Gor

[SilksCrow]

Tal. Those familiar with the works of John Norman will know the significance of that greeting.

I am of the Tuchuk and roam the limitless plains of Gor under the three moons. My chain is empty, and I seek a doe-eyed kajira to run beside my kaiila, dance at my fire and warm my furs. On-line RP only. PM me if you desire the freedom of the kollar.


Say "La Kajira," I told her.
She looked at me, helplessly. Then she repeated "La Kajira."
"Again," I commanded.
"La Kajira," said the girl clearly, "La Kajira."
She had learned her first Gorean.
"What does it mean?" she asked.
"It means," I told her, "I am a slave girl."
"No!" she screamed. "No, no, no."

Nomads of Gor

 

[SilksCrow]

Clad Kajir

My thanks to those who have expressed their curiosity. You will understand that such decisions are not to be taken lightly and require thought and trial. I have room on my chain for one, perhaps at most two. I shall contact each curious girl and take their inquiries seriously . . . and decide by week's end.

Serve well,

SC

Among the Wagon Peoples, to be clad kajir means, for a girl, to wear four articles, two red, two black: a red cord, the Curla, is tied about the waist; the Chatka, or long, narrow strip of black leather, fits over this cord in the front, passes under, and then again, from the inside, passes over the cord in the back; the Chatka is drawn tight; the Kalmack is then donned; it is a short, open, sleeveless vest of black leather; lastly the Koora, a strip of red cloth, matching the Curla, is wound about the head, to hold the hair back, for slave women are not permitted to braid, or otherwise dress their hair.

I saw several girls, here and there, clad kajir; they were magnificent; they walked with the true brazen insolence of the slave girl, the wench who knows that she is owned, whom men have found beautiful enough, and exciting enough, to collar.

Nomads of Gor

 

[SilksCrow]

Freedom

I still encourage your curiosity, girl. Come . . . I do not bite . . . save to make you squirm.



"On Gor," I said, "the myths have it that only the woman who has been an utter slave can be truly free."

"I am not sure," she said, "that I understand the meaning of that."

"It has nothing to do, I think," I said, "with what woman is actually slave or free, has little to do with the simplicity of chains, or the collar, or the brand."

"Then what?" she asked.

"It means, I think," I said, "that only the woman who has utterly surrendered - and can utterly surrender - losing herself in a man's touch - can be truly a woman, and being what she is is then free."

Nomads of Gor

 

[SilksCrow]

Collared

girl, come. I camp in sight of the walled city. I will take you within, leashed, to the metal works and have you fitted with a slender collar, Turian style.


At a gesture from my Master I knelt. I did so in the manner in which I had been taught, back on my heels, back straight, hands on thighs, head high, chin up. I did not neglect a further detail. I spread my knees, widely. It was the posture, of course, as I would later learn, of the Gorean pleasure slave. Such a girl, in kneeling, does not close her knees before a free man.

Slave Girl of Gor

 

[SilksCrow]

Training

Have you slave curves, girl? Is there an unquenchable fire in your belly? 'Tis not enough. You must be trained to be pleasing in every manner.

I watched her approach him, head down, on her hands and knees, her breasts depending beautifully. Then she dropped the whip from her teeth before his booted feet. She then remained there, head down, in position. "Better," he said. He then picked up the whip and tossed it across the tiles. "Again," he said. She the rose lightly to her feet and hurried to the whip, where, once more, she dropped to her hands and knees. She picked up the whip delicately in her teeth, and looked at him. He snapped his fingers. Again, then, head down, she approached him, the whip held in her mouth.

Kajira of Gor

 

[SilksCrow]

Serve well

Serve well, girl . . . in every detail and with all your being. Else, you will find yourself on the bock.


Suddenly, snapping the whip, he said, harshly, "On your back, one knee lifted, the other leg extended, hands over you head, wrists close, as though confined in slave bracelets." I complied. Then he began to put me rapidly through the paces of the exhibited female slave; he held me in each position for the sweet instant that well revealed me, tantalizingly, in that attitude or posture, and then barked forth a new command to a new position or attitude. The sequence of these moves was not an accident. Each followed easily, sometimes by a roll or turn, from the preceding position; shrewd rhythm and flow, calculated and sensual, physically melodious, characterized the performance humiliatingly inflicted upon me; I must submit to the choreography of Gorean slave display. I lay on my belly at his feet, as I had begun. I was trembling; I was covered with sweat; my hair was loose about my head and eyes; I felt the auctioneer's foot upon my body; I put my head to the block

 

[SilksCrow]

Admit it, girl

Denying who you are profits you not. Come . . . I will show you the way.


In the filtered moonlight she lifted her head. "I did not know such men could exist," she whispered, again so softly that she might not awaken me. She pulled toward me, on her knees, her wrists extended behind her, tethered to the slave post. "Even to look upon them," she whispered, "makes the slave in me scream for fulfillment." She sobbed and half choked. "How terrible I am. It is fortunate that my tether is so short. I want to crawl to you and please you with my tongue and mouth. I hope that you would not beat me, if I so disturbed your rest." She was silent for a moment and then said, so softly I could scarcely hear it, "I admit that men are my masters. I admit that I am a slave. I beg my master for his touch."

I did not move. Slowly, softly, she crept back to the vicinity of the slave post, and lay down. I heard her sob, softly. I smiled to myself. She had come far this night. She had uttered slave admissions, though so softly that she thought I could not hear, and in a language she thought I could not understand.

Explorers of Gor