"John Norman - Gor 07 - Captive of Gor" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norman John)

Captive of Gor

John Norman

Chronicles of Counter-Earth Volume 7

1 - THE BRAND

The following account is written at the command of my master, Bosk of Port Kar,
the great merchant, and, I think, once of the warriors.

My name was Elinor Brinton. I had been independently wealthy.

There is much I do not understand. Let others find what meaning they can in this
narrative.

I gather that my story is neither as unique, nor as strange, as it may seem. By
the standards of Earth, I was regarded as extremely beautiful. Yet on this world
I am a fifteen-goldpiece girl, more lovely than many, yet far excelled by many
whose stunning beauty I can only envy. I was purchased for the kitchens of the
house of Bosk. Traders, I have learned, ply the slave routes between this world
and Earth. Women, among other goods, are acquired and brought to the markets of
this strange world. If you are beautiful, and desirable, you may fear.

Apparently they may do what they wish.

Yet I think there are perhaps worse fates that might befall a woman than to be
brought to this world, even as a prize of men.

My master has told me not to describe this world in great detail. I do not know
why that is, but I shall not do so. He has told me to narrate primarily what has
occurred to me. And he has asked me to put down my thoughts and, particularly,
my emotions. I wish to do so. Indeed, even if I did not wish to do so, I would
have to obey.

Suffice it then to say but little of my background and condition.

I was expensively educated, if not well educated. I endured a succession of
lonely years at boarding schools, and later at one of the finest women's
colleges in the northeastern portion of the United States. These years seem to
me now oddly empty, even frivolous. I had had no difficulty in obtaining fine
grades. My intelligence, it seems to me, was good, but even when my work seemed
to me inferior, it was rated highly, as indeed, was that of my sorority sisters.
Our parents were wealthy and substantial grants to the schools and colleges were
often made following our graduations. Also, I had never found men, and many of
my instructors were such, hard to please. Indeed, they seemed eager to please
me. I was failed in one course, in French. My instructor in this case was a
woman. The Dean of Students, as was his wont in such circumstances, refused to
accept the grade. I took a brief examination with another instructor, and the
grade became an A. The woman resigned from the school that Spring. I was sorry,