“It was done by Tassa powder,” she said.
“It was tasteless, and effective,” I said.
“It shows up, of course,” I said, “in water.”
“It is meant to be mixed with red wine,” she said.
Fighting Slave of Gor pgs: 223
"In the courtyard below, I said, I was drugged. It was done by tassa powder, she said. It was tasteless, and effective, I said. Slavers sometimes use it, she said. It is well for a girl not to drink with a strange man, she laughed. It shows up, of course, I said, in water. It is meant to be mixed with red wine, she said."
Fighting Slave of Gor pgs: 224-224
Inside, in a previously prepared room, on a great table, were aligned two hundred goblets of wine. Each contained Tassa powder. When the pirates, unsuspecting, were within, and giving themselves to the wine, the door would be locked.
Guardsman of Gor pgs: 113
Tassa powder had doubtless been used on her. It is traceless, and effective.
Players of Gor pgs: 66
Throughout all that had transpired in the booth she had not regained consciousness. Tassa powder is efficient.
Players of Gor pgs 75
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Kaiila
The mount of the Wagon Peoples, unknown in the northern hemispheres of Gor, is the terrifying but beautiful kaiila. It is a silken, carnivourous, lofty creature, graceful, long-necked, smooth gaited. It is viviparous and undoubtedly mammalian, though there is no suckling of the young...The kaiila is extremely agile...normally stands about tweny to twenty-two hands at the shoulder, can cover as much as six hundred pasangs in a single day's riding. The head of the kaiila bears two large eyes, one on each side, but these eyes are triply lidded probably an adaptation to the environment which occasionally is wracked by severe storms of wind and dust; the adaptation, actually a transparent third lid, permits the animal to move as it wishes under conditions that force other prairie animals to back into the wind, or like the sleen, to burrow into the ground.
Nomads of Gor pgs: 13-14
The kaiila of these men were as tawny as the brown grass of the prairie, save for that of the man who faced me, whose mount was a silken, sable black...
Nomads of Gor pgs: 14
“Tal!” I called, lifting my hand, palm inward, in Gorean greeting.
As one man the four riders unstrapped their lances.
“I am Tarl Cabot,” I called. “I come in peace!”
I saw the kaiila tense, almost like larls, their flanks quivering, their large eyes intent upon me. I saw one of the long, triangular tongues dart out and back. Their long ears were laid back against the fierce, silken heads.
“Do you speak Gorean?” I called.
Nomads of Gor pgs: 15
"I saw the kaiila tense, almost like larls, their flanks quivering, their large eyes intent upon me. I saw one of the long, triangular tongues dart out and back. Their long ears were laid back against the fierce, silken heads."
Nomads of Gor pgs: 15
"...beneath the clawed paws of four squealing, snorting kaiila....
...the enraged, thundering kaiila, hissing and squealing, at a touch of the control straps, arrested their fierce charge, stopping themselves, tearing into the deep turf with suddenly emergent claws.
The children of the Wagon peoples are taught the saddle of the kaiila before the can walk."
Nomads of Gor pgs: 17
. . .the small horn bow of the Wagon Peoples can be used to advantage not only from the back of a kaiila but, like the crossbow, from such cramped quarters.
Nomads of Gor pgs: 31
I was about to press Kamchak on this matter when we heard a sudden shout and the squealing of kaiila from among the wagons. I heard then the shouts of men and the cries of women and children. Kamchak lifted his head intently, listening. Then we heard the pounding of a small drum and two blasts on the horn of a bosk.
Nomads of Gor pgs: 33
In the crowd, on the back of a kaiila, I noted the girl Hereena, of the First Wagon, whom I had seen my first day in the camp of the Tuchuks, she who had almost ridden down Kamchak and myself between the wagons. She was a very exciting, vital, proud girl and the tiny golden nose ring, against her brownish skin, with her flashing black eyes, did not detract from her considerable but rather insolent beauty. She, and others like her, had been encouraged and spoiled from childhood in all their whims, unlike most other Tuchuk women, that they might be fit prizes, Kamchak had told me, in the games of Love War. Turian warriors, he told me, enjoy such women, the wild girls of the Wagons. A young man, blondish-haired with blue eyes, unscarred, bumped against the girl's stirrup in the press of the crowd. She struck him twice with the leather quirt in her hand, sharply, viciously. I could see blood on the side of his neck, where it joins the shoulder.
Nomads of Gor pgs: 67
“If you win for us,” Albrecht said to her, grinning down from the saddle of the kaiila, “this night you will be given a silver bracelet and five yards of scarlet silk.”
Nomads of Gor pgs: 74
. . .the saber, incidentally, which would be somewhat more effective from kaiilaback, is almost unknown on Gor. . .
Nomads of Gor pgs: 123
“Ah, yes, weapons,” Kamchak was saying, “what shall it be the kaiila lance, a whip and bladed bola, perhaps the quiva?”
Nomads of Gor pgs: 123
“Surely you are aware,” said Saphrar, “that a slave cannot own property - any more than a kaiila, a tharlarion or sleen.”
“I am the richest woman in Turia!” she cried.
Saphrar reclined a bit more on his cushions. His little round pinkish face shone. He pursed his lips and then smiled. He poked his head forward and said, very quickly, “You are a slave!” He then giggled.
Aphris of Turia threw back her head and screamed.
“You do not even have a name,” hissed the little merchant.
It was true. Kamchak would undoubtedly continue to call her Aphris, but it would be now his name for her and not her own. A slave, not being a person in the eyes of Gorean law, cannot possess a name in his own right, any more than an animal. Indeed, in the eyes of Gorean law, unfortunately, slaves are animals, utterly and unqualifiedly at the disposition of their masters, to do with as he pleases.
Nomads of Gor pgs: 132
Aphris looked at him in fury, but then smiled. “Certainly,” she said and the proud Aphris of Turia, kneeling, bent forward, to eat the meat held in the hand of her master.
Kamchak’s laugh was cut short when she sank her fine white teeth into his hand with a savage bite. “Aiii!” he howled, jumping up and sticking his bleeding hand into his mouth, sucking the blood from the wound. Elizabeth had leaped up and so had I.
Aphris had sprung to her feet and ran to the side of the wagon where there lay the kaiila saddle with its seven sheathed quivas. She jerked one of the quivas from its saddle sheath and stood with the blade facing us. She was bent over with rage. Kamchak sat down again, still sucking his hand. I also sat down, and so, too, did Elizabeth Cardwell. We left Aphris standing there, clutching the knife, breathing deeply.
“Sleen!” cried the girl. “I have a knife!”
Kamchak paid her no attention now but was looking at his hand. He seemed satisfied that the wound was not serious, and picked up the piece of meat which he had dropped, which he tossed to Elizabeth, who, in silence, ate it. He then pointed at the remains of the overdone roast, indicating that she might eat it.
“I have a knife!” cried Aphris in fury.
Kamchak was now picking his teeth with a fingernail.
“Bring wine,” he said to Elizabeth, who, her mouth filled with meat, went and fetched a small skin of wine and a cup, which she filled for him. When Kamchak had drunk the cup of wine he looked again at Aphris. “For what you have done,” he said, “it is common to call for one of the Clan of Torturers.”
“I will kill myself first,” cried Aphris, posing the quiva over her heart.
Kamchak shrugged.
The girl did not slay herself. “No,” she cried, “I will slay you.”
“Much better,” said Kamchak, nodding. “Much better.”
“I have a knife!” cried out Aphris.
“Obviously,” said Kamchak. He then got up and walked rather heavily over to one wall of the wagon and took a slave whip from the wall.
He faced Aphris of Turia.
“Sleen!” she wept. She threw back her hand with the knife to rush forward and thrust it into the heart of Kamchak but the coil of the whip lashed forth and I saw its stinging tip wrap four times about the wrist and forearm of the Turian girl who cried out in sudden pain and Kamchak had stepped to the side and with a motion of his hand had thrown her off balance and then by the whip dragged her rudely over the rug to his feet. There he stepped on her wrist and removed the knife from her open hand. He thrust it in his belt.
“Slay me!” wept the girl. “I will not be your slave!”
But Kamchak had hauled her to her feet and then flung her back to where she had stood before. Dazed, holding her right arm, on which could be seen four encircling blazes of scarlet, she regarded him. Kamchak then removed the quiva from his belt and hurled it across the room until it struck in one of the poles of the frame supporting the wagon hides, two inches in the wood, beside the throat of the girl.
“Take the quiva,” said Kamchak.
The girl shook with fear.
“Take it,” ordered Kamchak.
She did so.
“Now,” he said, “replace it.”
Trembling, she did so.
“Now approach me and eat,” said Kamchak. Aphris of Turia did so, defeated, kneeling before him and turning her head delicately to take the meat from his hand. “Tomorrow,” said Kamchak, “you will be permitted after I have eaten to feed yourself.”
Nomads of Gor pgs: 141-142
If you attempt to leave the wagons at night they will sense you out and rip my pretty little slave girl in pieces.”
“It is true,” I warned Aphris of Turia.
“Nonetheless,” said Aphris, “I will escape.”
“But not tonight!” guffawed Kamchak.
“No,” said Aphris acidly, “not tonight.” Then she looked about herself, disdainfully at the interior of the wagon. Her gaze rested for a moment on the kaiila saddle which had been part of the spoils which Kamchak had acquired for Tenchika. In the saddle, in their sheaths, were seven quivas.
Aphris turned again to face Kamchak. “This slave,” she said, indicating Elizabeth, “would not give me anything to eat.”
“Kamchak must eat first, Slave,” responded Elizabeth.
“Well,” said Aphris, “he has eaten.”
Kamchak then took a bit of meat that was left over from the fresh-roasted meat that Miss Cardwell had prepared. He held it out in his hand. “Eat,” he said to Aphris, “but do not touch it with your hands.”
Aphris looked at him in fury, but then smiled. “Certainly,” she said and the proud Aphris of Turia, kneeling, bent forward, to eat the meat held in the hand of her master.
Kamchak’s laugh was cut short when she sank her fine white teeth into his hand with a savage bite.
“Aiii!” he howled, jumping up and sticking his bleeding hand into his mouth, sucking the blood from the wound.
Elizabeth had leaped up and so had I.
Aphris had sprung to her feet and ran to the side of the wagon where there lay the kaiila saddle with its seven sheathed quivas. She jerked one of the quivas from its saddle sheath and stood with the blade facing us. She was bent over with rage.
Kamchak sat down again, still sucking his hand. I also sat down, and so, too, did Elizabeth Cardwell.
We left Aphris standing there, clutching the knife, breathing deeply.
“Sleep!” cried the girl. “I have a knife!”
Kamchak paid her no attention now but was looking at his hand. He seemed satisfied that the wound was not serious, and picked up the piece of meat which he had dropped, which he tossed to Elizabeth, who, in silence, ate it. He then pointed at the remains of the overdone roast, indicating that she might eat it.
“I have a knife!” cried Aphris in fury.
Kamchak was now picking his teeth with a fingernail. “Bring wine,” he said to Elizabeth, who, her mouth filled with meat, went and fetched a small skin of wine and a cup, which she filled for him. When Kamchak had drunk the cup of wine he looked again at Aphris. “For what you have done,” he said, “it is common to call for one of the Clan of Torturers.”
“I will kill myself first,” cried Aphris, posing the quiva over her heart.
Kamchak shrugged.
The girl did not slay herself. “No,” she cried, “I will slay you.”
“Much better,” said Kamchak, nodding. “Much better.”
“I have a knife!” cried out Aphris.
“Obviously,” said Kamchak. He then got up and walked rather heavily over to one wall of the wagon and took a slave whip from the wall.
He faced Aphris of Turia.
“Sleen!” she wept. She threw back her hand with the knife to rush forward and thrust it into the heart of Kamchak but the coil of the whip lashed forth and I saw its stinging tip wrap four times about the wrist and forearm of the Turian girl who cried out in sudden pain and Kamchak had stepped to the side and with a motion of his hand had thrown her off balance and then by the whip dragged her rudely over the rug to his feet. There he stepped on her wrist and removed the knife from her open hand. He thrust it in his belt.
“Slay me!” wept the girl. “I will not be your slave!”
But Kamchak had hauled her to her feet and then flung her back to where she had stood before. Dazed, holding her right arm, on which could be seen four encircling blazes of scarlet, she regarded him. Kamchak then removed the quiva from his belt and hurled it across the room until it struck in one of the poles of the frame supporting the wagon hides, two inches in the wood, beside the throat of the girl.
“Take the quiva,” said Kamchak.
The girl shook with fear.
“Take it,” ordered Kamchak.
She did so.
“Now,” he said, “replace it.”
Trembling, she did so.
“Now approach me and eat,” said Kamchak. Aphris of Turia did so, defeated, kneeling before him and turning her head delicately to take the meat from his hand. “Tomorrow,” said Kamchak, “you will be permitted after I have eaten to feed yourself.”
Suddenly Elizabeth Cardwell said, perhaps unwisely. “You are cruel”
Kamchak looked at her in surprise. “I am kind,” he said.
“How is that?” I asked.
“I am permitting her to live,” he said.
“I think,” I said, “that you have won this night but I warn you that the girl from Turia will think again of the quiva and the heart of a Tuchuk warrior.”
“Of course,” smiled Kamchak, feeding Aphris, “she is superb.”
The girl looked at him with wonder.
“For a Turian slave,” he added. He fed her another piece of meat. “Tomorrow, Little Aphris,” said he, “I will give you something to wear.”
She looked at him gratefully.
“Bells and collar,” said he.
Tears appeared in her eyes.
Nomads of Gor pgs: 141-143
'...Come along,' he said. 'There is a new kaiila I want to see near the wagon of Yachi of the Leather Workers' Clan.'
Nomads of Gor pgs: 170
Among the animals I saw many verrs; some domestic tarsks, their tusks sheathed; cages of flapping vulos, some sleen, some kaiila, even some bosk; by the Paravaci haruspexes I saw manacled male slaves, if such were to be permitted; commonly, I understood from Kamchak, the Tuchuks, Kassars and Kataii rule out the sacrifice of slaves because their hearts and livers are thought to be, fortunately for the slaves, untrustworthy in registering portents; after all, as Kamchak pointed out, who would trust a Turian slave in the kes with a matter so important as the election of a Ubar San; it seemed to me good logic and, of course, I am sure the slaves, too, were taken with the cogency of the argument.
Nomads of Gor pgs: 171
When I handed Hereena to him the poor girl was shivering and moaning in terror, uncontrollably trembling. She, a girl of the plains, familiar with fierce kaiila, herself a proud, spirited wench, brave and daring, was yet like many women utterly for some reason terrified of a tarn.
Nomads of Gor pgs: 230
"You were beaten," I said, "because you ran away. Normally a girl who does what you did is maimed or thrown to sleen or kaiila, and that he touched you with the whip, the Slaver's Caress, that was only to show me, and perhaps you, that you were female."
Nomads of Gor pgs: 281
Some of the riders of the Steels, I recalled, seeing it among the belongings of Gladius of Cos, had jested with me about it, asking if it were a toy, or perhaps a training bow for a child; these men, of course, had never, on kaiila back, and it is just as well for them, met Tuchuks.
Assassin of Gor pgs: 366
A stimulation cage is an ornately barred, low ceilinged cage; it is rather room, except for the low ceiling, about five feet high. The girl cannot stand erect in it without her head inclined submissively. In such a cage, and in training, when not in such a cage, the girl who is housed in the stimulation cage is not permitted to look directly into the eyes of a male, even a male slave. This is designed, psychologically, to make the girl extremely conscious of males. When she is sold, then only, if the master wishes, he may say to her, "You may look into the eyes of your master." When she, frightened, tenderly, timidly lifts her eyes to him, if he should deign to smile upon her, the girl then, in gratitude and joy, at last permitted to relate to another human being, often falls to her knees before him, an adoring slave. When next she looks up, his eyes will be stern, and she will look down, quickly, frightened. "I will try to serve you well, Master," she whispers. The accouterments of the stimulation-cell are also calculated with respect to their effect on the slave. There are brushes, perfumes, cosmetics, slave jeweleries, heavy necklaces, armlets, bracelets and bangles; there is no clothing; there are also cushions, bowls of copper and lamps of brass. Importantly, there are also surfaces of various textures, a deep-piled rug, satins, silks, coarsely woven kaiila-hair cloths, brocades, rep- cloth, a tiled corner, a sleen pelt, clothes woven of strung beads, cloaks of leather, mats of reeds, ect. The point of this is that the senses and body of the slave, stripped save for brand and collar, and whatever perfumes, cosmetics or jewelries she may wear under the instruction of her trainer, are being taught to be alive, to sense and feel the great sensitivity; the senses and skins of many human beings, in effect, are dead, instead of being alert and alive to hundreds of subtle differences in, say, atmospheres, temperatures, humidities, surfaces, ect.
Tribesmen of Gor pgs: 24
"Kaiila and verr are found at the oases, but not in great numbers. The herds of these animals are found in the desert. They are kept by nomads, who move them from one area of verr grass to another, or from one water hole to another..."
Tribesmen of Gor pgs: 37
The war kaiila, rearing on its hind legs. . . He thrust the jaws away with the buckler. . .
Tribesmen of Gor pgs: 59
Make me tea,' I said." "...'Is it ready?' I asked. I looked at the tiny copper kettle on the small stand. A tiny kaiila-dung fire burned under it. A small, heavy, curved glass was nearby, on a flat box, which would hold some two ounces of the tea. Bazi tea is drunk in tiny glasses, usually three at a time, carefully measured. She did not make herself tea, of course."...... "She lifted the kettle from the fire and, carefully, poured me a tiny glass of tea. I took the glass."
Tribesmen of Gor pgs: 139
Following such rains, great clouds of sand flies appear, wakened from dormancy. These feast on kaiila and men. Normally, flying insects are found only in the vicinity of the oases."
Tribesmen of Gor pgs: 152
"The zadit is a small, tawny-feathered, sharp-billed bird. It feeds on insects. When sand flies and other insects, emergent after rains, infest kaiila, they frequently light on the animals, and remain for some hours, hunting insects. This relieves the kaiila of the insects but leaves it with numerous small wounds, which are unpleasant and irritating, where the bird had dug insects out of its hide. These tiny wounds, if they become infected, turn into sores; these sores are treated by the drovers with poultices of kaiila dung."
Tribesmen of Gor pgs: 152 | Chapter: 10:12
“Young warrior,” asked Hassan, of a youth, no more than eight, “have you heard aught of a tower of steel?”
His sister, standing behind him, laughed. Verr moved about them, brushing against their legs.
The boy went to the kaiila of Alyena. “Dismount, Slave,” he said to her.
She did so and knelt before him, a free male. The boy’s sister crowded behind him. Verr bleated.
“Put back your hood and strip yourself to the waist,” said the boy.
Alyena shook loose her hair; she then dropped her cloak back, and removed her blouse.
“See how white she is!” said the nomad girl.
“Pull down your skirt,” said the boy.
Alyena, furious, did so, it lying over her calves.
“How white!” said the nomad girl.
The boy walked about her, and took her hair in his hands. “Look,” said he to his sister, “silky, fine and yellow, and long.” She, too, felt the hair. The boy then walked before Alyena. “Look up,” said he. Alyena lifted her eyes, regarding him. “See,” said he to his sister, bending down. “She has blue eyes!”
“She is white, and ugly,” said the girl, standing up, backing off.
“No,” said the boy, “she is pretty.”
“If you like white girls,” said his sister.
“Is she expensive?” asked the boy of Hassan.
“Yes,” said Hassan, “young warrior. Do you wish to bid for her?”
“My father will not yet let me own a girl,” said the youngster.
“Ah,” said Hassan, understanding.
“But when I grow up,” said he. “I shall become a raider, like you, and have ten such girls. When I see one I want, I will carry her away, and make her my slave.” He looked at Hassan. “They will serve me well, and make me happy.”
“She is ugly,” said the boy’s sister. “Her body is white.”
“Is she a good slave?” asked the boy of Hassan.
“She is a stupid, miserable girl,” said Hassan, “who must be often beaten.”
“Too bad,” said the boy.
“Tend the verr,” said his sister, unpleasantly.
“If you were mine,” said the boy to Alyena, “I would tolerate no nonsense from you. I would make you be a perfect slave.”
“Yes, Master,” said Alyena, stripped before him, her teeth gritted.
“You may clothe yourself,” said the boy.
“Thank you, Master,” said Alyena.
Tribesmen of Gor pgs: 171-172
"I observed the rider; I saw him smile; I saw the kaiila rear up; I saw the lance fall into position; he lanced in sport; I faced him in war.."
Tribesmen of Gor pgs: 297
“You are a runaway slave girl,” he said.
She wept, but did not break the position of the slave dance.
“Too,” said he, “at the oasis you cried my name.”
These were serious offenses.
“Forgive me, Master,” she cried.
Toward the beginning of the fourth group I saw another girl I remembered. She turned away, trying to hide her face. I stopped the kaiila. Sensing that I had stopped, she fell to her knees and faced me, her head down.
“Forgive me, Master,” she whispered.
“Look at me, Slave Girl,” I told her.
She looked up, frightened. It was Zaya, the red-haired girl, who had served sugars with the black wine in the palace of Suleiman Pasha. She had testified against me at Nine Wells.
Tribesmen of Gor pgs: 344
I then saw the kaiila pass. It was lofty, stately, fanged and silken. I had heard of such beasts, but this was the first time I had seen. It was yellow, with flowing hair. Its rider was mounted in a high, purple saddle, with knives in the saddle sheaths.
Fighting Slave of Gor pgs: 178
The kailiauk in question, incidently,is the kailiauk of the Barrens. It is a gigantic, dangerous beast, often standing from twenty to twenty five hands at the shoulder and weighing as much as four thousand pounds. it is almost never hunted on foot except in deep snow, in which it is almost helpless. From kaiilaback, riding beside the stampeded animal, however, the skilled hunter can kill one with a single arrow. He rides close to the animal,not a yard from its side, just outside the hooking range of the trident, to supplement the striking power of his small bow. At this range the arrow can sink in to the feathers. Ideally it strikes into the intestinal cavity behind the last rib, producing large scale internal hemorrhaging, or closely behind the left shoulder blade, thence piercing the eight valved heart."
Savages of Gor pgs: 40
The kaiila lance takes, on the whole, two forms, the hunting lance and the war lance. Hunting lances are commonly longer, heavier and thicker than war lances. Too, they are often undecorated, save perhaps for a knot of the feathers. . .The point of the hunting lance is usually longer and narrower than that of the war lance. . .The head, of metal, or of bone or stone, with sinew or rawhide, and also sometimes with metal trade rivets. . .The tarn lance, it might be mentioned, as is used by the red savages who have mastered the tarn, is, in size and shape, very similar to the kaiila lance. It differs primarily in being longer and more slender.
Savages of Gor pgs: 43
The small bow has many advantages. High among these is the rapidity with which it may be drawn and fired. A skilled warrior, in the Gorean gravity, can fire ten arrows into the air, the last leaving the bow before the first has returned to the earth. No Gorean weapon can match it in its rate of fire. At close range it can be devastating. Two further advantages of the small bow that might be mentioned are its maneuverability and its capacity to be concealed, say beneath a robe. It can be easily swept from one side of the kaiila to the other.
Savages of Gor pgs: 46
A child is often put on kaiilaback, its tiny hands clutching the silken neck, before it can walk.
Savages of Gor pgs: 47
" 'How many kaiila do you have?' he asked.
'Two,' I said, one to ride, another for the trade goods.'
'That is fortunate,' said the fellow. 'No more than two kaiila are to be brought by any single white man into the Barrens. Too, no party of white men in the Barrens is permitted to bring in more than ten kaiila.'
'These are rules in Kailiauk?' I asked.
'They are rules of the red savages,' he said.
'Then,' said I, 'only small groups of white men could enter the Barrens, or else they would be on foot, at the mercy of the inhabitants of the area.'
'Precisely,' said the fellow.'"
Savages of Gor pgs: 137
“You, yourself,” I said, “do not seem much infected by the lunacy of the Waniyanpi.”
“No,” she said. “I am not. I have had red masters. From them I have learned new truths. Too, I was taken from the community at an early age.”
“How old were you?” I asked.
“I was taken from the enclosure when I was eight years old,” she said, “taken home by a Kaiila warrior as a pretty little white slave for his ten-year-old son. I learned early to please and placate men.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“There is little more to tell,” she said. “For seven years I was the slave of my young master. He was kind to me, and protected me, muchly, from the other children. Although I was only his slave, I think he liked me. He did not put me in a leg stretcher until I was fifteen.”
Savages of Gor pgs: 236
My mount, a lofty black kaiila, silken and swift, shifted nervously beneath me.
Blood Brothers of Gor pgs: 7
It is difficult to make clear to those who are not intimately acquainted with such things the meaning of the Pte, or Kailiauk, to the red savages. It is regarded by them with reverence and affection. It is a central phenomenon in their life, and much of their life revolves around it. The mere thought of the kailiauk can inspire awe in them, and pleasure and excitement. More to them than meat for the stomach and clothes for the back is the kailiauk to them; too, it is mystery and meaning for them; it is heavy with medicine; it is a danger; it is a sport; it is a challenge; and at dawn, with a lance or bow in one's hand, and a swift, eager kaiila between one's knees, it is a joy to the heart....
Blood Brothers of Gor pgs: 8
They were resplendent in finery and paint. Feathers, each one significant and meaningful, in the codes of the Kaiila, recounting their deeds and honors, adorned their hair.
Blood Brothers of Gor pgs: 25
Some of these rode kaiila to which travois were attached. Some had cradles slung about the pommels of their saddles. These cradles, most of them, are essentially wooden frames on which are fixed leather, open-fronted enclosures, opened and closed by lacings, for the infant. The wooden frame projects both above and below the enclosure for the infant. In particular it contains two sharpened projections at the top, like picket spikes, extending several inches above the point where the baby’s head will be located. This is to protect the infant’s head in the event of the cradle falling, say, from the back of a running kaiila. Such a cradle will often, in such a case, literally stick upside down in the earth. The child, then, laced in the enclosure, protected and supported by it, is seldom injured.
Such cradles, too, vertical, are often hung from a lodge pole or in the branches of a tree. In the tree, of course, the wind, in its rocking motion, can lull the infant to sleep. Older children often ride on the skins stretched between travois poles. Sometimes their fathers or mothers carry them before them, on the kaiila. When a child is about six, if his family is well-fixed, he will commonly have his own kaiila. The red savage, particularly the males, will usually be a skilled rider by the age of seven. Bareback riding, incidentally, is common in war and the hunt. In trading and visiting, interestingly, saddles are commonly used. This is perhaps because they can be decorated lavishly, adding to one’s appearance, and may serve, in virtue of the pommel, primarily, as a support for provisions, gifts and trade articles.
“It is simply splendid,” said Cuwignaka, happily.
“Yes,” I said.
Children, too, I noted, those not in cradles, greased, their hair braided, their bodies and clothing ornamented, in splendid finery, like miniature versions of the adults, some riding, some sitting on the skins stretched between travois poles, participated happily and proudly, or bewilderedly, in this handsome procession.
Blood Brothers of Gor pgs: 26
Then, suddenly, the two men with the kaiila quirts struck her across the back and, before she could do more than cry out, she was, too, pulled to her feet and forward, on the two tethers.
She then stood, held by the tethers, wildly, before the pole.
Cancega pointed to the pole.
She looked at him, bewildered. Then the quirts, again, struck her, and she cried out in pain.
Cancega again pointed to the pole.
Winyela then put her head down and took the pole in her small hands, and kissed it, humbly.
"Yes," said Cancega, encouraging her. "Yes."
Again Winyela kissed the pole.
"Yes," said Cancega.
Winyela then heard the rattles behind her, giving her her rhythm. These rattles were then joined by the fifing of whistles, shrill and high, formed from the wing bones of the taloned Herlit. A small drum, too, then began to sound. Its more accented beats, approached subtly but predictable, instructed the helpless, lovely dancer as to the placement and timing of the more dramatic of her demonstrations and motions.
"It is the Kaiila," chanted the men.
Winyela danced. There was dust upon her hair and on her body. On her cheeks were the three bars of greases that marked her as the property of the Kailla. Grease, too, had been smeared liberally upon her body. No longer was she a shining beauty. She was now only a filthy slave, an ignoble animal, something of no account, something worthless, obviously, but nonetheless permitted, in the kindness of the Kaiila, a woman of another people, to attempt to please the pole.
I smiled.
Was this not suitable? Was this not appropriate for her, a slave?
Winyela, kissing the pole, and caressing it, and moving about it, and rubbing her body against it, under the directions of Cancega, and guided sometimes by the tethers on her neck, continued to dance.
I whistled softly to myself.
"Ah," said Cuwignaka.
"It is the Kaiila!" chanted the men.
"I think the pole will be pleased," I said.
"I think a rock would be pleased," said Cuwignaka.
"I agree," I said.
Winyela, by the neck tethers, was pulled against the pole. She seized it, and writhed against it, and licked at it.
"It is the Kaiila!" chanted the men.
"It is the Kaiila!" shouted Cuwignaka.
A transformation seemed suddenly to come over Winyela. This was evinced in her dance.
"She is aroused," said Cuwignaka.
"Yes," I said.
She began, then, helplessly, to dance her servitude, her submission, her slavery. The dance, then, came helplessly from the depths of her. The tethers pulled her back from the pole and she reached forth for it. She struggled to reach it, writhing. Bit by bit she was permitted to near it, and then she embraced it. She climbed, then, upon the pole. There her dance, on her knees, her belly and back, squirming and clutching, continued.
Winyela now knelt on the pole and bent backwards, until her hair fell about the wood, and then she slipped her legs down about the pole and lay back on it, her hands holding to the pole behind her head. She reared helplessly on the pole, and writhed upon it, almost as though she might have been chained to it, and then, she turned about and lay on the pole, on her stomach, her thighs gripping it, her hands pushing her body up, and away from the pole, and then, suddenly, moving down about the trunk, bringing her head and shoulder down. Her red hair hung about the smooth, white wood. Her lips, again and again, pressed down upon it, in helpless kisses.
Winyela, helplessly, piteously, danced her obeisance to the great pole, and, in this, to her master, and to men.
In her dance, of course, Winyela was understood to be dancing not only her personal slavery, which she surely was, but, from the point of view of the Kaiila, in the symbolism of the dance, in the medicine of the dance, that the women of enemies were fit to be no more than the slaves of the Kaiila. I did not doubt but what the Fleer and the Yellow Knives, and other peoples, too, might have similar ceremonies, in which, in one way or another, a similar profession might take place, there being danced or enacted also by a woman of
Blood Brothers of Gor pgs: 39
In her dance, of course, Winyela was understood to be dancing not only her personal slavery, which she surely was, but, from the point of view of the Kaiila, in the symbolism of the dance, in the medicine of the dance, that the women of enemies were fit to be no more than the slaves of the Kaiila. I did not doubt but what the Fleer and the Yellow Knives, and other peoples, too, might have similar ceremonies, in which, in one way or another, a similar profession might take place, there being danced or enacted also by a woman of another group, perhaps even, in those cases, by a maiden of the Kaiila. I, myself, saw the symbolism of the dance, and, I think, so, too, did Winyela, in a pattern far deeper than that of an ethnocentric idiosyncrasy. I saw the symbolism as being in accord with what is certainly one of the deepest and most pervasive themes of organic nature, that of dominance and submission. In the dance, as I chose to understand it, Winyela danced the glory of life and the natural order; in it she danced her submission to the might of men and the fulfillment of her own femaleness; in it she danced her desire to be owned, to feel passion, to give of herself, unstintingly, to surrender herself, rejoicing, to service and love.
Blood Brothers of Gor pgs: 42
“Mitakola,” I said. This, in the language of the Kaiila, means ‘my friend’.
Blood Brothers of Gor pgs: 268
“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.
Magicians of Gor pgs: 18-19
"Tuka, Tuka!" called another fellow. "She is extremely pretty," I said. "She knows something of slave dance," said a fellow, licking his lips. "Oh?" I said. "Yes" he said. "Tuka, Tuka, Tuka!" called more men. The fellow, Teiber, looked down at his slave, who looked up at him, and quickly, timidly, kissed at his thigh. How much she was his, I thought. "Tuka, to the circle!" called a fellow. "She is a dancer," said a man. "She is extraordinary," said another. "Put Tuka in the circle!" called a fellow. "Tuka, Tuka!" called another. Teiber snapped his fingers once, sharply, and the slave leaped to her feet, standing erect, her head down, turned to the right, her hands at her sides, the palms facing backward. She might have been in a paga tavern, preparing to enter upon the sand or floor. I considered Teiber's Tuka. She had an excellent figure for slave dance. "Clear the circle!" called a fellow. The other dancers hurried to the side, to sit and kneel, and watch. I considered the slave. She was beautiful, and well curved. Teiber gestured to the circle. "Ahh!" said men. "She moves like a dancer," I said. "She is a dancer," said a fellow. I considered the girl. She now stood in the circle, relaxed, yet supple and vital, her wrists, back to back, over her head, her kneels flexed. "She is a bred passion slave," I said, "with papers and a lineage going back a thousand years." "No," said a man. "Where did he pick her up," I asked, "at the Curulean?" "I do not know," said a fellow. I supposed she was perhaps a capture. I did not know if a fellow such as this Teiber, who did not seem of the merchants or rich, could have afforded a slave of such obvious value. A fellow, for example, who cannot afford a certain kaiila might be able to capture it, and then, once he has his rope on its neck, and manages to make away with it, it is his mount. "Aii!" cried a fellow. "Aii!" said I too. Dancing was the slave! "She is surely a bred passion slave," I said. "Surely the blood line of such an animal go back a thousand years!" "No! No!" said a man, rapt, not taking his eyes from the slave. I regarded her, in awe. "She is trained of course," said a man. Only to obviously was this a trained dancer, and yet, too, there was far more than training involved. Too, I speak not of such relatively insignificant matters as the mere excellence of her figure for slave dance, as suitable and fitting as it might be for such and art form, for women with many figures can be superb in slave dance, or that she must possess a great natural talent for such a mode of expression, but something much deeper. In the nature of her dance I saw more than training, her figure, and her talent. Within this woman, revealing itself in the dance, in its rhythm, its joy, its spontaneity, its wonders, were untold depths of femaleness, a deep and radical femininity, unabashed and unapologetic, a rejoicing in her sex, a respect of it, a love of it, an acceptance of it and a celebration of it, a wanting of it, and of what she was, a woman, a slave, in all of its marvelousness. "Tuka, Tuka!" called men. Men clapped their hands. The slave danced. Much it seemed to me, though there might be two hundred men about the circle, she danced for her Master. Once he even indicated that she should move more about which, instantly, commanded, she did. "Tuka, Tuka!" even called some of the other slaves about the edges of the circle, sitting and kneeling there, unable to take their eyes from her, clapping, too. Teiber's Tuka it seemed, was popular even with the other slaves, of which she was such a superb specimen. I watched her moving about the circle. "Aii!" cried men, as she would pause a moment to dance before them. I had little doubt she might once have been a tavern dancer. Such dancers must present themselves in such a fashion before customers. This gives the customer an opportunity to assess them, and to keep them in mind, if he wishes, for later use in an alcove. "Aii," cried another fellow.
Magicians of Gor pgs: 52-56
Nomads of Gor pgs: 13-14
The kaiila of these men were as tawny as the brown grass of the prairie, save for that of the man who faced me, whose mount was a silken, sable black...
Nomads of Gor pgs: 14
“Tal!” I called, lifting my hand, palm inward, in Gorean greeting.
As one man the four riders unstrapped their lances.
“I am Tarl Cabot,” I called. “I come in peace!”
I saw the kaiila tense, almost like larls, their flanks quivering, their large eyes intent upon me. I saw one of the long, triangular tongues dart out and back. Their long ears were laid back against the fierce, silken heads.
“Do you speak Gorean?” I called.
Nomads of Gor pgs: 15
"I saw the kaiila tense, almost like larls, their flanks quivering, their large eyes intent upon me. I saw one of the long, triangular tongues dart out and back. Their long ears were laid back against the fierce, silken heads."
Nomads of Gor pgs: 15
"...beneath the clawed paws of four squealing, snorting kaiila....
...the enraged, thundering kaiila, hissing and squealing, at a touch of the control straps, arrested their fierce charge, stopping themselves, tearing into the deep turf with suddenly emergent claws.
The children of the Wagon peoples are taught the saddle of the kaiila before the can walk."
Nomads of Gor pgs: 17
. . .the small horn bow of the Wagon Peoples can be used to advantage not only from the back of a kaiila but, like the crossbow, from such cramped quarters.
Nomads of Gor pgs: 31
I was about to press Kamchak on this matter when we heard a sudden shout and the squealing of kaiila from among the wagons. I heard then the shouts of men and the cries of women and children. Kamchak lifted his head intently, listening. Then we heard the pounding of a small drum and two blasts on the horn of a bosk.
Nomads of Gor pgs: 33
In the crowd, on the back of a kaiila, I noted the girl Hereena, of the First Wagon, whom I had seen my first day in the camp of the Tuchuks, she who had almost ridden down Kamchak and myself between the wagons. She was a very exciting, vital, proud girl and the tiny golden nose ring, against her brownish skin, with her flashing black eyes, did not detract from her considerable but rather insolent beauty. She, and others like her, had been encouraged and spoiled from childhood in all their whims, unlike most other Tuchuk women, that they might be fit prizes, Kamchak had told me, in the games of Love War. Turian warriors, he told me, enjoy such women, the wild girls of the Wagons. A young man, blondish-haired with blue eyes, unscarred, bumped against the girl's stirrup in the press of the crowd. She struck him twice with the leather quirt in her hand, sharply, viciously. I could see blood on the side of his neck, where it joins the shoulder.
Nomads of Gor pgs: 67
“If you win for us,” Albrecht said to her, grinning down from the saddle of the kaiila, “this night you will be given a silver bracelet and five yards of scarlet silk.”
Nomads of Gor pgs: 74
. . .the saber, incidentally, which would be somewhat more effective from kaiilaback, is almost unknown on Gor. . .
Nomads of Gor pgs: 123
“Ah, yes, weapons,” Kamchak was saying, “what shall it be the kaiila lance, a whip and bladed bola, perhaps the quiva?”
Nomads of Gor pgs: 123
“Surely you are aware,” said Saphrar, “that a slave cannot own property - any more than a kaiila, a tharlarion or sleen.”
“I am the richest woman in Turia!” she cried.
Saphrar reclined a bit more on his cushions. His little round pinkish face shone. He pursed his lips and then smiled. He poked his head forward and said, very quickly, “You are a slave!” He then giggled.
Aphris of Turia threw back her head and screamed.
“You do not even have a name,” hissed the little merchant.
It was true. Kamchak would undoubtedly continue to call her Aphris, but it would be now his name for her and not her own. A slave, not being a person in the eyes of Gorean law, cannot possess a name in his own right, any more than an animal. Indeed, in the eyes of Gorean law, unfortunately, slaves are animals, utterly and unqualifiedly at the disposition of their masters, to do with as he pleases.
Nomads of Gor pgs: 132
Aphris looked at him in fury, but then smiled. “Certainly,” she said and the proud Aphris of Turia, kneeling, bent forward, to eat the meat held in the hand of her master.
Kamchak’s laugh was cut short when she sank her fine white teeth into his hand with a savage bite. “Aiii!” he howled, jumping up and sticking his bleeding hand into his mouth, sucking the blood from the wound. Elizabeth had leaped up and so had I.
Aphris had sprung to her feet and ran to the side of the wagon where there lay the kaiila saddle with its seven sheathed quivas. She jerked one of the quivas from its saddle sheath and stood with the blade facing us. She was bent over with rage. Kamchak sat down again, still sucking his hand. I also sat down, and so, too, did Elizabeth Cardwell. We left Aphris standing there, clutching the knife, breathing deeply.
“Sleen!” cried the girl. “I have a knife!”
Kamchak paid her no attention now but was looking at his hand. He seemed satisfied that the wound was not serious, and picked up the piece of meat which he had dropped, which he tossed to Elizabeth, who, in silence, ate it. He then pointed at the remains of the overdone roast, indicating that she might eat it.
“I have a knife!” cried Aphris in fury.
Kamchak was now picking his teeth with a fingernail.
“Bring wine,” he said to Elizabeth, who, her mouth filled with meat, went and fetched a small skin of wine and a cup, which she filled for him. When Kamchak had drunk the cup of wine he looked again at Aphris. “For what you have done,” he said, “it is common to call for one of the Clan of Torturers.”
“I will kill myself first,” cried Aphris, posing the quiva over her heart.
Kamchak shrugged.
The girl did not slay herself. “No,” she cried, “I will slay you.”
“Much better,” said Kamchak, nodding. “Much better.”
“I have a knife!” cried out Aphris.
“Obviously,” said Kamchak. He then got up and walked rather heavily over to one wall of the wagon and took a slave whip from the wall.
He faced Aphris of Turia.
“Sleen!” she wept. She threw back her hand with the knife to rush forward and thrust it into the heart of Kamchak but the coil of the whip lashed forth and I saw its stinging tip wrap four times about the wrist and forearm of the Turian girl who cried out in sudden pain and Kamchak had stepped to the side and with a motion of his hand had thrown her off balance and then by the whip dragged her rudely over the rug to his feet. There he stepped on her wrist and removed the knife from her open hand. He thrust it in his belt.
“Slay me!” wept the girl. “I will not be your slave!”
But Kamchak had hauled her to her feet and then flung her back to where she had stood before. Dazed, holding her right arm, on which could be seen four encircling blazes of scarlet, she regarded him. Kamchak then removed the quiva from his belt and hurled it across the room until it struck in one of the poles of the frame supporting the wagon hides, two inches in the wood, beside the throat of the girl.
“Take the quiva,” said Kamchak.
The girl shook with fear.
“Take it,” ordered Kamchak.
She did so.
“Now,” he said, “replace it.”
Trembling, she did so.
“Now approach me and eat,” said Kamchak. Aphris of Turia did so, defeated, kneeling before him and turning her head delicately to take the meat from his hand. “Tomorrow,” said Kamchak, “you will be permitted after I have eaten to feed yourself.”
Nomads of Gor pgs: 141-142
If you attempt to leave the wagons at night they will sense you out and rip my pretty little slave girl in pieces.”
“It is true,” I warned Aphris of Turia.
“Nonetheless,” said Aphris, “I will escape.”
“But not tonight!” guffawed Kamchak.
“No,” said Aphris acidly, “not tonight.” Then she looked about herself, disdainfully at the interior of the wagon. Her gaze rested for a moment on the kaiila saddle which had been part of the spoils which Kamchak had acquired for Tenchika. In the saddle, in their sheaths, were seven quivas.
Aphris turned again to face Kamchak. “This slave,” she said, indicating Elizabeth, “would not give me anything to eat.”
“Kamchak must eat first, Slave,” responded Elizabeth.
“Well,” said Aphris, “he has eaten.”
Kamchak then took a bit of meat that was left over from the fresh-roasted meat that Miss Cardwell had prepared. He held it out in his hand. “Eat,” he said to Aphris, “but do not touch it with your hands.”
Aphris looked at him in fury, but then smiled. “Certainly,” she said and the proud Aphris of Turia, kneeling, bent forward, to eat the meat held in the hand of her master.
Kamchak’s laugh was cut short when she sank her fine white teeth into his hand with a savage bite.
“Aiii!” he howled, jumping up and sticking his bleeding hand into his mouth, sucking the blood from the wound.
Elizabeth had leaped up and so had I.
Aphris had sprung to her feet and ran to the side of the wagon where there lay the kaiila saddle with its seven sheathed quivas. She jerked one of the quivas from its saddle sheath and stood with the blade facing us. She was bent over with rage.
Kamchak sat down again, still sucking his hand. I also sat down, and so, too, did Elizabeth Cardwell.
We left Aphris standing there, clutching the knife, breathing deeply.
“Sleep!” cried the girl. “I have a knife!”
Kamchak paid her no attention now but was looking at his hand. He seemed satisfied that the wound was not serious, and picked up the piece of meat which he had dropped, which he tossed to Elizabeth, who, in silence, ate it. He then pointed at the remains of the overdone roast, indicating that she might eat it.
“I have a knife!” cried Aphris in fury.
Kamchak was now picking his teeth with a fingernail. “Bring wine,” he said to Elizabeth, who, her mouth filled with meat, went and fetched a small skin of wine and a cup, which she filled for him. When Kamchak had drunk the cup of wine he looked again at Aphris. “For what you have done,” he said, “it is common to call for one of the Clan of Torturers.”
“I will kill myself first,” cried Aphris, posing the quiva over her heart.
Kamchak shrugged.
The girl did not slay herself. “No,” she cried, “I will slay you.”
“Much better,” said Kamchak, nodding. “Much better.”
“I have a knife!” cried out Aphris.
“Obviously,” said Kamchak. He then got up and walked rather heavily over to one wall of the wagon and took a slave whip from the wall.
He faced Aphris of Turia.
“Sleen!” she wept. She threw back her hand with the knife to rush forward and thrust it into the heart of Kamchak but the coil of the whip lashed forth and I saw its stinging tip wrap four times about the wrist and forearm of the Turian girl who cried out in sudden pain and Kamchak had stepped to the side and with a motion of his hand had thrown her off balance and then by the whip dragged her rudely over the rug to his feet. There he stepped on her wrist and removed the knife from her open hand. He thrust it in his belt.
“Slay me!” wept the girl. “I will not be your slave!”
But Kamchak had hauled her to her feet and then flung her back to where she had stood before. Dazed, holding her right arm, on which could be seen four encircling blazes of scarlet, she regarded him. Kamchak then removed the quiva from his belt and hurled it across the room until it struck in one of the poles of the frame supporting the wagon hides, two inches in the wood, beside the throat of the girl.
“Take the quiva,” said Kamchak.
The girl shook with fear.
“Take it,” ordered Kamchak.
She did so.
“Now,” he said, “replace it.”
Trembling, she did so.
“Now approach me and eat,” said Kamchak. Aphris of Turia did so, defeated, kneeling before him and turning her head delicately to take the meat from his hand. “Tomorrow,” said Kamchak, “you will be permitted after I have eaten to feed yourself.”
Suddenly Elizabeth Cardwell said, perhaps unwisely. “You are cruel”
Kamchak looked at her in surprise. “I am kind,” he said.
“How is that?” I asked.
“I am permitting her to live,” he said.
“I think,” I said, “that you have won this night but I warn you that the girl from Turia will think again of the quiva and the heart of a Tuchuk warrior.”
“Of course,” smiled Kamchak, feeding Aphris, “she is superb.”
The girl looked at him with wonder.
“For a Turian slave,” he added. He fed her another piece of meat. “Tomorrow, Little Aphris,” said he, “I will give you something to wear.”
She looked at him gratefully.
“Bells and collar,” said he.
Tears appeared in her eyes.
Nomads of Gor pgs: 141-143
'...Come along,' he said. 'There is a new kaiila I want to see near the wagon of Yachi of the Leather Workers' Clan.'
Nomads of Gor pgs: 170
Among the animals I saw many verrs; some domestic tarsks, their tusks sheathed; cages of flapping vulos, some sleen, some kaiila, even some bosk; by the Paravaci haruspexes I saw manacled male slaves, if such were to be permitted; commonly, I understood from Kamchak, the Tuchuks, Kassars and Kataii rule out the sacrifice of slaves because their hearts and livers are thought to be, fortunately for the slaves, untrustworthy in registering portents; after all, as Kamchak pointed out, who would trust a Turian slave in the kes with a matter so important as the election of a Ubar San; it seemed to me good logic and, of course, I am sure the slaves, too, were taken with the cogency of the argument.
Nomads of Gor pgs: 171
When I handed Hereena to him the poor girl was shivering and moaning in terror, uncontrollably trembling. She, a girl of the plains, familiar with fierce kaiila, herself a proud, spirited wench, brave and daring, was yet like many women utterly for some reason terrified of a tarn.
Nomads of Gor pgs: 230
"You were beaten," I said, "because you ran away. Normally a girl who does what you did is maimed or thrown to sleen or kaiila, and that he touched you with the whip, the Slaver's Caress, that was only to show me, and perhaps you, that you were female."
Nomads of Gor pgs: 281
Some of the riders of the Steels, I recalled, seeing it among the belongings of Gladius of Cos, had jested with me about it, asking if it were a toy, or perhaps a training bow for a child; these men, of course, had never, on kaiila back, and it is just as well for them, met Tuchuks.
Assassin of Gor pgs: 366
A stimulation cage is an ornately barred, low ceilinged cage; it is rather room, except for the low ceiling, about five feet high. The girl cannot stand erect in it without her head inclined submissively. In such a cage, and in training, when not in such a cage, the girl who is housed in the stimulation cage is not permitted to look directly into the eyes of a male, even a male slave. This is designed, psychologically, to make the girl extremely conscious of males. When she is sold, then only, if the master wishes, he may say to her, "You may look into the eyes of your master." When she, frightened, tenderly, timidly lifts her eyes to him, if he should deign to smile upon her, the girl then, in gratitude and joy, at last permitted to relate to another human being, often falls to her knees before him, an adoring slave. When next she looks up, his eyes will be stern, and she will look down, quickly, frightened. "I will try to serve you well, Master," she whispers. The accouterments of the stimulation-cell are also calculated with respect to their effect on the slave. There are brushes, perfumes, cosmetics, slave jeweleries, heavy necklaces, armlets, bracelets and bangles; there is no clothing; there are also cushions, bowls of copper and lamps of brass. Importantly, there are also surfaces of various textures, a deep-piled rug, satins, silks, coarsely woven kaiila-hair cloths, brocades, rep- cloth, a tiled corner, a sleen pelt, clothes woven of strung beads, cloaks of leather, mats of reeds, ect. The point of this is that the senses and body of the slave, stripped save for brand and collar, and whatever perfumes, cosmetics or jewelries she may wear under the instruction of her trainer, are being taught to be alive, to sense and feel the great sensitivity; the senses and skins of many human beings, in effect, are dead, instead of being alert and alive to hundreds of subtle differences in, say, atmospheres, temperatures, humidities, surfaces, ect.
Tribesmen of Gor pgs: 24
"Kaiila and verr are found at the oases, but not in great numbers. The herds of these animals are found in the desert. They are kept by nomads, who move them from one area of verr grass to another, or from one water hole to another..."
Tribesmen of Gor pgs: 37
The war kaiila, rearing on its hind legs. . . He thrust the jaws away with the buckler. . .
Tribesmen of Gor pgs: 59
Make me tea,' I said." "...'Is it ready?' I asked. I looked at the tiny copper kettle on the small stand. A tiny kaiila-dung fire burned under it. A small, heavy, curved glass was nearby, on a flat box, which would hold some two ounces of the tea. Bazi tea is drunk in tiny glasses, usually three at a time, carefully measured. She did not make herself tea, of course."...... "She lifted the kettle from the fire and, carefully, poured me a tiny glass of tea. I took the glass."
Tribesmen of Gor pgs: 139
Following such rains, great clouds of sand flies appear, wakened from dormancy. These feast on kaiila and men. Normally, flying insects are found only in the vicinity of the oases."
Tribesmen of Gor pgs: 152
"The zadit is a small, tawny-feathered, sharp-billed bird. It feeds on insects. When sand flies and other insects, emergent after rains, infest kaiila, they frequently light on the animals, and remain for some hours, hunting insects. This relieves the kaiila of the insects but leaves it with numerous small wounds, which are unpleasant and irritating, where the bird had dug insects out of its hide. These tiny wounds, if they become infected, turn into sores; these sores are treated by the drovers with poultices of kaiila dung."
Tribesmen of Gor pgs: 152 | Chapter: 10:12
“Young warrior,” asked Hassan, of a youth, no more than eight, “have you heard aught of a tower of steel?”
His sister, standing behind him, laughed. Verr moved about them, brushing against their legs.
The boy went to the kaiila of Alyena. “Dismount, Slave,” he said to her.
She did so and knelt before him, a free male. The boy’s sister crowded behind him. Verr bleated.
“Put back your hood and strip yourself to the waist,” said the boy.
Alyena shook loose her hair; she then dropped her cloak back, and removed her blouse.
“See how white she is!” said the nomad girl.
“Pull down your skirt,” said the boy.
Alyena, furious, did so, it lying over her calves.
“How white!” said the nomad girl.
The boy walked about her, and took her hair in his hands. “Look,” said he to his sister, “silky, fine and yellow, and long.” She, too, felt the hair. The boy then walked before Alyena. “Look up,” said he. Alyena lifted her eyes, regarding him. “See,” said he to his sister, bending down. “She has blue eyes!”
“She is white, and ugly,” said the girl, standing up, backing off.
“No,” said the boy, “she is pretty.”
“If you like white girls,” said his sister.
“Is she expensive?” asked the boy of Hassan.
“Yes,” said Hassan, “young warrior. Do you wish to bid for her?”
“My father will not yet let me own a girl,” said the youngster.
“Ah,” said Hassan, understanding.
“But when I grow up,” said he. “I shall become a raider, like you, and have ten such girls. When I see one I want, I will carry her away, and make her my slave.” He looked at Hassan. “They will serve me well, and make me happy.”
“She is ugly,” said the boy’s sister. “Her body is white.”
“Is she a good slave?” asked the boy of Hassan.
“She is a stupid, miserable girl,” said Hassan, “who must be often beaten.”
“Too bad,” said the boy.
“Tend the verr,” said his sister, unpleasantly.
“If you were mine,” said the boy to Alyena, “I would tolerate no nonsense from you. I would make you be a perfect slave.”
“Yes, Master,” said Alyena, stripped before him, her teeth gritted.
“You may clothe yourself,” said the boy.
“Thank you, Master,” said Alyena.
Tribesmen of Gor pgs: 171-172
"I observed the rider; I saw him smile; I saw the kaiila rear up; I saw the lance fall into position; he lanced in sport; I faced him in war.."
Tribesmen of Gor pgs: 297
“You are a runaway slave girl,” he said.
She wept, but did not break the position of the slave dance.
“Too,” said he, “at the oasis you cried my name.”
These were serious offenses.
“Forgive me, Master,” she cried.
Toward the beginning of the fourth group I saw another girl I remembered. She turned away, trying to hide her face. I stopped the kaiila. Sensing that I had stopped, she fell to her knees and faced me, her head down.
“Forgive me, Master,” she whispered.
“Look at me, Slave Girl,” I told her.
She looked up, frightened. It was Zaya, the red-haired girl, who had served sugars with the black wine in the palace of Suleiman Pasha. She had testified against me at Nine Wells.
Tribesmen of Gor pgs: 344
I then saw the kaiila pass. It was lofty, stately, fanged and silken. I had heard of such beasts, but this was the first time I had seen. It was yellow, with flowing hair. Its rider was mounted in a high, purple saddle, with knives in the saddle sheaths.
Fighting Slave of Gor pgs: 178
The kailiauk in question, incidently,is the kailiauk of the Barrens. It is a gigantic, dangerous beast, often standing from twenty to twenty five hands at the shoulder and weighing as much as four thousand pounds. it is almost never hunted on foot except in deep snow, in which it is almost helpless. From kaiilaback, riding beside the stampeded animal, however, the skilled hunter can kill one with a single arrow. He rides close to the animal,not a yard from its side, just outside the hooking range of the trident, to supplement the striking power of his small bow. At this range the arrow can sink in to the feathers. Ideally it strikes into the intestinal cavity behind the last rib, producing large scale internal hemorrhaging, or closely behind the left shoulder blade, thence piercing the eight valved heart."
Savages of Gor pgs: 40
The kaiila lance takes, on the whole, two forms, the hunting lance and the war lance. Hunting lances are commonly longer, heavier and thicker than war lances. Too, they are often undecorated, save perhaps for a knot of the feathers. . .The point of the hunting lance is usually longer and narrower than that of the war lance. . .The head, of metal, or of bone or stone, with sinew or rawhide, and also sometimes with metal trade rivets. . .The tarn lance, it might be mentioned, as is used by the red savages who have mastered the tarn, is, in size and shape, very similar to the kaiila lance. It differs primarily in being longer and more slender.
Savages of Gor pgs: 43
The small bow has many advantages. High among these is the rapidity with which it may be drawn and fired. A skilled warrior, in the Gorean gravity, can fire ten arrows into the air, the last leaving the bow before the first has returned to the earth. No Gorean weapon can match it in its rate of fire. At close range it can be devastating. Two further advantages of the small bow that might be mentioned are its maneuverability and its capacity to be concealed, say beneath a robe. It can be easily swept from one side of the kaiila to the other.
Savages of Gor pgs: 46
A child is often put on kaiilaback, its tiny hands clutching the silken neck, before it can walk.
Savages of Gor pgs: 47
" 'How many kaiila do you have?' he asked.
'Two,' I said, one to ride, another for the trade goods.'
'That is fortunate,' said the fellow. 'No more than two kaiila are to be brought by any single white man into the Barrens. Too, no party of white men in the Barrens is permitted to bring in more than ten kaiila.'
'These are rules in Kailiauk?' I asked.
'They are rules of the red savages,' he said.
'Then,' said I, 'only small groups of white men could enter the Barrens, or else they would be on foot, at the mercy of the inhabitants of the area.'
'Precisely,' said the fellow.'"
Savages of Gor pgs: 137
“You, yourself,” I said, “do not seem much infected by the lunacy of the Waniyanpi.”
“No,” she said. “I am not. I have had red masters. From them I have learned new truths. Too, I was taken from the community at an early age.”
“How old were you?” I asked.
“I was taken from the enclosure when I was eight years old,” she said, “taken home by a Kaiila warrior as a pretty little white slave for his ten-year-old son. I learned early to please and placate men.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“There is little more to tell,” she said. “For seven years I was the slave of my young master. He was kind to me, and protected me, muchly, from the other children. Although I was only his slave, I think he liked me. He did not put me in a leg stretcher until I was fifteen.”
Savages of Gor pgs: 236
My mount, a lofty black kaiila, silken and swift, shifted nervously beneath me.
Blood Brothers of Gor pgs: 7
It is difficult to make clear to those who are not intimately acquainted with such things the meaning of the Pte, or Kailiauk, to the red savages. It is regarded by them with reverence and affection. It is a central phenomenon in their life, and much of their life revolves around it. The mere thought of the kailiauk can inspire awe in them, and pleasure and excitement. More to them than meat for the stomach and clothes for the back is the kailiauk to them; too, it is mystery and meaning for them; it is heavy with medicine; it is a danger; it is a sport; it is a challenge; and at dawn, with a lance or bow in one's hand, and a swift, eager kaiila between one's knees, it is a joy to the heart....
Blood Brothers of Gor pgs: 8
They were resplendent in finery and paint. Feathers, each one significant and meaningful, in the codes of the Kaiila, recounting their deeds and honors, adorned their hair.
Blood Brothers of Gor pgs: 25
Some of these rode kaiila to which travois were attached. Some had cradles slung about the pommels of their saddles. These cradles, most of them, are essentially wooden frames on which are fixed leather, open-fronted enclosures, opened and closed by lacings, for the infant. The wooden frame projects both above and below the enclosure for the infant. In particular it contains two sharpened projections at the top, like picket spikes, extending several inches above the point where the baby’s head will be located. This is to protect the infant’s head in the event of the cradle falling, say, from the back of a running kaiila. Such a cradle will often, in such a case, literally stick upside down in the earth. The child, then, laced in the enclosure, protected and supported by it, is seldom injured.
Such cradles, too, vertical, are often hung from a lodge pole or in the branches of a tree. In the tree, of course, the wind, in its rocking motion, can lull the infant to sleep. Older children often ride on the skins stretched between travois poles. Sometimes their fathers or mothers carry them before them, on the kaiila. When a child is about six, if his family is well-fixed, he will commonly have his own kaiila. The red savage, particularly the males, will usually be a skilled rider by the age of seven. Bareback riding, incidentally, is common in war and the hunt. In trading and visiting, interestingly, saddles are commonly used. This is perhaps because they can be decorated lavishly, adding to one’s appearance, and may serve, in virtue of the pommel, primarily, as a support for provisions, gifts and trade articles.
“It is simply splendid,” said Cuwignaka, happily.
“Yes,” I said.
Children, too, I noted, those not in cradles, greased, their hair braided, their bodies and clothing ornamented, in splendid finery, like miniature versions of the adults, some riding, some sitting on the skins stretched between travois poles, participated happily and proudly, or bewilderedly, in this handsome procession.
Blood Brothers of Gor pgs: 26
Then, suddenly, the two men with the kaiila quirts struck her across the back and, before she could do more than cry out, she was, too, pulled to her feet and forward, on the two tethers.
She then stood, held by the tethers, wildly, before the pole.
Cancega pointed to the pole.
She looked at him, bewildered. Then the quirts, again, struck her, and she cried out in pain.
Cancega again pointed to the pole.
Winyela then put her head down and took the pole in her small hands, and kissed it, humbly.
"Yes," said Cancega, encouraging her. "Yes."
Again Winyela kissed the pole.
"Yes," said Cancega.
Winyela then heard the rattles behind her, giving her her rhythm. These rattles were then joined by the fifing of whistles, shrill and high, formed from the wing bones of the taloned Herlit. A small drum, too, then began to sound. Its more accented beats, approached subtly but predictable, instructed the helpless, lovely dancer as to the placement and timing of the more dramatic of her demonstrations and motions.
"It is the Kaiila," chanted the men.
Winyela danced. There was dust upon her hair and on her body. On her cheeks were the three bars of greases that marked her as the property of the Kailla. Grease, too, had been smeared liberally upon her body. No longer was she a shining beauty. She was now only a filthy slave, an ignoble animal, something of no account, something worthless, obviously, but nonetheless permitted, in the kindness of the Kaiila, a woman of another people, to attempt to please the pole.
I smiled.
Was this not suitable? Was this not appropriate for her, a slave?
Winyela, kissing the pole, and caressing it, and moving about it, and rubbing her body against it, under the directions of Cancega, and guided sometimes by the tethers on her neck, continued to dance.
I whistled softly to myself.
"Ah," said Cuwignaka.
"It is the Kaiila!" chanted the men.
"I think the pole will be pleased," I said.
"I think a rock would be pleased," said Cuwignaka.
"I agree," I said.
Winyela, by the neck tethers, was pulled against the pole. She seized it, and writhed against it, and licked at it.
"It is the Kaiila!" chanted the men.
"It is the Kaiila!" shouted Cuwignaka.
A transformation seemed suddenly to come over Winyela. This was evinced in her dance.
"She is aroused," said Cuwignaka.
"Yes," I said.
She began, then, helplessly, to dance her servitude, her submission, her slavery. The dance, then, came helplessly from the depths of her. The tethers pulled her back from the pole and she reached forth for it. She struggled to reach it, writhing. Bit by bit she was permitted to near it, and then she embraced it. She climbed, then, upon the pole. There her dance, on her knees, her belly and back, squirming and clutching, continued.
Winyela now knelt on the pole and bent backwards, until her hair fell about the wood, and then she slipped her legs down about the pole and lay back on it, her hands holding to the pole behind her head. She reared helplessly on the pole, and writhed upon it, almost as though she might have been chained to it, and then, she turned about and lay on the pole, on her stomach, her thighs gripping it, her hands pushing her body up, and away from the pole, and then, suddenly, moving down about the trunk, bringing her head and shoulder down. Her red hair hung about the smooth, white wood. Her lips, again and again, pressed down upon it, in helpless kisses.
Winyela, helplessly, piteously, danced her obeisance to the great pole, and, in this, to her master, and to men.
In her dance, of course, Winyela was understood to be dancing not only her personal slavery, which she surely was, but, from the point of view of the Kaiila, in the symbolism of the dance, in the medicine of the dance, that the women of enemies were fit to be no more than the slaves of the Kaiila. I did not doubt but what the Fleer and the Yellow Knives, and other peoples, too, might have similar ceremonies, in which, in one way or another, a similar profession might take place, there being danced or enacted also by a woman of
Blood Brothers of Gor pgs: 39
In her dance, of course, Winyela was understood to be dancing not only her personal slavery, which she surely was, but, from the point of view of the Kaiila, in the symbolism of the dance, in the medicine of the dance, that the women of enemies were fit to be no more than the slaves of the Kaiila. I did not doubt but what the Fleer and the Yellow Knives, and other peoples, too, might have similar ceremonies, in which, in one way or another, a similar profession might take place, there being danced or enacted also by a woman of another group, perhaps even, in those cases, by a maiden of the Kaiila. I, myself, saw the symbolism of the dance, and, I think, so, too, did Winyela, in a pattern far deeper than that of an ethnocentric idiosyncrasy. I saw the symbolism as being in accord with what is certainly one of the deepest and most pervasive themes of organic nature, that of dominance and submission. In the dance, as I chose to understand it, Winyela danced the glory of life and the natural order; in it she danced her submission to the might of men and the fulfillment of her own femaleness; in it she danced her desire to be owned, to feel passion, to give of herself, unstintingly, to surrender herself, rejoicing, to service and love.
Blood Brothers of Gor pgs: 42
“Mitakola,” I said. This, in the language of the Kaiila, means ‘my friend’.
Blood Brothers of Gor pgs: 268
“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.
Magicians of Gor pgs: 18-19
"Tuka, Tuka!" called another fellow. "She is extremely pretty," I said. "She knows something of slave dance," said a fellow, licking his lips. "Oh?" I said. "Yes" he said. "Tuka, Tuka, Tuka!" called more men. The fellow, Teiber, looked down at his slave, who looked up at him, and quickly, timidly, kissed at his thigh. How much she was his, I thought. "Tuka, to the circle!" called a fellow. "She is a dancer," said a man. "She is extraordinary," said another. "Put Tuka in the circle!" called a fellow. "Tuka, Tuka!" called another. Teiber snapped his fingers once, sharply, and the slave leaped to her feet, standing erect, her head down, turned to the right, her hands at her sides, the palms facing backward. She might have been in a paga tavern, preparing to enter upon the sand or floor. I considered Teiber's Tuka. She had an excellent figure for slave dance. "Clear the circle!" called a fellow. The other dancers hurried to the side, to sit and kneel, and watch. I considered the slave. She was beautiful, and well curved. Teiber gestured to the circle. "Ahh!" said men. "She moves like a dancer," I said. "She is a dancer," said a fellow. I considered the girl. She now stood in the circle, relaxed, yet supple and vital, her wrists, back to back, over her head, her kneels flexed. "She is a bred passion slave," I said, "with papers and a lineage going back a thousand years." "No," said a man. "Where did he pick her up," I asked, "at the Curulean?" "I do not know," said a fellow. I supposed she was perhaps a capture. I did not know if a fellow such as this Teiber, who did not seem of the merchants or rich, could have afforded a slave of such obvious value. A fellow, for example, who cannot afford a certain kaiila might be able to capture it, and then, once he has his rope on its neck, and manages to make away with it, it is his mount. "Aii!" cried a fellow. "Aii!" said I too. Dancing was the slave! "She is surely a bred passion slave," I said. "Surely the blood line of such an animal go back a thousand years!" "No! No!" said a man, rapt, not taking his eyes from the slave. I regarded her, in awe. "She is trained of course," said a man. Only to obviously was this a trained dancer, and yet, too, there was far more than training involved. Too, I speak not of such relatively insignificant matters as the mere excellence of her figure for slave dance, as suitable and fitting as it might be for such and art form, for women with many figures can be superb in slave dance, or that she must possess a great natural talent for such a mode of expression, but something much deeper. In the nature of her dance I saw more than training, her figure, and her talent. Within this woman, revealing itself in the dance, in its rhythm, its joy, its spontaneity, its wonders, were untold depths of femaleness, a deep and radical femininity, unabashed and unapologetic, a rejoicing in her sex, a respect of it, a love of it, an acceptance of it and a celebration of it, a wanting of it, and of what she was, a woman, a slave, in all of its marvelousness. "Tuka, Tuka!" called men. Men clapped their hands. The slave danced. Much it seemed to me, though there might be two hundred men about the circle, she danced for her Master. Once he even indicated that she should move more about which, instantly, commanded, she did. "Tuka, Tuka!" even called some of the other slaves about the edges of the circle, sitting and kneeling there, unable to take their eyes from her, clapping, too. Teiber's Tuka it seemed, was popular even with the other slaves, of which she was such a superb specimen. I watched her moving about the circle. "Aii!" cried men, as she would pause a moment to dance before them. I had little doubt she might once have been a tavern dancer. Such dancers must present themselves in such a fashion before customers. This gives the customer an opportunity to assess them, and to keep them in mind, if he wishes, for later use in an alcove. "Aii," cried another fellow.
Magicians of Gor pgs: 52-56
Panther Girls
“Some call them the forest girls,” said Ute. “Others call them the panther girls, for they dress themselves in the teeth and skins of forest panthers, which they slay with their spears and bows.”
Captive of Gor pgs: 82
These were forest girls, sometimes called panther girls, who lived wild and free in the northern forests, outlaw women, sometimes enslaving men, when it pleased them to do so.
Captive of Gor pgs: 118
The men shouted. Women cursed, and screamed their hatred of the panther girls. Children cried out and pelted them with pebbles. Slave girls in the crowd rushed forward to surge about the carts, to poke at them with sticks, strike them with switches and spit upon them.
Captive of Gor pgs: 213
I was not interested in the purchase of men, but I was interested in whatever information I might be able to gather from panther girls. And these girls were free. Who knew what they might know?
“Wine, Slave,” said Sheera.
“Yes, Mistress,” whispered Cara, and filled her cup.
Sheera regarded her with contempt. Head down, Cara crept back.
Panther girls are arrogant. They live by themselves in the northern forests, by hunting, and slaving and outlawry. They have little respect for anyone, or anything, saving themselves and, undeniably, the beasts they hunt, the tawny forest panthers, the swift, sinuous sleen.
Hunters of Gor pgs: 28
Panther girls are arrogant. They live by themselves in the northern forests, by hunting, and slaving and outlawry.
They have little respect for anyone, or anything, saving themselves and, undeniably, the beasts they hunt, the tawny forest panthers, the swift, sinuous sleen.
I can understand why it is that such women hate men, but it is less clear to me why they hold such enmity to women. Indeed, they accord more respect to men, who hunt them, and whom they hunt, as worthy foes, than they do to women other than themselves....It is said that panther girls, conquered, make incredible slaves.
Hunters of Gor pgs: 28-29
Each band of panther girls customarily has a semi-permanent camp, particularly in the winter, but, too, each band, customarily, has its dancing circle.
Hunters of Gor pgs: 30
"A steel knife for each," I proposed to Sheera, "and twenty arrow points, of steel, for each."
"Forty arrow points for each, and the knives," said Sheera, cutting at the sand.
I could see she did not much want to conduct these negotiations. Her heart was not in the bargaining. She was angry.
"Very well," I said.
"And a stone of candies," she said, looking up, suddenly.
"Very well," I said.
"For each!" she demanded.
"Very well," I said.
She slapped her knees and laughed. The girls seemed delighted. There was little sugar in the forest, save naturally in certain berries, and simple hard candies, such as a child might buy in shops in Ar, or Ko-ro-ba, were, among the panther girls in the remote forests, prized. It was not unknown that among the bands in the forests, a male might be sold for as little as a handful of such candies. When dealing with men, however, the girls usually demanded, and received, goods of greater value to them, usually knives, arrow points, small spear points; sometimes armlets, and bracelets and necklaces, and mirrors; sometimes slave nets and slave traps, to aid in their hunting; sometimes slave chains, and manacles, to secure their catches.
Hunters of Gor pgs: 31
There was another sound from beyond the perimeter. I saw something white move in the darkness, stumbling between two panther girls.
A panther girl holding each arm, she was thrust into the camp. She was still braceleted, of course, but now her hands in the bracelets, with binding fiber, had been tied close to her belly. Her brief white garment had been torn to her waist. The fillet was gone from her hair. Sheera was thrust forward and forced to her knees, head down, by the fire. She had been much switched.
"We encountered this strayed slave," said the girl.
"She is mine," I said.
"Do you know who she was?" asked the girl.
I shrugged. "A slave," I said.
There was laughter from the girls beyond the perimeter, in the darkness. Sheera lowered her head still more.
"She was once a panther girl," said the girl. "She was once Sheera, the panther girl."
"Oh," I said.
The girl laughed. "She was a great rival to Verna. Verna now takes pleasure in returning her to you." The girl looked at Sheera. "You wear a collar well, Sheera," said she.
Sheera looked at her, her eyes glazed with pain.
Hunters of Gor pgs: 88-89
There is a Gorean saying that free women, raised gently in the high cylinders, in their robes of concealment, unarmed, untrained in weapons, may, by the slaver, be plucked like flowers.
There is no such saying pertaining to panther girls.
Hunters of Gor pgs: 118
She looked down at me, and laughed. "Any panther girl," she said, "who falls to men deserves the collar." She fingered the hilt of the knife. "There is a saying among panther girls," she said, "that say any girl who permits herself to fall to men desires in her heart to be their slave."
Hunters of Gor pgs: 133
Then, about me, the panther girls, circling, swaying, began a slow stalking dance, as of hunters. I lay in the center of the circle. Their movements were slow, and incredibly beautiful. Then suddenly one would cry out and thrust at me with her spear. But the spear was not thrust into my body. Its point would stop before it had administered its wound. Many of the blows would have been mortal. But many thrusts were only to my eyes, or arms and legs. Every bit of me began to feel exposed, threatened. I was their catch. Then the dance became progressively swifter and wilder, and the feigned blows became more frequent, and then, suddenly, with a wild cry, the swirling throng about me stood for an instant stock still, and then with a cry, each spear thrust down savagely toward my heart. I cried out. None of the spears had struck me. The girls cast aside the spears. Then, like feeding she-panthers they knelt about me, each one, with her hands and tongue, touching and kissing me. I cried out with anguish. I knew I could not long resist them.
Hunters of Gor pgs: 138
There was a long silence, of some Ihn, and then, at a nod from Hura, who threw her long black hair back and lifted her head to the moons, the drum began again its beat. Mira's head was down, and shaking. Her right foot was stamping. The panther girls put down their heads. I saw their fists begin to clench and unclench. They stood, scarcely moving, but I could sense the movement of the drum in their blood.
The men of Tyros glanced to one another. It was few free men who had ever looked, unbound, on the rites of panther girls. Hura's eyes were on the moons. She lifted her hands, fingers like claws, and screamed her need. The girls then, following her, began to dance.
How starved must be the lonely, hating panther women of the forests, so gross is their hostility, so fierce their hatred, and yet need, of men. They twisted, screaming now, clawing at the moons. I would scarcely have guessed at the primitive hungers evident in each movement of those barbaric, feline bodies. They would be masters of men. Proud, magnificent creatures. And yet by biology, by their beauty, by their aroused inwardness, could not, in fact, own but only, in their true fulfillment, belong, be taken, be conquered. The drum was now very heady, swift.
The dance of the panther girls became more wild, more frenzied. Vicious, sinuous, clawing, lithe, these savage beauties, in their skins and gold, with their knives, their light spears, weapons darting, danced. They were terrible, and beautiful, in the streaming, flooding light of the looming, primitive moons of perilous Gor. I could hear their cries of rage and need, hear their heels striking in the earth, their hands slapping at their thighs. I saw the teeth of some, white, bared, at the moons, their eyes blazing. The hair of all was unbound. Several had already, oblivious of the presence of the men of Tyros, torn away their skins to the waist, others completely. On some I could hear the movement of the necklaces of sleen teeth tied about their necks, the shivering and ringing of slender golden bangles on their tanned ankles. In their dance they danced among the staked-out bodies of the men of Marlenus, and about the great Ubar himself. Their weapons leapt at the bound men, but never did the blows fall.
The dance would soon strike its climax. It could continue little longer. The women would go mad with their need to strike and rape. Suddenly the drum stopped and Hura stopped, her body bent backward, her head back, her long black hair falling to the back of her knees. She was breathing deeply, very deeply. Her body was covered with a sheen of sweat.
Hunters of Gor pgs: 197
Slave girls, many of whom have been forced to yield themselves totally to a man, are an object of hatred to panther girls. They represent what the panther girl most fears and hates, her sex.
Hunters of Gor pgs: 201
Some girls attempt to flee to the greenwood forests of the north. In such forests, in certain territories, there roam bands of free women, the lithe, ferocious Panther Girls of Gor, but these despise and hate women not of their own fierce ilk; in particular do they revile and hold in contempt girls, beauties, who have been slaves to men; should such a girl, fleeing enter the cool vastness of their green domain, she is commonly hunted down like a tabuk doe and cruelly captured; the forests are not for such as she; she is tethered and bound, and often lashed, then driven by switches helplessly to the shores of Thassa or the banks of the Laurius, and then sold back to men, usually for weapons or candy.
Slave Girl of Gor pgs: 98
Captive of Gor pgs: 82
These were forest girls, sometimes called panther girls, who lived wild and free in the northern forests, outlaw women, sometimes enslaving men, when it pleased them to do so.
Captive of Gor pgs: 118
The men shouted. Women cursed, and screamed their hatred of the panther girls. Children cried out and pelted them with pebbles. Slave girls in the crowd rushed forward to surge about the carts, to poke at them with sticks, strike them with switches and spit upon them.
Captive of Gor pgs: 213
I was not interested in the purchase of men, but I was interested in whatever information I might be able to gather from panther girls. And these girls were free. Who knew what they might know?
“Wine, Slave,” said Sheera.
“Yes, Mistress,” whispered Cara, and filled her cup.
Sheera regarded her with contempt. Head down, Cara crept back.
Panther girls are arrogant. They live by themselves in the northern forests, by hunting, and slaving and outlawry. They have little respect for anyone, or anything, saving themselves and, undeniably, the beasts they hunt, the tawny forest panthers, the swift, sinuous sleen.
Hunters of Gor pgs: 28
Panther girls are arrogant. They live by themselves in the northern forests, by hunting, and slaving and outlawry.
They have little respect for anyone, or anything, saving themselves and, undeniably, the beasts they hunt, the tawny forest panthers, the swift, sinuous sleen.
I can understand why it is that such women hate men, but it is less clear to me why they hold such enmity to women. Indeed, they accord more respect to men, who hunt them, and whom they hunt, as worthy foes, than they do to women other than themselves....It is said that panther girls, conquered, make incredible slaves.
Hunters of Gor pgs: 28-29
Each band of panther girls customarily has a semi-permanent camp, particularly in the winter, but, too, each band, customarily, has its dancing circle.
Hunters of Gor pgs: 30
"A steel knife for each," I proposed to Sheera, "and twenty arrow points, of steel, for each."
"Forty arrow points for each, and the knives," said Sheera, cutting at the sand.
I could see she did not much want to conduct these negotiations. Her heart was not in the bargaining. She was angry.
"Very well," I said.
"And a stone of candies," she said, looking up, suddenly.
"Very well," I said.
"For each!" she demanded.
"Very well," I said.
She slapped her knees and laughed. The girls seemed delighted. There was little sugar in the forest, save naturally in certain berries, and simple hard candies, such as a child might buy in shops in Ar, or Ko-ro-ba, were, among the panther girls in the remote forests, prized. It was not unknown that among the bands in the forests, a male might be sold for as little as a handful of such candies. When dealing with men, however, the girls usually demanded, and received, goods of greater value to them, usually knives, arrow points, small spear points; sometimes armlets, and bracelets and necklaces, and mirrors; sometimes slave nets and slave traps, to aid in their hunting; sometimes slave chains, and manacles, to secure their catches.
Hunters of Gor pgs: 31
There was another sound from beyond the perimeter. I saw something white move in the darkness, stumbling between two panther girls.
A panther girl holding each arm, she was thrust into the camp. She was still braceleted, of course, but now her hands in the bracelets, with binding fiber, had been tied close to her belly. Her brief white garment had been torn to her waist. The fillet was gone from her hair. Sheera was thrust forward and forced to her knees, head down, by the fire. She had been much switched.
"We encountered this strayed slave," said the girl.
"She is mine," I said.
"Do you know who she was?" asked the girl.
I shrugged. "A slave," I said.
There was laughter from the girls beyond the perimeter, in the darkness. Sheera lowered her head still more.
"She was once a panther girl," said the girl. "She was once Sheera, the panther girl."
"Oh," I said.
The girl laughed. "She was a great rival to Verna. Verna now takes pleasure in returning her to you." The girl looked at Sheera. "You wear a collar well, Sheera," said she.
Sheera looked at her, her eyes glazed with pain.
Hunters of Gor pgs: 88-89
There is a Gorean saying that free women, raised gently in the high cylinders, in their robes of concealment, unarmed, untrained in weapons, may, by the slaver, be plucked like flowers.
There is no such saying pertaining to panther girls.
Hunters of Gor pgs: 118
She looked down at me, and laughed. "Any panther girl," she said, "who falls to men deserves the collar." She fingered the hilt of the knife. "There is a saying among panther girls," she said, "that say any girl who permits herself to fall to men desires in her heart to be their slave."
Hunters of Gor pgs: 133
Then, about me, the panther girls, circling, swaying, began a slow stalking dance, as of hunters. I lay in the center of the circle. Their movements were slow, and incredibly beautiful. Then suddenly one would cry out and thrust at me with her spear. But the spear was not thrust into my body. Its point would stop before it had administered its wound. Many of the blows would have been mortal. But many thrusts were only to my eyes, or arms and legs. Every bit of me began to feel exposed, threatened. I was their catch. Then the dance became progressively swifter and wilder, and the feigned blows became more frequent, and then, suddenly, with a wild cry, the swirling throng about me stood for an instant stock still, and then with a cry, each spear thrust down savagely toward my heart. I cried out. None of the spears had struck me. The girls cast aside the spears. Then, like feeding she-panthers they knelt about me, each one, with her hands and tongue, touching and kissing me. I cried out with anguish. I knew I could not long resist them.
Hunters of Gor pgs: 138
There was a long silence, of some Ihn, and then, at a nod from Hura, who threw her long black hair back and lifted her head to the moons, the drum began again its beat. Mira's head was down, and shaking. Her right foot was stamping. The panther girls put down their heads. I saw their fists begin to clench and unclench. They stood, scarcely moving, but I could sense the movement of the drum in their blood.
The men of Tyros glanced to one another. It was few free men who had ever looked, unbound, on the rites of panther girls. Hura's eyes were on the moons. She lifted her hands, fingers like claws, and screamed her need. The girls then, following her, began to dance.
How starved must be the lonely, hating panther women of the forests, so gross is their hostility, so fierce their hatred, and yet need, of men. They twisted, screaming now, clawing at the moons. I would scarcely have guessed at the primitive hungers evident in each movement of those barbaric, feline bodies. They would be masters of men. Proud, magnificent creatures. And yet by biology, by their beauty, by their aroused inwardness, could not, in fact, own but only, in their true fulfillment, belong, be taken, be conquered. The drum was now very heady, swift.
The dance of the panther girls became more wild, more frenzied. Vicious, sinuous, clawing, lithe, these savage beauties, in their skins and gold, with their knives, their light spears, weapons darting, danced. They were terrible, and beautiful, in the streaming, flooding light of the looming, primitive moons of perilous Gor. I could hear their cries of rage and need, hear their heels striking in the earth, their hands slapping at their thighs. I saw the teeth of some, white, bared, at the moons, their eyes blazing. The hair of all was unbound. Several had already, oblivious of the presence of the men of Tyros, torn away their skins to the waist, others completely. On some I could hear the movement of the necklaces of sleen teeth tied about their necks, the shivering and ringing of slender golden bangles on their tanned ankles. In their dance they danced among the staked-out bodies of the men of Marlenus, and about the great Ubar himself. Their weapons leapt at the bound men, but never did the blows fall.
The dance would soon strike its climax. It could continue little longer. The women would go mad with their need to strike and rape. Suddenly the drum stopped and Hura stopped, her body bent backward, her head back, her long black hair falling to the back of her knees. She was breathing deeply, very deeply. Her body was covered with a sheen of sweat.
Hunters of Gor pgs: 197
Slave girls, many of whom have been forced to yield themselves totally to a man, are an object of hatred to panther girls. They represent what the panther girl most fears and hates, her sex.
Hunters of Gor pgs: 201
Some girls attempt to flee to the greenwood forests of the north. In such forests, in certain territories, there roam bands of free women, the lithe, ferocious Panther Girls of Gor, but these despise and hate women not of their own fierce ilk; in particular do they revile and hold in contempt girls, beauties, who have been slaves to men; should such a girl, fleeing enter the cool vastness of their green domain, she is commonly hunted down like a tabuk doe and cruelly captured; the forests are not for such as she; she is tethered and bound, and often lashed, then driven by switches helplessly to the shores of Thassa or the banks of the Laurius, and then sold back to men, usually for weapons or candy.
Slave Girl of Gor pgs: 98
Menstrual Cycle/Period
Her hair was worn knotted in a bun on the top of her head, like that generally of the women of the read hunters. Their hair is worn loose, interestingly, out of doors, only during their menstrual period.
Beasts of Gor pgs: 193
"Perhaps," he said.
"Does Phoebe have her period?" I asked.
"No ," he said.
Magicians of Gor pgs: 163
Beasts of Gor pgs: 193
"Perhaps," he said.
"Does Phoebe have her period?" I asked.
"No ," he said.
Magicians of Gor pgs: 163
Children
The ancestors of some of them might have been Chaldeans or Celts or Syrians or Englishmen brought to this world over a period of centuries from different civilizations. But the children, of course, and their children eventually became simply Gorean. In the long ages on Gor almost all traces of Earth origin had vanished. Occasionally, however, an English Word in Gorean, like "ax" or "ship," would delight me. Certain other expressions seemed clearly to be of Greek or German origin. If I had been a skilled linguist, I undoubtedly would have discovered hundreds of parallels and affinities, grammatical and otherwise, between Gorean and various of the Earth Languages.
Tarnsman of Gor pgs: 45 | Chapter: 3:47
He entered my apartment, carrying a metal rod about two feet long, with a leather loop attached. It had a switch in the handle, which could be set in two position on and off, like a simple torch. He wore another such instrument slung from his belt. "This is not a weapon," he said. "It is not to be used as a weapon."
"What is it?" I asked.
"A tarn-goad," he replied. He snapped the switch in the barrel to the "on" position and struck the table. It showered sparks in a sudden cascade of yellow light, but left the table unmarked. He turned off the goad and extended it to me. As I reached for it, he snapped it on and slapped it in my palm. A billion tiny yellow sparks, like pieces of fiery needles, seemed to explode in my hand. I cried out in shock. I thrust my hand to my mouth. It had been like a sudden, severe electric charge, like the striking of a snake in my hand. I examined my hand; it was unhurt."Be careful of a tarn-goad," said the Older Tarl. "It is not for children." I took it from him, this time being careful to take it near the leather loop, which I fastened around my wrist.
Tarnsman of Gor pgs: 50 | Chapter: 3:74-76
The tarn continued to climb, and I saw the City of Cylinders dropping far below me, like a set of rounded children's blocks set in the gleaming green hills.
Tarnsman of Gor pgs: 56 | Chapter: 4:6
Without realizing what I was doing, I had shaken the two restraining tarnsmen from my arms as if they had been children, and I rushed on Marlenus and struck him violently in the face with my fist, causing him to reel backward, his face contorted with astonishment and pain.
Tarnsman of Gor pgs: 157 | Chapter: 14:42
Pa-Kur, for his part, demanded and was granted the usual savage fees imposed by the Gorean conqueror. The population would be completely disarmed. Possession of a weapon would be regarded as a capital offense. Officers in the Warrior Caste and their families were to be impaled, and in the population at large every tenth man would be executed. The thousand most beautiful women of Ar would be given as pleasure slaves to Pa-Kur, for distribution among his highest officers. Of the other free women, the healthiest and most attractive thirty percent would be auctioned to his troops in the Street of Brands, the proceeds going to the coffers of Pa-Kur. A levy of seven thousand young men would be taken to fill the depleted ranks of his siege slaves. Children under twelve would be distributed at random among the free cities of Gor. As for the slaves of Ar, they would belong to the first man who changed their collar.
Tarnsman of Gor pgs: 188-189 | Chapter: 17:10
I held the quivering plant up. Then I twisted it apart. Already my blood, black in the silvery night, mixed with the juices of the plant, stained the stem even to the roots. In a matter of perhaps two or three seconds, it had drawn perhaps a gill of liquid. With a shudder I hurled the loathsome plant away from the road. Normally such plants are cleared from the sides of the roads and from inhabited areas. They are primarily dangerous to children and small animals, but a grown man who might lose his footing among them would not be likely to survive.
Outlaw of Gor pgs: 34 | Chapter: 4:3
Then, soberly, though I acknowledged it as a superstition, I performed the Gorean ritual of looking into the blood. With my cupped hands I drank a mouthful of blood, and then, holding another in my hands, I waited for the next flash of lightning.
One looks into the blood in one's cupped hands. It is said that if one sees one's visage black and wasted one will die of disease, if one sees oneself torn and scarlet one will die in battle, if one sees oneself old and white haired, one will die in peace and leave children.
...
I drank the blood, completing the ritual.
Outlaw of Gor pgs: 38 | Chapter: 4:33-36
Wandering in the city I found myself in Tharna's marketplace. Though it was apparently a market day, judging from the numerous stalls of vegetables, the racks of meat under awnings, the tubs of salted fish, the cloths and trinkets spread out on the carpets before the seated, cross-legged merchants, there was none of the noisy clamor that customarily attends the Gorean market. I missed the shrill, interminable calls of the vendors, each different; the good-natured banter of friends in the marketplace exchanging gossip and dinner invitations; the shouts of burly porters threading their way through the tumult; the cries of children escaped from their tutors and playing tag among the stalls; the laughter of veiled girls teasing and being teased by young men, girls purportedly on errands for their families, yet somehow finding the time to taunt the young swains of the city, if only by a flash of their dark eyes and a perhaps too casual adjustment of their veil.
Outlaw of Gor pgs: 67 | Chapter: 8:9
The balance of mutual regard is always delicate and, statistically, it is improbable that it can long be maintained throughout an entire population. Accordingly, gradually exploiting, perhaps unconsciously, the opportunities afforded by the training of children and the affections of their men, the women of Tharna improved their position considerably over the generations, also adding to their social power the economic largesse of various funds and inheritances.
Outlaw of Gor pgs: 205-206
"...beneath the clawed paws of four squealing, snorting kaiila....
...the enraged, thundering kaiila, hissing and squealing, at a touch of the control straps, arrested their fierce charge, stopping themselves, tearing into the deep turf with suddenly emergent claws.
The children of the Wagon peoples are taught the saddle of the kaiila before the can walk."
Nomads of Gor pgs: 17
Here and there children ran between the wheels, playing with a cork ball and quiva, the object of the game being to strike the thrown ball.
Nomads of Gor pgs: 27
I was about to press Kamchak on this matter when we heard a sudden shout and the squealing of kaiila from among the wagons. I heard then the shouts of men and the cries of women and children. Kamchak lifted his head intently, listening. Then we heard the pounding of a small drum and two blasts on the horn of a bosk.
Nomads of Gor pgs: 33
Kamchak strode among the wagons, toward the sound, and I followed him closely. Many others, too, rushed to the sound, and we were jostled by armed warriors, scarred and fierce; by boys with unscarred faces, carrying the pointed sticks used often for goading the wagon bosk; by leather-clad women hurrying from the cooking pots; by wild, half-clothed children; even by enslaved Kajir-clad beauties of Turia; even the girl was there who wore but bells and collar, struggling under her burden, long dried strips of bosk meat, as wide as beams, she too hurrying to see what might be the meaning of the drum and horn, of the shouting Tuchuks.
Nomads of Gor pgs: 34
Watching us there were a few children, some men, some slave girls. As soon as Kamchak had agreed to Albrecht's proposal the children and several of the slave girls immediately began to rush toward the wagons, delightedly crying "Wager! Wager!"
Nomads of Gor pgs: 65-66
Some two hours later we reached the encampment of the Tuchuks and made our way among the wagons and the cooking pots and playing children.
Nomads of Gor pgs: 134
The word actually cried was “Kaissa,” which is Gorean for “Game.”
. . .
. . . even children find among their playthings the pieces of the game
. . .
It is not unusual to find even children of twelve or fourteen years who play with a depth and sophistication, a subtlety and a brilliance, that might be the envy of the chess masters of Earth.
Assassin of Gor pgs: 26-27
I fell down several times but the cart did not stop; each time I managed to regain my feet, though sometimes I was dragged for several yards before, nearly strangling, I managed to get up once more. Twice children tripped me; at least twice one of the guards with the butt of his spear did so. They laughed.
Assassin of Gor pgs: 283
The crowd was stirring in the stands. The caste colors of Gor seemed turbulent in the high tiers. Men rushed here and there securing the clay disks confirming their bets. Hawkers cried their wares. Here and there children ran about. The sky was a clear blue, dotted by clouds. The sun was shining. It was a good day for the races.
Assassin of Gor pgs: 361
My ankles had been unbound only long enough to push me stumbling from the rush craft, among the shouting women and men and children, to the throne of Ho-Hak.
Raiders of Gor pgs: 14
Over her shoulder were slung the four birds she had caught in the marshes, their necks were now broken and they were tied together, two in front and two over her back. There were other women about as well, and here and there, peering between the adults I could see children.
Raiders of Gor pgs: 16
I did not even much care that I might spend the rest of my life as an abject slave, abused on a rence island, the sport of a girl or children, the butt of cruelty and jests of men.
Raiders of Gor pgs: 30
The smaller children played together, the boys playing games with small nets and reed marsh spears, the girls with rence dolls, or some of the older ones sporting with throwing sticks, competing against one another.
Raiders of Gor pgs: 41
There were children about the periphery of the circles but many of them were already asleep on the rence.
Raiders of Gor pgs: 43
Everywhere about us there were shouting men, screaming women, running, crying children, and everywhere, it seemed, the men of Port Kar, and their slaves, holding torches aloft, burning like the eyes of predators in the marsh night. A boy ran past. It was he who had given me a piece of rence cake in the morning, when I had been bound at the pole, who had been punished by his mother for so doing.
Raiders of Gor pgs: 53
The men shouted. Women cursed, and screamed their hatred of the panther girls. Children cried out and pelted them with pebbles. Slave girls in the crowd rushed forward to surge about the carts, to poke at them with sticks, strike them with switches and spit upon them.
Captive of Gor pgs: 213
There must have been two hundred or more peasants, men, children and women, all shouting, and beating on their kettles or pans. The women and children carried sticks and switches, the men spears, flails, forks and clubs.
They were too close together, there were too many of them!
A child saw me and he cried out and began to beat more loudly on his pan.
Captive of Gor pgs: 249
Women and children, too, in the dusty square crowded about. I heard some clanging of pans. I saw sticks in the hands of some of the children.
Captive of Gor pgs: 253
It could perhaps be mentioned that such work, cooking, cleaning and laundering, and such, is commonly regarded as being beneath even free women, particularly those of high caste. In the high cylinders, in Gorean cities, there are often public slaves who tend the central kitchens in cylinders, care for the children, but may not instruct them, and, for a tiny fee to the city, clean compartments and do laundering. Thus even families who cannot afford to own and feed a slave often have the use of several such unfortunate girls, commonly captured from hostile cities. Free women often treat such girls with great cruelty, and the mere word of a free woman, that she is displeased with the girl’s work, is enough to have the girl beaten. The girls strive zealously in their work to please the free women. Such girls, also, have a low use-rent, payable to the city, should young males wish to partake of their pleasures. Here again, the mere word of the free person, that he is not completely pleased, is enough to earn the miserable girl a severe beating. Accordingly, she struggles to please him with all her might. It is not pleasant, I fear, to be a public slave. The Gorean free woman, often, does only what work she chooses. If she does not wish to prepare a meal, she and her companion may go to the public tables, or, should they wish, order a girl to bring them food from the central kitchens.
Captive of Gor pgs: 317
Men, and women and children, were lining the side street, and others were pouring in from the street before the tavern.
We heard the beating of a drum and the playing of flutes.
“What is going on?” I asked a fellow, of the metal workers.
“It is a judicial enslavement,” he said.
Hunters of Gor pgs: 48
That he had once played a man such as Scormus of Ar or Centius of Cos is the sort of thing that a Gorean grandfather will boast of to his grandchildren.
Hunters of Gor pgs: 148
In Gorean thinking man and woman are natural animals, with genetic endowments shaped by thousands of generations of natural and sexual selection. Their actions and behavior, thus, though not independent of certain long-range environmental and sexual relationships, cannot be understood in terms of mere responses to the immediately present environment.
The immediate environment determines what behavior will be successful, not what behavior is performed. Woman, like man, is the product of evolution, and, like man, is a complex genetic product, a product not only of natural selections but sexual selections. Natural selections suggest that a woman who wished to belong to a man, who wished to remain with him, who wished to have children, who wished to care for them, who loved them, would have an advantage, in the long run, as far as her genetic type was concerned, of surviving, over a woman who did not care for men, who did not wish children, and so on. Female freedom, of a full sort, would not have been biologically practical. The loving mother is a type favored by evolution. It is natural then that in modern woman certain instincts should be felt. The sparrow does not feed her young because the society has fooled her into playing that exploitative role. Similarly, sexual selection, as well as natural selection, is a significant dynamic of evolution, without which it is less comprehensible. Men, being stronger, have had, generally, the option of deciding on women that please them. If women had been stronger, as in the spiders, for example, we might have a different race.
It is not unlikely that men, over the generations, have selected out for breeding, for marriage, women of certain sorts. Doubtless women are much more beautiful now than a hundred generations ago. Similarly a woman who was particularly ugly, threatening, vicious, stupid, cruel, etc., would not be a desirable mate. No man can be blamed for not wishing to make his life miserable. Accordingly, statistically, he tends to select out women who are intelligent, loving and beautiful. Accordingly, men have, in effect, bred a certain kind of woman. Similarly, of course, in so far as choice has been theirs, women have tended to select out men who are, among other things intelligent, energetic and strong. Few women, in their hearts, despite propaganda, really desire weak, feminine men. Such men, at any rate, are not those who figure in their sexual fantasies.
Goreans believe it is the nature of a man to own, that of a woman to be owned.
Hunters of Gor pgs: 311-312
The initiates are an almost universal, well-organized, industrious caste. They have many monasteries, holy places and temples. An initiate may often travel for hundreds of pasangs and, each night, find himself in a house of initiates. They regard themselves as the highest caste, and, in many cities, are so regarded generally. There is often a tension between them and the civil authorities, for each regards himself as supreme in matters of policy and law for their districts. The initiates have their own laws, and courts, and certain of them are particularly versed in the laws of initiates. Their education, generally, is of little obvious practical value, with its attention to authorized exegeses of dubious, difficult text, purporting to be revelations of Priest-Kings, the details and observances of their own calendars, their interminable, involved rituals, and so on, but, paradoxically, this sot of learning, impractical though it appears, has a subtle practical aspect. It tends to bind initiates together, making them interdependent, and much different from common men. It sets them apart, and makes them feel important and wise, and specially privileged. There are many texts, of course which are secret to the caste, and not even available to scholars generally. In these it is rumored there are marvelous spells and mighty magic, particularly if read backward on certain feast days. Whereas initiates tend not to be taken with great seriousness by the high castes, or the more intelligent members of the population, except in matters of political alliance, their teachings and purported ability to intercede with Priest-Kings, and further the welfare of their adherents, is taken with great seriousness by many of the lower castes. And many men, who suspect that the initiates, in their claims and pretensions, are frauds, will nonetheless avoid coming into conflict with the caste. This is particularly true of civic leaders who do not wish the power of the initiates to turn the lower castes against them. And, after all, who knows much of Priest-Kings, other than the obvious fact that they exist. The invisible barrier about the Sardar is evidence of that, and the policing, by flame death, of illegal weapons and inventions. The Gorean knows that there are Priest-Kings. He does not, of course, know their nature. That is where the role of the initiates becomes most powerful. The Gorean knows there are Priest-Kings, whoever or whatever they might be. He is also confronted with a socially and economically powerful caste that pretends to be able to intermediate between Priest-Kings and common folk. What if some of the claims of Initiates should be correct? What if they do have influence with Priest-Kings?
The common Gorean tends to play it safe and honor the Initiates. He will, however, commonly, have as little to do with them as possible. This does not mean he will not contribute to their temples and fees for placating Priest-Kings. The attitude of Priest-Kings toward Initiates, as I recalled, having once been in the Sardar, is generally one of disinterest. They are regarded as being harmless. They are taken by many Priest-Kings as an evidence of the aberrations of the human kind. Incidentally, it is a teaching of the initiates that only initiates can obtain eternal life. The regimen for doing this has something to do with learning mathematics, and with avoiding the impurities of meat and beans. This particular teaching of the initiates, it is interesting to note, is that taken least seriously by the general population. No one, except possibly, initiates, takes it with much seriousness. The Gorean feeling generally is that there is no reason why initiates, or only initiates, should live forever. Initiates, though often feared by the lower castes, are also regarded as being a bit odd, and often figure in common, derisive jokes. No female, incidently, may become an Initiate. It is a consequence, thusly, that no female can obtain eternal life. I have often thought that the Initiates, if somewhat more clever, could have a much greater power than they possess on Gor. For example, if they could fuse their superstitions and lore, and myths, with a genuine moral message, of one sort or another, they might appeal more seriously to the general population; if they spoke more sense people would be less sensitive to, or disturbed by, the nonsense; further, they should teach that all Goreans might, by following their rituals, obtain eternal life; that would broaden the appeal of their message, and subtly utilize the fear of death to further their projects; lastly, they should make greater appeal to women than they do, for, in most Gorean cities, women, of one sort or another, care for and instruct the children in the crucial first years. That would be the time to imprint them, while innocent and trusting, at the mother's or nurse's knee, with superstitions which might, in simpler brains, subtly control them the length of their lives. So simple an adjustment as the promise of eternal life to women who behaved in accordance with their teachings, instructing the young, and so on, might have much effect. But the initiates, like many Gorean castes, were tradition bound. Besides, they were quite powerful as it was. Most Goreans took with some seriousness their claim to be able to place and influence Priest-Kings. That was more than they needed for considerable power.
Maurauders of Gor pgs: 37-39
. . . lastly, they should make greater appeal to women than they do, for, in most Gorean cities, women, of one sort or another, care for and instruct the children in the crucial first years. That would be the time to imprint them, while innocent and trusting, at the mother’s or nurse’s knee, with superstitions which might, in simpler brains, subtly control then the length of their lives. So simple an adjustment as the promise of eternal life to women who behaved in accordance with their teachings, instructing the young and so on, might have much effect. But the initiates, like many Gorean castes, were tradition bound.
Maurauders of Gor pgs: 39
When the war arrow is carried, of course, all free men are to respond; in such a case the farm may suffer, and his companion and children know great hardship; in leaving his family, the farmer, weapons upon his shoulder, speaks simply to them. “The war arrow has been carried to my house,” he tells them.
Maurauders of Gor pgs: 142
. . the tiny, six-toed rock tharlarion of southern Torvaldsland, favored for their legs and tails, which are speared by children.
Maurauders of Gor pgs: 152
Some of the peppers and spices, relished even by children in the Tahari districts, were sufficient to convince an average good fellow of Thentis or Ar that the roof of his mouth and his tongue were being torn out of his head.
Tribesmen of Gor pgs: 46
Once she stole a date. I did not whip her. I chained her, arms over her head, back against the trunk, to a flahdah tree. I permitted nomad children to discomfit her. They are fiendish little beggars. They tickled her with the lanceolate leaves of the tree. They put honey about her, to attract the tiny black sand flies, which infest such water holes in the spring.
Tribesmen of Gor pgs: 81
When she had left the room she had used the runner at the side of the room. Rooms in private dwellings, in the Tahari, if rich, usually are floored with costly rugs. The rooms are seldom crossed directly, in order to prevent undue wear on the rugs; long strips of ruglike material line the edges of the room; these are commonly used in moving from room to room; children, servants, slaves, women, commonly negotiate the rooms by keeping on the runners, near the walls. Men commonly do also, if guests are not present.
Tribesmen of Gor pgs: 157
I supposed, further, that the rare event had here taken place of a girl meeting her true master, and a man his true slave girl. The girl, one among thousands less fortunate, had encountered a male, surely, too, one among thousands, who could be, and was, to her and for her, her absolute and natural master, the ideal and perfect male for her, dominant and uncompromising, who could, and would, demand and get her full, yielding sexuality, which a woman can give only to a man who owns her totally, before whom, and to whom, she can be only an adoring slave. This happens almost never on Earth, where the normal male/female relationship is the result of a weak, pleasant male’s releasing of the female’s maternal instinct, rather than her usually frustrated instinct to submit herself fully to a truly dominant male as a held and owned, penetrated, submissive female; it does occur, however, with some frequency on Gor, where girls, slaves, are more frequently traded and exchanged. One tries different girls until one finds she, or those, who are the most exquisite, the most pleasing; one tends then, to keep them; this tends, too, to work out to the advantage of the women, the female slaves, but few, except themselves, are concerned with them, or their feelings; men, it is clear, have a need to dominate; few deny this; none deny it who are informed; in the Gorean culture, as it is not on Earth, institutions exist for the satisfaction of this need, rather than its systematic suppression and frustration; the major Gorean institution satisfying this need is the widespread enslavement of human females; the master/slave relationship is the deepest, clearest recognition of, and concession to, this masculine need, felt by all truly vital, sexual males; but, in the Gorean theory, this masculine need to dominate, which, thwarted, leads to misery, sickness, and petty, vicious, meaningless aggressions, is not an aberration, nor an uncomplemented biological singularity in males, but has its full complementary, correspondent need in the human female, which is the need, seldom satisfied, to be overwhelmed and mastered; in primitive mate competitions, in which intelligence and cunning, and physical and psychological power, were of biological importance, rather than wealth and status, the best women, statistically, would fall to the strongest, most intelligent men; it is possible, and likely, that women, or the best women, were once fought for, literally, as well as symbolically, as possessions; if this were the case then it is likely that something in the female, genetically, would respond to dominance and strength; most women do not, truly, want weak men; they wish their children to be born not to an equal but a superior; how could they respect a man who in stature and power was no more than themselves, the equal of a woman, a prize; given the choice to bear the child of an equal, or a master, most women would choose to bear the child of a master; women long to bear the children of men superior to themselves; it is a defeated woman whose body grows fat with the child only of an equal; just as evolution, at one time, selected for strong, intelligent men, capable of combat, because they were successful in mate competitions, so, too, correspondingly, in the transmission of genetic structures, it would be selecting for women who responded to, and yielded to, such men, women who were the biologically specified and rightful property of such men, our ancestors The dominant male is thus selected for in mate competition; the undominant male tends, statistically, to lose out to his stronger, more intelligent foe; correspondingly, evolution selected for the female who responds to the dominant male; she who fled such men either mated with weaker men, her children then being less well adapted for survival, or, perhaps, fled away, and her genes were lost, for better or for worse, to the struggling human groups; the female who was excited by such men, and longed to belong to them, to masters, and keep by them and serve them, had the best chance of survival; she was the best protected; her children would be the best protected; further, her children would be more intelligent and stronger, being the offspring of more intelligent and stronger men; her lusts, and her love of being owned by such men, and her pride in their possession of her, would contribute substantially to not only her survival but that of her children; too, the woman would, over generations, become more beautiful and desirable, and sexually exciting, as vital males exercising their masculine prerogatives selected among the daughters of the daughters of such women; men chose for mating women who pleased them, and women who pleased them were not the ugly, the gross, the belligerent and stupid, but the intelligent, loving, desirable and beautiful; the twin dynamics of evolution, natural and sexual selection, thus formed over thousands of years the biological nature of the human female; originally there might have been only random tendencies to respond to masculine domination, but those who had them had the best chance of survival; such tendencies were then transmitted, becoming pervasive genetic characteristics of women; owned women lived, the most beautiful and best of these were selected by the strongest, most intelligent and powerful men; it is from such intricate workings of nature that has come the intelligent, beautiful, sensitive woman, the feminine woman, with full complement of normal feminine hormones, who longs in her heart to lie lovingly, obediently, excitedly in the arms of a strong man, his woman; beyond this, one might note that dominance and submission are genetically pervasive in the animal kingdom; among mammals in general, and primates universally, it is the male who dominates and the female who submits; this is not an aberration; the aberration is its conditioned frustration, possible, interestingly enough, only in an animal complicated enough to be subject to extensive conditioning regimes, where words may be used to induce counterinstinctual responses, to the detriment and misery of the individual organism, though perhaps subservient to a given conception of economic and social relationships. We are bred hunters; we are made farmers.
Tribesmen of Gor pgs: 163-165
"the rare event had here taken place of a girl meeting her true master, and a man his true slave girl. the girl one among thousands less fortunate, had encountered a male, surely, too, one among thousands, who could be, and was, to her and for her, her absolute and natural master, the ideal and perfect male for her, dominant and uncompromising, who, could, and would, demand and get her full, yielding sexuality, which a woman can give only to a man who owns her totally, before whom, and to whom, she can be only an adoring slave.
This happens almost, never on Earth, where the normal male/female relationship in the result of a weak, pleasant male's releasing of the female's natural instinct, rather than her usually frustrated instinct to submit herself fully to a truly dominant male, as a held and owned, penetrated, submissive female; it does occur, however, with some frequency on Gor, where girls, slaves, are more frequently traded and exchanged. One tries different girls, until one finds her, or those who are the most exquisite, the most pleasing; one tends then, to keep them this tends, too, to work out the the advantage of the women, the female slaves, but few, except themselves, are concerned with them, or their feelings; men, it is clear, have a need to dominate; few deny this; none deny it who are informed; in the Gorean culture, as it is not on Earth, institutions exist for the satisfaction of this need, rather than its systematic suppression and frustration; the major Gorean institutions satisfying this need, is the widespread enslavement of human females; the massive/slave relationship is the deepest, clearest recognition of, and obsession to, this masculine need, felt by all truly vital, sexual males; but in the Gorean theory, this masculine need to dominate, which, thwarted, leads to misery, sickness and petty, vicious, meaningless aggressions, is not a aberration, nor has an unconditional biological singularity in males, but has its full complementary, correspondent need in the human female, which is the need, seldom satisfied, to be overwhelmed and mastered, in primitive mate competitions, in which intelligence and cunning, and physical and psychological power, were of biological importance, rather than wealth and status, the best women, statistically, would fall to the strongest, most intelligent men; it is possible, and likely, that women, or the best women, were once fought for, literally, as well as symbolically, as possessions; if this were the case then it is likely that something in the female, genetically, would respond to dominance and strength; most women do not, truly, want weak men; they wish their children to be born not to an want equal but a superior; how could they respect a man who in stature and power was not more than themselves, the equal of a woman, a price; given the choice to bear the child of an equal, or a master, most woman would choose to bear the child of a master; woken long to bear the children of men superior to themselves; it is a defeated woman whose body grows fat with the child only of an equal; just a evolution, at one time selected for strong, intelligent men, capable of combat, because they re successful in mate competitions, so, too, correspondingly, in the transmission g genetic structures, it would be selecting for women who responded to, and yielded to, such men, women who were the biologically specified and rightful property of such men, our ancestors, ..the dominate male is thus sleeted for in mate competition; the statistically male tends, statistically, to lose out his stronger, more intelligent foe; correspondingly, evolution selected for the female who responds the the dominant male; she who fled such men wither mater with weaker men, her children then being less well adapted for survival, or perhaps, fled away, and her genes were lost, for better or for worse, to the struggling human groups; the female who was excited by such men, and longed to belong to them, to masters, and keep by them and serve them, had the best chance of survival; she was the best p
Tribesmen of Gor pgs: 163-163
The children of nomads, both male and female, until they are five or six years of age, wear no clothing. During the day they do not venture from the shade of the tents. At night, as the sun goes down, they emerge happily from the tents and romp and play. They are taught written Taharic by their mothers, who draw the characters in the sand, during the day, in the shade of the tents. Most of the nomads in this area were Tashid, which is a tribe vassal to the Aretai. It might be of interest to note that children of the nomads are suckled for some eighteen months, which is nearly twice the normal length of time for Earth infants, and half again the normal time for Gorean infants. These children, if it is significant, are almost, uniformly secure in their families, sturdy, outspoken and serf-reliant. Among the nomads, interestingly, an adult will always listen to a child. He is of the tribe. Another habit of nomads, or of nomad mothers, is to frequently bathe small children, even if it is only with a cloth and a cup of water. There is a very low infant mortality rate among nomads, in spite of their limited diet and harsh environment.
Tribesmen of Gor pgs: 170-171
"Whereas caste membership is commonly connected with the practice of an occupation, such as agriculture, or commerce, or war, there can be, of course, caste members who are not engaged in caste work and individuals who do certain forms of work who are not members of that caste commonly associated with such work. Caste, commonly, though not invariably, is a matter of birth. One may, too, be received into a caste by investment. Normally mating takes place among caste members, but if the mating is of mixed caste, the woman may elect to retain caste, which is commonly done, or be received into the caste of the male companion. Caste membership of the children born of such a union is a function of the caste of the father."
Slave Girl of Gor pgs: 212-213
Normally mating takes place among caste members, but if the mating is of mixed caste, the woman may elect to retain caste, which is commonly done, or be received into the caste of the male companion. Caste membership of the children born of such a union is a function of the caste of the father.
Slave Girl of Gor pgs: 213
Gorean culture tends to view the body, its development, its appetites and needs, with congeniality. We do not grow excited about the growth of trees, and Goreans do not grow excited about the growth of people. In some respects the Goreans are, perhaps, cruel. Yet they have never seen fit, through lies, to inflict suffering on children. They seem generally to me to be fond of children. Perhaps that is why they seldom hurt them. Even slave children, incidentally, are seldom abused or treated poorly, and are given much freedom, until they reach their young adulthood. It is then, of course, that they are taught that they are slaves. Men come, and the young male is tied and taken to the market. If the young slave is a female she may or may not be sent to a market. Many young slave maidens are raised almost as daughters in a home. It is often a startling and frightening day for such a girl when, one morning, she finds herself suddenly, unexpectedly, put in a collar and whipped, and made to begin to pay the price of her now-blossomed slave beauty.
Beasts of Gor pgs: 155
Sometimes a girl, winning love, is freed, perhaps to bear the children of a former master.
Beasts of Gor pgs: 235
I did know the red hunters were extremely permissive with their children, even among Goreans. They very seldom scolded them and would almost never strike a child. They protected them as they could. Soon enough the children would learn. Until that time let them be children.
Beasts of Gor pgs: 266
Most families in Port Kar own their own boats. These boats are generally shallow-drafted, narrow and single-oared, the one oar being used to both propel and guide the boat. Even children use these boats.
Explorers of Gor pgs: 61
Though one is commonly born into a caste one is often not permitted to practice the caste craft until a suitable apprenticeship has been served. This guarantees the quality of the caste product. It is possible, though it is seldom the case, that members of a caste are not permitted to practice specific caste skills, though they may be permitted to practice subsidiary skills. For example, one who is of the Metalworkers might not be permitted to work iron, but might be permitted to do such things as paint iron, and transport and market it. Caste rights, of course, such as the right to caste support in time of need and caste sanctuary, when in flight, which are theirs by birth, remain theirs. The women of a given caste, it should be noted, often do not engage in caste work. For example, a woman in the Metalworkers does not, commonly, work at the forge, nor is a woman of the Builders likely to be found supervising the construction of fortifications. Caste membership, for Goreans, is generally a simple matter of birth; it is not connected necessarily with the performance of certain skills, nor the attainment of a given level of proficiency in such skills. To be sure, certain skills tend to be associated traditionally with certain castes, a fact which is clearly indicated in caste titles, such as the Leatherworkers, the Metalworkers, the Singers, and the Peasants. A notable exception to the generalization that women of a given caste normally do not engage in caste work is the caste of Physicians, whose women are commonly trained, as are the boys, in the practice of medicine. Even the physicians, however, normally do not admit their women to full practice until they have borne two children. The purpose of this is to retain a high level of intelligence in the caste. Professional women, it is well understood, tend not to reproduce themselves, a situation which, over time, would be likely to produce a diminution in the quality of the caste. Concern for the future of the caste is thus evinced in this limitation by the physicians on the rights of their women to participate without delay in the caste craft. The welfare of the caste, typically, takes priority in the Gorean mind over the ambitions of specific individuals. The welfare of a larger number of individuals, as the Goreans reason, correctly or incorrectly, is more important than the welfare of a smaller number of individuals.
Fighting Slave of Gor pgs: 209-210
I could smell perfumes and their mixings in the long shop behind the counter. There, at various benches, attending to their work, measuring and stirring, were apprentice perfumers. Though one is commonly born into a caste one is often not permitted to practice the caste craft until a suitable apprenticeship has been served. This guarantees the quality of the caste product. It is possible, though it is seldom the case, that members of a caste are not permitted to practice specific caste skills, though they may be permitted to practice subsidiary skills. For example, one who is of the Metalworkers might not be permitted to work iron, but might be permitted to do such things as paint iron, and transport and market it. Caste rights, of course, such as the right to caste support in time of need and caste sanctuary, when in flight, which are theirs by birth, remain theirs. The women of a given caste, it should be noted, often do not engage in caste work. For example, a woman in the Metalworkers does not, commonly, work at the forge, nor is a woman of the Builders likely to be found supervising the construction of fortifications. Caste membership, for Goreans, is generally a simple matter of birth; it is not connected necessarily with the performance of certain skills, nor the attainment of a given level of proficiency in such skills. To be sure, certain skills tend to be associated traditionally with certain castes, a fact which is clearly indicated in caste titles, such as the Leatherworkers, the Metalworkers, the Singers, and the Peasants. A notable exception to the generalization that women of a given caste normally do not engage in caste work is the caste of Physicians, whose women are commonly trained, as are the boys, in the practice of medicine. Even the physicians, however, normally do not admit their women to full practice until they have borne two children. The purpose of this is to retain a high level of intelligence in the caste. Professional women, it is well understood, tend not to reproduce themselves, a situation which, over time, would be likely to produce a diminution in the quality of the caste. Concern for the future of the caste is thus evinced in this limitation by the physicians on the rights of their women to participate without delay in the caste craft. The welfare of the caste, typically, takes priority in the Gorean mind over the ambitions of specific individuals. The welfare of a larger number of individuals, as the Goreans reason, correctly or incorrectly, is more important than the welfare of a smaller number of individuals. I do not argue this. I only report it.
“My thanks, Lady Teela,” said Turbus Veminius, proprietor of the shop, accepting coins and handing to a robed woman a tiny vial of perfume. She then left.
The woman of the Physicians, at the age of fifteen, in many cities, wears two bracelets on her left wrist. When she has one child one bracelet is removed; when she has a second child the second bracelet is removed. She may then, if she desires, enter into the full practice of her craft. Turbus Veminius then turned his attention to another customer.
Caste is important to the Gorean in ways that are difficult to make clear to one whose social structures do not include the relationships of caste. In almost every city, for example, one knows that there will be caste brothers on whom one may depend. Charity, too, for example, is almost always associated with caste rights on Gor. One of the reasons there are so few outlaws on Gor is doubtless that the outlaw, in adopting his way of life, surrenders caste rights. The slave, too, of course, has no caste rights. He stands outside the structure of society. He is an animal. It is said on Gor that only slaves, outlaws and Priest-Kings, rumored to be the rulers of Gor, reputed to live in the remote Sardar Mountains, are without caste. This saying, however, it might be pointed out, as Goreans recognize, is not strictly true. For example, some individuals have lost caste, or been deprived of caste; some individuals have been born outside of caste; certain occupations are not traditionally associated with caste, such as gardening, domestic service and herding; and, indeed, there are entire cultures and peoples on Gor to whom caste is unknown. Similarly, caste lines tend sometimes to be vague, and the relation between castes and subcastes. Slavers, for example, sometimes think of themselves as being of the Merchants, and sometimes as being a separate caste. They do have their own colors, blue and yellow, those of the Merchants being white and gold. Too, are the bargemen of the Southern Cartius a caste or not? They think of themselves as such, but many do not see the matter in the same light. There are, on Gor, it might be mentioned, ways of raising and altering caste, but the Gorean seldom avails himself of these. To most Goreans it would be unthinkable to alter caste. He is generally too proud of his caste and it is too much a part of him for him to think in such terms. It is, too, recognized that all, or most, of the castes perform necessary, commendable or useful functions. The Leatherworker, accordingly, does not spend much time envying the Metalworker, or the Metalworker the Leatherworker, or either the Clothworker, and so on. All need sandals and wallets, and clothes, and metal tools. Each does, however, tend to think of his own caste as something special, and, somehow, I suspect, as being perhaps a little bit preferable to the others. Most Goreans are quite content with their castes; this is probably a function of caste pride. I have little doubt but what the caste structure contributes considerably to the stability of Gorean society. Among other things it reduces competitive chaos, social and economic, and prevents the draining of intelligence and ambition into a small number of envied, prestigious occupations. If one may judge by the outcome of Kaissa tournaments, amateur tournaments as opposed to those in which members of the caste of Players participate, there are brilliant men in most castes.
Fighting Slave of Gor pgs: 209-211
Any person on the street, seeing us, would know what we were. Even children would know us as mere slaves, for, categorically, and legally, that is what we would be.
Rogue of Gor pgs: 212
"The dressing of slaves, incidentally, is an interesting and intricate pastime. The slave is almost never totally nude. Her body is marked almost always with some token of her condition, which is bond. This is usually a collar, but it may also be an anklet, sometimes belled, or a bracelet. Her brand, of course, fixed in her very flesh, deep and lovely, is always worn. There is no mistaking it. The iron has seen to that. Beyond theses things, much depends on the individual girl and on her particular master of the time. Individual taste is here supreme. To be sure, there are natural congruencies and proprieties which are generally observed.
For example, although one may see a girl in the streets, naked save for, say, her brand and collar, or a bit of chain, this is not common. This sort of thing is done, usually, only as a discipline. Free Women tend to object, for the eyes of their companions tend almost inadvertently to stray to the exposed flesh of such girls. Perhaps, too, they are angry that they themselves are not permitted to present themselves so brazenly and lusciously before men. Needless to say it is difficult for Men to keep their minds on business when such girls are among them. Perhaps this is the reason that magistrates tend to frown upon the practice. After all, Goreans are only human.
In a family house, of course, girls are almost always modestly garbed. Children of many houses might be startled if they could see the transformation which takes place in their pretty Didi or Lale, whom they know as their nurse, governess and playmate, when she is in their absence or after their bedtime, ordered to the chamber of one of the young masters, there to dance lasciviously before him, and then to be had, and as a slave.
Context determines much. If a young man is giving a proper and refined dinner, his girl, modestly attired, will commonly serve it, shyly and deferentially, quietly and self-effacingly, as befits a slave. She may even draw commendations from his mother, pleased that he has purchased such a modest, useful girl. In a dinner given for his rowdy male companions, of course, in which even unmixed wines might be served, she, obedient, writhing and sensuous, is quite a different girl. Perhaps he has even purchased her some training, from local slave masters. His guests, uncontrolled in their desire, driven half mad with passion, will mightily envy him his girl. Perhaps he, in Gorean hospitality, will share her with them, but, in the end, when they have gone, it is at the foot of his own couch that she, licking and kissing, and begging, will be chained.
The main purpose of slave garments, of course, is not particularly to clothe the girl, for she need not even be clothed, as she is an animal, but to, as I have suggested, `set her off.` In this sense slave garments may be as resplendent and complex as the robes of an enslaved Ubara, to be removed by the general who has captured her upon a platform of public humiliation, or as simple as the cords on a girl`s wrists and a piece of rope knotted on her throat.
Additional functions of slave garments, of course, other than those of displaying the girl and making it clear to all how desirable she is, are to remind her, clearly, that she is a slave, which is useful in her discipline, and, also, interestingly, to stimulate, intensify and deepen her sexuality. It is impossible for a woman to dress and act as a slave, and be enslaved, in full legality, and not, sooner or later, understand that she is really what she seems to be, a slave."
Guardsman of Gor pgs: 105-109
The children that we passed in the streets, playing at marbles or stone toss, scarcely glanced up. Two children, however, one boy and one girl, did run and strike the slave. Two children, however, one boy and one girl, did run and strike the slave. She started, and squirmed, on my shoulder under the blows.
I did not admonish the children. First, it was nothing to me that they had struck her, for she was a slave. Secondly, they were free persons, and free persons on Gor may do much what they please. It is slaves who must be careful of their behavior, lest free persons find it displeasing. The boy who had struck her, I believe, had been in a fit of ill temper. I think he had just lost at stone toss.
The girl, on the other hand, I think, had had far different motivations. She had not been involved in the game, but had only been watching it. Yet she had struck the slave by far the cruelest blow. Already she had learned, as a free woman, that female slaves are to be despised and beaten. The hatred of the free woman on Gor for the female slave is an interesting phenomenon. There are probably many reasons for this.
Among them, however, would seem to be a jealousy of the female slave’s desirability and beauty, a resentment of the interest of free men in imbonded women, and an envy of the slave girl’s psychological and biological fulfillments, and emotional freedom and joy. Something of the same hatred and contempt tends to be felt by masculine women on Earth towards feminine women. Perhaps they hate what they are not, and perhaps cannot be. The Gorean slave girl, incidentally, can be terrorized by the mere thought that she might be sold to a free woman. I glanced at the girl who had struck the slave. She was comely. I wondered if she might one day fall slave. If so, she, too, in her turn, would surely learn to fear free women.
Guardsman of Gor pgs: 197-198
“You, yourself,” I said, “do not seem much infected by the lunacy of the Waniyanpi.”
“No,” she said. “I am not. I have had red masters. From them I have learned new truths. Too, I was taken from the community at an early age.”
“How old were you?” I asked.
“I was taken from the enclosure when I was eight years old,” she said, “taken home by a Kaiila warrior as a pretty little white slave for his ten-year-old son. I learned early to please and placate men.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“There is little more to tell,” she said. “For seven years I was the slave of my young master. He was kind to me, and protected me, muchly, from the other children. Although I was only his slave, I think he liked me. He did not put me in a leg stretcher until I was fifteen.”
Savages of Gor pgs: 236
Some of these rode kaiila to which travois were attached. Some had cradles slung about the pommels of their saddles. These cradles, most of them, are essentially wooden frames on which are fixed leather, open-fronted enclosures, opened and closed by lacings, for the infant. The wooden frame projects both above and below the enclosure for the infant. In particular it contains two sharpened projections at the top, like picket spikes, extending several inches above the point where the baby’s head will be located. This is to protect the infant’s head in the event of the cradle falling, say, from the back of a running kaiila. Such a cradle will often, in such a case, literally stick upside down in the earth. The child, then, laced in the enclosure, protected and supported by it, is seldom injured.
Such cradles, too, vertical, are often hung from a lodge pole or in the branches of a tree. In the tree, of course, the wind, in its rocking motion, can lull the infant to sleep. Older children often ride on the skins stretched between travois poles. Sometimes their fathers or mothers carry them before them, on the kaiila. When a child is about six, if his family is well-fixed, he will commonly have his own kaiila. The red savage, particularly the males, will usually be a skilled rider by the age of seven. Bareback riding, incidentally, is common in war and the hunt. In trading and visiting, interestingly, saddles are commonly used. This is perhaps because they can be decorated lavishly, adding to one’s appearance, and may serve, in virtue of the pommel, primarily, as a support for provisions, gifts and trade articles.
“It is simply splendid,” said Cuwignaka, happily.
“Yes,” I said.
Children, too, I noted, those not in cradles, greased, their hair braided, their bodies and clothing ornamented, in splendid finery, like miniature versions of the adults, some riding, some sitting on the skins stretched between travois poles, participated happily and proudly, or bewilderedly, in this handsome procession.
Blood Brothers of Gor pgs: 26
From the lodges near the edge of the escarpment men again drew forth travois. On these were great bundles of arrows, hundreds of arrows in a bundle. Many of these arrows were not fine arrows. Many lacked even points and were little more than featherless, sharpened sticks. Yet, impelled with force from the small, fierce bows of the red savages at short range, they, too, would be dangerous. For days warriors, and women and children, had been making them.
Blood Brothers of Gor pgs: 415
The people of Corcyrus, it was clear, had welcomed the men of from Ar, as liberators. The colors of Argentum and of Ar, on ribbons and strips of cloth, angled from windows and festooned, even being stretched between windows and rooftops overhead, the triumphal way. Such colors, too, were prominent in the crowd, on garments being waved, fluttering, by citizens and sometimes even children, perched on the shoulders of adults.
Kajira of Gor pgs: 189
“We wish you well, noble captain,” said Chino, shaking Petrucchio’s hand, warmly. “I do not think we shall soon forget our chance encounter with the great Captain Petrucchio.”
“That is for certain,” said Lecchio.
“Few do,” Petrucchio admitted.
“May we have your permission to tell our children and our grandchildren about this?” inquired Chino.
“Yes,” said Petrucchio.
“Thank you,” said Chino.
“It is nothing,” said Petrucchio, as though it might really have been nothing, the bestowal of so priceless a right.
Players of Gor pgs: 315
Twice some children addressed themselves to the coffle, jeering its captives, spitting upon them, stinging them with hurled pebbles, rushing forward, even, to lash at them with switches. Already, it seemed, to these children, the women were no more than mere slaves.
Magicians of Gor pgs: 1
Tarnsman of Gor pgs: 45 | Chapter: 3:47
He entered my apartment, carrying a metal rod about two feet long, with a leather loop attached. It had a switch in the handle, which could be set in two position on and off, like a simple torch. He wore another such instrument slung from his belt. "This is not a weapon," he said. "It is not to be used as a weapon."
"What is it?" I asked.
"A tarn-goad," he replied. He snapped the switch in the barrel to the "on" position and struck the table. It showered sparks in a sudden cascade of yellow light, but left the table unmarked. He turned off the goad and extended it to me. As I reached for it, he snapped it on and slapped it in my palm. A billion tiny yellow sparks, like pieces of fiery needles, seemed to explode in my hand. I cried out in shock. I thrust my hand to my mouth. It had been like a sudden, severe electric charge, like the striking of a snake in my hand. I examined my hand; it was unhurt."Be careful of a tarn-goad," said the Older Tarl. "It is not for children." I took it from him, this time being careful to take it near the leather loop, which I fastened around my wrist.
Tarnsman of Gor pgs: 50 | Chapter: 3:74-76
The tarn continued to climb, and I saw the City of Cylinders dropping far below me, like a set of rounded children's blocks set in the gleaming green hills.
Tarnsman of Gor pgs: 56 | Chapter: 4:6
Without realizing what I was doing, I had shaken the two restraining tarnsmen from my arms as if they had been children, and I rushed on Marlenus and struck him violently in the face with my fist, causing him to reel backward, his face contorted with astonishment and pain.
Tarnsman of Gor pgs: 157 | Chapter: 14:42
Pa-Kur, for his part, demanded and was granted the usual savage fees imposed by the Gorean conqueror. The population would be completely disarmed. Possession of a weapon would be regarded as a capital offense. Officers in the Warrior Caste and their families were to be impaled, and in the population at large every tenth man would be executed. The thousand most beautiful women of Ar would be given as pleasure slaves to Pa-Kur, for distribution among his highest officers. Of the other free women, the healthiest and most attractive thirty percent would be auctioned to his troops in the Street of Brands, the proceeds going to the coffers of Pa-Kur. A levy of seven thousand young men would be taken to fill the depleted ranks of his siege slaves. Children under twelve would be distributed at random among the free cities of Gor. As for the slaves of Ar, they would belong to the first man who changed their collar.
Tarnsman of Gor pgs: 188-189 | Chapter: 17:10
I held the quivering plant up. Then I twisted it apart. Already my blood, black in the silvery night, mixed with the juices of the plant, stained the stem even to the roots. In a matter of perhaps two or three seconds, it had drawn perhaps a gill of liquid. With a shudder I hurled the loathsome plant away from the road. Normally such plants are cleared from the sides of the roads and from inhabited areas. They are primarily dangerous to children and small animals, but a grown man who might lose his footing among them would not be likely to survive.
Outlaw of Gor pgs: 34 | Chapter: 4:3
Then, soberly, though I acknowledged it as a superstition, I performed the Gorean ritual of looking into the blood. With my cupped hands I drank a mouthful of blood, and then, holding another in my hands, I waited for the next flash of lightning.
One looks into the blood in one's cupped hands. It is said that if one sees one's visage black and wasted one will die of disease, if one sees oneself torn and scarlet one will die in battle, if one sees oneself old and white haired, one will die in peace and leave children.
...
I drank the blood, completing the ritual.
Outlaw of Gor pgs: 38 | Chapter: 4:33-36
Wandering in the city I found myself in Tharna's marketplace. Though it was apparently a market day, judging from the numerous stalls of vegetables, the racks of meat under awnings, the tubs of salted fish, the cloths and trinkets spread out on the carpets before the seated, cross-legged merchants, there was none of the noisy clamor that customarily attends the Gorean market. I missed the shrill, interminable calls of the vendors, each different; the good-natured banter of friends in the marketplace exchanging gossip and dinner invitations; the shouts of burly porters threading their way through the tumult; the cries of children escaped from their tutors and playing tag among the stalls; the laughter of veiled girls teasing and being teased by young men, girls purportedly on errands for their families, yet somehow finding the time to taunt the young swains of the city, if only by a flash of their dark eyes and a perhaps too casual adjustment of their veil.
Outlaw of Gor pgs: 67 | Chapter: 8:9
The balance of mutual regard is always delicate and, statistically, it is improbable that it can long be maintained throughout an entire population. Accordingly, gradually exploiting, perhaps unconsciously, the opportunities afforded by the training of children and the affections of their men, the women of Tharna improved their position considerably over the generations, also adding to their social power the economic largesse of various funds and inheritances.
Outlaw of Gor pgs: 205-206
"...beneath the clawed paws of four squealing, snorting kaiila....
...the enraged, thundering kaiila, hissing and squealing, at a touch of the control straps, arrested their fierce charge, stopping themselves, tearing into the deep turf with suddenly emergent claws.
The children of the Wagon peoples are taught the saddle of the kaiila before the can walk."
Nomads of Gor pgs: 17
Here and there children ran between the wheels, playing with a cork ball and quiva, the object of the game being to strike the thrown ball.
Nomads of Gor pgs: 27
I was about to press Kamchak on this matter when we heard a sudden shout and the squealing of kaiila from among the wagons. I heard then the shouts of men and the cries of women and children. Kamchak lifted his head intently, listening. Then we heard the pounding of a small drum and two blasts on the horn of a bosk.
Nomads of Gor pgs: 33
Kamchak strode among the wagons, toward the sound, and I followed him closely. Many others, too, rushed to the sound, and we were jostled by armed warriors, scarred and fierce; by boys with unscarred faces, carrying the pointed sticks used often for goading the wagon bosk; by leather-clad women hurrying from the cooking pots; by wild, half-clothed children; even by enslaved Kajir-clad beauties of Turia; even the girl was there who wore but bells and collar, struggling under her burden, long dried strips of bosk meat, as wide as beams, she too hurrying to see what might be the meaning of the drum and horn, of the shouting Tuchuks.
Nomads of Gor pgs: 34
Watching us there were a few children, some men, some slave girls. As soon as Kamchak had agreed to Albrecht's proposal the children and several of the slave girls immediately began to rush toward the wagons, delightedly crying "Wager! Wager!"
Nomads of Gor pgs: 65-66
Some two hours later we reached the encampment of the Tuchuks and made our way among the wagons and the cooking pots and playing children.
Nomads of Gor pgs: 134
The word actually cried was “Kaissa,” which is Gorean for “Game.”
. . .
. . . even children find among their playthings the pieces of the game
. . .
It is not unusual to find even children of twelve or fourteen years who play with a depth and sophistication, a subtlety and a brilliance, that might be the envy of the chess masters of Earth.
Assassin of Gor pgs: 26-27
I fell down several times but the cart did not stop; each time I managed to regain my feet, though sometimes I was dragged for several yards before, nearly strangling, I managed to get up once more. Twice children tripped me; at least twice one of the guards with the butt of his spear did so. They laughed.
Assassin of Gor pgs: 283
The crowd was stirring in the stands. The caste colors of Gor seemed turbulent in the high tiers. Men rushed here and there securing the clay disks confirming their bets. Hawkers cried their wares. Here and there children ran about. The sky was a clear blue, dotted by clouds. The sun was shining. It was a good day for the races.
Assassin of Gor pgs: 361
My ankles had been unbound only long enough to push me stumbling from the rush craft, among the shouting women and men and children, to the throne of Ho-Hak.
Raiders of Gor pgs: 14
Over her shoulder were slung the four birds she had caught in the marshes, their necks were now broken and they were tied together, two in front and two over her back. There were other women about as well, and here and there, peering between the adults I could see children.
Raiders of Gor pgs: 16
I did not even much care that I might spend the rest of my life as an abject slave, abused on a rence island, the sport of a girl or children, the butt of cruelty and jests of men.
Raiders of Gor pgs: 30
The smaller children played together, the boys playing games with small nets and reed marsh spears, the girls with rence dolls, or some of the older ones sporting with throwing sticks, competing against one another.
Raiders of Gor pgs: 41
There were children about the periphery of the circles but many of them were already asleep on the rence.
Raiders of Gor pgs: 43
Everywhere about us there were shouting men, screaming women, running, crying children, and everywhere, it seemed, the men of Port Kar, and their slaves, holding torches aloft, burning like the eyes of predators in the marsh night. A boy ran past. It was he who had given me a piece of rence cake in the morning, when I had been bound at the pole, who had been punished by his mother for so doing.
Raiders of Gor pgs: 53
The men shouted. Women cursed, and screamed their hatred of the panther girls. Children cried out and pelted them with pebbles. Slave girls in the crowd rushed forward to surge about the carts, to poke at them with sticks, strike them with switches and spit upon them.
Captive of Gor pgs: 213
There must have been two hundred or more peasants, men, children and women, all shouting, and beating on their kettles or pans. The women and children carried sticks and switches, the men spears, flails, forks and clubs.
They were too close together, there were too many of them!
A child saw me and he cried out and began to beat more loudly on his pan.
Captive of Gor pgs: 249
Women and children, too, in the dusty square crowded about. I heard some clanging of pans. I saw sticks in the hands of some of the children.
Captive of Gor pgs: 253
It could perhaps be mentioned that such work, cooking, cleaning and laundering, and such, is commonly regarded as being beneath even free women, particularly those of high caste. In the high cylinders, in Gorean cities, there are often public slaves who tend the central kitchens in cylinders, care for the children, but may not instruct them, and, for a tiny fee to the city, clean compartments and do laundering. Thus even families who cannot afford to own and feed a slave often have the use of several such unfortunate girls, commonly captured from hostile cities. Free women often treat such girls with great cruelty, and the mere word of a free woman, that she is displeased with the girl’s work, is enough to have the girl beaten. The girls strive zealously in their work to please the free women. Such girls, also, have a low use-rent, payable to the city, should young males wish to partake of their pleasures. Here again, the mere word of the free person, that he is not completely pleased, is enough to earn the miserable girl a severe beating. Accordingly, she struggles to please him with all her might. It is not pleasant, I fear, to be a public slave. The Gorean free woman, often, does only what work she chooses. If she does not wish to prepare a meal, she and her companion may go to the public tables, or, should they wish, order a girl to bring them food from the central kitchens.
Captive of Gor pgs: 317
Men, and women and children, were lining the side street, and others were pouring in from the street before the tavern.
We heard the beating of a drum and the playing of flutes.
“What is going on?” I asked a fellow, of the metal workers.
“It is a judicial enslavement,” he said.
Hunters of Gor pgs: 48
That he had once played a man such as Scormus of Ar or Centius of Cos is the sort of thing that a Gorean grandfather will boast of to his grandchildren.
Hunters of Gor pgs: 148
In Gorean thinking man and woman are natural animals, with genetic endowments shaped by thousands of generations of natural and sexual selection. Their actions and behavior, thus, though not independent of certain long-range environmental and sexual relationships, cannot be understood in terms of mere responses to the immediately present environment.
The immediate environment determines what behavior will be successful, not what behavior is performed. Woman, like man, is the product of evolution, and, like man, is a complex genetic product, a product not only of natural selections but sexual selections. Natural selections suggest that a woman who wished to belong to a man, who wished to remain with him, who wished to have children, who wished to care for them, who loved them, would have an advantage, in the long run, as far as her genetic type was concerned, of surviving, over a woman who did not care for men, who did not wish children, and so on. Female freedom, of a full sort, would not have been biologically practical. The loving mother is a type favored by evolution. It is natural then that in modern woman certain instincts should be felt. The sparrow does not feed her young because the society has fooled her into playing that exploitative role. Similarly, sexual selection, as well as natural selection, is a significant dynamic of evolution, without which it is less comprehensible. Men, being stronger, have had, generally, the option of deciding on women that please them. If women had been stronger, as in the spiders, for example, we might have a different race.
It is not unlikely that men, over the generations, have selected out for breeding, for marriage, women of certain sorts. Doubtless women are much more beautiful now than a hundred generations ago. Similarly a woman who was particularly ugly, threatening, vicious, stupid, cruel, etc., would not be a desirable mate. No man can be blamed for not wishing to make his life miserable. Accordingly, statistically, he tends to select out women who are intelligent, loving and beautiful. Accordingly, men have, in effect, bred a certain kind of woman. Similarly, of course, in so far as choice has been theirs, women have tended to select out men who are, among other things intelligent, energetic and strong. Few women, in their hearts, despite propaganda, really desire weak, feminine men. Such men, at any rate, are not those who figure in their sexual fantasies.
Goreans believe it is the nature of a man to own, that of a woman to be owned.
Hunters of Gor pgs: 311-312
The initiates are an almost universal, well-organized, industrious caste. They have many monasteries, holy places and temples. An initiate may often travel for hundreds of pasangs and, each night, find himself in a house of initiates. They regard themselves as the highest caste, and, in many cities, are so regarded generally. There is often a tension between them and the civil authorities, for each regards himself as supreme in matters of policy and law for their districts. The initiates have their own laws, and courts, and certain of them are particularly versed in the laws of initiates. Their education, generally, is of little obvious practical value, with its attention to authorized exegeses of dubious, difficult text, purporting to be revelations of Priest-Kings, the details and observances of their own calendars, their interminable, involved rituals, and so on, but, paradoxically, this sot of learning, impractical though it appears, has a subtle practical aspect. It tends to bind initiates together, making them interdependent, and much different from common men. It sets them apart, and makes them feel important and wise, and specially privileged. There are many texts, of course which are secret to the caste, and not even available to scholars generally. In these it is rumored there are marvelous spells and mighty magic, particularly if read backward on certain feast days. Whereas initiates tend not to be taken with great seriousness by the high castes, or the more intelligent members of the population, except in matters of political alliance, their teachings and purported ability to intercede with Priest-Kings, and further the welfare of their adherents, is taken with great seriousness by many of the lower castes. And many men, who suspect that the initiates, in their claims and pretensions, are frauds, will nonetheless avoid coming into conflict with the caste. This is particularly true of civic leaders who do not wish the power of the initiates to turn the lower castes against them. And, after all, who knows much of Priest-Kings, other than the obvious fact that they exist. The invisible barrier about the Sardar is evidence of that, and the policing, by flame death, of illegal weapons and inventions. The Gorean knows that there are Priest-Kings. He does not, of course, know their nature. That is where the role of the initiates becomes most powerful. The Gorean knows there are Priest-Kings, whoever or whatever they might be. He is also confronted with a socially and economically powerful caste that pretends to be able to intermediate between Priest-Kings and common folk. What if some of the claims of Initiates should be correct? What if they do have influence with Priest-Kings?
The common Gorean tends to play it safe and honor the Initiates. He will, however, commonly, have as little to do with them as possible. This does not mean he will not contribute to their temples and fees for placating Priest-Kings. The attitude of Priest-Kings toward Initiates, as I recalled, having once been in the Sardar, is generally one of disinterest. They are regarded as being harmless. They are taken by many Priest-Kings as an evidence of the aberrations of the human kind. Incidentally, it is a teaching of the initiates that only initiates can obtain eternal life. The regimen for doing this has something to do with learning mathematics, and with avoiding the impurities of meat and beans. This particular teaching of the initiates, it is interesting to note, is that taken least seriously by the general population. No one, except possibly, initiates, takes it with much seriousness. The Gorean feeling generally is that there is no reason why initiates, or only initiates, should live forever. Initiates, though often feared by the lower castes, are also regarded as being a bit odd, and often figure in common, derisive jokes. No female, incidently, may become an Initiate. It is a consequence, thusly, that no female can obtain eternal life. I have often thought that the Initiates, if somewhat more clever, could have a much greater power than they possess on Gor. For example, if they could fuse their superstitions and lore, and myths, with a genuine moral message, of one sort or another, they might appeal more seriously to the general population; if they spoke more sense people would be less sensitive to, or disturbed by, the nonsense; further, they should teach that all Goreans might, by following their rituals, obtain eternal life; that would broaden the appeal of their message, and subtly utilize the fear of death to further their projects; lastly, they should make greater appeal to women than they do, for, in most Gorean cities, women, of one sort or another, care for and instruct the children in the crucial first years. That would be the time to imprint them, while innocent and trusting, at the mother's or nurse's knee, with superstitions which might, in simpler brains, subtly control them the length of their lives. So simple an adjustment as the promise of eternal life to women who behaved in accordance with their teachings, instructing the young, and so on, might have much effect. But the initiates, like many Gorean castes, were tradition bound. Besides, they were quite powerful as it was. Most Goreans took with some seriousness their claim to be able to place and influence Priest-Kings. That was more than they needed for considerable power.
Maurauders of Gor pgs: 37-39
. . . lastly, they should make greater appeal to women than they do, for, in most Gorean cities, women, of one sort or another, care for and instruct the children in the crucial first years. That would be the time to imprint them, while innocent and trusting, at the mother’s or nurse’s knee, with superstitions which might, in simpler brains, subtly control then the length of their lives. So simple an adjustment as the promise of eternal life to women who behaved in accordance with their teachings, instructing the young and so on, might have much effect. But the initiates, like many Gorean castes, were tradition bound.
Maurauders of Gor pgs: 39
When the war arrow is carried, of course, all free men are to respond; in such a case the farm may suffer, and his companion and children know great hardship; in leaving his family, the farmer, weapons upon his shoulder, speaks simply to them. “The war arrow has been carried to my house,” he tells them.
Maurauders of Gor pgs: 142
. . the tiny, six-toed rock tharlarion of southern Torvaldsland, favored for their legs and tails, which are speared by children.
Maurauders of Gor pgs: 152
Some of the peppers and spices, relished even by children in the Tahari districts, were sufficient to convince an average good fellow of Thentis or Ar that the roof of his mouth and his tongue were being torn out of his head.
Tribesmen of Gor pgs: 46
Once she stole a date. I did not whip her. I chained her, arms over her head, back against the trunk, to a flahdah tree. I permitted nomad children to discomfit her. They are fiendish little beggars. They tickled her with the lanceolate leaves of the tree. They put honey about her, to attract the tiny black sand flies, which infest such water holes in the spring.
Tribesmen of Gor pgs: 81
When she had left the room she had used the runner at the side of the room. Rooms in private dwellings, in the Tahari, if rich, usually are floored with costly rugs. The rooms are seldom crossed directly, in order to prevent undue wear on the rugs; long strips of ruglike material line the edges of the room; these are commonly used in moving from room to room; children, servants, slaves, women, commonly negotiate the rooms by keeping on the runners, near the walls. Men commonly do also, if guests are not present.
Tribesmen of Gor pgs: 157
I supposed, further, that the rare event had here taken place of a girl meeting her true master, and a man his true slave girl. The girl, one among thousands less fortunate, had encountered a male, surely, too, one among thousands, who could be, and was, to her and for her, her absolute and natural master, the ideal and perfect male for her, dominant and uncompromising, who could, and would, demand and get her full, yielding sexuality, which a woman can give only to a man who owns her totally, before whom, and to whom, she can be only an adoring slave. This happens almost never on Earth, where the normal male/female relationship is the result of a weak, pleasant male’s releasing of the female’s maternal instinct, rather than her usually frustrated instinct to submit herself fully to a truly dominant male as a held and owned, penetrated, submissive female; it does occur, however, with some frequency on Gor, where girls, slaves, are more frequently traded and exchanged. One tries different girls until one finds she, or those, who are the most exquisite, the most pleasing; one tends then, to keep them; this tends, too, to work out to the advantage of the women, the female slaves, but few, except themselves, are concerned with them, or their feelings; men, it is clear, have a need to dominate; few deny this; none deny it who are informed; in the Gorean culture, as it is not on Earth, institutions exist for the satisfaction of this need, rather than its systematic suppression and frustration; the major Gorean institution satisfying this need is the widespread enslavement of human females; the master/slave relationship is the deepest, clearest recognition of, and concession to, this masculine need, felt by all truly vital, sexual males; but, in the Gorean theory, this masculine need to dominate, which, thwarted, leads to misery, sickness, and petty, vicious, meaningless aggressions, is not an aberration, nor an uncomplemented biological singularity in males, but has its full complementary, correspondent need in the human female, which is the need, seldom satisfied, to be overwhelmed and mastered; in primitive mate competitions, in which intelligence and cunning, and physical and psychological power, were of biological importance, rather than wealth and status, the best women, statistically, would fall to the strongest, most intelligent men; it is possible, and likely, that women, or the best women, were once fought for, literally, as well as symbolically, as possessions; if this were the case then it is likely that something in the female, genetically, would respond to dominance and strength; most women do not, truly, want weak men; they wish their children to be born not to an equal but a superior; how could they respect a man who in stature and power was no more than themselves, the equal of a woman, a prize; given the choice to bear the child of an equal, or a master, most women would choose to bear the child of a master; women long to bear the children of men superior to themselves; it is a defeated woman whose body grows fat with the child only of an equal; just as evolution, at one time, selected for strong, intelligent men, capable of combat, because they were successful in mate competitions, so, too, correspondingly, in the transmission of genetic structures, it would be selecting for women who responded to, and yielded to, such men, women who were the biologically specified and rightful property of such men, our ancestors The dominant male is thus selected for in mate competition; the undominant male tends, statistically, to lose out to his stronger, more intelligent foe; correspondingly, evolution selected for the female who responds to the dominant male; she who fled such men either mated with weaker men, her children then being less well adapted for survival, or, perhaps, fled away, and her genes were lost, for better or for worse, to the struggling human groups; the female who was excited by such men, and longed to belong to them, to masters, and keep by them and serve them, had the best chance of survival; she was the best protected; her children would be the best protected; further, her children would be more intelligent and stronger, being the offspring of more intelligent and stronger men; her lusts, and her love of being owned by such men, and her pride in their possession of her, would contribute substantially to not only her survival but that of her children; too, the woman would, over generations, become more beautiful and desirable, and sexually exciting, as vital males exercising their masculine prerogatives selected among the daughters of the daughters of such women; men chose for mating women who pleased them, and women who pleased them were not the ugly, the gross, the belligerent and stupid, but the intelligent, loving, desirable and beautiful; the twin dynamics of evolution, natural and sexual selection, thus formed over thousands of years the biological nature of the human female; originally there might have been only random tendencies to respond to masculine domination, but those who had them had the best chance of survival; such tendencies were then transmitted, becoming pervasive genetic characteristics of women; owned women lived, the most beautiful and best of these were selected by the strongest, most intelligent and powerful men; it is from such intricate workings of nature that has come the intelligent, beautiful, sensitive woman, the feminine woman, with full complement of normal feminine hormones, who longs in her heart to lie lovingly, obediently, excitedly in the arms of a strong man, his woman; beyond this, one might note that dominance and submission are genetically pervasive in the animal kingdom; among mammals in general, and primates universally, it is the male who dominates and the female who submits; this is not an aberration; the aberration is its conditioned frustration, possible, interestingly enough, only in an animal complicated enough to be subject to extensive conditioning regimes, where words may be used to induce counterinstinctual responses, to the detriment and misery of the individual organism, though perhaps subservient to a given conception of economic and social relationships. We are bred hunters; we are made farmers.
Tribesmen of Gor pgs: 163-165
"the rare event had here taken place of a girl meeting her true master, and a man his true slave girl. the girl one among thousands less fortunate, had encountered a male, surely, too, one among thousands, who could be, and was, to her and for her, her absolute and natural master, the ideal and perfect male for her, dominant and uncompromising, who, could, and would, demand and get her full, yielding sexuality, which a woman can give only to a man who owns her totally, before whom, and to whom, she can be only an adoring slave.
This happens almost, never on Earth, where the normal male/female relationship in the result of a weak, pleasant male's releasing of the female's natural instinct, rather than her usually frustrated instinct to submit herself fully to a truly dominant male, as a held and owned, penetrated, submissive female; it does occur, however, with some frequency on Gor, where girls, slaves, are more frequently traded and exchanged. One tries different girls, until one finds her, or those who are the most exquisite, the most pleasing; one tends then, to keep them this tends, too, to work out the the advantage of the women, the female slaves, but few, except themselves, are concerned with them, or their feelings; men, it is clear, have a need to dominate; few deny this; none deny it who are informed; in the Gorean culture, as it is not on Earth, institutions exist for the satisfaction of this need, rather than its systematic suppression and frustration; the major Gorean institutions satisfying this need, is the widespread enslavement of human females; the massive/slave relationship is the deepest, clearest recognition of, and obsession to, this masculine need, felt by all truly vital, sexual males; but in the Gorean theory, this masculine need to dominate, which, thwarted, leads to misery, sickness and petty, vicious, meaningless aggressions, is not a aberration, nor has an unconditional biological singularity in males, but has its full complementary, correspondent need in the human female, which is the need, seldom satisfied, to be overwhelmed and mastered, in primitive mate competitions, in which intelligence and cunning, and physical and psychological power, were of biological importance, rather than wealth and status, the best women, statistically, would fall to the strongest, most intelligent men; it is possible, and likely, that women, or the best women, were once fought for, literally, as well as symbolically, as possessions; if this were the case then it is likely that something in the female, genetically, would respond to dominance and strength; most women do not, truly, want weak men; they wish their children to be born not to an want equal but a superior; how could they respect a man who in stature and power was not more than themselves, the equal of a woman, a price; given the choice to bear the child of an equal, or a master, most woman would choose to bear the child of a master; woken long to bear the children of men superior to themselves; it is a defeated woman whose body grows fat with the child only of an equal; just a evolution, at one time selected for strong, intelligent men, capable of combat, because they re successful in mate competitions, so, too, correspondingly, in the transmission g genetic structures, it would be selecting for women who responded to, and yielded to, such men, women who were the biologically specified and rightful property of such men, our ancestors, ..the dominate male is thus sleeted for in mate competition; the statistically male tends, statistically, to lose out his stronger, more intelligent foe; correspondingly, evolution selected for the female who responds the the dominant male; she who fled such men wither mater with weaker men, her children then being less well adapted for survival, or perhaps, fled away, and her genes were lost, for better or for worse, to the struggling human groups; the female who was excited by such men, and longed to belong to them, to masters, and keep by them and serve them, had the best chance of survival; she was the best p
Tribesmen of Gor pgs: 163-163
The children of nomads, both male and female, until they are five or six years of age, wear no clothing. During the day they do not venture from the shade of the tents. At night, as the sun goes down, they emerge happily from the tents and romp and play. They are taught written Taharic by their mothers, who draw the characters in the sand, during the day, in the shade of the tents. Most of the nomads in this area were Tashid, which is a tribe vassal to the Aretai. It might be of interest to note that children of the nomads are suckled for some eighteen months, which is nearly twice the normal length of time for Earth infants, and half again the normal time for Gorean infants. These children, if it is significant, are almost, uniformly secure in their families, sturdy, outspoken and serf-reliant. Among the nomads, interestingly, an adult will always listen to a child. He is of the tribe. Another habit of nomads, or of nomad mothers, is to frequently bathe small children, even if it is only with a cloth and a cup of water. There is a very low infant mortality rate among nomads, in spite of their limited diet and harsh environment.
Tribesmen of Gor pgs: 170-171
"Whereas caste membership is commonly connected with the practice of an occupation, such as agriculture, or commerce, or war, there can be, of course, caste members who are not engaged in caste work and individuals who do certain forms of work who are not members of that caste commonly associated with such work. Caste, commonly, though not invariably, is a matter of birth. One may, too, be received into a caste by investment. Normally mating takes place among caste members, but if the mating is of mixed caste, the woman may elect to retain caste, which is commonly done, or be received into the caste of the male companion. Caste membership of the children born of such a union is a function of the caste of the father."
Slave Girl of Gor pgs: 212-213
Normally mating takes place among caste members, but if the mating is of mixed caste, the woman may elect to retain caste, which is commonly done, or be received into the caste of the male companion. Caste membership of the children born of such a union is a function of the caste of the father.
Slave Girl of Gor pgs: 213
Gorean culture tends to view the body, its development, its appetites and needs, with congeniality. We do not grow excited about the growth of trees, and Goreans do not grow excited about the growth of people. In some respects the Goreans are, perhaps, cruel. Yet they have never seen fit, through lies, to inflict suffering on children. They seem generally to me to be fond of children. Perhaps that is why they seldom hurt them. Even slave children, incidentally, are seldom abused or treated poorly, and are given much freedom, until they reach their young adulthood. It is then, of course, that they are taught that they are slaves. Men come, and the young male is tied and taken to the market. If the young slave is a female she may or may not be sent to a market. Many young slave maidens are raised almost as daughters in a home. It is often a startling and frightening day for such a girl when, one morning, she finds herself suddenly, unexpectedly, put in a collar and whipped, and made to begin to pay the price of her now-blossomed slave beauty.
Beasts of Gor pgs: 155
Sometimes a girl, winning love, is freed, perhaps to bear the children of a former master.
Beasts of Gor pgs: 235
I did know the red hunters were extremely permissive with their children, even among Goreans. They very seldom scolded them and would almost never strike a child. They protected them as they could. Soon enough the children would learn. Until that time let them be children.
Beasts of Gor pgs: 266
Most families in Port Kar own their own boats. These boats are generally shallow-drafted, narrow and single-oared, the one oar being used to both propel and guide the boat. Even children use these boats.
Explorers of Gor pgs: 61
Though one is commonly born into a caste one is often not permitted to practice the caste craft until a suitable apprenticeship has been served. This guarantees the quality of the caste product. It is possible, though it is seldom the case, that members of a caste are not permitted to practice specific caste skills, though they may be permitted to practice subsidiary skills. For example, one who is of the Metalworkers might not be permitted to work iron, but might be permitted to do such things as paint iron, and transport and market it. Caste rights, of course, such as the right to caste support in time of need and caste sanctuary, when in flight, which are theirs by birth, remain theirs. The women of a given caste, it should be noted, often do not engage in caste work. For example, a woman in the Metalworkers does not, commonly, work at the forge, nor is a woman of the Builders likely to be found supervising the construction of fortifications. Caste membership, for Goreans, is generally a simple matter of birth; it is not connected necessarily with the performance of certain skills, nor the attainment of a given level of proficiency in such skills. To be sure, certain skills tend to be associated traditionally with certain castes, a fact which is clearly indicated in caste titles, such as the Leatherworkers, the Metalworkers, the Singers, and the Peasants. A notable exception to the generalization that women of a given caste normally do not engage in caste work is the caste of Physicians, whose women are commonly trained, as are the boys, in the practice of medicine. Even the physicians, however, normally do not admit their women to full practice until they have borne two children. The purpose of this is to retain a high level of intelligence in the caste. Professional women, it is well understood, tend not to reproduce themselves, a situation which, over time, would be likely to produce a diminution in the quality of the caste. Concern for the future of the caste is thus evinced in this limitation by the physicians on the rights of their women to participate without delay in the caste craft. The welfare of the caste, typically, takes priority in the Gorean mind over the ambitions of specific individuals. The welfare of a larger number of individuals, as the Goreans reason, correctly or incorrectly, is more important than the welfare of a smaller number of individuals.
Fighting Slave of Gor pgs: 209-210
I could smell perfumes and their mixings in the long shop behind the counter. There, at various benches, attending to their work, measuring and stirring, were apprentice perfumers. Though one is commonly born into a caste one is often not permitted to practice the caste craft until a suitable apprenticeship has been served. This guarantees the quality of the caste product. It is possible, though it is seldom the case, that members of a caste are not permitted to practice specific caste skills, though they may be permitted to practice subsidiary skills. For example, one who is of the Metalworkers might not be permitted to work iron, but might be permitted to do such things as paint iron, and transport and market it. Caste rights, of course, such as the right to caste support in time of need and caste sanctuary, when in flight, which are theirs by birth, remain theirs. The women of a given caste, it should be noted, often do not engage in caste work. For example, a woman in the Metalworkers does not, commonly, work at the forge, nor is a woman of the Builders likely to be found supervising the construction of fortifications. Caste membership, for Goreans, is generally a simple matter of birth; it is not connected necessarily with the performance of certain skills, nor the attainment of a given level of proficiency in such skills. To be sure, certain skills tend to be associated traditionally with certain castes, a fact which is clearly indicated in caste titles, such as the Leatherworkers, the Metalworkers, the Singers, and the Peasants. A notable exception to the generalization that women of a given caste normally do not engage in caste work is the caste of Physicians, whose women are commonly trained, as are the boys, in the practice of medicine. Even the physicians, however, normally do not admit their women to full practice until they have borne two children. The purpose of this is to retain a high level of intelligence in the caste. Professional women, it is well understood, tend not to reproduce themselves, a situation which, over time, would be likely to produce a diminution in the quality of the caste. Concern for the future of the caste is thus evinced in this limitation by the physicians on the rights of their women to participate without delay in the caste craft. The welfare of the caste, typically, takes priority in the Gorean mind over the ambitions of specific individuals. The welfare of a larger number of individuals, as the Goreans reason, correctly or incorrectly, is more important than the welfare of a smaller number of individuals. I do not argue this. I only report it.
“My thanks, Lady Teela,” said Turbus Veminius, proprietor of the shop, accepting coins and handing to a robed woman a tiny vial of perfume. She then left.
The woman of the Physicians, at the age of fifteen, in many cities, wears two bracelets on her left wrist. When she has one child one bracelet is removed; when she has a second child the second bracelet is removed. She may then, if she desires, enter into the full practice of her craft. Turbus Veminius then turned his attention to another customer.
Caste is important to the Gorean in ways that are difficult to make clear to one whose social structures do not include the relationships of caste. In almost every city, for example, one knows that there will be caste brothers on whom one may depend. Charity, too, for example, is almost always associated with caste rights on Gor. One of the reasons there are so few outlaws on Gor is doubtless that the outlaw, in adopting his way of life, surrenders caste rights. The slave, too, of course, has no caste rights. He stands outside the structure of society. He is an animal. It is said on Gor that only slaves, outlaws and Priest-Kings, rumored to be the rulers of Gor, reputed to live in the remote Sardar Mountains, are without caste. This saying, however, it might be pointed out, as Goreans recognize, is not strictly true. For example, some individuals have lost caste, or been deprived of caste; some individuals have been born outside of caste; certain occupations are not traditionally associated with caste, such as gardening, domestic service and herding; and, indeed, there are entire cultures and peoples on Gor to whom caste is unknown. Similarly, caste lines tend sometimes to be vague, and the relation between castes and subcastes. Slavers, for example, sometimes think of themselves as being of the Merchants, and sometimes as being a separate caste. They do have their own colors, blue and yellow, those of the Merchants being white and gold. Too, are the bargemen of the Southern Cartius a caste or not? They think of themselves as such, but many do not see the matter in the same light. There are, on Gor, it might be mentioned, ways of raising and altering caste, but the Gorean seldom avails himself of these. To most Goreans it would be unthinkable to alter caste. He is generally too proud of his caste and it is too much a part of him for him to think in such terms. It is, too, recognized that all, or most, of the castes perform necessary, commendable or useful functions. The Leatherworker, accordingly, does not spend much time envying the Metalworker, or the Metalworker the Leatherworker, or either the Clothworker, and so on. All need sandals and wallets, and clothes, and metal tools. Each does, however, tend to think of his own caste as something special, and, somehow, I suspect, as being perhaps a little bit preferable to the others. Most Goreans are quite content with their castes; this is probably a function of caste pride. I have little doubt but what the caste structure contributes considerably to the stability of Gorean society. Among other things it reduces competitive chaos, social and economic, and prevents the draining of intelligence and ambition into a small number of envied, prestigious occupations. If one may judge by the outcome of Kaissa tournaments, amateur tournaments as opposed to those in which members of the caste of Players participate, there are brilliant men in most castes.
Fighting Slave of Gor pgs: 209-211
Any person on the street, seeing us, would know what we were. Even children would know us as mere slaves, for, categorically, and legally, that is what we would be.
Rogue of Gor pgs: 212
"The dressing of slaves, incidentally, is an interesting and intricate pastime. The slave is almost never totally nude. Her body is marked almost always with some token of her condition, which is bond. This is usually a collar, but it may also be an anklet, sometimes belled, or a bracelet. Her brand, of course, fixed in her very flesh, deep and lovely, is always worn. There is no mistaking it. The iron has seen to that. Beyond theses things, much depends on the individual girl and on her particular master of the time. Individual taste is here supreme. To be sure, there are natural congruencies and proprieties which are generally observed.
For example, although one may see a girl in the streets, naked save for, say, her brand and collar, or a bit of chain, this is not common. This sort of thing is done, usually, only as a discipline. Free Women tend to object, for the eyes of their companions tend almost inadvertently to stray to the exposed flesh of such girls. Perhaps, too, they are angry that they themselves are not permitted to present themselves so brazenly and lusciously before men. Needless to say it is difficult for Men to keep their minds on business when such girls are among them. Perhaps this is the reason that magistrates tend to frown upon the practice. After all, Goreans are only human.
In a family house, of course, girls are almost always modestly garbed. Children of many houses might be startled if they could see the transformation which takes place in their pretty Didi or Lale, whom they know as their nurse, governess and playmate, when she is in their absence or after their bedtime, ordered to the chamber of one of the young masters, there to dance lasciviously before him, and then to be had, and as a slave.
Context determines much. If a young man is giving a proper and refined dinner, his girl, modestly attired, will commonly serve it, shyly and deferentially, quietly and self-effacingly, as befits a slave. She may even draw commendations from his mother, pleased that he has purchased such a modest, useful girl. In a dinner given for his rowdy male companions, of course, in which even unmixed wines might be served, she, obedient, writhing and sensuous, is quite a different girl. Perhaps he has even purchased her some training, from local slave masters. His guests, uncontrolled in their desire, driven half mad with passion, will mightily envy him his girl. Perhaps he, in Gorean hospitality, will share her with them, but, in the end, when they have gone, it is at the foot of his own couch that she, licking and kissing, and begging, will be chained.
The main purpose of slave garments, of course, is not particularly to clothe the girl, for she need not even be clothed, as she is an animal, but to, as I have suggested, `set her off.` In this sense slave garments may be as resplendent and complex as the robes of an enslaved Ubara, to be removed by the general who has captured her upon a platform of public humiliation, or as simple as the cords on a girl`s wrists and a piece of rope knotted on her throat.
Additional functions of slave garments, of course, other than those of displaying the girl and making it clear to all how desirable she is, are to remind her, clearly, that she is a slave, which is useful in her discipline, and, also, interestingly, to stimulate, intensify and deepen her sexuality. It is impossible for a woman to dress and act as a slave, and be enslaved, in full legality, and not, sooner or later, understand that she is really what she seems to be, a slave."
Guardsman of Gor pgs: 105-109
The children that we passed in the streets, playing at marbles or stone toss, scarcely glanced up. Two children, however, one boy and one girl, did run and strike the slave. Two children, however, one boy and one girl, did run and strike the slave. She started, and squirmed, on my shoulder under the blows.
I did not admonish the children. First, it was nothing to me that they had struck her, for she was a slave. Secondly, they were free persons, and free persons on Gor may do much what they please. It is slaves who must be careful of their behavior, lest free persons find it displeasing. The boy who had struck her, I believe, had been in a fit of ill temper. I think he had just lost at stone toss.
The girl, on the other hand, I think, had had far different motivations. She had not been involved in the game, but had only been watching it. Yet she had struck the slave by far the cruelest blow. Already she had learned, as a free woman, that female slaves are to be despised and beaten. The hatred of the free woman on Gor for the female slave is an interesting phenomenon. There are probably many reasons for this.
Among them, however, would seem to be a jealousy of the female slave’s desirability and beauty, a resentment of the interest of free men in imbonded women, and an envy of the slave girl’s psychological and biological fulfillments, and emotional freedom and joy. Something of the same hatred and contempt tends to be felt by masculine women on Earth towards feminine women. Perhaps they hate what they are not, and perhaps cannot be. The Gorean slave girl, incidentally, can be terrorized by the mere thought that she might be sold to a free woman. I glanced at the girl who had struck the slave. She was comely. I wondered if she might one day fall slave. If so, she, too, in her turn, would surely learn to fear free women.
Guardsman of Gor pgs: 197-198
“You, yourself,” I said, “do not seem much infected by the lunacy of the Waniyanpi.”
“No,” she said. “I am not. I have had red masters. From them I have learned new truths. Too, I was taken from the community at an early age.”
“How old were you?” I asked.
“I was taken from the enclosure when I was eight years old,” she said, “taken home by a Kaiila warrior as a pretty little white slave for his ten-year-old son. I learned early to please and placate men.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“There is little more to tell,” she said. “For seven years I was the slave of my young master. He was kind to me, and protected me, muchly, from the other children. Although I was only his slave, I think he liked me. He did not put me in a leg stretcher until I was fifteen.”
Savages of Gor pgs: 236
Some of these rode kaiila to which travois were attached. Some had cradles slung about the pommels of their saddles. These cradles, most of them, are essentially wooden frames on which are fixed leather, open-fronted enclosures, opened and closed by lacings, for the infant. The wooden frame projects both above and below the enclosure for the infant. In particular it contains two sharpened projections at the top, like picket spikes, extending several inches above the point where the baby’s head will be located. This is to protect the infant’s head in the event of the cradle falling, say, from the back of a running kaiila. Such a cradle will often, in such a case, literally stick upside down in the earth. The child, then, laced in the enclosure, protected and supported by it, is seldom injured.
Such cradles, too, vertical, are often hung from a lodge pole or in the branches of a tree. In the tree, of course, the wind, in its rocking motion, can lull the infant to sleep. Older children often ride on the skins stretched between travois poles. Sometimes their fathers or mothers carry them before them, on the kaiila. When a child is about six, if his family is well-fixed, he will commonly have his own kaiila. The red savage, particularly the males, will usually be a skilled rider by the age of seven. Bareback riding, incidentally, is common in war and the hunt. In trading and visiting, interestingly, saddles are commonly used. This is perhaps because they can be decorated lavishly, adding to one’s appearance, and may serve, in virtue of the pommel, primarily, as a support for provisions, gifts and trade articles.
“It is simply splendid,” said Cuwignaka, happily.
“Yes,” I said.
Children, too, I noted, those not in cradles, greased, their hair braided, their bodies and clothing ornamented, in splendid finery, like miniature versions of the adults, some riding, some sitting on the skins stretched between travois poles, participated happily and proudly, or bewilderedly, in this handsome procession.
Blood Brothers of Gor pgs: 26
From the lodges near the edge of the escarpment men again drew forth travois. On these were great bundles of arrows, hundreds of arrows in a bundle. Many of these arrows were not fine arrows. Many lacked even points and were little more than featherless, sharpened sticks. Yet, impelled with force from the small, fierce bows of the red savages at short range, they, too, would be dangerous. For days warriors, and women and children, had been making them.
Blood Brothers of Gor pgs: 415
The people of Corcyrus, it was clear, had welcomed the men of from Ar, as liberators. The colors of Argentum and of Ar, on ribbons and strips of cloth, angled from windows and festooned, even being stretched between windows and rooftops overhead, the triumphal way. Such colors, too, were prominent in the crowd, on garments being waved, fluttering, by citizens and sometimes even children, perched on the shoulders of adults.
Kajira of Gor pgs: 189
“We wish you well, noble captain,” said Chino, shaking Petrucchio’s hand, warmly. “I do not think we shall soon forget our chance encounter with the great Captain Petrucchio.”
“That is for certain,” said Lecchio.
“Few do,” Petrucchio admitted.
“May we have your permission to tell our children and our grandchildren about this?” inquired Chino.
“Yes,” said Petrucchio.
“Thank you,” said Chino.
“It is nothing,” said Petrucchio, as though it might really have been nothing, the bestowal of so priceless a right.
Players of Gor pgs: 315
Twice some children addressed themselves to the coffle, jeering its captives, spitting upon them, stinging them with hurled pebbles, rushing forward, even, to lash at them with switches. Already, it seemed, to these children, the women were no more than mere slaves.
Magicians of Gor pgs: 1
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