Post by adreannaTal{fb} on Jan 4, 2011 16:13:04 GMT -5
~Tribesmen of Gor~
Written by John Norman
Copyright 1976 by John Norman
(Daw Books, Inc.)
~Back Cover~
The Others were on the move! The Priest-Kings had received a message: "Surrender Gor".
The date had been set for conquest or destruction.
Tarl Cabot could no longer linger in Port Kar -- now he must act on behalf of the Priest-Kings, on behalf of Gor, and on behalf of Gor's teeming, unsuspecting, twin world known as Earth
Evidence pointed to the great wasteland of the Tahari, the desert known only to the clannish, militant tribes of desert-wanderers. There must Cabot go. There among the feuds, along the trails of slavers, beyond the forbidding salt mines to a rendezvous with treachery, with a woman warlord, with a bandit chief, and with the monster intelligences from the worlds of steel.
John Norman at his best!
~Inside~
From the trackless vastnesses of the great desert of the Tahari three messages came to the stronghold of Tarl Cabot in Port Kar.
One message, conveyed on the person of a slave girl, said beware of Abdul. Cabot knew no one of that name.
One message, carried by a hawk-faced desert chieftain, told of a warning, found scratched on a rock in the wilderness, to beware of a steel tower. Cabot knew of no such tower.
The last, conveyed by a fellow sea captain, was that the Priest-Kings had received an ultimatum to surrender Gor.
And Tarl Cabot, who had thought that he would no longer have to serve the inhuman Priest-Kings, now realized that this time he must go again--because now not one man's fortune but a whole world was at stake.
~Quotations from the book, Tribesmen of Gor~
********************************************************************************************
"The girl wore Gorean dancing silk. It hung low upon her bared hips, and fell to her ankles. It was scarlet, diaphanous. A front corner of the silk was taken behind her and thrust, loose and draped, into the rolled silk knotted about her hips; a back corner of the silk was drawn before her and thrust loosely, draped, into the rolled silk at her right hip."
~Tribesmen of Gor, page 8~
"You are a slave," I said, "you are owned. You are female. You will be forced to be a woman. If you were free, and Gorean, you might be permitted by men to remain as you are, but you are neither Gorean nor free. The Gorean man will accept no compromise on your femininity, not from a slave. She will be what he wishes, and that is a woman, fully and his. If necessary you will be whipped, or starved. You may fight your Master. He will, if he wishes, permit this, to prolong your sport of your conquest, but in the end, it is you who are the slave; it is you who will lose. On Earth you had the society at your back, the result of centuries of feminization; he could not so much as speak harshly to you but you could rush away or summon magistrates; here however, society is not at your back, but at his; it will abet him in his wishes, for you are only a slave; you will have no one to call, no where to run; you will be alone with him, and at his mercy. Further, he has not been conditioned with counterinstinctual value sets, programmed with guilt, taught self-hatred; he has been taught pride and has, in the very air he breathes, imbided the mastery of females. These are different men. They are not Earthlings. They are Goreans. They are strong, and they are hard, and they will conquer you. For a man of Earth, you might never be a woman. For a man of Gor, I assure you, my dear, sooner or later you will be."
~Tribesman Of Gor, page 12~
"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 to 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, page 17~
A stimulation cage is an ornately barred, low-ceilinged cage; it is rather roomy, except for the low ceiling, about five feet high. The girl cannot stand erect in it without her head inclined submissively ………. The accouterments of the stimulation-cell are also calculated with respect to their effect on the slave. There are brushes, perfumes, cosmetics, slave jewelries, heavy necklaces, armlets, bracelets and bangles; there is no clothing"
~Tribesmen of Gor, page 24~
"All eyes were on the dark-haired dancer, the skirt of diaphanous scarlet dancing silk low upon her hips." ~Tribesmen of Gor, page 25~
"On Gor, the female slave, desiring her master, yet sometimes fearing to speak to him, frightened that she may be struck, has recourse upon occasion to certain devices, the meaning of which is generally established and culturally well understood.
I shall mention two such devices:
There is, first, the bondage knot. Most Gorean slave girls have long hair. The bondage knot is a simple looped knot tied in the girl’s hair and worn at the side of her right cheek or before her right shoulder. The girl approaches the master naked and kneels, the bondage knot soft, curled, fallen at the side of her right cheek or before her right shoulder. Another device, common in Port Kar, is for the girl to kneel before the master and put her head down and lift her arms, offering him fruit, usually a larma, or a yellow Gorean peach, ripe and fresh. These devices, incidentally, may be used even by a slave girl who hates her master but whose body, trained to love, cannot endure the absence of the masculine caress."
~Tribesman of Gor, pages 27 & 28~
"I smelled verminium oil.
The petals of veminium, the “Desert Verminium,” purplish, as opposed to the “Thentis Veninium,” bluish, which flower grows at the edge of the Tahari, gathered in shallow baskets and carried to a still, are boiled in water. The vapor which boils off is condensed into oil. This oil is used to perfume water. This water is not drunk but is used in middle and upper-class homes to rinse the eating hand, before and after the evening meal."
~Tribesmen of Gor, page 50~
"Straighten your body, Slave," I told her.
Frightened, Miss Blake-Allen straightened her back , and lifted her head. She knelt back on her heels, knees wide, hands on her thighs. It was the position of the Pleasure Slave. I had taught her the position. It is one of the first things a good-looking woman, fallen slave, is taught on Gor."
~Tribesmen of Gor, page 53~
"The first Gorean words the Earth girl had been taught, and she had learned them in the pens of Samos of Port Kar, were "La Kajira," which means "I am a slave girl."
~Tribesmen of Gor, page 74~
"I pointed to the stones at my feet. "Crawl," I said in Gorean.
The girl slipped to her belly, and, as a slave girl, crawled to my feet. She put her lips to my foot; I felt her hair over it"
~Tribesmen of Gor, page 78~
"Low on her hips she wore, on a belt of rolled cloth, yellow dancing silk."
~Tribesman of Gor, page 87~
"From one side a slave girl, barefoot, bangled, in sashed diaphanous, trousered chalwar, gathered at the ankles, in tight, red-silk vest, with bare midriff, fled to him."
~Tribesmen of Gor, page 88~
"At a languid gesture from Ibn Saran, Alyena lifted herself from the scarlet tiles, gracefully turning from her side to her knees, and then, head back, hair to the floor, slowly, inch by melodic protesting inch, arms before her body, lifted herself to a kneeling position, erect, the last bit of her to rise being her head, with a swirl of her blond, loose hair. Then, looking to Ibn Saran, suddenly she bent forward, as though impulsively, as though she could not help herself, and, hands on the tiles, head down, kissed the tiles at his feet, before his slippers. She looked up at him. I gathered she wanted to be bought by him. He was her "rich man." He lifted his finger for her to rise. Her right leg thrust forth, brazenly, and then, from her kneeling position, slowly, hands above her head, moving, high, she rose swaying to her feet.
"May I strip your slave?" inquired Ibn Saran.
"Of course," I said.
He nodded to the girl. To the music she unhooked her slave halter of yellow silk and, as though contemptuously, discarded it. I saw she was excited to see his interest in her. Only too obviously was she interested in him making a purchase of her. The churning of milk and the pounding of grain were not for lovely Alyena. That was for ugly girls and free women. She was too desirable, too, beautiful, to be set to such labors.
Alyena, now, slowly, disengaged the dancing silk from her hips, yet held it, moving it on and about her body, by her hands, taunting the reclining, languid, heavy-lidded Ibn Saran, to whom she knew, at his slightest gesture, she must bare herself.
He regarded her veil work; she was skillful; he was a connoisseur of slave girls.
At a signal from Ibn Saran, Alyena drew the veil about her body, and around it, and, with one small hand, threw it aside. She stood boldly before him, arms lifted, head to the side, right leg flexed. The veil, floating, wafted away, a dozen feet from her, and gently, ever so gently, settled to the tiles. Then, to the new melodic line, she danced.
Alyena now to a swirl of music spun before us, swept helpless with it, bangles clashing, to its climax.
Then she stopped, marvelously, motionlessly, as the music was silent, her head back, her arms high, her body covered with sweat, and then, to the last swirl of the barbaric melody, fell to the floor at the feet of Ibn Saran. I noted the light hair on her forearms. She gasped for breath.
Ibn Saran, magnanimously, gestured that she might rise, and she did so, standing before him, head high, breathing deeply."
~Tribesman of Gor, pages 104 to 108~
"I am coming with you," I said.
"Save yourself," said he.
"I am coming with you," I said.
"We have not even shared salt," he said.
"I shall accompany you," I said. He looked at me, for a long time. Then he thrust back the sleeve of his right hand. I pressed my lips to the back of his right wrist, tasting there, in the sweat, the salt. I extended to him the back of my right wrist, and he put his lips and tongue to it.
"Do you understand this?" he asked.
"I think so," I said.
"Follow me," said he. "We have work to do, my brother."
~Tribesmen of Gor, page 184, 185~
"Love on Gor does not purchase a girl lenience; it does not mitigate her bondage, nor compromise her servitude, but rather renders it the more complete, the more helpless and abject."
~Tribesmen of Gor, Page 214~
“You are of the Warriors,” said he. “You have their stupidity, their grit, their courage.”
~Tribesmen of Gor, page 227~
"I smelled the slave perfume. I recalled it from the palace of Suleiman Pasha, when the girl, with Zaya, the other slave had served black wine. A rich master will often have individual perfumes specially blended and matched to the slave nature of his various girls. All are slaves, completely, but each girl, collared, imbonded, is deliciously different. Some slave perfumes are right for some slaves, and others not, Vella’s perfume, I thought, doubtless a tribute to the skills of some perfumer, had suited her superbly. It fitted her well, like a measured collar."
~Tribesmen of Gor, page 230~
"A talu is approximately two gallons."
~Tribesmen of Gor, page 242~
"He sat crossed-legged, with his companion. Betweeen them they had, in the crusts, scratched a board for Zar. This resembles the Kaissa board. Pieces, however, may be placed only on the intersections of lines either within or at the edges of the board. Each player has nine pieces of equal value which are originally placed on the intersections of the nine interior vertical lines with what would be the rear horizontal line, constituted by the back edge of the board, from each player's point of view. The corners are not used in the original placement, thought they constitute legitimate move points after play begins. The pieces are commonly pebbles, or bits of verr dung, and sticks. The "pebbles" move first. Pieces move one intersection at a time, unless jumping. One may jump either the opponent's pieces or one's own. A jump must be made to an unoccupied point. Multiple jumps are permissible. The object is to effect a complete exchange of original placements. The first player to fully occupy the opponent's initial position wins. Capturing, of course, does not occur. The game is one of stategy and maneuverability."
~Tribesman of Gor, page 265~
"The Gorean day consists of twenty Ahn; the Gorean Ahn, or hour, of forty Ehn, or minutes; the Ehn consists of eighty Ihn, or seconds. An Ihn is slightly less than an Earth second."
~Tribesmen of Gor, page 352~
"Assume the posture of female submission" I told her. She did so, kneeling back on her heels, her arms extended, wrists crossed, her head between them, down. She was weeping/"
~Tribesmen of Gor, page 359~
"I took her to the branding chamber, threw her into the device, and locked it on her thigh. Hassan was there and the iron was already hot………"Do you wish to mark her?" asked Hassan. "Yes," I said. I would place the mark on her left thigh, above that of the four bosk horns. It would be the common Gorean female slave mark, fitting for a low girl, such as she, one who had not been fully pleasing.
I held up the iron, white hot, for the girl's inspection.
"You will soon be branded, Girl," I told her.
"Don't brand me!" she cried. "Please don't brand me!" She wept.
Hassan regarded her with interest
"We are now ready," I told her.
She looked at me, then at the glowing, white-hot marking surface of the iron. She watched it with horror, as it approached her
I held it poised at her thigh.
"Don't!" she cried. "Don't!"
"You are now to be branded, Slave Girl," I told her. "No," she screamed. Then I branded her. For five long Ihn I held the iron, pressing it in. I watched it sink in her thigh, smoking and crackling and hissing. It was a larger brand than that of the four bosk horns; I made sure it marked her more deeply. We three, Hassan, I and the girl, smelled the marked, burned slave flesh of her. Then, swiftly, cleanly, I withdrew it. Her head was back. She was screaming and weeping. "A perfect brand," said Hassan. looking on. "Perfect!" I was pleased. Such a brand would be envied by other girls. It would improve the sleek little animal's value.
I removed the locking device, and spun loose the twist handles, releasing her thigh. I freed her of the snap bracelets. I carried her, naked, branded, weeping, to the small cell where I had thrown her tiny garment, to be retrieved later. I put her down on the straw. Her throat was bare, for I had, the preceding night, the collar of Ibn Saran removed from her throat.
"Assume the posture of female submission," I told her. She did so, kneeling back on her heels, her arms extended, wrists crossed, her head between them, down. She was weeping.
"Repeat after me," I told her, " "I, once Miss Elizabeth Cardwell, of the planet Earth-'"
"I, once Miss Elizabeth Cardwell of the planet Earth-" she said.
"'-herewith submit myself, completely and totally, in all things-'"
"-herewith submit myself, completely and totally, in all things-" she said.
"'-to him who is now known here as Hakim of Tor-'"
"-to him who is now known here a Hakim of Tor-" she said."
'-his girl, his slave, an article of his property, his to do with as he pleases-'"
"-his girl, his slave, an article of his property, his to do with as he pleases," she said.
Hassan handed me the collar. It was inscribed 'I am the property of Hakim of Tor'. I showed it to the girl. She could not read Taharic script. I read it to her. I put it about her neck. I snapped it shut.
"I am yours, Master," I said to the girl.
She looked up at me, tears in her eyes, her neck in my locked collar. "I am yours, Master," she said.
"Congratulations on your slave!" said Hassan. "She is lovely meat. Now I must attend to my own slave." He laughed, and left.
The girl sank to the straw, and looked up at me. Her eyes were soft with tears. She whispered. "I am yours now, Tarl." she said. "You own me, you truly own me."
"What is your name?" I asked.
"What ever master wishes." she whispered.
~Tribesmen of Gor, pages 358 & 359~
"What thrills you," I said, "is not the whip, not the iron, not the pain, but masculine domination. It is that to which you, unknown to yourself, are responding. What is not important is whether the Master whips you or not, but that you know he is fully capable of whipping you, and will, if you are not pleasing."
~Tribesmen of Gor, page 360~
Written by John Norman
Copyright 1976 by John Norman
(Daw Books, Inc.)
~Back Cover~
The Others were on the move! The Priest-Kings had received a message: "Surrender Gor".
The date had been set for conquest or destruction.
Tarl Cabot could no longer linger in Port Kar -- now he must act on behalf of the Priest-Kings, on behalf of Gor, and on behalf of Gor's teeming, unsuspecting, twin world known as Earth
Evidence pointed to the great wasteland of the Tahari, the desert known only to the clannish, militant tribes of desert-wanderers. There must Cabot go. There among the feuds, along the trails of slavers, beyond the forbidding salt mines to a rendezvous with treachery, with a woman warlord, with a bandit chief, and with the monster intelligences from the worlds of steel.
John Norman at his best!
~Inside~
From the trackless vastnesses of the great desert of the Tahari three messages came to the stronghold of Tarl Cabot in Port Kar.
One message, conveyed on the person of a slave girl, said beware of Abdul. Cabot knew no one of that name.
One message, carried by a hawk-faced desert chieftain, told of a warning, found scratched on a rock in the wilderness, to beware of a steel tower. Cabot knew of no such tower.
The last, conveyed by a fellow sea captain, was that the Priest-Kings had received an ultimatum to surrender Gor.
And Tarl Cabot, who had thought that he would no longer have to serve the inhuman Priest-Kings, now realized that this time he must go again--because now not one man's fortune but a whole world was at stake.
~Quotations from the book, Tribesmen of Gor~
********************************************************************************************
"The girl wore Gorean dancing silk. It hung low upon her bared hips, and fell to her ankles. It was scarlet, diaphanous. A front corner of the silk was taken behind her and thrust, loose and draped, into the rolled silk knotted about her hips; a back corner of the silk was drawn before her and thrust loosely, draped, into the rolled silk at her right hip."
~Tribesmen of Gor, page 8~
"You are a slave," I said, "you are owned. You are female. You will be forced to be a woman. If you were free, and Gorean, you might be permitted by men to remain as you are, but you are neither Gorean nor free. The Gorean man will accept no compromise on your femininity, not from a slave. She will be what he wishes, and that is a woman, fully and his. If necessary you will be whipped, or starved. You may fight your Master. He will, if he wishes, permit this, to prolong your sport of your conquest, but in the end, it is you who are the slave; it is you who will lose. On Earth you had the society at your back, the result of centuries of feminization; he could not so much as speak harshly to you but you could rush away or summon magistrates; here however, society is not at your back, but at his; it will abet him in his wishes, for you are only a slave; you will have no one to call, no where to run; you will be alone with him, and at his mercy. Further, he has not been conditioned with counterinstinctual value sets, programmed with guilt, taught self-hatred; he has been taught pride and has, in the very air he breathes, imbided the mastery of females. These are different men. They are not Earthlings. They are Goreans. They are strong, and they are hard, and they will conquer you. For a man of Earth, you might never be a woman. For a man of Gor, I assure you, my dear, sooner or later you will be."
~Tribesman Of Gor, page 12~
"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 to 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, page 17~
A stimulation cage is an ornately barred, low-ceilinged cage; it is rather roomy, except for the low ceiling, about five feet high. The girl cannot stand erect in it without her head inclined submissively ………. The accouterments of the stimulation-cell are also calculated with respect to their effect on the slave. There are brushes, perfumes, cosmetics, slave jewelries, heavy necklaces, armlets, bracelets and bangles; there is no clothing"
~Tribesmen of Gor, page 24~
"All eyes were on the dark-haired dancer, the skirt of diaphanous scarlet dancing silk low upon her hips." ~Tribesmen of Gor, page 25~
"On Gor, the female slave, desiring her master, yet sometimes fearing to speak to him, frightened that she may be struck, has recourse upon occasion to certain devices, the meaning of which is generally established and culturally well understood.
I shall mention two such devices:
There is, first, the bondage knot. Most Gorean slave girls have long hair. The bondage knot is a simple looped knot tied in the girl’s hair and worn at the side of her right cheek or before her right shoulder. The girl approaches the master naked and kneels, the bondage knot soft, curled, fallen at the side of her right cheek or before her right shoulder. Another device, common in Port Kar, is for the girl to kneel before the master and put her head down and lift her arms, offering him fruit, usually a larma, or a yellow Gorean peach, ripe and fresh. These devices, incidentally, may be used even by a slave girl who hates her master but whose body, trained to love, cannot endure the absence of the masculine caress."
~Tribesman of Gor, pages 27 & 28~
"I smelled verminium oil.
The petals of veminium, the “Desert Verminium,” purplish, as opposed to the “Thentis Veninium,” bluish, which flower grows at the edge of the Tahari, gathered in shallow baskets and carried to a still, are boiled in water. The vapor which boils off is condensed into oil. This oil is used to perfume water. This water is not drunk but is used in middle and upper-class homes to rinse the eating hand, before and after the evening meal."
~Tribesmen of Gor, page 50~
"Straighten your body, Slave," I told her.
Frightened, Miss Blake-Allen straightened her back , and lifted her head. She knelt back on her heels, knees wide, hands on her thighs. It was the position of the Pleasure Slave. I had taught her the position. It is one of the first things a good-looking woman, fallen slave, is taught on Gor."
~Tribesmen of Gor, page 53~
"The first Gorean words the Earth girl had been taught, and she had learned them in the pens of Samos of Port Kar, were "La Kajira," which means "I am a slave girl."
~Tribesmen of Gor, page 74~
"I pointed to the stones at my feet. "Crawl," I said in Gorean.
The girl slipped to her belly, and, as a slave girl, crawled to my feet. She put her lips to my foot; I felt her hair over it"
~Tribesmen of Gor, page 78~
"Low on her hips she wore, on a belt of rolled cloth, yellow dancing silk."
~Tribesman of Gor, page 87~
"From one side a slave girl, barefoot, bangled, in sashed diaphanous, trousered chalwar, gathered at the ankles, in tight, red-silk vest, with bare midriff, fled to him."
~Tribesmen of Gor, page 88~
"At a languid gesture from Ibn Saran, Alyena lifted herself from the scarlet tiles, gracefully turning from her side to her knees, and then, head back, hair to the floor, slowly, inch by melodic protesting inch, arms before her body, lifted herself to a kneeling position, erect, the last bit of her to rise being her head, with a swirl of her blond, loose hair. Then, looking to Ibn Saran, suddenly she bent forward, as though impulsively, as though she could not help herself, and, hands on the tiles, head down, kissed the tiles at his feet, before his slippers. She looked up at him. I gathered she wanted to be bought by him. He was her "rich man." He lifted his finger for her to rise. Her right leg thrust forth, brazenly, and then, from her kneeling position, slowly, hands above her head, moving, high, she rose swaying to her feet.
"May I strip your slave?" inquired Ibn Saran.
"Of course," I said.
He nodded to the girl. To the music she unhooked her slave halter of yellow silk and, as though contemptuously, discarded it. I saw she was excited to see his interest in her. Only too obviously was she interested in him making a purchase of her. The churning of milk and the pounding of grain were not for lovely Alyena. That was for ugly girls and free women. She was too desirable, too, beautiful, to be set to such labors.
Alyena, now, slowly, disengaged the dancing silk from her hips, yet held it, moving it on and about her body, by her hands, taunting the reclining, languid, heavy-lidded Ibn Saran, to whom she knew, at his slightest gesture, she must bare herself.
He regarded her veil work; she was skillful; he was a connoisseur of slave girls.
At a signal from Ibn Saran, Alyena drew the veil about her body, and around it, and, with one small hand, threw it aside. She stood boldly before him, arms lifted, head to the side, right leg flexed. The veil, floating, wafted away, a dozen feet from her, and gently, ever so gently, settled to the tiles. Then, to the new melodic line, she danced.
Alyena now to a swirl of music spun before us, swept helpless with it, bangles clashing, to its climax.
Then she stopped, marvelously, motionlessly, as the music was silent, her head back, her arms high, her body covered with sweat, and then, to the last swirl of the barbaric melody, fell to the floor at the feet of Ibn Saran. I noted the light hair on her forearms. She gasped for breath.
Ibn Saran, magnanimously, gestured that she might rise, and she did so, standing before him, head high, breathing deeply."
~Tribesman of Gor, pages 104 to 108~
"I am coming with you," I said.
"Save yourself," said he.
"I am coming with you," I said.
"We have not even shared salt," he said.
"I shall accompany you," I said. He looked at me, for a long time. Then he thrust back the sleeve of his right hand. I pressed my lips to the back of his right wrist, tasting there, in the sweat, the salt. I extended to him the back of my right wrist, and he put his lips and tongue to it.
"Do you understand this?" he asked.
"I think so," I said.
"Follow me," said he. "We have work to do, my brother."
~Tribesmen of Gor, page 184, 185~
"Love on Gor does not purchase a girl lenience; it does not mitigate her bondage, nor compromise her servitude, but rather renders it the more complete, the more helpless and abject."
~Tribesmen of Gor, Page 214~
“You are of the Warriors,” said he. “You have their stupidity, their grit, their courage.”
~Tribesmen of Gor, page 227~
"I smelled the slave perfume. I recalled it from the palace of Suleiman Pasha, when the girl, with Zaya, the other slave had served black wine. A rich master will often have individual perfumes specially blended and matched to the slave nature of his various girls. All are slaves, completely, but each girl, collared, imbonded, is deliciously different. Some slave perfumes are right for some slaves, and others not, Vella’s perfume, I thought, doubtless a tribute to the skills of some perfumer, had suited her superbly. It fitted her well, like a measured collar."
~Tribesmen of Gor, page 230~
"A talu is approximately two gallons."
~Tribesmen of Gor, page 242~
"He sat crossed-legged, with his companion. Betweeen them they had, in the crusts, scratched a board for Zar. This resembles the Kaissa board. Pieces, however, may be placed only on the intersections of lines either within or at the edges of the board. Each player has nine pieces of equal value which are originally placed on the intersections of the nine interior vertical lines with what would be the rear horizontal line, constituted by the back edge of the board, from each player's point of view. The corners are not used in the original placement, thought they constitute legitimate move points after play begins. The pieces are commonly pebbles, or bits of verr dung, and sticks. The "pebbles" move first. Pieces move one intersection at a time, unless jumping. One may jump either the opponent's pieces or one's own. A jump must be made to an unoccupied point. Multiple jumps are permissible. The object is to effect a complete exchange of original placements. The first player to fully occupy the opponent's initial position wins. Capturing, of course, does not occur. The game is one of stategy and maneuverability."
~Tribesman of Gor, page 265~
"The Gorean day consists of twenty Ahn; the Gorean Ahn, or hour, of forty Ehn, or minutes; the Ehn consists of eighty Ihn, or seconds. An Ihn is slightly less than an Earth second."
~Tribesmen of Gor, page 352~
"Assume the posture of female submission" I told her. She did so, kneeling back on her heels, her arms extended, wrists crossed, her head between them, down. She was weeping/"
~Tribesmen of Gor, page 359~
"I took her to the branding chamber, threw her into the device, and locked it on her thigh. Hassan was there and the iron was already hot………"Do you wish to mark her?" asked Hassan. "Yes," I said. I would place the mark on her left thigh, above that of the four bosk horns. It would be the common Gorean female slave mark, fitting for a low girl, such as she, one who had not been fully pleasing.
I held up the iron, white hot, for the girl's inspection.
"You will soon be branded, Girl," I told her.
"Don't brand me!" she cried. "Please don't brand me!" She wept.
Hassan regarded her with interest
"We are now ready," I told her.
She looked at me, then at the glowing, white-hot marking surface of the iron. She watched it with horror, as it approached her
I held it poised at her thigh.
"Don't!" she cried. "Don't!"
"You are now to be branded, Slave Girl," I told her. "No," she screamed. Then I branded her. For five long Ihn I held the iron, pressing it in. I watched it sink in her thigh, smoking and crackling and hissing. It was a larger brand than that of the four bosk horns; I made sure it marked her more deeply. We three, Hassan, I and the girl, smelled the marked, burned slave flesh of her. Then, swiftly, cleanly, I withdrew it. Her head was back. She was screaming and weeping. "A perfect brand," said Hassan. looking on. "Perfect!" I was pleased. Such a brand would be envied by other girls. It would improve the sleek little animal's value.
I removed the locking device, and spun loose the twist handles, releasing her thigh. I freed her of the snap bracelets. I carried her, naked, branded, weeping, to the small cell where I had thrown her tiny garment, to be retrieved later. I put her down on the straw. Her throat was bare, for I had, the preceding night, the collar of Ibn Saran removed from her throat.
"Assume the posture of female submission," I told her. She did so, kneeling back on her heels, her arms extended, wrists crossed, her head between them, down. She was weeping.
"Repeat after me," I told her, " "I, once Miss Elizabeth Cardwell, of the planet Earth-'"
"I, once Miss Elizabeth Cardwell of the planet Earth-" she said.
"'-herewith submit myself, completely and totally, in all things-'"
"-herewith submit myself, completely and totally, in all things-" she said.
"'-to him who is now known here as Hakim of Tor-'"
"-to him who is now known here a Hakim of Tor-" she said."
'-his girl, his slave, an article of his property, his to do with as he pleases-'"
"-his girl, his slave, an article of his property, his to do with as he pleases," she said.
Hassan handed me the collar. It was inscribed 'I am the property of Hakim of Tor'. I showed it to the girl. She could not read Taharic script. I read it to her. I put it about her neck. I snapped it shut.
"I am yours, Master," I said to the girl.
She looked up at me, tears in her eyes, her neck in my locked collar. "I am yours, Master," she said.
"Congratulations on your slave!" said Hassan. "She is lovely meat. Now I must attend to my own slave." He laughed, and left.
The girl sank to the straw, and looked up at me. Her eyes were soft with tears. She whispered. "I am yours now, Tarl." she said. "You own me, you truly own me."
"What is your name?" I asked.
"What ever master wishes." she whispered.
~Tribesmen of Gor, pages 358 & 359~
"What thrills you," I said, "is not the whip, not the iron, not the pain, but masculine domination. It is that to which you, unknown to yourself, are responding. What is not important is whether the Master whips you or not, but that you know he is fully capable of whipping you, and will, if you are not pleasing."
~Tribesmen of Gor, page 360~