Gorean Commands and Positions

Perform

“Very well, Red Silk Girl,” said I, “perform.”
“Yes, Master,” said she, obediently.
And, as the hour progressed, perform she did, and superbly so, and I knew that had I been a prospective buyer I would have bid high indeed for the skilled, sensuous little wench in my arms, so striving with all her quickness and beauty to please me. Sometimes I was forced to remind myself that she was Miss Elizabeth Cardwell of Earth, and not, as she lost herself uncontrollably in our pleasures, hands clutching at the slave ring, a Gorean slave girl, bred for the pleasures of a master.  ASSASSIN OF GOR; 5; Pages 57-58

“You may now engage in female display behaviors,” I said.
“I do not know any,” she said.
I laughed.
“I am not a lewd girl,” she said.
“Does the slave have pride?” I asked.
“No, Master,” she said.
“Perform,” I said.
“I do not know how,” she wept. “I do not know how!”
“Peel away the hideous encrustations of your antibiological conditioning,” I told her. “Hidden in every cell in your body, in the genetic codes of each minute cell, the product of a long, complex evolution, lie the marvels of which I speak. In the deepest part of your brain lies the provocation to these truths. You are the result of thousands upon thousands of women who have pleased men. Evolution has selected for such women. Do not tell me that you do not know these behaviors. Deny them, if you will, but they have been bred into you. They are a part of your very being. They are, my sweet slave, in your very blood.”
“No,” she wept.
“Perform,” I said.
She threw back her head with misery, and clutched at her hair and then, suddenly, startled, her hands at her hair, looked at me, her eyes wide. The line of her breasts had been lifted nicely.
“Yes,” I said, “consult the animal in you.”
“What am I doing?” she wept.
She now sat, and extended her leg, and took her right ankle in her hands, and moved her hands slowly from her ankle to her calf. Her toes were pointed, emphasizing the sweet curve of her calf.
“Is it not now coming back to you?” I asked. “Is it not almost like a memory, a kinesthetic and intellectual recollection? Are you not now getting in touch with certain feared basic and rudimentary feelings and reactions? Can you not, now, begin to sense the ancient truths, those of the female before the male?”
“I am frightened,” she whispered.
“Build up the fire,” I said.
“Master?” she asked.
“That I may better see my female perform.”
“Yes, Master,” she said.
...
“What did you do?” I asked.
“I moved before him,” she said, “as a slave.”
“Do so now,” I said, “precisely, in every detail, as you did in your dream.”
“Ah!” she said. “How clever you are, Master. How cleverly you have tricked me!”
I regarded her, not speaking.
“It is again a matter of female display behaviors, is It not?” she asked.
“Of course,” I said.
“But these behaviors,” she said, “would now be extracted from my most intimate and secret dreams.”
I did not speak.
“You are a bold, demanding master,” she said,
I did not speak.
“Do not make a girl so expose her needs,” she begged.
“The slave girl must honestly expose her needs,” I said. “The hypocrisy of the free woman, her concealment, her subterfuges, her lies, are not permitted to the female slave.”
“Oh, Master,” she wept, miserably.
“Are you prepared to perform?” I asked.
“Do not so violate the privacy of a girl’s dreams!” she begged.
“You have no privacy,” I said. “You belong to me.”
“Am I not to be permitted the least vestige of my pride?” she asked.
“No,” I told her.
“I am a slave,” she said.
“Yes,” I said.
“I shall now perform for my master,” she said.
“Do so,” I said, “and precisely, in each and every detail, as In your dream.”
“Yes, my master,” she said. She looked at me. “Remember,” she said, “that I was forced to do this, that I not be hurled to the waiting jaws of crocodiles, beasts much like river tharlarion. That I not suffer so horrible a fate I knew that I must please him well, and as the slave which I had now been proven to be.”
“For your very life you performed,” I said.
“Yes, Master,” she said, “as a terrified slave,”
“Perform,” I commanded.
Almost instantaneously she seemed transformed. I was startled. I found myself, for the first time, partner to a woman’s dream. How vividly she was re-enacting the experience. Nay, how intensely was she reliving it. I could sense almost the high, oblong stone, that rude, barbaric eminence, on which, cross-legged, sat her master. I could almost sense the torches, the pool of reptiles to one side, the rude altar, with its rings, in the background. I could almost feel and see the savages, those red men and women, in their ornate robes and feathers, in the midst of whom a white beauty, freshly enslaved, piteously strove to save her life by pleasing her stern red master.
I watched her perform. I marveled. I think that no one will ever again be able to lie to me about women. How incredibly exciting and marvelous they are! What a fool a man is who does not seek, and release, the deepest slave in them!  EXPLORERS OF GOR; 13; Pages 316-328

She then, gently, removed the bark skirt from her hips and dropped it to the side.
She then flexed her knees and lifted her hands, the backs of the wrists facing one another, gracefully over her head.
“Wait,” I said.
“Master?” she asked.
“Have you begged to perform?” I asked.
“No, Master,” she said.
“You may now do so,” I said.
“I beg to perform before my master,” she said.
“Very well,” I mid. “You may do so.”
“Thank you, Master,” she said.
She then danced before me, of her own free will, a girl in need, and one desiring to please her master.
Her dance grew ever more desperate and, at times, I had to throw her from me.  EXPLORERS OF GOR; 13; Page 360

Then I took her by the hair and drew her close to me.
“Master?” she asked.
“Perform,” I told her.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
I then forced her head downward and held her in place, as is common with slaves.
“You are skilled,” I told her.
She moaned softly.
“Quite skilled,” I said.
She moaned again, a sweet, soft, piteous moan.  EXPLORERS OF GOR; 13; Page 368

“Men do this to us,” she said. “They make us this way, and then they decide whether or not they will even touch us!”
“Sometimes, too, as I understand it,” I said, “a girl is made to perform.”
“Perform?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said, “she is made, so to speak, to earn her havings.”
“Yes, Master,” she said. “That is not uncommon.”
“Are you prepared to work for your havings,” I asked, “to earn them?”
“Yes, Master,” she said. “I will do anything.”
“But you must do anything anyway,” I said, “for you are a slave.”
“Yes, Master,” she moaned. “Yes, Master.”
I looked down upon her.
She squirmed, and clenched her small fists. There were tears in her eyes.
“I am in need,” she said.
I crouched next to her, and felt her, gently. She pressed her small, hot, wet, rounded belly into my hand, her eyes closed.
“I see that you do not lie,” I said.
“No, Master,” she said.  BLOOD BROTHERS OF GOR; 18; Page 182

He stood up, then, and, with a snap, shook out the leash, and then, looping it drew it back a bit towards him. He would play it out, or draw it in, as it pleased him, varying his perspective, and my distance from him, as I squirmed, and writhed and posed, from as little as an inch or two to the full length of the leash, something in the neighborhood of a full fifteen feet.
“Perform,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said, and performed.
I performed as excitingly and seductively as possible.
“More lewdly,” he would sometimes say, “more salaciously, more lasciviously!”
“Yes, Master!” I would try, and try to please him even more.  KAJIRA OF GOR; 19; Page 339
 

Kudos to you, Mr. Norman for writing the Gorean series!
A rich, yet utterly simple saga; a world, a time, a people;
those of the Counter-Earth .. the planet .. Gor.
Thank you!

The material presented herein was researched and compiled by me, naia{Saul}.
The material referenced comes from John Norman's Gor Series, The Counter-Earth Saga.
This is a work in process.
Please, do not take, copy, duplicate, or use this work as your own.
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