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
Hatred Between Free Women & Slaves on Gor
“Behold,” cried the Lady Sabina, indicating the kneeling girl, “a lascivious slave girl!”
The soldier, the leader of the camp, I gathered, was not pleased at having his work or rest interrupted, but was concerned to be deferential.
“I followed her,” said the Lady Sabina, “and found her here, shameless in the arms of a soldier, touching, kissing!”
“Pity, Mistress,” wept the girl.
“Have I not, Lehna,” inquired the Lady Sabina, sternly, “taught you proper deportment? Have I not instructed you in dignity? Is this how you betray my
“Forgive me, Mistress,” wept the girl.
“You are not a paga slut,” said the Lady Sabina. “You are the slave maid of a free woman.”
“Yes, Mistress,” said the girl.
“Have I not set you always a model of elegance, an example of nobility and self-respect?” asked the Lady Sabina.
“Yes, Mistress,” said the girl.
“When you were twelve, my father bought you from the pens in Ar, and gave you to me.”
“Yes, Mistress,” she said.
“You were treated with great kindness. You were not put in the kitchens. You were not given to tharlarion drivers. You were taken into our own
apartments. You were permitted to sleep in my own chamber, at the foot of my couch. You were trained diligently as a lady's maid.”
“Yes, Mistress,” said the girl.
“Is that not a great honor for a slave slut?”
“Yes, Mistress,” said the girl.
“And yet,” said the Lady Sabina, sadly, “how have I been repaid?”
The girl dared not answer, but kept her head down, trembling.
“I have been repaid with ingratitude,” said the Lady Sabina.
“Oh, no!” cried the girl. “Lehna is grateful! Lehna is grateful to Mistress!”
“Have I not been kind to you?” demanded the Lady Sabina.
“Oh, yes, Mistress,” said the girl.
“And yet I find you like a copper-tarsk rent slave in the arms of a retainer!”
“Forgive your girl, Mistress,” begged the cringing slave.
“Have I often whipped you?” demanded the Lady Sabina.
“No,” cried the girl. “No!”
“Do you think me weak?” inquired the Lady Sabina.
“No, Mistress,” said the girl. “Kind, but not weak!”
“Beg,” said the Lady Sabina.
“I beg to be whipped,” said the girl.
The camp's leader, he with the sword slung over his shoulder, who had come forth from his tent, looked at the soldier in whose arms the girl had been
discovered. He indicated the slave girl with his head. “Strip her and tie her,” he said.
Angrily the man tore away the girl's gown and, with a bit of binding fiber, tied her on her knees, her wrists crossed and bound behind one of the
spokes on the supply wagon.
“You are worthless,” said the Lady Sabina to the bound slave. “You should carry paga in a paga tavern.”
The slave cried out with misery, to be so demeaned. Slavegirl of Gor, page 116

“And do not remove your lips from the cup,” said Thurnus, “until given permission.”
I kept my lips pressed to the cup, my head bent to the side. A Gorean slave girl dares not disobey.
“Thurnus,” said his free companion, a large, heavy woman, in a rep-cloth veil, kneeling to one side. She was squat and heavy. She was not much
There was a kennel nearby, where Thurnus kept his girls. He did not tend his fields alone.
“Be quiet,” said Thurnus, to her, “Woman.”
To one side, against the wall of the hut, there rested, on a small table, a piece of plain, irregularly shaped rock, which Thurnus, years earlier, when first
he had founded the farm, later to be the community, of Tabuk´s Ford, had taken from his own fields. He had, one morning, years ago, bow upon his
back and staff in hand, seed at his thigh, after months of wandering, come to a place which had pleased him. It lay in the basin of the Verl. He had
been driven from his father's village, for his attendance upon a young free woman of the village. Her brother's arms and legs had he broken. The
woman had followed him. She had become his companion. With him, too, had come two young men, and two other women, who saw in him, the
young, raw-boned giant, the makings of a caste leader. Months had they wandered. Then, following Tabuk, in the basin of the Verl, he had come to a
place which had pleased him. There the animals had forded the river. He had not followed them further. He had driven the yellow stake of claimancy
into the dark soil, near the Verl, and had stood there, his weapons at hand, beside the stake, until the sun had reached the zenith and then, slowly,
set. It was then he had reached to his feet and picked up the stone, from his own fields. It now rested in his hut. It was the Home Stone of Thurnus.
“Thurnus,” said his companion.
He paid her no attention. It had been many years ago that she had followed him from the village of her father. It had all been many years ago. In the
fashion of the peasants he kept her. She had grown slack and fat. She could no longer in honor return to the village of her brother.
I kept my lips pressed to Thurnus´s cup. He drew the cup more closely to him. I must needs follow.
I knew he had girls he kept in a kennel.
Thurnus was a strong man, of the sort who must either have many women, or incredibly much from one woman. His companion, I supposed, was tio
longer attractive to him, or, perhaps, in the prides of her freedom, was too remote to be much in his attention. It is easiest for a man to see a woman
who is at his feet, begging to be seen.
“You are a pretty little slave,” said Thurnus to me.
I could not speak, for my lips were pressed to his cup.
“What is her name?” asked Thurnus of my master.
“She does not have a name,” he responded.
“Oh,” said Thurnus. Then he said, “She is a pretty little thing.” I felt his hand on my leg.
Angrily, Melina, who was the free companion of Thurnus of Tabuk´s Ford, rose to her feet and left the hut. Slavegirl of Gor, page 139-140

I worked in my master's fields. I was alone. I wore a peasant's tunic. It was white and sleeveless, of the wool of the Hurt. It came high on my thighs.
Thurnus had shortened it. His companion, Melina, had taken the Ta-Teera from me and burned it. “Scandalous slave! Scandalous garment!” she had
cried. She had then thrown me a peasant tunic, which had fallen to my knees. Thurnus, wanting to see more of my legs, to her anger, had shortened it
with shears. Slavegirl of Gor, page 191

“I will make you wish you wore a longer tunic, Slave!” she had cried. Slavegirl of Gor, page 195

I remember him tying my hands behind my back, and tying my ankles together, and leaving me in a furrow. I then again lost consciousness. That night
Thurnus carried me, bound, over his shoulder, back to the village, and threw me down between the pilings of his hut. “What is wrong?” asked Melina.
“This one is a weakling,” said Thurnus. “I will kill her for you,” said Melina. She drew from her coarse robes a short knife. I rose on one elbow, naked
and bound, helpless in the dirt at her feet. I regarded her with horror. She approached me with the knife. “Please, no, Mistress!” I wept. “Go into the
house, Woman,” said Thurnus, angrily. “You are the weakling, Thurnus,” snapped Melina. She then put away the knife, and stood up.
“It was a mistake to have followed you,” she said.
He looked at her without speaking.
“You could have been a caste leader for a district,” she said. “Instead I am only the companion of a village leader. I could have companioned a district
leader. You stink of the sleen you train and the girls you own.”
There were slaves present, and yet she so spoke.
“You are a weakling and a fool, Thurnus,” she said. “I despise you.”
much longer to give orders in Tabuk´s Ford, Thurnus,” she said. Then she disappeared into the hut. Slavegirl of Gor, page 203

“Are you good for nothing?” had asked Thurnus in exasperation. I had backed away from him, in the sand of the training pit where we had been
working. The sun bad been hot, and the sand was hot. It had not rained in several days. The Sa-Tarna was in danger of drought.
Thurnus took me by the arms and shook me. “You are good for nothing,” he said, angrily.
I had shuddered in his touch.
“What is wrong?” he asked.
I averted my eyes, shamed. “Forgive me, Master,” I said, “but I have not been touched by a man for several days, and I am slave.”
“Ah,” he said.
I turned my eyes to him. I looked up at him. He was very large. “Perhaps Master would care to rape his slave?” I said.
“Does the slave beg slave rape?” he asked.
“Yes, Master!” I said suddenly, clutching him. “Yes! Yes!” I could not control myself.
He flung me back in the sand, thrusting up the tunic over my breasts. I lay at the foot of a slave cage. He seized me, and I reached hack for the bars of
the slave cage, and, holding them, cried out. I twisted and squirmed with the pleasure of his having me. Once I cried out with misery, for I saw Melina
watching, from behind the wooden wall. “It is the Mistress, Master,” I said. He laughed. “I do what I please with my slave girls,” he said. “Let her
watch, should she please to do so. Let her find excellent instruction in the behaviors of a hot slave.” But Melina, angrily, had left. I then again yielded
to the pleasures of him, moaning to the master a slave girl´s gratitude. He had deigned to touch me. When he had done with me I knelt at his feet,
whimpering. I kissed his feet. “Thank you, Master,” I said. Slavegirl of Gor, page 205-206

I penetrated more deeply among the platforms. A girl, kneeling and naked, heavily chained, extended her hands to me. “Buy me, Master!” she begged.
Then I had passed her and she was behind me. I saw two girls standing, back to back, the left wrist of each chained to the right wrist of the other.
“Handsome master, consider me!” cried a girl as I passed her. Most of the girls knelt or sat on the platforms. All were secured in some fashion.
“Scandalous,” said a free woman, to another free woman, who was passing near me.
“Yes,” said the other free woman. Beasts of Gor, page 54

On Gor these girls, with pierced ears, could be only slaves. Yet how feminine was this, that they had had their ears pierced, they, though girls of Earth.
Gorean free women often envied slave girls their pierced ears, though this would seldom be admitted. Beasts of Gor, page 58

I then realized that Lola's garb, so demure and modest for a female slave, so unlike the usual bit of rag knotted at her left hip, must be because of the
presence of the woman slavers in the pens. The House of Andronicus, in which I was slave, presumably did not wish to offend the female visitors. Lola,
too, I imagine, was only too happy to de-emphasize her sexuality before her free sisters. She did not, after all, wish to writhe beneath their whips, the
lashed object of the fury and contempt of free women, jealous perhaps of the helplessness of the slave girl before men, her beauty and her collar.
Fighting slave of Gor, page 84

In the Gorean streets I attracted little attention. It is not that unusual, in such streets, for a man to carry a naked slave, bound and hooded, over his
shoulder. To be sure, such girls are often tied in a slave sack. The children that we passed in the streets, playing at marbles or stone toss, scarcely
glanced up. Two children, however, one boy and one girl, did run and strike the slave. She started, and squirmed, on my shoulder under the blows.
I did not admonish the children. First, it was nothing to me that they had struck her, for she was a slave. Secondly, they were free persons, and free
persons on Gor may do much what they please. It is slaves who must be careful of their behavior, lest free persons find it displeasing. The boy who
had struck her, I believe, had been in a fit of ill temper. I think he had just lost at stone toss.
The girl, on the other hand, I think, had had far different motivations. She had not been involved in the game, but had only been watching it. Yet she
had struck the slave by far the cruellest blow. Already she had learned, as a free woman that female slaves are to be despised and beaten. The
hatred of the free woman on Gor for the female slave is an interesting phenomenon. There are probably many reasons for this.
Among them, however, would seem to be a jealousy of the female slave's desirability and beauty, a resentment of the interest of free men in
imbonded women, and an envy of the slave girl's psychological and biological fulfillments, and emotional freedom and joy. Something of the same
hatred and contempt tends to be felt by masculine women on Earth towards feminine women. Perhaps they hate what they are not, and perhaps
cannot be. The Gorean slave girl, incidentally, can be terrorized by the mere thought that she might be sold to a free woman. I glanced at the girl who
had struck the slave. She was comely. I wondered if she might one day fall slave. If so, she, too, in her turn, would surely learn to fear free women.
Guardsman of Gor, page 197

Such tiny, skimpy garments, so straightforwardly and brazenly revelatory of a woman's beauty, are usually regarded by free women as scandals and
outrages. Blood Brothers of Gor, page 299

"But, on the whole," she said, "how I scorned slaves, how I hated them!"
"Oh?" I asked.
"Do you know the slaves I hated the most, those I most despised?" she asked.
"No," I said.
"The pleasure slaves!" she said. "How I hated them! They were so beautiful and desirable! Sometimes I would take a whip into the streets and
deliberately jostle one, and then make her lie down and whip her across the legs!"
"The same thing, now, could be done to you," I said.
"I know," she said.
"Why did you hate them so?" I asked.
"They were lucky enough to be in a collar, and not me!" she said.
"It seems, then," I said, "that you hated them because you were jealous of them, that, in reality, you envied them."
"Yes," she said, "I was jealous of their beauty and desirability. I envied them their happiness."
"Did you know this as a free woman?" I asked.
"Yes," she said, "but I do not think that I would have freely admitted it."
"Deceit is freedom of free women," I said.
"But it is not a freedom permitted to slave girls, is it, Master?" she asked.
"No," I said.
"Every woman, in her heart," she said, "longs to kneel before a strong man, to be subject to his whip, to be owned, to be mastered, to know that she
has no choice but to give him total love and service." Blood Brothers of Gor, page 334–335

"And I think it is obviously true," she said, "that men desire us, treasure us, and love us, as well as command us, in ways that a free woman can never
understand or know."
"That is a secret between masters and slaves," I smiled.
"Perhaps," she laughed. "But I doubt that it is a well-kept secret or free women would not hate us so!"
"Perhaps," I smiled. Blood Brothers of Gor, page 335-336

"You should not have accosted a free woman," she said. She then removed her gloves and, with them, struck me across the face. Tears sprang to my

"You must also address her as 'Mistress' " she said. I was then struck again.

"You have denied your slavery," she said. "You have dared to compare yourself with me, insulting me by calling to my attention that we are both
females. You have denied that you are of the category of the sensuous slut! You have denied, lyingly, that you are eager to serve men!" She then
struck me four times. "Do you think I cannot see what you are?" she asked. "Do you think I am stupid? Anyone could see that you are a slave! It is
obvious!" Then she lashed me across the face and mouth with her gloves, several times. It was terribly humiliating. I began to cry. "And you did not
kneel!" she cried. She struck me twice again. I hung in the shackles sobbing. I was most afraid that she might call Archon's man. He might, if
requested, I feared, use a whip on me. She then angrily, withdrew from the platform and resumed her journey down the street. Kajira of Gor, page 221

"There will be no free women present," she said. "That will make things easier."

That was a relief for us. The frustration and chilling hatred of free women for their imbonded sisters, and their power to inflict pain on them, tended to
naturally preclude, or inhibit, the performances of slaves. Their presence, too, of course, tended to have an adverse effect on the satisfactions
obtainable by the free men present. If a free woman is present, for example, one is scarcely likely to tear the silk from a laughing squealing slave and
rape her on the table. Female slave commonly wear relatively modest garments and serve unobtrusively and decorously when free women are
present. Except for the perfection of their service, and their garments, one might not even know they were slaves, unless perhaps, one might not even
know they were slaves, unless perhaps, of course, one looked into their eyes, or touched them. Kajira of Gor, page 279

“Then only a slave can be slave beautiful?” she asked.
“I would not wish to make it a matter of meanings,” I said, “but, empirically, it does seem to be pretty much a matter of the condition, a function of its
fulfillments, and such.”
“Free women are more beautiful than slaves,” she said.
“That is false,” I said. “Furthermore, every woman, in her heart, knows it is false. Any beauty a free woman has, for example, is enhanced a
thousandfold when she becomes a slave.”
“I hate slaves!” she said.
“That is because you are not one of them,” I said. “You envy them.” Players of Gor, page 92

"It is a freewoman," whispered Feiqa, kneeling on the blankets.

"Cover your nakedness," I said. Feiqa pulled her tiny coarse tunic about herself. Mercenaries of Gor, page 16

"She is collared!" cried the woman, suddenly, looking at Feiqa.


The free woman looke at Feiqa, aghast.

"Belly," I said to Feiqa.

Immediately Feiqa, trembling, went to her belly on the stained, sooted stones near the fire.

"I will not have a slave in my house!" said the free woman.

Feiqa trembled.

"I know your sort!" cried the free woman. "I see them sometimes with the wagons, sleek, chained and well fed, while free women starve!"

"It is natural that such women be cared for," I said. "They are salable animals, properties. They represent a form of wealth. It is as natural to look
after them as it is to look after tharlarion or tarsks."

"You will no stay in my house!" cried the free woman to Feiqa. "I will not keep livestock in my house!"

Feiqa clenched her small fists beside her head. I could see she did nor care to hear this sort of thing. In Samnium she had been a rich woman, of a
family well known on its Street of Coins. Doubtless many times she would have held herself a thousand times superior to the poor, peasant woman,
coming in from the villages, in their bleached woollen robes, bringing their sacks and baskets of grain to the city's markets. Her clenched fists indicated
that perhaps she did not yet fully understand that all that was now behind her.

"Animal!" screamed the free woman.

Feiqa looked up angrily, tears in her eyes, and lifted herself an inch or two from the floor on the palms of her hands. "I was once as free as you!" she

"OH!" cried Feiqa, suddenly, sobbing, recoiling from my kick, and then "Aii!" she cried, in sharp pain as my hand in her hair, she was jerked up to a
kneeling position.

"But no more!" I said, I was furious. I could not believe her insolence.

"No," Master," she wept, "no more!"

I then, with the back of my hand, and then its palm, first one, and them the other, back and forth, to and fro, again and again, lashed her head from
side to side. Them I flung her on her belly before the free woman. There was blood on my hand and about her mouth and lips.

"Forgive me!' she begged the free woman.  "Forgive me!"

"Adress her as 'Mistress'" I said. It is customary for Gorean slaves to address free woman as "Mistress" and free men as "Master."

"I beg your forgiveness, Mistress!" wept the girl. "Forgive me, please, I beg it of you!"

"She is new to the collar," I apologized to the free woman. "I think that perhaps even now she does not yet fully understand its import. Yet I think that
perhaps she understands its import. Yet I think that perhaps she understands something more ot its meaning now than she did a few moments. Shall
I kill her?"

Hearing this question Feiqa cried out in fear and shuddered incontrollably on her belly before the free woman. She then clutched at her ankles and,
putting down her head, began to cover her feet with desperate ,placatory kisses. "Please forgive this animal!" wept Feiqa. "The animal begs  you
forgiveness! Please, Mistress! Please, gracious, beautiful noble Mistress! Forgive Feiqa, please forgive Feiqa, who is only a slave!" I looked down at
Feiqa. I think she now understood her collar better than before.  I had, for her insolence and unconscionable behaviour, literally placed her life in the
hands of the free woman. She now understood this sort of thing could be done. Too, she would now understand even more keenly how her life was
completely and totally,, absolutely, at the mercy of a Master.  It this came home to her, I think, fully, perhaps for the first time, what it could be to be a
Gorean slave.

"Are you sorry for what you have done?" asked the free woman.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, Mistress!" wept Feiqa, her head down, doing obeisance to one who was a thousand times, nay, infinitely, her superior, the
free woman of the peasants. Mercenaries of Gor, page 19 to 21

One of the women did come up beside the wagon with a switch and struck Feiqa in fury three times. Feiqa on her rope, moving, shrank small before
her, trying to cover her face and body. There is love lost between  free women and slaves, particularly in these times.

"Oh!" cried Feiqa, suddenly stung by a stone, hurled by another woman. She then walked weeping, almost pressed against the side of the wagon.
She could not even think of daring to object to such treatment, of course. In the hut of the free woman, last night, she had learned, unconditionally,
that she was a slave. I wondered if the former rich young woman of Samnium had herself, in bygone days, accorded slave similar treatment, of course.
I supposed so. It is not uncommon on the part of free women. Now, of course, as a slave herself, she would understand clearly what it was to be the
one who is subjectable to such treatment. Perhaps free women would treat slaves somewhat differently if they understood that one day it might be
they themselves whom might find in the collar. In these attacks, of course, Feiqa was in no danger of being seriously injured, or disfigured or maimed.
Accordingly, I did not take any official notice of them. Mercenaries of Gor, page 29

"Clumsy slave!" cried Boabissia, angrily. Twice then, angrily, she struck the new girl with the sides of her small fists. The new girl was, by the soldier in
whose custody she was, thrust rudely ti the pavement before Boabissia, his hand in her hair, forcing her head down to Boabissia's sandals. "Beg
forgiveness!" he said.

"Forgive me!" Forgive me!" wept the new girl.

" 'Forgive me,' what?" asked the soldier, tightening his grip in her hair.

"Forgive me, Mistress!" wept the girl, her head down, her back bent forward, her small hands twisting helplessly in the cords that held them behind
her back.

"Clumsy slave!" scolded Boabissia.


The soldier drew up her head and bent her backwards, before Boabissia. "Shall I kill her for you?" he asked. I saw the girl had a number, like the
others, written on the upper portion of her left breast. I gathered that he had been sent to pick her up, and to mark her with that number. It had to do
with records.

"No," said Boabissia. "That will not be necessary." Mercenaries of Gor, page 134

Boabissia drew back the whip. How she hated the female slave. It is sometimes hard to understand the hatred of the free female for her imbonded
sister. It has to do, I suppose with the venomous jealousy of a woman who has taken an unhappy path, a road commended to her by many but one
which she has discovered leads only to her ultimate frustration, misery and lack of fulfillment, No woman is truly happy until she occupies her place in
the order of nature. Mercenaries of Gor, page 219

I then heard it startling me, too, and frightening me, too, and even more than before, a stick beating savagely on the side of the wagon. I heard, too,
the shrill screaming of a woman's voice. It had a very ugly sound. I could not make out all she was saying but its import was surely uncomplimentary.
Among other things she called us "She-sleen" and "she-urts." I did not know what a sleen might be, but I did know what an urt was. Dancer of Gor,
page 81

Yet even we, I am sure, sensed the terrible, frightening hostility, the hysteria, the fury, of the woman outside. I am sure none of us would have cared
to meet her, or find ourselves within the range of her wrath. Teibar, I thought to myself, must, of course, have known there were such women on this
place. Dancer of Gor, page 82

I was afraid, remembering the woman who had beaten on the wagon. I thought that probably I, and women like me, would have much to fear from
such women. I did not think she was, really, as I might have hoped, an isolated aberration. Who could protect me then froe such as she, only men,
surely. She, too, thus, in her way, regardless of her intentions, would be putting me all the more at the mercy of my masters, men. I feared her, and
such as she. How shrill and ugly she had sounded! I did not know, of course, but I suspected she might have been coarse-featured, or homely. She
had even sounded ugly. I was pretty. That made me even more afraid of her, and her kind. I thought they might resent me, and hate me, for being
pretty. Too, I was apparently a type of woman, short, with shapely legs, and nicely breasted, which men on this world often found attractive. That,
too, might be held against me. Such things, of course, are not that unusual. Dancer of Gor, page 87

For some reason free women hate female slaves. They are often quite cruel even to those whom they themselves own. I am not certain of the
explanation of this seemingly unreasoning, inexplicable hatred. Perhaps they hate the slave for her beauty, for her joy, her truth, her perfections, her
desirability, her happiness. At the root of their hatred, perhaps, lies their own unhappiness and lack of fulfillment, their envy of the slave, joyfully in her
rightful place in nature. In any event, this attack on the part of the free women, which happily had been only verbal, as they often are not, and the
abused slaves in any event dare not protest or object, as they are at the mercy of free persons, was in its way a profound compliment. So beautiful
and exciting was the girl that the woman had naturally assumed she was that most marvelous, helpless, lovely and degraded of objects, the female
slave. Players of Gor, page 197-198

“Is that how you kneel before a free woman?” she asked.

“Forgive me, Mistress! I wept. “The guards were about!”

“They are not about now,” she said, “and even if they were, it is I who am Mistress here, not they.”

“Forgive me, Mistress!” I begged.

“You will kneel before me demurely,” she said.

“Yes, Mistress,” I said. You can now well imagine how modestly and humbly, and demurely, I then knelt before her.” Players of Gor, page 361

It is not unusual for a slave girl to address even a veiled free woman as 'beautiful Mistress," incidentally. It is a way of trying to mollify and flatter
them. Witness of Gor, page 352

In the wars between free women and slave girls woe to the slave girl who is a serving slave of the free woman! On such a woman the free woman
may to her heart's content indulge her vanity, her arrogance, and her pettiness, and may inflict on her her animosity, and indeed her hatred, and her
frustration, ventilating these things abundantly and richly, and with impunity, upon the unfortunate, innocent one who is taken as standing proxy for
her kind, kind of much greater interest and attractiveness to men, the female slave. The serving slave of a free woman is often lashed mercilessly if
she so much as looks at a man. Some claim that the keeping of pretty serving slaves by free women is to guard against their own abduction. Witness
of Gor, page 409

To the Gorean free woman the joys of the slave girl, though they may be despised and disparaged, are at least culturally not unknown, and are the
envy of such free women. Rogue of Gor, page 208

One additional thing I had noted about the forces ahead of me. There had been no slave wagons in the lines, nor, chained in throat coffle, trudging in
the dust behind the supply wagons, any slave girls. That I took to be the doing, and a tribute to the power, of the Lady Mira of Venna. As a free
woman she doubtless hated slave girls, the lascivious, shameless sluts who drove men wild with such desire for them. Too, doubtless it pleased her
vanity to be the only woman among so many men. I had seen her features, concealed by only a wisp silk. I wondered what she might look like in
dancing silk and a steel collar, perhaps kneeling before me, the shadow of my whip falling across her body. I thought then she might not seem so
proud, not as a humbled, owned slave. The Kurii, I granted them, almost always chose female agents of incredible beauty. This is so, I gather, that
when they have served their serious purposes, there is always something else that may be done with them. Savages of Gor, page 91, 92