A misogynist tale?
It’s clear to me now, Gor turns out to be this place where the society values only males and their homosocial relationships and women are subdued as sex slaves.
The first time I started to read the Gor series, I looked at it as something that would help me to understand the Gorean Sci Fi culture and in particular the Panther role in SecondLife. I’ve spent a good 5 years of my internet time in this virtual world, and though the Gor community’s popularity waxes and wanes, it’s always there.
Here’s a little fan-fiction based in John Norman’s world of sci-fi, beasts, heroes and sexism – Gor. This time, for a change, a forest girl grows to admire her hunter, finally she would willingly submit to her captor.
Slavers and hunters had gone after her band before, and always they had managed to avoid the slave-hunters. Sometimes they had even turned the tables, taking captives themselves, to torment and then sell. But this last hunter was craftier than the others. Over the weeks he had trapped her band-sisters, one by one, taking them away to be sold at auction. Perhaps it had been a mistake to burn down his cabin and steal his supplies, provoking him into a slave-hunt.
Or perhaps not. She had grown to admire him over the course of the hunt, as he had taken her band-sisters until she was the last one left. He was hardy, and resourceful, and knew the forest as well as any forest girl. His hair was black , but his skin was unnaturally pale. Not the nut-brown of a forest girl like herself, or even the tanned-leather-brown of the few men she had seen. Rather it was the color of dried grass, under the green clothing he always wore.
He moved easily despite her weight on his shoulder, wrapped in the net that had finally trapped her. His hands were strong, with blunt, clean nails. No, she could not regret the way her band had provoked this hunt. They had gambled, and their opponent had won fairly. Shewould not begrudge him his victory, no matter how complete.
Reaching the clearing where his rebuilt cabin stood, he set her down and drew his knife. He had already taken her own knives from her, of course. He cut away the net, then her clothing, and finally her boots, leaving her nude on the grass. “Crawl on your belly to the post, for chaining,” he ordered her.
She disobeyed, rising to her knees before him, lowering her head and extending her crossed wrists. “Master. I submit myself to you.” She had dreamed, occasionally, of a strong Master taking her as his pleasure-slave. She hadn’t dreamed that her master would be him.
He laughed bitterly. “No forest girl would submit so easily. Especially a leader of a panther girl band. Your band-sisters were annoyed enough at having to acknowledge me as their captor – and were glad enough when I sold them to that slaver. That high-and-mighty slaver of Ar. You mock me, forest girl.”
“No, master,” she said. “Please.” Silence stretched, and she began to tremble.
“Very well then, panther-slave,” he said at last. “On your belly, hands behind your back for binding. I accept your submission, until I can prove it false. And may the Priest Kings have mercy on you when I do.”
“Yes, master,” she breathed, obeying him. His strong hands tied her wrists with a length of slavers rope.