Verna looked down upon me. "You wished to take us as slaves," she said, "it is you who have been taken slave." I looked up at her in horror. I pulled at the thongs. "Shave him," she said. I fought, but two girls held my head, and Mira, laughing, with a small bowl of lather and a shaving knife, shave the two-and-one-half-inch degradation stripe on my head, from the forehead to the back of my neck. "You are now well marked," said Verna, "as a man who has fallen to women."

"Excellent," said Verna. She looked down at me, and laughed. "Any panther girl," she said, "who falls to men deserves the collar." She fingered the hilt of the knife. "There is a saying among panther girls," she said, "that any girl who permits herself to fall to men desires in her heart to be their slave."

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