“Do what you will with her, without a second thought, use her variously, however you might wish. Keep her nude for a year, if you wish. Conceive of her, neck-chained, ankle-chained, at your slave ring. Consider her soft lips, and tongue, obedient and moist, on your feet, on your body. Is she not of interest? Consider her crawling to you, begging not to be whipped.”
I cried out, softly, in misery. “Forgive me, Master,” I said.
“I am now prepared to accept bids,” said the auctioneer.
— John Norman, Conspirators of Gor
© 2016, Andrew Conway. All rights reserved.
“Perhaps we should be entertained,” he said.
“Perhaps,” said Mirus, puzzled.
“I can do little, Master,” said Tupita. “I am bound.”
“Do not underestimate yourself,” he said.
“True, Master,” she laughed, delightedly. There are many things, of course which a woman, bound, can do for a man, and, indeed, if she is bound she knows, if anything, she must strive even more desperately to be pleasing to him.
— John Norman, Dancer of Gor
© 2016, Andrew Conway. All rights reserved.
I gasped. I feared for a moment I might die. My heart began to beat wildly. I did not wish to faint. I suddenly felt great heat, helpless heat in my belly. It seemed my thighs flamed. I was bound helplessly. My responses were suitable for a slave. I hoped the men could not smell me. Then I was terrified.
— John Norman, Dancer of Gor
© 2016, Andrew Conway. All rights reserved.
“Consider her,” I said to Pertinax. “Put your head down,” I said to the slave. She quickly, again, put her head down. “Look upon the sleek, vulnerable little she-beast,” I said to Pertinax. “I give her to you, as your animal. Scrutinize her slave curves. She is raw, and young, but surely she has collar promise. Consider her waiting on you, hand and foot. Consider her licking and kissing your feet. Consider her, squirming, moaning, and begging, in the furs. Am I to suppose that you, truly, would not know what to do with a slave?”
— John Norman, Swordsmen of Gor
© 2016, Andrew Conway. All rights reserved.
“Split your knees,” said Tajima.
“No!” said Pertinax.
“Now!” said Tajima.
The girl spread her knees.
“Wider!” said Tajima. She was, after all, a collar-girl. The former Miss Wentworth complied, quickly, docilely, with Tajima’s command. She had learned obedience to men, slave obedience, in the stable, at the hands of the grooms.
John Norman – Swordsmen of Gor
© 2014, Andrew Conway. All rights reserved.
“Do not move,” commanded the leather worker.
I felt the back of the claws of the punch enter my nostrils, distending them. There was a tiny, sharp click. Tears burst into my eyes. I felt acute pain for an instant, and then a prolonged, burning, stinging sensation.
Everything went black, but I did not faint, held in position by the guards.
When I opened my eyes, blinded with tears, I saw the leather worker approaching my face with a tiny, steel ring, partly opened, and a pair of pliers.
As I was held he inserted the ring in my nose. It was painful. Then, with the pliers, he closed the ring, and turned it, so that its opening, where the closed edges met, was concealed within, at the side of the septum.
I began sobbing with pain, with misery and degradation.
John Norman, Captive of Gor
© 2013, Andrew Conway. All rights reserved.
““Yes,” said Ginger. “And you will be choiceless, absolutely choiceless, little tart, at the end of a chain, at his feet, under a whip, in the furs of love, sweating in the grass, whenever and however he wants you. You will learn to love the ropes and straps with which you are bound, for they confirm your bondage upon you. You will neither speak nor clothe yourself without his permission. You will beg to tie his sandals, to wash and clean for him, to cook for him, to serve him in all ways in which a woman can serve a man, to petition humbly to be permitted to press your lips lovingly upon his feet, to supplicate him for the opportunity to lick and kiss the leather of his whip! In short, tart, he will be your master, and you will be his slave.”
John Norman – Savages of Gor
© 2013, Andrew Conway. All rights reserved.
She looked up at me, frightened. Then I fastened her in position, spreading her legs uncomfortably apart. Then, looking down upon her, I spread her legs by another four inches.
Then I had her.
John Norman – Rogue of Gor
© 2013, Andrew Conway. All rights reserved.
“The slave girl, normally, stays simply as men put her, for example, in such a case, presumably naked and bound.”
“Doubtless stark naked,” she said.
“Of course,” I said, “save for her collar.”
“And helplessly bound?”
“One supposes so,” I said.
“Hand and foot?”
“Presumably,” I said. “You must remember, they are slaves.”
John Norman – Renegades of Gor
© 2013, Andrew Conway. All rights reserved.
“Speak when you are spoken to, slut,” said the girl.
“Yes, Mistress,” I said. “Forgive me, Mistress.”
“Let us give her a switching,” said the other girl.
“No, Mistress!” I begged. “Please, no, Mistress!”
“You will be a good little slave, won’t you, Earth slut?” asked the first girl.
“Yes, Mistress!” I assured her.
“What do the masters see in such curvaceous little sluts?” asked the second girl.
“They are pretty little bundles of slave curves,” said the first.
“That is doubtless it,” said the second.
Witness of Gor – John Norman
© 2013, Andrew Conway. All rights reserved.
