Saturday, 6 May 2017

Mistress of Gor Chapter Three

Chapter Three: I think I am in love with the former Miss Rachel Evans of Oakhampton

“Are you satisfied with your new lodgings, Felice?” Kurgus drew back some ornate velvet drapes to permit sunshine to flood the room through the bay windows. The windows led out onto a small balcony overlooking the gardens to the rear of the property. I was now dressed as a typical Gorean Free Woman of Corcyrus of course, much to my discomfort. It was a cruel irony that now that I possessed a real woman's body, perfect in every way, I would be forced to hide it under layers and layers of loosely flowing gowns. How I desperately wanted to wear Western Earth fashions - short skirts, equally short dresses, skin tight stretch jeans, floppy layered tops, beautiful frocks that showed off my figure, but no, now that I was a woman on Gor all those things were forbidden to me. A woman who wished to dress like that would be considered a natural slave and dealt with accordingly. From the moment I stepped out of my bath in the morning, Louise was there to fuss over and dress me according to the principles of this suffocating culture. I was a woman and I had no choice in how I might appear in public.

The principle of a Free Woman's dress is to spare her the lustful attentions of men and so the clothing is arranged so as to conceal her from head to toe, allowing only her eyes to be revealed, and even in some regions of Gor, such as the Tahari, not even that. If this puts you in mind of the more orthodox countries in the Middle East then you would be correct in your thinking.

The robes are worn in layers, each outer layer being stiffer and bulkier than the one beneath it. The street robe for example is a very stiff robe and it goes over the house robe, which is more flexible. The robes are kept secure by a series of eyes and hooks and it can take some time for a High Caste women to dress in her multiple layers. She will likely need help dressing properly, hence the need for personal body slaves such as Louise. I had yet to be able to master the process of dressing myself completely, and before you laugh I would say, if you happen to be a man, then try putting a bra on while the clasps are at your back and then maybe you'll understand how some simple modes of dress can be difficult if you're not used to them. Gloves are also commonly worn, for the men of Gor are such, that a glimpse of a bare wrist on a Free Woman is enough to make them speculate on the lineaments of her body beneath the gowns. The robes may be of any colours though one's Caste colours will often be the predominant hue. Beneath these robes, a woman may wear a slip-like undergarment, its fabric dependent upon the wealth of the woman. High Caste women are more likely to own an undergarment of silk or a similar material as I did. A Low Caste woman is more likely to wear an undergarment of rep cloth. Bras, panties and tights are not worn on Gor.

Like robes, veils are worn in various numbers and combinations dependent upon one's Caste and station. High Caste women often own many veils and will wear a number commensurate with the occasion. Some wealthy women may wear up to ten veils on a formal occasion, but more commonly most women will wear only one or two veils, such as the last veil and the street veil. Each veil is heavier and more opaque than the veil beneath it. A veil is commonly a long length of fabric that is wound around a woman's head and secured by veil pins. A narrow gap is left for one's eyes.

The last veil, also known as the light veil, is often worn next to one's face. It is similar in some ways to the intimacy veil. The intimacy veil is also worn next to the face but it is diaphanous. This veil is long though and can be wound several times around one's face, thus making it more opaque with each revolution. The freedom veil is worn above the previous veil. The pride veil is then worn above the freedom veil. The house veil is worn over the pride veil. And yes, this is as restrictive as it might seem. The house veil is often worn indoors when the household is having guests, especially guests unfamiliar to a woman such as myself who knew very few people in the city. The street veil is commonly the topmost veil worn in public. This veil is very heavy and absolutely opaque.

In many 'progressive' Gorean cities, such as Ar, it is not legally mandatory for free women to wear Robes of Concealment and veils, rather it is more a matter of custom, tradition and modesty. But, there are some cities that make it mandatory and repeated violations can lead to enslavement. Part of the justification for this garb is to protect free women from being kidnapped by raiders. Most men will not risk their life to try to abduct a woman who might turn out to be ugly. It is much more profitable to steal a slave who they can easily see is attractive.

In the Robes and veils it is easy for a free woman to disguise her identity while she travels around the city. Another justification is that free women are supposed to be modest and not act like a slave in any way. Wearing clothes that are too revealing would be a social faux pas. Even in cities where such garb is not mandatory, there will still be laws that prevent free women from baring too much flesh in public. And yes, violations of such laws can lead to enslavement.

Normally only one's family may look upon a free women without her veil, which in my case means no one here on Gor. Within their homes, some women may not wear a veil in the presence of certain special guests. Free women, when drinking in public, commonly lift their veils with their left hands to drink. Others will drink right through their veils. In public, some Low Caste women don't wear veils and a few bold High Caste women may also not wear them. This is more likely to lead to negative ramifications for the High Caste woman. Peer pressure helps to contribute to women wearing veils. If a High Caste woman does not wear veils in public, she may find herself shunned by other women or even publicly insulted. Women of the barbaric lands often do not wear veils, and even women of some of the northern cities do not commonly wear veils. In the cities, it is often a serious crime for someone to face strip a free women, to remove her veils against her will. Such an action is usually only undertaken by a man who intends capturing and enslaving the woman anyway.

Footwear for free women is commonly either sandals or slippers, dependent on Caste. Boots may also be worn, dependent on the situation. Some women wear platform shoes, especially those of High Caste or station.

Personally speaking, I found the clothing and veils to be claustrophobic and uncomfortable. The climate in Corcyrus resembles that of San Francisco, and so it is hardly conducive to being bundled up so. The clothing is also restrictive in that it is impossible to run in so many layers of gowns that reach down to your ankles. The hobbling effect on a woman reminds her perhaps of her lowly position in Gorean society and how vulnerable she might be without male protection. Such protection of course is only there so long as she conducts herself in a pleasing manner, being careful not to incite any lustful thoughts in men through careless or perhaps mildly flirtatious actions.

Not all women are so encumbered. Slave girls often wear little more than a skimpy rep tunic, low cut at the neck to reveal a girl's cleavage, sleeveless, often slashed at the sides, with a scandalously short hemline baring her legs for men to enjoy. Dressed like that a slave girl can move quickly and comfortably, gracefully even. They attract the attention of men automatically, and they seem to enjoy doing so. It is one of the reasons I think why Free Women on the whole hate slave girls.    

“It’s a considerable improvement on my small flat in London.” I was quietly impressed by the splendour of the marbled architecture and the large sunlit rooms and walled grounds. To be honest I had only seen this sort of property in photo spreads in celebrity women's magazines that I had bought for the latest fashion and makeup articles when I was trying to learn all the things genuine women had spent their childhoods and teenage years learning. I was now conversing with Kurgus in Gorean of course, for I had spent several months learning it and many of the customs of this planet under the uncompromising supervision of Tallia.

To be honest, learning to speak Gorean wasn't particularly difficult for I've always had a skill with languages and studied ancient Greek and Latin at school, which apparently was what brought me in particular to Udumi's attention when Kurgus asked her to set aside one of her captures for possible use as an agent on Gor. The process mostly took place while I slept and was reinforced during the day time lessons from Tallia. At night I would go to sleep with a small ear piece in my right ear. It was hollow and therefore did not create the sort of vacuum feeling you get from trying to sleep with earplugs in. It was another example of the advanced technology available to the space faring Kurii as it registered my brain patterns and at the point where I drifted off to REM sleep it began to run a series of subliminal language lessons to imprint the basics of Gorean into my head.

The next day Tallia would test me on what I had learnt while I slept, running over the words and phrases, encouraging me to build fluent sentences and hold conversations. The classes would be taken in her apartments where I would kneel in the traditional position of the Free Woman. She on the other hand would often sit cross legged as a Panther Girl might if she was mimicking the status and authority of a man. Having lost her animal skins when she was captured, Tallia chose to wear the cast off tunics of men within the villa. On her the garments were loose and were it not for the belt securing the garment around her waist it would be baggy enough to conceal much of her curves, The hem of the tunic fell past her knees, such was the height difference between her and the man who previously wore it. Kurgus permitted her to carry a knife that she chose to wear in a belt sheath. It was a concession to prove to her that he intended to honour his word.

“Again,” Tallia would say as she sat looking down at me. She had also chosen to wear a slave whip clipped to her belt. Occasionally she might rest a hand upon it, perhaps as a subtle reminder of her physical superiority over me. It is worth noting that the whip was never actually used. I do not think this is a reflection of my aptitude with learning Gorean, for I did make mistakes, especially in the early days, but rather I suspect the whip was purely for show, and that Tallia had been told by Kurgus that I was not to be disciplined. I was of course free and according to the customs it would not be appropriate for Tallia to have had whip rights over me. While not technically enslaved, Tallia remained the captive of Kurgus until such a time he chose to release her. In a sense then I was above her in status. I have no doubt she would have liked to have whipped me - I could see it in her eyes at times, for she thought of me as weak, and in the eyes of a panther, a weak woman is an insult to her own sex. Panther Girls can be extremely cruel to a soft yielding silk slave if such a girl falls into their hands. They despise any sign of wanton sexuality for the benefit of a man. Yes, Tallia thought me weak, and she would have whipped me had we been in the Northern Forests which she called home.

I in turn hated her of course. This was curious, because on Earth, as a man, I had often been turned on by fantasies of a Fem Dom nature. My fantasies revolved around me being dominated by a strong woman, being bound, made to serve her, being punished perhaps, and yet here Tallia was the real thing, and yet… I did not seek her domination of me. Rather I resented the way she had imposed her superior strength and speed when she had seized me, forced me to submit and made me hurry to the slave ring where she tied me to spend the night naked on the tiles. The reality when it had suddenly occurred had not turned me on the way my male fantasies had done, or so I thought at the time. I had instead been terrified and then, as the hours crept by, I had been furious, growing even more so as it became clear to me that her knots were capture knots and no amount of struggling, wriggling or whimpering could free myself. If this had been my fantasy ever since puberty, why had the real thing not aroused me? The answer was of course rather complex, as I would slowly discover. So yes, I hated her in a petty, resentful manner, while she in turn dismissed me as weak. She was stronger than me, faster than me, tougher than me, and I could tell that in a way, though he would never say so, Kurgus admired her resilient and uncompromising spirit. Oh, no doubt Kurgus felt sure he could break her in time, but the resistance she had shown so far elevated the girl in his eyes. It was bad enough feeling weak and helpless before the men of Gor – men such as Kurgus and his armed guards at the vila, but to feel weak and helpless before this Panther Girl was really too much for me to bear.

I repeated the verbs and adverbs I had learnt, sounding each one out in turn as Tallia listened intently for any mistakes. The subliminally hypnotic lessons were a big help, but they were nothing without the day time lessons to bring the words up into my conscious mind. As the days rolled into weeks, Tallia grew curious about me.

“Kurgus tells me that on Earth you were actually a man.”

“Yes I was.” I wasn't too pleased that Kurgus had told Tallia this. Like many Transgender girls, being reminded of my true sex was embarrassing when I was presenting myself as a woman. Of course now it wasn't the case any more that I was presenting as a woman, rather I was now biologically a woman in every sense because of the alien science that had reshaped my body.

“He also told me that on Earth when you were a man you frequently dressed as a slave girl.”

“I wore feminine clothes, but I didn't dress as a slave.”

“Really? Kurgus showed me the garments you wore the night you were captured. He told me you commonly wore garments of slave-like brevity.” 

“I wish he hadn't said that.” I blushed and lowered my head, still feeling the tell tale emotions that I had been doing something wrong by rejecting the conventions of my own sex and embracing everything that I associated with being feminine.

“Why would you do that? I don't understand? Being a man is an advantage in every respect. You would be stronger, more likely to be in charge, to earn more money. The world still works in your favour.”

“It's difficult to explain. I'd rather not talk about it.”

“Maybe not, but we are here to converse in Gorean for the purpose of teaching you the language. I think this is a topic that will prove a useful tool for you to practise your conversational Gorean. Why did you wear dresses and skirts when you were a man?”

“I like the way they look. I like they way they feel and I like the way they make me feel. They make me feel... I don't know... calm, happy, content. I feel complete, if that makes any sense. I never felt comfortable as a man, in male clothing, I always felt it wasn't right, but when I dressed as a woman, made myself resemble a woman to the best of my abilities, well, then everything felt good - no, felt very good. Everything I did felt so much better if I was wearing a dress and heels.”

“A slave-like garment can do that?”

“In conjunction with adopting the appearance of a woman, yes. The make-up, the hair, the nails, the curves of a woman's body.” I had been asked these questions before by many people, in bars and in taxis, and I still found it difficult to give satisfactory answers that didn't sound trite. “They aren't considered slave garments on Earth. They are commonly worn at night by the women of Earth.”

“The women of Earth are natural slaves. Everyone knows that. Do you wish you had been born a woman?”

“Sometimes. It's difficult to explain. Sometimes, yes. And then sometimes my male mind rebelled against my fantasies and desires and told me I was being stupid, ridiculous, and then I would have feelings of shame, that I was somehow doing something wrong. Particularly if…" I suddenly stopped. I was about to say something that would be far too personal to disclose.

"If what?" Tallia regarded me carefully.

"It's nothing. I don't wish to say."

"I command you to do so."

"Don't be ridiculous. You have no authority over me." I shook my head. "It is clear to me that although you wear that slave whip clipped to your belt, you have no authority to use it on me. You think I haven't guessed that? It's obvious. Kurgus permitted you the one indignity on my first night in Corcyrus to teach me my limits, but that is all."

Now Tallia smiled. "You are sure of that, pretty little slip of a girl? You are very, very sure of that…" Her right hand now rested on the coils of the whip. Her eyes fixed hard on mine. "Think carefully, girl. If you are wrong and I uncoil this whip, it will be because you will feel it. Are you so very sure you are prepared to take that gamble?"
I swallowed hard. Was she serious? She now had the look of a forest panther that was watching its prey, judging what I might do. No, Kurgus would not have given her whip rights over me. The thought was absurd. I was to be his Agent on Gor. I was to be someone important to his Masters. Tallia would not be permitted to beat me. The thought was absurd.

But the look in her eyes. I was no longer so sure of myself. Could she? Would she? I remembered how easily Tallia had bested me that first night in Corcyrus, how easily she had brought me to my knees, to a point of abject submission, and how easily she had bound me to a slave ring. I had no doubt that a whip wielded in her hands would hurt me. And I had no doubt that she would first strip me, tie me to a whipping ring and then whip me.

But no. Kurgus would not allow it. She was bluffing.

Tallia rose to her feet, her hand still resting on the coiled whip. With a deft movement of her fingers she released the clasp. The whip could now be removed from its clip, shook loose and used in a single motion. Her eyes regarded mine, cold, unblinking the eyes of a hunter, the eyes of a woman far stronger than me.

I looked down, breaking the gaze. I couldn't meet her eyes. My heart beat hammered inside my chest. I felt giddy, weak, suddenly fearful.

"Speak, little silk girl. Speak now or test me at your peril."

I couldn't take the risk. "It would be after I… after I… pleasured myself… dressed as a girl… in soft dresses, stockings, with makeup, and sometimes I would feel so aroused looking at myself in the mirror that I would… you know, play with myself, and after that… then I'd feel the sense of shame. The sense of doing something that society had decided was forbidden to me. And I would then hurry to a mirror and scrub away my makeup, pull the dress from my body and cry on my bed, wishing I wouldn't have to repeat this endless cycle of desperately needing to be a girl and then feeling so shameful afterwards."

"I see." Tallia continued to stand there. "I think you are a slave in your heart, pretty little silk girl."

"No! No I am not! It is just fantasies! Fantasies that come and go!"

"You lie to yourself then. You cannot recognise what you are. But Gor will show you in time. Gor will reveal to you your natural place."

"No! I don't believe all that crap!"

"Believe what you will, or not, the men of Gor care little for such distractions. Tell me, do you desire men?"

"No. No!" I felt it important, very important, to make that clear to her. "I do not. I have no interest in men."

"That is interesting, for men will surely desire you."

"Let them. It is no concern of mine." I shook my head. "I was not brought here to Gor to be a man's plaything - a man's slave. I still have the mind of a man inside this feminine body. I am still attracted to women. Women are beautiful."

"I think, pretty little silk girl, that you confuse wanting to be a woman, because you find her so beautiful, with wanting to have a woman. The former is true for you, of that I am sure, but perhaps you have over many years been confused about what else you want. I pity you. You are not happy, nor will you ever be until you recognise that your femininity is rather more than skin deep." Tallia clicked her fingers. "The lesson is ended for today. Go to your rooms and consider what we have said today."

"Tallia?" I looked up as the woman began to turn away, her fingers securing once again the clasp on the belt where the whip hung. With a shrug she looked back at me over her shoulder.


"Has Kurgus given you whip rights over me? I mean, has he?"

"Of course."  


“From what I've seen of it, Gor is a beautiful world in many ways. Life can be good here if you have money,” I said as I continued to admire the view from my new home within the walled villa compound.

“I'm glad you feel that way. This is your new life after all, at least until we send you out into the field on our behalf with a mission. We’ve kept our side of the bargain. You have fine clothes, a lavish property and a steady income that means you’ll want for little. We look after our agents, sweet Felice.” Kurgus stood with his arms folded as he watched me explore the adjoining rooms.

“And I am grateful for all this, Kurgus. Very grateful.” I knew of course that the unspoken alternative was a steel collar and chains, not to mention a slave brand. I thought back to the frightened face of Miss Elizabeth Bentley as she stared back at me from the confines of her transport capsule on Earth. Where was she now? In a slave pen, being trained? Or had she been exhibited and auctioned on the block and was now serving a Master in some city somewhere. I had seen her naked of course, lying helpless in the grass as a collar was locked about her throat, and I knew she would make a splendid slave girl. Her hair colouring, that rich reddish brown, was actually very rare on Gor, and therefore highly prized. Yes, the beautiful, curvaceous Miss Elizabeth Bentley would no doubt command a high price. I wished I could see her again. She was truly, breathtakingly beautiful. But what would she make of me like this? I clenched my hands into small fists in frustration. 

“As you should be. You are our woman now. You’ve been educated in the customs and traditions of Gor at great expense and from this day on you shall serve as our agent in the Tahari and beyond. The region is currently ripe with possibilities and we need an active agent there.” Kurgus smiled as he considered the future. “This is a period of transition when power might slip through many hands. We are interested in the desert region of the Tahari and will appreciate whatever intelligence you can gather during your time there. In addition, there may be a specific mission that will test you to the full.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“I’m sure you will.” Kurgus drew a pouch from the inside of his tunic and dangled it in front of me by its worn leather thongs. It was heavy with coins. “For your initial expenses in the region.” As I reached for it, Kurgus drew his hand back suddenly.

“Kurgus?” I frowned as my hand closed on thin air instead of on the pouch of coins.

With a smile Kurgus placed the pouch into my outstretched hand and stroked my wrist softly. “Always remember who pays for your fine clothes and expensive food, Felice.”

“Behave yourself, Kurgus. I still have the mind of a man, remember. I do not think like a woman. I do not appreciate being toyed with.” I drew my hand back quickly and weighed the pouch in my palm. I could feel the outline of the coins – a mixture of silver and gold no doubt. “As I said, I’ll earn my pay.”

“You will communicate in code. We expect weekly despatches.”

“And how do I contact you? How do I send these despatches?”

“It transpires that the Lady Felicea loves to read. Once you are registered and accepted as a citizen of Patashqar in the Tahari, you will be entitled to use the facilities of the city library where tens of thousands of books and scrolls are stored. Each week you will visit to browse and select a scroll. It doesn’t matter which one you borrow. You don’t even need to read it if you don’t wish to. When you return the scroll at the end of the week, your coded report will be inserted inside the scroll tube. We have a courier agent at the library and this person will know when you have returned a scroll. The message will be intercepted and removed before the scroll is returned to the public racks.”

“I see. And this courier?”

“The courier’s name is none of your business. A good many people work at and have access to the library. The identity of our courier will remain anonymous to you for obvious reasons.”

“So I can’t tell anyone who he or she is?”


“Have no fear, Kurgus. I know how to be discrete.”

“You had better be. The people of Patashqar would not appreciate the true nature of your work for us.”

“I’m not stupid, Kurgus. I’m well aware of the risks. Self preservation alone means I’ll be as careful as I can.” I ran my fingers along the side of an ornate couch with inlaid silver and gold designs. “I may not look it, but I’m feeling quite scared. I’m on an alien world, taking on work that the citizens of this city would consider treason if I shared their home stone. My heart is beating like a trip hammer just thinking about it.”

“Attention to detail is the secret, Felice. Forget everything about your old life as a man of Earth. Immerse yourself instead in every detail of Gor, no matter how trivial. Think of yourself from now on as a Gorean woman. The secret to deceiving people is to embrace your role totally to the point where you believe it too. Just a few small mistakes can arouse suspicion, for Goreans are naturally very suspicious people.”

Kurgus paced around the open chamber of the Corcyrian building. There was still much to say and do before he could be confident I could operate in what was a very alien environment for me. “Officially you come from Corcyrus. Your olive skin tone makes that an obvious choice, and besides, it’s never a good idea to pose as a native of the city in which you operate. No amount of training and education can replace a lifetime of growing up with a particular homestone. There will always be a thousand and one things you don’t know but should know about Patashqar if you claimed to be a citizen since birth. The Tahari region is located southeast of Ar, below the eastern foothills of the Voltai Mountains. Corcyrus is far enough away and considered remote and inaccessible that citizens of Patashqar will be unable to recognise if you make mistakes in your background. It is unlikely that you will ever encounter a man or woman from Corcyrus in Patashqar, but if you do I would suggest you avoid them. Your spoken Gorean is passable, and your knowledge of Gorean customs is reasonably good now, but a man from Corcyrus would soon recognise that your knowledge of his city was basic at best. The main cities of the Tahari are Tor in the northwest and Kasra to the west of Tor. Between them is the desert, known as the Wastes or the Emptiness. It is a remote a forbidding place where only the strongest can survive.”

“Why am I unlikely to encounter anyone from Corcyrus in the Tahari?”

“The people of Gor do not as a rule travel much beyond their region. While you may find overlapping areas, you would not for example find men of Schendi holidaying in Ar or Cos. There are two major tribes of the Tahari; the Aretai and the Kavars. All of the other tribes are either vassals of these two or too small to be of any importance.”

“And what do I need to know about these tribes?”

“For practical purposes, very little. No one you meet will expect you to know anything about them. Or if they do, then no amount of briefing will really prepare you for a long conversation on the subject. The point of giving you this background is that no one is really going to be able to question it. I have provided some papers relating to the desert people. Read them thoroughly and imprint the knowledge in your head. Then burn the papers. It wouldn’t do for a Corcyrian woman to be found in possession of a briefing on what a Tahari woman should know about her land of origin.”

“Of course not. The papers will be ash by tomorrow morning.”

“If you’re concerned about detail, and I think you should be, as it is ultimately your life on the line, my beautiful agent, then I would advise you to tie a strand of silk between your ankles during the day. Taharian women are expected to adopt a graceful and measured stride in their land, and to do so they restrict and maintain the length of their pace with silk thongs. It is up to you how long the thread of silk should be, but for your light body frame, I would recommend twelve to sixteen inches. Some Taharian free women use sets of light walking chains for the same purpose, but I advise you not to in Corcyrus as the custom is not common here and the sound of chain links would be misconstrued.”

I laughed softly. “I assure you the thought of chaining my ankles together has never occurred to me.”

“I never said it did. But details like this you are supposed to know. It is a matter of common practice in the Tahari and one that a woman travelling there would understand. If questioned on the subject you are not only supposed to know of it, but possibly to have practised it too, in order to blend in with the locals. An observant Gorean might notice a supposedly Taharian woman walking with the same confident stride as a city woman, when supposedly she has spent all her life being taught to take smaller measured steps. Such a small detail could be enough to arouse attention in a man tasked with the responsibility to find spies. It’s not worth taking the risk. Questions inevitably lead to more questions. And the more questions, the more chance of you making a fatal mistake. Do you understand?”


“Now, I have a gift for you Felice. It is, a gift that would be priceless on Earth, and yet here on Gor I grant it to you as I might offer a cup of wine.” Kurgus clapped his hands and waited as a tall, robed physician entered the chambers. The man had a hooked nose, deep set eyes and short stubble for hair. In his hands he carried a hypodermic syringe.

“No more drugs…” I quickly shook my head. “I told you after I was drugged in England, I won’t permit that again.”

Kurgus seemed amused by that statement. “You were drugged so that we could transport you easily. The journey by steel ship would not have been pleasant had you been awake during the long voyage. Our transport vessels are not built for comfort. It was for your own good. You have to learn to trust us, Felice. Have we ever done anything that hasn’t in the long term been to your benefit?”

“What is in that syringe?”

“As I said, a priceless gift: the fountain of eternal youth that the Conquistadors sought in the New World. It’s a stabilisation serum – quite common on Gor, but unknown to the people of Earth. It is my gift to you, a gift that rich men and women in America would offer millions of dollars for. It will stabilise your age as it is now. You need never lose your beauty, Felice. You will forever look the way you do now and you will live for hundreds of years.”

“You can do that?”

“Yes, we can. A series of injections… and you will never fear the ravages of time. Do you want that?”

I glanced at the physician holding the syringe. It seemed virtually impossible, and yet, wasn’t everything I had experienced lately been just as impossible? I was being offered eternal youth? The preservation of my beauty against the ravages of time? How could I refuse? “Yes. Yes I do”

“You see. You must trust us, Felice. We are your friends here on Gor. Your true friends. We want the best for you, because you are going to help us.” Kurgus motioned for the physician to approach the girl. “Bare your left arm, Felice.”

I rolled the loose sleeve of my robe up, exposing my skin to the physician. I  turned my gaze away as I felt the prick of the needle. It didn’t really hurt, but like a lot of people I was squeamish about watching an injection take place. The moment passed as I felt the physician step away.

“One more thing.” Kurgus walked to a small table where a bottle of ka-la-na stood beside a silver chased goblet. As I watched, he poured a small measure of the red wine and then, producing a small vial from a pouch in his belt, he poured the contents of the vial into the wine and stirred it with a spoon. Satisfied, he picked up the goblet and presented it to me.

“What is that exactly?” I eyed the drink with suspicion.

“An inhibitor of sorts. Once imbibed it prevents you conceiving in the event you might choose to have sex with a man.” Kurgus recognised and expected my astonished expression and waved aside my protests before they were even voiced. “Rest assured I am not interested in your private personal life or what you choose to do, outside of the fact that your behaviour must not imperil your work for us. I spent enough time on Earth to understand the deep sexual needs of its women there. My only concern is that a pregnant agent would not be a very active agent.” Kurgus offered the goblet of wine again. “Drink quickly. I fear the taste is somewhat bitter.”

“How long does the drug last?”

“Indefinitely, until you drink a breeding drug that undoes the effect of this inhibitor drug.”

“A breeding drug!”

“Forgive me, but Goreans see such things in a different way than you do.” Kurgus smiled again. “Of course if you are uncomfortable with the idea of taking the drug, there are practical and convenient alternatives. It is possible to purchase in the market place an intimate belt of sorts that can be locked around your hips and sex that makes congress impossible in conventional breeding terms. That too would be acceptable to us. You would still be able to please a man with your mouth and hands, if you felt the need. As a surety I would of course have to retain the key to the belt.”

“You’re being crude, Kurgus. It’s not an attractive quality in a man.”

Kurgus shrugged. “The Lady Felicea is probably right. The Gorean man’s attitude towards sex would be considered crude by the standards of the men and women of Earth. Nevertheless a pregnant agent would be of little use to us. If you will not drink the wine, then I shall have to visit the market place on your behalf. You have a slim waist with richly curved hips. It will not be difficult to find you a belt that will fit, though I suggest you allow me to take your intimate measurements if comfort is to be a factor. I will arrange for a slave to periodically remove the belt from you, under close supervision of course, for hygiene purposes.”

I took the goblet and placed it to my lips, lifting aside the light house veil with my left hand in the process. I wrinkled my nose as I sipped the liquid. “You’re right. It is bitter.”

“Best to drink it quickly. Holding your breath is said to help as it dulls the sensation of taste.”

I nodded and poured the wine quickly down my throat. “Ugh. I’m glad I won’t have to repeat this on a daily basis. It’s vile.”

“I understand it tastes worse without the wine.” Kurgus took the goblet back and checked to see that it contained none of the liquid. “But of course I wouldn’t know.”

“Is that it? Or do you still have further cocktails of chemicals that you think I need?”

“No. You can relax now, Felice. We’re done.”

“In that case I think I’ll rest for a while.”

“There is one last thing. We’re going to play a little game.”

“A game?” I rolled my eyes in frustration. Was there no end to this?

“Imagine I’m a chancellor of the council of Patashqar and you are introducing yourself for the first time as a visitor to the city to apply for a permit to reside within the city walls. Imagine me now in the fine robes of the scribes, reviewing your application. Please… indulge me in what you would say.” Kurgus took a few steps back and gestured with his right hand.

“Can’t we do this later, Kurgus? I got up early and have been training all day. I really am tired now.”

“As I said, indulge me.”

“Oh, very well.” I turned my back to Kurgus, took several steps away and then turned round again. I was dressed in multiple flowing gowns of silks and linens and lightly veiled as befitted my presence within a private house. With a couple of steps I approached Kurgus and lowered my head briefly in acknowledgement. “Tal Sir. I am the Lady Felicea of Corcyrus. I have come to petition citizenship within your city.”

“Tal, Lady Felicea. Be seated. Please.”

I sighed and reluctantly knelt down in the tower position on the floor. I really was tired and was looking forward to a few hours rest before exploring the city, but I watched as Kurgus sat down too, though in his case cross legged.

“What is your caste?”

“I am of the scribes, Sir.”

“You seem well dressed. Your clothes are by no means cheap. You belong to a high caste. Can I assume you have funds to your name?”

“I do, Sir, yes.”

“And how is it then that a wealthy Corcyrian woman from a far away city beyond the sands finds herself many pasangs here?”

“Kurgus?” I was surprised by the question.

“I am not Kurgus. Answer the question, woman.” His voice sounded harsher than usual.

“I am wealthy, yes. I simply decided to seek a new life in the cities of the desert and…”

“How much money? Show me.”

I lifted the pouch of coins I had been given and opened it. I counted out ten coins of gold and twenty of silver. They were for the most part stamped by the mints of Ar and Cos.

“That is a lot of money. How did it come to be in your hands?”


“Stop calling me Kurgus. Treat this seriously. Answer the question.”

“I… I earned it.”

“You earned it? Ten gold and twenty silver? Do you think me a fool, Lady? A girl from Corcyrus enters the desert on her own with that amount of money?”

I stared silently at Kurgus, a mixture of annoyance and confusion racing through my head.

“Girls from the Northern cities do not simply start a new life in the desert with a bag full of money. Why are you here? Why are you not in Corcyrus? How did you even get across the desert in the first place?”

“I really don’t have the time or patience for this right now, Kurgus.” I quickly rose to my feet and smoothed down the embroidered silk of my outer gown. “You can play your games some other time when I'm not feeling so tired. Now, if you'll excuse me...”

“I did not give your permission to rise. Sit down.”

“Fuck off.” I switched back to English and glared at him.

“Now you’re being crude, Felice. It’s not an attractive quality in a woman.” Kurgus inclined his head towards the distant door. “Morgan. In here, now.” The door to the chamber opened as one of Kurgus’s warriors quickly stepped inside. He too wore the red tunic and had a Gorean short sword in a scabbard at his waist. The hilt of the blade was worn smooth with years of handling. “See that Felicea sits down.” Morgan nodded and quickly closed the distance towards me. Gripping first one of my wrists and then the other, he forced me back down to my knees.

“Kurgus, you fucking bastard! How dare you!” I continued to swear in English.

Kurgus motioned with his hand for Morgan to release my wrists and stand next to me. “You’ve just addressed me in English, Felice. If this wasn’t a game you’d now be taken away by Patashqar's soldiers to a secure place where you could explain to their satisfaction how you are fluent in a barbarian tongue. But I’ll ignore that for the purpose of this exercise since I don’t think you would be so stupid as to have spoken in English to someone other than me. Do so again however, and I will not be pleased. Now answer my questions.”

“I grew tired of the restrictions of my life in Corcyrus. I wanted to see other parts of Gor.” I switched back to grammatically perfect Gorean as I rubbed my wrists.

“No. Not good enough. A Corcyrian Free Woman doesn’t simply grow tired of her city and decide to travel to the desert on her own. Try again.”

“Then what do you want me to say? I suddenly had a fascination for sand! I like not being able to take a bath! I hear the shops are better in the desert!”

“Take this seriously, Felice.”

“I don’t know! Perhaps I’m looking for my brother. I heard he might have travelled this way.”

“Do you know what I think?”

“Do I look like I care?”

“You should, Lady. I think you are not who you say you are. You have not convinced me that you can be trusted in Patashqar. Your story, what little there is of it, sounds as likely as the mighty Magicians of Anango. Are you a spy, Lady Felicea? Were you sent here by the forces who plot against Gor and the Priest Kings? Do you mean our people harm?”

“No. I told you, I’m simply looking for a new home.”

“Ah yes, a girl from a wealthy Northern city, crossing hundreds of pasangs of shifting sands with a pouch full of gold and silver. What an adventure you must have had! Tell me, were you troubled much by bands of roving slavers, or did you scare them all away with the strength of your scimitar arm? Did you have any problems navigating a thousand pasangs of arid desert?”

“What exactly is the point of all this?”

“The point is simple, Felice. If I was a chancellor of Patashqar, you would now be under arrest. The people there are justifiably paranoid. The administrators will be looking for spies and enemies who they believe lurk in every souk. You will need to think up a story that is plausible. The consequences for you otherwise would be very grave indeed.”

“You’ve made your point.”

“I’m glad you think so, Felice.”

“Can I stand up now?”

“Of course you can. You’re a free woman. You can do whatever you wish.”

I rose to my feet a second time and turned to stare directly at the guardsman, Morgan, until he stepped aside, but he did so only after receiving a nod from Kurgus. “So how DO I Explain myself to the authorities of Patashqar?”

“You’re asking me, Felice?”

“I’m asking you, yes. You brought me to Gor. You educated me in its customs and rituals and history and geography. You had me taught the language by a native Panther Girl. You obviously know what I should say.”

“Yes I do.” Kurgus smiled.

“Well? Is this part of the game too?”

“You were selected for three reasons. First and foremost you came to my attention because of your beauty when you emerged from the shape changing cylinder.”

“Flattery aside, if that’s the first thing you look for in an agent, then you must have a lot of very poor agents working for you.”

“You weren’t originally earmarked as a potential agent. We seize weak Earth men like you and change you with our science for other duties too. We would definitely have found a use for you regardless.”

“Well, I’m flattered. But we’re digressing from the point here, aren’t we?”

“You then came to our attention because of your talent for languages. While any Earth man or woman can be taught a reasonable level of Gorean – and you’d be surprised at how eager and quick they are to learn, even ones who have never bothered to learn a secondary language before – to seriously grasp the subtle nuances of the language, and to speak it like a native Gorean, well, that requires someone with a brilliant grasp of linguistics.” Kurgus offered me  a mock bow.

“My University degree in ancient Greek, Latin and Persian. Yes. I remember you telling me that Udumi made a note of that.”

“Ancient languages come easy to you.”

“Go on, I’m listening.” I turned to regard Morgan who still stood close by. “And I think you can leave now, Morgan. Off you go. Shoo.” The guard smiled to himself as he gazed at me, as if enjoying a private joke at my expense, but with just a confirming glance at Kurgus, nodded and exited the room.

“You’ll have to excuse Morgan. Like many real men he’s unused to taking orders from a woman.”

“Really? Well, that’s his problem, not mine. He’d better get used to it.”

“Oh… I do so enjoy your company at times, Felice. You can be so very entertaining.”

“I’m glad you’re getting your money’s worth. So what should I say to the authorities of Patashqar? How do I explain being a Corcyrian woman in their city?”

“The third thing we look for in a good agent is intelligence. A sharp mind. You are an intelligent woman, aren’t you Felice?”

“Yes. Yes I am.”

“Well there you are then. Consider this a test. We have given you a woman's body. We have educated you in the ways of Gor. We have taught you the language of Gor. We have dressed you as a Gorean woman. You look splendid. Now comes your crucial test. You will need to convince the authorities, when we despatch you east, that you are who you say you are. I’m not going to tell you what to say. I could do, but I won’t. An agent is of no use to us if she isn’t clever. If you are clever, then you will come up with a plausible story. If you’re not clever… well… better you are arrested soon, when you know precious little of our plans and ambitions, than arrested much later when you can tell our enemies everything they want to know.”

“Kurgus…” I no longer looked quite as confident as I had been moments before.

“Nervous, Felice?”

“Yes. Please tell me what I should say. Please.”

“No. For that you are on your own. From now on you will need to think for yourself if you are going to succeed. From now you learn to sink or swim. You have many long nights ahead of you, Felice. Your story will have to be absolutely water tight. Anticipate in advance every question they may ask. Any hesitation could cost you your life.”


Because I was the only Free Woman resident at Kurgus's villa, I enjoyed the luxury of having the baths to myself in the early hours of the morning. Kurgus was always up long before I was and so he promised that from the eighth hour onwards I would enjoy privacy in the pool. His men at arms had their own outbuildings which included a smaller bathing room, so the use of the pool inside the house was all mine. The pool was large, easily fifteen feet long and nine feet wide, tiled in a Roman mosaic style and decorated with plinths and pedestals around the walls holding marble sculptures of mostly naked women. There were also urns with exotic plants as the bath room was kept warm by a series of heated water pipes running beneath the floor. Along the sides of the pool itself were recessed ledges above the water level, where vials of scented oils and bath crystals were kept. There was also a corner of the room where slaves could be instructed to kneel and play relaxing music on instruments resembling flutes and harps. The ceiling was two storeys high and constructed of stained glass to let light through. Again, the stained glass formed a scene of several kajiras kneeling in various positions of submission. It seemed that wherever I looked on Gor I was to be constantly reminded of the submissive nature of my new sex.

But this morning as I descended the set of short steps into the secluded bathing area was different. I came up short in the entrance as I discovered that for the first time since I woke up on Gor I was not alone in the bath room. A woman I hadn't seen before lay in the pool with her back to me. She had long dark hair and a beautiful body. My first thought was that a slave had dared to use the bath water, but no, that was impossible. No slave in the villa would dare do such a thing. Kurgus would probably kill her.

I stepped forward on bare feet, feeling the softly heated tiles as I approached the pool. I wore only a light under slip and a wrap as I hadn't expected to encounter anyone in the house apart from slaves during the short walk from my cloistered rooms on the first floor to the bathing room a couple corridors and a flight of stairs away. Whoever this woman was she was easily as beautiful as me and I gazed at her body with a growing sense of lust. She had a goblet resting upon the side of the pool where she could reach it if she wished with a languid sweep of her hand. There was also a plate with the remains of what could possibly have been a light brunch prepared for her by a house slave. I could tell she was aware of my presence in the room, possibly from the soft footfalls, but she didn't care to turn around or acknowledge me. Very well, I would not say anything either. I loosened the sash belt and divested myself of the silk robe, letting it fall around my feet. The slip I wore fell to mid thigh – it would normally be worn as the innermost layer of clothing beneath a series of fuller gowns and robes. I preferred the freedom and feeling of just the light garment, and while in my rooms tended to wear it alone in preference to the cumbersome and confining garments that were expected of me when I ventured out in public.

“More scented oil, girl,” said the woman suddenly. She gestured with her fingers to a phial resting close to the pool. I smiled. Without turning around she had assumed I was a slave. She had heard bare feet and I suppose had drawn a natural conclusion. I could have simply corrected her there and then, but instead I decided to play along for a few minutes and then enjoy her discomfort when she realised the truth. It was simply a matter of seven steps to reach the phial. I removed the stopper and knelt down beside the pool's edge, sprinkling some of the scented perfume oil into the warm water. After all I was planning on bathing too, so in a sense I was merely preparing the water for my own use.

“Good girl.” She glanced briefly up and noticed the silk-like slip that was my only garment. It was I suppose modest for a slave, but then again a slave who was supposed to serve a Free Woman might indeed be dressed in more modest attire, as Free Women do not wish to be reminded of the sexuality of such girls. “You're not collared?” The woman stirred and slid round to where her back was against the pool side so that she could see me more clearly.

I smiled as I knelt there at the pool side with the phial of bath oils. “No, I am not collared.”

“I'll never understand Kurgus and his changing whims. All his other girls are in collars. Are you new here?”

“Reasonably new, yes.” It amused me to see how far this woman would go before she realised her mistake. I was brought here from Earth several weeks ago.”

“Oh, but of course.” She lay back in the water and floated as she regarded me. I could clearly view her flat stomach and her ripe, full breasts as she exposed herself like this to my view. It was a strange feeling that I still wasn't used to – the feeling of sexual arousal without the familiar sensation of having a penis that consequently grew erect. I felt as aroused as when I had been a man, perhaps even more so, but I still expected to feel blood rushing to my groin. “I know of Earth. Where did you live?”

“London, England.”

“I know of it.” She kicked with her feet and floated backwards. “Kurgus always said Earth girls make the best slaves.”

“Yes, he does say that.”

“What's your name, girl?”

“Felice.” Was she so stupid that she hadn't realised the truth yet, that I wasn't a slave? It seemed obvious enough to me.  

“You're a pretty little kajira but then I suppose you'd never have been taken if you weren't.” Now she turned on to her front and swam to the side of the pool. “Fetch me a towel, girl,” she said as she rose out of the water. It was probably about time to tell her that I was in fact free and simply here to bathe myself. There was a rack of towels close to hand, so I selected one of the larger ones and draped it around the woman's shoulders as she stepped up on to the tiles. Her soft skin was pleasantly scented from the perfumed water so that it carried the hint of sandalwood spices.

“Actually, I'm not. A kajira, that is.” My eyes sparkled with mischief as she turned round to regard me in surprise. “Like you I suspect, I am an agent of Kurgus.”

“Not a kajira?” She stared again at my skimpy slip-like under garment. “But the way you are dressed...”

“My rooms are less than two minutes away from this pool room. I simply couldn't face dressing myself in multiple layers of ornate robes to then remove them all again as soon as I got here. There are no men in this house in the morning, so there was no risk of being seen.”

“You are very daring. If a man had seen you...” she left the possibility unfinished. “But you poured bath oils into the water when I told you to.”

I shrugged. “I came here to bathe. The perfumed oil was for my pleasure as well.” 

“I see.” Now she laughed and shook her head as if enjoying a private joke. “Well, Lady Felice, let me assure you that if circumstances ever dictate that it is operationally necessary for you to impersonate a slave for a period of time, you will have little trouble in blending in and playing the part. You certainly fooled me.”

“I'm not sure I should take that as a compliment.”

“Oh?” Her expression was one of surprised innocence. “But it is a compliment, for deceit and subterfuge and a talent for exquisite impersonations will serve you well. I meant you no disrespect.”

“Of course not. And it's Lady Felicia, not Lady Felice, though it is Felice for short I suppose. In fact, just call me Felice. I suspect we're on the same side after all. You work for Kurgus?”

The woman nodded. “My name is Lady Jacinta. I've been in his service for many years. I've just returned from an operation in Schendi. So you're still in training? Or have you been operational yet?”

“Still in training, but I have a mission soon, in the Tahari. So I've been told.”

Jacinta nodded again as she set about drying her skin with the towel. “We lost two of our agents thee recently. You must be one of the replacements. It is difficult work in the Tahari, far more so than a comfortable posting in say Ar or Vonda. The desert is a strange place and the customs can be barbaric compared to the great cities of the Northern Gor. But surely Kurgus is not sending you out there alone for your first posting?”

“No, Kurgus told me I have a man called Seremides as my handler.”

“Seremides!” Jacinta laughed in surprise. “This must be his 'punishment posting' that we've all speculated on.”

“Punishment posting?”

“Yes, he made a serious mistake three months ago. He was demoted and told that his next posting would be under the command of one of Kurgus's female agents. As you can imagine, that's a humiliating position for any Gorean male. It hurts a man's pride to be told to take instructions from a woman. Kurgus must have been very displeased with Seremides to choose you as his assignment.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I meant no offence, it I just that you are a junior agent, barely trained. It makes Seremides's position all the more humiliating.”

“Wonderful. So I'll be relying upon someone who resents my authority?”

Jacinta tilted her head to one side and dropped the towel onto the tiled floor to reach for a long belted robe that hung on a nearby hook. “All men would resent your authority. It comes with the territory. A good agent learns after a while how to sweeten the pill and word instructions in such a diplomatic way as to ensure that the fragile ego and pride of the Gorean male isn't inflamed. Because there will come a time when you needs must rely on them for your safety.”

“What were you doing in Schendi?”

“Picking up a pretty agent of the Priest Kings. Her identity was supplied to us by the remarkable Udumi.” Jacinta must have noticed the flicker of recognition in my face at the mention of that name. “Ah, but you know Udumi...” as she stared in curiosity she swiftly put two and two together. “But of course, you were recruited by Udumi on Earth... or, no, wait, that's not it is it...” She stepped closer and continued to read what I hoped was an expressionless face. Then she laughed softly. “No, Udumi didn't recruit you. She enslaved you. You were brought to Gor to be a Kajira, but Kurgus had another idea for you instead. Am I right?”

“You're right. You read all that from my expression?”

“From subtle signals the body gives when it is under stress. Direct questioning often triggers a stressful state which make sit hard to deal with a skilled interrogator. Be glad I'm on your side. Come with me now. If you can delay your bath for an ahn or so, I would like you to view the fruits of my mission.”


“Lady Jacinta, once again you return safely from foreign parts. Truly you are my finest agent.” Kurgus crossed the tiled floor of the great hall and, taking Jacinta's right hand, brought it almost but not quite to his lips. I smiled beneath my veil as he was basically air kissing her, though he wouldn't have appreciated the implication associated with that Earth custom.

“That I am Kurgus, and behold, I bring you a gift.” Jacinta gestured towards a large sa-tarna flour sack that lay tied at the closure point. There was obviously someone inside the sack as it took the shape of a bound body and there were noticeable air holes cut into the hemp fabric to allow air to flow freely. “As you demanded, the secret operative that the Priest Kings had posted in Schendi: the Lady Coraline.”

“Excellent. Did her capture pose you any problems?”

“None at all. I befriended her with ease in the market place and three nights later as we were sharing a delightful ka-la-na together in her apartment, where she foolishly believed she was safe, I spiked her drink with the tassa powder you gave me. By the time she woke up she was bound by her ankles and wrists and stripped to her under garments. She wriggled furiously once she realised what I was up to.”

“You are a force to be reckoned with, Lady Jacinta. And then?”

“My brilliance extends further. The previous night I had ascertained that she owned a beautiful hardwood trunk in her living room in which she stored various papers and books. I placed her within it, injected her with the chemical we use to render girls unconscious for transportation between worlds, and then sealed and locked her in the trunk. I then simply arranged delivery of the trunk to our vessel in the harbour. By the time she woke up she was in the hold, sailing many pasangs away from Schendi. I had her watered and fed basic slave gruel twice a day and now here she is for your amusement and edification.”

“I continue to be impressed.” Kurgus lifted a small pouch and pressed it into Jacinta's hands. “Gold. For you. Buy yourself some pretty things and delight me with your choices.” Then he clicked his fingers and one of his armed thugs took a knife and cut a long vertical slit in the sa-tarna sack. The wriggling bound figure of a woman wearing a soiled and dirty chemise like garment was revealed. Her long hair was damp with sweat and stuck to her face. She had been crying and still had a stiff rod like gag secured between her teeth. Goreans are thorough and I knew that there would be wadding behind that rod too. The gag was loosened and as soon as it was removed, the girl sobbed with relief, drawing in huge lungfuls of air as she had no doubt been breathing solely through her nose since she had been placed in the sack this morning.

“Welcome to Corcyrus,” said Kurgus as he rolled the girl from the slit sack with the toe of his boot. “I will ensure that you are of considerable use to the plans of the Kurii. You will tell us many things that we want to know, and many things that we do not know that we want to know. And then you will be branded and placed in the pens to be trained as a kajira.”

“No, please, no...”

I felt slim fingers entangle themselves in mine as Lady Jacinta held my hand and squeezed it gently. Her head turned a little so that she could whisper to me. “I always find this bit scary. Rather her than us of course, for that is our fate if ever the tables are turned. Remember, she represents the enemy.”

It was a comforting feeling to hold Jacinta's hand like that. For her it was no doubt simply the sort of thing girls did with one another when they wanted to seek comfort and support. For me though there was the added sexual thrill of being close to a woman whom I had seen gloriously naked only hours before and whose beauty was intoxicating to behold. I squeezed her fingers back and whispered, “I know, I've had nightmares about my upcoming journey to the Tahari. So much could go wrong.”      

“Well then, Lady Felicia of London, England, Earth, perhaps you should spend some time with me before I am sent away once again. I could possibly serve as quite brilliant inspiration. Tell me... do you have any plans for lunch tomorrow?


“Nervous? I can feel your hand trembling.”

“I'm afraid so, yes. I'm not used to going out on the streets without some sort of male escort. I kind of wish Seremides was here with us. I'd feel safer. I only met him yesterday, but Kurgus has appointed him as my escort in Corcyrus.” We walked through the labyrinth of streets, side roads and alleyways that made up the main market quarter of Corcyrus, loosely holding hands together to bolster my confidence. The air was heavy with the pungent smell of spices and freshly baked bread and everywhere I looked there seemed to be a kaleidoscope of colour from the magnificent array of goods for sale.

“Well relax, Felice, although it's good to be nervous on Gor, we're reasonably safe in the main market during the day time provide we stick together. It's only women on their own who court trouble, which is why all the women shopping here today are in twos and threes. See.” Jacinta pointed to another two veiled women, dressed in the ubiquitous robes of concealment that was the standard mode of dress for women in public. They were buying freshly baked rolls from a stall vendor and gossiping about something that made one of them laugh softly. I could smell the bread from here and felt suddenly hungry. “Men aren't always required provided you stick to the public areas or streets that you know quite well. Don't ever venture into the back streets though once the sun begins to set. If necessary, pay for a public palanquin to carry you home. Always use a palanquin from a public stand. Do not be tempted to use one that might be patrolling the streets looking for custom.”

I nodded, knowing only too well my previous bad experience with a taxi that so conveniently stopped for me outside the fetish club.

“Oh!” I almost stumbled as, forgetting myself, I tried to take a normal size step and was brought up short by the hobbling nature of the confinement around my ankles. Jacinta paused for a moment as I regained my balance.

“It takes some getting used to, doesn't it? But better you learn to walk in them now before you head off into the Tahari. You want to be perfectly natural once you're in the souqs of the desert cities.”

I was very conscious of the debilitating effect of the small steps I could take and this was on account of the light length of silk ribbon that linked my ankles together, making it possible to only take a carefully measured stride of a type that is considered graceful for a woman in the Tahari. Some women in the Tahari would go so far as to use light walking chain instead of silk ribbon – one of the few occasions where it is permissible for Free Women to be chained without any suggestion that they are in fact slaves. Here in Corcyrus though where I was practising walking with such impediments beneath my gowns before I travelled to the Tahari, I had insisted on the length of ribbon rather than chain. I did not like the idea of having my ankles chained, even if loosely, in fact I was uncomfortable with the idea of being hobbled in any way whatsoever, but as Seremides explained to me, to do otherwise in the Tahari would be to draw attention to myself, for as an outsider I didn't possess the years of discipline to ensure I took naturally small measured steps whilst walking.

“Practice walking in the streets of Corcyrus with ribbons to find your most elegant stride,” Seremides had said yesterday, “but when we reach the walled desert city of Patashqar, custom dictates you will wear light walking chains.”

“I will not!” I replied in outrage, but Seremides dismissed my protests, for he knew that the one area in which my authority was allowed to be overruled by Kurgus was in the proper and dignified comportment and behaviour of free women.

“What is more, when you are in the Tahari you will be required to wear a light bell tied to your left ankle.” Again, this was apparently the custom for Taharian women who had not yet entered into Free Companionship with a man. The soft delicate chimes of the bell would be clearly audible as I walked, signalling to potential suitors of my availability. When I pointed out to Seremides that I was not travelling to the Tahari on behalf of the Kurii forces in order to find myself a Free Companion, he dismissed the matter again and replied, “if you do not bell your ankle, Lady Felicia, then men will wonder why you walk unaccompanied by your Free Companion. To keep a low profile, you would be expected to be accompanied at all times if you were no longer available. If you wish to walk alone, without me, then you will be expected to be belled. It will be so, even if I have to enforce such an instruction with a crop. Kurgus has told me I am permitted to correct any deficiencies in your role as a Free Woman of Gor in any way I find necessary. Will you wear the traditional walking chain and bell of the Free Woman of the Tahari? Or will it be necessary to beat you?”

“I will wear them, Seremides...”


I was still smarting from that exchange with the petulant man a whole day later. It is worth noting that slaves are often dressed in the same black haiks in the desert as Free Women to protect their skin from the ravages of the sun, and so to ensure that their status is always clear beyond doubt, they too are belled, but their bells are of course of a deeper more sensuous nature, clearly distinguishable from the lighter bells of an un-companioned Free Woman. The principle of being belled however remained the same for my new sex. It is also worth noting that occasionally a Free Woman of the Tahari might attach a slave bell to her ankle for a thrill and go about the souqs anonymously, drinking in the sense of trepidation and risk involved with pretending to be a kajira beneath her all concealing layers of cloth. I understood the appeal of such a thrill to so something forbidden as it was not unlike the thrill I used to feel when I stepped outside from my flat in London, dressed as a woman. That too was more or less taboo in my culture in the eyes of many people, and yet the the thrill of doing so was like a drug at times.

“How long have you been working for Kurgus, if you don't mind me asking?”

“Oh, many years now. I am much older than I look, Felice, thanks to the stabilising serum I was given when I first came to Gor. I'm something of a veteran for the Kurii cause. I may appear to be in my early twenties, but I was recruited as part of a first wave of agents from Earth back in the 1970s, and I think I'm the last of my class to still be operational on Gor. Lucky me.”

“You were brought to Gor in the 1970s? Have you ever been back?”

“No, I have no knowledge of Earth since 1975. Have I missed much?”

“Uh, yes... and you do really look like you're about 21. So you don't know anything that has happened on Earth since 1975?”

Jacinta laughed. “Is that so strange? Gor has been my home for much longer than the period I lived on Earth. I rarely think of that world any more except when I meet slave girls from Earth who remind me of my previous home. Is it very different now?”

“Well, I mean, you don't even know what the Internet is, do you?”

“The Internet?”

“This is a bit weird. You know Earth, but you don't really know Earth.”

“Did the Beatles ever reform? I was hoping they might.”

“No, no they didn't. That never happened.”

“Well, I would have missed it anyway. I still remember a few of their songs. But it does get harder to remember things like that without any contact with Earth culture at all. I suppose we have moon bases now and everyone travels around in flying cars?”

“No, we never made it beyond a few manned satellites. People kind of lost interest in space exploration after a while.”

“That's disappointing. I really thought we'd have a moon base by now.”

“What happened to the other women you were brought over with?”

“Let's see now. Sydney was sent to the frozen North to supervise the construction of a great wall to hem in the Inuit peoples. She ran foul of a Priest King agent called Tarl Cabot in 1978 and was captured by him. Evelyn Ellis was stationed in Schendi to pose as a slave girl in a paga tavern belonging to a man called Pembe. Hers was the most demeaning mission of course, though Pembe was in on the deception and I understand therefore that her duties in the tavern would have been carefully controlled so nothing terrible would happen to her while she worked undercover. She too ran into Tarl Cabot and was enslaved in 1979. And then there was proud, arrogant little Elicia Nevins, probably my closest friend during our initial training. I liked Elicia Nevins. She was stationed in Ar.”

“What happened to her?”

“The same. She ran into Tarl Cabot too, in 1977 and was enslaved.”

“Is this Tarl Cabot some sort of Gorean Jack Bauer? He seems to be everywhere and unstoppable.”

“So it seems at times, though I have no idea who Jack Bauer is. I knew a Gorean woman who was recruited in addition to us Earth girls – Lady Yanina – she too ran into Tarl Cabot and was ultimately enslaved. Where the women tended to go wrong is that a number of them actually captured Tarl Cabot to begin with. I know Sydney did. As did Yanina, if reports are to be believed. But then Tarl would inevitably escape and when circumstances presented themselves to him, he in turn enslaved our agents.”

“Remind me to simply have him killed if I ever capture him. The last thing I'll do is hold him prisoner. It sounds like he has a skill for escaping.”

“Well he certainly has a knack for getting captured, though the reports may be exaggerated.” Jacinta paused to examine the wares on a stall selling various robes of concealment for women. The fabrics ranged across the full spectrum of colours and designs but what they all had in common was they they were all full sleeved, modestly cut, ankle length and displayed no skin when worn. “I miss Earth clothes,” sighed Jacinta. “I miss just being able to slouch around in boot cut jeans and floppy layered tops. Where did you used to shop?”

“All Saints, Lipsy and Jane Norman.” I thought back to my first furtive  shopping trips as a man, feeling very out of place in London as I worked my way through the rails of clothes in the All Saints store near Covent Garden. The exhilarating feeling of looking through the displays of all those beautiful clothes, coupled with the awareness that the women in the store were probably watching me and wondering what sort of man would be buying women's clothes.

“Hmm, I was a Biba girl myself. Oh, and Halston dresses of course – I owned a few of those. Sometimes I wonder what the end game will be, assuming we survive enough missions to warrant a semi-retirement. I suppose there must be some equivalent of a desk job eventually, maybe running a station in some foreign city.” Jacinta sighed. “Or maybe in the end we all meet Evelyn's fate – one mission too many and then Tarl Cabot finds us and it's all over.”

“It must be horrible to be enslaved. I can't imagine it.” That was of course something of a lie as I had fantasised about it ever since adolescence. Logic told me though that the reality on Gor was nothing like the fantasy, and had to be avoided. “I suppose Gorean women are brought up with the culture of slavery and accept it as a possibility, but we're from Earth and that makes us different.”

“Hmmm,” Jacinta smiled beneath her veil. “Have you never imagined what it might be like to be chained to a couch, stripped, helpless, before a man who will fuck you like you've never been fucked before?”

I blushed and turned my head. “No.” She had no idea of course that as a girl I was a virgin. My body was pure and intact, having been created that way by stolen Priest King science.

“Truthfully? You must have wondered.”

“I try not to dwell on stupid bondage fantasies. It's not really me. To be honest, I don't really like men.” She had no idea what an understament that was.

“Oh Christ, you're a lesbian?” Jacinta laughed. “I'm spending my last night in Corcyrus with a lesbian? Oh Felice, don't go telling Gorean women that. This is on the surface at least, a very intolerant society when it comes to 'sexual deviancy'. Wow, girl, you really surprise me. Didn't the Kurii agents notice that when you were considered for selection?”

“I guess not. Or maybe they didn't care since I was originally marked for slave capture. I was lucky – they were looking for a new agent and I happened to fit the bill.”

“Wow, so until the eleventh hour you were going to be a cute little kajira. I can see that. You are very girly. I'm sure you would have been delightful in a collar and sirik.”


“I'm just fucking with you. But still... Felice the Kajira. We could get you a little slave camisk to wear when you go to bed.” She turned to point towards an adjoining stall that sold slave garments.

“Please. That's not funny. My life could have been horrible.”

“Just think, you'd have pierced ears by now and they would have taught you all the positions and how to dance. What do you say we get you a cute little chalwar to wear in the Tahari?” A chalwar, I should explain, is a slave garment common place in the desert cities. It resembles a transparent silken trouser like garment that is sashed and gathered at the ankles, in a similar fashion to harem pants. Typically the chalwar is worn by a girl in combination with a silken waistcoat style vest and veil. “I bet you'd look really hot in a chalwar. I might even go for you – you never know,” she teased. “I mean, I'm not a lesbian or anything like that, but who knows what I might do if you were posing in front of me in a wisp of slave silk. Life's for trying new things, yes?”

“You're making fun of me. I shouldn't have told you I don't like men.”

“I'm guessing you probably don't fancy me anyway. The only lesbian on Gor and she probably doesn't want me.” Jacinta laughed, though I could tell she didn't take the idea of the two of us together seriously, which was a shame because the truth was I'd seen the former Miss Rachel Evans of Oakhampton naked when she bathed in the public baths, and her beautiful body had taken my breath away. As a man I would have wanted her, and as a girl I still wanted her. And that was why I was blushing in her presence because unknown to her, yes I did really desire the gorgeous Rachel Evans, now more commonly known on Gor as the Lady Jacinta. Dammit, I would even wear a chalwar in the privacy of our rooms if I thought that might turn her on. Wearing it would certainly turn me on after all! But I had seen the way she had often gazed in secret at the rippling muscles of various Gorean men, and it was obvious to me where her tastes truly lay. What made it worse was the knowledge that she would not have had any interest in me when I had been a man either. She would have dismissed me out of hand in preference for some bodybuilding gym freak with a cocky swagger and a cheeky smile. I had seen girls like Rachel Evans flocking around the alpha males in night clubs, showing off their bodies in wispy little black dresses and four inch heels. Sometimes things on Earth mirrored the society on Gor after all.       

“How were you recruited by the Kurii?”

“It was late 1975 and I'd just turned 18 and gone to university in Oxford to read Literature and History. I was excited for the future but also frustrated with the status quo of England at the time. The system that is, not the rock group.” Jacinta smiled at my blank expression. “I felt that England was still incredibly class driven and needed to be shaken up a bit by my generation.”

“Punk did that.”


“You missed it. Two years later.”

“Oh. Well, anyway, I got into feminist politics in a big way and I stopped wearing sequin Biba tops and mini-skirts. I dressed very masculine in sweaters and jeans and I got involved with some radical groups at Oxford. University was very political in the early '70s. We were going to change the world, or so it seemed at the time. There was a young lecturer there who seemed very experienced in life, like he was much, much older, but he only looked to be in his mid-twenties. But his eyes were older, like he had seen everything life could give. He was a Gorean man, probably a hundred years old, but young looking from the stabilisation serum. It was the early days of the Kurii recruitment and I was earmarked for my beauty and intelligence – both being assets amongst female agents on Gor. He... impressed me.” Jacinta flushed red. “I confess I was quite smitten with him and giddy as a school girl when he seduced me one night after a Caravan concert at the Student Union Hall. Oh God, but he was good in bed. You have no idea the things he did to me that night. I saw him again and again and... I was foolishly in love. I felt alive in his presence and sex was out of this world. It turns out he wasn't supposed to have slept with me. The Kurii prefer their female agents to be virgins. But Goreans were new to Earth and it was hard to maintain discipline in those early days when they were on our planet to round up slaves and recruit agents for their networks. I think he was punished for I never saw him in Oxford again. Soon after that the Kurii kept pens of slaves in secret in expensive houses in the major cities such as London and New York and Paris to satisfy the needs of their male agents operating on Earth. I think it taught them a salutary lesson that Gorean men will always seek sex wherever they happen to be stationed. Anyway, I was recruited a month later. They told me that my lover was working 'far away' but if I wanted to I too could work for them there and see him again. I was young. I begged for the opportunity. One night I was drugged in my sleep and awoke on Gor.”

“Did you see him again?”

“Yes.” Jacinta sniffed and I could see a tear well in her eyes.


“He was a Gorean man, back on Gor. I was a Free Woman on Gor. He had access to slaves. On Gor I was hardly worth bothering with when paga slaves were available with a cup of strong alcohol for a copper tarsk. I cried and begged for his touch and he told me... he told me that I was a Free Woman and I should be ashamed of myself. He tied me to an iron ring and whipped me for shaming myself before him.”

“What was his name?”

Jacinta wiped away her tears and sniffed again. “You know his name. We both work for him.”


Jacinta shrugged her shoulders and gave me a forlorn look. “I'm curious about your friend, Evelyn Ellis,” I said to change the subject.

“My colleague. We weren't particularly close, though we shared a love of David Bowie, the works of Anais Nin and Pistachio ice cream. What are you curious about?”

“You like David Bowie too? He's...” I hesitated and decided not to mention he died this year.

“I saw him in 1972 at a concert with the Spiders From Mars. I had to lie to my mother that I was going round to see my friend, Linda, that night. I must have been 15. It was very loud, but I was probably even louder. I wore glittery eye shadow, lilac lipstick, a mini-skirt, a glittery Biba top, calf high white suede boots and a feather boa. I think I screamed through most of the songs because by the end of the concert I could hardly talk and I felt faint. But anyway, Evelyn...”

“Well, you said her mission was to pose as a slave in Pembe's tavern in Schendi? How far did she go?”

“Pretty far.” Jacinta shrugged her shoulders as she placed a few larma fruits into her wicker basket. “It was a demanding role, probably the toughest assignment for anyone in our group. She drew the short straw for it, figuratively speaking, though it could I suppose have been any of us. She permitted herself to be branded on the thigh for example for authenticity.”

“I can't believe she would do that! A brand is permanent.”

“It is, yes, but in the end after she was taken by Tarl Cabot I suppose the brand proved less of an inconvenience for her future life than she'd originally anticipated. It would have been difficult for Evelyn to pose realistically as a slave girl in a paga tavern if she had been unbranded. The brand site is usually visible on a girl. Men too would no doubt grope her as she passed by the tables serving cups of paga in the smoke filled gloom. They would feel with their fingers for her brand. Its absence would be noticed and questioned. Goreans tend to be very aware of small details of their surroundings, far more so than men and women from Earth. I think quite often we are given away and fall prey to the agents of the Priest Kings because of some petty flaw that perhaps we considered inconsequential. Seremides is therefore right when he insists you apply yourself to all the customs associated with a Free Woman. The walking chains for example are demeaning, but they are part of Taharian society. Without them you would attract attention, and then perhaps men might scrutinise you in more detail and their suspicions might be aroused. Remember, the Sultan of Patashqar is said to be paranoid, living in a heightened state of alert and wary of strangers. You can be sure that he has many spies within the souqs, spies who will be watching you. Your name would be put on a list as soon as you passed through the city gates. Seremides for example would find it impossible to operate in any way within the walls of Patashqar, which is why Kurgus deploys women as his agents there. While we are still routinely watched, it is only at a cursory level unless we do something stupid to raise alarm. The Sultan fears the subterfuge and treason of men. He does not fear women. More fool him.”

“And yet Evelyn would have had to learn the movements of a slave girl, the positions, the dances. She would have worn a collar and slept in the pens and kennels belonging to Pembe. She would have worn little more than a brief tunic. It must have been a hard role to adopt.”

“I believe that after the hours she spent working in the tavern, Evelyn would return to her safe house and there she would remove the collar, dress in clothing more suited to her preferences, and relax with the native agents. Her role as a slave was not full time.”     

“How exactly did Tarl Cabot enslave her?”

“I do not know. She grew careless perhaps. Overconfident. Who can say. Cabot wrote many scrolls of his adventures to be published on Earth, but I had never heard of them before I was recruited by the Kurii. I read one in training, in Gorean, to test my familiarity with the language, and it concerned a woman from Earth called Elizabeth Cardwell and her adventures with the Nomads of Gor. She was Cabot's ally for a time I understand. Perhaps one such scroll deals with Cabot's time in Schendi. Who can say. All I know is that pretty Evelyn Ellis is now almost certainly a passionate and enticing slave for real and probably serves some man well in the furs. I hope she has learnt to accept her new life. Consider Evelyn a cautionary tale, honey. Think of her next time you quibble over a detail that Seremides wishes you to correct. It could be all that keeps you from a collar of your own.”

“Have you ever been expected to pose as a slave?”

“Of course not. I would not be suitable for such a role. I do not have a slave's body.”

I smiled softly at that, for having seen the former Miss Rachel Evans bathing, I knew very well that she would fetch a high price if auctioned on the slave blocks within a city. Men would reach fever pitch with the bidding for her. Did she not know that? Did she really think she was anything other than slave beautiful?

“Have you received your orders yet?” I asked.

“Yes, but I can't talk about them, nor should you discuss yours when you receive them. What we don't know we can't divulge under interrogation. That should be obvious even to a novice such as yourself.”    

“Of course. I wish we could talk about our missions though. This is my first time and I find the uncertainty and danger unsettling. I dare not talk to Seremides about my fears for he doesn't think I should be here in the first place. He resents being second to me. I feel very alone out here, having to travel through the shifting desert sands. I would like nothing better than to return to Earth.” I could not of course bring myself to confide in Jacinta that I was also scared because I was a former man who now had a woman's body. This new found inferiority in status, physical strength and stamina did not come easily to me.

“That won't happen. The best you can hope for is to live out your life in comfort on Gor with the gratitude of the Kurii Warlords such as Kurgus. Do well and they will reward you. Fail, and, well...” she shrugged again.

“Am I likely to see you again?”

“Probably not. If our paths do cross again it may not be for many years and even then it may be that if we are both operational separately, we should not acknowledge we know each other if we do meet by chance.” She took my fingers in her hand and squeezed them in a rare, compassionate moment. “Our profession is by nature a solitary one. It's hard to make friends. I wish you well, Emma of London. Be safe.”

“I wish you well too, Rachel of Oakhampton. Please avoid Tarl Cabot.”

Jacinta laughed softly. “If I ever do capture him, I will put a knife to his throat. He always escapes!”

“I suspect he doesn't really exist. He's probably just an urban myth put about by the Priest Kings to scare us. Evelyn, Yanina, Elicia and Sydney probably all fell foul of different men, but in the official propaganda accounts it is always the super human secret agent Tarl Cabot who wins the day. He's the Priest King's bogeyman hiding under our beds.”

“Well, it's a nice idea.” Jacinta embraced me and kissed me on the cheek. “If I can offer you one word of advice, it is the cliched expression to trust no one.”

“Except you.” I smiled, and squirmed a little at the intimate and exciting touch of her body against mine as I felt a sexual thrill course through me. How I wanted this moment of an embrace to linger and perhaps lead to something else. For a moment I dreamt that I was indeed dressed in a chalwar and bangles, breathlessly alone with the beautiful former Miss Rachel Evans of Oakhampton in a harem alcove, a chain attached to my left ankle, the other end of which was fixed to an iron ring at the base of a couch. I suddenly felt a desperate yearning for sex that I had tried to ignore for many weeks now. My lips parted under the veil and I imagined Miss Rachel Evans of Earth brushing that veil aside, tearing it from the pins holding it in place, as she kissed me deeply. I wanted her so much.

“Especially not me, pretty little Felice. Especially not me. I am the most duplicitous of them all. How else have I survived so long?” She laughed self-mockingly, held me close for a moment longer and then stepped back. “Come now, we still have several ehn before we have to return home. Let us find a cafe where they sell cool drinks and we will watch the men in the market space hawking their wares. Who knows, maybe you'll find a man who excites you after all?” she said with a sly wink. “Perhaps I can corrupt you to truly appreciate the sculpted torsos and chiselled jaw lines of strong Gorean men?”

Little chance of that, I thought to myself as I took her hand lightly again and permitted Jacinta to lead me through the crowded side streets towards the cafe square.  

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