Vagabonds of Gor - Selected Highlights.

Amina and small, curvaceous Rimice were debtor sluts. I had picked them up at the Crooked Tarn. I had also picked up slim, white-skinned, dark-haired Phoebe there, who had muchly stripped herself before me, acceding to her pleas that I accept her, if only as a servant. She needed the collar desperately. As yet I had denied it to her.

The allusion, of course, was to a perhaps somewhat ostentatious custom, that of displaying beautiful slaves, chained naked to one's stirrup. There is perhaps a certain vanity in this, but they are beautiful there, and I suspect, we have all known women whom we would not have minded putting in such a place, women who would quite appropriately occupy such a place, and indeed, would look very well there. One of the pleasures of Gor, incidentally, is treating women in such ways, as they deserve.

Interestingly, on the other hand, captive women are often kept together, that their suspicions, speculations, fears and apprehensions may reinforce one another, bringing them to a state of common ignorance and terror. This is also useful in increasing their sexual arousal and readying them to please.

"But there is another reason I wanted to interrogate you," she said.

"What is that?" I asked.

"I heard from slaves in Ven, serving slaves, collared sluts, who saw you caged, before we came west, that you were an attractive and powerful beast." She laughed. "It seems the very sight of you made them juice."

"They know perhaps what it is to obey a man," I said.

"Perhaps," she laughed.

"And you," I said, "do you juice?"

"Do not be vulgar!" she said.

Wildly she struggled, surging, squirming, against the bonds. The sight of a woman struggling against bonds, as the sight of one in bonds, even in so simple a device as slave bracelets, is sexually stimulatory, of course.

Her ankles were very nice. They were muchly encircled with thongs, by means of which they were then fastened to the pole and crosspiece. Her calves and thighs were lovely, and her lower belly, with its beauties, and her swelling love cradle, nestled between flaring hips, these marvels ascending and narrowing then, in the luscious cubic content of her, to her very graspable waist.

"I am a woman," she said, suddenly, piteously.

I saw that it was true. Through everything, beneath everything, in spite of everything, deeply, essentially, she was a woman.

"Do not regret, for example," said I, "that your lines may not be as sleek as that of the female racing slave. I assure you that while men may bet eagerly upon her they seldom regard her, personally, as the one most worth catching. Too, the woman who is the hardest to catch is not always the one most worth catching. Indeed, some of the most desireable women are the ones most easily caught, for they wish to be caught, and to serve. They may pretend a fuss at first, as they might feel is expected of them, but they are seldom in their collars more than a few Ahn before they are content and joyful."

"Helpless here," she said, "I began to have strange feelings in my belly, and whole body, for you."

"It is the constraints," I said.

"Too," I said, "if even a slave's most secret thoughts harbor the least hint of recalcitrance, such an absurdity being inevitably revealed in subtle bodily clues and such, they might be summarily given to leech plants, cast to pond eels, thrown to sleen, such things."

The odds of being detected, by rencers, by a patrol, by a tarn scout, by a guard at the edge of the delta, by someone, increased considerably with each addition to the party.

"Oh, oh, oh!" she wept, eagerly, helplessly, gratefully.

"Ah!" I said.

"Ohhh," she said, softly, unbelievingly.

I then lay beside her, she now on her stomach. She had been very useful. I had now reached my decision. Slaves are often used for similar purposes.

"I did not know being a woman could be anything like that," she said. "How precious is my sex! How wonderful it is! I love it! Now I never want to be anything else!"

I kissed her again.

"But I have these terrible and frightening thoughts," she said. "Now I want to love and serve men!"

"That would be delicious," said a man. "Many is the time I have wished to take one of those high ladies of Ar, strip her and subject her to suitable female usages."

"What are you thinking of?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said.

"Do you care to speak of it?" I asked.

"I was thinking of my father and my mother," he said.

"Oh?" I said.

"And how my father is held in, inhibited and frustrated, by my mother," he said.

"Keep your head down," I said to Ina.

Immediately she lowered her head again.

The young man continued to regard the captive.

"You are thinking," I said, "of how well your mother would look at your father's feet, branded and in a collar."

"I love her very much," he said, "but it is where she belongs."

"I have no doubt about it," I said.

"Perhaps I shall speak to my father," he said.

"The decision, of course, is his," I said.

"Of course," he said.

"If women were there," I said, "it would certainly be easier for their sons to become men."

The sight of pierced ears tends to be profoundly sexually stimulating to many Gorean men, probably for several reasons, some of them perhaps subconsciously symbolic, having to do with softness, penetration, helplessness, bondage, and such.