This harsh treatment, incidentally, when she is thought to deserve it, may even be inflicted on a Free Companion, in spite of the fact that she is free
and usually much loved. According to the Gorean way of looking at things a taste of the slave ring is thought to be occasionally beneficial to all women,
even the exalted Free Companions.

Thus when she has been irritable or otherwise troublesome even a Free Companion may find herself at the foot of the couch looking forward to a
pleasant night on the stones, stripped, with neither mat nor blanket, chained to a slave ring precisely as though she were a lowly slave girl.

It is the Gorean way of reminding her, should she need to be reminded, that she, too, is a woman, and thus to be dominated, to be subject to men.
Should she be tempted to forget this basic fact of Gorean life the slave ring set in the bottom of each Gorean couch is there to refresh her memory. Gor
is a man's world.

And yet on this world I have seen great numbers of women who were both beautiful and splendid.

The Gorean woman, for reasons that are not altogether clear to me, considering the culture, rejoices in being a woman. She is often an exciting,
magnificent, glorious creature, outspoken, talkative, vital, active, spirited. On the whole I find her more joyful than many of her earth-inhabiting sisters
who, theoretically at least, enjoy a more lofty status, although it is surely true that on my old world I have met several women with something of the
Gorean zest for acknowledging the radiant truth of their sex, the gifts of joy, grace and beauty, tenderness, and fathoms of love that we poor men, I
suspect, may sometimes and tragically fail to understand, to comprehend.

Yet with all due respect and regard for the most astounding and marvellous sex, I suspect that, perhaps partly because of my Gorean training, it is
true that a touch of the slave ring is occasionally beneficial.

Of custom, a slave girl may not even ascend the couch to serve her master's pleasure. The point of this restriction, I suppose, is to draw a clearer
distinction between her status and that of a Free Companion. At any rate the dignities of the couch are, by custom, reserved for the Free Companion.  
Priest-Kings of Gor, page 67-68

And yet it was not a strange thing, particularly not on Gor, where bravery is highly esteemed and to save a female's life is in effect to win title to it, for
it is the option of a Gorean male to enslave any woman whose life he has saved, a right which is seldom denied even by the citizens of the girl's city or
her family. Indeed, there have been cases in which a girl's brothers have had her clad as a slave, bound in slave bracelets, and handed over to her
rescuer, in order that the honour of the family and her city not be besmirched. There is, of course, a natural tendency in the rescued female to feel and
demonstrate great gratitude to the man who has saved her life, and the Gorean custom is perhaps no more than an institutionalization of this
customary response. There are cases where a free woman in the vicinity of a man she desired has deliberately placed herself in jeopardy. The man
then, after having been forced to risk his life, is seldom in a mood to use the girl other than as his slave. I have wondered upon occasion about this
practice so different on Gor than on Earth. On my old world when a woman is saved by a man she may, I understand, with propriety bestow upon him
a grateful kiss and perhaps, if we may believe the tales in these matters, consider him more seriously because of his action as a possible, eventual
companion in wedlock. One of these girls, if rescued on Gor, would probably be dumbfounded at what would happen to her. After her kiss of gratitude
which might last a good deal longer than she had anticipated she would find herself forced to kneel and be collared and then, stripped, her wrists
confined behind her back in slave bracelets, she would find herself led stumbling away on a slave leash from the field of her champion's valour. Yes,
undoubtedly our Earth girls would find this most surprising. On the other hand the Gorean attitude is that she would be dead were it not for his brave
action and thus it is his right, now that he has won her life, to make her live it for him precisely as she pleases, which is usually, it must unfortunately
be noted, as his slave girl, for the privileges of a Free Companionship are never bestowed lightly. Also of course a Free Companionship might be
refused, in all Gorean right, by the girl, and thus a warrior can hardly be blamed, after risking his life, for not wanting to risk losing the precious prize
which he has just, at great peril to himself, succeeded in winning. The Gorean man, as a man, cheerfully and dutifully attends to the rescuing of his
female in distress, but as a Gorean, as a true Gorean, he feels, perhaps justifiably and being somewhat less or more romantic than ourselves, that he
should have something more for his pains than her kiss of gratitude and so, in typical Gorean fashion, puts his chain on the wench, claiming both her
and her body as his payment. Priest-Kings of Gor, page 161-162

“She heels nicely,” said Ottar. The men and bond-maids laughed. The Forkbeard stopped. Hilda’s face burned red with fury, but she kept her head high.
Pet sleen are taught to heel; so, too, sometimes, are bond-maids; I was familiar with this sort of thing, of course; in the south it was quite common for
slave girls, in various fashions in various cities, to heel their masters.
Hilda, of course was a free woman. For her to heel was an incredible humiliation.
The Forkbeard started off again, and then again stopped. Again, Hilda followed him as before.
“She is heeling!” laughed Ottar.
There were tears of rage in Hilda’s eyes. What he said, of course, was true. She was heeling. On his ship the Fork-beard had taught her, though a free
woman, to heel.
It had not been a pleasant voyage for the daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar. She had been, from the beginning, fettered with her belly to the mast. For
a full day, too, the coverlet had been left tied over her head, fastened by the twice-turned, knotted scarf about her neck. On the second day, it had
been thrust up only that the spike of a water bag could be thrust between her teeth, and then replaced; on he third day the coverlet was torn away
and, with the scar~ thrown overboard; Ivar Forkbeard, on that day, watered her and, with a spoon, fed her a bit of bond-maid gruel.
Starving she had snatched at it greedily.
”How eagerly you eat the gruel of bond-maids,” he had commented.
Then she had refused to eat more. But, the next day, to his amusement, she reached forth her mouth eagerly for the nourishment.
On the forth day, and thereafter, for her feedings, he would tie her ankles and release her from the mast, her wrists then tethered before her, that
she might feed herself.
After the fifth day he fed her broths and some meats, that she might have good color.
With the improvement n her diet, as was his expectation, something of her haughtiness and temper returned.
On the eighth day he released her from the mast, that she might walk about the ship.
After she had walked about, he had said to her, “Are you ready to heel?”
“I am not a pet sleen!” she had cried.
“Put her to the oar,” had said the Forkbeard.
Hilda, clothed, had been roped, hand and foot, and body, on her back, head down, to one of the nineteen-foot oars.
“You cannot do this to me,” she cried.
Then, to her misery, she felt the oar move. “I am a free woman!” she cried.
Then, like any bond-maid, she found herself plunged beneath the cold green surface of Thassa.
The oar lifted.
“I am the daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar!” she cried, spitting water, half blinded.
Then the oar dipped again. When it pulled her next from the water, she was clearly terrified. She had swallowed water. She had learned what any
bond-maid swiftly learns, that one must apply oneself, and be rational, if one will survive on the oar. One must follow its rhythm, and, as soon as the
surface is broken, expel air and take a deep breath. In this fashion a girl may live on the oar.
For a time the Forkbeard watched her, leaning on hi elbows, on the rail, but then he left the rail.
He did, however, have Gorm watch her, with a spear. Twice in the afternoon Gorm struck away sea sleen from the girl’s body. Once he thrust away
one of the white sharks of the northern waters, The second of the sea sleen it had been which, with its sharp teeth, making a strike, but falling short,
had torn away her green velvet gown on the right side from the hip to the hemline; a long strip of it, like a ribbon, was in its teeth as it darted away.
She had not been on the oar for half an Ahn when she had begun to beg her release; a few Ehn later, she had be-gun to beg to heel the Forkbeard.
But it was not until evening that the oar lifted, and she was released. She was fed hot broths and fettered again to the mast.
The Forkbeard said nothing to her, but, the next day, when the sun was hot on the deck, and he released her for her exercise, and he walked about
the deck, she, though a free woman, heeled him perfectly. The crew had roared with laughter. I, too, had smiled. Hilda the Haughty, daughter of
Thorgard o~ Scagnar, had been taught to heel. Marauders of Gor, page 123,124

Greetings, Slave Beads,” said my master.
“Greetings, Master,” she said, responding to her name, as she must.
My master looked down at her, and smiled. She looked up at him, trembling. He was her master.
“Perhaps you remember, Slave Beads,” said my master, “that, on an evening, some days ago, a free woman harshly and at length punished a slave
“You know?” she asked.
“We observed, in scouting the camp,” said he. He looked down at the kneeling girl, locked in the Sirik. “The beating was well done,” said he.
“Thank you, Master,” she whispered.
“The crime of the slave girl, as I recall,” said my master, “was to desire the touch of a man.”
Lehna stood to one side. She stood straight, as an exciting slave girl.
“Yes, Master,” said Slave Beads.
“The free woman,” said my master, “was doubtless well within her rights to beat the girl.”
“Yes, Master!” said Slave Beads.
“But that free woman,” said my master, “has since that time herself fallen slave. Indeed, she is now in this camp.”
“Yes, Master,” said Slave Beads.
“The slave girl whom she beat is, too, in this camp,” said my master.
“Yes, Master,” said Slave Beads. She trembled in the Sirik.
“Do you yourself desire the touch of a man?” asked my master.
“Oh, no! No, Master!” cried Slave Beads.
“Ah,” said my master, “it seems that in this camp we have a slave girl, too, who is guilty of a crime.”
“Who, Master?” asked Slave Beads.
“You,” said he.
“Not I!” she cried.
“You,” said he.
“What is my crime?” she asked.
“Not to desire the touch of a man,” said he.
She looked at him, aghast.
“You see,” said he, “in this camp it is a crime for a girl not to desire a man´s touch.” My master turned to one of his men. “Bring Lehna a switch,” he
said. He turned again to Slave Beads. “You will be well punished for your crime, Slave Girl,” said he.
“I am ready, Master,” said Lehna.
“Do not forget this beating,” said my master. “You are to desire men. Further, it will be well for you to learn what it is to be a beaten slave girl. What
you did to Lehna she will now do to you. Perhaps you will then have a richer understanding of what it was, truly, that you did to her. Perhaps you will
regret that you were not a kinder mistress.”
“She will regret it, Master,” promised Lehna, licking her lips.
“I will now leave you to the tender mercies of Lehna,” said my master. “Let us hope that, in the future, your masters and mistresses will be kinder to
you than was the Lady Sabina of Fortress of Saphronicus to her slaves.”
“Do not leave me with her, Master!” cried Slave Beads. “She will kill me! She will kill me!”
“It is not impossible,” said my master. He turned to leave, then turned. again to face the kneeling, terrified Slave Beads. “It is my hope, too,” said he,
“that this beating will prove a useful initiation for you, given your antecedents and nature, into the condition of slavery.” He looked at her, sternly.
“Yes, Master,” she said, looking up at him. “After your beating,” he said, “you will be asked again if you desire the touch of men. I trust, then, your
answer will be affirmative. If it is not, you will be again beaten, and again, throughout the night.”
“My answer will be affirmative, Master,” whispered Slave Beads.
My master then turned away from her, and so, too, did we all, leaving her with Lehna.
Later my master took Slave Beads by the hair. “Do you now desire the touch of men?” he asked. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, Master,” she wept.
She was then released from the Sirik. “Go to the men,” said my master.
“Yes, Master,” she said. She crawled to the men, on her hands and knees. She extended her hand to one of them, and looked up at him, with tears in
her eyes. “Please touch Slave Beads, Master,” she begged.
He took her by the hair and pulled her into the darkness. We did not retire that night until Slave Beads, on her knees, had begged the touch of each of
my master’s men. He himself was the last to grant her plea. When he had finished with her he put her again in the Sirik and threw her to the wall of
the cliff. Eta went to her and, putting a rep-cloth blanket about her, held her and comforted her. “Poor slave,” said Eta.
I, and the other girls, went to sleep. Slavegirl of Gor, page 159-160

"I do not understand what I am doing here," she said, "naked and tied beside you."

"Really?" I asked.

"It can not be that!" she said.

"Why not?" I asked.

"I am free!" she said.

"But your bills are not paid," I said.

She made an angry noise.

"It seems that this time you did not manage to inveigle some fellow into paying them for you."

"What are you going to do to me?" she asked.

"What do you think?" I asked.

"Not that," she said.

"Precisely," I said.

"I am not an inn girl," she said. "I am a free woman! I am not subject to guest use!"

"Were you told you were not subject to guest use?" I asked.

"No," she said, hesitantly.

"So?" I said.

"But I assumed, of course, as I was free—"

"Are you a virgin?" I asked.

"That is surely a personal matter," she said. "Surely that is my own business."

"It would take only a moment for me to make the determination," I said.

"No," she said, pulling back. "I am not a virgin.

"It would seem then," I said, "that at least once or twice you must have had to pay off fellows for their assistance."

"They were not gentlemen," she said.

"I think you will discover," I said, "that from now on you no longer possess bargaining power in such matters."

"I do not understand," she said.

"In the future," I said, "I think you will find that you will no longer have control over the gratifications which might be attendant upon your uses, nor
over the numbers, times or natures of them."

"I do not understand," she said, frightened.

"I am pleased you are not a virgin," I said. "Thus our relationship can be much simpler."

"Am I truly available to you?" she asked.

"Yes," I said. "I paid for you, for the Ahn."

"Paid?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"It must have been terribly expensive," she said.

"The price of an inn girl here," I said, "is three copper tarsks for the quarter of an Ahn."

"That is extremely expensive, is it not?" she asked.

"Terribly so," I agreed. I was not too pleased with the keeper. Surely he was a heinously gouging scoundrel. Other than that, however, he seemed a
rather good fellow. Space 97, for example, did have one edge, the top edge, on the wall.

"If a common inn girl costs so much," she breathed, "how could you even begin to afford someone like me? You must have been devastatingly smitten
with my beauty!"

"You are actually a bit fat," I said, "but I think that could be worked off you, with a sparing, judicious diet, complex exercises, suitable disciplines, and

"Perhaps I should try to be pleasing to you," she said, impressed.

"Why?" I asked. She was, after all, a free woman.

"You must have paid at lest a golden tarn disk," she said, "to have rights over me, for a whole Ahn."

"No," I said.

"Nine silver tarsks?" she asked.

"No," I said.

"Five?" she asked.

"No," I said. "I paid only a tarsk bit."

"What!" she said.

"Shhh," I cautioned her. "Do not awaken the guests."

"That is absurd!" she said. "I am a free woman."

"It is doubtless a great deal more than you are worth," I said.

"I will see to it," she said, "that I do not give you any pleasure."

"I think," I said, "you will find it difficult to do anything about that," I pulled her to me.

"Beast!" she said.

"Your squirming," I said, "is delightful."

She cried out in frustration, and then held herself as still as possible.

I smiled to myself. How fortunate for this woman that she was a free female, and not a slave.

"Yes," she said, angrily, trying to hold herself still, her hands behind her, tied.

I felt the tag, attached on the chain, near the padlock. "It seems to have the shape of a malformed tarn," I said, "a crooked neck, an enlarged right leg
and talons."

"It does," she said, angrily.

"It resembles the sign within the palisade then," I said, "that which is visible for a pasang or so, down the road, the sign of the ‘Crooked Tarn´."

"Of course," she said.

I jerked the tag, playfully. "And where is this little tag?" I asked.

"It is on me," she said, seething, trying to hold herself still.

"Does it have writing on it?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

Surely it would.

"They must have shown it to you before they put it on you."

"Yes," she said.

"What does it say?" I asked.

"Debtor," she said. "Oh!" she said.

"What else?" I asked.

"My wrists have been thonged!" she said. "My hands have been tied behind my back! I cannot free them! Do you not know what that means? Do you
not understand? I am helpless!"

"You should have paid your bills," I said. "I thought you were not supposed to move."

"Oh!" she said, angrily. Then, again, she said, "oh!" but softly, startled.

I desisted in my attentions.

She controlled herself, and did not press against me.

"The word ‘debtor´ is in large letter," she said. "Beneath it, in smaller letters, it says ‘Inquire at the Crooked Tarn pertinent to Redemption Fees.´"

"Would you like your hands untied?" I asked.

"Yes!" she said.

"Turn about," I said.

Swiftly she did so.

"Ah," I said.

"Are you not going to untie my hands?" she asked, anxiously.

"No!" I said.

"Beast!  Beast!" she said.

I held her where she was.

"I am a free woman!" she said.

I desisted, again, in my attentions, but I kept her where she was.

"I have never been near a man before," she said, "like this."

"How does it make you feel?" I asked.

"It makes me fee vulnerable," she said.

"You are vulnerable," I said.

The palms of her hands, as she was, faced me. The palms of a woman´s hands are extremely sensitive. I traced a little pattern in the palm of her right

"I am not a Kajira!" she said.

The pattern I had traced in her palm was that of a small cursive ‘Kef´, the first letter in the expression ‘Kajira´. The cursive ‘Kef´, in one variation or
another, is commonly used as a slave brand for females.

"I suppose you had better get done with it," she said.

"With what?" I asked.

"With my humiliation," she said.

"I see," I said.

She pushed back a bit, but, because I held her, she could not reach me.

"You may use me," she said. "I give you my permission."

"Your permission is not required," I said.

"I suppose not," she said.

"You are not in shackles," I said.

"They were removed," she said.

"Why do you suppose that was?" I asked.

"To make me more convenient to guests, it would seem," she said.

"Yes," I said.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I am untying your hands," I said.

"Why?" she asked.

"You sound disappointed," I said.

"Certainly not!" she said.

I did wrap the thong about her left wrist, tucking in the ends. In this way it would remain upon her body, and be immediately available, if I wished to
make use of it later. The symbolism of this, and the convenience of it, would not elude the Lady Temione. She was Gorean.

"May I turn about?" she asked.

"No," I said.

"Do you think the keeper's man anticipated that the thong might be removed?" she asked.

"He would certainly suppose it might be," I said. "He would recognize, of course, that it might be removed from your body, or, indeed, be used to tie
you in any one of a hundred other ways.

She shuddered.

"But now that I am not shackled, or bound," she said, "might I not escape?"

"You are within the palisade," I said.

"That is true," she said, thoughtfully.

"Too, even if you were outside the palisade, I do not think you would get too far, naked, with a chain on your neck, the identifying tag, and so on."

"May I turn about?" she asked.

"Very well," I said.

"Am I attractive?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"For a free woman?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"I wish," she whispered, "that I was attractive, even for a slave."

"I would not trouble myself, if I were you," I said, "about my lack of slave attractiveness."

"The warrior in the paga room," she said, "did not want me. He rejected me!"

"You are only a free woman," I reminded her.

"You received kisses from the women outside, those chained to the rings," she said, "Amina, Rimice, and the others, if I may believe you."

"Yes," I said.

"And I told you," she said, "that you would never receive one from me."

"Yes," I said. "I recall that."

"I relent," she said.

"Oh?" I said.

"Yes," she said. "You may kiss me."

I did not kiss her.

"May I kiss you?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

Softly her lips met mine. It was a brief, delicate kiss, frightened. Then she drew back.

"What is wrong? ´ I asked.

"I am afraid of my feelings," she said.

"They are a part of you," I said. "Do not be afraid of them."

"Let us get on with it," she said, suddenly, angrily.

"With what?" I asked.

"Your use of me," she said.

"I see," I said.

"I owe a silver tarsk, five," she said, miserably. "If you have paid only a tarsk bit for my use, it will take me, at that rate, months to earn my redemption
from the keeper."

I was silent.

"So take me in your cruel arms like iron," she said. "Force me to pant and sweat, and kiss. Hurry!"

"There is something I think you must understand, first," I said.

"What is that?" she asked.

"You owe a silver tarsk, five," I said, "and I have paid a tarsk bit for your use, for an Ahn, but that does not mean that you are then reducing your debt
by a tarsk bit."

"What?" she said.

"The usual arrangement in such matters," I said, "which doubtless obtains, unless you have been informed differently, is that the money you are
earning, you are earning not for yourself, but for the keeper. It does not in any way diminish your debt."

"No!" she said.

"Yes," I said. "In this way the keeper gets some good out of you. Too, in this way he is less likely to lose money on, say, your feed."

"Then," she said, "he could keep me here as long as he wants! I could be kept here at his mercy, in this terrible place, as long as it is his will!"

"You might, of course, be redeemed," I pointed out.

"Yes!" she said, eagerly. "I must find a splendid gentleman, and piteously beg that!"

I did not, personally, think she would now be as successful in that sort of thing as she might have been earlier, when fully clothed. It is one thing for a
free woman, tearfully, while in the dignity of robes and veil, to attempt to impose on a fellow's gullibility or good nature, and quite another for her to
do so when she is unclothed. When a woman is naked it is sometimes hard for a man not to see her as a female. Clearly, too, the Lady Temione´s
body suggested the exquisite latency of slave curves.

"Perhaps you will find some fellow willing to do so," I said, "who will then expect that you will fling yourself into his arms, agreeing to be his

"Yes," she said, thoughtfully.

"I gather that that sort of thing has worked for you before," I said.

"Yes," she said.

"And his reward then," I speculated, "would be a grateful peek through your veil?"

"I am a free woman," she said. "I trust not."

"Perhaps, then, a grateful glance, a squeezing of a hand, a heartfelt utterance of thanks?"

"The important thing," she said, "is to make certain that your bills have been paid, and that you are in the clear. After that, you may simply leave. I
often merely turn my back upon them, for they are fools. They stand there then, knowing they have been tricked."

"I would suppose that that sort of thing might not work with all men," I said, "perhaps not with even all gentlemen."

"True," she said, "it is wise to reward some with at least the squeezing of the hand, an expression of gratitude, or such, before hurrying away."

"You must leave a few frustrated fellows in your wake," I speculated.

"I enjoy frustrating men," she said, angrily. I gathered from her vehemence that she was disappointed in men, that she had decided to despise them,
that she wished to hold them in contempt. I gathered, too, however, that she was fascinated with them, and that something in her feared them, or
what they might be.

"Fortunately I managed to elude them," she said.

"I wonder what they had on their mind," I said.

"I have no idea," she said. Rogue of Gor, page 92 to 99

"I must find a gentleman to redeem me," she said, "a true gentleman, one who will take pity on me and nobly buy me out of my difficulties."

"Another fool?" I asked.

"Yes!" she laughed.

I was silent.

"But do you think I will find one?" she asked, anxiously. "Never before have I been stripped and put in a chain collar."

"Perhaps," I said.

"I must!" she said, firmly. Rogue of Gor, page 100

"I suppose," I said, "I should be pleased that you did not order me to strip completely and kneel before you."

"You are, of course," he said, "a free woman."

"Yet is seems," I said, "if only implicitly, you have threatened me."

"Suitable disciplines and punishments may be arranged for a free woman," he said, "suitable to her status and dignity." Kajira og Gor, page 174

I did not want to die.

I heard the music in the distance.

I wished that I were a slave, that I might have a chance for life, that I might have the opportunity to convince a master somehow, in any way possible,
that I might be worth sparing. But I was a free woman and would be subjected only to the cold and inhuman mercies of the law. Kajira of Gor, page

(A free women disrobed and pleaded to please a wagoner, to serve as a slave.)

"I am Tula from your village," she wept, "she who was too good for you, she who refused your suit!"

"You shame the village!" he cried

"Whip me!"

she wept.

He leaped down from the wagon box. Another wagon, to one side of us, rolled by, He dragged her, two stripes on her body, gray in the shadows, by
the arm, back, and to the rear of the wagon. He stood her by the back, right wheel of the wagon. "Face the wheel," he said, "Hold the wheel rim!" She
seized it, putting her head down. He lifted the whip, in fury, "Whip me," she said. Three blows fell upon her. "But feed me!" she begged. Two more
blows fell upon her. Then she clung to the wheel, gasping, sobbing. As a male of her village it was his duty to discipline her for what shame she had
brought to the village. Mercenaries of Gor, page 41

Boabissia looked at me, angrily.

"Good," said Mincon.

With my thumb I pressed the small sack more deeply into her mouth, until her lovely, sometimes irritating oral orifice was well stuffed with it. The small
sack had drawstrings. These I took to the sides and yanked back, drawing them deeply back between her teeth, and then knotted them tightly behind
the back of her neck. I could not make out what she was saying.

"Be silent," I said to her.

She stopped saying whatever it was she was saying.

"You will leave this as it is,' I said, "until one of the men with the wagon sees fit to remove it."

She looked at me.

"If you should remove it yourself, or attempt to do so,' I said, " It will be promptly replaced, or resecured, and you will be stripped and put in slave
bracelets, your hands behind your back. Furthermore, you will then be put on a rope and will follow the wagon, naked, and so braceleted and gagged,
as might a slave. Do you understand? If so, nod, Yes."

Boabissia looked at me in fury. And then, tears in her eyes, she nodded. I then returned to the road. Mercenaries of Gor, page 92

"Relax, Boabissia," I encouraged her. "You have serious sexual needs, which you have been frustrating for too long. This has been evident in your
temper, and in your demeanor and attitudes. This will do you a great deal of good."

"I am not a slave!" she said, weeping,struggling."I am a free woman! I do not have sexual needs!"

"Perhaps not," I said. To be sure, it was difficult, and probably fruitless, to argue with a free woman about such matters. Too, I might have misread
what seemed to be numerous and obvious signs of need in her. Perhaps free women neither needed nor wanted sexual experience. That, I supposed,
was their business. On the other hand, if they did not want or need sex, the transformation between the free woman and the slave become difficult to
understand. To be sure, perhaps it is merely the collar, and the uncompromising male domination, which so unlocks, and calls forth, the passion,
service and love of a female.

"What are you doing?" she asked. Weeping.

"Doubtless men will be here soon," I said.

"What are you doing?" she wept.

I put the opaque sack over her head and tied it, with its own strings, under her chin, close about her neck, rather like a slave hood. "This will make it
easier for you," I said. "I am veiling you. Too, this will enable you, by shutting out certain extraneous factors, to concentrate more closely on the exact
nature of your sensations."

"Release me!" she wept.

"No," I said.

I heard a fellow near me. I looked about. "She is certified free?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. "Examine her."

He thrust Boabissia's dress up, high, over her breasts. He examined her thighs, and the usual brand sites on a Gorean female slave.

"How much?" he asked.

"She is only a free woman,' I said. I put a copper bowl on the ground, beside her, at her left. "She is not trained. Only a tarsk bit." It was the smallest,
elast significant Gorean coin, at least in common circulation.

"In advance," I said. Men are commonly disappointed in free women, and almost certainly if they have experienced the alternative. They are not
slaves, trained in the giving of pleasure to men, Some free women believe that their role in lovemaking consists primarily in lying down. Should they
become slaves the whip soon teaches them differently. Mercenaries of Gor, page 119 to 121

"It is a joke," she said. "He has captured a free female. We will put her stripped back in one of the tunnel alcoves. Her wrists will be braceleted behind
her, chained to a slave ring. She will be unable to speak, being perfectly gagged. She will be left there in the darkness, helpless."

"But she might be used." I said.

"It is not imporssible,' she said. "It is a matter of chance. Access to her will be unrestricted as that to a slave."

"Do you approve of such things?" I asked.

"If she is a feminine female," she said, "Of course. Such belong to men."

"It is a splendid joke," she said.

"What is done with them later?" I asked.

"Nothing,' she said."We just put them out naked in the back, in the morning. It they have been used, however, we tie their hands behind their back
and, on a cord about their waist, suspend a punched tarsk bit n their belly."

"Why would someone do this sort of thing to a free women?" I asked.

"Perhaps they found her displeasing in some way," she said. "And thought it might do her a bit of good, to discover something about what it is to be a
female." Mercenaries of Gor, pave 314-315

Lady Claudia shuddered. In such an impalement, the female is usually simply set upon the spear. It is not necessary to bind them, as, straightened,
they cannot reach the spear nor obtain leverage for removing themselves from it. They are help upon it, helplessly, by their own weight. Usually, such
a fate is visited only upon a free woman. It is thought that it gives them time to consider and repent their ways. A slave girl on the other hand, would
be more likely, like meat, to be thrown to sleen. Renegades of Gor, page 223-224

“Give me my veil!” demanded the woman, coming forward.

I handed it to her.

She turned about, adjusting it.

“Pick up my pouch,” she said, her back to us. “Give it to me.”

I picked up the pouch. The lads had now withdrawn some forty yards or so away. They were gathered about the fellow whom I had had down on his
knees, his arm behind him, the wrist bent. He was still undoubtedly in pain.

“Give me my pouch!” she demanded.

I looked at the group of youths.

The fellow's wrist had not been broken. I had not chosen to do that.

One or another of the lads, from time to time, looked back at us. I did not think they would return, however. To be sure, Marcus might have welcomed
that. His sword was still unsheathed. Too, I did not think they would be interested in causing the lady further inconvenience.

I felt the woman's hand snatch at the pouch and my own hand, almost reflexively, closed on the pouch.

Her eyes flashed angrily over the veil, an opaque street veil, now readjusted.

“Give it to me!” she said.

“It was our mistake to interfere,” said Marcus, dryly. He resheathed his blade.

“Give it to me!” said the woman.

“You are rude,” I said.

She tugged at the pouch.

“Are you not grateful?” I asked.

“It demeans a free woman to express gratitude,” she said.

“I do not think so,” I said.

“Are you not paid for your work?” she asked.

“Are you not grateful?´ I asked.

“I am not a slave!” she asked.

“Are you not grateful?” I asked, again.

“Yes,” she said. “I am grateful! Now, give it to me!”

“Ah,” I said. “Perhaps you are a slave.”

“No!” she said.

“What do you think of this free woman?” I asked Marcus.

She reacted angrily, but did not release the pouch.

“Do you think she might be more civil,” I asked, “if she were stripped?”

“Yes,” he said, “particularly if she were also branded and collared.”

“She would then learn softness, as opposed to hardness,” I said.

“It would be in her best interest to do so,” said Marcus.

“Yes,” I said.

She released the pouch and stepped back a little.

Her eyes were now wide, over the veil.

“Perhaps she is the sort of woman who is best kept in a kennel,” I said, “to be brought forth when one wishes, for various labors.”

“such women are all haughty wenches,” he said. “But they quickly lose their haughtiness in bondage.”

“Please,” she said. “Give me the coins.”

I did not release them.

“Give them to me!” she said, angrily.

“Would you not like to learn softness, as opposed to hardness?´ I asked.

She looked at me, angrily.

“Women learn it quickly in bondage,” I said.

“It is in their best interest to do so,” said Marcus.

“Yes,” I said.

“Surely you have wondered what it would be, to be a slave?” inquired Marcus.

She gasped. Only too obviously had she considered such matters.

“But then,” I said, “you may not be attractive enough to be a slave.”

She did not speak.

I put the pouch inside my tunic.

“Oh!” she said, for I had then reached up and taken her hood in my hands.

“We shall see,” I said.

“Oh!” she said, startled.

Marcus held her from behind, by the arms.

I pushed back her hood and thrust it down. I then jerked away the veil, and surveyed her features.

“I think you, like most women, would make an adequate slave,” I said.

She squirmed.

“Hold her wrists together,” I said. I then tied them together, behind her back, with her veil.

She moaned.

She could not now readjust the veil.

“Please,” she begged. “Let me veil myself. Slavers might see me!”

“You were not pleasing,” I said.

I then took the pouch of coins in my hands and lofted it to the group of lads some forty yards away. Their leader caught it. They then turned about,
and ran.

The woman looked at me, astonished, aghast.

“Your lips are pretty,” I said. “They could possibly be trained to kiss well.”

Tears sprang to her eyes.

“And lest you return home too quickly,” I said, “we shall do this.” I then crouched down and tore off a bit of the hem of her robes, but not enough to
offend her modesty, for example, revealing her ankles, and, using the cloth as a bond, fastened her ankles together, leaving her some four or five
inches of slack, rather like a slave girl's hobble chains.

“She might even bring a good price in a market,” said Marcus.

“I am sure of it,” I said.

“Sleen!” said a free woman, bundled in the robes of concealment, heavily veiled, hurrying by. Doubtless she had witnessed, from a distance, the fate
of her compatriot. Players of Gor, page 170 to 172
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
Punishment & Lessons of Free Women