The Emma of Gor Trilogy: An Introduction

The 'Emma of Gor' trilogy is a series of fan-fiction books set on John Norman's Counter Earth world of Gor. Chronologically speaking, they occur in the following order:

Barbarian of Gor Chapter Thirty Two

 

My breath had the rasping sound of a punctured aqualung, and I felt a tightness in my chest as if an anvil had been placed there pressing down on me. It was so hard to breathe. 

 

“You’re dying, Roland,” said Sally Reeve as she watched my face turn purple. “Well, I mean, we’re all dying of course, minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day – it’s the nature of the human condition, isn’t it? Ever since I was born I started to decay. Do you know that song?  But you’re sort of a hundred metres sprinter now, so close to the finishing line compared to all the marathon runners out there. The toxin is working its way through your body. Does it hurt?”

 

I sucked in some partial breath and felt my lungs burn as I did so. I couldn’t speak more than a word or two.

 

“I think it does hurt. Why didn’t you listen to me before? Women are superior to men in all respects, save for a few inconsequential physical traits. And I think I’ve just demonstrated that, haven’t I?” She leaned forward, not afraid of me anymore. “Will it be a little easier if I kiss you, hmm?” My lips were numb from the toxin, but I was vaguely aware of Sally kissing me. “I honestly will miss you, Roland. If it’s any consolation…” she laughed to herself in a self-conscious manner. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but I’ve thought about you a few times since the Inn. Can I tell you a secret? Just between you and me? Just before you die? Will you promise to never tell anyone?”

 

Another tortured breath. Another wracking spasm of pain. I tried to lift my right hand but it barely cleared the cobblestone paving slabs. It felt so heavy, so I let it fall. 

Barbarian of Gor Chapter Thirty One

 

And there she stood – the great walled city of Torcadino - the jewel of central Gor - if you believed the citizens of Torcadino. To the east were the Flats of Sarpeto, and if you ventured even further east you would then reach the mighty Voltai mountain range. Beyond those mountains lay the lands known as the Barrens, of which the less said the better, and we would not be going anywhere near there. 

 

“We made it,” said Felix as he slowed his pace. ‘Hai Corcyrus!” He raised his sword arm in a triumphant fist. Kayra, who was standing beside me, cheered. 

 

“Let’s walk through the great gates before we celebrate,” suggested Adam as he watched the thin line of travellers ahead of us passing in and out of the city. 

 

“You’re expecting trouble in the last three hundred yards?” I said.

 

“It’s my job to expect trouble all the time,” he replied. “This is the moment that will be the most dangerous for us. Our enemies might not know how and where we travelled, but they certainly know what our destination is. If you wanted to be absolutely certain of finding us, where would you position the best of your men?”

 

“At the entrance of Torcadino,” I said. 

Barbarian of Gor Chapter Thirty

 

“You seem to have a habit of crossing my path,” said Darian Athuk as he gazed at me. “First you were a kajirus, then you were an Outlaw. What are you today?”

 

“A slaver,” I said with some satisfaction. “We now share the same caste.” 

 

“I’m supposed to believe that?”

 

“My papers.” There was probably a trace of smugness as I showed him official papers stamped by the caste of Slavers in Corcyrus. The Tatrix had arranged these papers along with my papers of citizenship. It was an advance thank you for services rendered to her. 

 

“Congratulations,” said Darian, drily, without any trace of real warmth or affection in his voice as he handed the papers back. “Should I expect you to be an Ubar the next time I see you?”

 

“One can only hope.” 

Barbarian of Gor Chapter Twenty Nine

The play had concluded by the time I emerged back into the theatrical field. Now the stage was being cleared of its various props and makeshift scenery, and the actresses were no doubt readying themselves to receive the first of their amorous visitors. Not everyone had moved on yet. I could see maybe fifty to sixty men still loitering in the field, drinking and laughing. Behind me, the paga tent belonging to Rubin Clegane would continue to do good business. Another of the tent’s paga slaves hurried past me, skipping lightly on the balls of her feet to deliver paga to a group of men on my left. She was lovely, but she wasn’t Kelly Milford. My mind was focussed now on two direct questions – would Clegane sell Kelly to me, and, assuming he would, what would her price be?

 

I checked my funds. They were sufficient for day to day living, and living well, but Kelly would not be cheap. She was obviously an asset to the paga tavern, and by now many men would be familiar with her service and would visit simply to enjoy her in particular. One should never underestimate the value of an established paga slave. Men can be sentimental, returning time and time again for the same girl. Replacing Kelly ran the risk of turning away some of her regular customers. 

 

Torches and lanterns now illuminated the theatrical field and other fields beyond this one. The more extravagant areas also enjoyed the benefit of energy bulbs that provided artificial illumination many times more powerful than Earth light bulbs. But energy bulbs were expensive and most market stalls in the Fair wouldn’t stretch that far. 

 

I felt a yearning for Kelly despite my having already had her tonight. Putting her to use the once only made me want to be with her again. The more I thought back to our previous encounters the harder it became for me to accept I wouldn’t be sleeping with her curled against my body tonight. Her absence actually felt painful. Would she feel the same? I didn’t want to delude myself that I was in any way her Love Master, but there was no mistaking the emotions she stirred in me. My imagination ran riot and I conjured up in my mind all manner of nightmare scenarios where some other man was speaking to Rubin Clegane at this very moment, offering a pouch of silver to buy her. 

Barbarian of Gor Chapter Twenty Eight

 

Kelly fucking Milford… standing before me in diaphanous pleasure silk.

 

She had of course spilled the paga the moment she recognised me. In fairness, I might have done the same if I were in her place. 

 

“Kelly,” I said, as I gazed down at her. Her mouth opened and then closed in shock surprise. Those lips were perfectly rouged, as would be expected of a paga slave. Spilled paga slopped around on the tray, much to Felix’s anguish. 

 

I instantly remembered the train, the tent, our frantic love making back on Earth. I have enjoyed a lot of women since all this began, but I think Kelly had been the hottest girl I’d had so far. There was an unfettered passion that seemed to take control of her when she was aroused, and from memory she became aroused very quickly. It shouldn’t have come as any surprise that she had ended up as a paga slave. Of course she was a paga slave. 

 

“Our paga!” Felix cried. “Clumsy slave!”

 

“Please forgive me, Master,” cried Kelly, as she suddenly realised what had happened. This was bad for any paga slave. Such a girl did not risk spilling anything from the cups. If she did she would have to return to the paga tent to obtain replacements. She would be punished, if not immediately, because the tent was probably very busy by now, then later, after the tent had closed. In all likelihood the girl would be whipped and then caged. Paga slaves did not spill paga, not ever. It was the worst thing they could possibly do. 

 

“It’s okay, Felix, I’ve got this.”

 

“She spilled our paga!”

Barbarian of Gor Chapter Twenty Seven

 

The two ‘free women’ who took to the stage were of course luscious kajirae dressed in the type of theatrical garb that was common place to represent robed and veiled women. While they wore robes of concealment to a point, said robes were of cheap but brightly coloured rep cloth fabric and were cut high on the calves of the women, showing off rather more of the lower legs than an actual free woman would ever be comfortable with.

 

“I’ve bought some nuts roasted in honey,” said Felix as he returned from the nearby market stalls to flaunt a sweet smelling paper bag under our noses. Nearby men were walking around the theatre field beginning to light torches and lanterns that hung from poles hammered into the soft ground.

 

“What about our paga?” asked Adam.

 

“That’s coming. I paid an extra copper tarsk bit it so I wouldn’t have to carry the paga from the tent. I didn’t want to spill any of it. It’s a boisterous crowd and it’ll only get more rowdy once the actresses start to strip.”

 

Which of course they would. This was a Boots Tarsk Bit play, and that generally followed a predictable format. 

 

“Honey nuts?” said Felix as he offered the bag to me.

 

“Don’t mind if I do.”