Quarry of Gor by John Norman


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Quarry of Gor

Quarry of Gor (Gorean Saga Book 35) by John Norman
English | 2019 | Sci-Fi | ePUB | 1.6 Mb

Quarry of Gor : A well-to-do, upper-class young woman, intelligent, fashionable, educated, strikingly beautiful, exploitative, selfish, and haughty, a despiser of men as she knows them, taking them all as manipulable weaklings, meets a mysterious, unsettlingly attractive male at a cocktail party, one who is not only distant and seemingly immune to her brandished charms, but who seems to hold her, to her disgruntlement and indignation, in a subtle contempt.

Later her life undergoes an unexpected, dramatic, and radical change. Seized and shipped with others as cargo, as human cattle, to the beautiful, green, fresh, perilous world of Gor, she finds she is now only an object and beast, a slave. She is collared and branded. Her clothing, if any, and her food, as it might be, are now at the whim of others. She learns to kneel, to address the free as “Master” or “Mistress,” to strive to be pleasing, to obey immediately, beautifully, and without demur, in all things and in any respect, and to kiss a whip and hope that it will not be used on her. Later she meets again, on Gor, the mysterious man she met long ago at the cocktail party, only now she is before him, collared and branded, in a rag, on her knees, a lowly slave.

“I am attractive; otherwise I would not have been brought here; otherwise I would not have been collared and marked. But, like most girls, I am not expensive. Many of us are cheap. Most men, even poor men, can afford a female slave. I would suppose that you could buy me, if you wished. There are, of course, many to choose from. It is interesting, that even a beautiful girl from my former world, one whose beauty might have led to wealth and position, may, on this world, be owned by a poor man. Let her then, in her collar, barefoot, in her rag, at her labors, think on that. There are many beautiful women on this world. Accordingly, they are cheap. Indeed, many are natively Gorean, stolen, seized in raids, taken as prizes in war, and such. The female of the enemy is commonly regarded as a slave not yet in one’s collar. She is a familiar form of loot. Indeed, many male Goreans think of all women as slaves, only that some, the legally free, have not yet been put in the collars in which they belong.

It does not take us long to learn that we are animals, and properties. We are, as noted, marked and collared. Is that not fit for beasts? We are herded, caged, and chained. We are stripped and exhibited. We are bought and sold.

On my world, interestingly, I had long suspected that I was a natural slave. Why should it not be admitted, at least now? As a slave I am not permitted to lie. A free woman may lie, but a slave may not. That is one of the many differences between a free woman and a slave. A slave can be severely punished for lying. Yes, I had often suspected that I was a natural slave. In my dreams, and reveries, I had worn many collars and served many masters. I do not know, of course, if this sort of thing is the case with other women. I can speak only for myself. How I had fought this suspicion, the dreams and reveries, this whispering, pressing conviction that I was a slave, a natural slave! Was I such that I should be a rightless possession? Did I long to be owned, to have a master? Did I long to love and serve, surrendered and vulnerable, helpless, owned, and choiceless, to serve rightlessly, helplessly, selflessly? How fearful, how terrible! What tumult, what misery! It was antithetical to all that I had been taught, against all the rules and prescriptions I was not to question, opposed to all the lies and artificialities in which one must pretend to believe, so uncritically and unquestioningly. One is torn between convention, armed and aggressive, and socially coercive, and truth, between formulas and words and one’s heart and blood.

So it seemed with me.”

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