A conversation about discipline

"Why did you beat me?" she asked.

It was a fair question. She was not due an answer, of course, as she is only a slave. One may beat slaves as one pleases. It is best not to impede on another man's discipline of his property, but most are grateful when one takes the time to keep his chattel in line. If I strode through a field, and noticed one verr grazing apart from the rest of the herd, for example, few shepherds would take issue with me slapping a wayward verr about the flank to get it going in the right direction.

"You are a woman," I answered, stating the obvious.

"It hurts," she said to me. Over the last few hands, she has refrained from challenging my right to discipline her, or use her, or put her to menial purposes. She has, however, attempted to charm me, or otherwise dissuade me from such things with a pout, or tears, or a forlorn expression.

"Discipline is not intended to be a perfunctory exercise," I answered.

"Do I hesitate to obey, or fail to give my very best effort in whatever you ask of me?" she asked.

"I ask nothing of you, slave girl," I answered.

"Forgive me, Master," she said. "Do I hesitate to obey, or fail to give my very best effort in whatever you command?"

"You are not a stupid girl," I said.

"No, Master," she said. "Mina is not a stupid girl."

"I am beaten," she said, confirming, "because I am a woman."

I nodded, adding, "Also, I enjoy it."

"Why do you enjoy beating me, Master?" she asked.

"Because you are a woman," I said.

I am aware that the logic is circular, but that is how things often are. The truest things, are often the simplest things. There does not need to be a grand, convoluted theorem for the nature of men and women. Doubtless, there is a Scribe or Physician that will have a deeper, physiological or anthropological reason that ends up at exactly the same explanation. Scribes and Physicians are known to study all things obvious and elusive, for the joy of learning and the advancement of civilization. So I am told. Someone has to do that, I suppose.

"All women are not beaten, Master," she reasoned.

"All true women, women who have successfully embraced their nature, who have been permitted by men to do so, are beaten," I countered.

"I am a true woman," she said.

"You have been permitted to be a true woman," I granted.

"Thank you, Master," she answered. "Master?"

"Speak."

"Purchase me," she begged. "I know the Tavern Master will..."

She did not finish her sentence. She stopped speaking when the back of my hand connected with her cheek, sending her sprawling to the floor.

"The business of men is not a slave girl's concern," I said to her.