Memories are the secrets of our soul. Each memory a tiny building block which collectively makes us who and what we are today. They are our joys and heartbreaks packed neatly and stored carefully for us to return to and relive.

Some memories are given freely, while others are hoarded and locked deeply away... only brought forth to be shared as rare treasures to those we love. We offer these tokens to another in an effort that we might be better understood.

This girl would like to thank lexi{P}, mickie~D~ and sunny for generously sharing the gift of their memories regarding their first experiences to online Gor.

Wishing everyone most well,
belle{A^}

Property of Phormio
lexi{P}

Memories of IRC

This girl first came to Gor online because a friend brought her. She was a BDSM sub, and had served several Masters she had met on line. The last was a bad experience, one that scared her. She told her friend that she was thinking of not being a submissive anymore. Her friend, who had seen her serve and thought this one was quite happy in it, and who was serving a Gorean man and had been to the Silk ∓ Steel, brought her there.

This one was so very confused at first ; she had been on line in BDSM areas, and the men of Gor seemed harsh, and the girls seemed like mindless robots, without, as she thought of it then, "spark".

Still, the men also appeared as refreshingly honest as they did harsh, and they fascinated her. She returned, after she begged to be allowed to do so, because she was banned after her first visit. That ban might have indeed been a blessing, because it increased this girl’s interest even more. As she spoke to the Master who banned her, hoping to be allowed back into the tavern, something in her recognized the wiles she had learned, and seen so often, as a BDSM sub would not be tolerated by him, and so she begged, honestly and earnestly, to be allowed to return. And as she did, something felt more right inside her then it had ever before, and that made her curious. She knew BDSM ideas attracted her, she loved control, but what was this in her?

Oh gosh! In the beginning a girl was so scared, she could barely fake her typing skills! Looking back, she is surprised she was not kicked more often for her nervous typos! And too, every other girl’s serve looked so much more beautiful to her. She tried to slink and wriggle and bounce as they did, she truly did. After all, they seemed to please the Masters, and this one was kicked many times, not so gentle lessons in how to be a slave. Then she thought about it one day. This girl does not bounce or wriggle or slink when she moves. She has looked. She is not graceful. Indeed, she is somewhat of a klutz.

Oh, but how she wished to please. And she loved the serving of men. She thought she would not compete with the other girls anymore, even though the competition was probably only in her mind. She began to serve as she was comfortable doing: from her heart and mind, and as it grew, her belly. And as a 44 year old, not wet behind the ears, curvaceous but not bodacious, warts and all, woman. Her serves relaxed, she thinks, and so did a girl. And she believes, the men saw a more real her.

This one read the Silk ∓ Steel web page even before she entered the tavern; her friend had printed it and copied it for her. She reread it. As she got more curious, and felt her belly grow, she bought Gor books, and scoured the web for information on Gor.

But, it is the men of the Silk ∓ Steel who trained her. Sometimes, especially when she was new, the lessons seemed severe. Or perhaps they just felt that way, because something in her did not so enjoy displeasing these men. She came to realize, and appreciate, in time, that she was being taught in the manner of strong men. She began to actually crave the lessons, because she realized they were honest, direct and memorable. That was refreshing, for a girl who enjoyed the simpleness of understanding exactly what was expected. And too, she learned from their words, listening to their discussions whenever she could, talking to them and asking questions when she finally pressed her nerves down enough to do so. She also continued to actively watch the slaves, making note of what pleased the Masters and what did not.

Did a girl believe it all, every moment, from the very start? Heck no, she remembers calling her friend at one point (no doubt at the height of a foot stomp) and telling her she thought this was some sort of college fraternity trick!

But this girl tried to be real from the start. She had been other places, BDSM areas, and was so very disenchanted with what she found there: Masters who lied about themselves, subs who smiled to their Masters then revealed a totally different, and not very becoming, side when they were alone "just us girls", duplicate "characters" to the point of never being sure who was who or what, Mistresses who were rumored to really be men at the keys.

This girl was called to Master Modred’s feet early on. He asked the length of her hair. A simple enough question. This was the computer. She could really have any length hair she wished, heck, she could be Crystal Gayle! She wished, though, to be herself. Only that. She was worn out by "characters" and pretend. She wished real, so she told him the truth: short hair. And once she did that, then not making up the rest seemed easy.

What this one felt inside herself was real from the start. Not that she trusted it! Not that it didn’t scare her! But it was undeniably real.

A girl first realized she was a slave when the "real" of her feelings could no longer be dismissed in her heart and mind.

Oh, how she tried to talk herself out of those feelings! She had many many good catfights with this "girl" she was so afraid of! She was, after all, an independent woman. And to be so very under the power of men and their whims? What sort of lunacy was that? This girl was not crazy!

These men were harsh. They dismissed girls when they were not pleasing. They punished girls. They owned more then one slave at a time! They had Free Companions and slaves! She was a middle class girl with traditional middle class values, wasn’t she? What if her dad found out? He had not raised her to be dependent on men. And a slut? Ohhhh geeeze!

Gor was not even fair! Even when a slave was right, she might not be right. How could a girl stand up for herself if that was the case? Didn’t she need to stand up for herself? What was wrong with her?

This was not a game! Oh, how much better it would be if she just ran! How could she hope to survive here? Run, run, run!

Tears. Buckets of them. Nights spent tossing and turning.

The misery of displeasing. Oh, how that hurt inside!

The joy of pleasing! Damn, she was on an emotional roller coaster! This could not be healthy!

And through it all, a little voice in her head was saying, "Yes. This is what you are." It was such a calm voice: how a girl wished to strangle it! Couldn’t it see she was in turmoil?

Brainwashing! That was it!

No, wait…

No one else had told her she had to be a slave. Not a Master. Not her Master. No one. Oh, they had treated her like the slave she claimed she was, and they expected her to act like what she said she was, but, when she thought of it, not one Master had told her she had to be slave, not one had told her she was a slave.

Indeed, the friends who knew her best assured her she could not possibly ever be a slave.

Uh oh.

Maybe it was time to listen a little to this voice.

The voice did not change: "This is what you are." Okay, nerves and fear aside, was that true? And if it was, what did that mean?

A girl pushed past her fear, past her preconceptions, past what she had been taught all her life, deep inside herself.

There was the voice again, and this time a girl did not wish to strangle it. She wished to examine it, to consider it, and finally, to embrace it.

If she denied the slave in her, she would never be whole. She wished to be whole.

Whole people are happy.

This one wished to be happy. (And she is!)

There are uncollared slaves in the Silk ∓ Steel. There are no forced collars; a girl must beg a man to be allowed to wear his collar. That sounds like the girl chooses the man, but this one does not believe that. She believes the man chooses the girl, then makes her belly burn so very hot, she cannot help but beg his collar, or be miserable.

This girl was scared of many of the Masters of the Silk ∓ Steel. They were exacting Masters, and she was not such a very good slave. Two of the men who scared her were Master Mach, and Master Andric. One day she was in the tavern, alone with one other slave, and them. Master Mach asked if she had ever served him, and she, attempting to be honest possibly past the point of good sense, told him no, she usually hid under the furs when he was around.

Master Mach, in turn, was quite content not to have her serve him then, informing her he had many slaves begging to do so. He spoke of ignores.

Master Andric asked her how she expected to learn, if she did not try? She answered that she could not learn from outside the tavern, if she were booted for being displeasing.

Neither Master allowed her to serve them. This one was, at that time, so relieved she did not have to embarrass herself, and risk another possible boot, that what they said did not sink all the way in. (It took a while for her to think she had embarrassed herself, after all).

She continued to serve. One day, she was talking to a slave and the slave said she too was terrified of Master Mach. Then, much to this one’s surprise, the girl moved to his feet, and begged to serve him! She talked to the girl after, and that brought back what the Masters had said to her that day in the tavern. She realized they were right. So, she cranked up her nerves (a few days), prayed that the good typing angel would sit on her shoulder a while, and went to Master Mach’s feet and begged to be allowed to serve him.

He allowed it, much to her shock. She brought him water.

She does not remember a whole lot more about that service (nerves are a wonderful thing). But in the end, she was told she could again beg to serve him.

And so she did.

Again and again.

And while she was serving him, he talked to her, sometimes, when it pleased him to do so.

This girl did not have much of an idea what belly burning was then, but she knows now, and Master Mach made her belly burn. He fascinated her. She loved hearing him talk; she loved talking to him. What she learned! And he did not let her have her way. He remained strong even when she "foot stomped", as he called it.

She began to think of him night and day. She began to hope to please him even when he was not there.

Oh, she was hooked! She tried not to be, because she thought it was too soon, and after all, her track record in choosing Masters was not so very good! But, very soon, she found herself whispering to him how she felt, begging to be allowed to wear his collar. "In the tavern" he said. And so a very nervous girl begged there.

There was no ceremony. He showed her to one of the other Masters, and asked what he thought. The other Master seemed not displeased, and Master Mach took a collar, reading "property of Mach" from his pack and snapped it on this girl’s throat. That was that, and zing went the strings of her heart.

Though she was still relatively new, this girl knew what being collared meant. Master Mach was honest and forthright with her, both before and after she begged his collar. He told her what he expected in his slaves, and answered her questions. He allowed her concerns, and discussed them with her. She knew she would be his, until she was sold, given away or uncollared, and that only when it pleased him. She knew he expected her to obey, submit and surrender.

Later, when she was given by Master Mach to Master Phormio, she did not expect it to be different. Owned is owned. This one thinks a girl is either a man’s completely, or she should reconsider whether or not she is truly a slave in her Master’s collar. While the specifics of being owned may vary from Master to Master, as pleases them, the generalities do not. A girl is expected to obey, submit, and surrender. Online or off, a girl is expected to be what she says she is; a slave to a Gorean Master.

A girl cannot address what is real and what is not on a whole of IRC, as she has been almost exclusively in the Silk ∓ Steel. She went two other places, both under the direction of Masters. The visits were relatively short, certainly not long enough for a girl to speak on what was and was not real in them.

She has heard stories of other places, but since she has not traveled there, has not knelt and watched and learned "the lay of the land", it would be unfair of her to think she knows how these places are.

This girl knows, though, that honesty and being real, all the time, in every way, is what is encouraged in the Silk ∓ Steel. Gorgeous girls with Barbie doll figures are welcome, but only if they can prove they really look like that. Men can be Warriors! They can also be Builders, Scribes, Physicians, and Peasants. Any caste. They are what they are.

Women can be Free, too, but, again, only if they truly are.

And slave girls can be slave girls. Always; no ons and offs.

The philosophy of the books is also real in the Silk ∓ Steel. Women, even Free, are expected to be submissive to men. And the Silk ∓ Steel, like any paga tavern in the Gor books, is a place of men. It is not dressed up for company. It is a place men can come and be themselves, to enjoy the company of other men. Occasionally, if they allow it, they are served by a slave girl, or exchange social pleasantries with a Free Woman.

Yes, cyber paga and cyber bosk and even cyber sex are served there. But that is not the focus. The focus is on being true to what you are. The rest is window dressing; available, pretty, attractive to some, but if it were not there, a girl believes the Silk ∓ Steel would remain intact… because its basis is being what you are.

The culture of the Silk ∓ Steel is one of strong men. They are what they are. Crass sometimes, bold always, humorous, enticing, harsh, intelligent, stubborn, giving, warm, cold: in other words, they are a complete package, not just what they are for this five minute visit to the tavern.

It was not easy. Sometimes it still is not. A girl has to "want it" pretty bad! That suits this one; she believes slavery is not for the weak in spirit, or mind, or heart. It is a decision that affects every aspect of a girl’s life, past, present, and future. It is not a thing easily discarded, not if the need and desire for it was truly felt in a girl to begin with.

Easy is, she suspects, overrated.

What she has learned, how she feels, what she has become and hopes to become, her wholeness, her happiness; not easy!

But oh, so worthwhile.

Property of Daniel
mickie~D~

Memories of Pow Wow

Once upon a time, a long time ago (which is about three years in cyberspace) this one got a computer. Although she was more than comfortable with her aloneness, when she discovered online "chat" she pretty much became an addict. Knowing very little about the internet, and having the default search engine of Yahoo, that was her first experience with online chat and she fairly haunted the 'normal' rooms. One evening, being rather bored by it all, she decided to see exactly what an adult room was. She ran into a BDSM room and was intrigued. The only thing she knew of any alternative lifestyles came from bad porn movies and very few of those. Not being at all versed in "cyberworlds" she never learned to create personas. She was real, the place was full of real people. She is still of that opinion even though now she recognizes that there are plenty of real people with cyber delusions.

Now it was common in those days for strange men called Goreans to make an appearance, late at night, in the yahoo BDSM rooms and put all the subs atwitter. The regular Doms paled in comparison to these men with their stalwart manner, their strange language, and their general ignoring of the more popular princess subs in favor of the questioning ones in the corner shadows--like this one. She struck the interest of one of them and he gave her a url. He said it was another BDSM room. In search of something less high schoolish, she went, totally blind, totally ignorant, totally barbarian. It was a Gorean Room on Pow Wow.

The Gor on powwow was rather at a pinnacle then. Then,the men were men, the women were slaves, and the very were lonely. Luckily, her first visit was during the daytime, with few about, and a Freeman (who she discovered later was not known for his patience with "subbies") took the time to explain to the scared witless newbie some of the basic principles and expectations of Gor: primarily Gorean hierarchy, how to recognize it, and what was the proper address for each faction. Another, who is well known but unfortunately rarely seen now, allowed her to serve him in her only-way-known "sub" fashion and very calmly pointed out where she would have to learn to change in order to be pleasing but that she had the makings of a kajira with time. She was enthralled.

She later met and spoke at length with the first girl of this room. At the time, knowing no different, she looked upon this girl as the epitome of the lifestyle since she was reputed to also be a real-time slave. This first girl gave her insight on who some of the Masters were, who to be careful around, and useful information about what collars were, how most begged a tavern collar first, and many websites and cardfiles about Gorean custom and phraseology. It was through the sites that she learned there were books. She immediately got her hands on some and began reading. She studied the web sites continually. She felt she had come home and it was all very very real--especially when some Man ordered her to jump and she was compelled squeak out a "how high, Master?".

Her first collar came about in an unexpected manner. She didn't know it, but the prevailing Pow custom requires a collar to be begged not forced. She believed the Gor books and the now known as "player adage" that entrance is consent to whatever happens. She honestly thought that if she were in the room of her own freewill, then she had to do whatever a man told her--at least as far as "Gor" was concerned. No one informed her differently. Her first evening with a full tavern became quite harrowing when two fringe Masters (read: HNG's) saw fresh meat and bum-rushed her. Being a barbarian without a clue, she threw herself at the feet of the Tavern owner and begged the tavern collar. She had only been to the one room. She had been on Gor three days.

She was taken by the owner and placed in white silks for training. Her branding, a ceremony which was enacted in pow religiously at the time (she rarely sees or hears of one now), was postponed for an evening when the Master could be present. She was told she would be trained by the first girl, having to call her "mistress", and instructed to do anything she told her. Which ended up being nothing. This one rarely saw the Master and when she did, warranted nothing other than a greeting. The first girl was in continual touch with this one, but more as a shoulder to cry on and not with instruction. Bewildered by this turn of affairs, this one studied on her own in blind leading the blind fashion.

The branding date arrived. As the "irons were firing" a Man this one had never seen by the name of Flanagan arrived with much fanfare and many welcome backs, good to see you, where the hell have you beens. For old time's sake, it became a bit of a joke between the owner of the tavern and Flanagan about who would have the pleasure of 'branding' the new girl. Flanagan won out. The duty taken care of, the Men turned to paga and redsilks and the newly branded whitesilk slinked off to the corner to watch, repeatedly opening the profile and picture that pow allows of this Master Flanagan, and remembering the various history stories of powgor from the first girl in which his name frequently arose. This one had been in Gor 8 days.

A few days followed. This one was in the tavern every waking moment (given that she is also an insomniac, that was quite a few moments) watching, trying to learn, and hoping to "see" Master Flanagan. She found out that "real time" in pow frequently consisted of a virtual/phone relationship only. She met no slaves that were "real time" live-in 24/7. She met many men, most of whom were well known and old guard as it were, but to whom she was primarily invisible as a whitesilk tavern slave. She underwent no formal training and had very little opportunity to interact since at that time, slaves did not interfere with the conversations of the free and the alpha-redsilks did the serving. Nowadays, it seems the slaves talk and the Masters are mostly in IMs offering a comment only occasionally. At that time, pow was much more graphic and sexual then it is now although it still maintained primarily one Master/one slave monogamy as now. This one didn't see or know what a Free Companion or slave chain was except from the books. This is beginning to change in pow.

One night, very late, she was in her usual corner silently watching two Master/slave couples being very graphic and explicit with their pleasures. It made her uncomfortable, but slaves didn't roam then as they do now--it was a general rule that no tavern slave be seen unescorted anywhere but in the tavern--and it never occurred to her to go back to regular or even BDSM chat. The man known as Flanagan was there as well, also not saying anything in the room. Although there is a rule that no slaves or Masters are to be Instant Messaged without either the slave begging, or the Master ordering the slave to IM in the room, he sent this one a question asking her if she were awake. To say she was floored with him having noticed her, much less speaking to her, is an understatement. A long philosophical, probing, "what are you looking for, girl" conversation moved into icq and extended to dawn.

From that late night conversation, this Master took a personal interest in this one. He directed her studies, He watched serves and positions. He answered questions about Gor and the lifestyle in general. This one had never previously been interested in, nor participated in, cybersex, but she found her whitesilk self firmly put back in her place whenever she made timid ventures in that direction. In pow, whitesilks often "indulge" on the sly even though they are publicly forbidden to do so. It is also not unusual for a man to keep his pleasure slave in whitesilk instead of placing her in redsilk and imposing restrictions. An unrestricted redsilk, as this one is now, is pretty much extinct. Master would have none of a whitesilk.

This one does think, however, that it was his pressing of the tavern owner that finally won this one her trial of whether she was ready to be a full tavern slave. At that time, if a girl "passed the test" she had her choice of what silk she would be: red, yellow, or she could beg release and be "black" and strike out on her own. A redsilk, tavern owned slave required the owners permission for use since supposedly a trained pleasure kajira would get a larger price than a tavern girl. A yellow silk did not require permission other than the price of a paga. Being totally unskilled in serving a man in a more intimate fashion, she thought to seek the more protective redsilk.

The night of her testing was totally bizarre. There was no warning which in and of itself is not that unusual. The tavern owner breezed in which his usual hurry. The first girl pops out that the whitesilks are ready (there were two of us). He snapped out three questions to each of us. This one's questions were: what are the 5 castes, what is one of a kajira's two primary functions (absolute obedience), and what is an ehn. The other whitesilk had similar questions: which caste is placed in the highest tier, what is the other kajira function, and what is an ubar. This one didn't really "know" the answers. She had received no formal instruction other than "read the tavern webpage". To answer the five castes, she flipped through Tarnsmen to find the answer. The phrase "absolute obedience" came out of her mouth since she had read it so often in the websites, but the "obedience" part was a guess. She looked up an ehn in the cardfile of definitions the first girl had given her the first day in Gor. Then, taking the first girl's word that we could indeed serve bazi tea, He pronounced us graduated and told us to inform the first girl what color silks we wanted to wear and left. This one slipped on her redsilks and was promptly carried out of the tavern by Flanagan. She had been in Gor 23 Days.

Now this one was no more a redsilk than a vulo. In fact, she probably had more in common with a vulo. From that point she was rarely seen in the tavern. She spent all her time cloistered with Flanagan, being given study assignments (especially after confessing how she flubbed the "test"), practicing serves as a redsilk, following orders to write a dance and to perform it in the tavern for him, in general, learning how to be pleasing to him. Dances in pow are usually composed before hand and cut and pasted during a performance, but entrances and serves are not to be macro. This one was wrong in that she served not the tavern she was collared to, but this Man who filled her world online and off. She got in a bit over her head one night with a larma fruit. Master had told her to look up larma and she could discover only that a larma was a fruit similar to an apple largely served with a brown honey sauce. When Master asked her that night in the tavern what was good to eat, she promptly went to show off her new knowledge by offering him larma. He accepted the offer, not only of the larma but the sexual use that was implicitly begged for by the act. After basking a bit in the results of that offer, she was taken to task and called a few unpleasant, unpublishable names by the first girl which amounted to her having disgraced the tavern by behaving so wantonly with men she didn't know and/or wasn't owned by (the first girl didn't know of the cloistered time of instruction in various things). It was then that she learned that being a "slut" to one other than one's owner was taboo in Pow Gor. Go figure. Master had a good laugh over it anyway.

The next night in the tavern, when the Owner mentioned he needed to "pay" Flanagan for services rendered to Koroba, Flanagan requested that the tavern's newest slave (the other one had promptly disappeared after receiving her silks)be given to him. The tavern owner was apparently relieved to get this unwanted responsibility off his hands and agreed readily. This one never begged, negotiated, or was told to put on a collar. He simply told her to heel and she heeled.

She had been in Gor 45 days.

Eight days after she had been given to Flanagan, she still wore a plain collar. She was not considered "collared" to Flanagan, only owned by him. There was a subtle difference at practice then in pow. Only personal pleasure slaves wore the initial behind their names. Tavern girls also wore initials of the tavern. Girls owned by a man but not "collared to a man" simply wore brackets and her owner was listed in her profile. She was usually considered in training or for sale as indicated. Now, the practice is to put such girls under "protection" rather than to own them. On the ninth day, she met the Master in a restaurant in HighPoint, NC, where he was on business. She spent her own vacation time with him. He took a couple of days after his business in NC was completed and visited this one at her home two hours away. When the visits were over, and virtual life resumed, an icq room was opened, this one was summoned, a long time friend of the Master was called in to record the transaction, and he snapped his collar about her neck with little ceremony. Again, no begging, no negotiations, no asking "do you want my collar", no nothing. He considered this one his, and took her. This one, well, decided it was not her place nor inclination to disagree. As strange as it may seem, virtual or not, she was his the moment he laid eyes on her before "sinking a brand" in her thigh. She resubmitted formally when she joined the Master in NY, after several months of frequent physical interaction, but she's never not considered herself his since the moment she "met" him.

Granted, this one's experience in pow was not at all common for the time. There were plenty of taverns out there that had full training regimens where the girls were watched, instructed, and had to "earn" their silks. Now, it seems the training is not as formal, and primarily left in the hands of the first girl with the Owners evaluating the results. It still seems a girl is expected to be honed and polished by the hands of a Master whenever he finds and takes her. Like all the realms this one has been to on Gor, pow has its problems with people making it up as they go along. There are men who profess to be Gorean but yet get their fingernails painted red by slaves as they doze in the corner. But there are still pockets of Gor in pow and strict Gor at that. There are slaves who are "real slaves" and either live with or carry on a linear world relationship-- other than phone interaction-- with the one who owns them online.

There are tavern slaves who have been in the lifestyle for years and are between owners either linear or virtual. Some real time owners, like this one's, have chains of virtual slaves to teach women who honestly seek to understand this world with a view to possible real time someday, and who do maintain a loose real time control over their property's lives via phone and/or visits. Some of the old guard has moved on to IRC, some stay in pow and attempt to educate, some have retreated to private rooms or ICQ for contact with other Goreans. Some, like the owner of this one, come and go--staying until they run into the proverbial rence that broke the kailla's back.

Although this one now knows her way about the books, and understands the philosophy of Goreans in general, and herself specifically, she still needs this virtual contact with other Goreans. This one has always been a secret submissive. Even though she is now a linear slave, she cannot forget that it was this online venue that led her here. When she runs into a true Gorean, she still feels that tingle in her spine as her shoulders straighten before the computer involuntarily.

She still wanders the realms gleaning bits of information, philosophy both personal and at large of various Goreans, contact with "someone who understands"-- always learning in spite of the inconsistencies out there. She still doesn't have a clue about the finer points of what a collar means either virtually or linear-- she just knows there is one about her neck.

She also knows whenever her brain tries to overload her rump through something she witnesses, learns, or questions, all she has to do is turn to the Master. Which she finds, no matter which online realm one inhabits, is how those such as she are meant to live anyway.

One of these days she hopes she'll more resemble a redsilk than a vulo-- but for now, the vulo is still ahead. But Master seems to be pleased with her progress. Maybe he just likes vulos.

sunny

Memories of AOL

This girl is honored to be able to share with you her experience within the AOL medium of Online Gor. This one thinks that perhaps she should begin with explaining what its like on AOL Gor-- what the general mentality is like. To many of its members, it is a game. It is a fantasy world where one can come and be a irate, a slave, a panther girl, a plainsman, a great rarius, or just a plain thief to wander the urt filled streets of Port Kar. The vast majority of these players maintain that it is just a game and so take up a poetic license.

They create female Rarius, Panther Girls who venture into the cities more than they do the forests, and men who willingly submit themselves to whatever female will take them. Within their ranks, however, there are those who, though they still view it all as a game, hold John Norman with enough respect that they wish to play their "game" as per Norman. A girl has found these tend to be the better role players more so than Goreans. The true Goreans do exist on AOL, though it is very hard for one to tell how many in number they are since they tend to stay within private rooms. A somewhat well known example of such would be Sardaria.

For her own part, this ones beginnings in Gor was as a player. She came to Gor with wide eyes at the new challenge of playing in such different surroundings from the online version of D∓D. Sure, the thought of women being treated with such blatant lack of respect sickened this girl at first. But she didn't realize at the time that it was all more than just some sick man's fetish of beating girls up. As a matter of fact, this one was flat out appalled at the thought of kneeling before a man and allowing Him to do whatever He wished with her.

But, being as this girl is, she was drawn to the challenge of playing a slave, to the challenge of controlling her own temper and emotions to be able to play the character as she should be played. Many people were eager to help this girl learn more. She went out and bought some of the books, visited web sites created specifically AOL Gor, and spoke with Masters, Mistress and sisters to get different inputs on the aspects of Gor. She studied the positions and serves and even practiced them alone in empty rooms.

It is very hard for this girl to remember her very first Master or the very first time she received a collar. One thing this girl can be sure of is that she had no clue as to what it really meant or signified. Through the three years she's spent playing AOL Gor, this girl has come across all the kinds of Masters she described earlier and even a few who seem to make classifications of their own.

To date, this one has had nine Masters that she can remember, and with each of these Masters she has received a different kind of training. Some people like to be asked before sweetening the rim, others prefer that you don't do it at all. Some insist that their girls wear chastity belts if they are white silks and out in public, others see it as a humiliating sign of a displeasing girl. She has had Masters who can not ever get enough of her, and others who barely acknowledge her existence. And a girl took all of this in stride, accepting different names and faces, changing herself to please the new Master she had acquired. None of this was a problem for her as it was all just a game to her, after all. The slave was merely a character in another game. She felt what the slave felt in so far as someone reading a book sympathizes with the main character, but she didn't really understand what was slowly developing within her

One Master, however, was able to make this girl see it in herself. He took her under His wing and showed her what it was to be a slave. He took the lines she had so carefully guarded between reality and fantasy and smudged them, making them incredibly fuzzy. Over time it became more and more difficult to tell the game from what a girl really felt. The more time this girl spent with Him, it became painfully clear to her what she truly was. A slave. His slave.

It was in Him that she learned about herself and what was inside of her. Despite the fact that this girl is no longer the property of the Master who showed her her own heart, she can still feel the yearning within her to serve and please. She understands more about who she is and what it is she needs in life to be happy: To make another happy.