That was true, at least from the point of view of a red hunter. Women of the red hunters are furred differently from the hunters. Their boots, soft, of sleen
skin, are high, and reach the crotch, instead of the knee. Instead of trousers of fur they wear brief panties of fur. When they cover their breasts it is
commonly with a shirt of beaded lart skin. In cold weather they, like the men, wear one or more hooded parkas of tabuk hide. Tabuk hide is the warmest
pelt in the arctic. Each of the hairs of the northern tabuk, interestingly, is hollow. Beasts of Gor, page 163

“Pull on the stockings,” said Thimble to Arlene. Arlene did so. The stockings were of lart fur. Each, in its side, wore the sign of the looped binding fiber.
“Now,” said Thimble, “the boots.” In cold weather a layer of grass, for warmth, for insulation, changed daily, is placed in the bottom of the boots, between
the inside sole of the boot and the foot of the stocking. Arlene now, of course, did not bother with this. The best harvests of grass for use in this way
occur, naturally at the foot of the bird cliffs. Arlene drew on the high boots. They reached to her crotch. It was a hot crotch, as I had determined, a superb
crotch for a slave girl. The fur trim at their top touched the panties. She was stripped from the waist up. Many of the women of the red hunters, too, went
about so, inside and outside the tents, in the warmer weather. They of course, being free, did not have leather, like Arlene, or bondage strings, like
Thimble and Thistle, at their throats. Similarly, their garments did not bear the slave marks of the looped binding fiber. Such marks, of course, were not
necessary, in the north, for determining what Thimble, and Thistle and Arlene were. Even the leather or bondage strings at their throats were not
necessary for that purpose. Their white skins alone, as they were females, identified them as slave beasts. Beasts of Gor, page 185

I suppose I was not watching well where I was going. I was watching the fellow being tossed in the fur blanket. The leather ball struck my back.
That was not all that struck my back. In a moment a small woman, a girl of the red hunters, fiery and very angry, was striking it. She stopped striking my
back primarily because I turned to face her. She was then, however, striking my chest. After a time she stopped and, looking up at me, began to scold me
I am pleased in some respects that words are less dangerous than arrows and daggers, else there surely would have been little left of me.
She finally grew weary of berating me. I gather she had done a good job of this from the interest and occasional commendations of the onlookers.
She looked at me, angrily. She wore the high fur boots and panties of the woman of the north. As it was, from their point of view, a hot day, one which
was above the freezing point, she, like most of the women of the red hunters, was stripped to the waist. About her neck she wore some necklaces. She
seemed pretty, but her temper might have shamed that of a she-sleen. The fur she wore, interestingly, was rather shabby. Her carriage and the
sharpness of her tongue, however, suggested she must be someone of importance. I would later learn that the unmated daughters of even important
men, namely, good hunters, were often kept in the poorest of furs. It is up to the mate, or husband, if you wish, to bring them good furs. This perhaps is
intended as an encouragement to the girls to be a bit fetching, that they may attract a man and, subsequently, have something nice to wear. If this were
the plan, however, clearly it had not yet worked in the case of my pretty critic. I was not surprised. It would be a bold fellow indeed who would dare to
make her a present of fine feasting clothes.
She tossed her head and turned away. Her hair was worn knotted in a bun on the top of her head, like that generally of the women of the red hunters.
Their hair is worn loose, interestingly, out of doors, only during their menstrual period. In a culture where the gracious exchange of mates is commonly
practiced this device, a civilized courtesy, provides the husband´s friends with information that may be pertinent to the timing of their visits. This culture
signal, incidentally, is not applicable to a man´s slaves in the north. Animals do not dress their hair and slaves, generally, do not either. Imnak sometimes
did give Thimble and Thistle a red string to tie back their hair, but often he did not; he did with them what he pleased, and they did for him what they were
told. He usually gave them the red string when he took them out with him, as a way of showing them off. Imnak had his vanities. I had not bothered to
place Arlene under any strictures in these regards. Sometimes she wore her hair up, and sometimes let it fall loosely about her shoulders. Beasts of Gor,
page 192 -193

Usually such a boat is paddled by women, but no women were now within it. One would not risk a woman in our current work, even a slave beast. Beasts
of Gor, page 258

The ulo, or woman´s knife, with its semicircular blade, customarily fixed in a wooden handle, is not well suited to carving. It is better at cutting meat and
slicing sinew. Also, carving ivory and bone requires strength. But women sing as well as men. Sometimes they sing of feasting clothes, and lovers, and
their skill in quartering tabuk. Beasts of Gor, page 264

Courtship of the Red Hunters

It is not easy to knock at a tent.
“Greetings, Kadluk,” I called.
A coppery face poked itself outside the tent. It was a very broad face, with high cheekbones, and very dark, bright eyes, a face framed in cut, blue-black
hair, with bangs across the forehead.
“Ah,” beamed Kadluk. “You must be the young man who has come to carry off my daughter.”
“Yes,” I said. He seemed in a good mood. He had, perhaps, waited years for this moment.
“She is not yet ready,” said Kadluk, shrugging apologetically. “You know how girls are.”
“Yes,” I said. I looked back a few yards to where Imnak stood, lending me moral support. He smiled and waved encouragingly. Reassured I stood waiting
outside the tent.
I waited for several minutes.
Another figure emerged from the tent, a woman, Tatkut, or Wick-Trimmer, the woman of Kadluk, the mother of Poalu. She smiled up at me and bowed
slightly, and handed me a cup of tea.
“Thank you,” I said, and drank the tea.
After a time she returned and I handed her back the cup. “Thank you again,” I said.
She smiled, and nodded, and returned to the tent.
Imnak sidled up to me. He was looking worried. “It should not take this long to carry a girl off,” he whispered. I nodded.
“It should not take this long to carry a girl off,” I called. Imnak backed away, expectantly.
Inside the tent then we heard an argument in course. There was much expostulation. I could make out Poalu´s voice, and that of Kadluk and Tatkut. They
spoke in their own tongue and I could pick up but few of the words. I did hear the expression for Bazi tea a few times. I gathered that Kadluk had little
intention, or desire at any rate, to return Imnak´s quantities of Bazi tea, or other gifts, to him.
After a time Kadluk´s head reappeared. “She does not want to be carried off,” he said.
“Well, that is that,” I shrugged. I turned to Imnak. “She does not want to be carried off,” I said. “Let us return to our tent.”
“No, no!” cried Imnak. “You must now rush into the tent and carry her off by force.”
“Is Kadluk armed?” I asked.
“What possible difference could that make?” asked Imnak.
“I thought it might make a difference,” I said. I still remembered the harpoon and the sleen.
“No,” said Imnak. “Kadluk!” he called.
Kadluk came outside the tent.
“It seems your daughter must be carried away by force,” said Imnak.
“Yes,” agreed Kadluk. This reassured me.
“Go ahead,” said Imnak. “Go in and get her.”
“Very well,” I said.
“She has a knife,” said Kadluk.
“Go ahead,” urged Imnak.
“We need not make haste in this matter,” I observed. “Are you sure you really want to have Poalu in your tent? Perhaps you should subject the matter to
further consideration.”
“But we love one another,” said Imnak.
“Why do you not go in and get her yourself?” I asked.
“I am too shy,” said Imnak, hanging his head.
“Perhaps she will listen to reason,” I said, hopefully.
Kadluk turned about, holding his sides. In a moment he was rolling on the ground. Red hunters are often demonstrative in the matter of their emotions. In
a few moments ho had regained his composure, wiping the tears from his eyes.
I lifted aside the tent flap, cautiously, Inside was Ponln. She was dressed in feasting clothes. Near her was her mother, Tatkut, beaming her pride in her
I dodged as the knife sailed past my head, narrowly missing Imnak outside.
“You will never carry me off by force!” she cried.
“I grant you the likelihood of that,” I said.
She seized a heavy iron pan, of the sort used out of doors across stones for cooking.
It would not be pleasant to have that utensil beating on my head.
“Look,” I said, “I am supposed to carry you off.”
“Don´t touch me,” she said.
“The arrangements have all been made,” I pointed out.
“I did not make them,” she said.
That seemed to me a good point. “She says she did not make the arrangements,” I called out to Imnak.
“That does not matter,” called Imnak in to me.
“That does not matter,” I told her.
“It does matter,” she said.
“It does matter, she says,” I relayed to Imnak, outside.
“No, it does not matter,” he ‘said.
“It does not matter,” I relayed to Poalu, from Imnak outside.
“She is only a woman,” pointed out Imnak.
“You are only a woman,” I told her, relaying Imnak´s point. It seemed to me a good one.
She then rushed forward, striking down at me with the heavy, flat pan. I removed it from her. I did this that I not be killed.
She then fled to the back of the tent. She looked about, but found nothing else which seemed suitable as a weapon. Kadluk, I then understood, had
wisely removed his gear, such as knives and arrows, from the tent before Imnak and. I had arrived.
His daughter was as well known to him as others, of course.
“Would you please hand me the blubber hammer behind you,” asked Poalu.
Obligingly I handed her the hammer. I thought I could probably avoid or fend its blows. The object, wooden-handled, with a stone head, is used for
pounding blubber to loosen the oil in the blubber, which is used in the flat, oval lamps.
“Thank you,” said Poalu.
“You´re welcome,” I said.
She then faced me, holding the hammer.
“If you do not wish to be carried off,” I said, “why are you wearing your feasting clothes?”
“Isn´t she pretty?” asked Tatkut, smiling.
“Yes,” I admitted.
Poalu looked at me, shrewdly. “I am not your ordinary girl,” she said, “whom you may simply carry off.”
“That seems certain,” I granted her.
“Where is Imnak?” she asked.
Surely she knew he was just outside the tent. “He is just outside the tent,” I said.
“Why does he not carry me off?” she asked.
“I wish that he would,” I said. “He is shy.”
“Well,” she said, “I am not going.”
“She says she is not going,” I called out to Imnak.
There was a pause. Then I heard Imnak say, “That is all right with me.”
Poalu seemed startled. I was relieved. I turned about to take my departure.
“Wait,” she said. “Aren´t you going to carry me off?”
“I would be content,” I said, “if it were up to me, to leave you in your father´s tent forever.”
I heard Imnak outside. “Yes,” he said, “it is all right with me if she does not come.”
“I will give you back your gifts, Imnak,” said Kadluk, rather more loudly than was necessary.
“You may keep them,” said Imnak, expansively.
“No, I could not do that,” said Kadluk. I found myself hoping that he would indeed return Imnak´s gifts. We in Imnak´s tent could use that Bazi tea, those
furs and the tabuk steaks.
“It will be amusing to hear the songs they will sing in the feasting house about Poalu,” said Imnak, loudly, “how no one wants her.”
“How can you carry me off?” called Poalu. “You have no sled.”
“There is no snow,” I said to her.
“There is a proper way and an improper way to do things,” said Poalu to me.
“Oh, look,” said Imnak, “here is a sled.”
Poalu, still clutching the blubber hammer, poked her head outside.
There was indeed a sled there, that which Imnak had built at the wall, and which the girls had drawn, that sled by means of which his supplies and gear
had been transported across Ax Glacier.
Harnessed to the sled, in their full furs, were Thimble, Thistle and Arlene.
“Ho! Ho!” called Poalu, derisively. “You would expect to carry a girl off in a sled drawn by white-skinned slave beasts! What a scoundrel you are! How
“I will borrow a snow sleen,” said Imnak. “Will that be sufficient?”
I thought a snow sleen, one of those long, vicious animals, would surely be puzzled to find itself attached to a sled where there was no snow.
“Perhaps,” called Poalu.
Imnak unhitched Thimble, Thistle and Arlene. They stood about, puzzled. He then turned and left the vicinity of the tent. “Would you like more tea?” asked
“Yes, thank you,” I said. I was at least getting some of the tea back which Imnak had given to Kadluk.
In a few minutes Imnak returned with a snow sleen on a stout leash. Soon it was hitched to the sled. It was Akko´s animal, and he, in the fashion of the
red hunters, had cheerfully volunteered its services.
“Someone has a snow sleen hitched to a sled outside of the tent of someone,” called Imnak.
“It is a poor beast,” said Poalu. “Find a better.”
“Someone has not even looked at it,” said Imnak.
Poalu stuck her head out the tent. “It is a poor beast.” said Poalu. “Find a better.”
Imnak, for no reason that was clear to me, scouted about and located another snow sleen.
“That is worse than the other,” said Poalu.
Imnak angrily unhitched the second animal, and rehitched the first one, that which belonged to Akko.
“Surely you do not expect me to ride behind so poor a beast?” inquired Poalu.
“Of course not,” said Imnak. He made ready to leave.
“What are you doing?” asked Poalu.
“I am going away,” said Imnak. “I am going to my tent.”
“I suppose it will have to do,” said Poalu.
“You could strike her heavily along the side of the head.” said Kadluk to me. “That is what I did with Tatkut.” Tatkut nodded, beaming.
“It is a thought,” I said.
“Will no one protect a girl from being carried off!” cried Poalu.
She still carried the blubber hammer. If struck properly with it one might be brained.
“Is there no one who will save me?” wailed Poalu.
Kadluk looked about, anxious should anyone interfere. There were by now several bystanders about.
“Naartok,” cried Poalu, “will you not save me?”
A heavy fellow nearby shook his head vigorously. He still carried his right arm high and close to his body, his shoulder hunched somewhat. I recalled that
Poalu had in the past driven her blade into his body somewherer in that vicinity. Imnak had warned me that Naartok, his rival, might try to kill me, to
prevent my carrying Poalu off. Naartok, however, seemed competely willing that I should undertake that task. It was clear that I had his best wishes for
success in this endeavor. Naartok, like many of the red hunters, was not a fellow to be bitter about such things.
“Come along,” I said to Poalu. “It will soon be dark.” That was true. In a few weeks the Arctic night would descend.
She hurled the blubber hammer at my head and I slipped to the side. It sped past me and struck Naartok a cruel blow on the forehead.
She fled back into the tent and I nimbly pursued her. In the tent I scooped her up and threw her over my shoulder. Her small fists beat rapidly on my back.
“Will you stop that?” I asked.
“I do not want to go,” she said.
“Oh,” I said.
I put her to her feet and turued about, leaving the tent. “She says she does not want to go,” I told Imnak.
“Go back,” urged Imnak.
“Nonsense,” I said. “Look, Imnak,” I said, “I value your friendship but I have really had enough of this. I frankly do not think Poalu wants to be carried off
by me.”
Imnak looked at me, miserable.
“That is my considered opinion,” I told him, confirming his fears.
“You will just have to carry her off yourself,” I said.
“I am too shy,” he wailed.
“Well, let us go home then,” I said, “for I have drunk enough tea at the tent of Kadluk and evaded enough missiles to last me for several years.”
“It is true,” said Imnak, glumly. “You have endured more than one could rightfully ask of a friend.”
“Too,” I pointed out, “I was of aid in freeing the tabuk at the wall.”
“Yes,” said Imnak. “Forgive me, my friend, for imposing on you.”
“It was no imposition,” I said. “I would cheerfully carry off a girl for you, but it is one thing to carry off a girl and quite another to carry off Poalu.”
“Poalu is a girl,” said Imnak.
“I am not at all sure of that,” I said.
“Do you think she may be a she-sleen?” asked Imnak, concerned. His metaphysics allowed this possibility. Sometimes men took the form of animals, and
animals the form of men.
“Quite possibly,” I said gravely.
“That would explain much,” mused Imnak. “No,” he said, seriously. ‘That cannot be true. I have known Poalu for years. When we were children we would
gather eggs together at the bird cliffs, and hold hands, and, together, fight the coming of sleep.” He looked at me, intently. “Too,” he said, “she is the
daughter of Kadluk.”
“I guess you are right,´ I said. “She is not really a she-sleen.”
“But she acts much like one,” said Imnak.
“Yes,” I said.
“Some girls are like that,” said Imnak.
“Have you ever known anyone like Poalu?” I asked.
“Not exactly,” he admitted.
“Where are you lazy men going?” asked Poalu.
“Home,” said Imnak.
We began to trudge back toward Imnak´s tent. It was some two hundred yards away. Ininak led the snow sleen, drawing the sled on the tundra, and I
walked beside him. Thimble, Thistle and Arlene walked beside the sled.
“Imnak is a lazy fellow!” called Poalu. “Imnak cannot sing in the feasting house! Imnak cannot paddle a kayak! Imnak is a poor hunter!”
“I am getting angry,” said Imnak to me.
“Red hunters do not get angry,” I told him.
“Sometimes red hunters get angry,” said Imnak.
“I did not know that,” I said.
“Yes,” said Imnak.
“Imnak is a lazy fellow! Imnak is a terrible hunter! I am fortunate not to be Imnak´s woman. Pity the poor woman who goes to Imnak´s tent! I am
pleased that I am not going to his tent! I would not go to his tent for anything!”
“I have had enough,” said Imnak suddenly.
“A man does have his pride,” I said.
“It is unfortunate that I am so shy,” said Imnak between gritted teeth.
“Yes,” I said, “that is unfortunate.”
Suddenly Imnak threw back his head and howled at the sky. He made a wild animal noise and, wheeling about, in his fur boots, sped rapidly back toward
the tent of Kadluk.
“Let us continue on,” I said to the girls. We continued on, toward Imnak´s tent, not looking back. The snow sleen padded along behind us, drawing the
sled over the trodden turf.
Behind us we heard cheering.
We did not look back until we came to the threshold of Ininak´s tent.
A large crowd was approaching, yet in such a way as to give Imnak room. Leading the crowd, but seeming half in the midst of it, came Imnak. He was
pulling a bent over, stumbling, screaming, fighting figure behind him, his hand in her hair. She wore feasting clothes.
At the opening to his tent he threw her over his shoulder. Her feet were then off the ground, and she was helpless. She could be carried wherever he
chose, and placed wherever he chose to place her. He carried her inside the tent, and threw her to the furs at his feet.
She looked up at him in fury. She tried to get up, but he pushed her back down.
“You are wearing feasting clothes,” he said. “Do you think you are going to a feast?”
She looked up at him.
“No,” he said, “you are not going to a feast. You do not need to wear feasting clothes.”
“Imnak,” she said.
“Take them off, everything!” he said.
“Imnak,” she cried.
“Now!” he said.
Frightened, she stripped herself, and crouched on the fur in his tent. Nudity is not unusual among the red hunters. But even for them it is a treat to see a
girl as pretty as Poalu stripped naked. I suspected that we would have numerous guests in the house of Imnak.
Imnak then bound her wrists together before her body and pulled her to her feet. “Imnak!” she cried. He pulled her from the tent, stumbling, to the pole
behind the tent, that from which tabuk meat was sometimes hung to dry. A few days ago Arlene had been tied to the pole. Imnak fastened Poalu´s hands
over her head and to the pole.
“Imnak!” she cried. “What are you going to do?”
Imnak, who had returned to the tent after fastening her in place, returned to the pole. He carried a sleen whip.
“Imnak,” she cried, “what are you going to do?”
“Only one can be first,” cried Imnak.
“Imnak!” she cried, struck.
The hunters and the women gathered about cheered Imnak on. He put the leather to her well.
Then she cried out, “It is Imnak who is first in his tent!” She shuddered in the straps that bound her. Then she was struck again. “Imnak is first!” she
cried. “Imnak! Imnak!”
He thrust the whip in his belt.
He went before her, where she could see him. “You are first, Imnak,” she wept. “I am your woman. Your woman wrn obey you. Your woman will do what
you tell her.”
“No, Imnak!” she cried.
“Aiii,” cried a man in the crowd.
He tied bondage strings on her throat.
The men and women in the crowd roared their approval. They stomped on the turf. Some began to sing.
None, I think, had thought to see so rare and delicious a sight as bondage strings on the throat of the arrogant, fiery Poalu.
Her temper and sharp tongue, I think, had made many enemies among the red hunters and their women. There were few there I think who did not relish
seeing her in bondage strings. She might now be beaten with impunity, and must obey free men and women.
“Now,” said Kadluk, her father, “you will not come running home to the tent.”
He rubbed his nose affectionately on the side of her face, patted her on the head and turned away.
“Father!” she cried.
“Do I hear the wind?” he asked, his back to her.
“Father!” she cried.
“Yes,” he said, “I hear the wind.” Then he left.
Indeed, she could not now go running home to the tent of her father. Imnak, if he wished, could slay her for such an act. She wore bondage strings.
The crowd began to dissipate, leaving Imnak and Poalu much alone.
“Why have you done this to me, Imnak?” asked Poalu.
“I wanted to own you,” he said.
“I did not know a man could want a woman so much that he would want to own her,” said Poalu.
“Yes,” said Imnak.
“I did not know you would be strong enough to own me,” she said.
“I am strong enough to own you,” he said.
“Yes,” she said, “it is true. I see in your eyes that it is true.”
He said nothing.
“And you will own me?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said.
“It is a strange feeling, being owned,” she said. Imnak shrugged.
“I have loved you since we were children, Imnak,” she whispered. “I have thought for years that I would someday be your woman. But I did not think,
ever, that I would be your beast.” She looked at him. “Will you truly make me obey you, Imnak?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said.
She smiled. “Your beast is not discontent,” she said.
He touched her softly with his nose about the cheek and throat. It is a thing red hunters do. It is a very gentle thing, like smelling and nuzzling.
Then his hands were hard on her waist.
She looked up at him. ‘The lamp must be lit,” she said, “and the water heated, that I may boil meat for supper.”
“Supper may wait,” he said.
He began to caress her, with tender, powerful caresses, gentle yet strong, possessive, commanding, as one may touch something which one owns and
She began to breathe more swiftly. “Imnak,” she whispered, “you may do what you want with a beast, and a beast must do, fully, what you want.”
“That is known to me,” he said.
“Oh, Imnak!” she cried. “Please! Please!”
Then her hands were untied from the pole, and freed, and she knelt at his feet. At his gesture, she, frightened, pressed her lips to his boots, and then
looked up at him, waiting to be commanded.
He indicated that she should crawl to the tent. She did so, and he walked behind her, the whip now loose in his hand. I saw him thrust it, crossways,
between her teeth and throw her back to the furs. She looked up at him, the whip clenched, in her teeth. This is a device which helps to keep a slave girl
quiet in her ecstasies. She can then do little more than gasp and squirm.
Imnak looked about, and drew shut the flaps of the tent.
I gather that, later, he had, mercifully, removed the whip from her mouth, for I heard from the tent´s interior the delicious ear-shattering scream of a slave
girl yielding to her master.
Thimble and Thistle looked at one another. I saw in their eyes, though doubtless neither would have confessed it to the other, that they wished, each of
them, that it was they, and not the new girl, in the arms of the male. Beasts of Gor, page 211 to 221

Arlene timidly reached forth to touch me. “Master,” she said.
“Do you beg it?” I asked.
“Yes, Master,” she said, “Arlene begs it. Arlene, who is your slave, begs it with all her heart.”
“Very well,” I said.
I took the slave girl in my arms. How delicious it is to do such a thing. How pleased I was to own her!
Thimble looked away. I saw Thistle, who had been the rich girl, Audrey Brewster, lips parted, look at me. Then she bit her lip and, too, looked away. I
smiled to myself. Thistle, I thought, or Audrey, as I sometimes thought of her to myself, using that name now as a slave name, would probably be the first
of the three girls to come to a full slavery. I recalled when she had, once, almost inadvertently, when wearing the yoke Thimble had put on her, when they
had been going out to gather moss and grass, knelt to me. She, I had conjectured, would be the first of the three girls to come to a full slavery, or, as the
Goreans sometimes put it, she would probably be the first to lick her chains.
“Master,” whispered Arlene.
I began to kiss her about the face and throat and shoulders.
She clutched me. It was good to own her. She was beautiful, and intelligent, and hot, and mine. I suppose those who have not owned a woman cannot
understand what a pleasure it is.
“Oh, Master, Master!” she whispered.
“Be quiet, Slave,” I whispered, to her.
“Yes, Master,” she whispered. Beasts of Gor
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 of the Red Hunters