758
I did understand, of course, that I did not have, as of now, a name. I might as well have been then, I realized, in a collar. Any possible doubts as to my status had been dissipated. My brand was as meaningful as ever. It remained in full effect. 26.151
The men of this world are terribly strict with us, but few of them are cruel. Their pleasure is found in the manifold perfections of our service, intimate and otherwise, and in our devotion and love, not in our distress or pain. These men keep their animals under perfect discipline, as is their way, but they also, on the whole, treat them well. 26.152
A "white-silk girl" is a virgin, one who is not a virgin is sometimes referred to as a "red-silk girl." This need not refer, literally, of course, to the color of their garmenture. 26.157
The slave, incidentally, wants to be owned by a man of honor. We want to be proud of our masters. Too, we are safer with such a man. The man of honor, of course, and perhaps in part because of his sense of honor, holds us in uncompromising, perfect bondage. But that is what we want, for we are slaves. 26.435
Then I looked up at him, in misery. "Who am I to obey?" I cried. "The officer has told me one thing, and you tell me another! Whom am I to obey?"
"You will obey me," said the depth warden.
"But is he not higher than you?" I asked, timidly.
"Yes," he said. "He is higher than I, but you will obey me."
"Master?" I asked.
"For I am closer to you than he," he whispered.
I shuddered. I was indeed in the keeping of the depth warden. It was in his quarters that I had my kennel. It was on the wall of those quarters that hung the whip to which I was first subject. It was he within whose direct reach I was. I was in his power, at his mercy. He could do with me as he pleased. But I was frightened, too, because I now realized that the depth master was in direct violation of the orders of his superior. He would manage the depths as he saw fit. His, then, was the responsibility.
"Whom do you obey?" asked the depth warden.
"You, Master!" I said. 26.426
I wondered that the fellow accepted, with such apparent tolerance, what appeared an obvious manifestation of annoyance on the part of the slave, if not of actual insolence. Did she not fear her silks would be removed and that she might be tied to a ring and whipped? I supposed she must have felt the whip at one time or another. She did move well, of course. That suggested that she was not totally unfamiliar with the whip. We must move well. We are not free women. If we do not move well, men, and their whips, see to it that we soon do. And whatever might have been her peripheral tokens of irritation or exasperation she did obey with alacrity. Yes, I thought, she undoubtedly knew something of the whip. Yet, too, undeniably, her behavior seemed to leave something to be desired. Perhaps she presumed too much on the status of a high slave, which status, it seemed, must be hers. Or perhaps she had been a high free woman, and her master, or masters, allowed her to act as she did, finding some amusement in the absurdity of it, she not understanding the joke, knowing they could in an instant bring her to her knees as a humbled, abject, servile, weeping slave. But, in any event, she was accustomed, it seemed, to being treated with some indulgence, perhaps even with permissiveness. How else would she have dared to exploit such latitudes of tolerance as seemed to be accorded to her? To be sure, she was a high slave. But are not such, in the final analysis, owned every bit as much as we? And is not one man's high slave no more to another than the least of his bond maids, laboring shackled in his stables, her use a perquisite for rude grooms, and is it not the case that even for the very same man she who is this evening a high slave may be tomorrow the least of his properties in the scullery? 26.192
"Bring slave wine," he said.
My heart leaped.
Dorna, angrily, descended the steps of the dais behind the thronelike chair and went again to the table beneath the roofed defense work.
I was pleased.
I looked down, shyly.
I had been given slave wine in the pens, of course, but it was not mine to call that to their attention. Indeed, the matter was undoubtedly noted on my papers. Perhaps these men merely wished to make sure of the matter. Or perhaps they merely wished to have me drink slave wine before them, either for their amusement, or because of the effects of this act, which were not only practical but symbolic. The effect of slave wines, at least those now in general use, seems to be indefinite, but they are commonly renewed annually, perhaps largely for symbolic purposes. One removes the effects of such wine by drinking a "releaser." The wines themselves could be sweetened, but are normally served bitter, which taste, as I understand it, is closer to that of the original root, the sip root, from which they are ultimately derived. The "releaser" or, at least, the wine in which it is mixed, the "breeding wine" or "second wine," is sweet. The breeding of slaves, like that of most domestic animals, is carefully supervised. Slave breeding usually takes place in silence, at least as far as speech is concerned. Similarly the slaves are normally hooded. They are not to know one another. This is thought useful in reducing, or precluding, certain possible emotional complications. The breeding takes place under the supervision of masters, or their agents, with endorsements being recorded on proper papers I was pleased, of course, because, just as I took my feeding to be an indication that I was to be kept, if only for a time, so, too, I would interpret my being given slave wine as constituting something of a reassurance of my desirability, something in the nature of an indication that I might have been found, these men looking upon me, not without promise as a kajira, even though I was a woman of Earth. 26.199
"Head down, slave girl," whispered the man behind me.
Quickly I thrust my head down to the stones. It behooves a slave girl to be careful of whose eyes she meets, and how she meets them. We must be careful of looking too boldly into the eyes of our superiors, in particular, unknown free men or women. Brazenness can be cause for discipline. We do not wish to be punished. This is not to deny, of course, the expected and appropriate meetings of eyes in thousands of contexts and times, as in attempting to read one's fate in the eyes of the master, in examining them to learn if one is in favor or disfavor, in meeting them when commanded to do so, as when he examines us to see if we are lying, or when he wishes us to see the sternness in his eyes, that he is displeased, as in trying to read his will, that we may serve him better, as in looking up at him in rapture, squirming in his power, as in gazing into his eyes, on lonely beaches and in sheltered glades, with love. But if it can be dangerous for a slave to look too boldly into the eyes of a mere stranger, if such can invite a kick or a cuff, or even a whipping, imagine how wary one would be of meeting, and how one would fear to meet, the eyes of one such as the gaunt figure, the eyes of one seemingly unbalanced, eyes in which, it seemed, only too clearly blazed vanity, cruelty, and madness. 26.456
I lifted my eyes, timidly to he in the great chair. But he had now turned to others. He was conversing with them. Their business, I gathered, had nothing to do with me. A wave of irritation coursed through me. I had been much the center of attention, but now, it seemed, I was forgotten. It was strange to be kneeling so conspicuously before the dais, but neglected. One was, of course, familiar with the studied inconspicuousness of the serving slave, for I had learned it in the pens. One serves humbly, self-effacingly, eyes cast downward. When not serving one kneels deferentially, silently, well back, and to the side, of the low tables. When then one is summoned to further service, by perhaps so little as a glance or a snapping of fingers, one leaps up and hurries forward, perhaps then, on one s knees, to clear, or perhaps to fetch and then serve, again kneeling, the tiny cups of strong coffees, or black wines, the shallow silver bowls of white and yellow sherbet.
And so I knelt there, in correct position, naked and collared. 26.233
Their feelings with respect to the piercing of their ears seemed to me, in short, profoundly ambivalent. Did they sense, tremblingly, how exciting they might seem to men if they were so adorned, how much this might increase the desire which they might provoke in masters? And were they not, all, slaves? Did they not want to be exciting, beautiful, and desirable? Did they dare to conceive of themselves, however, being that exciting, that beautiful, that desirable? Did they not understand the perils and terrors which might be consequent upon such a thing, upon being so fiercely coveted, so fiercely sought, so fiercely desired? Were they prepared, in their hearts, to be such, to have so much demanded of them? Did they dare to be such, the first to be summoned forth from captive herds, the first to be assessed, the first to be chained? Were they not such as to be the first to be thrown to the furs? Were they not such that the whips snapped most fiercely about them? How could they dare to be such? Would they not swoon in terror, understanding how men might view them? Did they truly dare to be such as to be fiercely thrust to the surface of the sales block, to hear the men screaming with need, vying to own them? 26.306
"You are pretty," he said.
"Am I pretty?" he asked.
"No," I said.
"Am I handsome?" he asked.
"No," I said. "Forgive me, Master."
"For speaking the truth?"
"The opinion of a slave is worthless," I said.
"Why do you say that?" he asked.
"I do not wish to offend Master," I said.
"Do you think, because you have been put in a collar, you become less intelligent?"
"No," I said.
"Slavery has many effects on a woman," he said, "It softens her, it enhances her beauty, it gives her a profound sense of herself, it fulfills her, it increases, considerably, her sexual responsveness, it increases a thousandfold her capacities to love, but one effect it does not have, it does not reduce her intelligence."
"Yes, Master," I said.
"Why should it?" he asked.
"I do not know, Master," I said.
"It does not."
"Yes, Master," I said.
"There is a sense," he said, "in which the opinion of a slave is worthless, and another sense in which it might not be worthless. The sense in which it might not be worthless is the sense in which it might be true, or insightful, or helpful, such things. But in that sense the opinion of an urt or sleen, or any other form of animal, might not be worthless. It might be true, or insightful, or helpful, such things. The sense in which the opinion of a slave, or other form of animal, is worthless is the sense in which it is just that, the opinion of a slave, or animal. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master," I said. My thoughts, like my feelings, did not count. They were only those of a slave. 26.330
"Does she know the seven basic kisses of the slave?" he asked.
"No, Master," I said.
"Not even that?"
"No, Master," I said.
Naturally the number of "basic kisses" tends to vary with the nature of the analysis in question, much depending on how broadly or narrowly the notion of "basic" is understood, and the criteria for distinguishing between a "basic kiss" and a major variation thereof. If I may be permitted to exaggerate a point, for purposes of clarification, one might ask, are there two basic kisses with five hundred variations of each, four basic kisses with two hundred and fifty variations of each, five with two hundred variations of each, ten with one hundred variations of each, or, as some authorities might prefer, merely one thousand basic kisses? Or are there ten thousand, and so on? All authorities agree, of course, that the varieties of possible kisses, with respect to location, pressure, liquidity, duration, timing, and such, are infinite in number. The notion of "seven basic kisses," however, is, apparently, a common one. It deftly imposes some useful order on what might otherwise be a chaos. It is nothing against the value of a classificatory scheme that it is not the only one possible. As a last note, I might add that there does seem to be general agreement among authorities on the importance of a given number of types of kisses, and perhaps that is more important than whether one accounts a given kiss A to be a variation of B, or B to be a variation of A, and so on. There are apparently, incidentally, on this world, a number of manuals devoted to slave training. In most of these, as I understand it, seven is indeed given as the number of the "basic kisses." For what it is worth, that is the number which was impressed on me in the pens. I had had seven basic lessons on the matter, with variations taught within the lessons. 26.382
Indeed, on this world, there are many places in which slaves, as other animals, may not be taken. 26.387
"Strike," he said.
The point of the dagger was over his heart. In an instant I might have leaned forward and, with all my weight, slight as it was, moved that thin blade deeply into his body, to the hilt, even through the heart.
"No," I said.
He opened his eyes.
"No," I said. "Forgive me, Master."
"Must a command be repeated?" he asked.
"Repeat it a thousand times," I said. "I will not do it."
"You disobey?" he asked, puzzled.
"Forgive me, Master," I said. "Yes, Master."
"Why?" he asked.
"I love you," I said.
"You are prepared to die, for having been disobedient?" he asked.
"Yes, Master," I said. 26.759
"You have had your opportunity to elude my clutches," he said quietly, evenly. "You did not avail yourself of it."
I looked up at him, frightened.
"It is now too late," he said.
"Yes, Master," I said.
"To all fours," said he, "and face away!"
I complied, frightened.
"Strictly," he said, "you have not been entirely pleasing this afternoon."
"How have I displeased my master?" I asked.
I heard the whip removed from the table.
I did not dare look back.
"You were ordered to strike me, to slay me, and you did not do so."
I was silent.
"That was disobedience," he said.
"Yes, Master," I said.
"And you strove to take your own life, which is not acceptable in a slave. She may not do that. She does not own herself. It is, rather, she who is owned."
"Yes, Master," I said.
"To be certain," he said, "I am not unmindful of extenuating circumstances in both these cases, that in each case it was the welfare of your master which motivated you."
"It was, Master!" I said. "I beg forgiveness, if I have been displeasing!"
"And what is to be done when the slave has not been fully pleasing?" he asked.
"It is up to the master," I said. "He may take action or not, as he sees fit."
I heard the coils of the whip shaken out.
I tensed.
"You will receive three blows, only," he said. 26.763
That I thought was light, indeed. The beating was then, I realized, more symbolic than anything. It was little more than a way in which he chose to inform me that he did not expect me to be disobedient, or even displeasing, in any way, a way in which I would be apprised of the consequences which might attend such failures on my part. The whip cracked and I cried out in alarm. But it had not touched me. "The first blow," he said, "will be for disobedience, the second will be for your attempt to take your own life." The sound of the whip's report still terrified me. I realized that, next, it would fall upon me. The blow fell upon me, and I thought it light, not that it did not hurt, you understand. My back stung. Tears came to my eyes. But I was not displeased that I had refused to strike him, I would have refused again. The blow was little more than a formality. Still I had been whipped. I cried out in misery, feeling the second blow.
It was not light. He apparently was quite clear about informing me of his displeasure that I had tried to turn the dagger against myself, even if it had been only my intent to relieve him of his dilemma, to resolve, at a stroke, so to speak, the fearful predicament in which he found himself, to protect him, to save his life, by recourse to the obvious, simple expedient of sacrificing mine.
"Master!" I whimpered, in protest.
"Be silent!" he said.
Tears fell to the stones. I did not wish to feel another blow like that. Now I was truly whipped.
"Prepare for the third blow," he said.
"Master," I cried, "may I speak?"
"Yes," he said.
"For what is the third blow?" I asked.
"What?" he asked.
"Why am I to be given a third blow?" I asked. "What is its purpose?"
"You are to be given a third blow," he said, "because I choose to give you one, and because you are a slave, and that it may serve to remind you of what you are, my little charmer, that you are a slave." "Yes, Master," I whispered.I lay then on my stomach, my head to the side, tears bursting from my eyes, my fingers scratching at the stones.
I tried to understand what I felt. I almost lost consciousness. My back seemed unbelievably afire. The leather had struck like lightning on my back, how it had fallen upon me! How it had lashed down!
I lay there then, a slave who had felt the lash. I sensed that the blow, in its way, had been sparing. But it had been sharp, and it was not one I was likely to soon forget. 26.764