Captive of Gor

I had always had my way before, with both women and men. I could get extensions for my term papers. I could get a new fur wrap, when I wished. When I tired of one auto I would have another. I could always petition for what I wished, or wheedle for it, or look sad, or pout. I would always get what I wished.

Here I did not have my way.

Here I would not be permitted to shirk. The switch would see to that. If there were those here who might wheedle, or have their way, it would be those more beautiful, more pleasing than I. I would be expected, I realised, to my fury, for the first time, to do my share.

| would make my master suffer, as only a woman can make a man suffer. I would humble him, and, using his needs, would bring him to his knees before me, to beg for my pleasures. I would wring from his weakness whatever I might wish to please my will!

I would conquer!

Men are beasts!

I hated them!

"Buy me, Master," I had said to Soron, the Slaver of Ar.

"No," he had said.

"I know you are of the world which you call Earth," he said.

I regarded him, dumbfounded.

"The women of Earth," he said, "are worthy only to be the slaves of the men of Gor."

His hands were on my arms. I looked up at him, in terror.

"You are my slave," he said.

I was speechless.

Suddenly he threw me from him, violently. I was hurled stumbling and falling to the rugs. I looked up at him from the rugs, terrified.

"You," he said, "wear on your thigh the brand of a liar. You wear on your thigh the brand of a thief. You wear on your thigh the brand of a traitress!"

"Please!" I wept.

Pierced-ear girl!" he said scornfully.

They then, in the brief green tunics of the slaves of huntsmen, shouldered their burdens and followed their masters through the double gate of the palisade. Their lives would be hard, but I did not think them dismayed, nor unhappy. The huntsman lives a free and open life, as wild and swift, and secret as the beasts he hunts, and his slaves, whom he insists on accompanying him, must, too, learn the ways of the forest, the flowers and the animals, the leaves and wind. I do not know where Raf and Pron may now be, but I know them well served by two wenches, the slave girl, Inge, and the slave girl, Rena, who were well trained in the pens of Ko-ro-ba, and who love them.