Use of the word "slut" in the books

Use of word "slut" in the Books
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With both hands I wrenched the veil back from her face, thrusting my hand under it to fasten my fist in her hair and then, as if she were a common tavern girl or camp slut, I dragged the daughter of the Ubar of all Gor to the shelter of the Ka-la-na trees. Among the trees, on the clover, I threw her to my feet. She tried frantically to readjust the folds of her veil, but with both hands I tore it fully away, and she lay at my feet as it is said on Gor, face-stripped.

1) Tarnsman of Gor pgs: 97-98 | Chapter: 7:72

2

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.

10) Tribesmen of Gor pgs: 25

3

"You were treated with great kindness. You were not put in the kitchens. You were not given to tharlarion drivers. You were taken into our own apartments. You were permitted to sleep in my own chamber, at the foot of my couch. You were trained diligently as a lady's maid."
"Yes, Mistress," said the girl.
"Is that not a great honor for a slave slut?"
"Yes, Mistress," said the girl.

11) Slave Girl of Gor pgs: 115

4 - FW thoughts on slaves

"Slave girls, Mistress? I asked.
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."

14) Fighting Slave of Gor pgs: 63

5 - Perfume - FW Wanting FM Attentions

Delicately through her nose. I saw the veil draw inward.
"What is the meaning of this?" she asked, horrified.
"Surely this is slave perfume"
"No," said Turbus Veminius, "but it, by design, resembles it."
"Surely you do not expect me to pay for this?" she asked. "Only if you wish to, Lady Kita," he said.
Her eyes, over her veil, were angry.
"You wished a perfume, did you not," asked Turbus Veminius, "to distract your companion from his slave sluts, did you not?"
"Yes," she said.
"This perfume," said Turbus Veminius, will remind him of what he has forgotten, that you are a woman."
She looked at him, her body rigid with rage.
"But it, in itself," he said, "will do little to improve your situation"
"I do not understand," she said.
"You are, I suspect," said Turbus Veminius, "'a pretty little thing. If your companion bought you, naked and collared in a market, he would doubtless prize you highly."
"Turbus" she cried, angrily.
"But as his companion you are much taken for granted," he said.
"It is true," she suddenly sobbed.
"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
"Why?" she asked
"I do not know," said Turbus Veminius
Simply because the slave girl is a slave girl, truly, and is owned?"
"What then am I to do?" she asked.
"You could risk slavery," he said, "expose yourself to possible capture, walk the high bridges at lonely Ahn, picnic in the country, go to paga taverns alone, take dangerous sea voyages."
"But what if I were caught, and enslaved?" she asked.
"You would then be a true slave girl," he said, "and would doubtless be taught, thoroughly, and more deeply and sensuously.

14) Fighting Slave of Gor pgs: 218

6 - FW and Slave Perfumes - Cost

...you could ever hope to learn them as a free woman, for you would then be a slave....
"But I might never again come into the possession of my former companion." she said.
"Presumably you would not," he said. "But presumably you would come into the possession of some man who truly wanted you, and who was willing to pay good money for you.
"I brought a large companion price to my companion,' she said. "Perhaps he wanted that more than me."
"I do not know," said Turbus, shrugging.
"He did," she said, bitterly. "He did."
"Perhaps it would be just as well," then said Turbus sympathetically if you did not come into his possession."
She put her head down.
"The girl who is. Bought off the block," said Turbus "knows that it is she herself, and only herself, who is desired. Nothing else, you understand, is being sold, only the girl."
"Yes, Turbus," she said. "I understand"
"I will take back this perfume," he said. "Obviously you will not want"
"No," she said, quickly, lifting her head. "I will take it."
"Me price is high," he said, "a golden tarn disk."
"I will pay it," she said, giving him the coin from a small, beaded purse she held in her hand.
She turned to leave, but then, again turned to face him. "Yes?" he asked.
"Do you sell slave perfume true slave perfume?" she asked.
"We do not sell perfume for slave sluts in the shop of Veminius, he said sternly.
"Forgive me, Turbus," she said.
"Try the shop of the Steel Bracelets," It is near the house of Hassan, on the Street of Brands."
"Thank you, Turbus." she said. She turned again, to leave. "And do not let them overcharge you," he called after her.
"Five two-hort vials should cost you no more than a copper tarsk."
"Yes, Turbus," she said. "Thank you. Turbus." She stopped in the doorway, but did not turn to face him. "I wish you well, Turbus," she said.

14) Fighting Slave of Gor pgs: 219

7 - Sewing, Coth, Hurt Wool, Male/Female Slave Garment

Barus took the gourd and drank. He had seen that the Mistress' spy had served him well.
He held the cup. "Are you under perfect discipline, Taphris?" he asked.
"Yes, Master," she said, trembling.
"It did not seem so this afternoon," he said.
"Forgive me, Master," she said, trembling. "Please do not have me slain." Taphris, a Gorean slave girl, knew that she was at the complete mercy of free persons. Barus, as one of the Mistress' slave keepers, could kill her, or have her killed, at a whim. The Mistress, she knew, could always send another spy to the stables, perhaps Pamela or Bonnie, other house slaves. Neither Pamela nor Bonnie, incidentally, were Earth girls, though they wore Earth-girl names. Such names, as I have mentioned, are often used as slave names on Gor.
Taphris kept her head down.
"Do not kneel me with those sluts!" she had cried out, angrily.
The other girls, kneeling in a circle, referred to as sluts by one who was herself obviously only a stable slut, even to the rag and collar, cried out in protest, in outrage.
"Kneel," had said Barus.
"Yes, Master," had said Taphris, and she had knelt, taking her place in the circle.
She had not been pleased, but she had obeyed.
The other girls, I had seen, had glanced at one another. The outburst of Taphris had not been punished. She had not been slapped until she cried out for mercy, or kicked, or disrobed or beaten. Obviously, in some way, she was special. Barus, I had seen, had been angry.
"Sew," he had said, irritably.
He threw the girls feed sacks. To Tuka he gave a pair of scissors. To all of them he gave a needle and thread. The sacks were to be used to make girth cloths for the expected hatchlings.
The incident had occurred in the sewing shed, which has a large window. The stitching on the sacks is opened, and then the sacks are cut into appropriately sized strips, which are then joined and hemmed. Commonly this is a pleasant time for the girls, kneeling on cloths on the wooden floor, sewing and chatting, but today they were quiet and, heads down, worked and did not speak. The finished girth cloth is about ten feet in length and a yard in width. Taphris, too, sewed. She had a slight smile about her lips. The cloth of feed sacks, incidentally, though it is a coarse cloth, is seldom used for slave garments. The wool of the hurt is usually used for male slave garments; it absorbs perspiration well; and rep-cloth is commonly used for female slave garments; it is quite thin and clings well to the curves of the female body.

14) Fighting Slave of Gor pgs: 261-262


8

The tall man's gaze wandered to the girl beside me, the chain depending from her collar. His gaze lingered upon her, examining her beauty casually. She shrank back. "Does she not know she is in the presence of free men?" he asked.
"Position, slut!" I snapped to the girl.
Swiftly the Lady Florence, frightened, knelt in the straw.
She knelt back on her heels, her back straight, her head up, her hands on her thighs. She knelt in the position of the house slave. I looked at her sternly. Swiftly she spread her knees. She knelt now in the position of the pleasure slave, the slave of interest to men.


14) Fighting Slave of Gor pgs: 345-346


9

“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!”

14) Fighting Slave of Gor pgs: 349-350

10

"A cold, prissy, little Earth slut," called the auctioneer, "and yet one not without interest as you can see." He bent her back, his hand in her hair, exposing the bow of her beauty to the men. There was a sound of pleasure from the crowd.
"She is already branded," said the auctioneer, "but has served primarily as a display slave, and not a use slave." He then turned her, still keeping his hand in her hair so that those on his left might better see her. "Accordingly," he said, "she is not yet fully broken to the collar." There was laugher from the crowd. He then turned her so that those on his right might better see her. "In my opinion," said he, "it is now time for this girl to learn the various uses to which a slave can be put."
"Yes!" shouted more than one fellow. He then, as she gasped, bent her back a bit more, turning her again toward her left, so that she was presented exquisitely to the men. "Does she not appear ready for taming and heating?" inquired the auctioneer.

15) Rogue of Gor pgs: 81-82


11

Too, Miles of Argentum had speculated that I might bring as much as even a silver tarsk in a market. Was it then because I was free? Were Gorean men spoiled for free women by those collared, curvaceous little sluts they had crawling about their feet, desperately eager to please them? Given such luscious alternatives it was natural enough, I supposed, that men would see little point in subjecting themselves to the inconvenience, frustration and pain of relating to a free woman, with her demands, inhibitions and rigidities. Perhaps they could not be blamed for not choosing to reduce the quality of their lives in this fashion. To be sure, if slaves were not available, then it was understandable how men might relate to free women. Sexually starved, and driven by their needs, they would then be forced to make do with whatever might be available, the best in such a case perhaps being the free woman. But on Gor alternatives, real alternatives, slaves, were available. It was no wonder free women as I had heard, so hated slaves. How could they even begin to compete with a slave, those dreams come true for men?

19) Kajira of Gor pgs: 114

12

“It had not even occurred to me that it might have been your idea, Mistress,” smiled Susan. “You did not even want me punished. Mistress has always shown me incredible lenience. Mistress has always shown me incredible kindness. It is almost as if –”
“Yes?” I said.
“– almost as if Mistress has some idea of the helplessness and vulnerability of the slave.”
“And how,” I asked angrily, “would I, a free woman, have any idea of that?”
“Forgive me, Mistress,” said Susan. “Of course you, as a free woman, could not!” I was angry. I considered whipping the little, collared slut. She put her head down, quickly, and continued her work, menial work, work suitable for such as she, a slave.

19) Kajira of Gor pgs: 160

13

I saw him taking out the slave sack in the utility room. This was not the first time I had been unchained and hurried to the utility room “Get in,” he said.
Before he had taken the sack from its shelf he had ordered me to the floor of the utility room, to my back on the dusty boards.
“Lie there and juice” he had told me. ‘Waste no time about it.”
I had lain there and, briefly, shut my eyes and thought of his might and power, and my helpless slavery, and then I was ready, almost in a moment, to receive him he had had me swiftly. “Why do you keep me ugly?” I had whimpered. Only this morning he had shared me again. The hair of the other girls was being permitted to grow out, if only until it reached a suitable shearing length. Mine, on the other hand, he had made a point of keeping short. I had been five months now in the mill. “Be silent, Slut,” he had said. “Yes, Master,” I had said.

19) Kajira of Gor pgs: 273 | Chapter: 19


14

"Suppose, now," said the floor manager, "he reaches out and touches you."
I closed my eyes, and parted my lips. "Yes, Master," I whispered. "Thank you, Master! Please, Master!"
"You must be capable of variations on that," said the floor manager.
"Yes, Master," I said. I wished he had let the aide actually touch me. I was starving for the touch of a man.
"Perhaps what you have to serve is of interest," said the aide, playing the role of a banqueter. "I do not know. Display it for me."
I then put the tray down on the table and slipped back, on my knees, a foot or two. I looked at the aide. I pretended to slip slave silk from my shoulders. I then, sometimes on the floor, and never rising higher than my knees, displayed my limbs, and moved and turned before him, showing myself to him in various postures and attitudes. In this type of display expressions, too, are quite important, and being keenly alert to the possibilities of interactions with the master. For example, how do you act when you see his eye roving you, and you note indications of interest? Do you dare to seem to express outrage or resentment under his frank examination, do you feign boredom and mechanical compliance, that he may be tempted to turn you into a squirming slut begging for his least touch, are you brazen in your display, an insolent slave, are you proud to exhibit the beauty of your master's merchandise, do you show fear before this strange man, before whom you must so vulnerably perform, do you permit him to glimpse needs, do you beg him, in your performance, for his touch, and so on. On Gor it is the whole woman who is enslaved, in the fullness and depth of her intelligence and emotions. On Gor it is the whole woman who is collared. Gorean masters will have it no other way. I performed then before the floor manager's aide, totally a slave. In short, I put myself through slave paces before him, presenting myself .as a total female for his interest and consideration.
Though it was late and we were tired I saw sweat on the brow of the floor manager's aide. I saw his hands move, the fingers wiping sweat from them.
"Very good, Tiffany," said the floor manager. "You may rest now."
"Thank you, Master," I said.

19) Kajira of Gor pgs: 299-300


15 - Supine Capture Position

“Sweat and squirm now, luscious slut,” he said. “Cry out your love for me. Perhaps I will be moved to be merciful, and keep you as the lowest and most worthless slave on Gor!”
“I do love you!” I wept.
“Lying slave!” he cried. He leapt across the room, and, with the flat of his hand, savagely, struck me from my knees. My right shoulder struck the tiles. I tasted blood in my mouth. I lay there, bound, frightened. It had been only a slap, but I felt as though my head might have been almost taken from me. I was awe-stricken. I had not realized how strong he was. What if he had truly struck me? I knew I must obey him with perfection.
“On your back,” he said, “knees raised, heels on the floor.” I then lay before him, in a standard, supine capture position.

19) Kajira of Gor pgs: 422

16

“Disgusting! Disgusting!” cried the free woman, one veiled and wearing the robes of the scribes, standing in the audience. “Pull down your skirt, you slave, you brazen hussy!”
“Pray, do withdraw, noble sir, for you surprise me unawares, and of necessity I must improvise some veiling, lest my features be disclosed,” cried the girl upon the stage, Boots Tarsk-Bit’s current Brigella. I had seen her a few days earlier in Port Kar.
“Pull down your skirt, slut!” cried the free woman in the audience.
“Be quiet,” said a free man to the woman. “It is only a play.”
“Be silent yourself!” she cried back at him.
“Would that you were a slave,” he growled. “You would pay richly for your impertinence.”
“I am not a slave,” she said.
“Obviously,” he said.
“And I shall never he a slave,” she said.
“Do not be too sure of that,” he said.
“Beast,” she said.
“I wonder if you would be any good chained in a tent,” he said.
“Monster!” she said.
“Let us observe the drama,” suggested another fellow.

20) Players of Gor pgs: 120-121

17

It must be understood, of course, to fully appreciate what was going on, that the public exposure of the features of a free woman, particularly one of high caste, or with some pretense to position or status, is a socially serious matter in many Gorean localities. Indeed, in some cities an unveiled free woman is susceptible to being taken into custody by guardsmen, then to be veiled, by force if necessary, and publicly conducted back to her home. Indeed, in some cities she is marched back to her home stripped, except for the face veil which has been put on her. In these cases a crowd usually follows, to see to what home it is that she is to be returned. Repeated offenses in such a city usually result in the enslavement of the female. Such serious measures, of course, are seldom required to protect such familiar Gorean proprieties. Custom, by itself, normally suffices.
Social pressures, too, in various ways, contribute to the same end. An unveiled woman, for example, may find other women turning away from her in a market, perhaps with expressions of disgust. Indeed, she may not even be waited upon, or dealt with, in a market by a free woman unless she first kneels. It would not be unusual for her, in a crowded place, to overhear remarks, perhaps whispers or sneers, of which she is the obvious object, such as “Shameless slut,” “Brazen baggage,” “As immodest as a slave,” “I wonder who her master is,” and “Put a collar on her!” And if she should attempt to confront or challenge her assailants, she will merely find such remarks repeated articulately and clearly to her face.

20) Players of Gor pgs: 124-125

18

“Put that slut back, behind the wagon,” said Boabissia, “where she, like the animal she is, led, may follow with the other.”
“Please?” I asked.
“Yes, please,” said Boabissia, angrily.
“Very well,” I said. I decided I would do this, at least this time, in deference to the wishes of Boabissia. She was after all, a free woman.

21) Mercenaries of Gor pgs: 78

19

“Ai!” said Feiqa, suddenly, startled, moving.
“Kneel, slave girl,” said a young, imperious voice.
Swiftly Feiqa knelt.
“Kiss my feet, female slave,” said the voice.
Feiqa was kneeling before a boy, perhaps some eleven or twelve years of age. His face was dirty. He was barefoot, and in rags. I assumed he must live in the rooms somewhere. Feiqa a full-grown and beautiful female, but a slave, put down her head and, doing him obeisance, kissed his feet, and fearfully, and humbly He was a free person, and a male.
“Go away, you disgusting child,” said Boabissia.
“Be silent, woman,” he said.
“I have a good mind to strike you,” said Boabissia.
“Lift your head, slut,” said the lad to Feiqa.
She obeyed.
He regarded her. “You are a pretty one,” he said. “What do you say?’ he demanded.
“Thank you, Master,” she said.
He then stood close to her and ran his hands through her hair. He then took her collar by the sides in his small fingers and jerked it forward, towards him, against the back of her neck. He then, by the pressure on the collar, forced her head rudely from side to side. He then pressed it up, cruelly, under her chin, forcing her head up. He was exerting his force on her through her slave collar. She would have no doubt it was on her. He did these things, incidentally, with the typical awareness of men who know how to handle women in collars, in such a way as not to injure or threaten the windpipe. Such a thing is never done, unless it is intentional. “A good, solid collar,” he said.
“I am pleased that master is pleased,” whispered Feiqa, frightened.
“It is on you well, isn't it?” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“What does it mean?” he asked.
“That I am a slave,” she said.
“Go away,” said Boabissia.
“Oh,” said Feiqa.
The lad had put his hands rudely within her tunic and caressed her. Tears sprang to Feiqa’s eyes.
“Go away,” said Boabissia.
“Are you not grateful, slave?” asked the lad.
“Yes, Master,” said Feiqa.
“You may kiss my feet in gratitude, slave,” said the lad.
“Yes, Master. Thank you Master,” said Feiqa, and put her head down, kissing his feet.
“More lingeringly,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
The lad then turned about. “It is pleasant to master slaves,” he said. “Perhaps when I am older, and rich. I shall buy myself one, much like this one, though perhaps younger, nearer my own age.”
He then left.
“He lives in the building,” said the proprietor. “He, and some of the others, sometimes in gangs, enjoy playing “Capture the Slave Girl.”
“I see,” I said.
Feiqa, still kneeling, somewhat shaken, adjusted her tunic.

21) Mercenaries of Gor pgs: 277-278


20

“She had now spread her knees, the shameless slut! I then moved a bit to my left, toward the gate of the cage, and spread my own knees, doubtlessly just as shamelessly. It gave me great pleasure to do this. It was like an act of rebellion, or defiance, in my heart, to the woman who had beaten me on the wagon. To be sure, she, with her stick, could not see me. I would not have been so brave, doubtless, if she had been about. But I was now pleased to be again so kneeling. It was the way I was supposed to kneel, and it was the way I would kneel, I decided, even before free women, if a man were present, unless he ordered me to kneel differently. It was to men that I belonged, not women. Let them rant! Let them cry out with rage. I was proud to belong to men, to men such as those of this world! I would thus, rightfully, and joyously, kneel before them as what I was, a woman, and their slave.”

22) Dancer of Gor pgs: 84
Key Words:
posnadu

21 - virgin dance

"Do you beg now to dance before your first use Master?" asked Mirus. "Yes, Master," I said. "And before the guests of Hendow?" he asked. "Yes, Master," I said. "And before all present?" he inquired. "Yes, Master!" I said. "Adorn her," said Mirius. ," Ina," called Tupita. "Sit," she said then to me, "with your hands on the floor beside you, leaning forward, your right leg advanced." Ina came forward from the back through the beaded curtain, with a flat, shallow, box. Tupita and Sita removed the leather cuffs from my wrists. There are some three senses of the expression "virgin dance" on Gor. There is a sense in which it is a kind of dance, rather than a particular dance, which is deemed appropriate for virgins. In that sense I was not expected to perform a "virgin dance." One would seldom see such dances in taverns. The second sense is the obvious one in which it is a dance danced by a virgin, and usually just prior to the loss of her virginity. In that sense, it could be almost any dance which serves the purpose of displaying the girl before her initial ravishing. The third sense of the term is that of a specific dance, or type of dance, most often, interestingly, not even danced by a virgin, but usually by an experienced slave. It is not exactly a story dance, but more of an emotional or attitudinal piece, more in the nature of a "role dance," a dance in which the slave dances as though she might be a virgin, but knows she is to be ravished, and that she is expected to be pleasing. The dance I was expected to perform was, I suppose, a "virgin dance" in both the second and third senses of the term. Mirius, paradoxically, speaking obviously in the third sense of the term, had told me that I would do better at this sort of dance when I was no longer a virgin. I felt metal anklets being thrust on my ankles by Tupita and Sita. They put several on each ankle. They then, similarly, placed narrow bracelets on both my wrists, several on each wrist. A long belt of cord, to which were attached numerous metal disks, suspended and shimmering, was then looped twice about me, the first loop secured high, and tight, at my waist, and the second loop, a larger loop, a framing loop, was secured in such a way, in the back, that it would hang quite low on my belly, well below my navel. The purpose of this belt was to call attention to, and enhance, by sound and sight, the movements of the hips and abdomen. With the slave beads I already wore I felt unutterably displayed, and barbaric. I could not move now without the sounds of the beads, the anklets and bracelets, the shimmering belt with its two loops. "Stand," said Tupita. I did. The men gasped with pleasure. I was frightened. "Prepare to dance, slave," said Tupita. "Good," said a man. I stood then with my hands lifted over my head, the backs of my hands facing one another, my knees flexed. It is a common beginning position in slave dance. The musicians readied themselves. I looked out on the men. These were not men of Earth, defeated and tamed by propaganda and lies. These were Gorean men, men like lions. I stood before them, weak and helpless, a woman from Earth, now a collared slave who must dance for their pleasure. The czehar player, sitting cross-legged, now had his instruments across his lap. He was the leader of the musicians. He had his horn pick in hand. I stood barefoot, naked, save for collar and adornments, on the dancing floor of a low-ceilinged Gorean tavern. I must prepare to please masters. "Are you ready?" asked the leader of the musicians, the czehar player. "Yes, Master!" I said, eagerly "Aii!" cried a fellow, pleased, as I began to dance. The music was rich about me. I danced, as the slave I was. "Here, slut, here!" called more than one man. I teased them, dancing close to them, swaying, my belly alive for them, with the jangling metal pieces, the anklets clashing on my ankles, the bracelets sliding and ringing on my wrists, and then as they attempted to seize me, drew back, backing away, or whirled, with a swirl of beads, away from them. I

22) Dancer of Gor pgs: 190-196

22 - basic of dance/how to dance

There is nothing coy or teasing about a Gorean dancer if the dance is of the scrolls. the girl wishes to be taken, wishes to please, she wishes to "excite them, and twist them with torments of desire, and make them gasp and scream with pleasure! ... They would not compromise with a woman like me. They would want her too much. They would throw her to their feet. They would dominate and master me, mercilessly! I was a female. In the arms of no other sort of man could I be fulfilled! ... what an excellent slut, what superb slave meat...."


22) Dancer of Gor pgs: 192

23

“Treasure your silly virginity,” said Tupita, “for you will not have it long.”
“Red-silk slut!” I said to her, angrily, adding, “Mistress.”
“By tomorrow,” said Tupita, “you, too, will be only a red-silk slut.”

22) Dancer of Gor pgs: 198

24

“There is now a red-silk ribbon on your collar, Doreen,” said Tupita. “What is the meaning of that?”
“That I have been red-silked, Mistress,” I said.
“Yes,” said Tupita.
“Close the curtain, Mistress!” I begged.
“Why?” asked Tupita. “Are you modest?”
“No, Mistress,” I sobbed. Slaves are not permitted modesty.
“You are now only a red-silk slut, Doreen,” she said, “no different from the rest of us!”

22) Dancer of Gor pgs: 210

25 - dance of contrition/placatory dance

There are many forms of placatory dances which are performed by female slaves. Some of these tend to have rather fixed forms, sanctioned by customs and tradition. such as the stately "Contrition Dance" of Turia. Some form of placatory dance is usually taught to the girl in slave training. There is no telling when it might be needed. Though I had had, because of the relatively advanced state of my dancing skills, for a new slave, very little instruction in dance in the house of my first training, I had been taught at least that much. The form of placatory dance taught to a girl usually depends on the girl in question. For example, I had not been taught the stately "Contrition Dance" of Turia. It had been felt that the nature of my body lent itself to a more desperate , needful, lascivious form of dance. I had been taught how to dance on my knees, for example, and supplicatingly, on my back, and belly. Most placatory dances, however, are not fixed-form dances, but are "free" dances, in which the slave exquisitely alert to the nuances of the situation, the particular Master, the nature of his displeasure, the gravity of her offense, and such, improvises, doing her best to assuage his anger and beg his forgiveness, to reassure him of the authenticity of her contrition and the genuineness of her desire to do better. "Hot Sand will do, Master," I said, "and chains in which my limbs are enclosed." "Yes," he said. I saw I did not need to fear him, save in the ways any slave must fear a Master. I danced then to those whose eyes were hardest. Some of them were not even men I had trapped, but only men who knew what I had done. Some may have been as innocent as those I had lured others might have been murders and brigands, suitably enchained for the expiration of sentences, their custody having been legally transferred to Ionicus, my Master, at the payment of a prisoners fee, by the writ of a praetor or, in more desperate cases, by the order of a quaestor. I danced abjectly. I danced piteously. I danced beggingly. I danced as well as I could. I could not do more. They would either be pleased or not. My fate was in their hands. "She is pretty," said one of them. "Yes," said another. Hope sprang again high within me. I sought them to move another, with my helplessness, and the pleas of my body. "Are you a good slave lay?" asked a man. "It is my hope that I am pleasing, Master," I said. "Surely I shall endeavor to be so." He grinned. "She is an excellent dancer," commented a man, another whom I had lured in Argentum. "Yes," said another fellow, another of those who owned his chaining to me. I began to be conscious then, as I sometimes was, of the incredible power of the female slave, of how helpless men could be before her, and of what she could do to them. "Ah," said one of the men, softly, watching. I repeated the movement. "Yes," said another man. "Yes!" said another. How paradoxical I thought, that she who is branded, and collared, and owned, is nothing, should have such power! "Dance, slut, dance!" said a man. And then again I danced, helplessly, piteously, suing for their favor, striving desperately to be found pleasing. In the end the power belongs to the master, totally, and not to the slave. She is his. Excellent," said a man. "Excellent." I danced. I danced in such a way that a free woman might only dream of, awakening, sweating, in the night, clutching her covers, in terror, then feeling her throat with trepidation, with the tips of frightened fingers, to ascertain that no collar has been locked on it in the night. ;How could she, a free woman, have such a dream? What could it mean? And what would the men do to her when they came to take her in their arms? She awakened, in terror. Perhaps she hurries to strike a light in her room. The familiar surroundings reassure her. She has had such dreams before. ;What could they mean? Nothing, of course. Nothing! Such dreams must be meaningless! They must be! but what if they were not? She shudders. Perhaps she then, in her long silke

22) Dancer of Gor pgs: 333-335

26

“How did the keeper seem when he ordered you shackled and put in the paga room?” I asked.
“Amused,” she said, angrily.
Perhaps you had spoken up to him,” I speculated, “though you were only a debtor slut.”
“Such is my right!” she said. “I am a free woman!”
“You dared to protest the treatment you received?” I asked.
“Of course!” she cried. “How is it that a free woman, should be stripped, and searched, and put in a cage, and such!”
“Perhaps you made demands, threatened him, insulted him, that sort of thing?” I asked.
“Perhaps,” she said.
“I can see then,” I said, “why it might have amused him to put you here, to serve as a waitress.”
“Perhaps,” she said, angrily.

23) Renegades of Gor pgs: 68

27

"The check is to be paid, or put on the bill, I gather, at the keeper's desk," I said. One had to pass the keeper's desk after leaving the paga room. That arrangement, I supposed, was no accident. For example, it would save the posting of one employee, which was perhaps a calculated economy on the part of the proprietor. I would not have put it past him, at any rate. Too, in virtue of this arrangement, one need not entrust coins to debtor sluts, slaves, and such. In this house I suspected that they would not be permitted to so much as touch a coin. They would be kept coinless, absolutely.

23) Renegades of Gor pgs: 75

28 - Tina's Hope/love danceof new slave

'May the melody also be,' said she, 'one in which a slave may be well displayed.' 'A block melody?' asked the flutist, addressing his question to Philebus. 'No,' said Philebus, 'nothing so sensuous. Rather, say, the 'Hope of Tina.' Approval from the crowd met tthis proposal. The 'Hope of Tina,' a melody of Cos which would surely be popular with most of the fellows present, was an excellent choice. It was supposedly the expression of the yearning, or hope, of a young girl that she may be so beautiful, and so feminine, and marvelous, that she will prove acceptable as a slave. 'Why do you wish to dance before me?' asked the burly fellow of the slave. 'Did Master not wish to see a woman dance?' she asked. He regarded her, puzzled. It was clear he did not recall her, but also clear, for he was no fool, that he suspected more was afoot that a mere compliance with a masterly whim, even though such whims, for the slave, in many contexts, constitute orders of iron. To be sure, Temione was not a dancer, not in the strict trained sense, but she could move, and marvelously, and so, somehow, she did, swaying before him, and turning, but usually facing him, as though she wished not to miss an expression or an emotion that might cross his countenance. Yet, too, uncompromisingly, she was one with the music, and, particularly in the beginning, with the story, seeming to examine her own charms, timidly, as it, like the 'Tina' of the song, she might be considering her possible merits, whether of not she might qualify for bondage, whether or not she might somehow prove worthy of it, if only, perhaps, by inward compensations of zeal and love, whether or not she might, with some justification, aspire to the collar. Then later it seemed she danced her slavery openly, unabashedly, sensuously, so slowly, and so excitingly, before the men and, in particular, before the burly fellow. Surely now, all doubts resolved, there was no longer a question about the suitability of bondage for such a woman. The collar looked well on her neck. It belonged there. There was no doubt about it. How she looked at the burly fellow! He was now so taken with her he could hardly move. Now the exquisite slut began to sense her power, that of her beauty and desirability. She had determined, I now realized, from the first movement she had leaped to her feet, obedient to the command of her master, Philebus, that she would make test of her womanhood, that she would, courageously, regardless of the consequences, risking contempt and perhaps even punishment, display herself before him, this rude fellow who had once so scorned and tyrannized her as a free woman, as what she now was, ultimately and solely, female and slave. To be sure, she, new to her slavery, had perhaps not fully realized that she had really no choice in the matter but, willingly or not, must do so, and to the best of her ability, in total perfection

24) Vagabonds of Gor pgs: 37-40

29 - define

'Is Master angry with the slave?' she asked.
He smiled. He cracked the whip once, visciously. She drew back. fearfully.
'Use it on her well, Borton, my friend,' said Philebus. 'It is well deserved by any slut and perhaps particularly so by one such as she. Did she not part her silk without permission? Did she not put herself to the dirt before you, unbidden? Did she not speak at least once without permission, either implicit or explicit?'

24) Vagabonds of Gor pgs: 45-46

30

“We must place our trust in the Priest-Kings,” said a man. Across from us, about seven feet away, on the other side of the narrow street, was the free woman who had secured her robes, that they might not touch an Initiate. She rose to her feet, looking after the procession. We could still hear the bells. The smell of incense hung in the air. Near the free woman was a female slave, in a short gray tunic. She, too, had been caught, like Phoebe, in the path of the procession. She had knelt with her head down to the street, the palms of her hands on the stones, making herself small, in a common position of obeisance. The free woman looked down at her. As the girl saw she was under the scrutiny of a free person she remained on her knees. “You sluts have nothing to fear,” said the free woman to her, bitterly. “It is such as I who must fear.” The girl did not answer. There was something in what the free woman had said, though in the frenzy of a sacking, the blood of the victors racing, flames about, and such, few occupants of a fallen city, I supposed, either free or slave, were altogether safe. “It will only be a different collar for you,” said the free woman. The girl looked up at her. She was a lovely slave I thought, a red-haired one. She kept her knees tightly together before the free woman. Had she knelt before a man she would probably have had to keep them open, even if they were brutally kicked apart, a lesson to her, to be more sensitive as to before whom she knelt. “Only a different collar for you!” cried the free woman, angrily. The girl winced, but dared not respond. To be sure, I suspected, all things considered, that the free woman was right. Slave girls, as they are domestic animals, are, like other domestic animals, of obvious value to victors. It is unlikely that they would be killed, any more than tharlarion or kaiila. They would be simply chained together, for later distribution or sale. Then the free woman, in fury, with her small, gloved hand, lashed the face of the slave girl, back and forth, some three or four times. She, the free woman, a free person, might be trampled by tharlarion, or be run through, or have her throat cut, by victors. Such things were certainly possible. On the other hand, the free women of a conquered city, or at least the fairest among them, are often reckoned by besiegers as counting within the yield of prospective loot. Many is the free female in such a city who has torn away her robes before enemies, confessed her natural slavery, disavowed her previous masquerade as a free woman, and begged for the rightfulness of the brand and collar. This is a scene which many free women have enacted in their imagination. Such things figure, too, in the dreams of women, those doors to the secret truths of their being. The free woman stood there, the breeze in the street, as evening approached, ruffling the hems of her robes. The free woman put her fingers to her throat, over the robes and veil.
She looked at the slave, who did not dare to meet her eyes.
“What is it like to be a slave?” she asked.
“Mistress?” asked the girl, frightened.
“What is it like, to be a slave?” asked the free woman, again.
“Much depends on the master, beautiful Mistress,” said the girl. The slave could not see the face of the free woman, of course, but such locutions, “beautiful Mistress,” and such, on the part of slave girls addressing free women, are common. They are rather analogous to such things as “noble Master,” and so on. They have little meaning beyond being familiar epithets of respect.
“The master?” said the free woman, shuddering.
“Yes, Mistress,” said the girl.
“You must do what he says, and obey him in all things?” asked the free woman.
“Of course, Mistress,” said the girl. “He is the Master.”
“You may go,” said the free woman.
“Thank you, Mistress!” said the girl, and leaped to her feet, scurrying away.
The free woman looked after the slave. Then she looked across at us, and at Phoebe, who lowered her eyes, quickly. Then, shuddering, she turned about and went down the street, to our left, in the direction from whence the Initiates had come.

25) Magicians of Gor pgs: 18-19

31 - buy me dance

There were now some four or five girls in the circle. One wore a sign that said, "I am for sale." The girl who wore the sign, "I am for sale," danced before us, as she had before others, displaying her Master's proffered merchandise. I saw that she wanted to be purchased. that was obvious in the pleading nature of her dance. Her Master was perhaps a dealer, and one, as are many, who is harsh with his stock. Her dance, thusly, was rather like the "Buy me, Master" behavior of a girl on a chain, the "slaver's necklace," or in the market, he sort of behavior in which she begs purchase. A girl on such a chain, or in a market, who is to much passed over has reason for alarm. Not only is she likely to be lowered on the chain, perhaps even to "last girl," which is demeaning to her, and a great blow to her vanity, but she is likely to be encouraged to greater efforts by a variety of admonitory devices, in particular, the switch and whip. Earth-girl slaves brought to Gor, for example, are often, particularly at first, understandably enough, I suppose, afraid to be sold, and accordingly, naturally enough, I suppose, sometimes attempt, sully in subtle ways, to discourage buyers, thereby hoping to be permitted to cling to the relative security of the slaver's chain. Needless to say, this behavior is soon corrected and, in a short time, only to eager now to be off the slaver's chain, they are displaying themselves, and proposing themselves, luscious, eager, ready, begging merchandise, to prospective buyers. The girl for sale was a short legged brunet, extremely attractive. I considered buying her, but decided against it. This was not the time for buying slaves. I gestured to her to dance on. She whirled away. A tear moved diagonally down her cheek. She might, of course, not belong to a dealer. There are many reasons why a master might put his girl, or girls, up for sale, of course. He might wish, for example, if he is a breeder, to improve the quality of his pens or kennels, trying out new blood lines, freshening his stock, and such. He might wish, casually, merely to try out new slaves, perhaps ridding himself of one to acquire another, who may have caught his eye. Perhaps he wants to keep a flow of slaves in his house, lest he grow to attached to one, always a danger. Too, of course, economic considerations sometimes become paramount, these sometimes dictating the selling off of chattels, whose value, of course, unlike that of a free woman, constitutes a source of possible income. Indeed, there are many reasons for the buying and selling of slaves, as there are for other forms of properties. I continued to watch the female, the sign about her neck dance. No, I said to myself, it would not do to bring her into peril. Then I chastised myself for weakness. One would not wish to purchase her, of course, because she might constitute encumbrance. Still, she was attractive. Even as I considered the matter she received a sign from a fellow, her Master, I suppose, and she tore open her silk, and danced even more plaintively before one fellow and then another. She seemed frightened. I suspected she had been warned as to what might befall her ifs he should prove unsuccessful in securing a buyer. I saw her glance at her Master. His gaze was stern, unpitying, She danced in terror. I saw that the girl with the sign about her neck had taken a leaf from the book of the blonde, and cunningly, too. ; She, too was now on her knees, advertising her charms, attesting mutely to the joys and delicacies that would be attendant upon her ownership. ; I saw her owner look at her, startled. She, of course, did not see him. I gathered he had never seen her in just this fashion or way before, her silk parted, writhing on her knees, kissing, lifting her hands, her head moving, her hair flung about. "I will buy her!" called a fellow. "How much do you want?" inquired another, eagerly. her Master rushed into the circle. "Close your silk, lascivious slut!" he ordered her. Swiftly she clutched the silk about her, startled, confused, kneeli

25) Magicians of Gor pgs: 43-47

32

We then returned our attention to the dancing circle. New women entered it upon occasion, as others were withdrawn. There were now some ten to fifteen slaves in the circle. How beautiful are women!
“How disgusting,” said a free woman, nearby. I had not noticed her standing there until now.
“Be gone, slut!” said a peasant.
The free woman gasped, and hurried away. Peasants are not always tolerant of gentlewomen.
. . .
I noted that the free female had gone a bit about the outside of the circle, and now stood there, back a bit from the circle, where there was a space between some men. From that position of vantage she continued to watch the dancers. This puzzled me. If she found such beauty, such sensuous liberation, such fulfilling joy, such reality, such honesty, the marvelousness of owned women before their masters, offensive or deplorable, why did she watch? What did she see there in the circle, I wondered.
What so drew her there, what so fascinated her there? Like most free women she was perhaps inhibited, frustrated and unhappy. She continued to gaze into the circle. Perhaps she saw herself there, clad in a rag and collar, if that, moving, turning with the others, like them so beautiful, so much alive, so vulnerable, so helpless, so owned. Does her master lift his whip? She must then redouble her efforts to please, lest she be lashed. I supposed that she, even there, standing so seemingly still, pretending to be a mere observer, could feel the dance in her body, in its myriad incipient movements, tiny movements in her legs, in her belly, in her body, in herself, in the wholeness of her womanhood. Perhaps she wished for her robes to be torn off and to be collared, and to be thrust, in her turn, into the circle. I did not doubt but what she would be zealous to please. Indeed, she had best be! But how strange that she, a free woman, would even linger in this place. Perhaps free women are incomprehensible. A Gorean saying came to mind, that the free woman is a riddle, the answer to which is the collar.
“Away!” called a fellow, who had turned about and seen the free woman. He waved his arm, angrily. “Away!” he said. The free woman then turned about and left the vicinity of the circle, hurriedly. I felt rather sorry for her, but then, I thought, surely the fellow was right, that the circle, or its vicinity, was no place for a free female. It was a place, rather, for the joy of masters and their slaves. Similarly, the vicinity of such places, though I did not think it would be so in this camp, at this particular time, can be dangerous for free women. For example, sometimes free women attempt, sometimes even disguising themselves, to spy on the doings of masters and slaves. For example, they might attempt, perhaps disguised as lads, to gain entrance to paga taverns. And often such entrance is granted them but later, to their horror, they may find themselves thrown naked to the dancing sand and forced to perform under whips. Similarly if they attempt to enter such establishments as pretended slaves they may find themselves leaving them by the back entrance, soon to become true slaves. In many cities, such actions, attempting to spy on masters and slaves, disguising oneself as a slave, garbing oneself as a slave, even in the supposed secrecy of one’s own compartments, lingering about slave shelves and markets, even exhibiting an interest in, or fascination with, bondage, can result in a reduction to bondage. The theory is apparently that such actions and interests are those of a slave, and that the female who exhibits them should, accordingly, be imbonded.

. . .
I have, more than once, I believe, alluded to the hatred of free women for their imbonded sisters, and to how they profess to despise them and hold them in contempt. Indeed, they commonly treat such slaves with what seems to be irrational and unwonted cruelty. This is particularly the case if the slave is beautiful, and of great interest to men. I have also suggested that this attitude of the free female toward the slave seems to be motivated, paradoxically enough, by envy and jealousy. In any event, slave girls fear free women greatly, as they, being mere slaves, are much at their mercy. Once in Ar, several years ago, several free women, in their anger at slaves, and perhaps jealous of the pleasures of masters and slaves, entered a paga tavern with clubs and axes, seeking to destroy it. This is, I believe, and example, though a rather extreme one, of a not unprecedented sort of psychological reaction, the attempt, by disparagement or action, motivated by envy, jealousy, resentment, or such, to keep from others pleasures which one oneself is unable, or unwilling, to enjoy. In any event, as a historical note, the men in the tavern, being Gorean, and thus not being inhibited or confused by negativistic, antibiological traditions, quickly disarmed the women. They then stripped them, bound their hands behind their back, put them of a neck rope, and, by means of switches, conducted them swiftly outside the tavern. The women were then, outside the tavern, on the bridge of twenty lanterns, forced to witness the burning of their garments. They were then permitted to leave, though still bound and in coffle. Gorean men do not surrender their birthright as males, their rightful dominance, their appropriate mastery. They do not choose to be dictated to by females. The most interesting portion of this story is its epilogue. In two or three days the women returned, mostly now barefoot, and many clad now humbly in low-caste garments. Some had even wrapped necklaces or beads about their left ankle. They begged permission to serve in the tavern in servile capacities, such as sweeping and cleaning. This was granted to them. At first the slaves were terrified of them but then, when it became clear that the women were not only truly serving humbly, as serving females, but that they now looked timidly up to the slaves, and desired to learn from them how to be women, and scarcely dared to aspire to their status, the fears of the slaves subsided, at least to a degree. Indeed, it was almost as though each of them, though perhaps a low girl in the tavern rosters, and much subject to the whip, had become “first girl” to some free woman or other, a rare turnabout in the lives of such collared wenches. Needless to say, in time, the free women, learning the suitable roles and lessons of womanhood, for which they had genetic predispositions, and aided by their lovely tutors, were permitted to petition for the collar. It was granted to them. It seems that this was what they had wanted all the time, though on a level not fully comprehensible to them at the beginning. One does not know what has become of them for, in time, as one might expect, they being of Ar, they were shipped out of the city, to be disposed of in various remote markets.

25) Magicians of Gor pgs: 49-52

33

At this point Lavinia swiftly knelt, her knees in proper position, that of the female slave who is used also for the pleasure of men, reach to her tunic, and from within it, from where she had concealed it, from where it rested, at her bosom, withdrew the note which she then held, her arm extended, to the handsome fellow. One of the other two strode forward to seize the note but Lavinia drew it back, clutched in her tiny fist, held it to her body, and shook her head vigorously, negatively. This note, it seemed, was to be delivered to the slave alone. The fellow reached for it again and she put down her head to the stones, rather as in common obeisance or in kneeling to the whip, holding the note beneath her. “No, Master!” she said. “Forgive me, Master!”
“Slut!” he cried, and kicked her, again.
“Hold,” said his fellow. “You are under orders?” he asked the slave.
“Yes, Master!” said the girl. “The note may be given to one, and one alone!”
“Very well,” said the second fellow.

25) Magicians of Gor pgs: 391-39