Perhaps an equal must resist a man, but I was not an equal; I was a slave girl! I belonged to men! I could be a biological woman, as perhaps a free woman could not. I could be a primitive female, an owned woman, as they could not. I could be a woman, as they could not. Slavery made me free to be a woman.
Slave Girl of Gor Book 11 Page 104


The veil, it might be noted, is not legally imperative for a free woman; it is rather a matter of modesty and custom. Some low-class, uncompanioned, free girls do not wear veils. Similarly certain bold free women neglect the veil. Neglect of the veil is not a crime in Gorean cities, though in some it is deemed a brazen and scandalous omission.
. . .
In some cities, and among some groups and tribes, it might be mentioned, though this is not common, veils may be for most practical purposes unknown, even among free women. The cities of Gor are numerous and pluralistic. Each has its own history, customs and traditions. On the whole, however, Gorean culture prescribes the veil for free women.
Slave Girl of Gor Book 11 Page 107 – 108


His collar, I had heard, was one of the most sought collars in Ar.
When he strode through the streets free women sometimes threw themselves before him, tearing away their veils and robes, begging for his collar.
Slave Girl of Gor Book 11 Page 155 – 156


The lust of Gorean males has much to do, doubtless, with the robes of concealment worn in most cities by Gorean free women. They would not wish the casual, inadvertent flirtation of an accidentally exposed ankle to lead to their hunt, capture and enslavement.
Slave Girl of Gor Book 11 Page 237


Free women are often cruel to beautiful female slaves. They put us under terrifying discipline. Perhaps they sense in us something of greater interest to men than themselves, something which constitutes to them a threat, something which is subtly competitive, and successfully so, to them. I do not know. Perhaps they fear us, or the slave in themselves. I do not know. Mostly I suspect the women were furious with me because I had been responsive to the touch of the auctioneer’s whip. Free women, desiring to yield, pride themselves on their capacity not to yield, to maintain their quality and integrity; slave girls, on the other hand, are not permitted such luxuries; they, whether they desire to yield or not, must yield, and totally; perhaps free women wish they did not have to be free, and could relate in biological naturalness, like the slave girl, to the dominant organism. Perhaps they wish they were slaves. I do not know. One thing is certain, and that is that there is a deep, psychological hostility on the part of the free woman for her sister in bondage, particularly if she be beautiful. Slave girls, accordingly, fear free women; slave girls want to be locked in the collars of men, not women.
Slave Girl of Gor Book 11 Page 291 – 192


She looked at me, not speaking. It seemed strange to me, later, that we, together, had spoken so. It was as though each of us desired to appear more frigid and less passionate than the other, as though the restriction or impairment of our natural sexuality were somehow desirable or meritorious. Women of Earth, I knew, sensitive to a heritage of insane values, of antibiological acculturation, sometimes competed with one another in their attempts to appear frigid, a competition which was often carried into the bedrooms of their husbands. Few wives, I knew, would dare to let themselves appear to their husbands as a hot, panting bitch. Slave girls, on the other hand, are given no choice.
“As a free woman,” she said, “I have had little opportunity to see a slave girl used.”
She looked at me, curious.
“Tellius,” she called. “Barus!”
The two men who had caught me entered the room.
The Lady Elicia indicated me to them. “Amuse yourselves with her,” he said.
“Have mercy on your slave!” I cried.
By the arms, I was thrown back on the tiles.

I wept, the tunic torn away from me, my body red and helpless, writhing on the tiles.
“Can there be more?” asked the Lady Elicia, amazed.
“She has not yet even experienced the first slave orgasm,” said Tellius, crouching beside me, looking up.
I turned my head from side to side, in misery. I looked up at him. I tried to lie still. But my body leaped to his touch. I cried out in misery.
“Is it soon?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Tellius, “note her breathing, the mottling of her skin, how she moves, her eyes.”
“Oh, please, Mistress, have mercy on me!” I wept. “Do not let them touch me further! Please, please, Mistress!”
Then I threw back my head and screamed. I clutched at Tellius. “You are my master!” I whispered, hoarsely. “You are my master!”
“Do not move,” he said.
“Oh, please, Master!” I wept
“You may now move,” he said.
I screamed and clutched at him, eyes closed, clawing at him, trying to bring our bodies closer. Then I threw back my head eyes wild, lips parted, and screamed, delivering my body to my master.
“It is the first of the slave orgasms,” said Tellius.
“I love you, Master!” I wept, clutching him. Gone now was the thought of the Lady Elicia. I, a slave girl, was in the arms of a Gorean male. I covered him with kisses and caresses, weeping. “Please touch your slave more, Master,” I begged.
“Little whore!” sneered the Lady Elicia.
“Touch me more, Master!” I begged.
“I knew you would be like this, even at the college,” she said. “Lovely Judy! A little whore!”
I licked at the hair on the upper arm of Tellius. “Please, Master,” I begged him.
“You are lower than a whore,” said the Lady Elicia. She looked down at me, in fury. “You are a slave girl!”
“I love you, Master,” I whispered to Tellius.
“Finish with her,” said the Lady Elicia, rising, angrily, from the curule chair. “And when you are done with her see that she is cleaned and groomed, and presented to me in a fresh tunic.”
“Yes, Lady,” said Tellius.
The Lady Elicia left the room.
Slave Girl of Gor Book 11 Page 311 - 312

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