Elizabeth and Aphris entered, carrying the kettle between them, which they sat on the brass and copper grating over the fire bowl in the wagon.
“Go ahead and ask him,” prompted Elizabeth, “Slave.”
Aphris seemed frightened, confused.
“Meat!” said Kamchak.
After we had eaten and the girls had eaten with us, there not being that night much time for observing the amenities, Elizabeth poked Aphris, “Ask him,” she said.
Aphris lowered her head and shook it.
Elizabeth looked at Kamchak.  “One of your slaves,” she said, “would like to ask you something.”
“Which one?” inquired Kamchak.
“Aphris,” said Elizabeth firmly.
“No,” said Aphris, “no, Master.”
“Give him Ka-la-na wine,” prompted Elizabeth.
Aphris got up and fetched not a skin, but a bottle, of wine, Ka-la-na wine, from the Ka-la-na orchards of great Ar itself.  She also brought a black, red-trimmed wine crater from the isle of Cos.
“May I serve you?” she asked.
Kamchak’s eyes glinted.  “Yes,” he said.
She poured wine into the crater and replaced the bottle.  Kamchak had watched her hands very carefully.  She had had to break the seal on the bottle to open it.  The crater had been upside down when she had picked it up.  If she had poisoned the wine she had certainly done so deftly.
Then she knelt before him in the position of the Pleasure Slave and, head down, arms extended, offered him the crater.
He took it and sniffed it and then took a wary sip.
Then he threw back his head and drained the crater.  “Hah!” said he when finished.
Aphris jumped.
“Well,” said Kamchak, “what is it that a Turian wench would crave of her master?”
“Nothing,” said Aphris.
“If you do not ask him, I shall,” said Elizabeth.
“Speak, Slave!” shouted Kamchak and Aphris went white and shook her head.
“She found something today,” said Elizabeth, “that someone had thrown away.”
“Bring it!” said Kamchak.
Timidly Aphris rose and went to the thin rep-cloth blanket that was her bedding near the boots of Kamchak.  Hidden in the blanket there was a faded yellow piece of cloth, which she had folded very small.
She brought it to Kamchak and held it out to him.
He took it and whipped it out.  It was a worn, stained Turian camisk, doubtless one that had been worn by one of the Turian maidens acquired in Love War.
Aphris had her head to the rug, trembling.
When she looked up at Kamchak there were tears in her eyes.  She said, very softly, “Aphris of Turia, the slave girl, begs her master that she might clothe herself.”
“Aphris of Turia,” laughed Kamchak, “begs to be permitted to wear a camisk!”
The girl nodded and swiftly put her head down.
“Come here, Little Aphris,” said Kamchak.
She came forward.
He put his hands in the strings of diamonds on her throat.  “Would you rather wear diamonds or the camisk?” he asked.
“Please, Master,” she said, “the camisk.”
Kamchak jerked the diamonds from her collar and threw them to the side of the room.  Then he withdrew from his pouch the key to her collar and bells and, lock by lock, removed them from her.  She could hardly believe her eyes.
“You were very noisy,” Kamchak said to her, sternly.
Elizabeth clapped her hands with pleasure and began to consider the camisk.
“A slave girl is grateful to her master,” said Aphris, tears in her eyes.
“Properly so,” agreed Kamchak.
Then, delighted, Aphris, assisted by Elizabeth Cardwell, donned the yellow camisk.  Against her dark almond eyes and long black hair the yellow camisk was exceedingly lovely.
“Come here,” commanded Kamchak, and Aphris ran lightly to him, timidly.
“I will show you how to wear a camisk,” said Kamchak, taking the cord and adjusting it with two or three pulls and jerks that just about took the wind out of the Turian girl.  He then tied it tightly about her waist.  “There,” he said, “that is how a camisk is worn.”  I saw that Aphris of Turia would be marvelously attractive in the garment.
Then, to my surprise, she walked a bit in the wagon and twirled twice before Kamchak.  “Am I not pretty, Master?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Kamchak, nodding.
She laughed with delight, as proud of the worn camisk as she might have been once of robes of white and gold.
“For a Turian slave,” added Kamchak.
“Of course,” she laughed, “for a Turian slave!”
[Nomads of Gor pages 150-152]

quote:

ORIGINAL: SimonofTabor

Greetings aelebera,

You are indeed wrong there. As I said there are dozens of occassions when slaves use third person speech in the books ...

quote:

ORIGINAL: xoxi

Just wondering - to the Masters, do you prefer that your girl talks in third person, or do you prefer that she doesn't?  Or do you not care either way?

To the slaves - same question, which do you prefer, and why?