Fighting Slave of Gor

I had, in the afternoon, not speaking, watched the girls, including Taphris, sew. They were lovely.

Barus, after the ringing of the bar for the fourteenth Ahn, had looked occasionally out of the window, judging the position of the sun.

How skilled, too, were the girls, even though they had worked only on common girth cloths. How swift and nimble were their fingers, how fine and exact their work. How rude and clumsy would have been the large hands of a man for such work, and how delicate and perfect for it were the small, lovely hands of females.

I had seen Barus again look through the window. It had then been shortly before the fifteenth Ahn.

I had looked again at the girls, their scanty garments and collars, with the dependant chain loops.

How marvelous it is to be on a world where such lovely, delicious creatures may be owned.

Women grow excited when men are to do battle. This is because they know they are the natural spoils of the wars of men. This is obvious in any woman, whether slave or free, but it is particularly and almost pathetically obvious among female slaves, who already know themselves explicitly and legally as properties and spoils. Too, their half-naked bodies, collared and branded, make it difficult for them to conceal their excitement, or other emotions and feelings.