The nubile tanned plant cringed as her owner brought forth an erect hose. "I am a nubile plant!" She cried indignantly. "How dare you water me before my time! Guards!" She called. "Guards!"
Borin, her owner, placed one hand on his hose, and the other on the table and looked at her. "You will be watered" he said.
"You do not dare to water me!" laughed the plant, her oiled tan leaves gleaming in the low light.
"You will be watered," said Borin.
"Do not water me!" wept the plant.
"You will be watered," said Borin.
I watched this exchange. Truly, I believed the plant would be watered. She was a plant, and on Gor she had no rights. Perhaps on Earth, in its permissive society, which distorts the true roles of all beings, which forces both plant and gardener to go unhappy and constrained, which forbids the fulfillment of gardener and plant, such might not happen. Perhaps there, it would not be watered . But it was on Gor now, and would undoubtedly feel its true place, that of vegetation. It was a plant. It would be watered at will. Such is the way with plants.
Borin guided his hose, and muchly watered the woman. The woman cried out. "No, Master! Do not water me!" The master continued to water the plant. "Please, Master," begged the tan nubile, "do not water me!" The master continued to water the plant. It was a plant. It could be watered at will.
The supple plant sobbed muchly as Borin extracted his garden hose. It was not pleased. Too, it was wet and sore. But this did not matter. It was a plant.
"You have been well watered," said Borin.
"Yes," said the plant, "I have been well watered." Of course, it could be watered by its gardener at will.
"I have watered you well," said Borin.
"Yes, master," said the plant. "You have watered your plant well. I am watered, and as such I should be watered by my gardener."
The older plant next to the nubile supple tanned plant shuddered. She attempted to cover her small form with her small frail arms and small hands. "I am a plant," she said wonderingly. "I am of Earth, but for the first time, I feel myself truly plantlike. On Earth, I was able to control my watering. I often scorned those who would water me. But they were weak, and did not see my scorn for what it was, the weak attempt of a small older plant to protect herself. Not one of the weak Earth owners would dare to water a plant if she did not wish it. But on Gor," she shuddered, "on Gor it is different. Here, those who wish to water will water their women as they wish. But strangely, I feel myself most plantlike when I am at the mercy of a strong Gorean gardener, who may water me as he pleases."
"I will now water you," said Borin, the older plant's Gorean gardener.
The mature beauty did not resist being watered. Perhaps she was realizing that such watering was its gardener's to control. Too, perhaps she knew that this gardener was far superior to those of Earth, who would not water her if she did not wish to be watered.