Blog Schedule and Contributions

 (edited March 22nd, 2026)

.Stories tie back to Stories on EmmaOfGor.Blogspot.com in particular Steel Worlds Inc by Emma of Gor and Banks of the Bighorn by Tracker, and The Paga Diaries by Arizona Wanderer. The titles in this post link to the stories

Recent Posts:

Tale of Drysdale House (12) Storming the Castle

The Paga Diaries (41) by Arizona Wanderer

A Mere Fleabite, a Time Changes Everything Story, Part 2 of 3 by Peony D. Beckside

The Paga Diaries (40) by Arizona Wanderer

A Mere Fleabite, A Time Changes Everything Story Part 1 of 3 by Peony D Beckside

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Tales of Drysdale House (12) Storming the Castle

 

Tales of Drysdale Hall Tale 12

The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas

 

It was 4AM, I was at the wheel of the Queen  Conch as she plied the Pacific Ocean south from the mouth of Patroon Creek towards San Francisco. All the others were asleep; it had been a long day. Smith and the short swarthy sailor had met us there at dusk and brought us safely aboard. I had slept until just before three in the morning, when the silent sailor had wakened me to take a watch at the wheel. In the wheelhouse, he had pointed out the course and muttered that Smith would relieve me at seven.

The Paga Diaries (41)

 

41 Sharing Mena

“Brand,” Mirus said to Mena, who was kneeling in nadu next to me.  She looked at me confused and then at Mirus.

“Must a command be repeated slave?” he asked firmly.

“No Master! This slave does not know that command.”

“Rise up on your knees, keeping them spread wide. Now extend your left leg out. Pull the hem of your tunic high up above your brand, displaying it to me,” he said. She complied quickly, following his instructions immediately as they were given.

A Mere Fleabite A Time Changes Everything Story Part 2 of 3

 

By Peony D. Beckside

Chapter Three: Impossible!  Unbelievable!

 

The men are so strong.  Big and muscular, brawny if you like.  No sign of excess fat.  I watch as two of them, under the command of the rat Kyril Flavius, remove the girl from each of the cages.

The Paga Diaries (40)

Visitor

 I was startled by a loud knocking on the door.  I had been putting Mena through slave paces, teaching her to assume positions when commanded.   I was letting her recover her breath , giving her a break while in the all fours position.  Her body was flushed from exertion.  I had taken my tunic off and was kneeling behind her, her ass pointing at me, inviting.  I had put my finger to her wet opening when the knocking began.   Mena turned her head, looking behind  at me and appeared  frightened.  The loud knocking stopped.  No one ever knocked on my door.

A Mere Fleabite (A Time Changes Everything story) Part 1 of 3.

 A Mere Fleabite

Peony D. Beckside

Chapter One: Leg-work

 

I’m not supposed to.  Chief Brainerd had made it quite clear that I, Detective Hannah Greenwood, was to hand over all documentation with regard to the attempted abduction of Ginger Stowell, by the self-professed slave Alyena and as yet unidentified accomplices.  The likelihood that Alyena’s owner is the one who gave her the order to abduct Ms Stowell and/or to collect her is strong, but not yet confirmed.  Chief Brainerd also ordered me to wipe all related computer files.

Time Changes Everything (2 of 2)

 

Time Changes Everything

Peony D Beckside

With thanks to John Norman for creating the basic concepts of the world of Gor and those who have dealings with it.  Also to Emma of Gor for her ideas regarding the control at a distance, of kajirae on Earth,

 

 

Chapter Four

 

I’m used to waiting.  For a slave, waiting is inherent in our lives.  Masters do as they will, we must accommodate that.  It is not our place to demand that Masters be at our ‘beck and call’ it is ours to be at theirs.  A Master will rarely wait for a slave to do something, unless he’s feeling generous.  We can never be tardy, not even in beautifying ourselves for our Master’s pleasure.

Time Changes Everything (1 of 2) by Peony D Beckside.

 

Time Changes Everything

Peony D Beckside

With thanks to John Norman for creating the basic concepts of the world of Gor and those who have dealings with it.  Also to Emma of Gor for her ideas regarding the control at a distance, of kajirae on Earth,
 

Chapter One

 

I have been a slave for a long time.  I have had many Masters; most good, some less so.  My present Master is the best!  I love him unreservedly.  I do not presume to believe that he loves me.  For a Gorean man protestations of ‘undying love’ for a slave, are just not given.  I laugh to myself at such a bizarre and impossible situation.  Often a Master will love his slave, but she must never take that for granted.  It’s one sure way to make sure that one is sold, PDQ[1].

Tales of Drysdale House (11C)

 

11C Overwhelming Hannah Quigley.

I tried to feed Hannah Quigley more of the slave gruel that constituted the evening meal that Lena had brought the captive of Vansittart. Hannah shook her head and burst into tears. In a way I blamed myself. When I was talking to her about her slave-rape by Jackson, I had been too kind and considerate. Hannah, while still technically free, was a captive, and overly kind treatment of a captive would remove the strength a captive needed to survive. I gave orders,

“Back on your knees, Hannah. Behave yourself while your are still a captive.”

Startled, she looked at me with apprehension. She immediately dropped to her knees, spreading them open automatically. She sniffed back her dripping nose, and wiped her eyes with the back of her left hand.

“I am sorry, sir. So sorry. I know that you will try to get me out of here, but it is so hard; so overwhelming. It is all so overwhelming.”

Paga Diaries (39)

 39. Every Breath You Take

Pain exploded in my left ear as I was knocked to the ground and began to see stars, my consciousness fading.  Somehow, I did not pass out and a sweaty hand reached down to help me get up.  I heard men snickering about my lack of focus.  I sat on a wood bench in the shade to recover and wipe off the sand that was crusted on my body where it had hit the ground.  I had overextended a thrust, exposing myself and becoming unbalanced after being blocked.  Mercifully, Dirk had hit me with the flat of his wooden training sword.

Paga Diaries (38)

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Tales of Drysdale House (11B)

(The second part of  Hannah Quigley, the chapter was so long it needed to be broken up into three parts. Part 1 was yesterday, Part 3 will be Friday. This is part 2)

Tale of Drysdale House (11b)

Tales of Drysdale House (11A)

 My apologies that this took so long to post.It is a complex chapter and as a novice to AI images, I could not get what I wanted. The chapter ran very long so it will be posted over two days, tomorrow will be 11B, The whipping of Hannah Quigley

Tale 11A Feeding Hannah Quigley

Hannah’s cell was something out of a medieval movie. Stone flagstones made up the floor, the walls were of the quarried stone blocks that made up the foundation and cellars of Dragonwyck House. The ceiling was slightly vaulted; there was no natural light. The illumination came from a single incandescent bulb in the far corner, high in a sconce on the wall. It was a dismal room. The large cell was designed for more than one prisoner and was some twenty feet by thirty. Hannah was secured to a wall, out of sight of the barred window in the sturdy oak door. Her back was to me; she was sobbing.

“How can I eat this? there is no way I can eat this.”

I approached the girl, my boots made little or no sound. Hannah was kneeling with her back to me. She had a heavy iron collar around her neck; a chain ran from the collar to a ring bolt secured to the wall. Except for a pair of lacy red panties, the girl was nude. I cleared my throat; she did not respond. I crouched behind her and gently touched her arms. The poor girl started violently but did not turn around.

“Hannah? Hannah, Barbara is worried about you. How did you come to be in this state?”

The crying stopped, but she did not move.

“Hannah” It is me, Patrick Masters. How did you come to be in this state?”

“I can’t eat my food. They did not bring me a spoon. How can I eat my food if they didn’t bring me a spoon? They brought me a spoon at breakfast, but they didn’t bring me a spoon now. I haven’t eaten all day and I have no spoon.”

The Paga Diaries (37)

 37.  Oral Training        

“What items did you have in mind?” Cleodemus asked as he gingerly rolled up the scroll and placed it back into the protective leather casing.

“Items from Trakkar manual, gags, dummy cock, no salt gruel. What else you advice?”

“I advise a long mirror. Make the kajira pose in front of it and look at herself for ahn, perfecting her form.  Now for gags. Keeta come out here,” he said.  Keeta, his petite dark skinned slave trotted out and kneeled at his feet in nadu.  I admired her collar as before, the thin steel bar encircling her neck; I had not seen a collar like that.  I also couldn’t help but admire her body, her small but pointy breasts straining against the fabric of her tight fitted slave tunic.

Paga Diaries (36)

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Paga Diaries (35)

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Tales of Drysdale House (10)

Tale 10  A Lady eats an evening meal.

Anders, the slave girl Lena, and a strange man had been taken inside the confines Dragonwyck II, the sinister home of Vincent VanRijn. VanRijn, the man I had sworn to the Fricks I would help Anders assassinate. 

Paga Diaries (34)

 

34.  How To Train A Kajira?

 With her back to the fire and her hands braceleted behind her, Mena knelt on the floor with her knees spread wide.  I had just applied healing salve to her fresh brand, and cut her hair.  She watched me as I went to the couch and sat.  My mind was racing.  I was excited to own a beautiful woman and have her kneeling naked on my floor.  I had put my collar on her!  So many thoughts and training ideas competed for attention in my head.  How to train a kajira?  I was slightly nervous about my ability.  My next steps would be very important, with mistakes having unpleasant consequences.  I knew from my military experience that initial instruction was crucial in accomplishing desired training goals, and that if this initial stage was improperly done, it would be difficult to correct later.  This early opportunity should not be squandered by me.  I needed to be strict, deliberate and focused.  I needed to rein in any concern that I might have for her feelings, discomfort, or opinions regarding me or the training.

Heartless Cruelty

 

Heartless Cruelty

Pauline Anne Armitage

This is brutal!  Heartless in the extreme.  What the poor girl is suffering is cruelty personified.  But then, this is Gor.  Civilised standards, as I grew up with, being an Earth-girl slave, a barbarian by Gorean thinking, are not the same here.  I suppose that it’s a matter of perspective.  

Sayings of Gor.

 Some quotations from the Books of the Learned Professor.

This pilgrimage to the Sardar, enjoined by the Priest-Kings according to the Caste of Initiates, undoubtedly plays its role in the distribution of beauty among the hostile cities of Gor. Whereas the males who accompany a caravan are often killed in its defense or driven off, this fate, fortunate or not, is seldom that of the caravan’s women.

 

Waiting For The Bus

Peony D Beckside

I lie in that half-awake state where one doesn’t want to admit it’s morning as that would be a commitment to getting up out of bed.  In my semi lucid state I recall the dream, or was it a nightmare with absolute clarity, yet for all that my mind grasps to hold it,  The dream is the very antithesis of what I am, an upwardly mobile business executive that takes no shit from anyone, let alone any man that tries to denigrate me or get in my way.  The dream frightens me on several levels.  It speaks to me as a threat to my ambitions.  It worries me, making me wonder even doubt what I am, the kind of person that I am or that I strive to be.  Its voluptuousness, and strangely, seductiveness threatens to engulf and overwhelm me.  Its barbarity and cruelty frighten me for themselves alone.  Its outlandish sensuality seems so addictive.  Perhaps that’s why in my semi slumber I yearn to re-enter the dream.  One part of me knows that if I allow myself to go back to sleep, I’ll have a different dream and I will lose my hold on the one I’ve just had.  Another part tells me I should be waking up properly and getting about my business.  They war with one another.  Me, the present me, in my lassitude am the spoils.  To the victor I go.  Right now this semi sleep with it’s memory of the dream is so luxuriant that I don’t really want to leave it.

Paga Diaries (33)

 33.  Kajira Care

I could smell her and it wasn’t pleasant.  Mena was beside me, awake but lying still on her side.  Nude.   When was the last time she had bathed?  She was scrubbed at the slaving house before her release to me, but this washing was only a cursory removal of the grime from the street abuse of the gauntlet after her sentencing. Her hair had not been washed and it was a mess of tangled braids, stray locks, the remnants of a ruined elaborate hair tress. After the reading of Mena’s slave papers and my command for her to “move well kajira” on the couch, I languished and felt like taking a brief nap.  But, I couldn’t have a good nap with that smell so close.  I had put her to use now three times since bringing her home to my one room insula apartment. 

What The Hell Is This Place?

 

What The Hell Is This Place?
Pauline Anne Armitage

With acknowledgement and thanks to John Norman for creating the wonderful world of Gor, in which this story is set.

 

This is a strange dream.  In this dream, I awake from sleep. I mean it has to be a dream, right? There’s no way that it can be real, even though it feels as if it is.  I know that last night when turning in for the night, I’d thought that I’d not get to sleep for worrying about the creepy men who’ve been watching me, following me for the last fortnight or so.  Clearly I did get to sleep, otherwise I couldn’t be in this dream now.  Logical!  If this was real, I’d still be in my own bed, waking normally.  Ergo, dream.  Or perhaps nightmare.  I’ll say ‘dream’ for now.  Nothing’s happened in it yet to make me think it’s a nightmare.  Since it is a dream I must enjoy or endure it until my brain decides it’s time to wake up properly, or something in the dream is too horrific or too wonderfully impossible causes me to arouse from my slumber.

Tales of Drysdale House (9) The Slave’s Tale

 

And many are the dead men,

Too silent to be real.

-Gordon Lightfoot.

Lena collapsed into Anders’s arms as she burst into tears. It was one of the most surreal moments I had ever experienced: Anders with two dead men at his feet, and a crying naked woman in his arms. Maybe that was normal in his world, but I was a patent attorney from San Francisco. My life had changed so much since I and my girlfriend had set out on a camping trip to the Yellowstone Valley for the Memorial Day weekend. In the valley of the Bighorn River, a tributary of the Yellowstone, we had played a game of make-believe. We had role-played as barbarian and captive, Master and Slavegirl. Gradually role play had become reality, games had become life. We had become entangled in a range war out of the 1880s, had met piratical ranchers who were shipping enslaved women to another planet, and in self-defense I had killed two men.

Paga Diaries (32) by Arizona Wanderer

 32.  Move Well Kajira

 “You made me yield, Master,” Mena said as we lay together on the wide couch, the leash on her collar still attached to the metal slave ring. 

“Yield? What is yield?” I asked, not familiar with the new word. 

Bunkum by Peony D Beckside

 (A remarkable standalone story by Peony D Beckside - Tracker)

Bunkum?

 

Peony D. Beckside

 

 

This story references two distinct fictional worlds, created by two very different authors.  The first is the world envisaged by Anne McCaffrey in her book Restoree.  Basing on the premise that the heroine of that story, is returning to Earth as part of a diplomatic and trading mission.  The second is the series of books ostensibly authored by ‘John Norman’, set in the world of Gor.  It is not directly set in either of those worlds, only relating to an enquiry as to whether one of those worlds could exist in reality.

Tales of Drysdale House (8)

 The Slave Girl

I watched as Anders and Lena entered through one of the doors in the service wing into Dragonwyck. Through the binoculars I had watched the leader of the guards enter a code into the exterior pin pad and then push the door open, gesturing to Holgar,

Paga Diaries (31)

 

31.  Slave Rape
Tenrik stood next to Dario and Dira locked in a passionate embrace before a crowd chanting "Dira! Dira! Dira!" and pounding Gorean applause.  He separated the couple, putting his left arm over Dira's naked shoulders and collarless neck and his right arm over Dario's shoulder.  The crowd, stunned, grew quiet.

 

The Price of Hubris (2) Conclusion

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