tazzygirl
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sorry, work interrupted my thoughts eariler
i mentioned consensual slavery, the thives and the like because someone else mentioned force enslavement as a way of life for goreans... that only happens in the books. off line slavery is still very much consensual.
as far as honor, wouldnt that be subjective? what i may consider to be an honorable act, another may consider to be foolish, but, if the person is living up to their own moral codes and practices, isnt that their honor?
for example.. my adult um is my world... even if he were to commit a grave act, even murder, i would stand by him, support him no matter what. but, how many would consider my actions dishonorable to the family of the person he killed?a man, faced with the option of starvation for his ums or stealing what is needed for them to survive. where is his honor? only he can answer that, yes?
as far as never reading how women beg the collars of men in the books, perhaps you missed Slavegirl of gor? two entries from that book showing women did indeed beg collars consensually are as follows.....
Clitus Vitellius
I shook with pleasure as I stood on the line, and looked at Clitus Vitellius. Within the Ta-Teera my thighs, even looking at him, were hot and damp. He did not notice me, and was talking to Thurnus. He was the sort of man who would set his terms for a woman, even a free woman. No woman, even one who was free, would be permitted to relate to him save on his terms, and on his terms alone. He would not argue, nor would he discuss, nor persuade nor negotiate; to the free woman´s horror she would understand that she must, as he saw fit, submit herself as hopelessly and will-lessly as a slave girl for his consideration. He would enter into no relationship except on his own terms. His terms were simple, that the woman be yielded to him, totally, that she be as much his, and as helplessly, though by her own free will, as any slave girl on whom he might choose to fix his collar. He would be, even in a companionship, to the scandal of Ar, master. No woman who failed to meet these understood, publicized and well-known terms would be acceptable.
I looked at my master, sitting cross-legged by the fire, talking with Thurnus.
Yet hundreds of the highborn free women of Ar, many rich, had avidly sought companionship with Clitus Vitellius.
I did not blame them. Had I been a free woman of Ar, I, too, would have sought such companionship. To have such a man as Clitus Vitellius I would have accepted his terms. So, too, I think would have any true woman. Surely it is better to have a true man on any terms than to have half a man, or no man at all. Men are masters; if the man be strong, the woman must submit. Given the opportunity to relate to a true man, few women will settle for less. Indeed, true women, in the belly of them, desire to submit to true men. It is an ancient instinct bred into the bellies of beautiful, feminine women.
“Remove your clothing,” would my master say to a high-born free woman, suing to be considered by him in companionship. She would do so, and be assessed. If he was not pleased, he would send her weeping from his presence, clutching the rag of a slave, to don it and return to her dwelling. If he was not displeased he would gesture to the tiles before him where there waited a goblet of slave wine which she, kneeling before him, would eagerly drink. She would serve him that night as a slave. In the morning, she, nude, would prepare and serve to him his breakfast, after which he would make fresh use of her; he would then send her from his presence, first pressing into her hand a coin, usually a copper tarsk or a silver tarsk, commensurate with the quality of her service. Such women went from his quarters proudly, clad in the full regalia of the free woman. They were not discontent. They had been touched by Clitus Vitellius. Some women claimed that they had earned from Clitus Vitellius a tarn disk of gold. Such a coin would buy several girls such as myself. Sometimes a girl, rather than be sent from his presence, would beg to be kept as a collared slave. She would then sign a document of enslavement which, after her signature was affixed, she would be powerless to alter or break, for she would then be only a slave. Clitus Vitellius would commonly keep such a girl for a few days, and then discard her, usually giving her to a friend or selling her. I wondered if such a girl, braceleted, and pulled away from him on her leash, regretted her choice. She was then in bondage, subject to chains and the whip, and the will of men. What had she then to look forward to but the degradation of the sales block, being exposed to men as a slave and being vended in a public market; being owned by a succession of hard masters, accustomed to the management of girls such as she; onerous work and strict discipline; and the continuous exploitation of her body and service? Perhaps, for a woman, the thrill of being owned and commanded, of being at the absolute mercy of a powerful man, knowing that she must obey him, and experiencing, if she be fortunate, incredible, helpless, incomparable love, of the sort which can be felt only by a completely rightless woman, fully and absolutely owned by a man, in his total bondage. But such thoughts would not be likely to be prominent in the mind of a leashed girl, helplessly braceleted, being dragged to her first sale.
I looked at my master. How magnificent he was.
His collar, I had heard, was one of the most sought collars in Ar.
When he strode through the streets free women sometimes threw themselves before him, tearing away their veils and robes, begging for his collar.
He was such a man.
One´s freedom is small enough price to pay, whisper some highborn women of Ar among themselves, for even ten days in the collar of Clitus Vitellius. The boredoms of freedom are small enough price to pay surely for even a brief sojourn in the arms of such a man, they conjecture.
But such women, I told myself, must be natural slaves, even though they be legally free, as I was not. If they are natural slaves, I asked myself, should they not be made slaves? Why should one who is a natural slave not be a slave? Can it be wrong to enslave a natural slave? Is it not right that natural slaves be enslaved? Is it not what they want? I looked at my master. What woman, I asked, would not be the natural slave of such a man? He was a natural master. Any woman, I suspected, to such a man, would be a natural slave. Almost any woman, I suspected, looking on such a man, would sense herself his natural slave.
That would explain why the women of Ar would twist on their couches like bitches in heat thinking of Clitus Vitellius. In the darkness, remembering him, his stride, his glance, and limbs, they would have intuited him as their master.
“Prepare to run, Slaves!” called a peasant.
I looked at my master. The heat in my thighs made me want to run to him but I dared not leave the line.
Earlier in the afternoon, casually, Thurnus had aroused me, and no one had satisfied me.
I had spent the afternoon in a slave girl´s misery.
I wanted to run to my master.
I dared not leave the line.
I looked at my master. I wondered if I, though a girl of Earth, were a natural slave.
How I wanted him to have me.
Clitus Vitellius, in spite of the desires of the women of Ar, had never taken a companion.
I did not think he ever would. He was Clitus Vitellius. He would have slave girls instead.
He would always keep his girls in collars. I loved him! SLavegirl of Gor, page 154 to 156
and this as well
Slave girl of Gor
Book 11 : Chapter 7
Later I lay in his arms, an owned slave girl, content beside the mightiness of her master.
How I loved him!
"Strange," he said, looking up at the Gorean stars.
"Master?" I asked.
"You are obviously only a common girl," he said.
"Yes, Master," I said. I began to kiss him gently about the shoulder.
"Only a common girl," he said.
It was true. He was Clitus Vitellius, a Captain, of the city of Ar. I was only Dina.
"Yes, Master," I said.
"I fear that I might begin to care for you," he said.
"If Dina has found favor with her master," I said, "she is pleased."
"I must fight this weakness," he said.
"Whip me," I said.
"No," he said.
"It is not you who is weak, Master," I said. "It is I, Dina, in your arms, who am without strength." I kissed him.
"I am a captain," he said. "I must be strong."
"I am a slave girl," I said. "I must be weak."
"I must be strong," he said.
"You did not seem weak to me, Master," I said, "when you laughed, and took me, and named me Dina. Then you seemed magnificent in your power and pride."
"It was only the conquest of a slave girl," he said.
"Yes, Master," I said, "I am your conquest." It was true. Dina, the Earth girl, she who had once been Judy Thornton, a lovely college student and poetess, was now the enslaved love conquest of Clitus Vitellius of Ar.
"You trouble me," he said, angrily.
"Forgive me, Master," I said.
"I should rid myself of you," he said.
"Permit me to follow at the heels of the least of your soldiers," I said. I truly did not fear that he would rid himself of me. I loved him. I was confident that he, too, in spite of himself, cared for me.
"Master," I said.
"Yes," he said.
"Has Dina pleased you this night?" I asked.
"Yes," he said.
"I want your collar," I said.
There was a long silence. Then he said, "You are an Earth girl. Yet you beg to wear a collar?"
"Yes, Master," I said.
It is said, in a Gorean proverb, that a man, in his heart, desires freedom, and that a woman, in her belly, yearns for love. The collar, in its way, answers both needs. The man is most free, owning the slave. He may do what he wishes with her. The woman, on the other hand, being owned, is institutionally and helplessly subject, in her status as slave, to the submissions of love.
I sensed my master feared his feelings for me. This gave me power over him.
"Dina wants Master’s collar," I whispered, kissing at him. The collar would make me the equal of Eta.
"I decide what slaves will wear my collar," he said.
"Yes, Master," I said, chastened. If he saw fit to put me in his collar, he would; if he did not, he would not.
"Does Dina love her master?" he asked.
"Yes, yes, Master!" I whispered. I so loved him!
"Have I given you choice in this?" he asked.
"No, Master," I said. "You have made me love you, helplessly and wholly."
"Your feelings, then," he asked, "have been fully engaged, and you are now mine, at my complete mercy, fully and vulnerably, with no shred of pride or dignity left?"
"Yes, Master," I whispered.
"You acknowledge yourself then hopelessly in love with me, and as a slave girl?"
"Yes, Master," I said.
"Amusing," he said.
"Master?" I asked.
"I, and the men, and other girls," lie said, "will leave Tabuk’s Ford in the morning. You will remain behind. I am giving you to Thurnus."
edited to add... he later took dina as his slave
"Do you understand,Master?" I asked, "if I had the choice, I would choose not to be free but to be your slave."
A woman, I had learned, must choose between freedom and love. Both are estimable virtues. Let each choose which is best for her.
"But I do not give you a choice," he said.
"Of course not,Master," I said. "You are Gorean."
He looked down at the furs.
"Perhaps I will sell you," he said.
"You may do as you wish, Master," I said. I knew I was at his complete mercy, only a bond girl.
He seemed angry.
"Bring me wine,Master," I said.
He looked at me, suddenly.
"A girl is only testing her master," I smiled.
Suddenly he struck me, slapping me cruelly across the mouth. It hurt me. I tasted a bit of blood.
"Do you think," he asked, "that because I care for you I will not be strong with you?"
"No Master," I said.
I lay in the shadow of the slave ring. A chain and heavy collar lay at the foot of the ring, the chain attached to the ring.
He took the heaavy metal collar and closed it about my throat, over and about the lighter collar I wore, confining me at the ring, on the furs at the foot of his couch.
Then he touched me.
"I see you will be strong with me, Master," I said.
"What a fool I am," he said, "to care for a miserable Earth-girl slave."
"I ask only to love and serve you,Master,"I said.
"Yet you are attractive," he said.
"A girl is grateful to her master, should he find her pleasing," I said.
"So you would choose to be a slave?" he asked.
"Yes, Master," I said.
"Slut," he said.
"Yes,Master," I said.
"It is I who will decide," he said.
"Yes,Master," I said.
"I decide----" he said.
"Yes, Master," I begged.
"----that you are my slave."
"Yes,Master!" I cried.
Then I writhed in his arms as he took me, exploding in the deepest and most profound ecstasies a female can know, those of the slave orgasm, known only to the owned woman.
"How could I love you so much," he asked, "if I did not truly own you, if you were not fully mine?" "I do not know, Master," I said. Clitus Vitellius had confessed his love for a slave. I hoped he would not now beat me.
~Slave Girl of Gor...page 442-443~
so, she did beg.. and he accepted.. eventually
tazzy
< Message edited by tazzygirl -- 11/9/2008 8:29:03 PM >
_____________________________
Telling me to take Midol wont help your butthurt.
RIP, my demon-child 5-16-11
Duchess of Dissent 1
Dont judge me because I sin differently than you.
If you want it sugar coated, dont ask me what i think! It would violate TOS.
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RE: The differance between lifestyles - 
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