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:

The official 'Emma of Gor' map!

Map of Gor (Emma's version)

There have been numerous versions made to produce a map of Gor, and most of them can be found on the Internet with a few searches. For the purpose of the sprawling Emma of Gor trilogy ('trilogy' of course is soon to be a rather poor description of the number of volumes once book 4 begins to be serialised...) this is the map I use for my vision of Gor. It seems to me to be the most detailed and the most attractive looking, and so you can consider it an accurate and official map of Emma's world.

The Last Halloween

The Last Halloween


I used to love Halloween. It was always one of the big nights in my yearly calendar and wherever I was that day I'd make an effort to dress up, hang out with friends, go to parties and generally have a really good time. Now of course the day is a reminder of the very last time I saw my brother Eric in 2015 before he disappeared from our lives several months later. I blame myself for letting the months in-between slip away without checking up on him more. I was busy with work and I had that whole travelling around thing going on, working on the Doctor Strange film for Disney that was so exciting, especially since I'm a huge Benedict Bandersnatch fan, and I just didn't have time during the Winter to spend time and hang out with my family. You always think they're going to be there for you, no matter what, and then when one day they're gone you realise all the missed opportunities you've thrown away in the pursuit of your career.

The case is still open of course, though the fortnightly visits by the police support officer soon turned into monthly visits and then regular phone updates and now it's basically a case of we'll call you when we have something new to say. Mum has taken it really hard of course. She's gone into that same downward spiral that I saw her in when Dad walked out on us when I was a young girl. I keep thinking back to the Halloween night in 2015 and I keep thinking did I miss some obvious signs that Eric was unhappy? If I'd paid more attention would I have seen some indication that he was going to just disappear a few months later on?

Harem Girl of Gor Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen: Elysium Falls


The great Kur reared up onto its hind legs, brandished its enormous metal shield and battle axe in either paw and roared its battle cry. Macellus's single rank shield wall, in the great hall of Elysium, shrank back in obvious terror as the volume of the enormous beast’s challenge caused even the bravest man in the hall to reconsider his position. Behind the Kur came Kurgus, now dressed for war in a Greek style crested helm, cured leather vambraces and greaves, spear, shield and short sword. Two and a half ranks of formidable warriors formed a corresponding shield wall behind Kurgus and I knew that if battle commenced Kurgus would take his place in the centre of their line to lead it. All his men wore helms, greaves and carried full size hoplite shields and thrusting spears.

It was the first Kur that I had ever seen, but unfortunately it would not be the last. It was almost eleven feet tall, which I now know is much larger than usual, and must have weighed close to twelve hundred pounds. Its arms were much longer and larger than its legs, suggesting it was capable of moving very quickly indeed on all fours, and each one ended in a powerful set of non-retractable claws with six digits.

Harem Girl of Gor Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen: Red Metal


“I’m really not comfortable with this, Emma,” said Jacinta as she stood, naked and barefoot in the seraglio harem within Marcellus’s villa. A couple of Marcellus’s slave-girls lay around the bathing pools, resting before they might be required in the early evening after the sun had set. They stretched their lithe bodies like sleepy cats and picked at golden bowls of sun blushed dates as they regarded Jacinta with amusement. They could see she wore no collar and her thighs were clean of a brand. She was a Free Woman and therefore they normally feared her, but here she was in a scented seraglio behind billowing drapes, behind a locked door and barred windows, naked and obviously scared. They scented weakness, they scented fear and they scented a reversal of fortunes that excited them.

The harem chambers were comfortable and opulently furnished with candelabras, and divans covered with red satin damask, ornate mirrors set in fabulously engraved wooden surrounds depicting erotic vistas, marble topped tables set with silver chandeliers containing eight wax candles apiece, and windows shaded with red coloured glass. The tiled floor was covered with matting over which lay a number of rich looking embroidered carpets. Close by was a divan covered with red and white silk and gold thread.

Harem Girl of Gor Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve: The long road to Elysium


Jacinta held out with her hunger strike for another three days before starvation forced her to her knees before Brinn.

“There is something you wish to say to me, Jacinta?” said Brinn as he spooned a delicious bowl of kofta into his mouth. Her head was lowered now as she knelt before him in the desert sand in her pretty blue slave tunic.

“Your captive is hungry.”

“I imagine so. It has been almost a week, has it not?” Brinn had deliberately chained Jacinta each evening close to where she would always smell the food that I was cooking

“Yes, Captor.”

“What of it?”

There was such a forlorn sadness in Jacinta's eyes as she spoke her next words. “Your captive girl begs to be fed.” Jacinta held out the soft palms of her hands as Melinda had done that very first night when she had immediately begged to be fed.

Harem Girl of Gor Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven: I am furious with Brinn, for he is going to sell me in Lydius. I decide therefore to make him feel jealous, with unexpected consequences


We were three days out from Patashqar, and the men sat cross legged now around the burning camp fire in the courtyard of the caravanserai, drinking paga, eating meat, and talking about the reception that might await them on the Northern border of the Tahari, as I danced in provocative pleasure silks and slave bells for their entertainment.

“My plans are constantly evolving,” said Brinn as he sketched out a route in the sand with a stick. “But as they stand now we will reach the villa of Marcellus in just under a week's time. Marcellus is an old friend of mine who loves me like a blood brother and will almost certainly do anything he can to aid me in my mission.”

“Didn't you once steal his favourite Tarn, Captain?” asked Limidius out of curiosity. “I seem to recall he wasn't very happy about it.”

“The events you describe were blown completely out of proportion. That was many years ago and Marcellus has had plenty of time since then to reflect on my good intentions. By now he is probably very embarrassed by the way he threatened to torture and kill me and is desperate to make amends for his unreasonable temper tantrum. I will take advantage of his inevitably strong feelings of guilt towards me.”

“I see,” said Limidius doubtfully. 

Harem Girl of Gor Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten: Brinn faces a choice between certain death in battle, or slavery


I can hear it raining outside as I write this, the 24th set of pages relating to my time on the planet Gor. I’m more than half way through my story now and it occurred to me that my life prior to Gor may be something of an enigma to you – whoever YOU are. Until now I’ve thought of that time as an irrelevance, maybe because my old life as a man seems so much like a fading dream these days. When it does occur to me that I used to have body hair on my chest and a penis, it seems as incredible a thought as if I suddenly remembered I used to have wings and a tail.

Harem Girl of Gor Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine: The House on Haddiyah Street         


Brinn led me up a flight of stairs which climbed up the side of the building, two stories above the level of Haddiyah Street in Patashqar, and then on to a small balcony of sorts with just a single wooden door ahead of us. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor by his side as a reminder of where I was expected to kneel. The street below was quiet for this was far from the busy thoroughfares of the city.

I was dressed in a slave tunic, sleeveless of course, with a relatively modest hem line that reached half way down my thighs. Brinn had bought it for me in the market place the previous day, much to my surprise and he had commanded me to put it on.

“Thank you, Master,” I had said, happy at last to conceal my nudity from passers by on the street.

“Don't thank me – the garment is not for your benefit, Emma, but rather to observe certain standards of  respectability, for we are going to meet with a Free Woman tomorrow.” That Free Woman of course was a Kurii agent within Patashqar – the Lady Melinda – the woman whom Seremides had turned to to translate Erin's co-ordinates into a precise geographical location on Gor.

Harem Girl of Gor Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight: We make camp in the desert, on the way to Patashqar. On reflection, I may not have been quite as dignified as I had hoped to be


That first night by the light of a burning camp fire, Brinn fed me by hand, cutting slivers of roasted meat that he placed between my lips one at a time. I took the food eagerly for it was the best food I had been given in many months and I felt very hungry. I knelt on some blankets and rugs in the sand with delicate jingling bracelets on my wrists and ankles. The metal chimed softly whenever I moved. Aside from the decorative ornaments, and the earrings I wore, I was quite naked which was the way I soon learned my Master liked me to be in the evenings. Brinn had shot the animal that we ate with a hunting bow earlier in the day as we rode away from the Oasis of the Twenty Three Palms. He had secured me bent over the front of his kaiila saddle, with my wrists secured to a ring on one side and my ankles lashed to a ring on the other side. To protect me from the sun he had covered my body with a sheet of white cloth and tied it in place. It was a humiliating way to travel, but one I would soon get used to now that I was a slave.

Harem Girl of Gor Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven: My downfall is complete


The dried blood on my upper thighs was evidence of what I already knew - that I was no longer white silk. I lay now on my belly on the tiles of the alcove floor, the slave ring and chain still locked in place around my ankle. The length of white silk lay near the curtain where Seremides had cast it aside. It was no longer appropriate for me. In future if I was to be given pleasure silks to wear, they would almost certainly be red in colour.

You may be wondering whether I enjoyed being raped on that slave couch, and the short answer is no. The books seem to suggest that all women discover their 'slave belly' when a man (any man) rapes them. I wish that were the case, truly I do, for it would have made the ordeal bearable, but the truth is I was an unwilling participant, I was scared, I was threatened with extreme torture and ultimately death if I did not co-operate, and none of those things are conducive to me feeling aroused. My body was tight when Seremides forced himself into me and it hurt. To my shame and humiliation I had to pretend I was enjoying it, otherwise he would have sent me to my slow death in one of the narrow pits afterwards.

“You are very quiet, Emma,” said Seremides as he pulled his tunic back on over his body. “Do you not wish to thank your Master for teaching you what it is to be a woman on Gor?”

Harem Girl of Gor Chapter Six

Chapter Six: ' Tarn-Five-Elipse-Fathom-Eighteen-Cable-Nine'


I was dancing in the mosaic tiled room before the two men who conversed together as they watched me move. Aside from them there were two musicians in the corner providing the rhythm and melody for my dance. One sat with a czehar – a Gorean eight stringed instrument shaped like a large flat box which is held across the lap when sitting cross-legged and played with a horn pick. The other set out a beat on a small drum that was held between his legs. 

I turned my shimmering left thigh as I pointed my toe and moved gracefully, hands up around my breasts to then raise high in a flourish above my head as I turned fluidly before them. I felt the music through my body as I rolled my hips, swayed in time to the rhythm and danced, gliding across the floor in a rapture of abandonment for the pleasure of the men. I moved seamlessly from one enticing pose to another as my legs followed the seductive rhythm of the drum, causing me to flaunt myself, my breasts, my hips, my thighs, as I turned and span on raised toes, arching my back and turning with a look of wild abandonment to briefly meet the gaze of the men who wished to view me.

My eyes lowered submissively as I danced past them, turning once again to curl my wrists and fingers in a series of circles as I moved in a figure of eight, tapping out a counterpoint to the drum and the czehar with my toes.

Harem Girl of Gor Chapter Five

Chapter Five: Erin


I was dressed in clinging white pleasure silks as I danced before two men on mosaic tiles on the ground floor of the slave pen building that surrounded the open courtyard of metal grilles which in turn provided light and air for the dismal slave caverns below. It was the first time in six weeks that I had been taken up out of the cavern and onto the surface of Patashqar and the first time since then that I was breathing clean air.

One of the men I knew – he was the physician working in the slave pens of Banu Hashim, but the other man was new to me. He had short cropped hair, Roman style, greying throughout, with a similarly coloured short beard and he stood with the aid of a walking cane on account of the fact that his left leg was lame from what looked like an old battle wound. This sort of injury is quite common from war, as crippled and injured soldiers far outnumber the dead. My own father had taken a shrapnel wound in his leg when I was about three years old, which never healed properly, and had probably ended his military career. I remember my mother telling me with tears in her eyes one morning that, 'something bad had happened to Daddy, and he would be in hospital for a while.' When he did come home eventually it was with a set of crutches that made him look frail.

“She dances well, but what of it,” he said to the physician.

Harem Girl of Gor Chapter Four

Chapter Four: A Thousand Years of Suffering


I tried not to smile as Kima, the bully who had made my life horrible these last couple of weeks, wept floods of tears as she knelt in the training room to the left of Bahira. You’re not so tough now, are you, bitch, I thought to myself with a considerable degree of smugness. Oh, but this was wonderful. She looked like the most pitiful of slaves now, as if her life had practically ended.

As I watched, Bahira told Kima to open her mouth and then she pressed a sugared candy on to the girl's tongue as a reward for not struggling, resisting or screaming too much. The other girls around me looked worried and well they might be for any one of them could be next. I could sense that Kara was trembling beside me too. Would her name be on the list? Probably. Seremides had after all branded her. Now that I considered the matter it seemed likely that Seremides would not have requested an exemption on her behalf as he had so obviously done with me. For Kara would be a slave-girl for the rest of her life. Unlike me she would not be freed in a few short days or weeks once my mission here was complete. The collar, so inflexible in its cold steel, would never leave her pretty throat or, if it in fact did, it would only be a momentary respite while another collar belonging to another Master would be locked in its place.

So no, it was unlikely that Kara's name would have been removed from the list.

Harem Girl of Gor Chapter Three

Chapter Three: Our slave training begins in earnest


“Not good enough, Emma!”

The switch struck my thigh with a sharp crack, causing me to scream for the third time this morning. Tears welled in my eyes as I knelt on the floor in what I thought was a very good Nadu position. I wondered what I had done wrong this time.

“Head up!” The switch tapped under my chin and I raised it another inch. “Shoulders back!” Bahira now tapped my shoulders with the switch and I adjusted my posture accordingly. “Belly in!” The switch struck my slim belly. I hated her! There was nothing wrong with my belly posture! I sucked it in further, holding my chest firm in the process. “Why are you finding the most basic positions so difficult, girl?”

I blinked to hold back the tears as Bahira, our slave-girl trainer, stalked around me like a prowling Larl cat.

Harem Girl of Gor Chapter Two

Chapter Two: Kara and I enter the public pens of Banu Hashim where I am forced to fight the slave-girl Kima and where I gain a chain sister


I have been writing this account of my time on Gor for sixteen long nights now, by the light of the three moons, inscribing words on paper from early dusk in the place I now call home, and during that time I often speculate on who you are – that is, you, the person reading this account of my adventures here. I suspect you are a man, and for reasons I will not elaborate on just yet, I suspect you are also of Earth.

Am I wrong?

I think not.

More than that it is impossible for me to know. Are you young, old, powerful, poor? Are you a kind man? A gentle man? A man accustomed to treating women with respect?

Harem Girl of Gor Chapter One

Chapter One: The Floating Market of the Oasis of the 23 Palms

As I stood there in the dust, naked, in a collar and sirik chain arrangement, perspiring under the heat of the late morning sun, I remember thinking to myself how strange it was that there were only 21 palm trees growing in the so called ‘Oasis of the 23 Palms’.

The 'floating' market met once a week and like many markets formed around a desert oasis it broadly consisted of three tiers of merchants, arranged in three concentric circles radiating out from the water hole itself. In the centre, enjoying the luxury of the water facilities and the shade offered by the 21 palm trees, were the major slave trading families who dominated the trade in this part of the desert. They bought slaves in bulk and could usually undercut the prices of smaller traders. They employed professional soldiers to safeguard their stock and they wore ample signs of their wealth around their bodies. Despite the transient nature of the floating market, the inner circle of traders managed to erect their own stages and billowing silk pavilions.