slave? Then I cried out in fury that such thoughts could even occur to me. I hated him, hated him! Was he not the monster who had brought me to the marking iron and collar, the longed-for, ecstatic degradation of bondage, and had then dismissed me, as he must have a thousand others, processed like cattle for the girl markets of Gor? How I hated him, but even on Earth I had sensed, in the profound female of me, that I belonged in a man’s collar. Then I did my best to thrust such thoughts from my mind.
How different were the men of Gor from so many of the men I had known on Earth! So many of the men of Earth had disappointed me; so many seemed pathetically devirilized, so reduced and robbed of their masculinity. Did they not know they were men? Did they think we longed for “persons,” neuters, identicals, or imitation women? Were they ashamed of their blood? Did they fear it? Why did so many strive to diminish and betray themselves in order to please and satisfy those pathological ideologues who feared and hated them? What rewards, I wondered, could repay them for this reductive, stunting, biological treason? On the other hand, I had met many Gorean men, masculine, powerful, and formidable, before whom a woman knew herself as, and could be but, a slave. On Earth it was hard for a woman to be a woman. On Gor, collared, and put to her knees, she had no choice, nor wanted any. How could we be happy, if not in our place, at the feet of our masters? I hated him, yes, but I had wanted, too, to be owned by him. Even from the first time our eyes had met, on a far world, I had sensed I was appropriately a rightless belonging, and wanted to be his. I think women understand what I am saying. Perhaps so, perhaps not. Perhaps some have dreamed of the man who will look upon them, find them acceptable, and put them in his collar.
Then I struggled again to put such thoughts from me.
I was pleased. I had escaped. I was at last safe. But the forest seemed dark, lonely, and cold. How could one be safe within it, unarmed, and unprotected? I did not even know how to make a fire. Amongst those dark trees and shadows might lurk life forms, prowling and hungry. I had escaped, yes, but into what had I escaped?
Had something moved, in the darkness to my right?
I hurried on.
Suppose I managed to cross the river, and make my way south, what then? Had I then escaped, truly?
Could I escape? I was even a barbarian, who might still be betrayed by her accent, and doubtless, indefinitely, by her ignorance of any number of things, such as customs, sayings, legends, stories, histories, festivals, and heroes.
I touched the disrobing loop at my left shoulder, all that kept the tiny garment on me. I touched my collar, which I could not remove. And seared into my left thigh, just beneath the hip, was a small, lovely mark, a kef, which, to any who might gaze upon it, would show me kajira.
It is said that there is no escape for the Gorean slave girl. She is marked, collared, and distinctively garbed. There is no refuge for her, no safe haven, nowhere for her to run. Her nature, condition, and status are unquestioned in custom and institutionalized in law. Society accepts her with the same unquestioned equanimity that it accepts other domestic animals. She is a familiar, recognized, sanctioned, accepted, welcomed, desired, even treasured, component in the culture. Certainly there is no doubt that she is an attractive and valued commodity, a vendible convenience and delight, surely a decorative and useful article of commerce. The culture and society wants its kajirae, and will have them. And the kajira herself well knows what she is, and what is expected of her, how she must behave, act, speak, and be. She has her place in society, and well understands it. It is as clear and fixed as the collar on her neck, the mark on her thigh.
How lonely it was in the forest!
Is it an escape, I wondered, to be dragged down by beasts, and eaten? Is it an escape, I wondered, if one starves, or freezes to death? Is it an escape, I wondered, if one manages to do nothing but change collars?
I no longer feared being captured by