“The role of mistress and slave is beyond mystery.” How BDSM clubs work

On the night of November 22, a BDSM club was raided in Khabarovsk, but they came there not because of sex games, but in search of drugs. There really are such clubs in Russia, and there are not so few of them. “360” looked into how popular they are, who goes there and why.

Law enforcement officers raided the BDSM club on Thursday night. No one called the “stripper cop,” so the officers’ visit to the premises was unexpected. All partygoers were forced to lie on the floor and put their hands behind their heads. This was not a game, so everyone obediently complied with the request. When asked where the owner was, no one really answered - they only said that he was not on the premises.

It is not reported what the end result of the law enforcement visit was. There is an opinion that the photographs from the club are staged. The strange thing is that most of the girls are naked, while the men, on the contrary, are fully dressed.

Photo source: operational shooting of the Ministry of Internal Affairs in the Khabarovsk Territory

Nuances of BDSM

There are many stereotypes about BDSM clubs - for example, that any visitor who comes even “just to look” will be forcibly tied to a pole or chained, as we were shown in the Eurotrip. This is wrong. The rules of behavior in establishments are quite categorical, violations are punishable. For example, in one of the Moscow clubs of this format, sex, drunkenness, rudeness and photography are prohibited. These rules apply to almost all clubs.

Sexologist Yulia Varra, in a conversation with 360, said that BDSM entertainment exists in all countries, it’s just that in some places they are treated more loyally, while in others such clubs have to hide in the corners.

“[There are] various kinds of BDSM trends and all sorts of other deviations - as a rule, people come at any age to satisfy them. Not everyone has the depth of insight into themselves to understand what they want. And people who have accomplished something in life think about this. When he has found a job, a wife, everything is balanced, he has a place to live, something to live on, a feeling of security - then the man sits down and begins to think “what would he really want.” And very often he discovers interesting things in himself that are unexpected for himself,” Varra said.

According to the sexologist, in countries where BDSM entertainment is allowed, this area is flourishing more and more. “And here they hide in the corners, sneak around, but it’s the same thing. Needs never go away. In Russia this is very common - specifically the BDSM direction. Because historically, a fairly large contingent here is involved in domestic violence in childhood. A Russian man hits - it means he loves. And, seeing these scenes in childhood, the child then grows up and wants to repeat it from one side or another,” Varra explained.

Usually very high-status people go to BDSM clubs. “All clubs on sexual deviations are for people who have already reached a certain level. As a rule, there are no or very few students there,” the sexologist noted.

As they said back in the 18th century, I can’t give cancer to the mother of my children.

Julia Varra sexologist.

“Clients come to such clubs for a certain game scenario that excites them. Perhaps this is a scenario where the woman is dominant - this is usually the classic scenario: teacher - student, doctor - patient, queen - page. Or there is a scenario in the opposite direction, when the man is dominant and the woman does what he wants,” Varra said.

According to the sexologist, these are the sexual patterns that go back to childhood and adolescence. They “dozed for a while and then, when the man began to look for his sex-role identity, he discovered that he liked these expressions and manifestations.” After this, the man looks for someone with whom to realize them.

“As they said back in the 18th century, I can’t give cancer to the mother of my children. Exactly the same here. Not every self-respecting man can come to his wife and say: darling, put handcuffs on me, spank me with a whip, I like it that way. Respect in the family will be below par. Where is he going? To some ladies, to some establishments. In fact, demand creates supply. Very often, in such relationships there are not even sexual manifestations or there are minimal sexual manifestations,” the sexologist explained.

Photo source: Flickr

As for women, you need to know how to be a member of a BDSM club. This, according to the sexologist, is not so simple.

“As practice shows, not all girls can be mistresses, and falsehood is felt. The lady who is afraid herself simply will not get clients. Girls with psychopathic tendencies, tough by nature, strong, strong-willed, who would like to torture someone and get pleasure from it - they become mistresses, and such ladies are in great demand. When a man feels that this is that same firm hand, he comes to her again and again,” Varra concluded.

The President of the Association of Strip Clubs of Russia, Lucky Lee, told 360 that such things are practiced all over the world, but there is a difference between the Russian and foreign audience of such establishments.

“As for similar clubs in Russia and in the West, these are different audiences. In the West, BDSM culture is part of the social norm, and adults are already interested in it. They approach this process consciously. The sexual revolution has not yet occurred in Russia, and such clubs are of interest to a young audience of 25-30 years old, who are trying to understand their own sexuality and their preferences,” said Lee.

Photo source: Instagram / luckylee69

The interlocutor added that in the West, BDSM culture is interesting to a more mature and conscious audience. This industry has a set of rules, one of which is the need to communicate with each other. “People negotiate roles, communicate with each other about preferences, discuss taboos. This is a trusting environment that attracts an adult audience. They can prepare for a whole year to visit SNCTM, for example, by making their own costumes,” said Lee.

SNCTM is a Hollywood private sex club with its own special rules and rather large sums for entrance tickets.

In Russia, it seems to me that young people like the appearance, and they perceive these clubs as a themed sexual game and experience that they have never had. In this way, they want to escape the cult of conservative monogamous relationships and try to discover their own sexuality. They want to get a thrill and struggle with their own sexual tensions.

Lucky Lee.

Lee noted that in Russia there are no specific statistics on establishments of this type. According to him, in Europe, 46% of citizens visit sex shops, while in Russia - only 7%. The situation is similar with BDSM culture. However, this area began to gradually develop. Some time ago, the founder of the SNCTM club, Damon Launer, came to Moscow and held world-famous parties in the style of Stanley Kubrick’s film “Eyes Wide Shut.”

Photo source: Naked SNCTM | Trailer | Showmax

BDSM clubs are very popular in Germany and the Czech Republic. But no matter where you decide to go to such an establishment, it will always be expensive. Therefore, such leisure is more likely for wealthy people.

The role of mistress or slave - all this goes beyond the limits of mystery

Lucky Lee

According to Lee, the fashion world has become more open, and consumers are no longer shy about declaring their preferences. A person is already ready to emphasize his sexual desires with the help of clothing and aggressive behavior.

How do girls and women agree to participate in such events? Why are clubs interested in the female audience? The fact is that on most websites of BDSM clubs in Moscow there are price tags that indicate that entry is free for women, and for single men - only for money. This is apparently due to the predominant male audience.

“Of course, everything is built on mutual respect. Before you do anything, you should ask permission and discuss the desired scenario with the person. It seems to me that many girls are addicted to this - they lack attention: tactile sensations, flirting. In this way they sublimate their sexuality, which they cannot feel in ordinary life for very different reasons,” Lee concluded.

November 26, 2018

The hard life of serfs in Rus' is a resort compared to the fate of slaves in Ancient Rome. Yes, there are tyrants in our history. Take Saltychikha, for example, or remember the generally accepted practice of flogging slaves in the backyard and putting them on chains in stocks. However, the sophistication of the punishments of slaves in the greatest state of antiquity would make the hair on the head of a normal person stand on end.

How did people become slaves in ancient Rome?

Anyone familiar with history Eternal City, knows that Roman citizens made up a negligible part of the total population. The bulk of the population was slaves. According to the laws, the creditor could turn his borrower into debt slavery. A free woman caught in an affair with a slave became a slave. And finally, convicted criminals were handed over to the hands of executioners, only acquiring the status of a slave.

The main source of slave power was wars of conquest and sea robbery. Captive foreigners, regardless of social status, became slaves, whom the inhabitants of Ancient Rome considered an inferior race, called barbarians and were happy to buy from slave traders. With this attitude, the punishment of a slave turned out to be extremely inhuman and was often synonymous with torture and execution. For example, one gentleman ordered a bathhouse attendant to be burned alive in a furnace because he washed him with too warm water.

Even a simple artisan had at least 2-3 slaves, and senators and military leaders had up to several thousand. According to scientists, slaves performed at least 150 functions in the house of their owners and were mercilessly punished for every offense. Slaves owned by the state were employed in public works, such as cleaning sewers, building water pipes, or serving as magistrates. But despite the type of activity, for the most part, the attitude towards slaves was the same everywhere, and the punishments of slaves in the photographs of ancient engravings look cynical and inhumane.

A slave is an animate property that can speak

This is how slaves were considered in ancient Rome. The word “man” was not applied to slaves. In the minds of the Roman nobility, these were rude creatures, devoid of feelings and needs, suitable only for fulfilling the whims of their owners or renting them out to other masters.

The unfortunate people worked from morning to night, received terrible quality food, which was barely enough not to die of hunger. They tried to sell sick slaves cheaply, and if they failed, they were taken to the “island of Aesculapius”, where they were to die.

In Ancient Rome, the arbitrariness of masters and overseers reigned, and what is most terrible is that there was no code that would define specific criminal acts and the punishments provided for them by slaves. To be fair, the primitiveness of the judicial system affected all people who committed crimes, but free citizens did not experience the terrible arbitrariness and lawlessness to which slaves were subjected.

Crimes and Punishments

As many responsibilities as there were so many offenses, slaves were punished for literally everything, often using preventive measures. For example, in bakeries, millstones were placed around the necks of slaves to prevent hungry workers from eating flour or dough.

During hard work, exhausted slaves were driven with sticks and whips and severely beaten if they did not cope with their duties. Even crippled people were forced to continue working until they dropped dead. The punishment for a slave could be execution for accidentally breaking kitchen utensils, eating food without permission, or if he crossed the path of a procession of temple priestesses.

The murder of a slave by his master was considered a terrible crime. Then they punished not only the culprit, but killed all the slaves belonging to this owner.

Another person could be killed for fun, because he is a slave, which means personal property. In the dungeons of noble nobles, the unfortunate languished, allegedly caught by the owner in terrible sins, which required punishment - a death sentence. At the height of the feast, for the amusement of the guests, a slave was brought in and his head was ostentatiously cut off, and this was the least of the evils that the slaves of Ancient Rome had to endure.

Domestic tyranny

Masters did not hesitate to give slaps to often innocent slaves, and mistresses in a bad mood stabbed their half-naked servants with long needles. For flogging, special devices were used: whips with knots and leather whips. Those who were especially guilty were shackled in leg, hand, or neck shackles, had a mark of shame burned on their foreheads, and could be put on a chain instead of a watchdog.

The punishment of a slave by the master in anger could spill over into real self-mutilation. The master could break the bones of a slave with complete impunity or coat his head with resin and rip off his scalp. If the owner took it into his head to get another eunuch, the young slave was immediately castrated. If the master thought that the slave was too talkative, the unfortunate man's tongue was torn out. And it happened that the slave became unnecessary, or the owner saw in him an opportunity to make money.

Separation from home

During the heyday of the slave trade, one of the methods of punishing slaves in Ancient Rome was the sale of unwanted ones. Tired of tormenting a rebellious slave, the young man could be sold at a profit to a gladiator school. There the slave faced an even worse fate than in the master's house. Many young people became involved in mortal fights with their own kind and in shows with wild animals.

Beautiful boys and girls were sold to brothels, where they were used in ways that are scary to think about. Some were sent abroad or exiled to mines and quarries, where slaves continued to bring income to their owners through hard work.

If the slave was unlucky enough to witness the master's crime, the slave was sent to the dungeons to testify. There, within the framework of the judicial system, he was ordered to be tortured on special machines and savage machines, because it was believed that only under torture could a slave tell the truth.

Doomed to Death

Almost every person, having become a slave or born in captivity, understood that an inevitable and premature death awaited him. The people of Rome demanded bread and circuses, and one of the most popular entertainments of this cruel era was public executions.

Finding the condemned was not difficult. As for exemplary punishments for slaves, the list is impressive and frightening:

• beatings to death with sticks, stones and whips;
• grinding with millstones;
• decapitation;
• sawing in half;
• cutting off the nose, ears, lips and limbs;
• torn to pieces by crowds, beasts and predatory fish;
• burning at the stake and in ovens;
• burial alive;
• hanging on a hook and crucifixion;
• drowning in a leather bag;
• thrown from the Tarpeian rock.

The more painful the execution and the longer the person suffered, the more delighted the crowd was.

Not only masters, but also the descendants of freedmen committed atrocities against slaves. For example, Vedius Pollio, for the slightest offense, threw slaves into a cage with moray eels without trial or investigation.

But this situation of slaves could not last forever.

Changes for the better

The hard existence and cruel punishments of slaves inevitably led to revolts. The uprising of Spartacus became a serious threat to Rome, but after bloody battles the rebellion was suppressed - 6 thousand captive slaves were crucified on the Appian Way.

Taught by bitter experience, the authorities began to take measures to protect the rights of slaves. By order of Emperor Hadrian, anyone who tortured a slave to death or sold him to a brothel faced criminal punishment. His son, Antoninus Pius, banned the sale of children and abolished the enslavement of debtors. And Emperor Constantine the Great issued a decree according to which the deliberate murder of a slave was equivalent to the murder of a free citizen.

Which slaves had a good life?

Judging by the monstrous methods of punishment of the slaves of Rome, it seems that the free citizens of the empire are a bunch of sadists and maniacs. However, the most inhumane reprisals were not of a mass nature and most of them dated back to the reign of cruel tyrants: the emperors Caligula and Nero.

But where vice reigns, there is always a place for virtue. There were educated and decent slave owners in Ancient Rome, who were able to see in a slave not a thing, but a person. Such masters did not punish their slaves, but raised, trained and gave them their freedom. A striking example of this is Marcus Tullius Cicero and his slave Tiron, who was the secretary, biographer and friend of the famous Roman politician and philosopher.

Naturally, such a situation is acceptable only as a role-playing game, most often of a sexual nature. After all, there really are cases when in a relationship a woman is a mistress, a man is a slave. In this case, the guys are completely spineless or very loving. They twist them however they want, twist them into ropes and force them to do whatever the girl wants. Women who turn their men into slaves are spoiled, capricious hysterics who are used to everything in life always happening the way they want it. Often, such girls are the only children in the family. Under the influence of any factors, their parents blow away dust from them all their lives, tell them that they are the best, fulfill all their whims and never refuse anything. This leads to the fact that girls turn into hysterical, capricious women who know that there is only their opinion and that it is wrong. Often, there are no real friends around them. They gather servants around them who admire them and carry out all orders unquestioningly. If someone tries to express their opinion, hysteria immediately begins and this person is pathetically expelled from the company or some kind of moral punishment is invented for him. Such women most often grow up in rich families, but there are cases when such ladies live with parents who have extremely modest incomes.

It is difficult to say why men fall in love and hold on to such girls. They all understand perfectly well that they are next to a narcissistic hysterical woman, but they still continue to indulge their whims. It is possible that it has to do with beauty, because such girls often have a pleasant appearance. In addition, thanks to the fact that all their loved ones work for them, they can afford the best skin and hair care, trips to spas, fitness, vacations abroad, branded clothing and cosmetics. If such a woman works, she still spends all the money only on herself. Most often, such ladies do not have children, and if there is a child, the mother almost never worries about him. For her, it’s like a cat or a dog that you can play with, and when you get tired of it, just drive it off your lap. In such families, children are raised by the father. In principle, he also deals with other everyday problems. These men are real housewives. They prepare food, wash dishes, iron, wash, clean, help children with homework and bring breakfast, lunch and dinner to their wife in bed. And the lady is busy with herself, leafing through magazines or watching TV. When the children grow up, she begins to demand that they fulfill her whims. And if a child rebels, terrible quarrels and scandals begin in the house. Unfortunately, such a woman is almost impossible to change, and if a man chooses such a lady, he is really signing up for the fate of a slave.

Of course, the above situation is extremely negative and abnormal. Such relationships are flawed and bring suffering to all family members except the lady herself. Thanks to such women, children grow up extremely embittered (especially boys). They accept the model of their family as the only one that exists and, therefore, completely reject love, so as not to become the same rag as their father. In addition, it is very difficult for them to perceive women's love and care. They are extremely wary of this and for a long time simply do not trust it. It takes a lot of time to help such a young man believe that there are normal feelings in the world and not all women use their men. In fact, there are those who dote on their loved one and are ready to help him in all life situations.

But, if you do not take the life situation, then the desire to be a mistress can arise in a woman only in a role sense. Sometimes a lady just wants to dominate. Guide your young man. And we are not always talking about BDSM, although this, of course, is also about. In fact, many women, to whom guys, due to some circumstances, do not pay enough attention, have a desire to simply keep the man close. Thoughts may appear about how nice it would be to handcuff him with radiators, so that he could not go anywhere and would be always there. She, of course, would not offend him, she would always feed him the most delicious and favorite dishes, cut his hair, comb his hair, and dress him beautifully. I could probably even allow her access to her favorite computer. True, first, he would have to block some sites through which he could contact the outside world and ask for help in escaping. She would never hurt, hit or offend her beloved slave. She could fulfill his every whim, if only he was nearby, sat near the radiator and never left her alone.

Of course, such thoughts smack of sadism, but, in principle, there is nothing abnormal in them if the girl does not begin to think about it seriously and make plans for abduction. In such cases, the matter really smells like mental abnormalities and the lady needs to drive such thoughts away or consult a psychiatrist.

A woman is a mistress, a man is a slave, this is one of women's favorite scenarios for role-playing sexual games. A lady sometimes wants to be stronger, to dominate and control. Sometimes, there is even a desire to hurt a man, of course, within moderate limits. It is these desires that manifest themselves when a lady offers a guy BDSM. Here, too, handcuffs, batteries and many other things related to sadomasochism are used. But this is all, of course, make-believe. In fact, loving girl will never truly hurt her boyfriend. But she will imitate punishment with pleasure. Perhaps in this way we give vent to our masculinity, to some extent assert ourselves and a little punish the men we love for their mistakes and inattention to us.

Perhaps in any language in the world you can find the phrase “throw off the shackles.” And it will always be associated with a metaphor describing liberation from something heavy and oppressive, be it the shackles of the old system or the shackles of capitalism. It is not without reason that such a metaphor has such a bright color, because the shackles, with which the throwing off of metaphorical shackles are associated, are literally a heavy burden.

The history of shackles

Shackles appeared, presumably, with the beginning of metal processing by humans. The first shackles were made of bronze, in Rome and the Middle Ages they began to use iron, and with the development of metalworking in modern times, steel shackles appeared. Subsequently, the steel shackles were replaced by handcuffs. It is possible that some kind of shackles were used before the Bronze Age, but there is no archaeological evidence of this, and it is difficult to imagine what shackles could have been made of before the advent of metal. The first shackles appeared in the Bronze Age, most likely in the Assyrian kingdom. They were actively used in Ancient Greece, not only as a means of keeping prisoners in custody, but also for keeping slaves and prisoners.

They were also quite common in ancient Rome, which was no less dependent on slaves than Ancient Greece.

Shackles in the Middle Ages

In the Middle Ages, slavery, due to new economic realities, and shackles turned into an instrument of torture and detention of prisoners. And they remained so until the beginning of the 20th century, when handcuffs with a lock came into use, which were more convenient to use and easy to put on and take off. Nowadays, shackles are used in some countries, such as the United States, to transport especially dangerous prisoners. Of course, such shackles are handcuffs, but the full complex limits the prisoner’s movement no worse than in past centuries. Handcuffs for transportation come in the following types:

• ordinary handcuffs that fit on the hands;
• handcuffs attached to belt different ways, cross to cross, “hands at your sides” and others, to limit the prisoner’s ability to manipulate the lock;
• handcuffs connected to the handcuffs by a chain to restrict freedom of movement when walking, although the prisoner can still take a normal step.

The device of shackles

The shackles consist of massive metal bracelets and a chain. The chain was made large so that a prisoner could not hang himself with it or easily strangle another prisoner or guards. The shackles were closed with a metal rod, which was difficult to remove in the field. In the Middle Ages and modern times, various types of castles began to be used. The bracelet had different sizes and could be adapted to be worn on the arms, legs, and also on the neck. The chain could connect both wrist and leg shackles separately, or combine them into a single system that seriously limited freedom of movement. Shackles could be nailed to walls or floors, and a load or heavy object could be suspended from them. For example, in the penal system Russian Empire the prisoner was chained to a wheelbarrow that weighed almost 80 kilograms. Keeping prisoners in shackles was no longer practical with the advent of prisons modern style. Nowadays, shackles are used only as a fetish object.

My blanket was torn off. I screamed in fear.

- On the platform, slave! – the man ordered.

“Yes, master,” I stammered. He poked me with the whip.

Worn wooden steps spiraled up to the platform. Squatting slaves huddled together at the foot. And Sulda is here, and Tupa is sitting, clutching the blankets that have shrouded their bodies. Sasha, and not only her, has already been sold.

This can't happen to me! They can't sell me!

The handle of a whip poked into my back. I began to slowly climb the concave, wide steps worn by the bare feet of countless girls.

There are twenty steps to the platform.

My hair is now much longer - they never cut it on the Mountain, they only trimmed it, giving it shape. They hang below the shoulders, fluttering behind the back - this hairstyle is called here “slave flame”.

And I no longer wear the turian collar: after sawing it, it was torn from my neck by a slave, over whom stood an overseer with a whip. He got it once - when his finger touched my neck. Whether he did it intentionally or not, I don’t know. And the silver leaf, a sign that I happened to become the prey of Rask, a warrior and raider from Treva, is no longer in my left ear. Before dawn I was sold to a slave trader bivouacked on the outskirts of Ara. The naked woman was thrown at his feet. He quickly and competently carried out a detailed examination, making me sob with shame. Raek of Treva gave me fifteen copper tarsks. For a dugout - not bad at all. This amount was entered into the account book. Another book was held in the hands of the warrior Rask. They put my price there too, indicating whose account it should be attributed to, who was caught - Rask, a warrior from Treva. After entering information about my sale into both record books, the wire ring on which the silver leaf hung was cut off from my ear, the leaf was given to the warrior who kept records in Rask's account book, and he threw it into a nearby box. Like a dumb beast, they pushed me to the chain and placed me at the back of the head behind Sulda. Click - the turian collar dangling around my neck was fastened to a link in a heavy chain. They put Tula behind me. Only twelve tarsks of copper were fetched for it.

- Hurry up, slave! – the man standing at the foot of the stairs hurried. I hesitated. I have an oval plate on a chain around my neck with a number on it. Lot number. The number under which they sell me. Sasha - she could read - said that my number was one hundred and twenty-eight. She was one hundred and twenty-fourth. We were sold at auction at Publius's house on Ara Commercial Street. This is a mid-range auction where slaves are usually sold in large quantities at a lower price. It is far from such giants as Claudius or Kurulen auctions. Nevertheless, there is no shortage of buyers here, this market has a strong reputation - many transactions are made here.

Behind him are men's steps. The blow of the whip. I turned around.

- I'm naked! – I exhaled.

Doesn't he understand? I'm a dugout! I've been sold before, but not like this. I'm a dugout! Will I really be put on public display and sold at auction? Yes, I was sold, but privately. Appear shamelessly naked in front of a crowd of male shoppers! Unthinkable! I raised my eyes to the platform. No, I can't survive this.

The amphitheater-shaped hall is lit with torches. I have already been exhibited in a demonstration cage: future buyers must take a closer look at the product, figure out what it costs, so that later, at the auction, they do not make a mistake by increasing the price - should they have such a desire. We, exhibited in slave demonstration cages, had to follow the commands that the men standing at the cages shouted to us, turn this way and that, but they were not allowed to touch us. We were told to smile and be beautiful. There were twenty other girls sitting in the cage with me, each wearing a chain with a record around their neck. There is a list posted outside the cage: our numbers, physical characteristics, basic dimensions.

A man followed me up the stairs.

I spent eight days in the slave barracks waiting for the night of the auction. She underwent a thorough medical examination, tied her hands and feet, and endured several very painful injections. What kind of injections? For what? Doctors called the drug resistance serum. They kept us in strict conditions, locked up, and taught us some slave wisdom.

“The owner is everything in the world to you. Please him completely,” they endlessly drummed into us.

– What is resistance serum? – I asked Sasha.

“She will help you stay as you are,” she answered, kissing me, “beautiful and young.”

I stared at her, dumbfounded.

- Well, you see, both owners and free people in general - if they want, of course - can also inject themselves with this serum. “And, smiling, she added: “Only they are treated with more respect than slaves.”

- If they want? – I asked again.

- What, someone doesn’t want to?

“There are some,” answered Sasha, “but not many.” And also the descendants of those to whom it was already administered.

- But why?

- Don't know. – Sasha shrugged. - People are different.

The secret of the resistance serum apparently lies in genetic subtleties. By influencing the genetic code and the formation of gametes, it somehow neutralizes or changes the direction of cell degeneration processes, transforming metabolism so that tissues remain relatively unchanged. Aging is a physical process, which means it can be reversed using physical methods. And so the doctors of Horus set out to challenge a hitherto universal disease, what on Horus is called the disease of withering and desiccation, and on Earth - aging. Many generations of doctors devoted their lives to experiments and scientific research, and finally, having collected together the data obtained by hundreds of researchers, several scientists made a breakthrough, developed a prototype of the resistance serum, based on the improvement of which it became possible to create a miracle drug.

Trembling, stunned, I stood in the middle of the cage.

– Why is such a valuable remedy used for slaves?

- Is it really that valuable? – Sasha was surprised. - Well, yes. Maybe.

For her, this is something taken for granted, as for most of the inhabitants of the Earth - ordinary vaccinations. She doesn’t know what old age is. She had a very vague idea of ​​what would happen if the serum was not administered.

- Why not give the slaves the serum? – she asked. “Don’t masters want their slaves to be healthy and able to serve them better?”

“That’s right, Sasha,” I agreed. On Earth, farmers also vaccinate their animals to protect them from diseases. Of course, on Gor, where such a serum is readily available, it is quite natural to administer it to slaves.

Unable to control the trembling that gripped me, I stood next to Sasha. I received a gift that no amount of money could buy on Earth, a gift that was inaccessible to the rich of the rich of my home planet, because this drug simply does not exist there.

I have been gifted with an incredible treasure. I looked at the iron bars.

- But I'm in a cage!

“Of course,” Sasha picked up. -You are a slave. Now let's rest. We will be sold tonight.

A man's palm lay on my hand.

- I'm naked!

“You are a slave,” he replied.

- Don't put me in front of men! – I begged. – I’m not like others!

- On the platform, slave! “He pushed me up the stairs. My legs gave way and I fell on the steps.

He raised the whip.

- Now I’ll skin it!

- No, master!

“One hundred and twenty-eight,” came the auctioneer’s voice from the platform. My number was announced to the crowd.

I looked up. Approaching the edge of the platform, smiling friendly, the auctioneer extended his hand to me.

“I’m naked,” I managed.

- Ask! “He extended his hand towards me.

I offered my hand and he pulled me up. Round, about twenty feet in diameter, the platform is strewn with sawdust.

Holding my hand, he led me to the middle.

“She doesn’t want to,” he explained to the audience.

I stood in front of a crowd of men.

“Well, are you comfortable now, dear lady?” – he turned to me.

“Yes,” I muttered, “thank you.”

Suddenly, with unexpected anger, he threw me onto the boards at his feet. The whip whistled. He whipped me five times. Covering my head with my hands, I began to scream, and then froze, trembling, at his feet.

“Number one hundred twenty-eight,” he announced.

The attendant handed him a tablet with a stack of sheets of paper held in place by rings. He read the first page: the previous ones had already been torn off and thrown away.

- One hundred and twenty eight. – There was irritation in his voice. - Brunette, brown eyes. Height fifty-one hort, weight twenty-nine stone. Basic parameters: twenty two – sixteen – twenty two. The size of the handcuffs is second, the size of the ankles is second. The collar size is ten horts. Illiterate and in many practical respects untrained. Can't dance. The brand is “dina”, the flower of slaves. Ears are pierced. “He looked down at me and kicked me lightly. - Get up, slave!

I quickly stood up.

On three sides around the platform rise the torch-lit, crowded rows of the amphitheater. There are stepped passages between the tiers and on the sides. The tiers are crowded, spectators are eating and drinking. Here and there female figures flash in the crowd. Dressed up, wrapped in blankets, they look at me carefully. One of the women sips wine through the bedspread. A stain is spreading on the muslin. Everyone is fully dressed. And I’m only wearing a chain with a number.

- Straighter! – the auctioneer barked.

I straightened up. My back hurt terribly from the blows of the whip.

– Look at number one hundred twenty-eight! - he urged. – Who will name the price?

The crowd was silent.

Grabbing me by the hair, he forcefully pulled my head back.

- Twenty-two horts! “He shouted, pointing at my chest. - Sixteen horts! “He patted me on the waist. - Twenty-two horts! “He ran his hand over my body and put his hand on my right thigh. These are my main parameters. If necessary, the owner can use a whip to force me to maintain these dimensions. “Small,” the auctioneer continued, “but sweet, noble gentlemen, a tidbit, honestly!”

- Two tarsks! – was heard from the crowd.

“I heard: two tarsks,” the auctioneer picked up.

Of course, I’m not too big, but I can’t say I’m very small either. In earthly measurements I am five feet four inches tall and weigh about one hundred and sixty pounds. Slender, approximately twenty-eight - twenty - twenty-eight. Of course, I don’t know the size of the collar - I didn’t have to buy clothes that measure the circumference of the neck. On the Mountain this is ten horts, therefore, on Earth, accordingly, it is something like twelve and a half inches. My neck is slender and graceful. I also didn’t know the circumference of my wrists and ankles. Now I know - handcuffs and ankle rings number two. This is two individual sizes, ankles may be wider than wrists. The coincidence of these sizes is considered a sign of grace. There are four sizes in total. The first is small, the second and third are medium, the fourth is large. Of course, I couldn’t remove the size 4 ankle ring without help. But slipping out of a size four handcuff is fine, as long as it is fastened to the fourth mark. Most handcuffs and ankle rings are designed in such a way that their size can be adjusted to suit each girl. The auctioneer was standing very close.

Yes, there, on Earth, I didn’t know the circumference of my wrists and ankles: for a dugout these dimensions don’t matter, much less for the slave Horus. But the second size handcuffs have an inner circumference of five horts, and the ankle rings have seven. So my wrists are about six inches in circumference, and my ankles are about eight and a half inches. We were measured before the auction, in the barracks, and the sizes were entered into a list.

“It’s marked “Dina,” the auctioneer jabbered, showing the crowd the image of a flower of slaves on my body. “Well, don’t you want to get your hands on lovely little Dina?” Are there Dinahs among your slaves? - Holding my hair, he turned my head back and forth. - And the ears, noble gentlemen! Ears are pierced!

Yes, pierced. Four days ago, in the barracks in Publius's house. The right ear too - symmetrical to the mark of the wire loop on which the silver leaf hung - was marked with this sign by Rajek from Treva. Now I can wear earrings. Now I am the most insignificant of slaves - a slave with pierced ears.

- Five tarsks! – shouted, sipping from a bowl, a fat man wrapped in a thick robe from the middle tier on the right.

Oh my God! I don't see faces. The torches illuminate me, not the buyers.

“Stand up straight, pull your stomach in, open your hips,” hissed the auctioneer. I obeyed. My back still hurt. “Look,” he said, pointing at me with a rolled up whip, “at the outline of the ankles, notice how good the hips are, how elastic the stomach is.” Lovely figure! This amazing neck is waiting for your collar! Graceful, sensual – a beauty, and that’s all! “He looked around the crowd. “Don’t you really want to bring her to your home?” Put a collar and a tunic on her, whatever you like, put on her knees? Possess every cell of her body? She is your slave, you command, she obeys! It will serve you, instantly and unconditionally fulfill the slightest whim!

- Six tarsks! – repeated the auctioneer. - Take a walk, little Dina! And more beautiful!

My eyes filled with tears, my whole body was flushed with shame.

But I walked, and walked beautifully. Here it is, the whip, ready! Looking at the girl on display on the platform, the men became quite loud.

– Pay attention: what smooth, graceful movements, how flawless the lines! The back is straight, like a string, the head is held proud! Just a few tarsks and she's yours!

A tear rolled down his left cheek.

“Move nicely, baby,” the auctioneer warned.

- Yes, master.

I walked back and forth, turned around, dying of shame under the greedy gazes.

– Stand up proudly, Dina!

I stopped and raised my head.

– Buy it and make it work for you! Imagine - here she is naked, in your collar and chains, scratching the floor. Cleans, washes, sews! Shopping, cooking! Imagine - here she is receiving your guests! Waiting for you, spread out in furs!

- Ten tarsks!

“Ten tarsks,” repeated the auctioneer.

- Eleven! – came from the left.

- Eleven.

I peered into the crowd. Men, women. Four hundred people. Merchants roam the aisles offering snacks and drinks. I touched the chain hanging from my neck with my fingers. A man bought a piece of meat seasoned with sauce. He began to chew, looking at me. Our eyes met. I looked away. Some people were talking without paying attention to me. How I hated them! I didn’t want to be looked at - but they didn’t look!

- What a beautiful girl! – the auctioneer egged on the audience. – What about the sizes? Twenty two, sixteen, twenty two! - And poked me with a whip.

- Fourteen tarsks of copper!

- Fourteen! – the auctioneer did not let up. “But can a trading house part with such a beauty for just fourteen tarsks?” No, noble gentlemen!

- Fifteen.

- Fifteen!

For fifteen tarsks, Raek of Treva sold me to a slave trader. At Publius's house they gave him twenty for me. The auctioneer, of course, knows this. Of course, this is included in the records.

He turned his eyes to me.

“Yes, master,” I whispered.

Dissatisfied with the proposals. If the price does not suit the merchant, I will be punished at night. They will probably be severely flogged.

- On your stomach, Dina! - he ordered. - Let's get buyers interested.

- Yes, master.

I lay down at his feet, waiting for an order, looking up in fear - what if he hits? She lay there for a long time. Didn't hit. My fright amused the crowd.

“Obey, move quickly and beautifully, one hundred and twenty-eighth,” he cooed softly.

“Yes, master,” I answered.

And suddenly - the blow of the whip and abrupt:

- On the back! Raise one knee, extend the other leg, hands behind your head, cross your wrists, as if for handcuffs!

I obeyed. He began to quickly give commands one after another. Catching every word, I took poses in which slaves are shown. After only a moment allowing the audience to admire each painfully revealing pose, he barked the next command. He did not choose the sequence of positions at random; I moved to the next one easily, sometimes just rolling on the floor or turning around, but together they made up a rhythmic and smooth exquisite sensual melody, verified and precise, for me - incredibly humiliating. A kind of dance of a slave on display. I, who had once been Judy Thornton, performed the movements of a Gorean slave step by step and in the end I found myself, as in the beginning, on my stomach at his feet - trembling, covered in perspiration, tangled hair covering my eyes. The auctioneer put his foot on me. I dropped my head to the floor.

- Name the price!

- Eighteen. Nineteen? Did I hear nineteen?

“Nineteen,” came from the hall.

Tears fell onto the platform. The tips of my fingers dug into the sawdust. The body is covered with sawdust and covered with sweat.

There is a curled whip right next to the eyes.

There are women in the crowd. Well, why don’t they jump up and be indignant? After all, their sister’s dignity is being trampled here!

But no, they look calm. I am just a slave.

- Twenty! – someone shouted.

- Twenty. “The auctioneer removed his leg and poked me with the whip. - On knees!

At the very edge of the platform I knelt in a position of pleasure.

“Twenty copper tarsks were offered for this lovely baby,” announced the auctioneer. - Who is bigger? – He looked around the crowd.

I froze. The trading house paid exactly twenty for me.

“Twenty-one,” the man suggested.

- Twenty one.

I breathed more freely. Although small, it is a profit.

I never forgot for a minute about the plate on my neck. The chain is short and fits tightly around the throat. Buttoned up. Don't take it off.

They give me twenty-one tarsks.

This means that I will not bring a loss to the Publius trading house

Keeping a girl behind bars on straw in slave barracks for several days and teaching her something costs a pittance.

How much does slave stew and whip cost?

– They offer twenty-one tarsks! - the auctioneer shouted. - Who is bigger?

Suddenly there was a feeling of fear. What if the merchant’s profit is not satisfactory? The profit is quite small. I hope he will be satisfied. I tried my best and listened to every word. I was afraid that they would flog me.

Gorean men are not lenient towards a girl who has caused discontent.

“Get up, you chained creature,” the auctioneer threw at me.

I got up.

“Well,” he addressed the audience, “it looks like we’ll have to part with this beauty for just twenty-one tarsks of copper.”

“Please don’t be angry, master,” I whined.

“Nothing, Dina,” he responded with unexpected warmth after the recent harshness.

Falling to my knees in front of him, I hugged his legs and looked into his eyes:

- Is the owner happy?

“Yes,” he answered.

- So Dina won’t be whipped?

- Of course not. “He looked kindly into my face. “It’s not your fault that the bargaining is slowly gaining momentum.”

- Thank you, master.

“Now get up, baby, and quickly get off the platform.” We also have some cattle for sale here.

- Yes, master. – I hastily jumped to my feet, turned and rushed to the stairs - not to the one I had climbed, but from the opposite side of the platform.

“Just a minute, Dina,” he stopped me. - Come here.

- Yes, master. “I ran up to him.

“Put your hands behind your head,” he ordered, “and don’t move until I give permission.”

- Master?

I put my hands behind my head. Taking me by the neck, he turned me towards the audience.

- Take a look, noble ladies and gentlemen!

The blow of a heavy, knotted whip fell on me.

- No need! No, please, master! – I screamed, not daring to take my hands off my head. Another second and I’ll start tearing my hair out from pain and helplessness! - Please don't, master! “Trying to dodge the whip, I writhed and spun under the blows. He held my neck tightly.

- Squirm, Dina! Squirm!

I screamed, begging for mercy.

“Did you really think,” he hissed, “that one tarsk of profit would satisfy us?” Do you think we're fools? Buy a girl for twenty and sell her for twenty-one? You think we don’t know how to trade here, you whore?

I begged for mercy.

But, having finished this demonstrative spanking, he let go of my neck. Still holding my hands behind my head, looking down, I fell on my knees in front of him.

– You can put your hands down!

I covered my face with my hands, crying. She stood in front of him, trembling, sobbing, her knees tightly pressed together.

“Forty copper tarsks,” was heard from the rows, “from the Tavern of the Two Chains.”

– “Delightful Silks” raises to fifty!

So deceive me! The auctioneer set a trap and caught him by surprise! He forced me to show myself in all my glory without any pretense - and, without wanting it myself, I appeared before the crowd in all my natural helplessness - a real slave.

– “Golden Shackles” gives seventy!

Cooked up well! First, he squeezed everything he could out of the crowd, and then, stunning the audience and plunging the slave into confusion, he put on display the most intimate things - vulnerability, vulnerability, pliability, properties as integral to her as breast volume or waist circumference, and also put up for sale. My sensitivity is also included in the price - as well as intelligence, dexterity and training. The Gorean buys the whole girl, whole, with all her giblets, and everything about her must suit him.

– Eighty tarsks of copper – “Fragrant fetters”! Can't be!

“Hot as a pata,” a man laughed.

“Exactly,” said another, “I wish she could wear my collar!”

And I, sobbing, knelt on the market platform. Well, how could you control yourself when the whip touched your body? No, it's not in my power.

- “Silver Cage” gives eighty-five!

I was shaking with sobs. Naked, in full view of everyone. Whoever pays the most will buy. I knew: they weren’t just selling a beauty here—a beauty would have gone for twenty-one tarsks—no, there was something more for sale. Beautiful slave.

– “Silver Cage” gives eighty-five copper tarsks! – the auctioneer shouted. - Who is bigger?

“A collar with a bell,” was heard from the rows. – One silver tarsk!

Silence reigned in the hall.

– One silver tarsk! – declared the auctioneer. Seems happy.

I stood with my head bowed. The knees are tightly together. Shoulders tremble a little. The innkeepers began to bargain. I already had some idea of ​​what it was like to be a slave who spreads patu. The tavern slaves on the Mountain, dressed in silk and hung with bells, are well known. Their purpose is to please the owner's clients. The cost of their services is included in the price of a bowl of pagi.

– “Collar with a bell” gives one tarsk of silver! – the auctioneer shouted. - Who is bigger?

Looking into the hall, I shuddered. Eyes! Women's eyes from under the covers. Frozen poses, tense faces. Undisguised hostility. How painful it is to stand naked as a slave under the gaze of women! You feel doubly naked. It would be better if the audience consisted of only men. Women... Do they, even involuntarily, compare themselves to me? Or maybe they are wondering if they will be able to give a man greater pleasure? Why exactly now did their eyes flare up with such anger, such indignation? Until now they looked at her condescendingly, as just another slave. Well, they will sell her in a series of others like her for a handful of coppers. No, now we look at it in a new way. Now there was hatred in his eyes. Hatred of free women for a slave, sensual and desirable. Are they jealous? Envy of male attention? Do they deep down want to be on the platform themselves? Don't know. Free women are often cruel to beautiful slaves; don’t expect any leniency from them. Maybe they realize that we are more attractive to men, maybe they feel the threat posed by slaves, they see us as competitors - and lucky ones. Don't know. Maybe they are afraid - either of us, or of the slaves in themselves. Don't know. But what most likely infuriated them was the way I reacted to the blows of the auctioneer’s whip. Consumed by the desire to give themselves, free women are proud that they can afford not to give themselves, to preserve their dignity, to remain an individual. We, slaves, do not have such luxury. Whether they like it or not, slaves must give themselves, give themselves completely. Maybe free women don’t want to be free, maybe their nature attracts them, like slaves, under the power of the strong? Maybe the slave's lot seduces? Don't know. One thing is clear: a free woman experiences a deep, irresistible hostility towards her chained sister, especially if she is beautiful. And slaves are afraid of free women. They dream that a man, not a woman, will put the collar on them. Well, trading is at its zenith. Now it is clear to the spectators: I should be a tavern slave - hot, like a hot seasoning, tasty and attractive; enchanting, like music, accompaniment to the fiery yellow page. This was what added fuel to the fire and made him look more closely at his companion. But won't he frequent the new tavern now? Scary, the hostility of the women was frightening. I am a slave.

“Stand up, little Dina,” the auctioneer ordered. I got up.

Suppressing sobs, she pulled back her hair. She looked around the crowd, men and women sitting on the benches.

“The Bell Collar Tavern gives silver tarsk,” the auctioneer repeated. – Any other suggestions?

Strangely, at that moment Eliza Nevins, my former rival, came to mind. It would amuse her to look at me, naked, on the market platform.

– Sold for silver tarsk to the Collar and Bell tavern!

He pushed me toward the stairs, and I stumbled down the steps on the opposite side of the platform.

- One hundred twenty-nine! – I heard it behind me.

At the foot of the stairs they dragged me to a chain with handcuffs and placed me behind a kneeling girl. She didn’t even raise her head, didn’t even look at me. "On knees!" – the man ordered. I knelt down. He fastened the handcuff hanging from a chain around my wrist. Soon another slave sold at auction was fastened behind me, and another, and another. I was on my knees. A chain hung from his hand. Sold.