Below is every reference to the Gorean Free Woman as shown in the series. It is not my desire to fill up more space with trying to shade your opnion one way or the other. Instead, you can make up your own mind.
I realized that she had spoken to me as a free woman, using my name.
Tarnsman of Gor Book 1 Page 72
Many of the free women of Gor and almost always those of High Caste wear the Robes of Concealment, though, of course, their garments are seldom as complex or splendidly wrought as those of a Ubar’s daughter. The Robes of Concealment, in function, resemble the garments of Muslim women on my own planet, though they are undoubtedly more intricate and cumbersome. Normally, of men, only a father and a husband may look upon the woman unveiled.
Tarnsman of Gor Book 1 Page 87
Free women on Gor do not travel attended by only a single warrior, not of their own free will.
Tarnsman of Gor Book 1 Page 112
I rejoiced that in at least one city on Gor the free women were not expected to wear the Robes of Concealment, confine their activities largely to their own quarters, and speak only to their blood relatives and, eventually, the Free Companion.
I thought that much of the barbarity of Gor might perhaps be traced to this foolish suppression of the fair sex, whose gentleness and intelligence might have made such a contribution in softening her harsh ways. To be sure, in certain cities, as had been the case in Ko-ro-ba, women were permitted status within the caste system and had a relatively unrestricted existence.
Indeed, in Ko-ro-ba, a woman might even leave her quarters without first obtaining the permission of a male relative or the Free Companion, a freedom which was unusual on Gor. The women of Ko-ro-ba might even be found sitting unattended in the theater or at the reading of epics.
Outlaw of Gor Book 2 Page 49 – 50
Why was the girl alone?
Had her protectors been killed? Was she perhaps an escaped slave, fleeing from a hated master? Could she be, like myself, an exile from Ko-ro-ba? Its peoples have been scattered, I said to myself, and no two stones and no two men of Ko-ro-ba may stand again side by side. I gritted my teeth. The thought ran through my head, no stone may stand upon another stone.
If she were of Ko-ro-ba, I knew that I could not, for her own welfare, stay with her or help her. It would be to invite the Flame Death of the Priest-Kings for one or the other, perhaps both of us. I had seen a man die the Flame Death, the High Initiate of Ar on the summit of Ar’s Cylinder of Justice, consumed in the sudden burst of blue fire that bespoke the displeasure of the Priest-Kings. Slim though her chances might be to escape wild beasts or slavers, they would be greater than the chance of escaping the wrath of the Priest-Kings.
If she were a free woman and not unfortunate, to be alone in this place was unwise and foolish.
Outlaw of Gor Book 2 Page 51
I missed in the crowd the presence of slave girls, common in other cities, usually lovely girls clad only in the brief, diagonally striped slave livery of Gor, a sleeveless, briefly skirted garment terminating some inches above the knee, a garment that contrasts violently with the heavy, cumbersome Robes of Concealment worn by free women. Indeed, it was known that some free women actually envied their lightly clad sisters in bondage, free, though wearing a collar, to come and go much as they pleased, to feel the wind on the high bridges, the arms of a master who celebrated their beauty and claimed them as his own.
Outlaw of Gor Book 2 Page 66
Perhaps I was most startled on the silent streets of Tharna by the free women. They walked in this city unattended, with an imperious step, the men of Tharna moving to let them pass in such a way that they never touched. Each of these women wore resplendent Robes of Concealment, rich in color and workmanship, standing out among the drab garments of the men, but instead of the veil common with such robes the features of each were hidden behind a mask of silver. The masks were of identical design, each formed in the semblance of a beautiful, but cold face.
Outlaw of Gor Book 2 Page 67
Lara stood beside me, clad as a free woman but not in the Robes of Concealment. She had shortened and trimmed one of the gracious Gorean garments, cutting it to the length of her knees and cutting away the sleeves so that they fell only to her elbows. It was a bright yellow and she had belted it with a scarlet sash. Her feet wore plain sandals of red leather. About her shoulders, at my suggestion, she had wrapped a cloak of heavy wool.
Outlaw of Gor Book 2 Page 211
The Gorean male, at ease, usually sits cross-legged and the female kneels, resting back on her heels. The position of the Tower Slave, in which Vika knelt, differs from that of a free woman only in the position of the wrists which are held before her and, when not occupied, crossed as though for binding. A free woman’s wrists are never so placed. The Older Tarl, who had been my mentor in arms years ago in Ko-ro-ba, had once told me the story of a free woman, desperately in love with a warrior, who, in the presence of her family was entertaining him, and whose wrists, unconsciously, had assumed the position of a slave. It was only with difficulty that she had been restrained from hurling herself in mortification from one of the high bridges. The Older Tarl had guffawed in recounting this anecdote and was scarcely less pleased by its sequel. It seems she thereafter, because of her embarrassment, would never see the warrior and he, at last, impatient and desiring her, carried her off as a slave girl, and returned to the city months later with her as his Free Companion. At the time that I had been in Ko-ro-ba the couple had still been living in the city. I wondered what had become of them. The position of the Pleasure Slave, incidentally, differs from the position of both the free woman and the Tower Slave. The hands of a Pleasure Slave normally rest on her thighs but, in some cities, for example, Thentis, I believe, they are crossed behind her. More significantly, for the free woman’s hands may also rest on her thighs, there is a difference in the placement of the knees. In all these kneeling positions, incidentally, even that of the Pleasure Slave, the Gorean woman carries herself well; her back is straight and her chin is high. She tends to be vital and beautiful to look upon.
Priest-Kings of Gor Book 3 Page 46 – 47
I knew what must now pass, and it was what would have passed in any city or on any road or trail or path in Gor. She was a captive female, and must, naturally, submit to her assessment as prize; she must also be, incidentally, examined for weapons; a dagger or poisoned needle is often concealed in the clothing of free women.
Nomads of Gor Book 4 Page 37
Aphris of Turia, pleased with herself, assumed her place between the merchant and Kamchak, kneeling back on her heels in the position of the Gorean free woman.
Her back was very straight and her head high, in the Gorean fashion.
Nomads of Gor Book 4 Page 94
“I now understand,” she said, “why it is that free women never enter Paga taverns.”
Assassin of Gor Book 5 Page 22
I remember the days in Ko-ro-ba fondly, though there were certain problems.
Or perhaps one should say, simply, there was Elizabeth. Elizabeth, besides speaking boldly out on a large number of delicate civic, social and political issues, usually not regarded as the Province of the fairer sex, categorically refused to wear the cumbersome Robes of Concealment traditionally expected of the free woman. She still wore the brief, exciting leather of a Tuchuk wagon girl and, when striding the high bridges, her hair in the wind, she attracted much attention, not only, obviously, from the men, but from women, both slave and free.
Once a slave girl bumped into her on one of the bridges and struck at her, thinking she was only slave, but Elizabeth, with a swift blow of her small fist, downed the girl, and managed to seize one ankle and prevent her from tumbling from the bridge. “Slave!” cried the girl. At this point Elizabeth hit her again, almost knocking her once more from the bridge. Then, when they had their hands in one another’s hair, kicking, the slave girl suddenly stopped, terrified, not seeing the gleaming, narrow band of steel locked on Elizabeth’s throat. “Where is your collar?” she stammered.
“What collar?” asked Elizabeth, her fists clenched in the girl’s hair.
“The collar,” repeated the girl numbly.
“I’m free,” said Elizabeth.
Suddenly the girl howled and fell to her knees before Elizabeth, kneeling trembling to the whip. “Forgive me, Mistress,” she cried. “Forgive me!”
When one who is slave strikes a free person the penalty is not infrequently death by impalement, preceded by lengthy torture.
“Oh, get up!” said Elizabeth irritably, jerking the poor girl to her feet.
They stood there looking at one another.
“After all,” said Elizabeth, “why should it be only slave girls who are comfortable and can move freely?”
“Aren’t you slave?” asked one of the men nearby, a Warrior, looking closely.
Elizabeth slapped him rather hard and he staggered back, “No, I am not,” she informed him.
He stood there rubbing his face, puzzled. A number of people had gathered about, among them several free women.
“If you are free,” said one of them, “you should be ashamed of yourself, being seen on the bridges so clad.”
“Well,” said Elizabeth, “if you like walking around wrapped up in blankets, you are free to do so.” “Shameless!” cried the free girl. “You probably have ugly legs,” said Elizabeth. “I do not!” retorted the girl. “Don’t choke on your veil,” advised Elizabeth. “I am really beautiful!” cried the free girl. “I doubt it,” said Elizabeth. “I am!” she cried.
“Well then,” said Elizabeth, “what are you ashamed of?” Then Elizabeth strode to her and, to the girl’s horror, on one of the public high bridges, face-stripped her. The girl screamed but no one came to her aid, and Elizabeth spun her about, peeling off layers of Robes of Concealment until, in a heavy pile of silk, brocade, satin and starched muslin the girl stood in a sleeveless, rather brief orange tunic, attractive, of a sort sometimes worn by free women in the privacy of their own quarters.
The girl stood there, wringing her hands and wailing. The slave girl had backed off, looking as though she might topple off the bridge in sheer terror.
Elizabeth regarded the free woman. “Well,” she said, “you are rather beautiful, aren’t you?”
The free woman stopped wailing. “Do you think so?” she asked.
“Twenty gold pieces, I’d say,” appraised Elizabeth.
“I’d give twenty-three,” said one of the men watching, the same fellow whom Elizabeth had slapped. In fury the free woman turned about and slapped him again, it not being his day in Ko-ro-ba. “What do you think?” asked Elizabeth of the cringing slave girl.
“Oh, I would not know,” she said, “I am only a poor girl of Tyros.”
“That is your misfortune,” said Elizabeth. “What is your name?”
“Rena,” said she, “if it pleases Mistress.”
“It will do,” said Elizabeth. “Now what do you think?”
“Rena?” asked the girl.
“Yes,” snapped Elizabeth. “Perhaps you are a dull-witted slave?”
The girl smiled. “I would say twenty-five gold pieces,” she said.
Elizabeth, with the others, inspected the free girl. “Yes,” said Elizabeth, “Rena, I think you’re right.” Then she looked at the free girl. “What is your name, Wench?” she demanded.
The girl blushed. “Relia,” she said. Then she looked at the slave girl. “Do you really think I would bring so high a price Rena?”
“Yes, Mistress,” said the girl.
“Yes, Relia,” corrected Elizabeth.
The girl looked frightened for a moment. “Yes Relia,” she said.
Relia laughed with pleasure.
“I don’t suppose an exalted free woman like yourself,” said Elizabeth, “drinks Ka-la-na?” “Of course I do,” said Relia.
“Well,” said Elizabeth, turning to me, who had been standing there, as flabbergasted as any on the bridge, “we shall have some.” She looked at me. “You there,” she said, “a coin for Ka-la-na.”
Dumbfounded I reached in my pouch and handed her a coin, a silver Tarsk.
Elizabeth then took Relia by one arm and Rena by the other. “We are off,” she announced, “to buy a bottle of wine.”
“Wait,” I said, “I’ll come along.”
“No, you will not,” she said, with one foot kicking Relia’s discarded Robes of Concealment from the bridge. “You,” she announced, “are not welcome.”
Then, arm in arm, the three girls started off down the bridge.
“What are you going to talk about?” I asked, plaintively.
“Men,” said Elizabeth, and went her way, the two girls, much pleased, laughing beside her.
I do not know whether or not Elizabeth’s continued presence in Ko-ro-ba would have initiated a revolution among the city’s free women or not. Surely there had been scandalized mention of her in circles even as august as that of the High Council of the City. My own father, Administrator of the City, seemed unnerved by her. Assassin of Gor Book 5 Page 73 – 76
Free women, here and there, were delicately putting tidbits beneath their veils. Some even lifted their veils somewhat to drink of the flavored ices. Some low-caste free women drank through their veils and there were yellow and purple stains on the rep-cloth.
Assassin of Gor Book 5 Page 141
“The slave Phais,” I said, “and the girls of the Street of Pots, were of your party.”
“Yes,” said Hup, “and most useful. Slave girls, as is not the case with free women, may go almost anywhere in the city, gathering information, carrying messages.
Assassin of Gor Book 5 Page 389
Virginia was clad in garments cut from the beautiful, many colored robes of concealment of the free woman. But, proud of her beauty and glorious in her joy, she had boldly shortened the garments almost to the length of slave livery, and a light, diaphanous orange veil loosely held her hair and lay about her throat. She wore the robes of concealment in such a way as not to conceal but enhance her great loveliness. She had discovered herself and her beauty on this harsh world, and was as proud of her body as the most brazen of slave girls, and would not permit its being shut away from the wind and the sunlight. The garments suggested the slave girl and yet insisted, almost demurely, on the reserve, the pride and dignity of the free woman. The combination was devastating, tormentingly attractive, an achievement so tantalizing and astoundingly exciting that I would not be surprised if it were adopted throughout Ar by the city’s free women, rebellious, proud of their bodies, at last determined to throw off centuries of restriction, of confinement and sequestration, at last determined to stand forth as individuals, female individuals, sensuous as slave girls but yet rich in their own persons, intelligent, bold, beautiful, free. I mused to myself that slave raids on Ar might grow more frequent.
Assassin of Gor Book 5 Page 408
“Know you not,” asked she, with sudden insolence and coldness, “that I am a free woman?”
I said nothing.
“Dare you aspire to a free woman?” she demanded.
“No,” I said.
“Dare you aspire to your mistress, Slave?” she demanded.
“No,” I said, “no!”
“Why not?” she demanded.
“I am a slave,” I said. “Only a slave.”
“That is true,” she said. “You are only a slave.”
Raiders of Gor Book 6 Page 36
“I never thought,” Tab was saying, “that I would find a free woman of interest.” He had one arm about Midice.
“On a peasant holding,” said Thurnock, defensively, as though he must justify having freed Thura, “one can get much more work from a free woman!” He pounded the table. Thura wore talenders in her hair.
Raiders of Gor Book 6 Page 304
“A retinue!” shouted one of the guards.
“There is a free woman with the retinue!” shouted another.
I heard Targo crying out. “Slaves out!”
I was thrilled. I had never seen a Gorean free woman.
Page 72
I watched the flat wagon rolling closer.
The woman sat regally on the curule chair, wrapped in resplendent, many-colored silks. Her raiment might have cost more than any three or four of us together were worth. She was, moreover, veiled.
“Do you dare look upon a free woman?” asked a guard. I not only dared, but I was eager to do so. But, nudged by his foot, as the wagon approached, I lowered my head to the grass, as did the other girls.
The wagon, and the retinue, stopped only a few feet opposite us.
I did not dare to raise my head.
. . .
“Lift your head, Child,” said a woman’s voice.
I did so.
She was no older than I, I am sure, but she addressed me as a child.
Page 73
. . .
I looked into her eyes. How steadily she regarded me, over her veil, her eyes mused. How beautiful she seemed. How splendid and fine! I could no longer meet her eyes.
“You may lower your head, Girl,” she said, not unkindly. Gratefully I put my head again, swiftly, to the grass.
. . .
When the wagon, and the retinue, had passed us, Targo straightened up. He had a strange expression on his face. He was pleased about something.
. . .
“Who was she?” asked the grizzled, one-eyed guard. “The Lady Rena of Lydius,” said Targo, “of the Builders.”
. . .
That night, at a stream, we stopped early to camp.
Page 74
. . .
Out of the darkness came two men, warriors. Between them, face-stripped, was a woman, stumbling. Her arms, over her resplendent robes, were bound to her sides with a broad leather strap. She was thrown to the feet of Targo.
. . .
“You were foolish to hire mercenaries to guard you,” said Targo.
“Please!” she cried.
I recognized her then. She was the woman with the retinue.
Page 75
. . .
“Please!” wept the woman. I admitted to myself that she was beautiful.
“You have an admirer,” Targo told her, “a Captain of Tyros, who glimpsed you in Lydius last fall. He has contracted to buy you privately in Ar, to be taken to his pleasure gardens on Tyros. He will pay one hundred pieces of gold.”
Several of the girls gasped.
“Who?” asked the captive, plaintively.
“You will learn when you are sold to him,” said Targo. “Curiosity is not becoming in a Kajira,” said Targo. “You might be beaten for it.”
I remembered that the large man, on the planet Earth, had said to me this thing. I gathered that it was a Gorean saying.
The woman, distraught, shook her head.
“Think!” urged Targo. “Were you cruel to someone? Did you slight someone? Did you not grant someone the courtesy that was his due?”
The woman looked terrified.
“Strip her,” said Targo.
“No, no!” she wept.
Captive of Gor Book 7 Page 76
“Who are these women?” I asked. “Where do they come from?”
“Some were doubtless once slaves,” said Ute. “Others were once free women. Perhaps they did not care for matches arranged by their parents. Perhaps they did not care for the ways of their cities with respect to women. Who knows? In many cities a free woman may not even leave her dwelling without the permission of a male guardian or member of her family.” Ute smiled up at me. “In many cities a slave girl is more free to come and go, and be happy, than a free woman.”
Captive of Gor Book 7 Page 82
“Slave,” she sneered.
“Yes, Mistress,” I whispered, and looked down. I could not meet her eyes, those of a free woman.
Captive of Gor Book 7 Page 138
“The piercing of the ears is far more terrible,” said Ute. “Nose rings are nothing. They are even pretty. In the south even the free women of the Wagon Peoples wear nose rings.” She held me more closely. “Even free women in the south,” she insisted, “the free women of the Wagon Peoples, wear nose rings.” She kissed me. “Besides,” she said, “it may be removed, and no one will ever know that you wore it. It will not show.” Then Ute’s eyes clouded with tears. I looked at the tiny steel rods holding open the wounds in her ears. “But only slave girls,” she wept, “have their ears pierced.” She wept. “How can I ever hope to become a Free Companion,” she wept. “What man would want a woman with the pierced ears of a slave girl? And if I were not veiled, anyone might look upon me, and laugh, and scorn me, seeing that my ears had been pierced, as those of a slave girl!”
Captive of Gor Book 7 Page 166
It also interested me, even astonished me, to see the fervor and skill brought to her training by the refined Lady Rena of Lydius. She knew that she had already, in effect, been purchased, but she did not know who her master might be. Since her ears had been pierced she was terrified that she might not please him. She trained with almost piteous ardor. She had been a free woman; she was now a female slave, the ease of whose life and whose fortunes would now depend entirely on her capacity to be pleasing to those who might capture or purchase her, those who would own her.
. . .
I now no longer moved as a free woman, even a beautiful one, of Earth. I now moved, and naturally, as what I was, uninhibited and shameless, taunting, catlike, insolent, a Gorean slave girl.
Captive of Gor Book 7 Page 175
Our training in the pens of Ko-ro-ba now began to move toward its conclusion.
Our bodies, superbly trained, even those of Inge and Ute, now became unmistakably those of slave girls. We had had into our bodies mysteries of movements of which even we, for the most part, were no longer aware, subtle signals of appetite, of passion and of obedience to a masculine touch, movements which excited the fierce jealousy, the hatred, of free women, particularly ignorant free women, who feared, and perhaps rightly, that their men might leave them for the purchase or capture of such a prize. Most slave girls, incidentally, fear free women greatly.
Captive of Gor Book 7 Page 196 – 197
It could perhaps be mentioned that such work, cooking, cleaning and laundering, and such, is commonly regarded as being beneath even free women, particularly those of high caste. In the high cylinders, in Gorean cities, there are often public slaves who tend the central kitchens in cylinders, care for the children, but may not instruct them, and, for a tiny fee to the city, clean compartments and do laundering. Thus even families who cannot afford to own and feed a slave often have the use of several such unfortunate girls, commonly captured from hostile cities. Free women often treat such girls with great cruelty, and the mere word of a free woman, that she is displeased with the girl’s work, is enough to have the girl beaten. The girls strive zealously in their work to please the free women. Such girls, also, have a low use-rent, payable to the city, should young males wish to partake of their pleasures. Here again, the mere word of the free person, that he is not completely pleased, is enough to earn the miserable girl a severe beating. Accordingly, she struggles to please him with all her might. It is not pleasant, I fear, to be a public slave. The Gorean free woman, often, does only what work she chooses. If she does not wish to prepare a meal, she and her companion may go to the public tables, or, should they wish, order a girl to bring them food from the central kitchens.
Captive of Gor Book 7 Page 317
Similarly the Gorean free woman does not seem appropriately suited to menial tasks. She is too free, too proud. It is difficult for a collared slave girl even to look into the eyes of such a person. Thus, who is to do such work? The answer seems obvious, that it will be done by the slaves. The small, light, unpleasant work will be done by the female slave; the large, heavy, unpleasant work by the draft animal, or the male slave. Why should free persons do such tasks? They have slaves for such work.
Captive of Gor Book 7 Page 318
“Will the Lady Tina of Lydius deign to face me?” asked the judge, using the courteous tones and terminology with which Gorean free women, often inordinately honored, are addressed.
Hunters of Gor Book 8 Page 49
Then he turned her about, and kissed her. She melted to him, her lips to his. I do not know how else to express it. I have never seen it in a free woman. I have seen it only in slave girls, at the lips of their masters.
Hunters of Gor Book 8 Page 69
There is a Gorean saying that free women, raised gently in the high cylinders, in their robes of concealment, unarmed, untrained in weapons, may, by the slaver, be plucked like flowers.
There is no such saying pertaining to panther girls.
Hunters of Gor Book 8 Page 118
“The document,” said Marlenus, “was not forged. Talena, by the permissions of Verna, and by way of Mira, Verna’s messenger, with whom I dealt, sued for her purchase, such not being the act of a free woman.”
Hunters of Gor Book 8 Page 143
The true slave girl knows that she is owned. This makes a difference in how she performs many tasks. Her body, in almost all of its movements, will betray her bondage. It is difficult for a free woman to imitate the actions of a slave girl. She does not know truly what it is to be slave. She has never been taught. She has not been slave. Similarly it is difficult for a slave girl to imitate the actions of a free woman. Knowing that she is, in actuality, owned, it is very difficult for her to act as though she were free. She is frightened to do so. Sometimes slavers use these differences to separate the two categories of Gorean females. Sometimes, when a city is being sacked, high-born free women, fearful of falling into the hands of chieftains of the enemy, have themselves branded and collared, and don slave tunics, and mix with their own slave girls, to prevent their identity from being known. Such high-born women may, by a practiced eye, be detected among true slave girls.
Hunters of Gor Book 8 Page 155
A free woman may go days or weeks without the touch of her companion. For a slave girl, who has learned her collar, this would be almost unspeakable misery.
Hunters of Gor Book 8 Page 235
“I found this slave in the forest,” said Verna. About her own neck she still wore Marlenus’ collar.
He looked at her. She looked at him fearlessly. As an unveiled free woman, not as a slave.
Hunters of Gor Book 8 Page 297
Goreans, in their simplistic fashion, often contend, categorically, that man is naturally free and woman is naturally slave. But even for them the issues are more complex than these simple formulations would suggest. For example, there is no higher person, nor one more respected, than the Gorean free woman. Even a slaver who has captured a free woman often treats her with great solicitude until she is branded.
Hunters of Gor Book 8 Page 311
“It is a wonder that any man will follow you!” cried Talena. “You betrayed your codes! You are a coward! A fool! You are not worthy of me! That you dare ask me if I could care for such as you, is to me, a free woman an insult! You chose slavery to death!”
Marauders of Gor Book 9 Page 14
Hilda, of course was a free woman. For her to heel was an incredible humiliation.
The Forkbeard started off again, and then again stopped. Again, Hilda followed him as before.
“She is heeling!” laughed Ottar.
There were tears of rage in Hilda’s eyes. What he said, of course, was true. She was heeling. On his ship the Forkbeard had taught her, though a free woman, to heel.
Marauders of Gor Book 9 Page 123
“How shameful!” said the free woman, sternly.
The slave girls groveled at her feet. Slave girls fear free women muchly. It is almost as if there were some unspoken war between them, almost as if they might be mortal enemies. In such a war, or such an enmity, of course, the slave girl is completely at the mercy of the free person; she is only slave. One of the great fears of a slave girl is that she will be sold to a woman. Free women treat their female slaves with incredible hatred and cruelty. Why this is I do not know. Some say it is because they, the free women, envy the girls their collars and wish that they, too, were collared, and at the complete mercy of masters.
Free women view the platform with stern disapproval; on it, female beauty is displayed for the inspection of men; this, for some reason, outrages them; perhaps they are furious because they cannot display their own beauty, or that they are not themselves as beautiful as women found fit, by lusty men with discerning eyes, for slavery; it is difficult to know what the truth is in such matters; these matters are further complicated, particularly in the north, by the conviction among free women that free women are above such things as sex, and that only low and loose girls, and slaves, are interested in such matters; free women of the north regard themselves as superior to sex; many are frigid, at least until carried off and collared; they often insist that, even when they have faces and figures that drive men wild, that it is their mind on which he must concentrate his attentions; some free men, to their misery, and the perhaps surprising irritation of the female, attempt to comply with this imperative; they are fools enough to believe what such women claim is the truth about themselves; they should listen instead to the dreams and fantasies of women, and recall, for their instruction, the responses of a free woman, once collared, squirming in the chains of a bond-maid. These teach us truths which many women dare not speak and which, by others, are denied, interestingly, with a most psychologically revealing hysteria and vehemence. “No woman,” it is said, “knows truly what she is until she has worn the collar.” Some free women apparently fear sex because they feel it lowers the woman. This is quite correct.
. . .
“Shameful!” cried the free woman.
. . .
“I do not approve of the platform,” said the free woman, coldly.
Forkbeard did not respond to her, but regarded her with great deference.
Marauders of Gor Book 9 Page 155 – 156
“Come tonight to our hall, Champion,” said she.
The Blue Tooth did not gainsay her. The woman of the Jarl had spoken. Free women in the north have much power. The Jarl’s Woman, in the Kaissa of the north, is a more powerful piece than the Ubara in the Kaissa of the south. This is not to deny that the Ubara in the south, in fact, exercises as much or more power than her northern counterpart. It is only to recognize that her power in the south is less explicitly acknowledged.
Marauders of Gor Book 9 Page 191
The girls, though collared in the manner of Torvaldsland, and serving men, were fully clothed. Their kirtles of white wool, smudged and stained with grease, fell to their ankles; they hurried about; they were barefoot; their arms, too, were bare; their hair was tied with strings behind their heads, to keep it free from sparks; their faces were, on the whole, dirty, smudged with dirt and grease; they were worked hard; Bera, I noted, kept much of an eye upon them; one girl, seized by a warrior, her waist held, his other hand sliding upward from her ankle beneath the single garment permitted her, the long, stained woolen kirtle, making her cry out with pleasure, dared to thrust her lips eagerly, furtively, to his; but she was seen by Bera; orders were given; by male thralls she was bound and, weeping, thrust to the kitchen, there to be stripped and beaten; I presumed that if Bera were not present the feast might have taken a different turn; her frigid, cold presence was, doubtless, not much welcomed by the men. But she was the woman of Svein Blue Tooth. I supposed, in time, normally, she would retire, doubtless taking Svein Blue Tooth with her. It would be then that the men might thrust back the tables and hand the bond-maids about. No Jarl I knew can hold men in his hall unless there are ample women for them. I felt sorry for Svein Blue Tooth. This night, however, it seemed Bera had no intention of retiring early.
Marauders of Gor Book 9 Page 195 – 196
“You have dared to collar the daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar!” cried Bera to Ivar Forkbeard.
“My master does what he pleases, Lady,” said Hilda.
I wondered what Bera would say if she knew that Hilda had been put at the oar, and taught to heel; that she had been whipped, and taught to obey; that she had been caressed, and taught to respond.
“Silence, Bond-maid!” cried Bera.
Hilda put down her head.
“To think,” cried Bera, “that I expressed solicitude for a collar-girl!”
Hilda dared not speak. For a bond-maid to speak in such a situation might be to invite a sentence of death. She shuddered.
In fury, Bera, lifting her skirt from about her ankles, took her way from the long table, retiring to her own quarters. Marauders of Gor Book 9 Page 200 – 201
The fixing of the Kur collar, it had been decided by Svein Blue Tooth, was equivalent to the fixing of the metal collar and, in itself, was sufficient to reduce the subject to slavery, which condition deprives the subject of legal status, and rights attached thereto, such as the right to stand in companionship. Accordingly, to her astonishment, Bera, who had been the companion of Svein Blue Tooth, discovered suddenly that she was only one wench among others. From a line, as part of his spoils, the Blue Tooth picked her out. She had displeased him mightily in recent years. Yet was the Blue Tooth fond of the arrogant wench. It was not until he had switched her, like any other girl, that she understood that their relationship had undergone a transformation, and that she was, truly, precisely what she seemed to be, now his bond-maid. No longer would her dour presence deprive his feasts of joy. No longer would she, in her free woman’s scorn, shower contempt on bond-maids, trying to make them ashamed of their beauty. She, too, now, was no more than they. She now had new tasks to which to address herself, cooking, and churning and carrying water; the improvement of her own carriage, and beauty and attractiveness; and the giving of inordinate pleasure in the furs to her master, Svein Blue Tooth, Jarl of Torvaldsland; if she did not do so, well she knew, as an imbonded wench, that others would; it was not, indeed, until her reduction to slavery that she realized, for the first time, how fine a male, how attractive and how powerful, was Svein Blue Tooth, whom she had for years taken for granted; seeing him objectively for the first time, from the perspective of a slave girl, who is nothing herself, and comparing him with other free men, she realized suddenly how mighty how splendid and magnificent he truly was. She set herself diligently to please him, in service and in pleasure, and, if he would permit it, in love. Bera went to the next man, to fill his cup with mead, from the heavy, hot tankard, gripped with cloth, which she carried. She was sweating. She was barefoot. The bond-maid was happy.
Marauders of Gor Book 9 Page 277 – 278
Whereas it commonly takes a third of an Ahn to arouse a free woman female slave is often responsive from almost the first touch of the master.
. . .
It is not unusual to give an entire day to sport with a female slave, something unthinkable with a free woman.
Marauders of Gor Book 9 Page 292
Women who have not been previously owned, like free women, for the most part, even if naked and collared, do not yet understand their sexuality. That can only be taught to them by a man, they helpless, in his power. An unowned girl, a free woman, thus, can never experience her full sexuality. A corollary to this, of course, is that a man who has never had an owned woman in his arms does not understand the full power of his manhood. Sexual heat, it might be mentioned, is looked upon in free women with mixed feelings; it is commanded, however, in a slave girl. Passion, it is thought, deprives the free woman to some extent of her freedom and important self-control; it is frowned upon because it makes her behave, to some extent, like a degraded female slave; free women, thus, to protect their honor and dignity, their freedom and personhood, their individuality, must fight passion; the slave girl, of course, is not entitled to this privilege; it is denied to her, both by her society and her master; while the free woman must remain cool and in control of herself, even in the arms of her companion, to avoid being truly “had,” the slave girl is permitted no such luxury; her control is in the hands of her master, and she must, upon the mere word of her master, surrender herself, writhing, to the humiliating heats of a degraded slave girl’s ecstasy. Only when a woman is owned can she be fully enjoyed.
Tribesmen of Gor Book 10 Page 17
When she does yield to the master, her guts half torn out with the love of him, then, of course, she is a more satisfactory slave. These indignities, of course, are not inflicted on free women. They are permitted to go through life with their eyes half closed, so to speak. In this way they can maintain their self-respect. Sometimes inert, esteemed Gorean free women cry out in rage, not understanding why their companions have forsaken them for the evening, to go to the paga tavern; there, of course, for the price of a cup of paga, he can get his hands on a silken, belled girl, a slave; the free woman must denounce her companion, crying out, for his lusts; too busy for this, however, are the sweet, dark-eyed, sensuous sluts of the paga tavern; they do not have time to denounce the lusts of their master’s customers; they are too busy serving and satisfying them. Tribesmen of Gor Book 10 Page 25
with assurance and power, to the depth and height of her mind and imagination she is taught; the slave girl experiences a paradox of freedom; the free woman is physically free, but miserable, fighting to be what she is not; the slave girl, physically in bondage, even to the collar, sometimes chains, is given no choice by men but to be totally and precisely what she is, slave; such women, the slave girls, interestingly, are almost always joyful and vital
Tribesmen of Gor Book 10 Page 43
Free women, in the Tahari, incidentally, usually, when out of their houses, also measure their stride. Some fasten their own ankles together with silken thongs. Some dare even the chain, though they retain its key.
Tribesmen of Gor Book 10 Page 45
She was becoming brazen, and shameless, as befits an article of property. She was now, permitting herself thoughts and dreams that might have scandalized a free woman, but were for her, only a slave, quite appropriate.
Tribesmen of Gor Book 10 Page 86
“Earrings,” I said to her, “by Gorean girls, are regarded as the ultimate degradation of a female, appropriate only in sensual slave girls, brazen, shameless wenches, pleased that men have forced them to wear them, and be beautiful.”
“Do free women on Gor not wear earrings?” asked Alyena.
“Never,” I said.
“Only slave girls?”
“Only the most degraded of slave girls,” I said.
Tribesmen of Gor Book 10 Page 138
“Let me sell myself!” she wept.
As a free woman she could do this, but, of course, she could not revoke the transaction for, after its completion, she would be only a slave.
Tribesmen of Gor Book 10 Page 146
When free women and slave girls are chained together, it is common to respect the distinction between them by chaining them somewhat differently; in this case the free girl’s hands were slave’s were fastened below her right leg; it is common for the slave to be placed under greater restraint, and more discomfort, than her free sister; this acknowledges the greater nobility of the free woman, and is a courtesy often extended to her, until she, too, is only a slave.
Tribesmen of Gor Book 10 Page 147
Beautiful slave girls, barefoot, bangled, in scandalously brief slave livery, well displaying their considerable charms, collared, hair free, flowing in the wind, vital, walking exhileratedly, were common on the high bridges of the city, extending between the numerous cylinder towers, whereas free women, sedate, dignified, restricted, in their confining robes of concealment, were discouraged from the use of such bridges.
. . .
I suspected, had to do with the attempt of cities to protect their free women who, in numbers, seldom fall to the enemy, unless the city itself should fall, and then, of course, they would find themselves, like slaves, under the victory torches, their clothing removed, completely, strapped on the pleasure racks of the conquerors, thereafter, in the morning following the victory feast, to be chained and branded. Men respected free women; they desired, fought for, sought and relished their female slaves.
Tribesmen of Gor Book 10 Page 149 – 150
She had been the proud free woman, sold at Two Scimitars, with Zina, the traitress. It was difficult now to see in this lascivious, delicious slave, who seemed born to the collar, the proud free woman whom Hassan had earlier captured, and who had been later sold at the Bakah oasis of Two Scimitars. Some Goreans maintain that all women are born to the collar, and require only to find that man strong enough to put it on them.
Tribesmen of Gor Book 10 Page 213
“There is a difference,” laughed Hassan, “between the pride of a free woman and the pride of the slave girl. The pride of a free woman is the pride of a woman who feels herself to be the equal of a man. The pride of the slave girl is the pride of the girl who knows that no other woman is the equal of herself.”
Tribesmen of Gor Book 10 Page 333
It was not as though she were a free woman whose anger might have significance, might even issue in actions or words, free from the reprisals of discipline.
Slave Girl of Gor Book 11 Page 85
“You cannot treat me badly,” I said. “You must treat me well.” I looked at him, boldly. “I have rights,” I said. “I am a free woman.”
Slave Girl of Gor Book 11 Page 92
Afterwards, it might be mentioned, they are usually pleased with the piercing of their ears, and grow quite proud of this erotic dimension added to their beauty; not displeased are they either with the lovely adornments which their master may now order them to fix upon their body; free women, it is no secret, in many respects, envy their enslaved sisters, their beauty, their joy, their attractiveness to men; this may explain why free women are often quite cruel to slave girls; most imbonded girls fear greatly that they might be purchased by one of the dreaded free women. I have wondered sometimes if free women on Gor might not be happier if their culture permitted them to be somewhat more like the slave girls they so heartily despise. It seems a small enough thing that a free woman might be culturally permitted to have her ears pierced and, thus, be permitted earrings. Would it make so muck difference? But the bonds of culture are strong. On Earth a free woman would not think of having herself branded, though it might improve her beauty; similarly, on Gor, a free woman would not consider having her ears pierced.
Slave Girl of Gor Book 11 Page 97
Some girls attempt to flee to the greenwood forests of the north. In such forests, in certain territories, there roam bands of free women, the lithe, ferocious Panther Girls of Gor, but these despise and hate women not of their own fierce ilk; in particular do they revile and hold in contempt girls, beauties, who have been slaves to men; should such a girl, fleeing enter the cool vastness of their green domain, she is commonly hunted down like a tabuk doe and cruelly captured; the forests are not for such as she; she is tethered and bound, and often lashed, then driven by switches helplessly to the shores of Thassa or the banks of the Laurius, and then sold back to men, usually for weapons or candy.
Slave Girl of Gor Book 11 Page 98
Perhaps an equal must resist a man, but I was not an equal; I was a slave girl! I belonged to men! I could be a biological woman, as perhaps a free woman could not. I could be a primitive female, an owned woman, as they could not. I could be a woman, as they could not. Slavery made me free to be a woman.
Slave Girl of Gor Book 11 Page 104
The veil, it might be noted, is not legally imperative for a free woman; it is rather a matter of modesty and custom. Some low-class, uncompanioned, free girls do not wear veils. Similarly certain bold free women neglect the veil. Neglect of the veil is not a crime in Gorean cities, though in some it is deemed a brazen and scandalous omission.
. . .
In some cities, and among some groups and tribes, it might be mentioned, though this is not common, veils may be for most practical purposes unknown, even among free women. The cities of Gor are numerous and pluralistic. Each has its own history, customs and traditions. On the whole, however, Gorean culture prescribes the veil for free women.
Slave Girl of Gor Book 11 Page 107 – 108
His collar, I had heard, was one of the most sought collars in Ar.
When he strode through the streets free women sometimes threw themselves before him, tearing away their veils and robes, begging for his collar.
Slave Girl of Gor Book 11 Page 155 – 156
The lust of Gorean males has much to do, doubtless, with the robes of concealment worn in most cities by Gorean free women. They would not wish the casual, inadvertent flirtation of an accidentally exposed ankle to lead to their hunt, capture and enslavement.
Slave Girl of Gor Book 11 Page 237
Free women are often cruel to beautiful female slaves. They put us under terrifying discipline. Perhaps they sense in us something of greater interest to men than themselves, something which constitutes to them a threat, something which is subtly competitive, and successfully so, to them. I do not know. Perhaps they fear us, or the slave in themselves. I do not know. Mostly I suspect the women were furious with me because I had been responsive to the touch of the auctioneer’s whip. Free women, desiring to yield, pride themselves on their capacity not to yield, to maintain their quality and integrity; slave girls, on the other hand, are not permitted such luxuries; they, whether they desire to yield or not, must yield, and totally; perhaps free women wish they did not have to be free, and could relate in biological naturalness, like the slave girl, to the dominant organism. Perhaps they wish they were slaves. I do not know. One thing is certain, and that is that there is a deep, psychological hostility on the part of the free woman for her sister in bondage, particularly if she be beautiful. Slave girls, accordingly, fear free women; slave girls want to be locked in the collars of men, not women.
Slave Girl of Gor Book 11 Page 291 – 192
She looked at me, not speaking. It seemed strange to me, later, that we, together, had spoken so. It was as though each of us desired to appear more frigid and less passionate than the other, as though the restriction or impairment of our natural sexuality were somehow desirable or meritorious. Women of Earth, I knew, sensitive to a heritage of insane values, of antibiological acculturation, sometimes competed with one another in their attempts to appear frigid, a competition which was often carried into the bedrooms of their husbands. Few wives, I knew, would dare to let themselves appear to their husbands as a hot, panting bitch. Slave girls, on the other hand, are given no choice.
“As a free woman,” she said, “I have had little opportunity to see a slave girl used.”
She looked at me, curious.
“Tellius,” she called. “Barus!”
The two men who had caught me entered the room.
The Lady Elicia indicated me to them. “Amuse yourselves with her,” he said.
“Have mercy on your slave!” I cried.
By the arms, I was thrown back on the tiles.
I wept, the tunic torn away from me, my body red and helpless, writhing on the tiles.
“Can there be more?” asked the Lady Elicia, amazed.
“She has not yet even experienced the first slave orgasm,” said Tellius, crouching beside me, looking up.
I turned my head from side to side, in misery. I looked up at him. I tried to lie still. But my body leaped to his touch. I cried out in misery.
“Is it soon?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Tellius, “note her breathing, the mottling of her skin, how she moves, her eyes.”
“Oh, please, Mistress, have mercy on me!” I wept. “Do not let them touch me further! Please, please, Mistress!”
Then I threw back my head and screamed. I clutched at Tellius. “You are my master!” I whispered, hoarsely. “You are my master!”
“Do not move,” he said.
“Oh, please, Master!” I wept
“You may now move,” he said.
I screamed and clutched at him, eyes closed, clawing at him, trying to bring our bodies closer. Then I threw back my head eyes wild, lips parted, and screamed, delivering my body to my master.
“It is the first of the slave orgasms,” said Tellius.
“I love you, Master!” I wept, clutching him. Gone now was the thought of the Lady Elicia. I, a slave girl, was in the arms of a Gorean male. I covered him with kisses and caresses, weeping. “Please touch your slave more, Master,” I begged.
“Little whore!” sneered the Lady Elicia.
“Touch me more, Master!” I begged.
“I knew you would be like this, even at the college,” she said. “Lovely Judy! A little whore!”
I licked at the hair on the upper arm of Tellius. “Please, Master,” I begged him.
“You are lower than a whore,” said the Lady Elicia. She looked down at me, in fury. “You are a slave girl!”
“I love you, Master,” I whispered to Tellius.
“Finish with her,” said the Lady Elicia, rising, angrily, from the curule chair. “And when you are done with her see that she is cleaned and groomed, and presented to me in a fresh tunic.”
“Yes, Lady,” said Tellius.
The Lady Elicia left the room.
Slave Girl of Gor Book 11 Page 311 - 312
The Lady Elicia, as I soon discovered, and had earlier suspected, despised and hated men. Yet, too, she found them, somehow, intensely fascinating and intriguing. Often she asked me questions which a slave girl might respond to intimately and easily if asked by another slave girl, but which were difficult to respond to if asked by a free woman. She would ask questions about the tethering and chaining of slaves, and their feelings, and what men made them do and how they were expected to speak and behave. She wanted to know intimate details of such things as what it was like to be a peasant’s girl and what men exacted of girls in a paga tavern. I tried to answer her honestly. She would profess rage and indignation. “Yes, Mistress,” I would murmur, putting my head down.
Slave Girl of Gor Book 11 Page 389 – 390
Sex in a woman is a very subtle and profound thing; she is capable of deep and sustained pleasures which might be the envy of any vital organism. These pleasures, of course, can be used by a man to make her a helpless prisoner and slave. Perhaps that is why free women guard themselves so sternly against them.
Beasts of Gor Book 12 Page 10
“What are you talking about?” she demanded. “Give me my clothing,” she demanded angrily.
Again the points of the two spears pressed against her abdomen. Again they penetrated the loosely woven cloth. Again she stepped back, for the moment disconcerted.
I gathered that she had been accustomed to having her demands met by men.
When a woman speaks in that tone of voice to a man of Earth he generally hastens to do her bidding. He has been conditioned so. Here, however, her proven Earth techniques seemed ineffectual, and this puzzled her, and angered her, and, I think, to an extent frightened her. What if men did not do her bidding? She was smaller and weaker, and beautiful and desirable. What if she discovered that it were she, and not they, who must do now what was bidden, and with perfection? A woman who spoke in that tone to a Gorean man, if she were not a free woman, would find herself instantly whipped to his feet.
Beasts of Gor Book 12 Page 25
I penetrated more deeply among the platforms. A girl, kneeling and naked, heavily chained, extended her hands to me. “Buy me, Master!” she begged. Then I had passed her and she was behind me. I saw two girls standing, back to back, the left wrist of each chained to the right wrist of the other. “Handsome master, consider me!” cried a girl as I passed her. Most of the girls knelt or sat on the platforms. All were secured in some fashion.
“Scandalous,” said a free woman, to another free woman, who was passing near me.
“Yes,” said the other free woman.
Beasts of Gor Book 12 Page 53 – 54
I gestured to the two girls with the free woman. One of them slightly lowered her veil.
“I will pay well for the use of one of these slaves,” I said to the free woman.
“They are my personal slaves,” she said.
“I will give a silver tarsk for the brief use of one, either that you might indicate,” I said.
The warriors looked at one another. The offer was quite generous. It was unlikely that either of the girls would bring so much on the block.
“No,” said the free woman, icily.
“Permit me then to buy one,” I said, “for a golden tarn.” The men looked at one another, the draft slaves, too. Such a coin would fetch from the block a beauty fit for the gardens of a Ubar.
“Stand aside,” said the free woman.
I inclined my head. “Very well, Lady,” said I. I moved to one side.
“I deem myself to have been insulted,” she said.
“Forgive me, Lady,” said I, “but such was not my intent. If I have done or said aught to convey that impression, however minutely, I extend to you now the deepest and most profound of apologies and regrets.”
I stepped back further, to permit the retinue to pass.
“I should have you beaten,” she said.
“I have greeted you in peace and friendship,” I said. I spoke quietly.
Beat him,” she said.
I caught the arm of the captain. His face turned white. “Have you raised your arm against me?” I asked.
I released his arm, and he staggered back. Then he slung his shield on his arm, and unsheathed the blade slung at his left hip.
“What is going on!” demanded the woman.
“Be silent, foolish woman,” said the captain.
She cried out with rage. But what did she know of the codes?
I met his attack, turning it, and he fell, shield loose, at my feet. I had not chosen to kill him.
“Aiii!” cried one of the draft slaves.
“Kill him! Kill him!” cried the free woman. The slave girls screamed.
Beasts of Gor Book 12 Page 114 – 115
The sexuality of a free woman is largely inert; the sexuality of a slave girl, on the other hand, has been deliberately and seriously activated.
. . .
The sexuality of the aroused slave girl is incomprehensible to the free woman. It is nothing she will ever understand. It is a color she cannot see, a sound she cannot hear.
Beasts of Gor Book 12 Page 225
“Frigidity is a neurotic luxury,” I told her. “It is allowed only to free woman, probably because no one cares that much about them. Indeed, frigidity is one of the titles and permissions implicated in the lofty status of a free woman. For many it is, in effect, their proudest possession. It distinguishes them from the lowly slave girl. It proves to themselves and others that they are free. Should they be enslaved, of course, it is, for better or for worse, taken from them, like their property and their clothing.”
“Not all free women are frigid,” she said.
“Of course not,” I said, “but there is actually a scale, so to speak, in such matters. But just as some free women are insufficiently inert, or cold, to qualify, strictly, as frigid, perhaps to their chagrin, so none of them, I think, are sufficiently ignited to qualify in the ranges of “slave-girl hot,” so to speak. A free woman’s sexuality may generally be thought of in terms of degrees of inertness, or coolness; a slave girl’s sexuality, on the other hand, may generally be thought of in terms of degrees of responsive passion, or heat. Some slave girls are hotter than others, of course, just as some free women are less cold than others, whether this pleases them or not. Whereas the free woman normally maintains a plateau of frigidity, however, the slave girl will usually increase in degrees of heat, this a function of her master, his strength, her training, and such. The slave girl grows in passion; the free woman languishes in her frigidity, congratulating herself on the starvation of her needs.”
“Do free women know what they are missing?” she asked.
“I think, on some level, they do,” I said. “Else the resentment and hatred they bear the slave girl would be inexplicable.”
“I see,” she said.
“Beware the free woman,” I said.
“Yes, Master,” she said. Beasts of Gor Book 12 Page 243 – 244
“Is there no cure for a free woman’s frigidity?” she asked.
“Of course,” I said.
“Total enslavement?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said.
She said nothing.
“Every woman has a need to submit herself to a master,” I said. “When she finds herself at the feet of her master her body will no longer permit her to be frigid. There is no longer any reason. She is now where nature places her, at his feet and in his power. She kisses his feet and, weeping, feeling the heat and oils between her lovely legs, cannot wait to be thrown to the furs.”
She did not speak.
“But I do not speak here merely of the simplicities and negativities of a cure,” I said. “I speak rather of the beginning of a career, a helpless, flowering biography of service, love and passion.”
“You speak of a woman being made a slave girl,” she said.
“Yes,” I said.
“I wonder if I will be pleasing to a master,” she said.
“Any slave girl,” I said, “with the proper management, and master, can become a wonder of sexuality and love.”
“I think I will love being a slave girl,” she said.
I shrugged. What did it matter, what her feelings were? She was a slave.
“No wonder the free women hate us so,” she said.
“Of course,” I said. “You are everything that they desire to be and are not.”
She bit her lip. She looked at me. “Are free women permitted to watch us being sold?”
“Of course,” I said. “Why not? They are free.”
She looked at me, miserably.
“Ah, yes,” I said. “I see. It would be quite humiliating, one woman, a slave, being sold, while another woman, a free woman, observes.”
“Yes,” she said.
Beasts of Gor Book 12 Page 245
“Do you find me of interest, Master?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“How can a girl who is only a slave be of interest?” she asked.
“Your question is foolish,” I said. “All men desire a slave, or slaves. It is their nature. Thus, that a woman is a slave, even in itself, makes her extraordinarily interesting. Her slavery in itself, apart from her intelligence or beauty, is found extremely provocative and exciting to the male, because of his nature.”
“But aren’t free women more interesting?” she asked.
“All women are interesting,” I said. “But consider the matter objectively. Anything that was interesting about you when you were free remains interesting about you now. But now you are additionally interesting because you are in helpless bondage. Too, slavery, because of its relation to a female’s genetic predispositions, tends to free her to be herself, rather than an imitator of male-type values. It frees her individuality by liberating her from the necessities of pretense. Too, slavery, by removing certain inhibitions and demands alien to a female’s deepest nature generally results in an increase in her beauty and energy; she is no longer as constricted and miserable, and needs no longer spend energy fighting to suppress herself and her natural desires, surely a grotesque and pathological misapplication of effort, a tragic waste of time and energy. That the girl, thus, becomes more beautiful and energetic does not, of course, diminish her interest. Indeed, similarity, routine, identity, boredom, those things which tend to make a woman less interesting, tend often to be functions of widespread conformances to externally imposed demands and images. It is thus that the free woman, though interesting, being female, is usually, sadly, a bound prisoner of her own prejudices, a rigid, constricted, ideologically restrained organism, an imitator of images and stereotypes alien to her own nature, a puppet obedient to principles foreign to herself. How can a woman be free until she obeys the laws of her own nature?”
“I do not know,” said Arlene.
“Interest, of course, is somewhat subjective,” I admitted. “Some men may prefer neurotic, frustrated, rigid, imitative, conforming free women, mouthing the correct slogans and adopting the correct views on all matters, and eager to slander all who disagree with her, but other men, perhaps naive types, would just as soon own an intelligent, beautiful, reflective, loving slave, a girl who thinks for herself, but must nonetheless obey him, regardless of her will, in all things. The matter seems a simple one. Let men choose between such women. Let men choose between them, between the stereotype and the truth, between the pain and the pleasure, between the unhappy and the happy, between the tasteless and the delicious, between sickness and health, between suffering and joy.”
She looked up at me.
“But regardless of the truth in these matters,” I said, “you are objectively my slave. Thus, whether you are or are not of interest is not really much to the point. Whether you are of more or less interest than your duller sisters in their intellectual cages congratulating themselves on how free they are is not important. What is important is that I own you. From my point of view I find you, and girls like you, far more interesting than your smug sisters. They seem generally much alike, even in their mode of dress, and tend in their thinking and conversation, because of their conditioning, to be repetitiously similar. Free women, though they need not be, are often boring. Who does not know, for example, what a female ‘intellectual’ will think on a given topic, provided it is a topic on which agreement is expected?”
“I am, then, of interest?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“A girl is pleased,” she said.
“I found you of interest when you were free,” I said, “and I find you of much greater interest now.”
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Part of this,” I said, “is doubtless that I now can, and will, do with you exactly as I please.”
“Oh, Master?” she asked.
“There is a sense, of course,” I said, “in which you are supposedly of less interest than a free woman.”
“What is that,” she asked, “Master.”
“Suppose,” I said, “that I was, in my compartments, entertaining a free woman. In such a situation you would be expected to efface yourself, and humbly serve. You would not speak unless you were spoken to, and then presumably only to respond deferentially to commands. You would remain in the background, a mere instrument to serve us. In no way would you in the slightest be permitted to detract from the impression or effect the free woman desires to create or compete with her in any way. You would be nothing in the room but an almost invisible convenience.”
“I see,” she said.
“And yet this is all on the surface,” I said, “and largely a matter of theory.”
“Oh, Master?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said, “for in the depth of the situation your presence is felt profoundly by the free woman. Indeed, she will hate you with a ferocity which is difficult for you to understand. For you are a reproach, in the depths of your womanhood, to her superficiality. There is more excitement she knows in your slightest movement, the turning of your head, the tiny movement of a wrist or finger, that of a girl in bondage, than in her entire, tight, proud, righteous body. She can never touch you in the profundity of your existence and reality unless sometime she, too, should learn what it is to be only a collared slave. She knows that you have found your womanhood and she has not. Thus she hates you. She knows the free man is anxious for her to leave, that he may hurry you, his slave, to the furs. Thus she hates you. It is you whom he has put in his collar, not her. It is you he rapes in his arms, not her. It is thus that she despises and hates you. She must rise and leave. You will remain, and serve. She hates you, and, with a depth and intensity which is difficult for you to understand, envies you.”
“But why?” she asked.
“Because you are a slave,” I said.
“I see,” she said.
“Thus,” I said, “that is a situation in which a free woman is theoretically of more interest than a slave, but, upon closer analysis, the center of interest, even in such a situation, because of her latency, her womanhood, her helplessness, what can be done with her, is the slave.”
“I see,” she said.
“Beware of free woman,” I smiled.
“Yes,” she said, “I think I would be very afraid of them.”
“And you should be,” I said. “They can often be terribly cruel to slave girls.”
“I do fear them,” she said.
Beasts of Gor Book 12 Page 274 - 277
“A slave should be proud of her heat,” I said. “You are not a free woman, permitted to be smug in the icy conceit of her frigidity.” Beasts of Gor Book 12 Page 278
“Love is found more often among slave girls than free women,” I said. “If you would learn love, learn slavery.” Beasts of Gor Book 12 Page 310
“So do not be surprised, in your servitude,” I said, “that you find men strong. Simply to look upon you, a beautiful slave, will commonly be enough to stimulate their lust. You are no longer a free woman, filled with her rigidities and negativities, for whom it is permissible to be irritating and boring. No. You are a lovely slave. Looking upon you men will want you. They will want to buy you. They will want to own you.”
Beasts of Gor Book 12 Page 315
“No,” she said, “I would not like to be returned to Earth. I have never been so sensuously alive as here, at the mercy of men. I pity even the free women of this world, who cannot know the joys and loves of the female slave. I do not wish to return to Earth, to adopt again the role of pretending to be a man. What has Earth to offer that is worth more than joy and happiness?”
Beasts of Gor Book 12 Page 434
I went to the rear of the come line and took the last girl on the line gently in my arms. I put my lips, gently, to hers. They were cool, in the cold night. Yet beneath mine they yielded, as a slave’s. Already had she who had been the Lady Rosa learned much. There is a difference between the kiss of the free woman and the kiss of the slave girl; the slave girl yields to her master; the difference is unmistakable. It is said that he whose lips have never touched those of a slave girl does not know, truly, what it is to hold a woman in his arms.
Beasts of Gor Book 12 Page 438
Gorean free women, of course, may do what they wish. The slave girl, on the other hand, does not compete with the master, but serves him.
Explorers of Gor Book 13 Page 39
The female slave, in the fullness of her womanhood, and helplessness, attains heights of passion from which the free woman, in her pride and dignity, is forever barred. She is not a man’s slave.
Explorers of Gor Book 13 Page 41
Frigidity is accepted by Goreans only in free women. Slave fires, of course, lurk in every woman. It is only a question of arousing them.
Explorers of Gor Book 13 Page 47
“As a free woman,” she said, “sometimes, late at night, or in my dreams, I had dimly sensed what might be the sexuality of the slave girl, but I had never remotely understood it could be anything like that, anything so overwhelming, so helpless, so total.”
. . .
“After a woman has felt anything like that,” she said, “how could she ever go back to being free?”
“Not many would receive the opportunity,” I told her.
She laughed. It was true. Gorean men, on the whole, do not free slaves. The freeing of a girl is almost unheard of. This makes sense. They are not free women. They are belongings, valuables, slaves, treasures. Who discards precious possessions, who surrenders treasures? If the slave girl were worth less perhaps she would be freed more. She is too marvelous to free; and if she is not marvelous, she can be slain. Too, what man who has known the glory and joy of a girl at his feet is likely to wish to exchange that for the inconvenience and bother of a free woman?
Explorers of Gor Book 13 Page 89 – 90
Then she stumbled against a free woman, who, in fury, screamed at her, and began to strike and kick at her.
She fell to her knees, and put her head down. “Forgive me, Mistress!” she begged. “Forgive me!”
The free woman, angrily, continued on her way.
Explorers of Gor Book 13 Page 131
“Do you think free women could have felt what you felt?” I asked.
“Never,” she said, “for they are not slaves.” She looked up at me. “What I felt were the feelings of a slave in the arms of her master. Those are feelings no free woman will ever know.”
“Unless she is put in bondage,” I said.
“Yes, Master,” she smiled. Then she said, “How I pity them, those poor free woman, such as I was. How ignorant they are. No wonder they are so hostile to men. Would not any woman hate a man who did not have the strength to put her in a collar?”
Explorers of Gor Book 13 Page 179
“Surely free women, too, have emotions,” I said.
“I was free,” she said. “I did not know what it was to feel until I became a slave. I was free. There was no need to feel, or be aware. But this has changed since I became a slave. I must now be sensitive to the feelings of others. I have never been so aware of other human beings as now. And I cannot always have my way, and I must yield to male domination. I can be commanded, and I must obey, and be pleasing. This answers to something very deep in me, Master.”
Explorers of Gor Book 13 Page 188
“You will be punished for femininity on this world,” I told her, “only by free women.”
Explorers of Gor Book 13 Page 204
The slave girl moves, and carries herself, differently from a free woman. This is evident in such small things as fetching a cup for her master or in pouring his wine. These movements, and bodily attitudes and postures, subtle and beautiful, difficult to fully disguise, have betrayed more than one slave beauty who, disguised as a free woman, has sought to flee a city.
Explorers of Gor Book 13 Page 318
“The slave girl must honestly expose her needs,” I said. “The hypocrisy of the free woman, her concealment, her subterfuges, her lies, are not permitted to the female slave.”
Explorers of Gor Book 13 Page 328
“Have her put her arms over her head, wrists back to back,” said Ayari.
. . .
No free woman, for example, would dare to place herself in such a position before Gorean free men, unless perhaps, weary of her misery and frustration, she was begging them, almost explicitly, to put her in a collar. There are many stories of Gorean free women, sometimes of high caste, who, as a lark or in a spirit of bold play, dared to dance in a paga tavern. Often, perhaps to their horror, they found themselves that very night hooded and gagged, locked in close chains, lying on their back, their legs drawn up, fastened in a wagon, chained by the neck and ankles, their small bodies bruised on its rough boards as they, helpless beneath a rough tarn blanket, are carried through the gates of their city.
Explorers of Gor Book 13 Page 342
“It is a common property of human beings,” I said, “that they, for better or for worse, do not pay much attention to the thoughts and feelings of others. Thus, it would not be surprising if most men did not pay much attention to the thoughts and feelings of women. If it is any consolation, they do not pay much attention to the thoughts and feelings of other men either. Similar remarks, of course, hold for women. Many women, for example, are excellent in not listening to others. No one sex has a monopoly on dogmatism.” I looked at her. “If you are interested in this sort of thing from the Gorean viewpoint,” I said, “free men and women are usually attentive to the thoughts and feelings of one another. Not only are they free, but they may even share a Home Stone. Free women, in being free, command attention when they speak. It is their due. Explorers of Gor Book 13 Page 353 – 354
“I had not known such sensations could exist,” she had said.
“They are attainable only by the slave,” I told her. “They are the surrender and submission spasms of the owned woman, the girl who must yield absolutely and totally, holding nothing back, to her master.”
Explorers of Gor Book 13 Page 364 – 365
“Yes, Master,” she said. A free woman’s name, of course, tends to remain constant. A Gorean free woman does not change her name in the ceremony of the Free Companionship. She remains who she was. In such a ceremony two free individuals have elected to become companions. The Earth woman, as a consequence of certain mating ceremonials, may change her last name. The first and other names, however, tend to remain constant. From the Gorean point of view the wife of Earth occupies a status which is higher than that of the slave but lower than that of the Free Companion.
Explorers of Gor Book 13 Page 365
“I was terribly angry,” she said. “‘Never have I been so insulted!’ I said to him. ‘I hate you!’ I cried. He smiled at me. ‘Being troublesome and displeasing is acceptable in a free woman,’ he said. ‘Be troublesome and displeasing while you may. It will not be permitted to you later.’
Fighting Slave of Gor Book 14 Page 20
“I do not need permission to speak,” she cried. “I am a free woman! I am not a slave!”
Fighting Slave of Gor Book 14 Page 38
“Yes,” she said. “They are stinking, meaningless, lascivious little sluts who have been as slaves in the arms of Gorean men. It has spoiled them for freedom. They are worthless, sensuous little beasts whose passions Gorean men have seen fit, as cruel masters, to ignite. Their sexuality, their shamelessness, their needs, their helplessness, makes them an insult to free women.
Fighting Slave of Gor Book 14 Page 63
Lola fled to the Lady Gina and knelt before her, putting her head to the floor. Lola, I saw, was terrified to be in the presence of the free women. I realized then, as I had not before, something of the loathing and hatred with which the enslaved female is regarded by her free sisters.
. . .
She did not, after all, wish to writhe beneath their whips, the lashed object of the fury and contempt of free women, jealous perhaps of the helplessness of the slave girl before men, her beauty and her collar.
Fighting Slave of Gor Book 14 Page 83 – 84
Lola looked up at me, tears in her eyes. Slavery, I suddenly suspected, releases femaleness in the woman. I did not suppose that Gorean free women could have brought themselves to this pitch of exposure, vulnerability and excitement, which was perhaps not unusual for a slave girl. The major difference then, I suspected, lay not so much between the Gorean woman and the Earth woman, but between the free woman and the slave.
Fighting Slave of Gor Book 14 Page 101
“Are you a pretty one?” I heard. A woman’s voice had spoken. I looked up, through the perforations.
“I can see very little of him,” said another voice, also that of a woman. Two free women, veiled and in robes, stood near the slave box. They had market baskets on their arms.
“Are you pretty?” I heard.
“I do not know, Mistress,” I said.
She laughed.
“For what market are you bound?” asked the other woman.
“The market of Tima,” I said.
They looked at one another and laughed. “I’ll bet you are a pretty one!” said one of the women.
“My companion would not even let me have a pet like you,” said the other.
“Are you quite tame?” asked the first woman.
“Yes, Mistress,” I said.
“He probably is,” said the second woman. “The market of Tima is famous for her tamed slaves.”
I did not tell them that I came from a world in which almost all the males were perfectly tamed, indeed, a world in which males were supposed to pride themselves on their inoffensiveness and agreeability.
“I do not trust Kajiri,” said the first woman. “They can revert. Can you imagine how fearful that might be, if one turned on you?”
The second one shuddered, but I thought with pleasure. “Yes,” she said.
“Consider your danger, and what they might make you do,” said the first.
“Yes,” said the second.
“They might treat you as though you were little better than a slave.”
“Or perhaps as only a slave,” said the second.
“How horrifying that would be,” said the first.
“Yes,” said the second, but it seemed to me that she, beneath her robes and veil, shuddered again with pleasure.
“But if the Mistress is strong,” said the first, “what has she to fear?”
“One who is stronger than she,” said the second.
“I am stronger than any man,” said the first.
“But what if you should meet your Master?” asked the second.
The first one was silent then for a moment. Then she spoke. “I would love him and serve him, helplessly,” she said.
“Beautiful Mistresses,” I said, “can you tell me in what city I am?”
“Be silent, Slave,” said the first woman.
“Yes, Mistress,” I said.
“Curiosity is not becoming in a Kajirus,” said the second.
“Yes, Mistress,” I said. “Forgive me, Mistresses.”
Fighting Slave of Gor Book 14 Page 123 - 124
I could already begin to feel the wine. I was still half on my elbows. “What are you going to do to me?” I asked.
“Treat you as what you are,” she said, “a man of Earth, a weakling, at the mercy of a Gorean free woman.”
I regarded her, frightened.
“Lie back, pretty Jason,” she said. I lay back. The furs were deep about me. I felt the inflexible clasp of the steel on my ankles and wrists.
Then suddenly, lightly, like a cat, she slipped onto the couch beside me.
“I do not understand,” I said. “What are you going to do with me?”
“Own you,” she whispered. “Use you for my pleasure.”
I looked at her with horror.
She smiled and then thrust the whip, crosswise, in my mouth, between my teeth.
She then aroused, and raped me.
Fighting Slave of Gor Book 14 Page 132
I knew, of course, what she looked like naked, for I was her silk slave. Free women think as little of concealing their bodies before their silk slaves as the women of Earth would before their pet dogs.
Fighting Slave of Gor Book 14 Page 180
“Do you still think your Mistress should be a slave girl?” she asked.
“Yes, Mistress,” I said, through gritted teeth.
“Why?” she demanded.
“Because you are exciting and beautiful,” I said.
“Flattering slave!” she laughed.
I did not speak.
“But I am exciting and beautiful as a free woman,” she said.
“It is true, Mistress,” I said. “But the excitement and beauty of a free woman is as nothing compared to the excitement and beauty of a slave girl.”
“Beast!” she laughed. But I think she knew that it was true.
Fighting Slave of Gor Book 14 Page 206
“If you would improve your situation somewhat,” he said, “I recommend that you learn the arts of the slave girl, and practice them with diligence.”
“That would only improve my situation somewhat?” she asked, puzzled.
“Yes,” he said, “for you would still be free, and no free woman, because she is free, can truly compete for the attention and affection of a man as can a slave girl.”
“Why?” she asked.
“I do not know,” said Turbus Veminius. “Perhaps it is simply because the slave girl is a slave girl, truly, and is owned.” Fighting Slave of Gor Book 14 Page 217
Like many Gorean women, she did not use cosmetics. Free women in Ar commonly use cosmetics, but, outside of Ar, usually it is only the bolder women who resort to them. My Mistress, for example, did not use cosmetics either. Many free women regard cosmetics as only for slave girls.
Fighting Slave of Gor Book 14 Page 224
She wore a full, beige skirt, the hem of which fell to within some six inches of the ground, and slim, high, black-leather boots; a beige blouse, and a beige jacket, belted, which fell to her thighs; too, she wore a loose hood, attached to the jacket by hooks, of matching beige material, and an opaque veil, also of beige material. Such garments, far less formal than the common attire of the Gorean free woman, are sometimes worn by rich women in the supervision and inspection of certain sorts of holdings, such as orchards, fields, ranches and vineyards. They constitute, for such women, so to speak, a habit for work.
Fighting Slave of Gor Book 14 Page 232
Frigidity is a neurotic luxury which Goreans do not see fit to indulge in female slaves. It is permitted only to free women. Fighting Slave of Gor Book 14 Page 243
All then drank, save the Lady Florence, who, smiling, did not lift her cup. Free women, drinking, commonly lift their veil, or veils, with the left hand. Low-caste free women, if veiled, usually do the same. Sometimes, however, particularly if in public, they will drink through their veil, or veils. Sometimes, of course, free women will drink unveiled, even with guests. Much depends on how well the individuals are known, and who is present. In their homes, of course, with only members of their families present, or servants and slaves, most free women do not veil themselves, even those of high caste. Fighting Slave of Gor Book 14 Page 276
“Back! Back!” they cried. “Back, you collared she-sleen!” they cried to the slave girls, drawing their whips. And the leather of their whips, to cries of dismay and pain, fell liberally on the half-stripped bodies of the imbonded beauties. Even free women among them cried out in misery, struck. Then the women, bond and free, fell back, crying and frightened, for all women, whether slave or free, understand the whip.
Fighting Slave of Gor Book 14 Page 324
“No,” she said. “No!” She regarded me, in fury. “Can you not simply look upon me and see that I am free?”
“Perhaps if I saw you in the robes of concealment, and veiled, being carried in a palanquin through the streets of Vonda by slaves,” I said, “I would think you free.”
“It has nothing to do with such things!” she said. “Free women are different from slave girls. They are simply different! Free woman are noble and fine! Slave girls are only meaningless, lascivious, sensuous, little sluts!”
Fighting Slave of Gor Book 14 Page 349 – 350
“I fear,” she said, “that I will never be able to make the transition between a free woman and a slave.”
I laughed at her, and she looked up, angrily.
“There is in actuality no transition for you to make,” I told her.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because you are a woman,” I told her.
Fighting Slave of Gor Book 14 Page 366
“Men seeing you will want you in their collar,” I said. “They will pay high to take you from the block. As a free woman you are extremely beautiful. As a slave you will be a thousand times more beautiful.”
Fighting Slave of Gor Book 14 Page 377
“What you have done to me,” she said, “is irreversible. I can never go back, now, knowing what I do, to being a proud free woman.”
Rouge of Gor Book 15 Page 34
“I am a free woman of Vonda!” the woman at the counter had been crying out last night. “You cannot put me out!” “You will pay or be ejected,” Strobius had told her.
“You cannot put me out into the street!” she said. I had taken another sip of the sul porridge.
The woman at the counter had been veiled, as is common with Gorean women, particularly those of high caste and of the high cities. Many Gorean women, in their haughtiness and pride, do not choose to have their features exposed to the common view. They are too fine and noble to he looked upon by the casual rabble. Similarly the robes of concealment worn by many Gorean women are doubtless dictated by similar sentiments. On the other hand veiling is a not impractical modesty in a culture in which capture, and the chain and the whip are not unknown. One justification for the veiling and for the robes of concealment, which is not regarded as inconsiderable, is that it is supposed to provide something of a protection against abduction and predation. Who would wish to risk his life, it is said, to carry off a woman who might, when roped to a tree and stripped, turn out to be as ugly as a tharlarion? Slave girls, by contrast, are almost never permitted veils. Similarly they are usually clad in such a way that their charms are manifest and obvious to even the casual onlooker. This, aside from having such utilities as reminding the girls that they are total slaves and giving pleasure to the men who look upon them, is supposed to make them, rather than free women, the desiderated objects of capture and rapine. I think there is something to this theory for, statistically, it is almost always the female slave and not her free sister who finds herself abducted and struggling in the lashings of captors or slavers. On the other hand, in spite of the theories pertaining to such matters, free women are certainly not immune to the fates of capture and enslavement Many men, despite the theories pertaining to such matters, and accepting the risks involved, enjoy taking them. Some slavers specialize in the capture of free women. Indeed, it is thought by some, perhaps largely because of the additional risks involved, and the interest in seeing what one has caught, that there is a special spice and flavor about taking them. Similarly it is said to be pleasant, if one has the time and patience, first to their horror and then to their joy, training them to the collar.
“You cannot put me out into the street!” had cried the free woman.
“I can,” he informed her soberly.
“I am a free woman of Vonda,” she said, “a member of the Confederation.”
“I am an innkeeper,” said he. “My politics are those of the ledger and silver.”
Rouge of Gor Book 15 Page 41 – 42
“Your duties in this house, Lola,” I told her, “will be numerous and complex. In particular, you will be a house slave. You will dust and clean the house, and keep it neat. You will mend and sew. You will wash and iron clothing. You will shop, and cook and serve. All manners of domestic tasks, trivial and servile, unfit for free women, will be yours.”
Rouge of Gor Book 15 Page 130
“I am a free woman,” she said. “Do you find slaves more interesting than I?”
“Of course,” I said.
“Why?” she asked.
“For one thing,” I said, “they are owned.”
“That makes them fascinating, doesn’t it?” she said, bitterly.
“Yes,” I said.
“And doubtless,” she said, angrily, “they do not have the inhibitions and frigidities of their free sisters!”
“They are not permitted them,” I admitted.
“I hate female slaves,” she said.
I shrugged.
“Why are they preferred over free women?” she asked.
“Because they are slaves,” I said.
“What are the differences?” she asked.
“There are thousands,” I said. “Perhaps, most simply, the female slave is submitted to men. This makes her the most total of women.”
“Disgusting,” she said.
“Perhaps,” I said.
Rouge of Gor Book 15 Page 151
To the Gorean free woman the joys of the slave girl, though they may be despised and disparaged, are at least culturally not unknown, and are the envy of such free women. To the Earth woman, on the other hand, who finds herself in the collar of a Gorean master, such joys come as a revelation. Only in her wildest and most secret dreams had she dared even to suspect their existence. Then she finds herself a slave girl.
Rouge of Gor Book 15 Page 208
It is said on Gor that the garments of a free woman are designed to conceal a woman’s slavery, whereas the accouterments and garments of a slave, such as the brand and collar, the tunic or Ta-Teera, are made to reveal it.
Rouge of Gor Book 15 Page 276
The presence of a free woman on a ship, incidentally, causes some Gorean sailors uneasiness. Indeed, some, superstitiously, and mistakenly, in my opinion, regard them as harbingers of ill fortune. This is probably, from the objective point of view, a function of the dissension such a woman may produce, particularly on long voyages, and of the alterations in seamanship and conduct which can be attendant upon her presence on shipboard. For example, knowing that a free woman is on board, and must be accommodated and protected, can adversely, whether it should or not, affect the decisions of a captain. He might put into shore when it would be best to remain at sea; he might run when he should fight; when he should be firm, he might vacillate; when he should be strong, he might be conciliatory and weak.
Guardsman of Gor Book 16 Page 61
For example, although one may see a girl in the streets, naked save for, say, her brand and collar, or a bit of chain, this is not common. This sort of thing is done, usually, only as a discipline. Free women tend to object, for the eyes of their companions tend almost inadvertently to stray to the exposed flesh of such girls. Perhaps, too, they are angry that they themselves are not permitted to present themselves so brazenly and lusciously before men. Needless to say it is difficult for men to keep their minds on business when such girls are among them. Perhaps this is the reason that magistrates tend to frown upon the practice. After all, Goreans are only human.
Guardsman of Gor Book 16 Page 106
“Too,” said I, “tie shut your tunic. Free women may soon be about. We must not scandalize them.”
Guardsman of Gor Book 16 Page 168
The girl who was serving as the small brunet’s keeper withdrew from the chest, and shook out, a flimsy, tiny, diaphanous snatch of yellow pleasure silk. It was the sort of garment which, commonly, would be worn only by the most lascivious of dancing slaves writhing before strong, rude men in the lowest taverns on Gor. Free women had been known to faint at the sight, or touch, of such cloth. In many cities it is a crime to bring such cloth into contact with the flesh of free women. It is just too exciting, and sensuous.
Guardsman of Gor Book 16 Page 173
The unauthorized rape of slave girls, without the permission of their masters, is officially frowned on in most cities, but, too, it is as often winked at.
There are thought to be two major advantages to the custom of permitting, and, sometimes, of even encouraging, the practice. First, it provides a way of satisfying the sexual needs of young men who may not yet own their own girls, and, secondly, it is thought to provide a useful protection for free women. Free women, incidentally, are almost never raped on Gor, unless it be perhaps a preparatory lesson proceeding their total enslavement.
There seem to be two major reasons why free women are seldom raped on Gor. First, it is thought that they, being free, are to be accorded the highest respect, and, secondly, slave females are regarded as being much more desirable.
Guardsman of Gor Book 16 Page 184
Two children, however, one boy and one girl, did run and strike the slave. She started, and squirmed, on my shoulder under the blows.
I did not admonish the children. First, it was nothing to me that they had struck her, for she was a slave. Secondly, they were free persons, and free persons on Gor may do much what they please. It is slaves who must be careful of their behavior, lest free persons find it displeasing. The boy who had struck her, I believe, had been in a fit of ill temper. I think he had just lost at stone toss.
The girl, on the other hand, I think, had had far different motivations. She had not been involved in the game, but had only been watching it. Yet she had struck the slave by far the cruelest blow. Already she had learned, as a free woman, that female slaves are to be despised and beaten. The hatred of the free woman on Gor for the female slave is an interesting phenomenon. There are probably many reasons for this.
Among them, however, would seem to be a jealousy of the female slave’s desirability and beauty, a resentment of the interest of free men in imbonded women, and an envy of the slave girl’s psychological and biological fulfillments, and emotional freedom and joy. Something of the same hatred and contempt tends to be felt by masculine women on Earth towards feminine women. Perhaps they hate what they are not, and perhaps cannot be. The Gorean slave girl, incidentally, can be terrorized by the mere thought that she might be sold to a free woman. I glanced at the girl who had struck the slave. She was comely. I wondered if she might one day fall slave. If so, she, too, in her turn, would surely learn to fear free women.
Guardsman of Gor Book 16 Page 197 – 198
The former Miss Henderson, of course, had been in this house before. This was, however, the first time she had been brought into it as a slave. The slave girl, of course, sees a house much differently than does a free woman. Most simply she sees it as a house, and knows it, as a house in which she is a slave, whereas the free woman sees it and knows it as a house in which she is free. The houses are, accordingly, experienced quite differently. The free woman looks into a slave kennel but she, presumably, has never occupied it, the helpless prisoner behind its bars; the free woman may see chains but she, presumably, has never worn them; she may see the whip but she, presumably, has never felt it. She sees the door, a device by means of which she gains access to her dwelling, but can it have the same meaning to her as to one who has been helplessly carried through it, as a slave? Similarly, the free woman passes through that door whenever she wishes. She does not give it a second thought. It is only a door. To the slave, on the other hand, it is the portal to her master’s house. It is, thus, a significant border in her world. Commonly, if the master is home, and she is not under orders, as in, say, running an errand, or conducting regular business, such as shopping or gardening, she must, on her knees, beg his permission to leave the house, usually specifying her itinerary and when she expects to return.
Similarly a free woman may look upon a wall and see there merely the side of a room, but the slave girl may see there an obdurate barrier, beyond which she cannot run, against which she could be thrown and stripped, a barrier at the foot of which, crouching in terror, she would have to await the pleasure of her master. The free woman may look upon the smooth tiles flooring a room but, presumably, she has never felt them on her naked flesh, on her belly, as she has kissed the feet of her master. Too, presumably, she will never have been beaten upon them, or forced, as a discipline, to clean them, prone, her hands bound behind her, a small brush held in her teeth. The free woman looks upon a stairwell. She sees a stairwell. The slave girl may also see a place where she, if her master wishes, may be conveniently tied to a railing and raped. Much sex between a master and his slave is spontaneous and casual, occurring whenever the master wishes, and not unoften when the slave begs for it. The sweetness of these sometimes sudden and transient ravishings, of course, does not replace the lengthy feasts of love of which the Gorean is fond; rather, they merely supplement them. They are, in their way, merely another attestation of the condition of the girl, that she is truly a slave and must be ready, at any time, and in any place, to serve her master’s pleasure. The same girl who, fed by hand, is lengthily ravished over a period of Ahn, or even of a day or two, may, at another time, be merely told to stretch herself over a table. She will do so, immediately, unquestioningly. She is a slave. And how wondrously different does the bedroom of the male seem to the free woman than it does to the slave. She looks upon the couch of the male. She sees the slave ring at its foot. She sees the furs of love, rolled against the side of the wall. She sees the lamp. She sees, coiled beneath the slave ring, a chain; with a collar or shackles. She sees the whip. But these things, as she is free, mean little to her. Imagine, however, if you will, her emotions if she entered that room as a slave girl, stripped and rightless, bearing on her upper thigh, just under her hip, the mark of bondage, her throat clasped in the light, gleaming, close-fitting, locked circlet of a slave. How different, then, would that room seem to her! She is ordered to spread the furs of love. She does so, beneath the slave ring. She must light the lamp. She does so. She returns then to the furs of love, and kneels upon them. She is then fastened by her master to the slave ring. Perhaps this is merely done by a single ankle ring, on her left ankle, or perhaps both of her ankles are shackled, the length of chain running through the slave ring. If this is done, of course, the chaining is such that her ankles may be thrust widely, even painfully apart. Or perhaps the collar is locked upon her, with its dependent chain. She, then, feels the drag of the chain against her collar, and the chain, with its heavy links, between her bared breasts; she knows well that she is chained.
Though the light of the lamp is soft and sensuous, it is quite adequate, by design, to illuminate her; she is under no delusion on this score; her tiniest movements and her subtlest expressions, she knows, will be fully visible to her master. This is as it should be; she is his slave. Some free women, incidentally, insist on making love in the dark, because of their modesty. If such a woman should be enslaved, however, she must learn to perform in full illumination, whether it be in the soft light of a common ravishment lamp or on a dock at midday.
We shall now suppose that the girl is kneeling before her master, on the deep furs, in the position of the pleasure slave, in the soft light of the lamp, chained to the slave ring. Do you not think that she will find that room different than would the free woman? The master walks about her, whip in hand. She tries to hold herself as beautifully as she can, that he will be pleased. Perhaps she lowers her head, frightened, submissively. She feels the butt of his whip under her chin, lifting it up. She must hold her head properly. She sees the master shake out the blades of the whip. Is she to be whipped, or raped, or both? But he folds back the blades and holds the whip before her. She kisses it, fervently, in token of her slavery and submission. He then drops the whip to the side, but where it may easily be grasped, should he wish to do so. He then lifts the chain and throws it to the side, over her left shoulder. He then begins to caress her, with the full and possessive caresses of the master, sometimes even holding her in place with her left hand behind the small of her back. She begins to moan. Then, when he wishes, she is thrust on her back on the furs. “Please, be gentle, my Master,” she begs. But he will, or will not, as it pleases him. She lies before him, a slave, his to do with as he pleases. It is little wonder, then, I think, that the female slave experiences the bedroom of the male in a manner quite different from that of the free woman. Guardsman of Gor Book 16 Page 201 - 203
The slave girl, it might be mentioned, in connection with the “releasing effects” of the collar, is relieved of many social pressures to which the free woman, because of her freedom, must remain subject. The free woman, for example, may fear that men will learn of her sexual vitality. It would not do for her for them to know that she, that lofty creature, on the couch, is a helpless, panting, licking she-sleen. The slave girl, on the other hand, does not have this problem. She knows that she belongs to a category of women toward which respect need not be shown, and will not be shown.
Guardsman of Gor Book 16 Page 209
A third reason why girls tend to wear their collars with pleasure and pride, aside from the attractiveness of the collar and its seductiveness, is seldom mentioned. That is, that the collar, in its way, functions as a symbol of interesting differences among women. It, like a wired seal of quality, attests to the value of the merchandise upon which it is fastened. “Beautiful enough to he collared” is a Gorean compliment, though perhaps a rather rude one, and one that one would not be likely to hear addressed openly and to the face of a free woman. “She has legs pretty enough to be those of a slave girl” is another such compliment. If the free woman should hear such compliments she will he scandalized. But she may also wonder if, indeed, she is beautiful enough to be collared, and if, indeed, her legs are as pretty as those of a slave girl. If, at some later time, she is collared, she will then, for all practical purposes, have the answers to her questions. Normally it is only the finest, and the most feminine and desirable of women who are enslaved. This makes sense. Guardsman of Gor Book 16 Page 210
The collar, thus, particularly statistically, is a symbol of excellence and quality, of value, among women. It says, in effect, “Here is a woman whom men have wanted. Here is a woman whom men have found beautiful enough, and desirable enough, to enslave.” The slave girl, in her tunic and collar, trembling, kneels in the street before the ornately robed, arrogant, imperious free woman. Perhaps she is even struck or kicked by her. But who, truly, is the superior woman? Many Goreans believe that it is the girl who kneels on the stones.
Guardsman of Gor Book 16 Page 211
As a free woman she had been, in effect, without accomplishments. Now she had additional ways in which to please her master. She now knelt behind her master. She wore a yellow tunic, and her collar. Guardsman of Gor Book 16 Page 232
It is a well-known fact that the mere sight of chains can make many women, even free women, sexually uneasy. Imagine if they were put in them. The chain, like the rope and the strap, and the whip, even when they have no reason to believe they will ever be used on them, speak on some profound level to women. Imagine, then, that a woman, falling slave, suddenly realized that she was now, in effect, subject to them! Consider her fears, her curiosity, her arousal A woman, often, particularly if stripped, seeing a chain and knowing that it is to be placed upon her, will feel uncontrollable sexual desire, her body opening like a humid flower in its receptivity. That response can characterize even a free woman. Imagine, then, if you will, that now the woman is not free, but has fallen slave! She now knows that she is subject, categorically and in all ways, to the full domination of the master. No longer does she have even the theoretical option of offering a token resistance. Open, enraptured, joyful, she writhes moaning and crying out on the furs of love, a conquered slave, a fulfilled woman.
Guardsman of Gor Book 16 Page 243
“A free woman!” suddenly exclaimed Glyco, startled.
I smiled.
From the kitchen there had emerged, in the robes of concealment, the figure of a woman.
The men, save I, rose as one to their feet, for Gorean men commonly stand when a free woman enters a room.
The voluptuous slave of Aemilianus swiftly knelt, making herself as small as possible, putting her head to the floor. The little dark-haired slave, too, swiftly knelt, also putting her head to the floor. Too, she shuddered, trying to cover her nakedness with her hands. Peggy and Florence, too, now had their heads to the floor. Slave girls, as I may have mentioned, fear free women, terribly.
Guardsman of Gor Book 16 Page 255
A familiar bit of advice given by bold Gorean physicians to free women who consult them about their frigidity is, to their scandal, “Learn slave dance.” Another bit of advice, usually given to a free woman being ushered out of his office by a physician impatient with her imaginary ailments is, “Become a slave.” Frigidity, of course, is not accepted in slaves. If nothing else, it will be beaten out of their beautiful hides by whips.
Guardsman of Gor Book 16 Page 260
The lovely figures of slave girls are not accidents. Only free women are permitted to become unkempt and gross. Guardsman of Gor Book 16 Page 264
I looked down at her, on her belly, her small hands chained behind her. The passions of the female slave are a mystery to many free women who, unaroused and sexually inert, never collared and owned, cannot even understand them; to most free women, of course, the passions of the female slave are not so much a mystery as a source of envy and fury; she senses that they, deep and precious, making the slave so helpless and vulnerable, are far beyond anything which she herself possesses. Sometimes, perhaps, twisting on her couch at night in frustration, the free woman may dimly sense what it is to be an aroused slave, a woman so much at the mercy of men, and so precious and beautiful to them; the free woman clenches her fists and moans; the slave may throw herself to the feet of men and beg to please them, as she cannot.
Guardsman of Gor Book 16 Page 286
In most Gorean cities it is illegal to offer an unbranded woman in a public sale. This is presumably in deference to the delicacy and sensibilities of free women. The brand draws a cataclysmic gulf between the Gorean free woman, secure in her arrogance, beauty and caste rights, and the stripped, nameless, rightless slaves; suitably vended as the mere lovely beasts they are in the flesh markets of this primitive, gorgeous world.
Savages of Gor Book 17 Page 101
“I betrayed myself,” she said.
“Let us think clearly about this matter,” I suggested.
“Your assertion might be construed as meaning that you had committed some treason against yourself; or, perhaps, as meaning merely that you had revealed, or manifested, yourself. Let us consider, first, the matter of treason. A free woman might, possibly, feel that she had betrayed herself, in this sense, if she had so yielded to a man as to supply him with some perhaps subtle hint as to the latency of her slave reflexes. A slave girl, on the other hand, cannot commit treason against herself in this sense, for she is a slave. To commit this type of treason one must have a right, say, to deceive others as to one’s sensuality, to conceal one’s sexuality, and so on. The slave girl, an owned animal, under the command of her master, does not have this sort of right. Indeed, she has no rights. Accordingly, she cannot commit this sort of treason. Her legal status precludes its possibility. She may, of course, rationally, fear the consequences of her responsiveness being discovered, thus increasing, perhaps to her terror, in a slave culture, her desirability. Similarly she may lie, or attempt to lie, about her responsiveness, but she is then, of course, merely a lying slave and, when found out, will be treated accordingly.”
“Such treason, then,” she said, “can be committed only by a free woman.”
“Yes,” I said. “It is a luxury not permitted to the slave.”
“It is a function only of the free woman’s right to lie, and defraud, others?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said. “It is possible, of course, for the slave, subjectively, psychologically, to feel that she has committed this treason, for she may, mistakenly, be still regarding herself, implicitly, as a free woman.”
“But she cannot, in fact, have committed it, because she is a slave?” asked the girl.
“Yes,” I said.
“I understand, Master,” she said, bitterly.
“You see,” I said, “you were still regarding yourself, implicitly, at least at the moment, as a free woman, or, perhaps better, more narrowly, as retaining at least one of the rights of a free woman.”
“I am not to be beaten, am I, Master?” she asked.
“Not at the moment, at least,” I informed her.
Savages of Gor Book 17 Page 189 – 190
“An ignorant free woman is a commonplace,” I said. “An ignorant slave is an absurdity.”
. . .
“You are not a wasted free woman,” I said. “You are a slave. You must earn your keep.”
. . .
“The free woman,” I said, “lies down, and waits to see what will happen. The female slave kneels beside her master, and begs to please him. The free woman deems it sufficient that she should exist, the slave girl, on the other hand, is expected not only to exist, but to excel; indeed, she fears only, commonly, that she may not be sufficiently marvelous for her master. It is little wonder that most men find the free woman, in her inertness, her ignorance and arrogance, boring. It is little wonder that most men prefer to order her rival to their furs, the helpless, collared, curvaceous, lascivious, feminine slave.”
“I was once a free woman,” said the girl.
“There is hope for the free woman,” I said. “She may be put in a collar, and stripped, and made subject to the whip. She may then, enslaved, be trained, too, for the pleasure of men.”
“Yes, Master,” whispered the girl.
Savages of Gor Book 17 Page 196 – 197
“Sometimes, metaphorically, in English, however,” I said, “a distinction is drawn between the virgin and the woman, a distinction which is almost Gorean in tone. Strictly, of course, in English, one might be both a woman and a virgin.”
“Do Goreans speak freely of these things?” she asked.
“Free persons do not commonly speak freely of them,” I said. “For example, whether a free woman is glana or falarina is obviously her business, and no one else’s. Such intimate matters are well within the prerogatives of her privacy.”
Savages of Gor Book 17 Page 204
Slave girls must yield, and fully, to any man. Their entire mental set, so to speak, in the furs, is oriented toward providing the master with marvelous pleasures, and, in their own case, to feel as richly and deeply as possible, and, in the end, in an uncompromised and delicious capitulation, submitting fully to their master, to obtain the surrender spasms of one who is merely a vanquished woman, naught but an owned and degraded slave. This is quite different from the mental set taken by the free woman to the furs, of course, with attendant deleterious consequences for the free woman, in so far as any woman could be called free who is not surrendered and owned. The free woman is expected to pervert her nature in the furs, behaving as a cultural identical rather than as what she is by nature, the servant and slave of her master. It is littlie wonder that the free woman, concerned with her putative identicality, her status, her image, her dignity and pride, is often inhibited and sexually inert in the furs. The Goreans say that if one has never had a slave one has never had a woman. Similarly there is a secret saying, among Gorean men, that no female is a woman, who has not been made a slave. The free woman, often, fears to feel. The slave, on the other hand, fears not to feel, for she may then, in all likelihood, be punished. The same frigidity which may be accounted a virtue among free women, figuring in their vanity competitions, how well they can resist men, is commonly among slaves an occasion for the imposition of severe discipline; it can even constitute a capital offense. The degraded slave has little choice but to yield, and yield well. An interesting question arises as to whether a woman, permitted her own will in the matter, as a slave is not, can be forced to yield. There are two answers to this question, and the division between the answers is primarily a function of the time involved. Within a given amount of time, say, half of an Ahn, some women can resist some men. On the other hand, there will be some men whom they cannot resist and to whom, despite their will in the matter, they will find themselves uncontrollably yielding. Given a longer amount of time, however, any woman may be made to yield, whether she wishes to or not, by any man. Sometimes, after such a yielding, she is then collared. “Resistance is now no longer permitted,” he tells her. “Yes, Master,” she says. She now knows that she, as a slave, must open herself to feeling, and even seek it avidly, even knowing whence it leads, to the acknowledgement of the male as her master, and of her as his slave.
Savages of Gor Book 17 Page 222
“What did Grunt, who is your master, the fellow in the broad-brimmed hat, call you?” I asked.
“‘Wicincala’,” she said, “which means ‘Girl’, and ‘Amomona’, which means ‘Baby’ or ‘Doll’.”
“I see,” I said. I myself prefer the application of such expressions not to slaves, but to pretentious free women, to remind them that they, in spite of their freedom, are only women. They are useful, by the way, in making a free woman uneasy, their use suggesting to her that perhaps the male is considering shortly enslaving her. In speaking to a slave I prefer expressions such as ‘Slave’ or ‘Slave Girl’, or the girl’s name itself, she understanding clearly, of course, that it is only a slave name.
Savages of Gor Book 17 Page 230 – 231
I well understood, now, why free women could not be permitted to see such a dance. It was the dance of a slave. How horrified, how scandalized, they would have been. Better that they not even know such things could exist. Such dances, that such things could be, are doubtless best kept as the secrets of masters and slaves. Too, how furious, how outraged, they would be, to see how beautiful, how exciting and desirable another woman could be, a thousand times more beautiful, exciting and desirable than themselves, and one who was naught but a slave. But then how could any free woman compete with a slave, one who is truly mastered and owned?
Blood Brothers of Gor Book 18 Page 42
A free woman, understandably, cannot even begin to compete with a female slave for a man’s love. That is perhaps another reason why free women so hate their vulnerable, imbonded sisters. If a free woman would assure herself of her man’s love she could not do better than, in effect, become his slave. She can beg of him, if she senses in herself the true bondage of love, an enslavement ceremony, in which she proclaims herself, and becomes, his slave. In their most secret and intimate relations thereafter she lives and loves as his slave. If a woman fears to do this she may, on an experimental basis, resort to limited self-contracting, in which her documents will contain stated termination dates. Thus, by her own free will, she becomes a slave for a specific period, ranging usually from an evening to a year. The woman enters into this arrangement freely; she cannot, of course, withdraw from it in the same way. The reason for this is clear. As soon as the words are spoken, or her signature is placed on the pertinent document, or document, she is no longer a free person. She is then only a slave, an animal, no longer with any legal powers whatsoever. She is, then, until the completion of the contractual period, until the expiration date of the arrangement, totally subject to the will of her master.
Blood Brothers of Gor Book 18 Page 101 – 102
“In what way,” I asked, “could a slave girl possibly have more power than a free woman?”
She smiled. She lowered her head, demurely. “Some men,” she said, “find us attractive.”
“That is true,” I said. How unpretentiously, and delicately, she had put this point. I could not help, in spite of myself, but agree with her. How could the capacity of a free woman to stimulate male desire even begin to compare with that of the female slave? The female slave, in her helplessness, her vulnerability and beauty, is the most exciting and desirable of all females. Even to look upon one can drive a man mad with passion.
. . .
“I can see,” I said, “that the female slave, in her beauty, may possess, upon occasion, at least, some meager particle of power which does not appertain to the free woman.”
. . .
“But how,” I asked, “in what other way, other than in possible attractiveness and desirability, could a slave have more power than a free woman?”
“If one can do things another cannot, and if one is permitted to do things which another, in effect, could not, then, I suppose, one has, in a sense, powers which the other does not.”
“I see,” I said. “Powers in the sense of capacities and permissions.”
“Yes,” she said. “Slave girls, for example, can, and must, do things and perform acts, superbly, lovingly and unquestioningly, which would be forbidden to free women, or unthinkable for them. Indeed, some of the performances expected of slave girls, and some of the services rendered by them to their masters, are doubtless beyond even the ken of our ignorant free sisters. They probably do not even suspect their nature.”
“They may suspect,” I smiled. The liberties, in certain senses, permitted to slave girls doubtless constituted an additional reason why free women so hated and envied them. The free woman, in a sense, is paradoxical. She professes to despise the slave girl; she professes to loathe her and hold her in contempt; but, too, obviously, she is almost insanely jealous of her. Can it be that she, too, in her secret heart, wishes to kneel before a man, naked and in his collar, totally subject to his will?
“But some of the things they probably do not even know of,” she said.
“That is probably true,” I said. It was true that free women tended to be somewhat naive and ignorant. Some of them, at any rate, when enslaved, seemed quite startled to discover the nature of some of the even routine performances and services that would now be expected of them.
“Too,” said the girl, “we are better at certain things than free women, such as serving and pleasing men.”
“That is true,” I said. The docility, deference and perfection of a slave girl’s service are legendary. They had better be. She is owned. Too, the intimate and fantastic pleasures they can give men are well known, at least among free men.
“Too,” she said, “we are permitted to act in certain ways in which I think it would be unlikely that a free woman could, or would, act.”
Blood Brothers of Gor Book 18 Page 104 – 106
“What were your relations with men, prior to your enslavement?” I asked.
“Cannot you simply take me and be done with it?” she asked.
“Speak,” I said.
“At one time,” she said, “in spite of being a proud free woman of Ar, I felt the desire for the companionship of men.”
“I understand,” I said.
“I decided that I would permit them, certain ones of my careful choosing, of proper means and stations, to become acquainted with me, and that I might then, from among these,
favor certain ones with the dignity and honor of my friendship. Then, perhaps, in time, if I felt so inclined, I might, if he were thoroughly pleasing and wholly suitable, consider acceding to the pleas of one to enter into companionship with me.”
“And how did matters proceed?” I asked.
“I called together a number of young men,” she said. “I informed them of my willingness to form acquaintances, and specified to them the strict conditions to which these relationships, absolute equality, and such, would be subject.”
“And what happened?” I asked.
“All withdrew politely,” she said, “and I never saw them again, with one exception, a little urt of a man who told me he shared my views, fully.”
“You entered into companionship with him?” I asked.
“I discovered he was interested only in my wealth,” she said. “I dismissed him.”
“You were then angry and hurt,” I said, “and began to devote yourself wholly to the pursuits of business.”
“Yes,” she said.
“Too,” I said, “I gather, from other aspects of your story, that you became mercenary and greedy.”
“Perhaps,” she said.
“And then you were captured, and brought into the Barrens, and made a slave,” I said.
. . .
“I think you feared your womanhood,” I said. “That seems clear, even from your behavior in Ar. This is not unusual, incidentally, in a free woman, because deep womanhood, they sense, involves love, and love, for a woman, seems always to involve a bondage, if not of ropes and chains, of one sort or another.”
She looked at me, tears in her eyes.
“Then, when you were, in effect, rejected as a woman, you were hurt and angry. You determined never to endure another such humiliating rejection. Too, understandably, you became hostile towards men. You would hate them. You would outdo them. You would have your vengeance on them. You came to fear certain sorts of feelings. You drew back even further from your womanhood.”
“No, no, no,” she wept, “I am a poor slave only because I am unresponsive! That is my nature! I cannot help it!”
“That is not your nature,” I told her. “And you are going to help it.”
Blood Brothers of Gor Book 18 Page 135 – 137
Free women, whose sexuality is usually, for most practical purposes, sluggish and inert, often have difficulty in understanding the desperation and intensity of these needs on the part of a female slave. They think that she is different from, and inferior to, themselves. If they themselves should be enslaved, of course, they are likely to soon revise these opinions. They, too, then may well find themselves moaning and scratching in their kennels, begging rude keepers for their touch, and being despised, in turn, by free women.
Blood Brothers of Gor Book 18 Page 141
“It is perhaps just as well,” I said. “You were a free woman, and you have not had much training. If you did not do well, you might be whipped severely, or perhaps slain.”
“Oh,” she said.
“Being a slave girl is very different from being a free woman,” I said. “From a free woman a man expects little, or nothing. From a slave girl, on the other hand, he expects, as it is said, everything, and more.”
“I understand,” she said.
“A free woman may be valueless and, if she wishes, account this a virtue. A slave, on the other hand, must be superbly pleasing. She must see to it, with all her intelligence and beauty, that she is her master’s attentive, sensitive, skillful treasure.”
Blood Brothers of Gor Book 18 Page 165
I did not know if Bloketu would be permitted into the council or not. Normally women are not permitted in such places. The red savages, though often listening with great attention to their free women, and according them great honor and respect, do not choose to relinquish the least bit of their sovereignty to them. They will make the decisions. They are the men. The women will obey.
Blood Brothers of Gor Book 18 Page 199
Whereas a free woman may often make a man angry with impunity, she being lofty and free, this latitude is seldom extended to the slave.
Blood Brothers of Gor Book 18 Page 221
Lastly I would no longer be an encumbrance to you for I am, obviously, no longer a free woman. No longer am I an inconvenience and a bother, something to be concerned about and watched out for. Now I am only a property that begs to love and serve you.”
Blood Brothers of Gor Book 18 Page 283
“I was thinking of when I was a free woman,” she said. “How contemptuous I was of the slave girls in the cities, how I scorned them, and despised them, so helpless in their lowly, silken slaveries, and yet, now, how I envy them their slaveries!”
“What lucky, soft little things they are,” she said, “being sold naked off sales blocks to the whips and chains of strong masters, with little more to worry about than the heat of the kitchens, the steaming water of the laundering tubs, the dangers, from young, prowling ruffians, of shopping in the evening! How warm and safe they are locked in their kennels at night or cuddling, in furs, chained at the foot of their masters’ couches! What need have they to fear sleen and tarns! They need fear only their masters!”
Blood Brothers of Gor Book 18 Page 333
“Yes,” she said, “I was jealous of their beauty and desirability. I envied them their happiness.”
“Did you know this as a free woman?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said, “but I do not think that I would have freely admitted it.”
“Deceit is a freedom of free women,” I said.
Blood Brothers of Gor Book 18 Page 334
Mira had fallen upon the porridge with gusto. She now, with her fingers and tongue, was wiping the bowl clean. She did not eat now as might a rich, free woman, from a golden service with Turian prongs, sumptuously, in some fine house. She ate now as a slave, and was grateful for her feeding.
Blood Brothers of Gor Book 18 Page 354
I supposed it was difficult for mere female slaves, in their scanty garments, and in their lowly station, not to be excited by rich, powerful, handsome, resplendent free men, so far above themselves. It was much easier for one like myself, a free woman, and richly robed, to control, resist and fight femininity. In the case of the slave, on the other hand, femininity is actually required of her. Indeed, if she is insufficiently feminine she will be beaten. It is no wonder female slaves are so helpless with men. I noted the eyes of Miles of Argentum on Susan. She trembled, being appraised. I felt sudden anger, and jealousy. He had not looked at me like that! To be sure, she was a slave, and I was free. It would certainly be improper for anyone to look on me, a free woman, in that candid, basic way! Too, Susan had me at a disadvantage. Would not any woman look attractive if she were half naked and put on a chain? How could I compete with that?
Kajira of Gor Book 19 Page 92
“But remember,” he said, smiling, “it is slaves who are assessed and have prices. Free women are priceless.”
Kajira of Gor Book 19 Page 97
In the open-air markets, or in the outside displays, the girls, seeing me viewing them, had usually knelt, immediately, putting their he