Gorean Commands and Positions

Sula

Sula and a varied form of the same.

“Lesha,” snapped the second officer to the blond girl.
She spun from facing him, and lifted her chin, turning her head to the left, placing her wrists behind her, as though for snapping them into slave bracelets.
“Nadu!” he snapped.
She swiftly turned, facing him, and dropped to her knees. She knelt back on her heels, her back straight, her hands on her thighs, her head up, her knees wide.
It was the position of the pleasure slave.
“Sula, Kajira!” said the man.
She slid her legs from under her and lay on her back, her hands at her sides, palms up. her legs open.
“Bara, Kajira!” he said.
She rolled quickly to her stomach, placing her wrists behind her, crossed, and crossing her ankles, ready to be bound.
“She is a pretty thing,” said Ulafi, and turned away.
“Yes,” I said.
“Sula!” said the man. “Bara! Nadu! Lesha! Nadu! Bara! Sula! Nadu!”
The girl was gasping. There were tears in her eyes, as she knelt on the deck. Once she had been struck when her transition between two of the movements had been insufficiently beautiful. Another time she had been struck when her response had been insufficiently prompt.  EXPLORERS OF GOR; 13; Pages 76-77

Shoka, recollecting her, had now returned to the vicinity of the blond-haired barbarian. She did not know he was behind her. “Bara!” he called. “Sula! Nadu! Lesha! Sula! Bara! Nadu!” Instantaneously she performed. Then she was again kneeling, as before.  EXPLORERS OF GOR; 13; Page 82

Then she was on her belly, whimpering, scratching at the turf, her face pressed against it. Delicately she extended her tongue and licked a stone. Then, moaning, she rolled onto her back and twisted, moving her head from side to aide, in the dirt before me. The firelight was beautiful on her body. I think there was no aspect or attitude of her beauty which she had not, pleadingly, presented before me for my inspection and appraisal. Then she lay on her back, her knees drawn up, before me. She arched her back. Her breasts were lifted beautifully. I observed their lovely rise and fall, correlated with the respiratory cycle of her small lungs. Then she lay back, her shoulders in the dirt, and pressing against the earth with her small feet, piteously lifted before me, for my examination, and seizure, if I pleased, the deep belly of her, the sweet cradle of her slave’s heat. How vulnerable are female slaves! I rose to my feet. my fists clenched. She lay back, before me, at my feet “It was thus,” she said, “that I tried to please him.” I scrutinized, from head to toe, the naked slave who lay at my feet I could feel my fingernails in the palms of my hand. I gritted my teeth. I must not now take her. She was not yet fully ready. One must sometimes be patient with slaves. The next time I took her, I resolved, she would be a well-prepared feast. On the occasion of that feast it was my intention to teach the girl who she was, truly, to free at long last the hidden slave which was her secret self, her true self, that girl which, hitherto, had been permitted to emerge only in the disguise of clandestine dreams, that piteous girl, denied and suppressed, who had been for so long so cruelly imprisoned in the dungeon of her mind. I would free the secret slave from her dungeon; then I would make her mine. I would call her ‘Janice’.  EXPLORERS OF GOR; 13; Pages 328-329

I stood up, as though angry. With the whip I gestured her to her belly on the soft, deeply piled carpet. She trembled, lying transversely on the carpeting near the edge of the dais, before the curule chair, her hands beside her head, her fingers clutching at the piling. “He conquered me, fully, and as a slave,” she said. “I confess ill” I examined her form dispassionately, and found it not displeasing. I then, with deft touches of the whip, indicated that she should turn to her back and lie in a certain position. With the sound of slave bells she did so. She then lay on her back, before me. Her body and left leg lay on the dais. Her right leg, and her right arm and hand, were on the broad stair, leading to the height of the dais. Her hands were below her hips, both that to her left, and right, which was on the stair. The palms of both hands were turned upwards, exposed to me.
“Yes,” she wept, “he conquered me! Forgive me, Master! I am only a female, and a weak slave!” I examined her beauty. It was that of a slave. It was ravishing. ‘How fortunate is this fellow, Jason of Victoria,” I thought to myself, smiling inwardly, ‘to have conquered himself such a prize.’ Some men conquer themselves. Others conquer women. “I love you, Master,” she said. “I love you. I love you!” She lifted her belled wrists, her small hands, supplicatingly, piteously extended to me. “Forgive me, my Master,” she said. “Do not kill me. I do not wish to die. Let me placate you! Let me placate you!”  GUARDSMAN OF GOR; 16; Pages 193-194
 

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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