Blog Schedule and Contributions

 (edited May 18th, 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:

A Talendar for Shirley (6) by Peony D Beckside

A Talendar for Shirley (5) by Peony D Beckside

Tales of Drysdale House (16) by Tracker, Pulled Back In (3)

The Paga Diaries (43) by Arizona Wanderer

A Talendar for Shirley (4) by Peony D Beckside

Tales of Drysdale House (15) A Lawyer Takes On a New Role by Tracker

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A Talendar for Shirley (6) by Peony D Beckside

 A Talendar for Shirley

Peony D Beckside

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

Chapter Six: Reality With A Bump!

 

The building is solid, almost forbidding, like one would expect the facade of one of those old Victorian prisons.  The blue and yellow banners somehow don’t alleviate the exterior drabness.  Master swings the big solid door knocker.  The sound echoes back within the building.  A man in robes similar to those of Master opens the door.

“Is this the house of Thromberg?”

“It is, Caste Brother.  How may we be of assistance.”

“May I speak with your Proprietor?  Assuming that’s not yourself?”

“No,  Perhaps one day I might have a house of my own.  Do come in, I’ll call Stephanis Thromberg.”

Tale 17. Sorry no Talel 17 this week. The writing did not come together. Chapter being re-written

A Talendar for Shirley (5) by Peony D Beckside

 

Chapter Five: A New World!

 

I unchain my slut, pulling her gently by her arm.  We descend some steps from my rooms.  There’s a pool in the courtyard.  Not quite a swimming pool, but more a plunge pool.  It’s kept warm by the hypocaust^[1] system.  I hand Shirley a pan-like container and some soap.  I sit on a stone bench

“Wash me, girl.  All of me.”

Tales of Drysdale House (16) Pulled Back In (3)

 Pulled Back In (3)

Narrative of Patrick Masters.

I replaced the phone in its cradle on my desk in the Library at Drysdale House. It was really my favorite room of all the rooms in the house. It contained my books, my father’s and grandfather’s collections, and some volumes that had been in the house when I bought it. Juli had unpacked and shelved most of the books, but they were in no particular order. I had planned to work on cataloguing and organizing over the winter, but now the demands of collecting and shipping candidates for slavery on Gor had pushed that pleasant task to the side.

“Anders reports that Jane Bennet has been confronted and agreed to accommodate us in the matter of selecting candidates for acquisition. He has made a preliminary assessment of her himself. Her responses were very good. She will bring a good price herself in time.”

The Paga Diaries (43)

 43.  Swordplay And A Satchel.
 

I drew my gladius as Lenious stepped toward me, his sword brandished.  This was not a wooden training gladius I held, and I was scared, realizing that this test of steel could end my idyllic life on this exotic planet.  What was I risking at this moment and why?

 

“Why are you following me?” Lenious snarled, stopping just out of my sword reach.  I didn’t know the answer to that question, and now I wish I hadn’t followed him.  I didn’t want to risk my life this way in a dark back alley.  I was having a marvelous time on Gor and I regretted following him, now realizing I had made a grave mistake.  I felt stupid and I didn’t know how to answer his question.

A Talendar for Shirley (4) by Peony D Beckside

A Talendar for Shirley

Peony D Beckside

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

 

Chapter Four: Bitter And Sweet Lessons.

 

I force myself to ignore that burst of weakness in me, and concentrate on the practical, the ‘what’s happening here and now’

The Rat unlocks the previous collar, the one that wends its way to the floor anchorage.  Even if I could get up off my knees quickly enough without the use of my hands to escape, I doubt that I could run more than two yards before he would catch me.  Then there are doors, are any locked?  If I got out onto the street, where would I go.  I’ve no idea as to the geography of this weird city.  No clue as to who if anyone would help me.  If I’m to believe this lunatic, no-one at all would. Besides, I’m naked.  A naked woman in a strange place, it could easily be ‘Out of the frying pan and into the fire’.

Tales of Drysdale House (15) A Lawyer Takes On a New Role

 

A lawyer takes on a new role.

Narrative of Jane Bennet.

I was feeling pretty good about my prospects as I walked into the Lobby of the Hathaway Building. I was carrying a cup of coffee which I had purchased next door. I was sure that soon I would be working back on the top or fifth floor, promoted out of by punishment assignment with the temporary data and exhibit clerks on the fourth. The Fifth is where the action is; where Mr Masters and the partners work and where all the decisions are made. I often work on Saturdays. I like to show my dedication to my job.

The Paga Diaries (42)

 

42. Risto And Encounter

I watched the small shadow racing on the ground far below me as I turned the tarn around for another pass at the target.  I took my eyes off of the moving winged shadow and directed my attention to the overstuffed rep cloth bundle on the ground ahead of me.  This was my fourth pass, my three previous attempts to land the capture loop on the bundle missing the mark.

A Talendar for Shirley (3)

 

A Talendar for Shirley
Peony D Beckside

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

Chapter Three: Beyond A ‘Bad-Hair’ Day.

 

I think that I’m awake.  I wonder if I dare chance opening my eyes?  Not yet, please.  There are just a few sensations that don’t seem to want to let me drift back into glorious slumber.  They niggle me, needling me to investigate them, to open my eyes and become fully conscious.  Leave me alone!  Just let me go back to oblivion…  My thoughts won’t let me.

Tales of Drysdale House (14.5) Pulled Back In (1.5)

 

The New Team: A Pulled Back In Vignette

I said goodbye to the Delegation from the First Families of America who had commandeered my house for use as an Acquisition Center for women to be sent to Gor on behalf of the Steel Worlds. I as affable and genial; there nothing to be gained by a fruitless petulant display. Woodrow Frick left in a pickup truck driven by a man I did not recognize, doubtless from the Lazy F. Elliot Emery and Robert Desjarlais left together in the inevitable black Suburban with tinted windows. Desjarlais was driving. Zach Frick went in Drysdale House. My House, still. I was not pleased with young Zach at that moment. I took a short brisk walk in Fremont Park across the street to clear my head before going home.

Tales of Drysdale House (14) Pulled Back In (1)

 

Pulled Back In (1)

“I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse” – The Godfather

 

“What is a tarn”, asked Inspector Strade.

I read from the back of the menu.

            “Tarn (n) a small steep-banked mountain lake or pool often glacier fed, or by mountain streams.

“But in this case, it is a more expensive private part of the Scaramouche Restaurant.”

Inspector Lee Strade opened the menu in front of him.

“Good thing I have a generous expense account. Still as funny name for a restaurant.”

A Talendar for Shirley (2)

A Talendar for Shirley

Peony D Beckside

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

Chapter Two: Allaying Fear.

 

This Mike is an interesting man, a real gentleman!  He holds the limousine door open for me to exit.  Inside the restaurant he takes my coat and finds somewhere to hang it.

A Talendar for Shirley (1)

 

A Talendar for Shirley

Peony D Beckside

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

Chapter One: Prey Identification.

 

My name is Michalis Dundras.  That’s not quite the name shown on the slim little book in the inside pocket of the jacket I wear; the booklet with the word ‘passport’ on the front cover.  The ‘passport’ says that I’m Michael Donaldson.  The organisation that I work for is fortunate in having someone working in the US Passport Office.  The passport I have, is therefore genuine, the documentation upon which it was issued though, is perhaps less than honest.

Tales of Drysdale House (13) Men Make Plans

 

Tale 013

The Queen Conch sailed into the bay through the Golden Gate under the famous bridge. The sun was shining down on the deck. I felt very relieved that morning. The mission was over; I could resume the life I had planned since Juli and I had left the Lazy F at the very beginning of the summer. I would live, semi-retired from my practice of patent law with Juli as my devoted kajira. Mrs Magruder would manage the small household for me. I would live with Juli, my own my true life, and a couple of other collared sluts for variety and to serve my guests. I would have time each year to select and collect a few other women, suited for the collar by beauty and temperament. Three would be sent to the Grand Duke of Lutha as tribute for my position, and perhaps a couple as gifts to the Fricks as thanks for their friendship and protection. I would finally rest and have no more to do with adventures and the affairs of the Steel Worlds. That was my dream and it was, as far as I was concerned on the edge of fulfillment.

Man makes plans, and the Priest-Kings laugh.

*

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

A Mere Fleabite
Peony D. Beckside

 Due to increasing difficulty in navigating image generation restrictions, all illustrations in this post are archival.

Chapter Four: Futility

I do not scream as I awaken in this cage.  The concept of finding myself locked in a cage is no longer so shocking, so bizarre.  It’s an experience I’ve had before.  I don’t like the situation.  I no more want to be kept like an animal in a cage than I did before.  It’s simply not a surprise anymore.

This cage though is in a much more dark and dank room than had been the one I had inhabited on Earth.  At least the previous prison-room had fluorescent lights, here the lamps seem to be some kind of oil-lamp, with its concomitant reduction in light output.

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)

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

Paga Diaries (35)

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

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

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