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:

A Slave Girl's Revenge (A Gor short story)

“Mistress is late,” I said as the cloaked and hooded figure of Lady Serafina entered the upstairs room of the seedy and run down inn that stood close to the Maze sector of the city. The woman’s hand shook as she closed the door and lowered the hood of her cloak to reveal a soft, beautiful Taharian face framed with long olive dark hair.

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?

Mistress of Gor Chapter Fourteen

Chapter 14: I am led naked and on a leash to the Slaver House of Banu Hashim


I was just another girl - just another girl being marched naked through the dusty sand covered streets of Patashqar, naked that is save for my steel collar, now with the added inscription of my slave name, Emma, and naked except for the slave bracelets locking my wrists behind my back; naked save for the iron belt locked around my sex, and naked save for the string of slave bells tied about my left ankle. I sobbed as the leash, the free end residing in the left hand of Seremides, jerked occasionally to remind me to keep in perfect step with my Master.

"Please give me my ta-teera back,” I sobbed. “There is no need to march me naked to the public pens!”

Mistress of Gor Chapter Thirteen

Chapter 13: I enter the House of Abdul-Hamid and learn the truth of what is required of me 

 
The House of the celebrated Taharian slaver, Abdul-Hamid, lies on Muqtadir street, not far from the Inn of Rashid off the square of Muntasir, on the street of Sariyah. It is one of the better and more respectable of the slave houses in Patashqar, and is one of the Seven ruling Slaver Houses within the city, run operationally by Safwan Samir – a man who enriched himself on the side by earning Kurgus's gold. I of course was a stranger to Patashqar, unfamiliar with the intricate layout of the maze of streets and side alleys, and so I relied on a young man, vouched for by the Inn-Keeper, to guide myself and Seremides to the building in question. The young Taharian man was a good guide, seeming to know every single street and alley within the Merchant quarter – no mean feat, bearing in mind that many of the streets do not display signs and that the quarters have grown over the centuries in a shambolic pattern that defies comprehension. And yet he unerringly guided us through the best route at this time of day, avoiding congestion points by taking short cuts through minor side streets. Many of these side streets I would not usually travel down, even with an armed man at my side - they are narrow and quiet with anonymous doors set into alcove recesses – but the young Taharian man was known in this quarter and so the inhabitants simply nodded as he went about his business conveying the foreign man and woman to their destination.

Mistress of Gor Chapter Twelve

Chapter 12: We arrive at the gates of Patashqar and deliver the Lady Sakkara to her Free Companion to be


The great gates of Patashqar stand as tall as twelve men and broad enough for eight kaiila riders to pass through in line abreast. It is said that 1,001 spear points guard the gates and that there are only two ways in which a woman may pass through into the city: firstly if she is a collared slave and secondly if she is with a man who is licensed and recorded on the city records as her keeper. In other words, a free woman may not enter Patashqar unaccompanied. This is in part to do with the nature of Patashqar’s main area of business – the slave trade in the Tahari. Seremides tells me that the custom protects Free Women from falling foul of the many slavers who operate within the burgeoning market quarter. The word quarter incidentally should not be taken to infer that it occupies geographically 25% of the city area. It is simply a descriptive term to denote a section of the city and in actual fact occupies over half of the streets within the walls. The slave pens themselves are enormous labyrinths with internal walls guarded in the same manner as the outer walls. Essentially each Pasha of the seven great slaver houses owns his own fortification within the city. All such fortifications pale in insignificance though in comparison to the Sultan’s palace that is built on a central mount overlooking the rest of the city. Access to this palace is via a paved road that winds up a steep incline. Along the way are watch towers holding archers capable of firing down on any force attempting to assault the palace mount. The seven Pashas of the great slaver houses may dream of usurping the rule of the Sultan of Patashqar, but while they remain divided it is nothing more than an impossible pipe dream.

Mistress of Gor Chapter Eleven

Chapter 11: We rest for the night with consequences


"Stop pressing against me, slut!” snapped Sakkara as once again the rocking motion of the sand kaiila caused the two of us to nudge one another. The space inside the kurdah was as cramped as I had feared it might be. There was no getting away from the fact that Sakkara and myself would be in close proximity to one another for several long days. If I could accept that, it soon became plain that she would not. “If I had my way you would be walking in a neck chain behind the animal!”

My mood towards her was less than cordial too on account of the fact she was now dressed in the full flowing gowns of a desert woman. The fabric was cheap and simply made, but the garments covered her body completely and gave her the appearance of a dignified Free Woman of the Tahari, whereas I hardly dared move in my snugly fitting pale blue ta-teera slave garment.

Mistress of Gor Chapter Ten

Chapter 10: We find sanctuary in the Oasis of Jallabad
 

To say the sand kaiila was on its last legs was an optimistic assessment of the poor beast's rude health, as it now lay on the ground by a water hole, gasping, exhausted, with blood matted around its hind leg.

“It will go no further,” was the assessment of Seremides. “The lance thrust that it received during the attack on our camp was severe. We are fortunate it lasted as  long as it did.”

“Then we're on foot?” This was desperate news indeed for no one could realistically travel across the Tahari on foot. It wasn't simply a matter of having to walk the distance between water wells, but rather the fact that it would be impossible to carry sufficient supplies, especially water, for the duration of the journey.

Mistress of Gor Chapter Nine

Chapter 9: We are attacked before dawn. Now everything changes

I reclined on a pile of soft velvet cushions and stretched my hand towards the silver bowl of sweet dates that a slave-girl belonging to Lady Sareena was holding before me.  A silken pagoda had been erected for the richer members of the caravan, a place in which we could eat, drink and converse in luxury. Captain Arturius sat to my right; a tall, young, broad shouldered mercenary captain, whom the caravan had employed to guard us all during the long journey to Patashqar. He was, I suppose, rather dashing and handsome. He was certainly strong.

“Lady Felicia, truly my caravan is blessed with your presence. It is rare that I get to conduct the passage of a Lady of such refinement, such grace, such intelligence and, I am sure, beauty…” remarked Paulo, the caravan Master.

Mistress of Gor Chapter Eight

Chapter 8: A Caravan to the Tahari. The Free Women play a game that is not to my liking

The caravan moved slowly, ponderously even, as if time itself was a relative obscurity that held no sway in the vast desert expanse of the Tahari. From one end of the line to the other it stretched perhaps ninety beasts long, but in addition to that number there were perhaps a dozen outriders on either flank carrying long spears, keeping careful pace with watchful eyes over the plodding hypnotic pace of the convoy of sand kaiilas. As animals go, the kaiila is a lofty proud silken creature with a surprisingly long neck and a steady gait. It acts as both beast of burden and warhorse to the desert tribesmen who unlike other Goreans, consider it almost shameful to travel or fight on foot. Like their riders they are fast, nimble and possess an incredible level of stamina. They are also broad and tall, typically measuring twenty-two hands at the shoulders. The men of course rode their kaiilas in proud warlike fashion, pennants fluttering in the Taharian wind as they scanned the rippling heat haze of the horizon for any sign of other travellers. Gorean men always stand or ride proud in their stirrups, something I have become very accustomed to noticing since I was first brought to Gor and transformed through alien science into the ravishing beauty that is Lady Felicia Fonseca Gebara Torres.

Mistress of Gor Chapter Seven

Chapter 7: I am alone with Brinn in a stable barn where no one can help me


“There is straw and empty sacking over there,” said Brinn as he slid a locking bolt on the inside of the stable door, securing it in place with a padlock. “Make a bed of sorts with it.”

I was frozen practically motionless with fear. Inside the stable it was gloomy, with light only filtering through a series of arched window openings high up on the walls, far beyond my reach, now that the large double door had been closed. There were a number of empty pens in which common riding Tharlarions might be kept, but this particular stable was now empty. It was, it seemed, more commonly used for storing large crates, of which there were many dozens, and serving as a quiet place for discrete liaisons between slaves.

“You will find slave perfume over there,” added Brinn, pointing to a flat crate perched on top of two small barrels to serve as a makeshift table. There was indeed slave perfume in a stoppered vial no bigger than a plum, along with some slave cosmetics, a bota of paga and a paga bowl. “Use it on your wrists, your neck and between your breasts.”

Mistress of Gor Chapter Six

Chapter 6: I speak my mind to Kurgus, which it transpires is a mistake


“I have a distinct fondness for sleen,” said Kurgus as he lifted a large chunk of raw meat on the end of a spiked pole and placed it before the great beast’s jaws. The broad, triangular head tapered to a whiskered snout with beady eyes and a mouth set with two rows of fangs that quickly jerked forward and snapped at the chunk of meat. It was taken whole within its jaws and pulled away from the pole arm in a single motion. Kurgus smiled as the great beast tore and snapped at the meat, quickly swallowing it in great bloody chunks. “I have named this one Minsk. I knew him when he was but a puppy.”

Mistress of Gor Chapter Five

Chapter 5: Kurgus gives me a mission. I am now very scared indeed

One of the things I have most difficulty with as I write this account of my adventures on Gor, is forcing myself to think as I did in the early days, and recollect only what I knew than and not varnish the account too much with the privilege of hindsight. Foreshadowing is a great thing in a narrative story, but too much of it can taint the truth, and the truth is I was very much out of my depth for a long time. I am not now the same woman I was in the weeks leading into months I have described so far. That much is an understatement. And yes, I do now think of myself as a woman, not as a man in a woman's body. My old life as a man seems little more than a dream at times, and I sometimes find it difficult to recall how it felt to have a penis and surging testosterone leading me astray. My emotional responses now are purely feminine. Gor has changed me I suppose, but maybe I simply found the freedom to be the way I secretly wished to be on Earth. Despite the advantages on Gor afforded to the male sex, I would not wish to be a man again. The thought repulses me. I am a woman. I love being a woman. I still do not understand why anyone would not want to be a woman.

Mistress Of Gor Chapter Four

Chapter 4: Jacinta and I attend the Theatre in Corcyrus. I enjoy tormenting a male slave called Brinn. I am such a bitch these days

I have been very happy these past few days in the company of the delightful former Miss Rachel Evans of Oakhampton. On this wild and barbaric planet I seem to have made a friend, and that.  coupled with the fact that the initial shock of capture has receded, meant I was free in a sense to enjoy the delights of being a real woman, albeit on a planet where women are second class citizens. I had always longed to relate to female friends as one of them, to be able to share in what must seem like mundane activities to more typical men - to shop, to meet for lunch, to gossip and giggle, to drink a little wine, to talk clothes and beauty tips, and for several days I had precisely that experience with the Lady Jacinta. It felt like the last days of summer, when you try to make the most of the unexpected heat wave, knowing that in just a week or two darker skies and the first touch of an Autumnal chill is lurking around the corner. Jacinta kept telling me she was expecting Kurgus to despatch her away from Corcyrus on another mission 'any day now' and so we made the most of our time, meeting up when my Gorean lessons with Tallia had finished, and exploring the city together. It was fascinating, and I loved that time and I think had my life continued in that vein I could have been very happy.

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.

Mistress of Gor Chapter Two

Chapter two: I awake in Corcyrus after a long drugged sleep, where I swiftly discover the limitations of my new body.

I dreamt such vivid dreams during the time I was encased within the capsule. It seemed perhaps that several lifetimes went by in my dream state during my gradual transformation and, I suppose, the subsequent space flight. I know now that the strange cube like building situated so incongruously next to the farm yard barn was in fact a space ship of some kind. I suppose like you I had always assumed that space ships would be sleek streamlined vessels or complicated Battlestar Galactica style designs, and so the thought of a vessel able to traverse deep space that resembled a cube hadn't crossed my mind. What I now surmise is that I was loaded aboard the cube like structure along with the other capsules, and unbeknown to the monitoring stations in Great Britain, the vessel had launched from the rural countryside, attaining escape velocity in a short space of time. I lay there in a drugged state, perhaps beside the capsule containing the beautiful Miss Elizabeth Bentley as the ship swung in an elliptical orbit around the sun. How long I was aboard the vessel is impossible for me to tell as I have no way of knowing what the Earth date was when I awoke on the planet of Gor.

Mistress of Gor Chapter One

Chapter 1: I meet the predatory Udumi Ayeola, and am kidnapped to Gor

“Pretty little kajira.”

That was it. That was the moment that all this began, in the final weeks of that tumultuous year in which the threat of Ebola, fundamental Islamic terrorism and the collapsing Russian economy dominated the headlines on Earth, when I first met the manipulative, single minded, ruthless and yet incredibly beautiful woman, Udumi Ayeola, who set me on the horrifying road to my current life as I know it now. It seems hard to imagine that a cold night in December, which at the time seemed so much like any other, was the spark that changed my life forever, and yet it was no chance meeting, for Udumi had been aware of me for several weeks before hand and, without my knowledge, had built up a comprehensive dossier of my most private life. I understand now that men working for her had acquired copies of all my Internet records, had in fact tapped my computer and had broken into my home, searched my personal effects, all without leaving a single trace in their wake. Udumi's people are professional and very experienced at the black subterfuge that they perform on her behalf.