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Editorial Gazette of Gor inworld edition 143

Editorial Gazette of Gor inworld edition 143

In the sprawling digital landscapes of Second Life Gor, we often enter with the intent of immersing ourselves in roleplay: to don the mantle of warriors, slaves, builders, and tribesmen, shaping our fates through story. Yet as many of us have discovered, the boundaries between “in character” and “out of character” can blur, and what begins as play may evolve into something deeper, something profoundly human.

This issue of the Gazette of Gor explores the ways virtual bonds extend into real life. For some, joining a tribe in Gor is about forging a role within a fictional society. But with time, conversations stray beyond the game’s walls. We share laughter about daily life, lend an ear in difficult moments, and slowly, the avatar becomes less important than the person behind it. In these moments, a tribe is no longer just a digital construct, it is a family.

Stories gathered here reflect that truth: friendships that crossed continents, romances that blossomed from whispered roleplay, and support systems that grew out of nightly conversations in camps and taverns. Not every connection translates beyond the screen, but those that do remind us that even in a world built of code and imagination, authenticity thrives.

Some may dismiss online relationships as fleeting, yet those who have lived them know their weight. Bonds formed in the fires of roleplay can carry into the real, proving that even in fantasy, the heart recognizes sincerity.

As you read through this issue, remember: Gor is not only about the sagas we craft within its world. It is also about the bridges we build between our own.

Gazette of Gor

https://gazetteofgor.wordpress.com

Thanks to Vigdis Vyper (michelefermion) who made a new distribution system for the Gazette of Gor I made a new inworld edition of the Gazette of Gor. If you want to have a Gazette of Gor dispenser on your dock please contact me and I will put the dispenser on your dock. Be sure to have version 2B (the light green one) on your dock. The older versions don’t work anymore.

The Gazette of Gor is sponsered by:

Soph Tattoos at 

(Some Images and some texts are AI generated)

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Content

1. Gor as a lifestyle – Part 1 Philosophy

2. Gor as a lifestyle – Part 2 Training

3. Gor as a lifestyle – Part 3 Surrender

4.. Becoming a kajira in real life

5. The Collar Between Worlds

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1. Gor as a lifestyle – Part 1 Philosophy

By day, Ingrid was a diligent real estate assistant, professional, polite, and always dressed in neat business attire. She was 22, with a tall, elegant frame, deep brown eyes, and thick, dark hair that fell in waves down her back. Her colleagues knew her as quiet but competent, always with a slight smile and a focused demeanour. But when the sun dipped below the skyline and she returned to her modest apartment, Ingrid became someone else entirely.

She became Luna.

Luna lived in the world of Second Life, specifically in the virtual realm of Gor. In that universe, she played the role of a kajira, a female slave trained to serve, obey, and please. She wore the virtual silks proudly, took orders from powerful Free Men and Women, and revealed in the structure, sensuality, and intensity of the Gorean world.

Each evening, she slipped into her digital persona, surrendering to the immersive roleplay that gave her a sense of freedom through obedience, a strange but beautiful contradiction. Her inbox overflowed with messages, most from men who admired her beauty and sought to dominate her. Some were crude, others charming, but all of them, to Luna, felt like fantasy.

Except one.

The message came late on a Tuesday night. The subject simply read: “A different kind of proposition.“ Intrigued, Luna clicked it open.

Dear Luna,

I have watched you from a distance, and I must say, there is something exquisite about the way you carry yourself, even in a virtual world. You understand the depth of Gor, not just as a game, but as a philosophy.

My name is Mira. I’m 32, and I live in a house nestled in the woods, secluded, elegant, and built for the lifestyle I’ve chosen to live. I am not like the others who send you messages. I am not a man, nor am I seeking empty fantasies. I am a Mistress, a true Free Woman, and I have trained slaves in the real world, not just in Second Life.

Yes, Luna. Gor is not just a world we pretend to live in. For some of us, it is real. We breathe its rules, its order, its pleasure. And I believe you are ready to take your first step into that world. Truly.

I invite you to my home. You will not simply play a role, you will become a kajira. You will be collared, trained, transformed into a living embodiment of beauty, discipline, and submission. You will learn to serve, not only in obedience but in elegance. You will be groomed, cherished, and yes, used.

Imagine walking beside me, nude save for your collar, in the city, or resting at my feet in a quiet restaurant, adored and envied. You will be more than mine. You will be art.

If your heart races as you read this, then you are already halfway mine.I await your answer.

Mira

Ingrid read the message three times, her heart thudding in her chest. It was bold. Erotic. Seductive in a way that no digital message had ever been. But more than anything, it felt… real. She clicked on Mira’s profile. It wasn’t empty. There were photos, candid and elegant. Mira was stunning: shoulder-length black hair with a silver streak, strong cheekbones, intelligent eyes, and an air of calm authority. Her photos showed glimpses of her home, modern yet warm, with wood and stone elements, and a subtle yet ever-present theme of dominance and sensuality.

Ingrid couldn’t stop thinking about the message.

For days, she played as Luna, but it all felt pale in comparison now. The idea of living it, actually being trained, groomed, collared, invaded her thoughts constantly. She had always fantasized, but never dared. What would it be like? Would she lose herself or finally find herself?

She wrote back.

Mira,

Your message… moved me. I’ve always kept the Gorean world behind a screen, but what you offer feels like an awakening. I won’t pretend I’m not afraid but I am more curious than frightened. I want to know what it means to serve, not just in game, but truly. I want to be a kajira, for real.

Please tell me when to come.

Luna

Mira replied the next day with simple instructions.

You will arrive next Friday. Pack nothing but your toothbrush. You won’t need clothes. You won’t need your old life. Only your will to surrender and your desire to be remade.

I will be waiting.

That Friday, Ingrid took a train, then a cab, and finally followed a winding dirt road through the forest. At the end of it stood a house, half-hidden by trees, its tall windows glowing warmly in the dusk. Mira stood on the porch, wrapped in a simple silk robe, her gaze steady and piercing.

Without a word, she held out a leather collar.

Ingrid undressed and stepped forward, her fingers trembling.

Luna was born.

Mariko Marchant

Image AI generated

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2. Gor as a lifestyle – Part 2 Training

The first morning in Mira’s home began before sunrise. Luna, no longer Ingrid, was woken by the gentle chime of a bell. She had slept naked on a soft mat beside Mira’s bed, as instructed, her collar locked snugly around her neck. As she rose to her knees, Mira watched her with a serene but firm gaze.

“There is no room for laziness in a kajira,” Mira said. “You rise early. You serve early. And you must be flawless.”Thus began Luna’s training.

Every morning started with bathing and grooming. Mira taught her how to wash herself properly, slowly, sensually, with grace. Her hair was brushed until it gleamed, her nails manicured, skin moisturized. “A kajira must be radiant,” Mira whispered, “not for herself, but to please the one who owns her.”

Luna wore worn red silks when not nude, thin, flowing garments that left little to the imagination. They whispered of her status, her availability, her submission. She learned to walk with poise, one foot before the other, head slightly bowed, back straight. Every movement was trained to express devotion and beauty.

Rules were strict.

She could not speak unless spoken to.

She ate from the floor, kneeling, only after Mira had finished.

She slept at Mira’s feet unless commanded otherwise.

She was always to present herself gracefully, even in silence, especially in silence.

There were positions she had to master: nadu, bara, tower. Each was drilled into her body until they became second nature. Mira’s voice was her guide, and her discipline, though rare, was never to be questioned. A disobedient kajira was corrected, not cruelly, but firmly. The collar around her neck was never removed, a symbol of her place, her surrender, her belonging.

Yet Mira was not only strict. She was intoxicating.

Their evenings were slow-burning rituals of control and surrender. Mira would call Luna to her with a single word, and Luna would kneel, heart racing. Her service was erotic, physical, emotional. Mira taught her not only to obey, but to feel, to take pride in the way she pleased, to understand that her submission was not weakness, but exquisite power.

“I don’t want a robot,” Mira once said, tracing her fingers along Luna’s jaw. “I want fire. Controlled fire. A beautiful thing that burns only for me.”

Luna learned to dance for her Mistress, slow, hypnotic movements that turned obedience into art. She served wine, massaged her feet, offered her body, always with grace, always with desire in her eyes. Mira used her often, erotically and intensely, but never without care. Every encounter deepened their connection, until Luna no longer remembered the life she had lived before.

And Mira did not keep her hidden.

She took Luna into the world.

They went to quiet upscale restaurants, where Luna sat at her Mistress’s side in red silks, her collar catching the light. Strangers stared, unsure of what they were witnessing, a beautiful woman with downcast eyes, perfectly obedient, yet visibly proud of her place.

They walked on beaches at dusk, Mira clothed in elegant linen, Luna nude but adorned, anklets, collar, long flowing hair. Mira would stroke her cheek gently in public, whispering praise, or correction. Luna blushed, but she never protested. This was her life now.

Once, while walking through a city park, a woman approached Mira.

“She’s beautiful,” the woman said, glancing at Luna. “Is she yours?”

Mira smiled softly. “Yes. She is mine in every way.”

And Luna’s heart swelled with joy.

Mariko Marchant

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3. Gor as a lifestyle – Part 3 Surrender

The world of Gor, created by author John Norman in his long-running science fiction series, is a planet governed by a rigid hierarchical and patriarchal system that sharply contrasts with modern egalitarian ideals. In this society, women are typically subjugated to men. Many live as Kajirae, female slaves trained to obey and serve their masters completely. Yet even within this strict framework of dominance and submission, human nuances, desires, and hidden emotions emerge. One of the most intriguing aspects of this world is the emergence of lesbian relationships between Kajirae, often secret and forbidden, yet deeply human and tender.

The Structure of Power and Sexuality on Gor

In the Gorean universe, relationships and sexuality are typically defined by power structures. The dominant man (Free Man) and the submissive woman (Kajira) form the typical sexual paradigm. Love in this context is rarely romantic or equal; rather, it revolves around ownership, control, and aesthetics. A woman, in the eyes of Gorean society, is not only subordinate but also an object of desire, trained, shaped, and punished as needed.

However, Kajirae are not soulless entities. They think, feel, and long for connection. While they must publicly serve their masters, they often form deep emotional bonds with each other in the shadows of this hierarchy. These bonds arise out of shared suffering, solidarity, or simply the basic human need for warmth in a world where personal autonomy is stripped away.

The Emergence of Forbidden Relationships

In slave kennels, training houses, or homes where multiple Kajirae live together, close friendships often form. These friendships sometimes blossom into physical and emotional intimacy. Though Gor’s society leaves little room for female autonomy, let alone female homosexuality, it is nearly impossible to suppress such relationships entirely.

These lesbian relationships are typically secret. If discovered, the women risk severe punishment by their master or overseer. This creates an atmosphere of tension and danger, which sometimes only deepens the emotional intensity. Their bond is not merely physical, it is also psychological: a form of resistance to the dehumanizing system they live in.

For many, the love between two Kajirae is not a political act, but a spontaneous and natural development. It is a human expression that persists even in an environment designed to crush such individuality. For some women, it is the only form of affection where they feel safe and truly understood.

Ambiguity and Permissibility

John Norman’s books rarely address lesbian relationships explicitly. When they do appear, they are often framed voyeuristically, from the perspective of a male observer. Still, there is room for interpretation. In descriptions of the intimacy between Kajirae, their care for one another and how they interact in the absence of men, there are subtle hints of something deeper than friendship. Fans have picked up on these elements and created fan fiction and alternate readings where lesbian relationships take center stage.

Some male masters in the books tolerate sexual interaction between Kajirae as a form of entertainment or training. In these cases, the acts are not seen as threatening to the hierarchy, as long as the women ultimately remain obedient to the man. This creates a paradox: female intimacy may exist, but only if it serves the sexual pleasure of the man. Genuine love or romance between women remains suppressed or ignored.

Conclusion: Love in the Shadows

Lesbian relationships on Gor are not merely sexual diversions, but often deep emotional bonds that arise despite—or perhaps because of—oppression. They form a hidden layer within the dominant patriarchal system. These relationships are not just expressions of love, but also survival mechanisms: small bastions of freedom within chains of slavery.

Though Gor is a world of domination and submission, the existence of these secret relationships shows that human connection and desire cannot be fully extinguished by laws or chains. The love between Kajirae may be forbidden, but it is no less real. In fact, it is in their secrecy that their strength is found.

Mariko Marchant

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4. Becoming a kajira in real life

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Second life IM from Sylvie to Tania

Tania,

Attend to these words with care, for they are written with purpose and intent. Our journey together, bound first within the realms of Gor in Second Life, has been no passing play of idle hours. It has been a weaving of symbols, gestures, and vows, a shaping of roles that echo older, deeper truths. You have carried yourself as slave, and I as Mistress, not in mockery nor in game alone, but in reverence to an order that speaks to both our hearts.

Yet no true bond may forever remain veiled in the mists of the unreal. The time has come to step beyond the shadow of the screen and into the dawn of the tangible world. Fate has placed us near to one another in life as in play, and I cannot but believe this nearness is not accident but design.

Therefore I summon you to a meeting, solemn and deliberate. Let it be held at sunrise, when the light first crowns the world, at the place of stone and silence,  the ruin that stands apart, deserted yet steadfast, like a sentinel of forgotten days. There, amid its broken arch and ivy-bound walls, we shall meet not as passing avatars but as women who have carried across worlds the weight of choice and the meaning of service.

I shall come clad in the garb of an earlier age, as befits the solemnity of the hour: a woman draped in medieval attire, bearing the bearing of one who commands. You, if you would honour the path you have walked, will present yourself as the slave you have been in spirit, adorned as a kajira, humble, unadorned save for the truth of your place.

Know this: no word of command shall bind you. No chain of iron shall compel you. The choice will rest wholly within your own heart. When we stand face to face beneath the newborn sun, you will decide. If it is your will to pass from fantasy into truth, then you will bend the knee before me. That act alone, simple yet irrevocable, shall be the sign of your submission, not as play, but as covenant.

At that moment, if you kneel, I shall place upon you the collar. It shall be no ornament of vanity, but the mark of belonging and of order. It will signify that you are mine, and that your service is given not in jest but in earnest, unconditionally, as is fitting for one who embraces the path of the slave under the philosophy of Gor. From that hour forth, you shall serve not as words on a screen, but as flesh and will bound in truth.

If you choose otherwise, if you remain standing, then so it shall be. I will accept your decision without reproach, and you shall depart free of obligation. To have come at all will have shown courage, and I shall honour it.

Thus I call you, Tania, to the threshold between two worlds. Let the ruin at sunrise be our witness. Let the morning light consecrate what is chosen. Come with reverence, come with resolve, and know that in this meeting the bond we have spoken of shall either be sealed or released.

I await you.

Sylvie

Mariko Marchant

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5. The Collar Between Worlds

Sylvie had always loved the way Second Life blurred the boundaries between imagination and truth. Behind her avatar’s shimmering blonde hair and austere leather, she had discovered a strength that her ordinary life often demanded but rarely allowed. In the world of Gor, she was not a divorced woman in her mid-thirties trying to find her footing again, she was a Mistress. Confident. Decisive. Absolute.

Tania had been drawn to that strength from the moment they met in a crowded digital marketplace. At twenty-seven, she had wandered into Gor uncertain and curious, creating her first slave character with trembling fingers. When Sylvie had spoken to her, direct, commanding, yet oddly gentle, Tania had felt something stir that she had longed for but never found: the safety of surrender.

Weeks passed into months, and their play deepened. Tania learned the ways of the kajira, the language of deference, the rituals of service. But beneath the scripted gestures and practiced bows, something more authentic pulsed. Sylvie noticed it first: the pauses when Tania lingered, the way her typed words carried an edge of vulnerability that no roleplay could disguise.

“You wish for more,” Sylvie typed one night.

“Yes, Mistress,” came the reply, almost immediate. Then, after a long silence: “Not only in Gor. In life, too.”

That confession settled in Sylvie’s chest like a seed, fragile yet insistent. Could something born in a virtual world survive the harsh light of reality? She hesitated, but when Tania suggested they meet, Sylvie agreed. They lived only an hour apart.

The first meeting was quiet. A café near the river, late afternoon light slanting across polished wood tables. Sylvie arrived nervous, her real blonde hair tucked into a braid. When Tania appeared, smaller than she had imagined, eyes wide and uncertain, Sylvie felt a strange shift. The dynamic she had held so easily online was suddenly tangible. Real.

They spoke for hours. About their lives, their disappointments, the strange path that had led them both into Gor. But eventually the conversation circled back to the unspoken.

“I want to serve you,” Tania whispered, hands clasped tightly in her lap. “Not only there. Here. As myself.”

Sylvie’s breath caught. It was not a game, not a passing fancy. Tania’s voice trembled with conviction. She was offering something raw and unguarded: unconditional submission.

That night, Sylvie thought long and hard. Power was intoxicating, but it was also weighty. To collar someone in Gor was symbolic. To collar someone in life was a promise. A responsibility.

When they met again, Sylvie carried a simple leather collar she had purchased from a craft shop. She explained what it meant to her—not ownership, but devotion; not just command, but guardianship. Tania knelt before her without hesitation.

“Do you submit to me, fully and without condition?” Sylvie asked, her voice steady though her heart raced.

“Yes, Mistress,” Tania replied, her gaze lifted, clear and unwavering.

Sylvie fastened the collar around her neck. The small click of the buckle seemed to echo louder than any sound in the room. In that moment, the world of pixels and avatars fell away. What remained was two women, bound by choice, by philosophy, by trust.

Life after that was different. Tania served in quiet, everyday ways, preparing food, arranging Sylvie’s space, learning the rituals of Gor not as fantasy but as a daily rhythm. Sylvie, in turn, discovered that being a Mistress was not about dominance alone, but about care, guidance, and the gravity of being trusted without limits.

For both of them, the collar was more than leather. It was a bridge between worlds.

Mariko Marchant

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