Tal Goreans,
Greetings visitors,

Welcome once again to the Booknotes column.

She who has been known to us as Lady Sheila, Tatrix of Corcyrus, Tiffany Collins of Earth, or Lita the slave, was last seen apparently plotting her escape from the egregious Speusippus, a miscreant she once banished from Corcyrus as being a petty fraudster. Fortunately for her, she has surmised in time that this vile individual intended to deliver her to Argentum, where she would doubtless meet a horrible fate for her supposed deeds as Tatrix of Corcyrus (all of which, the reader may recall, were actually perpetrated in her name by her First Minister, Ligurious). He stood to make a lot of money out of this; we may well surmise that Tiffany, as we’ll call her for the moment, stood to lose her life. So we had better hope that her planned escape goes well, and we shall lose no time finding out.

Chapter Twenty-One

It is fortunate for Tiffany that she bucks the usual trend of slave escapes on Gor. Speusippus has been transporting her in only an iron-banded wooden chest, not a slave box, and with the aid of the sharp stone she was seen secreting about her person in the previous chapter, she manages with much labour and anxiety to effect an egress. She at once makes for the Viktel Aria, the great road to Ar, for a variety of sound reasons: she reasons that Speusippus will not expect her to stray nearer to Ar than she can help; she hopes that sleen will find it harder to scent her on a busy road, even if Speusippus can afford to rent sleen or is inclined to do so; and she expects to make better time.

She also hopes to establish contact with another slave caravan and solicit help from her sisters in bondage - aid that she seriously needs as she presently has nothing apart from a whole skin going for her.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Although she succeeds in finding the caravan and talking to the slaves, they have no spare food nor clothing, and no particular inclination to help her. While they are still arguing, Tiffany is advised to flee before the slave check takes place; but the warning comes too late and she is apprehended by the slavers.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Tiffany attempts to pass herself off as a free Gorean woman, and has remembered where she went wrong last time she tried to pass herself off as a citizen of Lydius, but her ignorance betrays her yet again. The slavers soon realize that she is from Earth (a “barbarian,” as they put it) as she has a smallpox vaccination scar and dental fillings, both unknown on Gor. She pleads not to be turned over to the authorities, which prompts the slavers to “try her out.” To her surprise, she responds to this in no uncertain terms.

In the light of this, the slavers decide not to turn her over, but instead to make her a mill slave who will be called “Tiffany,”and promise that she will be branded and collared shortly. Under the circumstances, Tiffany is duly grateful. True, she doubts that once she is inside a slave-worked Gorean mill she will ever see the light of day again, for professional slavers will not make the same mistake Speusippus made. On the other hand, she will be fed, sheltered and cared for, and her life will surely no longer be forfeit. And she certainly feels a kind of sexual awakening that suggests that slavery, in whatever form, is entirely right and proper for her.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Tiffany is admitted to the linen mills of Mintar of Ar (possibly that same Mintar whom Tarl Cabot knew, many years ago) where she becomes Slave Number 4073 and makes the aquaintance of Emily, a Gorean-born girl with an Earth name, this being a common practice on Gor; and also Luta, a rather larger and uglier woman who despises slutty slaves and still seems to retain some vestige of defiance over her new condition. All of them are assigned to the care of a whip master named Borkon, who quickly addresses Luta’s attitude problem but finds Tiffany and Emily much more docile.

Chapter Twenty-Five

After spending some five months in this Gorean sweatshop, though perhaps no worse a sweatshop than any Industrial Revolution-era textile mill (except for being put from time to time to the sexual use of a guard whose idea of foreplay consists of saying “Lie there and juice. Waste no time about it,” Tiffany finds herself being shoved in a sack and stowed away somewhere. She has nothing much to occupy her except the bruises that a jealous Luta has put on her face in jealousy at Borkon’s preference for her; but she is not left in the sack for long. When she is liberated, it is by someone further up the management chain than Borkon, who seems amused to see her and remarks that Borkon has been holding out on them.

With Emily, Tiffany is soon being looked over by Aemilianus, Mintar’s nephew. He decides that these two are too pretty to be mill girls and has them removed. This displeases Borkon, but gives Luta a clear run at him, and she is not slow to offer herself in their stead. Although Borkon’s initial reaction is one of scorn, he seems to be considering it, at least.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Tiffany now undergoes training as a house slave, learning Gorean slavery from the very bottom up having started out as a mere work slave. She and Emily are being trained by Teela, a more experienced slave whom they must address as “Mistress” for the present time. They are soon put to the test, as Aemilianus is entertaining guests, and Teela advises her girls that, if they do not wish to return to the mill the next day, they had better prove exceptionally pleasing.

They do their best, but are distressed not to be at once put to use by the handsome Aemilianus and his friends. It seems that the men have weightier matters to discuss first; politics and business, and especially a venture that Aemilianus has in mind. He is considering forming a kind of “rent-an-orgy” business, whereby customers will hire an entire entertainments package including, of course, a number of kajirae; and he has had the original and clever idea of mining the mills’ workforces for cheap raw materials, of which Tiffany and Emily are two prime examples. The guests are much taken with Tiffany, and one even offers Aemilianus a silver tarsk for her, to Tiffany’s considerable pride as she remembers being rated by Drusus Rencius at a much lower price. But she is not to be sold for now; rather, she is to be put in for some more advanced training, and in order that she not be too tired to attend to her lessons, she is not put to slave use that night as Teela and Emily both are. Emily indeed is to be reserved to Aemilianus’s own use, and she considers herself greatly fortunate.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Tiffany is taught a great many lessons on a whole variety of subjects; movement, hairstyles, how to bathe before a man; how to assist at a man’s bath; even how to bake biscuits. She addresses herself to these lessons, as do her fellow students, assiduously and well, and in the fullness of time she completes her classes, as do they, with the news that they have passed their examinations.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

This is the occasion for Tiffany to serve at a mock banquet, as a graduation exercise. She has to display herself to one of the examiners as to a master whom she is anxious to interest in her, and she succeeds in doing so. She is observed by Emily, whom Aemilianus has had sent away and who is to begin the same training as Tiffany has just completed. Emily is unhappy, but Tiffany comforts her with the thought that perhaps Aemilianus is anxious to avoid becoming over-fond of her, and we have certainly seen such before.

Upon the completion of the exercise, Tiffany and her fellow students are sent off to begin work at Aemilianus’s new agency. She gives her school a backwards glance as she goes.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The next two months are much to Tiffany’s liking. Aemilianus’s business venture takes off in the grand manner, which means frequent engagements for Tiffany’s ensemble. True, this means being put to slave use on a regular basis - every three or four days to begin with, and more frequently still as the agency’s reputation grows - but Tiffany for one does not mind this, and nor do the other girls as, once ignited to slave heat, they become frustrated if they do not have sex every few days. And otherwise the agency girls’ lot is not an unhappy one, with enough time for rest mandated by Aemilianus, so that they will not be too tired to perform properly, and considerable liberty within city limits while they are not on duty, and no heavy labour to perform.

But at one feast in particular Tiffany is distressed to make the acquaintance of Hassan the slave hunter. This man uses trained sleen to find missing persons, and he is an acknowledged master of his craft. It is said that he has successfully followed trails two or even three months cold, and Tiffany learns that he is on the trail of Sheila, the Tatrix of Corcyrus, on whose head there is now a 1500-tarn price. She finds Hassan frightening and is forced to dissemble as to why, especially when he remarks the physical resemblance between her and the fugitive Tatrix. But his interest in the pursuit of Lady Sheila does not detract from his putting Tiffany to thorough and uncompromising use.

And at this point we may share in Tiffany’s concerns. We know - we have often seen in the books of Gor to date - what sleen are capable of. Can it be that Hassan is capable of making good on his boast, and that his sleen can track down the very Tatrix of Corcyrus hidden among the million or so people within Ar’s walls? A heroic feat, to be sure: and yet, perhaps, not an unthinkable one when set against the other amazing deeds we have witnessed in the preceding eighteen books. Tiffany’s prospects appear poor if she is indeed run to earth; as we know, she expects no other fate than an impaling spear, which would indeed be a shame when she seems finally to have settled into a moderately enjoyable and acceptable lifestyle. Meanwhile, what of Drusus Rencius, and the machinations of Ligurious, former First Minister of Corcyrus? There are questions yet to be resolved, and resolve them we shall, but not until next month, when we discover the eventual fate of Tiffany Collins, Kajira of Gor.

I wish you well,

Socrates