She looked at me, angrily. Then she obeyed. There was a close-fitting steel collar on her neck.
Seeing that she was a slave, no longer did I fear to compromise the modesty of a free woman. Guardsman of Gor, page 60


"A free woman!" suddenly exclaimed Glyco, startled.
I smiled.
From the kitchen there had emerged, in the robes of concealment, the figure of a woman.
The men, save I, rose as one to their feet, for Gorean men commonly stand when a free woman enters a room. Guardsman of Gor, page 255


"I see," I said. I myself prefer the application of such expressions not to slaves, but to pretentious free women, to remind them that they, in spite of
their freedom, are only women. They are useful, by the way, in making a free woman uneasy, their use suggesting to her that perhaps the male is
considering shortly enslaving her. In speaking to a slave I prefer expressions such as 'Slave' or 'Slave Girl', or the girl's name itself, she understanding
clearly, of course, that it is only a slave name. Savages of Gor, page 230


"Being a slave girl is very different from being a free woman," I said. "From a free woman a man expects little, or nothing. From a slave girl, on the
other hand, he expects, as it is said, everything, and more."
"I understand," she said.
"A free woman may be valueless and, if she wishes, account this a virtue. A slave, on the other hand, must be superbly pleasing. She must see to it,
with all her intelligence and beauty, that she is her master's attentive, sensitive, skillful treasure." Blood Brothers of Gor, page 165


She lay on her side in the dirt. She looked up once at Cuwignaka and then, quickly, averted her eyes from his. He was looking down at her, angrily.
She trembled. Whereas a free woman may often make a man angry with impunity, she being lofty and free, this latitude is seldom extended to the
slave. Blood Brothers of Gor, page 221

"Do you beg food, Free Woman," asked Hci.
"Yes, my captor," said Iwoso, humbly.
He then thrust pemmican into her mouth, as Cuwignaka had with Bloketu.
"Chew and swallow, Free Woman," he said.
Iwoso obeyed.
"Do you beg drink, Free Woman," asked Hci.
"Yes, my captor," whispered Iwoso.
In a moment, when Iwoso had finished, Hci stoppered the water bag. "You may now thank us for our food and drink," he said.
"Thank you for my food and drink, Master," said Bloketu to Cuwignaka.
"Thank you for my food and drink, my captor," said Iwoso to Hci. If a girl's thanks, in such circumstances, are not deemed sufficiently sincere, or
profuse, it is not clear if, or when, she will again be fed. Blood Brothers of Gor, page 420


Were Gorean men spoiled for free women by those collared, curvaceous little sluts they had crawling about their feet, desperately eager to please
them? Given such luscious alternatives it was natural enough, I supposed, that men would see little point in subjecting themselves to the
inconveniences, frustration and pain of relating to a free woman, with her demands, inhibitions and rigidities. Perhaps they could not be blamed in this
fashion, to be sure, if save were not available, then it was understandable how men might relate to free women. Sexually starved, and driven by their
needs, they would then be forced to make do with whatever might be available, the best in such a case perhaps being the free woman. But on Gor
alternatives, real alternatives, slaves, were available. It was no wonder free women, as I had heard, so hated slaves. How could they even begin to
compete with a slave, those dreams come true for men. Kajira of Gor, page 114


"It was not necessary that you treat Susan as you did," I said.

"Do not interfere in the relationship between a man and his slave," he said. "That relationship is absolute." Kajira of Gor, page172


The conniving woman on Gor, she who would seek to control and manipulate men, is likely to soon find herself at the feet of her would-be victim,
naked, kissing them, locked in his collar. Kajira of Gor, page 206


“I am a free woman,” she said. “How can you, a free man, deny me anything I want?”
“Easily,” I said.
She looked at me, angrily.
“Many free women believe they can have anything they want, merely by asking for it, or demanding it,” I said, “but now you see that that is not true,
at least not in a world where there are true men.”
She shook the chains in frustration. “You make me as helpless and dependent on you as a slave!” she cried.
“Yes,” I said. Players of Gor, page 119


There was much laughter here, at the apparent innocence of this action. This was extremely meaningful, of course, in the Gorean cultural context.
When a female places her clothing at the feet of a man she acknowledges that whether or not she may wear it, or other garments, or even if she is to
be clothed at all, is dependent on his will, not hers. Boots, in effect, in the context of the play, had tricked her into placing her clothing at his feet. This
is tantamount to a declaration of imbondment to the male. Players of Gor, page 119


“Your legs look well,” I said.
Again she struck me, and then again.
“I note that you have not yet been permitted footwear,” I said. Her feet, bare in the stirrups of the saddle, were dark with dirt, as were her lower
legs, from her ride. Her legs did indeed look well, covered with dust though they might be, shapely against the leather of the saddle, and the thick,
scaled hide of the tharlarion. The skirt she had been permitted was almost slave short and was cut at the sides. She had not been permitted sleeves
in the garment. She was attractive. Probably most men would have wanted to clean her up a bit before using her. It was interesting to conjecture
what she might look like washed and combed, and perfumed, and put in a bit of slave silk, and appropriately collared, of course. The skirt she wore,
though it came high on her thighs, and was cut at the sides, had a very high waist, its belting cord cinched just under her breasts. Yes, altogether it
was a fetching ensemble. Men who had an eye for women must have designed it and she, doubtless, had been given no choice but to wear it. It was
opaque, of course. That was surely a concession to her status, that of the free woman. If I came to own her I thought I might give her a similar
garment, but one of diaphanous silk. Too, I might shorten it a bit. The inmates of such garment, incidentally, suitable collared, of course, also look well
bedecked with barbaric Gorean slave jewelry. Some women, in the beginning, object strenuously to such jewelry, but soon they are begging for it. Her
hair, I noted, was loose. This was also doubtless meaningful. Slaves must often wear their hair in such a fashion.
She struck me twice more with the whip, wheeling about on the tharlarion.
“Your hair is loose,” I observed.
“Sleen! Sleen!” she screamed.
Again and again the whip fell. I closed my eyes, that I not be blinded. I was pleased she did not have a man's strength. Then, sweating, angrily, she
replaced the whip at the side of her saddle.
I grinned at her. Yes, she would look well, properly attired, or properly unattired, cringing at my feet in a collar, knowing that her least discrepancy
from the absolute perfections of slave service would instantly bring upon down her the stroke of the five-stranded slave lash, or worse.
“Laugh, fool!” she cried. “It is you who are in manacles! It is you who are my prisoner!”
I looked up at her, not speaking.
“You were the cause of my reduction in rank,” she cried. “You were the cause of my loss of status in Brundisium, my descent from favor in the eyes of
my Ubar, Belnar, the reason I have been denied the right to conceal my features, my right as a free female, the reason I have been placed in brief,
shameful garments, forcing me to make clear to men my femaleness, the reason I may not bind my hair, but must wear it as though it might be that of
a slave, but that is all finished now. Now all changes! No, fool, you will be the reason not only for my restoration to privilege and station in Brundisium,
the reason for my new rise to favor in the court, in the eyes of Belnar, my Ubar, but the cause, as well, of my attaining there, in the palace and in the
service of my Ubar and the state, new heights of prestige, status and power! Let Flaminius weep with envy! I shall be a thousand times higher than
he!”
“How is it that you follow a woman?” I asked one of the men.
“We follow the orders of Belnar,” he said.
“I see,” I said. Women, although they may occasionally function as artifacts, or symbols, or mystical objects, or something along these lines, seldom
release the following instinct in men. Men, accordingly, do not on the whole, care to follow them. In doing so they generally feel uncomfortable. It
makes them uneasy. They sense the absurdity, the unnaturalness, of the relationship. It is thus that normal men commonly follow women only
unwillingly, and only with reservations, usually also only within an artificial context or within the confines of a misguided, choiceless or naive institution,
where their discipline may be relied upon. Their compliance with orders in such a situation cannot help but be more critical, more skeptical. Their
activities tend then to be performed with less confidence, and more hesitantly. This often produces serious consequences to the efficiency of their
actions. It is interesting to note that even women seldom care to follow women, particularly in critical situations. The male, biologically, for better or for
worse, appears to be the natural leader. In the perversion of nature, of course, anything may occur. It is ironic that certain leaders will place women
over subordinates, for one reason or another, whom they would never accept as their own leaders. Most men, of course, find it easier to inflict
inconvenience and pain on others than on themselves.
I looked up at the Lady Yanina. How small and soft, and luscious, she was. How absurd then, and how unnatural, seemed her position of power,
temporary though it might be, over these men. how envious she seemed of men, particularly of her rival, Flaminius. How she was straining to seem a
leader, how she must have studied what she took to be its lessons well, how she must have firmly resolved to act that role with determination.
Perhaps if she did it well she could fool men; perhaps, if she did it well, she would be accepted almost as though she were a real leader, a true leader.
Perhaps, if she did it well, no one would notice that she was really only a small, soft, shapely, lovely creature, one whose natural destiny would be
found quite elsewhere than in the saddle of a tharlarion, at the head of troops.
“You are a despicable sleen,” she said to me.
“Doubtless,” I said. There was probably much in what she said. I regarded her. How absurd that she could be in power over these men. They were
soldiers. She should be put in her place, the place of the female, kneeling and serving. Perhaps on e day someone would put her there, and she would
then come to understand finally and profoundly what she was, a female. Players of Gor, page 286 to 289


"Is anything wrong?" I asked.

"Put that slut back, behind the wagon," said Boabissia, "where she, like the animal that she is, led, may follow with the other." "Please?" I asked.

"Yes, please,' said Boabissia, angrily.

"very well," I said. I decided I would do this, at least this time, in deference to the wishes of Boabissia. She was after all, a free woman. I gathered
she did no t wish to glance to the side and see the beautiful, collared, scantily clad slave. She preferred, for whatever reason, it seemed, but one
apparently not unusual for free women, to have her behind the wagon, out of sight. I myself, on the other hand, would have preferred keeping Feiqa
at the side of the wagon, Indeed, I would rather have enjoyed, from time to time, looking down approvingly on the helplessness and semi-nudity of my
nearby, neck-roped chattel. Surely too, I had a right to do this if,, and whenever, I pleased. It was merely another of the many unlimited prerogatives
attaching to my relationship to her, that of master and slave. I considered keeping her where she was. Still, Boabissia did not want her there, and
Boabissia was, after all, a few women. I supposed I should respect her wishes, at least once in a while, Too, I had earlier decided to move Feiqa.
There did not seem much point in changing my mind now. Too, there was much to be said objectively for putting Feiqa back of the wagon. Perhaps in
indulging my own pleasure in seeing her I had been, inadvertently, too permissive with her. Surely I did not wish her to grow arrogant. Too,
considering what she was, it was fitting that she was behind the wagon, attached to it by her neck rope. Mercenaries of Gor, page 78


"Slut," said one of the soldiers.

Boabissia laughed again, not looking at him.

"Collar meat," he called out.

She laughed again, giving him no attention.

How well, if haughtily, she now walked. I considered the walks of free women and of slaves. How few free women really walked their beauty. Perhaps
they are ashamed of it, or fear it. Few free women walk in such a as to display their beauty, as, for example, a slave must. I considered the length of
garments. The long garments, usually worn by Boabissia, might cover certain defects or gait perhaps, but when one's legs are bared, as a slave's
commonly are, one must walk with beauty and grace. Too, given the scantiness of many slave garments, it is sometimes necessary to walk in them
with exquisite care. Mercenaries of Gor, page 207


"I know females," said Boabissia. "I am one of them. If you are weak with them, they will take away your manhood and destroy you. If you are strong
with them, they will lick your feet with gratitude. Mercenaries of Gor, page 207


"You are no true man!' she said.

I then stood up before her. She looked up at me, puzzled, I then after regarding her for a time, suddenly, with the back of my hand, struck her fiercely
back from the mat, she twisting and falling back, flung to the side from her knees, almost half on her feet for an instant, then losing her balance, then
falling back into the trash at the side of the wall. She, from the midst of the garbage, half on her side, looked at me wildly, her hand at her mouth,
blood between her fingers.

I pointed to the mat. 'Here," I said. "Kneel."

She hasted back t the mat and knelt before me. She looked up at me in wonder, blood at her mouth. She had been cuffed. "Did you strike be because
I challenged you manhood?" she asked. 'I did not really mean it. It is only that I was terribly angry, I did not think."

"You were not struck for such an absurd reason," I said. "You are, after all, a free woman, and free women are entitled to insult, and to attempt to
demean and destroy men. It is one of their freedoms, unless men, of course, should decide to take it from them. You were struck, rather, because you
were attempting to manipulate me."

Ashe nodded, putting her head down.

"Do you recognize your guilt, and the suitability of your punishment?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. Mercenaries of Gor, page 422


"You are probably not for sale," I said.

"My master does not care for me," she said. "He bought me only to anger his companion, who is terribly cruel to me. During the day, when my legs are
open, he even rents me out to strangers for a tarsk bit!"

"Does his companion grow more attentive and concerned?" I asked.

"I think not," she said.

"Perhaps it should be she who is chained beneath the wagon," I said.

"She is a free woman!" protested the girl, in horror. Renegades of Gor, page 29              

This was quite true. The slave girl is in a totally different category from the free woman. it is the difference between being a person and being a
property, between being a respected, legally autonomous entity, entitled to dignity and pride, and being a domestic animal. The same fellow who will
go to absurd lengths to please a free woman, and even make a fool of himself over her, will, even with the same woman, if she has been enslaved,
simply gesture her with his whip, and without a second thought, to the furs. Renegades of Gor, page 65


I thought that perhaps the inn should provide separate spaces for women, not just separate marked-out spaces, but say, a separate room, or area.
She half reared up, making tiny noises. He had gagged her well. Then he pressed her back to the boards. I blamed the keeper as much as anything,
three copper tarsks for a girl, for a quarter of an Ahn, was outrageous. It was no wonder that some fellow, under the circumstances, might be forced
to make do as he could, even having recourse eventually, if he was desperate enough, to a free woman. I trod a bit further ahead. It was less
dangerous now, as I could see better. Too, the tiny tharlarion-oil lamps, here and there, at the walls, were helpful.

"Do not approach me, sleen!" hissed a woman. Her arm was back. She crouched in the center of one of the spaces. Her hand, held back, held a small
dagger, of the sort which some women think affords them protection.

"Forgive me, Lady," I whispered, "I am trying to reach my space."

She brandished the weapon.

"I mean you no harm," I said. I do not think it is a good idea for women to carry such weapons, incidentally. Their pretentiousness annoys some men.
Indeed, some men will kill a woman with such a weapon rather than take the moment or so necessary to disarm her and make her helpless.
Renegades of Gor, page 89

I released her mouth and she pulled back and opened her mouth widely, to scream. I bunched and thrust veil into her mouth. She looked at me, wildly,
half gagging, my fingers and cloth in her mouth. Little by little, then, with my fingers, patiently, my thumb holding my present accomplishments in place,
and pushing them further back, to make room for more folds, I worked more of the veil into her mouth. Finally I pulled out the pins at the side, and
completed the work. Some veils are held not with pins but with hooks and cords, passing about the back of the head. Others are a part of the hood
itself. With the hood cords, which can fasten the hood more or less closely about the neck, like a cloak. I fastened the veil in place. She then looked at
me, well silenced.

No longer had she the dignity of the veil.

She did not try to dislodge the silencing device I had placed in her mouth but she lifted her hands, shamed, before her face, to conceal her
countenance from me.

I noted how her hands were held before her face.

I pulled her hands down, away from her face. I held them, she helpless to resist, and then, for a time, not hurrying, considered her lips and mouth.
They were indeed excellent. She turned her head to the side.

I turned her about and put her on her stomach. I then removed her stockings. Her slippers, removed for the night, were to one side. With one stocking
I bound her hands together, behind her back, leaving two ends loose. I then crossed and bound her ankles with the other stocking, and, as she
winced, pulled her legs up behind her. I looped one of the two loose ends from the stocking securing her wrists twice about her ankle tie and then tied
it to the other loose end. This fastened her in a slave bow. I pulled her hood down about her face. In this way her facial modesty was protected. Her
lips and mouth, then, were not exposed to the gaze of men, as though they might be those of a slave. I then found he dagger and, carefully, with
regard to her modesty, cut and divided her garments, removing fastening and hooks from them. This left her fully and modestly concealed, albeit with
only strips and pieces of clothing, the devices for arranging and closing which had been removed. I did not think she would find that her dignity would
be compromised unless, of course, foolishly, she chose to move. I then picked up her small dagger, and my pack, and the blankets, and again made my
way toward my space. When I reached it, I put down the pack and blankets. I also put the small dagger under my foot, and pulling up on the handle,
broke the blade away. The two parts I cast away, back by the wall. No longer would it endanger her life.  Renegades of Gor, page 90-91

"After you disarmed me, and made me helpless, what did you do with my dagger?" she asked.

"I destroyed it," I said," and threw it out."

She nodded.

"Do you object?" I asked.

"No," she said.

"It could have gotten you killed." I said.

"I realize that now," she said, "It was terribly foolish to carry it."

"True," I said.

"Beyond such matters," she said, "I should not have such a think. It was pretentious and wrong of me to have had it."

"Perhaps you will avoid such mistakes in the future," I said.

"I will," she said.

A woman's defenses are not steel, but such things as her helplessness and vulnerability, and her capacity to give astounding pleasure. Renegades of
Gor, page 125-126

The eyes of many men were hard upon her.

"She exploited men,' said a fellow.

"I will not do it again!" cried Klio.

She looked from face to face, but found little to comfort her in those countenances.

Too, besides their anger, these men were Gorean, and many of them regarded women in terms of the perfection of the collar. Too, many had been
frustrated by free women, and free women in their own city. It was a rare fellow who did not, from time to time, regard the women of his own city as
quite suitable for collaring as those of other cities. Were they not all women? Many Goreans, for example, rejoiced in the situation in Tharna, where
almost every female is a slave. Renegades of Gor, page 173

Once in Ar, several years ago, several free women, in their anger at slaves, and perhaps jealous of the masters and slaves, entered a paga tavern
with clubs and axes, seeking to destroy it. This is, I believe and example, though a rather extreme one, of a not unprecedented sort of psychological
reaction, the attempt, by disparagement or action, motivated by envy, jealousy, resentment, or such, to keep from others pleasures which one oneself
is unable, or unwilling, to enjoy. In any event, as a historical note, the men in the tavern, being Gorean, and thus not being inhibited or confused by
negativevistic, antibiological traditions, quickly disarmed the women. They then stripped them, bound their hands behind their back, put them in a neck
rope, and, by means of switches, conducted them swiftly outside the tavern. The women were then, outside the tavern, on the bridge of twenty
lanterns, forced to witness the burning of their garments. They were permitted to leave, though still bound and in coffle. Gorean men do not surrender
their birthright as males, their rightful dominance, their appropriate mastery. They do not choose to be dictated by females. The most interesting
portion of this story is its epilogue. In two or three days the women returned, mostly now barefoot, and many clad now humbly in low-caste garments.
Some had even wrapped necklaces or beads about their left ankle. They begged permission to serve in the tavern in servile capacities, such as
sweeping and cleaning. This was granted to them. Players of Gor, page 51

One may usually hire a lad from the district to direct inquiries of fellows in the area. In such inquiries, the male will normally speak to a male, and the
female to a female. This has to do not only with matters of propriety, enshrined in Gorean custom, but also with common-sense security measures. For
example, a woman would not wish to seem forward, nor, in effect, to be calling herself to the attention of a strange male, which can be dangerous on
Gor, and a woman, a free woman, might be well advised not to respond to the accostings of a strange male. He might even be a slaver, or a slaver's
man, interested in seeing if she had a pleasing voice, one suitable for a slave. Similarly if she responds to a strange male this may be taken as
evidence that she is eager to please a man and obey, two attributes which suggest her readiness, even immediately, for his collar. Players of Gor,
page 51

The pit master, in spite of the power which he doubtless held in this place, even over prisoners, as I had been informed, seemed concerned to treat
the free women with respect.This, I gathered, might be cultural, or perhaps he, somehow, oddly, despite his prtesque appearance, might be sensitive
to some subtle canons of gentility. I had noted that the guards in the pens had similarly shown great respect deference to free women. Witness of
Gor, page 273"

"Do not risk your life for me," she said. ((The woman in questions is still a legally free woman.))

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because I am only a slavegirl," she said.

"It is for such that men most cheerfully risk their lives," I said.

"Oh?" she smiled.

"Certainly," I said. "You would not expect them to go through all that trouble for a mere free female, would you?"

"Monster," she said.



"I am a free woman!" the woman at the counter cried. "That condition," said the innkeeper, "could prove temporary." "I have nowhere to go," she
said. "I am safe here. River pirates may still be within the city. It is not safe for me to be put out." "You owe me a silver tarsk," said he, "for your last
night's lodging. Too, if you would stay here this night, you must pay me another tarsk." "I do not have them," she wept. "Then you must be ejected,"
said he. "Take my baggage," she said, "my trunks." "I do not want them," he said.



It was my plan to arrange transportation downriver in the morning. My business lay not in Lara but further west on the river. Many refugees,
incidentally, had not remained in Lara. It was to close for them to the war zone. It lay well within the striking distance of a tarn cavalry, such as that
which had been employed so devastatingly on the fields and hills south of Vonda. Several ships coming and going, made their trips between Lara and
the nearer downriver towns, such as White Water and Tancred's Landing.

"You cannot put me out into the street!" she cried.

Strobius, the innkeeper, then, in irritation motioned to one of his assistants. The fellow came up behind the free woman and took her by the upper
arms, holding her from behind. She was helpless.

"Eject her," said Strobius. "You cannot put me out into the street!" she cried. "Rejoice," said Strobius, "that I do not strip you and sell you into
slavery." Rogue of Gor, page 43-44



"I believe this is the proper sum," I said. I placed two silver tarsks on the counter. "Indeed it is," said Strobius. He swept the coins from the counter
into his hand and put them in his apron. "There is your money, Fellow," said the free woman to Strobius, haughtily, as haughtily as she could manage,
still the helpless prisoner of his assistant's grip. "Yes, Lady," said he, bowing deferentially to her. "Perhaps now," she said squirming in the assistant's
grip, "you will have this ruffian unhand me."

He regarded her. She shuddered. Her Home Stone was not that of Lara, times were troubled, and Strobius was master in his own inn. Too, she had for
a time owed him money. Would he like to see her stripped and collared?

"Please kind sir," she said. Gorean men are sometimes slow to release their grip on the bodies of females. They enjoy holding them. They are men.

"Of course, Lady," said Strobius smiling, again bowing. He then signalled the fellow to release the woman, which he did. She then drew back angrily
and smoothed down her garments. Then straightening herself, she came regally to where I stood.

"My thanks, Sir," she said looking up at me. "It is nothing," I said. "I am grateful," she said. "Perhaps you would care to join me at my table," I
suggested. "There is little but sul porridge but I could order you a bowl," I said.

"One must make do in trying circumstances," she said, "with what there is." "Do you have any wine?" I asked Strobius. He smiled. "Yes," he said.
"Would you care for some wine?" I asked her.

Her eyes glistened over her veil. It had been some days, I gathered since she had been able to afford or had had wine. "Yes," she said, "it would give
me great pleasure to drink your wine." "Please go to the table," I said, indicating the table. "And I will made the arrangements." "Very well," she said
and turned away going to the table.

"Sul porridge," said Strobius, "is ten copper tarsks. I will charge you forty copper tarsks for the wine, two cups." "Very well," I said.

In a few moments he had had fellow bring a tray with the sul porridge and two cups of wine to the counter. I paid him. "Oh, by the way," I asked, "do
you have a packet of Tassa powder?" He grinned and reached under the counter. "Yes," he said handing it to me. "How much do I owe you for this?" I
asked. "For that one," he said, "it is free. Take it with the compliments of the house. "Very well," I said. Rogue of Gor, page 44- 45

"A free woman!" suddenly exclaimed Glyco, startled.
I smiled.
From the kitchen there had emerged, in the robes of concealment, the figure of a woman.
The men, save I, rose as one to their feet, for Gorean men commonly stand when a free woman enters a room. Guardsman of Gor, page 255

"Beware your words," I cautioned her.

"I am a free woman," she said. "I can speak I please.

I could no gainsay her in this. She was free. She could, accordingly, say what she wished, and without requiring permission. Mercenaries of Gor, page 7
All rights reserved.
This research is done on the series of books written by John Norman, the comments in italics are mine and my point of view.
Woman of Gor
Free Women of Different Cultures
Free Women of Gor
Free Women and Men