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:

Emma dances for you all in the foothills of the Sardar mountains

 

(The following occurs after the events soon to be recounted in Gods of Gor)

 

“Hold still, Emma!” she was fidgeting like a wild thing as I draped, arranged, and secured the silks and gauze decoratively about her body. She would be dancing soon for the pleasure of my Master and his guests and I feared she was going to be distracted.

 

“Who is she?” Emma kept trying to get a glimpse of the blonde barbarian who lay beside our Master’s feet as he discussed politics with the other men. The girl was semi-nude, except for decorative bangles and a long piece of silk that fell between her thighs, as she licked and kissed his ankles and from time to time was fed a grape or two by hand.

 

“She’s just a new slave. Her name is Anthea.”

 

“Why is she with Brinn? I should be with Brinn?”

 

Other slaves regarded us with disapproval. Emma has a tendency to speak our master’s name, something no other girl would dare do, including myself, and they didn’t like it. Somehow Emma seemed to get away with it. My Master didn’t seem to notice or care.

Emma models new hair and new slave garments under Chloe's supervision

Greetings again, kind masters, and gentle free women. It’s Chloe again, Taharian slave girl, First Girl of Brinn of the Sardar, and Trainer in Chief of the very best slave coffles in northern Gor!

 

At the risk of getting into spoilers, I wanted to just say that the Master and I are back from our hair raising adventures in the jungles east of Schendi, along with a small coffle of slaves, and you’ll read all about them soon in the serialised book, Gods of Gor, which follows on from Ubara of Gor! Yes, I know you’ve been waiting a long time for that epic story, but a certain blonde barbarian has been taking her time getting it all down in writing. I’ll be doing the pictures, but I need to see the writing first. 

 

The biggest spoiler of course is that we didn’t die! 

 

Yes, we’re still alive at the end of it!

 

What a surprise! 😉

 

I mean, it was dangerous and all. Of course it was. We discovered a decaying, lost city in the deepest jungle with two warring Taluna tribes fighting through the ruins, and all sorts of exciting things happen, including meeting Emma’s father again, and there’s her sister kidnapped from Earth and trained as a slaver in Schendi, which is the reason we sailed down the river in the first place, because she’d gone missing, and we had to find her, but my Master has told me not to spoil the story for you, so I wont.

A Demonstration of a Paga Serve under Chloe's supervision

 

Tal, handsome masters, and gracious mistresses. My name, as always is Chloe, and I am the First Girl of the estate of the mighty Brinn Asssante. Please allow me to introduce Nadia who kneels on the tiles before you now. 

 

I have been First Girl and head trainer now for a number of years and during my time I have seen a large number of slaves come and go on the estate, for my Master buys girls at random like Earth men might collect vinyl records. Obviously the estate can only support so many slaves, and so periodically (once or twice a year) there is a cull and excess girls are taken by wagon, their ankles shackled to a central bar, to be sold in the nearby markets found in the foothills of the Sardar mountains.

 

I confess it is always a nervous time for the girls on the estate. They dread the moment coming and seem to redouble their effort to be found pleasing. Suddenly they are all begging for extra chores and displaying themselves before the guardsmen who serve my Master, with a level of enthusiasm never before seen in such wanton sluts. 

Outcast of Gor Chapter Thirty Eight

 

This could easily be the Tatrix of Corcyrus standing before me, stripped and ankle braceleted, her hair unbound, and her voluptuous curves garbed only in a gauze like wrap of fabric that hung loosely from her shoulders. 

 

But such a thought was clearly ridiculous. The Tatrix of Corcyrus would not present herself in my chambers late at night, alone, vulnerable, in the guise of a captive woman of Isurium.

 

I walked towards this woman, wishing the light was better. 

 

“You are the Lady Tulia Fava?”

 

“I am.” She folded her arms about her upper body and refused to look at me. She struck a haughty pose that was perhaps intentionally provocative and challenging to a man.

 

“Lower your arms. You are not to cross them again in my presence.”

Outcast of Gor Chapter Thirty Seven

I was permitted, within certain limits, to explore the inner palace at my leisure. Occasionally I might roam too far and find myself confronted by guardsmen who, having been appraised of the circumstances of my residency, would politely direct me away from the doors that presumably led to the outer palace and the streets beyond the plazas and surrounding stone walls that were forbidden to me. 

 

The architecture both inside and outside the palace walls resembled certain features of the classical Renaissance. Crow-stepped gables, porticoes and architectural decorations were carved in stone. Oak and dark woods, coffered ceilings and wooden panelling with divisions, facets and panels were found in abundance. These sometimes had painted or inlaid motifs of elaborate painterly detail and exquisite brushwork rendering. What furniture there was (Gorean interiors can be very minimalist in that regard) appeared in freestanding form, with chests often featuring rich pictorial carvings, heavier tables with baluster legs, and easily movable furniture of a simpler nature such as trestle tables and benches. The furnishing, on the whole tended towards a rectangular profile.

 

My feet brought me to a grand library with recessed alcoves and wooden frames designed to hold tens of thousands of scrolls. Being largely illiterate, I could only gaze at this vast literary marvel and shake my head with regret. Scribes busied themselves between the heavy racks, filing, cataloguing and archiving various papers. They spared me little attention, except if I found myself standing in their way, which might prompt some sounds of indignation and a degree of ill-mannered tutting. 

Outcast of Gor Chapter Thirty Five

“I’m just processing that,” I said. “Where I come from, a mother would be grateful that a man had saved her daughter’s life.”

 

The Tatrix was about a foot shorter than me. Her robes were bright, rich, and very expensive. She looked regal as she regarded me, with her rat like First Minister, Laskar Tagaris, standing close by her side. He seemed to frown each time I spoke, as if no matter what I said, he didn’t think it was appropriate speech to be directed at his regal Tatrix.

 

“There is still time to have him killed, your Grace. With all due respect, I have a couple of men on standby. They are professional stranglers from Schendi. It will be quick and relatively painless.”

 

The Tatrix brushed aside the suggestion with a languid sweep of her left hand.

 

“My rule is built on the principles of honour,” she said. “Without honour, my rule means nothing to my people. Already they talk in the markets and the paga taverns of what occurred in the gardens of Caphius. Word has spread. Men ask who this man was, and where he is now. They know he was taken by guardsmen. They enquire after his well-being. They ask whether he is to be honoured.”

 

“Idle chatter,” suggested Laskar Tagaris. “The babbling of inconsequential fools. They will soon grow distracted by other news. With your permission, your Grace, I have already arranged a number of topical issues that my agents are poised to spread like wildfire through the paga taverns. Paid tongues will quickly wag with alacrity! Within a couple of days the simple rabble will be obsessed by these new matters, forgetting what transpired in the market and gardens of Caphius a week ago.”

Outcast of Gor Chapter Thirty Two

 

And so, this was the day when my life changed dramatically once more. It was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or perhaps the right place at the right time, depending on how you look at it. Whatever, today was the day when my life was destined to finally have some meaning on this planet. 

 

But I’m getting slightly ahead of myself.  

 

One of the things recommended by the caste of slavers is that a master should control and regulate the orgasms permitted to his slave. 

 

“Oh! Please! Please, Master, I beg you!” Clara writhed helplessly in my arms as I looked deep into her eyes. Her wrists were tied tightly to two separate slave rings, but other than that she was free to wriggle and moan to her heart’s content.

 

This of course assumes that a master is capable of reading the tell-tale signs in his slave’s body, and is able to determine when she is getting close to a possible climax. This knowledge takes time and patience and some effort on the part of her master, requiring him to know his girl, to understand the exquisite responses her body is capable of. But then, part of the pleasure of owning a girl is to know her completely. If you own a girl, you soon find you develop a keen interest in assessing and understanding all her quirks and mannerisms. She is yours, after all. You would wish to explore what she is capable of, in much the same way you would want to push the limits of an expensive sports car you had bought. 

Outcast of Gor Chapter Thirty One

 

“Ten days ago the Governor of Isurium threatened me with news that the legions of Cato Marius had entrenched themselves to the south of the river Agosta, and that they would advance in good order to join with the legions of Castus Prinium, and push deep into Corcyrian territory.” Aliyyah gazed at her people in the light of the burning torches that surrounded the plaza, as she spoke clearly and powerfully. “I was ordered to surrender. Surrender, he said. The message was delivered to me in the form of a scytale ribbon tied in the hair of a whipped slave who had once been the former Lady Farzenah of Corcyrus – a woman who had been claimed by the last levy of our Free Women that our former Tatrix had permitted in this glorious city – and also a woman who had been my friend before I had been blessed with your faith in me. It was intended as both an insult and a threat. It was the last ever levy of our Free Women, for I have refused to submit to the yoke of Argentum, and I have refused to place any more of our brave Free Women in Argentum collars. The Governor told me that I was but a woman – that my right hand was weak - and that the legions of Argentum are invincible. Invincible, he said. He told me he would be merciful; that General Cato himself would spare my life and that of my daughter, and that we need only submit to the collars of Argentum, on our knees, with our heads down, kissing the boots of Cato of Argentum.” She paused, letting those words sink in to the assembled thousands who lined the plaza. “He ordered me to kneel and bend my head in submission to the throne of Argentum. I told him that he was right to state I am but a woman. I know my limitations. I know my place. I know how physically frail I am.” She raised her right hand high in the air. “This hand is obviously not the right hand of a man. This is not the right hand of a warrior. I know who I am. I know that men are far stronger than me. I do not doubt that. But you and I know another truth. This is NOT my right hand.” She paced back and forth along the length of the twentieth step. “My right hand is General Linus Trillium of Corcyrus! My chosen commander! The man I have entrusted with the security of our glorious city! HE is my true right hand, and I told the governor, that where my right hand brandishes a blade in the name of Corcyrus, there the legions of Argentum will be scattered like wheat before the scythe!”

Outcast of Gor Chapter Thirty

 

“Uh-lee-yuh! Uh-lee-yuh!” 

 

The crowd was shouting her name, now – the name of their Tatrix: Aliyyah Mercator. We had arrived early, and as the plaza quickly filled up, I could understand why. She was attracting a huge crowd. As the sun set overhead, a thousand long pole torches were lit around the square, bathing the palace plaza in flickering light. It seemed to me like some ancient Roman take on the Nuremburg Rally.

 

A line of warriors with shields and spears stood at the foot of the one hundred and one steps that led up to the front of the palace. At intervals of twenty five steps, there was a flat platform where a man or woman might stand and address the milling throng, choosing just how high above the crowd he wished to be. I could see the large double doors to the palace courtyard were swung wide open. There was a sense of anticipation as the crowd watch closely for any sign of movement that might be the Tatrix emerging to address her people.

 

I stood beside the Lady Herminia. I was her escort tonight, and it was my duty, for I supposedly shared caste with her, to ensure her safety. I doubt she could see much. Like most Gorean women, she was far shorter than a man. If you’ve ever been to a festival or a stadium Rock gig with a girlfriend, you will understand the frustration of your girlfriend as she complains bitterly that all she can see are the backs of the men standing in front of her. 

 

“Uh-lee-yuh! Uh-lee-yuh!” 

 

The Tatrix seemed popular. There was no doubting that. 

Outcast of Gor Chapter Twenty Six

 

Sometime around the eleventh ahn I was back braceleted with my wrists in slave steel, and conducted by two men to a tent that had been set aside for my mistress, the Lady Savanna of Argentum, or Kelsee, as I still liked to think of her. 

 

I had gambled that I could march boldly into this slaver camp and save Kelsee from the brand, but I had lost everything in the process. Kulai, my so-called Free Companion, in my eyes at least, if not the law’s, was now a slave to the same woman as me. She would hate me now. I had lied to her and it was my fault she now wore a steel collar and had a brand seared indelibly into her thigh. How could she not hate me?

 

I was naked, and a steel collar was now locked about my neck. It was made of iron and far heavier than the decorative, enamelled, pretty collar I had worn in Argentum – the collar that had so clearly marked me as the personal silk slave to a Lady. 

Introducing the Tatrix of Corcyrus

 

Also landing in my inbox over the last couple of days is the first concept art for the defiant Tatrix of Corcyrus: Aliyyah Mercator, who will be an important character, appearing soon in Outcast of Gor, and then in the third book in the Roland Martell trilogy: Barbarian of Gor.

 

This is the woman who has dared to start the war between Argentum and Corcyrus; the very same woman that Claudius, the Ubar of Argentum, has sworn will be stripped and collared on the marble steps of her own throne room, dragged naked through the streets of Corcyrus in chains, to be whipped before her cowed populace, before being brought back to Argentum for ceremonial impalement on the city walls.

Chloe’s book cover project continues!

 

Yes, lots more lovely Chloe art has been kneeling perfectly in nadu in my mail box over the past week or so. I wanted to showcase it in a post because most of you might not notice when it goes to replace stock clip art or old covers on past posts buried deep in the blogger inventory of Emma tales. 

 

First up is a series of new book covers that will comprise a new ‘header index’ of the all the accumulated works to date, along with details of narrative chronological order and publication order. 

 

Feast your eyes on the latest fruits of Chloe’s labours!

Chloe introduces the new slave girl, Kelsee (formerly Miss Chelsea Savannah Frick)

 

Well, kind masters and gentle mistresses, it’s been a while, but we do have some new girls to show off to you. Cassie is being dressed in one of the side rooms as we speak, and will be stepping out shortly, but in the meantime I thought I’d introduce you to the lovely Kelsee. Now Kelsee is rather new to her slavery, and…

 

“This is a mistake! I’m not a slave! What are you doing! This is a slave display! I told you I’m not a slave!”

 

Ah, here she comes now. Accompanied by one of the master’s guardsmen. I do apologise for her outburst, kind masters and gentle mistresses. We don’t ordinarily suffer from tantrums like this.

 

“I said I’m not a slave! I’m not! Ohhhh!”

 

Well, hello Kelsee, so glad you can join us on the slave platform. Be careful, you almost fell when you were pushed up the steps by that guradsman. 

Chloe’s book cover project continues!

 

Yes! There are more book covers! 

 

I’ve always said, you know when you’re a proper author, because your books get new edition covers every few years. 😊

 

The latest crop of covers from Chloe provide art for Panther Girl of Gor, Dunes of Gor, Slaver of Gor, and Outcast of Gor. And there’s a new ‘header’ book cover for the bibliography listing (‘Emma, Slave of Gor’) as well. And of course we're still using the classic font from the British Gor books of the mid seventies to mid eighties. I don't think the American or European editions ever used that font? Correct me if I'm wrong.   

 

Here they are, in all their splendour. Click on the pictures to enlarge them. 

 

I’m a very lucky writer. 😊

Secrets of Gor Chapter Twenty Six

 

Day 14 on the journey to the Northern Forests

 

I had never seen so many slaves before, at least not in one place. Everywhere I looked there were kajirae going about the marketplace, shopping for their masters, or simply scurrying past, barefoot, on errands. They all wore collars, short skirted tunics - sleeveless, of course, like my own – and seemed comfortable in their surroundings. What I rarely saw was Free Women. There was one – a lone woman who hurried past with short, quick steps, bundled up in her layers of robes and veils, but she did not walk with the usual confidence of the Free Women I would see in my own city of Vonda. No, she seemed only too aware of how heavily outnumbered she was by kajirae in this city. A lone Free Woman in the midst of eighty or so kajirae is a strange sight to behold. Some of the kajirae watched her hurry past, and they laughed amongst themselves, sensing her vulnerability perhaps. Surprisingly, the Free Woman made no attempt to admonish these laughing kajirae. Perhaps she had tried in the past, but had quickly learned how futile any such interaction might be. For the men in the market square gazed at her in much the same way that the kajirae did – as an oddity, one rarely seen, and one only barely tolerated.

Chloe’s book cover project

 

As well as labouring on the Secrets of Gor chapters, Chloe has begun reworking covers for all the Gor novels published on this website. Since she began illustrating my stories many years ago, her software has become more sophisticated in leaps and bounds, to the point where she decided it was high time to revisit and replace her old covers and create ones for books that didn’t previously have covers (often because they were books she didn’t illustrate). It also offers a chance to use the famous title lettering that appeared on the classic 1970s/1980s UK editions. If you have any of the UK Gor books from the mid to late seventies, you’ll recognise the font immediately. When she’s finished, the covers will form a new bibliography of all our work on the top header section. Every book will have a cover illustration and supporting text details, listed in chronological order, but with side references for the order they were written in, also.

Secrets of Gor Chapter Twenty Five

 

The man settled down into the snug, facing Sadric across the table. He was a frontiersman, bearded, dressed in warm garments, perhaps a woodsman by trade.

 

“I am Tarvinn the Tracker. For ten copper tarsks a day I can guide you through the forest safely, for I know the old tracks, the ones long forgotten, the ones that even the Panther girls do not use.”

 

Tarvinn was the fifth such man who had spoken to us over the last couple of days. I knelt beside Sadric, or rather, lay beside him, gazing up at Tarvinn. He seemed distracted for some reason that probably had nothing to do with my semi-nudity. I wore a green cloth skirt about my hips, heavy bangles on my wrists, a costume necklace that dangled low between my breasts, and large hooped earrings. My breasts were exposed to the man’s view as he discussed employment with Sadric. I smiled at this as I lay my arms about my Master and kissed him at the base of his neck. 

 

“Your slave girl is very pretty,” he added as he shifted slightly where he sat.

 

“Yes she is,” said Sadric with a grin. “She pleases me very much.”

 

“Let me please you some more, Master,” I said softly. 

Secrets of Gor Chapter Twenty Four

 

Sadric found a stable that would take in and guard his tharlarion for what was quite an exorbitant price.  

 

“Twenty copper tarsks? Really?”

 

“You’ll find most things are expensive out here,” remarked the bored stable hand, who seemed to have little interest in the art of negotiating. Many of his stable pens were full, and in fact some of them were rented for occupancy by men who were passing through the area and couldn’t afford the even more expensive rates for human lodging. “Men come here to earn good money, but soon find they are spending it all quickly enough. Paga, food, lodging – none of it is cheap. You are paying for security for your magnificent tharlarion, and all your belongings. Note the two large violent looking men with thick wooden staves who will guard your property day and night. You may, of course, choose to save money by simply tethering your tharlarion on the street, tied to a hitching post. Who knows, perhaps he will still be there when you return from the paga tavern?”

 

“The possibility is remote,” replied Sadric.

Secrets of Gor Chapter Twenty Three

 

It is 2,200 pasangs from Vonda to the border of the Northern Forest, close to the city of Laura. 

 

2,200 pasangs.

 

Believe me, I felt every single one of those pasangs.

 

We averaged thirty pasangs a day, with Marissa and myself alternating between walking and riding. It took seventy five days from the afternoon when we left the walls of Vonda to reach the logging camp of Port Kar.

 

Seventy five days in a steel collar, with a kef brand on my thigh.

 

The passing of time changes a girl.