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-D-
dagger, Gorean: This is a very common weapon, a simple or ornate handle fitted with either a double or
single-edged blade of sharpened steel. Daggers upon Gor take many forms, depending upon
the needs and whims of their users, and such weapons are the most common form of side-arm
used on the Counter-Earth, brandished by persons of all ages and castes. Commonly
disparaged by professional warriors as a "woman's weapon," it is easily
concealable and fairly simple to use. Gorean daggers can range from four to eight inches
in length, and can be found in every city in various forms. It is worn openly in a
belt-sheath or concealed beneath one's clothing, often strapped to the wrist beneath the
owner's sleeve, tucked into the collar behind the neck, or hidden in a boot. Many
freewomen use this weapon as a personal means of self-defense.
Examples of these weapons can be found in every book of the series.
“. . .at his belt may hang a Turian dagger.” Hunters of Gor, page 45
“At her waist she wore a jeweled scabbard,
protruding from which I saw the ornamented, twisted blade of a Turian dagger;
free women in Torvaldsland commonly carry a knife. . .” Marauders of
Gor, page 156
dancing: any of the sensuous and lascivious dances performed by
slave girls to entertain their masters. The dancing of a slave is a thousand times more
sensuous than that of a free woman because of the incredible meanings involved, the
additional richness which this furnishes, the explosive significance of this
comprehension, that she who dances is owned, and, theoretically, could be owned by you:
"To be sure, many of the dances of female slaves are lovely and sensuous; others, of course, are piteous and orgasmic. In all fairness, though, one must note there is some variation from city to city. The institution of female slavery on Gor is doubtless thousands of years old; accordingly it is
natural that there should be great complexity and refinement in such a delicious art from as slave dance. There are even, it might be mentioned, hate dances and rebellion dances, or need dances, or love and submission dances; even the hate and rebellion dances, of course, conclude, inevitably, with
the ultimate surrender of the girl to her master as a love slave."
Fighting Slave of Gor pages 288-299
dance, bead: a slave dance
I then gave my attention to the dancer, a sweetly hipped black girl in yellow beads.
She was skillful and, I suspected, from the use of the hands and beads, had been trained in
Landa, a merchant island north of Anango.
Certain figures are formed with the hands and beads which have symbolic meaning, much of which was lost upon me, as I was not familiar with the conventions involved.
Some, however, I had seen before, and had been explained to me.
One was that of the free woman, another of the whip, another of the yielding, collared slave. Another was that of the thieving slave girl, and another that of the girl summoned, terrified, before the master.
Each of these, with the music and followed by its dance expression, was very well done. Women are beautiful and they make fantastic dancers.
One of the figures done was that of a girl, a slave, who encounters one who is afflicted with plague. She, a slave, knows that if she should contract the disease she would, in all probability, be summarily slain. She dances her terror at this.
This was followed by the figure of obedience, and that by the figure of joy.
Explorers of Gor, page. 133
dance, of beauty: a slave dance
The girl wore Gorean dancing silk. It hung low upon her bared hips, and
fell to her ankles. It was scarlet, diaphanous. A front corner of the silk was taken
behind her and thrust, loose and draped, into the rolled silk knotted about her hips; a
back corner of the silk was drawn before her and thrust loosely, draped, into the rolled
silk at her right hip. Low on her hips she wore a belt of small denomination, threaded,
overlapping golden coins. A veil concealed her much from us, it thrust into the strap of
the coined halter at her left shoulder, and into the coined belt at her right hip. On her
arms she wore numerous armlets and bracelets. On the thumb and first finger of both her
left and right hand were golden finger cymbals. On her throat was a collar... He clapped
his hands. Immediately the girl stood beautifully, alert, before us, her arms high, wrists
outward. The musicians, to one side, stirred, readying themselves. Their leader was a
czehar player....
He looked at the girl. He clapped his hands, sharply. There was a clear note of the finger
cymbals, sharp, delicate, bright, and the slave girl danced before us. I regarded the
coins threaded, overlapping, on her belt and halter. They took the firelight beautifully.
They glinted, but were of small worth. One dresses such a woman in cheap coins; she is
slave. Her hand moved to the veil at her right hip. Her head was turned away, as though
unwilling and reluctant, yet knowing she must obey...
The dancer was now moving slowly to the music... I turned to watch the dancer. She danced
well. At the moment she writhed upon the "slave pole," it fixing her in place.
There is no actual pole, of course, but sometimes it is difficult to believe there is not.
The girl imagines that a pole, slender, supple, swaying, transfixes her body, holding her
helplessly. About this imaginary pole, it constituting a hypothetical center of gravity,
she moves, undulating, swaying, sometimes yielding to it in ecstasy, sometimes fighting
it, it always holding her in perfect place, its captive. The control achieved by the use
of the "slave pole" is remarkable.
An incredible, voluptuous tension is almost immediately generated, visible in the dancer's
body, and kinetically felt by those who watch. I heard men at the table cry out with
pleasure. The dancer's hands were at her thighs. She regarded them, angrily, and still she
moved. Her shoulder lifted and fell; her hands touched her breasts and shoulder; her head
was back, and then again she glared at the men, angrily. Her arms were high, very high.
Her hips moved, swaying. Then, the music suddenly silent, she was absolutely still. Her
left hand was at her thigh; her right high above her head; her eyes were on her hip;
frozen into a hip sway; then there was again a bright, clear flash of finger cymbals, and
the music began again, and again she moved, helpless on the pole. Men threw coins at her
feet....
The dancer moaned, crying out, as though in agony. Still she remained impaled upon the
slave pole, its prisoner... The hips of the dancer now moved, seemingly in isolation from
the rest of her body, though her wrists and hands, ever so slightly, moved to the music...
Samos, with a snap of his fingers, freed the dancer from the slave pole. She moved,
turning, toward us. Before us, loosening her veil at the right hip, she danced. Then she
took it from her left shoulder, where it had been tucked beneath the strap of her halter.
With the veil loose, covering her, holding it in her hands, she danced before us. then she
regarded us, dark eyed, over the veil; it turned about her body, then,.. she wafted the
silk about her, immersing her in its gossamer softness. I saw the parted lips, the eyes
wide with horror, of the kneeling, harnessed girl, through the light, yellow veil; then
the dancer had drawn it away from her, and, turning, was again in the center of the
floor....
The dancer whirled near us, then enveloped me in her veil. Within the secrecy of the veil,
binding us together, she moved her body slowly before me, lips parted, moaning... I slowly
removed her veil from her, then threw it aside. Then with my right hand, the Tuchuk quiva
in it, while still holding her with my left, as she continued to move to the music, I,
behind her back, cut the halter she wore from her. I then thrust her from me, before the
tables, that she might better please the guests of Samos, first slaver of Port
Kar. She
looked at me reproachfully, but, seeing my eyes, turned frightened to the men, hands over
her head, to please them. Never in all this, of course, had she lost the music in her
body. The men cried out, pleased with her beauty... All eyes were on the dark-haired
dancer, the skirt of diaphanous scarlet dancing silk low upon her hips.
Her hands moved as though she might be, starved with desire, picking flowers from a wall
in a garden. One saw almost the vines from which she plucked them, and how she held them
to her lips, and, at times, seemed to press herself against the wall which confined her.
Then she turned and, as though alone, danced her need before the men... I idly observed
the dancer. Her eyes were on me. It seemed, in her hands, she held ripe fruits for me,
lush larma, fresh picked. Her wrists were close together, as though confined by the links
of slave bracelets.
She touched the imaginary larma to her body, caressing her swaying beauty with it, and
then, eyes piteous, held her hands forth, as though begging me to accept the lush fruit.
Men at the table clapped their hands on the wood, and looked at me. Others smote their
left shoulders. I smiled. On Gor, the female slave, desiring her master, yet sometimes
fearing to speak to him, frightened that she may be struck, has recourse upon occasion to
certain devices, the meaning of which is generally established and culturally well
understood...to kneel before the master and put her head down and lift her arms, offering
him fruit, usually a larma, or a yellow Gorean peach, ripe and fresh.
These devices, incidentally, may be used even by a slave girl who hates her master but
whose body, trained to love, cannot endure the absence of the masculine caress. Such
girls, even with hatred, may offer the larma, furious with themselves, yet helpless, the
captive of their slave needs, forced to begin, their knees for the touch of a harsh master,
who revels in the sport of their plight. They are slaves. The girl now knelt before me,
her body obedient still trembling, throbbing, to the melodious, sensual command of the
music. I looked into the cupped hands, held toward me. They might have been linked in
slave bracelets. They might have held lush larma. I reached across the table and took her
in my arms, and dragged her, turning her, and threw her on her back on the table before
me.
I lifted her to me, and thrust my lips to hers, crushing her slave lips beneath mine. Her
eyes shone. I held her from me. She lifted her lips to mine. I did not permit her to touch
me. I jerked her to her feet and, half turning her, ripping her silk from her, hurled her
to the map floor, where she half lay, half crouched, one leg beneath her, looking at me,
stripped save for her collar, the brand, the armlets, bells, the anklets, with fury.
"Please us more," I told her. Her eyes blazed. "And do not rise from the
floor, Slave," I told her. The music, which had stopped, began again. She turned
furiously, yet gracefully, extending a leg, touching an ankle, moving her hands up her
leg, looking at me over her shoulder, and then rolled, and writhed, as though beneath the
lash of master....
The dancer now lay on her back and the music was visible in her breathing, and in small
movements of her head, and hands. Her hands were small and lovely. She lay on the map
floor, her head turned toward us. She was covered with sweat. I snapped my fingers and her
legs turned under her, and she was kneeling, head back, dark hair on the tiles. Her hands
moved, delicate, lovely.
Slowly, if permitted, she would rise to an erect kneeling position; her hands, as she
lifted herself, extended toward us. Four times said I "No," each time my command
forcing her head back, her body bent, to the floor, and each time, again, to the music,
she lifted her body. The fifth time I let her rise to an erect kneeling position. The last
portion of her body to rise was her beautiful head. The collar was at her throat. Her dark
eyes, smoldering, vulnerable, reproachful, regarded me. Still did she move to the music,
which had not yet released her. With a gesture I permitted her to rise to her feet.
"Dance your body, Slave," I told her, "to the guest of Samos." Angrily
the girl, man by man, slowly, meaningfully, danced her beauty to each guest. They struck
the tables, and cried out. More than one reached to clutch her but each time, swiftly, she
moved back... The dancer, now behind us, continued to move before the low tables. The eyes
of the men gleamed. Before each man, for moments seemingly his alone, she danced her
beauty... The dancer turned from the tables and, hands high over her head, approached me.
She swayed to the music before me. "You commanded me to dance my beauty for the
guests of Samos," said she, "Master. You, too, are such a guest." I looked
upon her, narrow lidded, as she strove to please me. Then she moaned and turned away, and,
as the music swirled to its maddened, frenzied climax, she spun, whirling, in a jangle of
bells and clashing barbaric ornaments before the guests of Samos. then, as the music
suddenly stopped, she fell to the floor, helpless, vulnerable, a female slave.
Her body, under the torch light, shone with a sheen of sweat. She gasped for breath; her
body was beautiful, her breasts lifting and falling, as she drank deeply of the air. Her
lips were parted. Now that her dance was finished she could scarcely move.
We had not been gentle with her. She looked up at me, and lifted her hand. It was at my
feet she lay. Tribesmen of Gor, page 8
dance, belt : a slave dance
I observed Phyllis Robertson performing the belt dance, on love furs
spread between the tables, under the eyes of the Warriors of Cernus and the members of his
staff. Beside me Ho-Tu was shoveling porridge into his mouth with a horn spoon. The music
was wild, a melody of the delta of the Vosk.
The belt dance is a dance developed and made famous by Port Kar dancing girls.
Cernus, as
usual, was engaged in a game with Caprus, and had eyes only for the board... The belt
dance is performed with a Warrior. She now writhed on the furs at his feet, moving as
though being struck with a whip. A white silken cord had been knotted about her waist; in
this cord was thrust a narrow rectangle of white silk, perhaps about two feet long....
Phyllis Robertson now lay on her back, and then her side, and then turned and rolled,
drawing up her legs, putting her hands before her face, as though fending blows, her face
a mask of pain, of fear.
The music became more wild. The dance receives its name from the fact that the girl's head
is not suppose to rise above the Warrior's belt, but only purists concern themselves with
such niceties; wherever the dance is performed, however, it is imperative that the girl
never rise to her feet. The music now became a moan of surrender, and the girl was on her
knees, her head down, her hands on the ankle of the Warrior, his sandal lost in the
unbound darkness of her hair, her lips to his foot...
In the next phases of the dance the girl knows herself the Warrior's, and endeavors to
please him, but he is difficult to move, and her efforts, with the music, become ever more
frenzied and desperate... The belt dance was now moving to its climax and I turned to
watch Phyllis Robertson... Under the torch light Phyllis Robertson was now on her knees,
the Warrior at her side, holding her behind the small of the back. Her head went farther
back, as her hands moved on the arms of the Warrior, as though once to press him away, and
then again to draw him closer, and her head then touched the furs, her body a cruel,
helpless bow in his hands, and then, her head down, it seemed she struggled and her body
straightened itself until she lay, save for her head and heels, on his hands clasped
behind her back, her arms extended over her head to the fur behind her.
At this point, with a clash of cymbals, both dancers remained immobile. Then, after this
instant of silence under the torches, the music struck the final note, with a mighty and
jarring clash of cymbals, and the Warrior had lowered her to the furs and her lips, arms
about his neck, sought his with eagerness.
Then, both dancers broke apart and the male stepped back, and Phyllis now stood, alone on
the furs, sweating, breathing deeply, head down. Assassin of Gor, page
185
dance, chain
: a slave
dance
The figure of the woman, swathed in black, heavily veiled, descended the
steps of the slave wagon. Once at the foot of the stairs she stopped and stood for a long
moment. Then the musicians began, the hand drums first, a rhythm of heartbeat and flight.
To the music, beautifully, it seemed the frightened figure ran first here and then there,
occasionally avoiding imaginary objects or throwing up her arms, ran as though through the
crowds of a burning city alone, yet somehow suggesting the presence about her of hunted
others. Now, in the background, scarcely to be seen, was the figure of a warrior in
scarlet cape. He, too, in his way, though hardly seeming to move, approached, and it
seemed that wherever the girl might flee there was found the warrior. And then at last his
hand was upon her shoulder and she threw back her head and lifted her hands and it seemed
her entire body was wretchedness and despair.
He turned the figure to him and, with both hands, brushed away hood and veil. There was a
cry of delight from the crowd. The girl's face was fixed in the dancer's stylized moan of
terror, but she was beautiful. I had seen her before, of course, as had Kamchak, but it
was startling still to see her thus in the firelight her hair was long and silken black,
her eyes dark, the color of her skin tannest. She seemed to plead with the warrior but he
did not move. She seemed to writhe in misery and try to escape his grip but she did not.
Then he removed his hands from her shoulders and, as the crowd cried out, she sank in
abject misery at his feet and performed the ceremony of submission, kneeling, lowering the
head and lifting and extending the arms, wrists crossed. The warrior then turned from her
and held out one hand. Someone from the darkness threw him, coiled, the chain and collar.
He gestured for the woman to rise and she did so and stood before him, head lowered. He
pushed up her head and then, with a click that could be heard throughout the enclosure,
closed the collar-a Turian collar about her throat. The chain to which the collar was
attached was a good deal longer than that of the Sirik, containing perhaps twenty feet of
length. Then, to the music, the girl seemed to twist and turn and move away from him, as
he played out the chain, until she stood wretched some twenty feet from him at the chain's
length.
She did not move then for a moment, but stood crouched down, her hands on the chain. I saw
that Aphris and Elizabeth were watching fascinated. Kamchak, too, would not take his eyes
from the woman. The music had stopped.
Then with a suddenness that almost made me jump and the crowd cry out with delight the
music began again but this time as a barbaric cry of rebellion and rage and the wench from
Port Kar was suddenly a chained she-larl biting and tearing at the chain and she had cast
her black robes from her and stood savage revealed in diaphanous, swirling yellow Pleasure
Silk. There was now a frenzy and hatred in the dance, a fury even to the baring of teeth
and snarling. She turned within the collar, as the Turian collar is designed to permit.
She circled the warrior like a captive moon to his imprisoning scarlet sun, always at the
length of the chain. Then he would take up a fist of chain, drawing her each time inches
closer. At times he would permit her to draw back again, but never to the full length of
the chain, and each time he permitted her to withdraw, it was less than the last.
The dance consists of several phases, depending on the general orbit allowed the girl by
the chain. Certain of these phases are very slow, in which there is almost no movement,
save perhaps the turning of a head or the movement of a hand; others are defiant and
swift; some are graceful and pleading; each time, as the common thread, she is drawn
closer to the caped warrior. At last his fist was within the Turian collar itself and he
drew the girl, piteous and exhausted, to his lips, subduing her with his kiss, and then
her arms were about his neck and unresisting, obedient, her head to his chest, she was
lifted lightly in his arms and carried from the firelight.
Nomads of Gor, page
159
dance, need : a slave Dance
I turned away and gave my attention to the slave writhing on the tiles
before us. She was performing a need dance, of a type not uncommon among Gorean female
slaves. Such a dance usually proceeds in clearly defined phrases, evident not merely in
the expressions and movements of the girl but in the nature of the accompanying music.
There are usually five phases to such a dance. In the first phase the girl, dancing,
feigns indifference to the presence of men, before whom, as a slave, she must perform.
In the second phase, for she has not yet been raped, her distress and uneasiness, her
restlessness, her disturbance by her sexual urges, must become subtly more manifest. Here
it must be evident that she is beginning to feel her sexuality, and drives, profoundly,
and yet is struggling against them. Toward the end of this phase it must become clear not
only that she has sexual needs, and deep ones, but that she is beginning to fear that she
may not be, simply as she is, of sufficient interest to men to obtain their satisfaction.
Here, need, coupled with anxiety and self doubt, for she has not yet been seized by strong
men, must become clear.
In the third phase of the dance she, in an almost ladylike fashion, acknowledges herself
defeated in her attempt to conceal her sexuality; she then, again in an almost ladylike
fashion, delicately but clearly, with restraint but unmistakably, acknowledges, and
publicly, before masters, that she has sexual needs. Then, with smiles, and gestures,
displaying herself, she makes manifest her readiness for the service of men, her
willingness, and her receptivity. She invited them, so to speak to have her. But she has
not yet been seized by an arm or an ankle, or by her collar, a thumb hooked rudely under
it, or hair, and pulled from the floor. What if she is not sufficiently pleasing? What if
she is not to be fulfilled? What if she must continue to dance, alone, unnoticed.
At this point it becomes clear to her that it is by no means a foregone conclusion that
men will find her of interest, or that they will see fit to satisfy her. She must strive
to be pleasing. If she is not good enough she may be chained, unfulfilled, another night
alone in the kennel. There are always other girls. She must earn her rape. Too, if she
should be insufficiently pleasing consistently it is likely that she will be slain.
Goreans place few impediments in the way of liberation of a slave female's sexuality. In
this phase of the dance, then, shamelessly the woman dances her need and, shamelessly,
begs for her sexual satisfaction. The phase of the dance is sometimes known as the Heat of
the Collared She-Sleen.
The fifth, and final phase, of the dance, is far more dramatic and exciting. In this phase
the girl, overcome by sexual desire and terrified that she may not be found sufficiently
pleasing, clearly manifests, and utterly, that she is a slave female. In this portion of
the dance the girl is seldom on her feet. Rather, sitting, rolling, and changing position,
on her side, her back, her belly, half kneeling, half sitting, kneeling, crawling,
reaching out, bending backwards, lying down, twisting with passion, gesturing to her body,
presenting it to masters for their inspection and interest, whimpering, moaning, crying
out, brazenly presenting herself as a slave, pleading for her rape, she writhes, a
piteous, begging, vulnerable, ready slave, a woman fit for and begging for the touch of a
master, a woman begging to become, at the least touch of her master, a totally submitted
slave.
The fourth phase of the dance, as I have mentioned, is sometimes known as the Heat of the
Collared She-Sleen. This portion of the dance, the fifth portion, is sometimes known as
the Heat of the Slave Girl... The music ended with a swirl of sound and the girl, with a
jangle of bells, lay before the table of Policrates, whimpering, her hand extended. She
lifted her head. I read the unmistakable need in her eyes. She was indeed a slave female.
Rogue of Gor, page 185
dance, pole: a
slave dance
Then, suddenly, the two men with the kaiila quirts struck her across the
back and, before she could do more than cry out, she was, too, pulled to her feet and
forward, on the two tethers. She then stood, held by the tethers, wildly, before the pole.
Cancega pointed to the pole. She looked at him, bewildered. Then the quirts, again, struck
her, and she cried out in pain. Cancega again pointed to the pole. Winyela then put her
head down and took the pole in her small hands, and kissed it, humbly. "Yes,"
said Cancega, encouraging her. "Yes." Again Winyela kissed the pole.
"Yes," said Cancega. Winyela then heard the rattles behind her, giving her
rhythm. These rattles were then joined by the fifing of whistles, shrill and high, formed
from the wing bones of the taloned Herlit. A small drum, too, then began to sound. Its
more accented beats, approached subtly but predictable, instructed the helpless, lovely
dancer as to the placement and timing of the more dramatic of her demonstrations and
motions. "It is the Kaiila," chanted the men.
Winyela danced. There was dust upon her hair and on her body. On her cheeks were the three
bars of greases that marked her as the property of the Kailla. Grease, too, had been
smeared liberally upon her body. No longer was she a shining beauty. She was now only a
filthy slave, an ignoble animal, something of no account, something worthless, obviously,
but nonetheless permitted, in the kindness of the Kaiila, a woman of another people, to
attempt to please the pole. I smiled. Was this not suitable? Was this not appropriate for
her, a slave? Winyela, kissing the pole, and caressing it, and moving about it, and
rubbing her body against it, under the directions of Cancega, and guided sometimes by the
tethers on her neck, continued to dance. I whistled softly to myself. "Ah," said
Cuwignaka. "It is the Kaiila!" chanted the men. "I think the pole will be
pleased," I said. "I think a rock would be pleased," said Cuwignaka.
"I agree," I said. Winyela, by the neck tethers, was pulled against the pole.
She seized it, and writhed against it, and licked at it. "It is the Kaiila!"
chanted the men. "It is the Kaiila!" shouted Cuwignaka.
A transformation seemed suddenly to come over Winyela. This was evinced in her dance.
"She is aroused," said Cuwignaka. "Yes," I said. She began, then,
helplessly, to dance her servitude, her submission, her slavery. The dance, then, came
helplessly from the depths of her. The tethers pulled her back from the pole and she
reached forth for it. She struggled to reach it, writhing. Bit by bit she was permitted to
near it, and then she embraced it. She climbed, then, upon the pole. There her dance, on
her knees, her belly and back, squirming and clutching, continued... Winyela now knelt on
the pole and bent backwards, until her hair fell about the wood, and then she slipped her
legs down about the pole and lay back on it, her hands holding to the pole behind her
head. She reared helplessly on the pole, and writhed upon it, almost as though she might
have been chained to it, and then, she turned about and lay on the pole, on her stomach,
her thighs gripping it, her hands pushing her body up, and away from the pole, and then,
suddenly, moving down about the trunk, bringing her head and shoulder down. Her red hair
hung about the smooth, white wood. Her lips, again and again, pressed down upon it, in
helpless kisses....
Winyela, helplessly, piteously, danced her obeisance to the great pole, and, in this, to
her master, and to men... In her dance, of course, Winyela was understood to be dancing
not only her personal slavery, which she surely was, but, from the point of view of the
Kaiila, in the symbolism of the dance, in the medicine of the dance, that the women of
enemies were fit to be no more than the slaves of the Kaiila. I did not doubt but what the
Fleer and the Yellow Knives, and other peoples, too, might have similar ceremonies, in
which, in one way or another, a similar profession might take place, there being danced or
enacted also by a woman of another group, perhaps even, in those cases, by a maiden of the
Kaiila.
I, myself, saw the symbolism of the dance, and, I think, so, too, did Winyela, in a
pattern far deeper than that of an ethnocentric idiosyncrasy. I saw the symbolism as being
in accord with what is certainly one of the deepest and most pervasive themes of organic
nature, that of dominance and submission. In the dance, as I chose to understand it,
Winyela danced the glory of life and the natural order; in it she danced her submission to
the might of men and the fulfillment of her own femaleness; in it she danced her desire to
be owned, to feel passion, to give of herself, unstintingly, to surrender herself,
rejoicing, to service and love. "It is the Kaiila!" shouted the men. "It is
the Kaiila!" shouted Cuwignaka. Winyela was dragged back, toward the bottom of the
pole on its tripods. There she was knelt down. The two men holding her neck tethers
slipped the rawhide, between their fist and the girl's neck, under their feet, the man on
her left under his right foot, and the man on her right under his left foot.
But already Winyela, of her own accord, breathing deeply from the exertions of her dance,
and trembling, had put her head to the dirt, humbly, before the pole. Then the tension on
the two tethers was increased, the rawhide on her neck being drawn tight under the feet of
her keepers. I do not think Winyela desired to raise her head. But now, of course, she
could not have done so had she wished. It was held in place. I think this is the way she
would have wanted it. This is what she would have chosen, to be owned, to serve, to be
deprived of choice. The men about slapped their thighs and grunted their approval. The
music stopped. The tethers were removed from Wendell's neck. She then, tentatively, lifted
her head. It seemed now she was forgotten. Blood Brothers of Gor, page 39
dance, Sa-eela: one of the most moving, deeply rhythmic and erotic of slave
dances.
The Sa-eelais one of the most moving, deeply rhythmic and erotic of the
slaves dances of Gor. It belongs, generally to the genre of dances commonly known as the
Lure Dances of the Love Starved Slave Girl.
The common theme of the genre, of course, is the attempt on the part of a neglected slave
to call herself to the attention of the master. The Sa-eela , usually performed in the
nude, as though by a low slave, and by a girl freed of all impediments except her collar,
is one of the most powerful of slave dances of Gor. It is done rather differently in
different cities but the variations practiced in the river towns and, generally in the
Vosk basin, are in my opinion, among the finest. There is no standardization for better or
worse, in Gorean slave dance. Not only can the dances differ from city to city, but even
from tavern to tavern, and from girl to girl. This is because each girl, in her own way,
brings the nature of her own body, her own dispositions, her own sensuality and needs, her
own personality, to the dance.. For the woman, slave dance is a uniquely personal and
creative art form. Too, it provides her with a wondrous modality for deeply intimate
self-expression..
The Sa-eela , of course is not the sort of dance which could be performed by a free woman.
Peggy now danced upon her knees, at the end of the table using the table in the dance,
thrusting her belly against it, and touching it with her hands, and her body and lips.
Peggy, then was back from the table, on the tiles, on her back, and sides, and knees, and
then prone, and again supine, and then writhing, as though in frustration and loneliness.
Stands before the Master, hands lifted, their backs together above her head. They observed
the dancer, closely, the striking of her small, clinched fists on the tiles, the
scratching of her fingernails at their smooth surfaces, the turning of a hip, the
flattening of a thigh, the lifting of a knee, the turning of her head, the piteous
scattering of her hair from side to side. She lay on her back, and whimpering, struck down
in misery, stinging the palms of her hands, bruising her small heels.
She might have been in a cell, locked away from men. She then rolled to her stomach, and
rose to her hands and knees, and head down remanded for a moment in that posture. It is at
this moment that the music enters a different melodic phase, one less physical and
frenzied, one almost lyrical in its poignancy. She crawls some feet to her left and lifts
her head. She puts out her small hand. It seems that it there encounters some barrier,
some enclosing, confining wall. She then rises to her feet. Swiftly she hurries about, in
the graceful, frightened haste of the dancer, her hands seeming to trace the location of
the obdurate barriers, those invisible walls which seem to contain her. She then stood and
faced us, and put her head in her hands, bent over and straightened her body, her head and
hair thrown back. "I?" she seemed to ask, looking out, as though some rude
jailer might have come to the gate of her pen.
But there is of course, no one there, and in the performance of the dance, that is clearly
understood. Then, in poignant fantasy, within the pen, she prepares herself for the
Master, seeming to thoughtfully select silks and jewelry, seeming to apply perfume and
cosmetics, seeming to be bedecked in shimmering diaphanous slave splendor. She then
crosses her wrists, and moves them, as though they have been bound. She then extends them
before her as though the strap on them had been drawn taut. It then seems that she, head
high, a bound slave is being led on her tether, from the pen. But, at the gate, of course,
her wrists separate, and her small palms and fingers indicate for us clearly, that she is
still confined. She retreats to the center of the pen, falls to her knees, covers her head
with her hands, and weeps.
The next phase of the music begins at this point. She looks up. There is a sound in the
corridor, beyond the gate. She leaps up, and backs against the wall of her pen. This time,
it seems, truly, there are men there, that they have come for her. She puts her head up;
She turns away; she feigns disdain. Then it seems as she, startled, looks about, on the
floor of the pen, calling to them, lifting her head, holding out her hand piteously to
them. She pleads to be considered. It then seems, as she shrinks back, lifting herself to
the palms of her hands, frightened, that the gate to her pen has been opened. She kneels
swiftly in the position of the pleasure slave. Obviously she fears her rude jailers. Twice
it seems she is struck with a whip. Then she again assumes the position of a pleasure
slave. She nods her head. She understands well what is expected of her. She is to perform
well on the tiles of the feasting hall. "Yes Masters!" it seems she says. But
how little do her jailers, perhaps only common and boorish fellows, understand that this
is precisely what she too, deeply and desperately desires to do.
How long she has waited, in cruel frustration, unfulfilled and lonely, in her cell for
just such a moment, that precious opportunity in which she a mere slave, may be permitted
to display and present herself for consideration of her master. How can they understand
the poignancy, and significance of this moment for her? She is to have an opportunity to
present herself before the master! Who knows if she in such a large house, one with such
cells and jailers, may ever again be given such an opportunity. It then seems that she is
hauled to her feet and that her wrists, tightly and cruelly, are bound behind her back.
Her body and head are then bent far over. Her head twists. It seems a man's hand is in her
hair. Not as a high slave, clothed in jewelry's and shimmering silks, tastefully bound, is
she to be conducted to the site of her performance, some aristocratic banquet; rather,
cruelly bound and nude, she is to be thrown before masters at a drunken feast. She then
with small, hurried steps, bent over, described a wide circle on the tiles.
Then, it seemed, she was thrown to her knees, and then her side, before us. Her hands were
still held as though tightly bound behind her. She looked at us. We were of course, the
"Masters," before whom she was to perform. She rose to her feet. She twisted as
though her hands were being untied. She then flexed her legs and lifted her hands over her
head, as she hand in the beginning, back to back.
The final phases of the Sa-eela then begin. In these phases the girl, in all her
unshielded beauty, and naked except for the collar of slavery, attempts to arouse the
interest of her master. Peggy's body gleamed with sweat. She had small feet, and lovely
high arches. Her body was superb. She had now entered into the display phase of the
Sa-eela . In this portion of the dance the girl calls attention to the various aspects of
her beauty, from the swirling sheen of her cascading hair, to her ankles, from her small
feet to her tiny, fine fingers. The music now, pounding and throbbing, mounted headily
toward the climax of the Sa-eela . In these, the final portions of the Sa-eela , the slave
in effect, puts herself at the mercy of the master. She has already presented before him,
almost in a delectable enumeration, many of the more external and rhythmic aspects of her
beauty. She has displayed herself hitherto before him rather as an object in which,
hopefully, he might take an interest.
A woman may do this, of course from many motives; such as fear or her desire to be
purchased by an affluent master, only one of which might be her authentic, poignant desire
to be found pleasing by him. for her own sake. In such displays there can be, though there
often is not, a subtle psychological distinction, detectable in the behavior, between the
merchandise, so to speak, and the girl who is displaying herself as merchandise. In the
first case, where no true distinction exists, which is the authentic case, the girl in
effect says, "I am for sale. Buy me, and love me!" In the second case, the girl
in effect says, "Here is a fine slave. Are you not interested in her?" In the
second case of course, the Gorean is interested, though the girl may not understand this
clearly, in not only the merchandise but the girl who is displaying the merchandise.
She might truly be terrified if she understood that it was herself he intended to own, and
in fact, was going to own, she the exhibitor of the merchandise as well as she, the
merchandise exhibited. Goreans, as I have mentioned, are interested in owning the whole
woman, in all her sweetness, depth, complexity and individualism. The girl now, in all her
helplessness, in all her desperation in all her sensual splendor, was dancing not aspects
or attributes of her beauty before her master, but was dancing her own passions, her own
needs and desires, her own piteous needful, beautiful, intimate and personal self before
him. There were no restraints, no reservations, no compromises, no divisions or
distinctions.
Her needs were as exposed as her collared body. She danced herself before her master. The
music swirled to its climax and Peggy, turning, flung herself to her back on the tiles. As
the music struck its last, rousing note, she arched her back, and flexed her legs, and
looked back at him, her right arm extended piteously back toward him. Guardsman of Gor, page
260
dance, seduction : a slave dance
At a languid gesture from Ibn Saran, Alyena lifted herself from the
scarlet tiles, gracefully turning from her side to her knees, and then, head back, hair to
the floor, slowly, inch by melodic protesting inch, arms before her body, lifted herself
to a kneeling position, erect, the last bit of her to rise being her head, with a swirl of
her blond, loose hair.
Then, looking to Ibn Saran, suddenly she bent forward, as though impulsively, as though
she could not help herself, and, hands on the tiles, head down, kissed the tiles at his
feet, before his slippers. She looked up at him. I gathered she wanted to be bought by
him. He was her "rich man." He lifted his finger for her to rise. Her right leg
thrust forth, brazenly, and then, from her kneeling position, slowly, hands above her
head, moving, high, she rose swaying to her feet. "May I strip your slave?"
inquired Ibn Saran. "Of course," I said. He nodded to the girl.
To the music she unhooked her slave halter of yellow silk and, as though contemptuously,
discarded it. I saw she was excited to see his interest in her. Only too obviously was she
interested in him making a purchase of her. The churning of milk and the pounding of grain
were not for lovely Alyena. That was for ugly girls and free women. She was too desirable,
too beautiful, to be set to such labors... Alyena, now, slowly, disengaged the dancing
silk from her hips, yet held it, moving it on and about her body, by her hands, taunting
the reclining, languid, heavy lidded Ibn Saran, to whom she knew, at his slightest
gesture, she must bare herself. He regarded her veil work; she was skillful; he was a
connoisseur of slave girls... At a signal from Ibn Saran, Alyena drew the veil about her
body, and around it, and, with one small hand, threw it aside.
She stood boldly before him, arms lifted, head to the side, right leg flexed. The veil,
floating, wafted away, a dozen feet from her, and gently, ever so gently, settled to the
tiles. Then, to the new melodic line, she danced... Alyena now to a swirl of music spun
before us, swept helpless with it, bangles clashing, to its climax. Then she stopped,
marvelously, motionlessly, as the music was silent, her head back, her arms high, her body
covered with sweat, and then, to the last swirl of the barbaric melody, fell to the floor
at the feet of Ibn Saran. I noted the light hair on her forearms. She gasped for breath.
Tribesmen of Gor, page 104
dance, six thongs: a slave dance
"You may dance, Slave," I told her. It was to be the dance of
the six thongs. She slipped the silk from her and knelt before the great table and chair,
between the other tables, dropping her head. She wore five pieces of metal, her collar and
locked rings on her wrists and ankles. Slave bells were attached to the collar and the
rings. She lifted her head, and regarded me. The musicians, to one side, began to play.
Six of my men, each with a length of binding fiber, approached her. She held her arms
down, and a bit to the sides. The ends of six lengths of binding fiber, like slave snares,
were fastened on her, one for each wrist and ankle, and two about her waist; the men,
then, each holding the free end of a length of fiber, stood about her, some six or eight
feet from her, three on a side. She was thus imprisoned among them, each holding a thong
that bound her.... Sandra then, luxuriously, catlike, like a woman awakening, stretched
her arms. There was laughter. It was as though she did not know herself bound. When she
went to draw her arms back to her body there was just the briefest instant in which she
could not do so, and she frowned, looked annoyed, puzzled, and then was permitted to move
as she wished. I laughed. She was superb.
Then, still kneeling, she raised her hand, head back, insolently to her hair, to remove
from it one of the ornate pins, its head carved from the horn of kailiauk, that bound it.
Again a thong, this time that on her right wrist, prohibited, but only for an instant, the
movement, but inches from her hair. She frowned. There was laughter. At last, sometimes
immediately permitted, sometimes not, she had removed the pins from her hair. Her hair was
beautiful, rich, long and black. As she knelt, it fell back to her ankles. Then, with her
hands, she lifted the hair again back over her head, and then, suddenly, her hands, by the
thongs were pulled apart and her hair fell again loose and rich over her body. Now,
angrily, struggling, she fought to lift her hair again but the thongs, holding apart her
hands, did not permit her to do so. She fought them.
The thongs would permit her only to wear her hair loosely. Then, as though in terror and
fury, as though she now first understood herself in the snares of a slave, she leaped to
her feet, fighting, to the music, the thongs. The dancing girls of Port Kar, I told
myself, are the best on all Gor. Dark and golden, shimmering, crying out, stamping, she
danced, her thonged beauty incandescent in the light of the torches and the frenzy of the
slave bells. She turned and twisted and leaped, and sometimes seemed almost free, but was
always, by the dark thongs, held complete prisoner. Sometimes she would rush upon one man
or another, but the others would not permit her to reach him, keeping her always beautiful
female slave snared in her web of thongs. She writhed and cried out, trying to force the
thongs from her body, but could not do so.
At last, bit by bit, as her fear and terror mounted, the men, fist by fist, took up the
slack in the thongs that tethered her, until suddenly, they swiftly bound her hand and
foot and lifted her over their heads, captured female slave, displaying her bound arched
body to the tables. There were cries of pleasure from the tables, and much striking of the
right fist on the left shoulder. She had been truly superb. Then the men carried her
before my table and held her bound before me. "A slave," said one.
"Yes," cried the girl, "slave!" The music finished with a clash. The
applause and cries were wild and loud. I was much pleased.
Raiders of Gor, page 228
dance, tile : dance commonly performed on red tiles; it commonly signifies
the restlessness of a love-starved slave girl: Explorers of Gor, page 14
"I hear from the chain master," said Samos, "that you
have learned the tile dance creditably." The tiny cups and glasses shook on the tray.
"I am pleased," she said, "if Krobus should think so." The tile dance
is commonly performed on red tiles, usually beneath the slave ring of the master's couch.
The girl performs the dance on her back, her stomach and sides. Usually her neck is
chained to the slave ring. The dance signifies the restlessness, the misery, of a love
starved slave girl. It is a premise of the dance that the girl moves and twists, and
squirms, in her need, as if she is completely alone, as if her need is known only to
herself; then, supposedly, the master surprises her, and she attempts to suppress the
helplessness and torment of her needs; then, failing this, surrendering her pride in its
final shred, she writhes openly, piteously, before him, begging him to deign to touch her.
Needless to say, the entire dance is observed by the master, and this, in fact, of course,
is known to both the dancer and her audience, the master.
The tile dance, for simple psychological and behavioral reasons, having to do with the
submission context and the motions of the body, can piteously arouse even a captured, cold
free woman; in the case of a slave, of course, it can make her scream and sob with need.
Explorers of Gor, page 13
dance, whip: a girl dances under the whips of Masters:
A new dancer came forth upon
the floor and began, a tall brute near her with the leather, to perform a whip
dance... ...In the whip dance, though there are various versions of it,
depending on the locality, the girl is almost never struck with the whip,
unless, of course, she does not perform well. When the whip is cracked, however,
the girl will commonly react as though she has been struck. this, on joined with
the music, and her beauty, and the obvious symbolism of her beauty beneath total
male discipline, can be extremely, powerfully erotic. In an elegant, civilized
context, one of beauty and music, it makes clear and bespeaks the raw and
essential primitives of the ancient, genetic, biological sexual relationship of
men and women.... The whip dance continued before us.. The whip dance was now
approaching its climax... I turned my attention to the dancer on the floor. She
lay now on her back, one knee lifted, her arms at her sides, palms down, before
the brute with his whip, who towered over her. Her head, too, was turned to the
side. Then she turned her head to face the brute who tyrannized her. She looked
deeply into his eyes.
Then, delicately, in a graceful gesture, she turned her hands, putting their
backs to the floor, exposing her palms, and the soft flesh of her palms, to him,
indicating her surrender, her submission, her vulnerability and her readiness.
There was applause, the striking of the left shoulder, from the tables. The
brute then crouched beside her and encircled her neck with the coils of his
whip. He drew her to her knees then before him. She looked up at him, her neck
in the whip coils, his. There was more applause. Then the brute looked to
Policrates, who indicated a table. He then pulled the girl to her feet and,
running her over the tiles, and then releasing the coils from her neck, threw
her stumbling into the arms of waiting pirates who, with a cry of pleasure,
sized her and began to work their lusty wills upon her. There was more applause,
and laughter. Rogue of Gor, page 191
dar: holy; priest:
Tarnsman of Gor, page 150
Dar-Kosis - (lit. 'holy disease'): an incurable, wasting disease akin to the
Earth disease of leprosy; also known as the Sacred Affliction . So named because it is
regarded as being holy by the Priest-Kings:
"Suddenly to my horror, I saw the quarry of the larl, It was a human being, moving with surprising alacrity over the rough ground. To my astonishment, I saw it wore the yellow cerements of the sufferer of Dar Kosis, that virulent, incurable, wasting disease of Gor."
Tarnsman of Gor page. 149
"He was now bent and crooked, like a broken blasted shrub in his yellow shroud like
robe. The
hood concealed his face. ...Pointing to its shadowed concealed face it whispered "The Holy
Disease." That was the literal translation of Dar Kosis - the Holy Disease or equivalent the
Sacred Affliction. The disease is named that because it is regarded as being holy to the Priest
Kings, and those who suffer from it are regarded as consecrated to the Priest
Kings.
Accordingly it is regarded as heresy to shed their blood. On the other hand, the Afflicted, as
they are called, have little to fear from their fellow men. Their disease is so highly contagious,
so invariably devastating in its effects, and so feared on the planet that even the boldest of
outlaws gives them a wide berth. Accordingly, the afflicted enjoy a large amount of freedom
of movement on Gor. They are of course, warned to stay away from the habitations of men,
and if they approach too closely, they are sometimes stoned. Oddly enough,
casuistically,
stoning the Afflicted is not regarded as a violation of the Priest Kings supposed injunction
against shedding their blood. As an act of charity, Initiates have arranged at various places
Dar Kosis pits where the Afflicted may voluntarily imprison themselves to be fed with food
hurled downward from the backs of passing tarns. Once in a Dar Kosis pit the Afflicted are
not allowed to depart. ...I was glad that it was night and that the hood of the man was
drawn, for I had no desire to look on what pieces of flesh might still cling to his skull."
Tarnsman of Gor page. 150
"No." said Flaminius, smiling. "No, he took another swallow, I thought to find, he said, an
immunization against Dar Kosis. Dar Kosis is incurable, I said. At one time, he said,
centuries ago men of my Caste claimed age was incurable. Others did not accept this and
continued to work. The result was the Stabilization Serums. Dar Kosis or the Holy Disease or
Sacred Affliction is a virulent wasting disease of Gor. Those afflicted with it commonly
spoken of simply as the afflicted ones may not enter into normal society They
wander the
country side in shroud like yellow rags beating a wooden clapping device to warn men from
their path; some of them volunteer to be placed in Dar Kosis pits several of which are in the
vicinity of Ar, where they are fed and given drink, and are of course isolated; the disease is
extremely contagious. those who contract the disease are regarded by law as dead."
Assassin
of Gor page. 265
( Flaminius speaking to Tarl Cabot of his research on Dar-Kosis ) "I had" he said, "shortly
before the fire developed a strain of urts resistant to the Dar-Kosis organism; a serum
cultured from their blood was injected in other animals, which subsequently we were unable
to infect." Assassin of Gor page. 267
( Kuruus and Flaminius speaking of Dar-Kosis ) "Dar-Kosis" I said "is regarded as an
instrument of Priest Kings, used to smite those who displease them." "Another myth of
Initiates" said Flaminius unpleasantly. "But how do you know that?" I queried. "I do not
care," said Flaminius, "if it is true or not. I am a Physician." Assassin of Gor
page. 266
"I and others worked secretly in the Cylinder of Physicians. We devoted our time, those ahn
in the day in which we could work to study, research and experiment. Unfortunately for
spite and for gold word of our work was brought the High Initiate, by a minor Physician
discharged from our staff for incompetence. The Cylinder of Initiates demanded that the High
Council of the Caste of Physicians put an end to our work, not only that it be discontinued
but that our results to that date be destroyed. The Physicians, I am pleased to say stood with
us. There is little love lost between Physicians and Initiates. Before the next passage hand, he
said. Armed men broke into the Cylinder of Physicians; the floors we worked on were
burned; the Cylinder itself was seriously damaged; our work our records, the animals we
used were all destroyed; several of my staff were slain, others driven away."
Assassin of Gor
page. 267
"I had, he said shortly before the fire developed a strain of urts resistant to the Dar Kosis
organism; a serum cultured from their blood was injected in other animals, which
subsequently we were unable to infect. It was tentative, only a beginning, but I had hoped, I
had hoped very much." Assassin of Gor page. 267
"At the games on the second of En Kara in the Stadium of blades, said he. I saw the High
Initiate Complicius Serenus. So?, I said. He does not know it, said Flaminius nor will he
learn for perhaps a year learn. What?, I asked, That he is dying of Dar-Kosis, he said."
Assassin of Gor page. 268
"Dar-Kosis, I said, is regarded as an instrument of Priest Kings, used to smite those who
displease them. Another myth of Initiates, said Flaminius unpleasantly. But how do you
know that? I queried. I do not care, said Flaminius, if it is true or not. I am a Physician."
Assassin of Gor page. 266
dates: a staple of the diet of the Tahari Tribesmen; they are sold in a
tef (a handful with the 5 fingers closed; a tefa is 6 tefs (a small basket); Five such
baskets constitute a huda. In large compressed bricks, they are used in trade:
"The principal export of the oases are dates, or pressed-date bricks."
Tribesmen
of Gor, page 37
"A veiled woman was hawking dates by the
tefa." (Tribesmen
of Gor, page 46
deck cage: small cages fastened to the deck of a ship to transport slaves
not kept in hold: Explorers of Gor, page 26
deck stones: white, smooth, soft stones used for sanding boards and decks
on ships: Explorers of Gor, page 98
degradation stripe: a 2 inch wide band shaved into the hair of men
captured by Talunas, or Panther girls; it runs from the forehead to the nape of the neck:
Hunters
of Gor, page 137
delka: Of the Gorean alphabet, it corresponds to the Earth letter, D and
is formed as the Earth, 'delta':
On the chest was a bloody triangle, the "Delka." That is the fourth letter of the Gorean alphabet,
and formed identically to the fourth letter of the Greek alphabet, the 'delta', to which letter it
doubtless owes it origin. In Gorean, the delta of a river is referred to as its "Delka." The
reasoning here is the same as in Greek, and, derivatively, in English, namely the resemblance
of a delta region in a cartographical triangle. Magicians of Gor, page 176
dental care:
mentioned in the books
"A filling found in a tooth is usually a sign of an Earth girl. It is not an infallible sign, however, for not all Earth girls have fillings and some dental work is done upon occasion by the caste of physicians on Gorean girls. Cavities are rare in Goreans because of their simple diet and the general absence of cruel emotional stress, with its physiological and chemical consequences, during puberty."
Beasts of Gor page 154-155
"Perhaps, then, you might have seen tiny scarring high on my left arm. It is called a vaccination mark. I smiled. Such marks, and fillings in the teeth, are used by slavers as almost infallible signs of Earth origin."
Rogue of Gor page 207
"Similarly, even should you learn to speak flawlessly such things as the fillings in your teeth and the vaccination marks on your arms will continue to mark you as barbarian."
Savages of Gor page 153
"Less impressive perhaps but even more essential to the operation of the House were its
kitchens, its laundries, commissaries and storerooms; its medical facilities, in which dental care is also provided."
Assassin of Gor page 111
"On a rounded wooden block a naked slave girl knelt, her wrists braceletted behind her. Her head was back. One of the physicians was cleaning her teeth."
Beasts of Gor page 54
"As a child I had had some fillings in the molar area, on the lower left side. They are common in barbarians, said the first man. Yes, said Durbar, But those of the Caste of Physicians can do such things. I have seen them in some Gorean girls. That is true, admitted the first man. These fellows must also know that doubtless such things might be found occasionally in the mouths of some Gorean men. On the other hand, of course, they would not have been likely to have seen them there. They would have seen them, presumably, only in the mouths of girls, slaves. One of the things that a master commonly checks in a female he is considering buying is the number and condition of her teeth."
Kajira of Gor page 258
dice: mentioned in the books, mostly
likely used in games
Dice and cards and game boards
and drinking goblets scattered to the rocky floors of the guard chambers as Whip
Slaves and guardsmen looked up to find at their throats the blades of desperate
and condemned men, now drunk with the taste of freedom and determined to free
their fellows. Outlaw of Gor, page 167
dina: a small, short-stemmed flower indigenous to hillsides; sometimes
called the 'slave flower', it is often used as a design for slave brands; sometimes used
as a slave name:
A small, multiple pedaled flower resembling the rose; sometimes called the slave
flower. "my own brand was the 'dina', the dina is a small, lovely, multiply pedaled
flower, short-stemmed, and blooming in a turf of green leaves, usually on the slopes of
hills, in the northern temperate zones of Gor, in its budding, though in few other ways,
it resembles arose; it is an exotic, alien flower; it is also spoken of, in the north,
where it grows most frequently, as the slave flower" Slave Girl of Gor, page 61
"But, perhaps the dina is spoken of as the slave flower merely because, in the
north, it is, though delicate and beautiful, a reasonably common, unimportant flower; it
is also easily plucked, being defenseless, and can easily be crushed, overwhelmed and, if
one wishes, discarded." Slave Girl of Gor, page 62
"The dina is a small,
rose like flower. It is popularly called the "slave flower." The dina brand, or slave-flower brand, is a common one on Gor"
Renegades of Gor, page 436
disciplining of slave:
who can disciple a slave
"Any free man may
discipline an insolent or errant slave,' I said, `even one who is the least bit
displeasing, even one he might merely feel like disciplining. If she is killed,
or injured, he need only pay compensation to her master, and that only if the
master can be located within a specific amount of time and requests such
compensation.' In virtue of such customs and statutes the perfect discipline
under which Gorean slaves are kept is maintained and guaranteed even when they
are not within the direct purview of their masters or their appointed
agents." Players of Gor, page 235
“You cannot punish me!”
she cried. “You are not my Masters!”
“Any Free Person can punish an errant slave girl,” I said. “Surely you do
not think that her behavior fails to be subject to supervision and correction as
soon as she is out of her Master's sight?” Magician of Gor, Page 225
The discipline of a slave may be attended to by any Free Person, otherwise she
might do much what she wished, provided only her Master did not learn of it. The
legal principle is clear, and has been upheld in several courts, in several
cities, including Ar. Magicians of Gor, Page 122
display chain: slave girls who are sold in groups are put into a chain
which may be fastened taut at either end; the girls are spaced on the chain, so that they
don't crowd together and be more easily displayed; unclothed always:
Usually the tallest girls lead
the slave chain, the height decreasing gradually toward the end of the chain,
where the shortest girl is placed. This was a “common chain,” sometimes
called a “march chain” or “trekking chain”; it was not a “display
chain”; in the “display chain,” or “selling chain,” the arrangement of
the girls may be determined by a variety of considerations, aesthetic and
psychological; for example, blondes may be alternated with brunets, voluptuous
girls with slim, vital girls, aristocratic girls with sweet, peasant wenches,
and so on; sometimes a girl is placed between two who are less beautiful, to
enhance her beauty; sometimes the most beautiful is saved for last on the chain;
sometimes the chain is used as a ranking device, the most beautiful being placed
at its head, the other girls then competing with one another constantly to move
to a new wrist-ring, snap-lock or collar, one higher on the chain Tribesmen of Gor,
page 14
display position:
How kajirae are position to enhance their worth during a slave auction
"The auctioneer did not strike her with his whip. He merely took her arms and lifted them, so that the position chain, attached to each side of the sales collar lay across her upper arms. Then he had her clasp her hands behind the back of her neck, so that the chain, on each side of the collar, was in the crook of her arms, and she was exposed in such a way that she could be properly exhibited.
Explorers of Gor, page 36
display slave: a slave girl whose primary purpose is for the display of
her beauty to reflect the affluence of her master; often chained in coffle with other
display slaves behind the palanquin or other transport of her master: Dancer of Gor,
page 367
dock eel: a black freshwater fish, 4 feet long & weighing 8-10 lbs.;
carnivorous; they inhabit the shallow waters around the dock and wharves of river ports:
When he stood in about a foot of water, among the pilings, near the next wharf,
he struck down madly at his legs with his left hand, striking two dock eels from his
calf." Rogue of Gor, page 154
"The dock eels, black, about four feet long, are tenacious creatures. They had not
relinquished their hold on the flesh in their jaws when they had been forcibly struck away
from the leg, back into the water." Rogue of Gor, pages 154-155
"Below me the water was swarming with eels. The blood from my back, I realized,
running down the blade and dripping into the water, had attracted them." Rogue
of Gor, page 129
"I was only dimly conscious of the wetness of my back. Then something wet and
heavy, slithering; leapt upward out of the water, and splashed back. My leg felt stinging.
It had not been able to fasten its jaws on me. I looked downward. Two more heads,
tapering, menacing, solid, were emerged from the water, looking up at me. Then, streaking
from under the water, suddenly breaking its surface, another body, some four feet in
length, about eight or ten pounds in weight, leapt upward. I knew that the fastening of
those jaws, in a fair bite, could gouge ounces of flesh from a man's body."
Rogue
of Gor, page 130
"Clitus, too, had brought two bottles of
Ka-la-na wine, a string of eels,
…" Raiders of Gor, page 114
Double Knowledge: the two forms of knowledge provided on Gor; the simpler
knowledge is taught to the lower castes, the more esoteric knowledge is taught to the
higher castes: Tarnsman of Gor, page 41
Double Flute: was an instrument of the wood wind family. It had a soft, clear, resonant melody.
There was suddenly near us, startling us, another skirl of notes on a flute, the common double flute.
Magicians of Gor, page 120
drinking vessels: there are various of
items used to serve drinks in.
Ale/Mead
"The Forkbeard himself now, from a wooden keg, poured a great tankard of
ale, which must have been the measure of five gallons...It was the victory
ale." Marauders of Gor, page 82
"I handed the horn to Thyri, who, in her collar, naked, between two of the
benches, knelt at my feet. 'Yes, Jarl,' said she, and ran to fill it, from the
great vat. How marvelously beautiful is a naked, collared woman. 'Your hall,'
said I to the Forkbeard, 'is scarcely what I had expected.' 'Here Jarl,' said
Thyri, again handing me the horn. It was filled with the mead of Torvaldsland,
brewed from fermented, honey, thick and sweet." Marauders of Gor,
page 89
"I held up the large drinking horn of the north. 'There is no way for this
to stand upright' I said to him, puzzled. He threw back his head again and
roared once more with laughter. 'If you cannot drain it' he said, 'give it to
another!' I threw back my head and drained the horn. 'Splendid!' cried the
Forkbeard." Marauders of Gor, page 89
Bera went to the next man, to fill his cup with the mead, from the heavy hot
tankard, gripped with cloth, which she carried." Marauders of Gor,
page 78
Blackwine
"What is that smell?" "Black wine from the mountains of Thentis."
"Bring two bowls....the slave will taste it first." Assassin of
Gor, page 105
"She carried a tray, on which were various spoons and sugars. She knelt,
placing her tray on the table. With a tiny spoon, its tip no more than a tenth
of a hort in diameter, she placed four measures of white sugar, and six of
yellow, in the cup; with two stirring spoons, one for the white sugar, another
for the yellow, she stirred the beverage after each measure. She then held the
cup to the side of her cheek, testing its temperature; Ibn Saran glanced at her;
she, looking at him, timidly kissed the side of the cup and placed it before
him. Then, her head down, she withdrew."
Tribesmen of Gor, page 88
"I lifted the tiny silver cup to my lips and took a drop of the black wine.
It's strength and bitterness are such that it is normally drunk in such a
manner, usually only a drop or a few drops at a time." Guardsman of
Gor, page 247
"I had heard of black wine, but had never had any. It is drunk in Thentis,
but I had never heard of it being much drunk in other Gorean cities. . . Then I
picked up one of the thick, heavy clay bowls. It was extremely strong, and
bitter, but it was hot, and, unmistakably, it was coffee." Assassins of
Gor page 106
Bazi
Tea
"...'Is it ready?' I asked. I looked at the tiny copper kettle on the small
stand. A tiny kaiila-dung fire burned under it. A small, heavy curved glass was
nearby, on a flat box, which would hold some two ounces of the tea. Bazi tea is
drunk in tiny glasses, usually three at a time, carefully measured." , Tribesmen of
Gor, page 139
"Tea is extremely important to the nomads. It is served hot and highly
sugared. It gives strength then, in virtue of the sugar, and cools them, by
making them sweat, as well as stimulating them. It is drunk three small cups at
a time, carefully measured." Tribesmen of Gor, page 38
Kalda
"I had hardly settled myself behind the table when the proprietor had placed
a large, fat pot of steaming Kal-da before me. It almost burned my hands to lift
the pot" Outlaw of Gor page 78
"Other girls now appeared
among the tables, clad only in a camisk and a silver collar, and suddenly,
silently, began to serve the Kal-da which Kron had ordered. Each carried a heavy
pot of the foul, boiling brew and, cup by cup, replenished the cups of the
men." Outlaw of Gor, page 226
Paga
"Fetch paga, woman...you are least among us."....In a few moments she
returned with a bottle of Schendi paga and four cups." Explorers of
Gor, page 158
"Paga, Master?", she asked, kneeling before me, the metal cup held
before her, in her two hands"
Explorers of Gor, page 160
"`Paga!' called the standing man. `Paga!' A blonde girl, nude, with a
string of pearls wound about her steel collar, ran to the table and, from the
bronze vessel, on its strap, about her shoulder, poured paga into the goblet
before the seated man.
"The proprietor, sweating, aproned, was tipping yet another great bottle of
paga in its sling, filling cups, that they might be borne to the drinkers."
Raiders of Gor, page 105
"Paga," called a man. I hurried to him, carrying the large bronze
vessel of paga, on its strap about my shoulder. I knelt and filled his
cup." Slave Girl of Gor, page 293
"I thrust out the silver paga goblet, studded with rubies, and Telima,
standing beside my throne like chair, filled it." Raiders of Gor, page
233
"The beast returned from the cabinet with two glasses and a bottle. 'Is
that not the paga of Ar?' I asked. 'Is it not one of your favorites?' he asked,
'See,' he said, 'It has the seal of the brewer, Temus.' 'That is remarkable,' I
said. 'You are very thoughtful.' 'I have been saving it,' he told me. 'For me?'
I asked. 'of course,' he said. 'I was confident you would get through.' 'I am
honored,' I said. 'I have waited so long to talk to you,' he said. He poured two
glasses of paga, and reclosed the bottle. We lifted the glasses and touched
them, the one to the other. 'To our war,' he said. 'To our war,' I said. We
drank" Beasts of Gor, page 37
"The girls filled their vessels, which, like the hydria, or water vessel,
are high-handled, for dipping, in a large kettle hung simmering over a fire near
the entrance to the enclosure. Warm paga makes one drunk quicker, it is
thought... Some Cosians tend to be fond of hot paga." Vagabonds of Gor,
page 16
"My master extended his cup to me, and I, kneeling, filled it with sul paga.
I pressed my lips to the cup, and handed it to him. My eyes smarted. I almost
felt drunk from the fumes." Slave Girl of Gor, page 134
"At a gesture from the proprietor, the grimy man in the tunic of white and
gold, one of the serving slaves, with a flash of her ankle bells, hurried to the
Assassin and set before Him a bowl, which she trembling filled from the flask
held over her right forearm. then, with a furtive glance at the girl chained at
the side of the room, the serving slave hurried away. Kuurus took the paga bowl
in both hands and put his head down, looking into it. Then somberly, He lifted
it to his lips and drank." Assassins of Gor, page 9
"`Your paga,' said the nude slave girl, who served me, her wrists chained.
`It is warmed as you wished.' I took it from her, not even glancing upon her,
and drained the goblet. . . I liked paga warm. One felt is so much the sooner
that way." Raiders of Gor, page 100
"Another girl ran to him, bearing a cup of paga." Raiders of Gor,
page 102
Vessels for paga: "Many civilians , I believe, do
not know why certain warriors, by habit, request their paga in metal goblets
when dining in public houses." Renegades of Gor, page 77
"......I watched her waiting, to
dip her paga vessel.....Temione had now reached the vat, and was carefully
dipping her narrow, high-handled serving vessel in the simmering paga.....Temione
had now filled her paga vessel. She picked up a goblet from a rack near the vat.
The shelving on the rack was of narrow wooden rods. The goblets are kept upside
down on the rods. In this way, washed, they can drain, and dry. This also
affords them some protection from dust. I watched her carefully wipe the goblet.
Woe to the slave who would dare to serve paga or wine in a dirty
goblet......"Master," she said, kneeling before me. She poured me paga,
filling the goblet she had taken from the rack, from the vessel she
carried." Vagabonds of Gor, pages 17 - 20
"`Wine, Master?' she asked. 'Yes,
Slave,' he said. Then she knelt before him, back on her heels, head down,
lifting the goblet to him, proffering it to the master with both
hands." Slave Girl of Gor, page 405
"One of the men lifted his cup and I hurried to him. I took the cup and
filled it...then I pressed my lips to his cup as I must, as a slave girl, and
handed it to him." Slave Girl of Gor, page 89
"He extended the goblet to me. `Drink,' he said, offering me the cup. I
looked at the rim of the cup. I shook with terror. `A slave girl dares not touch
with her lips the rim of that cup which has been touched with the lips of her
master,' I whispered." Captive of Gor, page 302
"`Paga!' called the standing man. `Paga!' A blonde girl, nude, with a
string of pearls wound about her steel collar, ran to the table and, from the
bronze vessel, on its strap, about her shoulder, poured paga into the goblet
before the seated man. The fellow who stood by the table, scarcely noticing the
girl, placed a tarsk-bit in her mouth, and she fled back to the counter where,
under the eye of a paga attendant, she spit the coin into a copper
bowl." Rogue of Gor, page 77
"I almost fainted. I went to him and, shaking, poured paga into his goblet;
I was terrified that I might spill it; it was not only that I feared, should I
spill the beverage, that I might be beaten for my clumsiness; it was even more
than I wished to appear graceful and beautiful before him; but I shook, and was
awkward; the paga sloshed in the goblet but, as my heart almost stood still, it
did not spill; he looked at me; I was a clumsy girl, and a poor slave; I felt so
small and unworthy before him; I was not only a girl, small and weak before
these mighty men; I was not even a good slave. Trembling, I extended the goblet
to him. He did not take it. I shrank back, confused. I did not know what to do.
I realizes then that I had, in my confusion and distress, forgotten to place my
lips upon the goblet in subservience. I quickly pressed my lips to the goblet,
kissing it. Then, suddenly, as I was to hand it to him, I boldly, again, lifted
the goblet s side to my lips. Holding it in both hands, I kissed it again,
lovingly, delicately, fully, lingering, my eyes closed. I had never kissed a boy
on Earth with the helplessness and passion that I bestowed upon the mere goblet
of my Gorean captor. I belonged to him. I was his. I loved him! I felt the metal
of the cup beneath my full, pressing lips. I opened my eyes. I proffered, tears
in my eyes, the cup of paga to my captor. It was though, with the cup, I was
giving myself to him. Yet I knew I needed not give myself to him, for I was his,
and a slave girl; he could take me whenever he wished me. He took the cup from
my hands, and dismissed me." Slave Girl of Gor, page 68
"In a few moments she returned
through the door bearing a tray. She knelt near the table, put the tray on the
floor, unbidden performed obeisance and then, as though submissively, put the
tray on the table, and put the paga, in a small kantharos, and the bread on its
trencher, before me. Then she put the bowl of porridge, with a spoon, before me.
She then withdrew, taking the tray, and put it to the side, on the floor, again
performing obeisance, unbidden, and then knelt back, as though in
attendance." Renegades of Gor, page 71
Wine/kalana
"...she poured the diluted wine into my cup...backed gracefully down the
stairs behind me, then turned and hurried away." Assassin
of Gor, page 89
"`Wine, Master?' she asked. 'Yes, Slave,' he said. Then she knelt before
him, back on her heels, head down, lifting the goblet to him, proffering it to
the master with both hands." Slave Girl of Gor page 405
""I turned and, among the furnishings of the tent, found a bottle of
Ka-la-na, of good
vintage, from the vineyards of Ar, the loot of a caravan raid. I then took the wine, with
a small copper bowl, and a black, red-rimmed wine crater, to the side of the fire. I
poured some of the wine into the small copper bowl, and set it on the tripod over the tiny
fire in the fire bowl. Again I took the bowl
from the fire. It was now not comfortable to hold the bowl, but it was not
painful to do so. I poured the wine from the small copper bowl into the black,
red-rimmed wine crater... I swirled, slowly, the wine in the wine crater. I saw my
reflection in the redness, the blondness of my hair, dark in the wine, and the collar,
with its bells, about my throat... I did not know how he cared for his wine, for some men
of Treve wish it warm, almost hot." " Captive of Gor, page 331
"Virginia Kent, with her pitcher of Ka-la-na, ran light-footedly to Relius,
guard in the House of Cernus." Assassins of Gor, page 238
"The man, one of Ar's, who had seen the Ka-la-na by the wall, crawled over
to it. He pulled the bottles into his lap, and began to work at the cork of one
of them...With his sleen knife he had pried the cork up a bit from the bottle.
He then, slowly, with his fingers and teeth, managed to withdraw the cork."
Hunters of Gor, page 123
Dryers, Caste of: are sub caste of Rug
Makers: Mentioned in the books
dung sack: used to contain bosk (or any) dung, after it has been raked up
or collected; also employed as a punishment when slave girls are forced to 'spend a night
in the dung sack': Nomads of Gor, page 285
Dust Legs: a tribe of Red Savages which inhabits the Barrens; so called
because they were the last tribe to domesticate kaiila: Savages of Gor, page 148
Duty of the Twelve Joys: Muls (slaves to the Priest-Kings) wash completely
12 times a day: Priest-Kings of Gor page 111
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