Results Details

Kamchak had circled around and we found ourselves back at the slave wagon. - (Nomads of Gor, Chapter 11, Sentence #183)

It seemed strange to think of her, so wild and insolent, arrogant on the back of her kaiila, now a perfumed, silken slave of Turians. "She could use a bit of whip and steel, that wench," Kamchak muttered between swallows of paga, pretty much draining the bottle. It was too bad, I thought, but at least I supposed there would be one fellow among the wagons, the young man Harold, he whom the girl had so abused, he who had not yet won the Courage Scar, who would be just as pleased as not that she, with all her contempt and spleen, was now delightfully salted away in bangles and bells behind the high, thick walls of a Turian's pleasure garden. Kamchak had circled around and we found ourselves back at the slave wagon. We decided to wager to see who would get the second bottle of paga. "What about the flight of birds?" asked Kamchak. "Agreed," I said, "but I have first choice". - (Nomads of Gor)