The Bond-maid Circle
There is but one way I have seen free women enslaved up north, in Torvaldsland, and that is
the bond-maid circle. A woman can either be dragged to it, enticed to it, or walk to its circle
herself. A bond-maid circle can be drawn anywhere, and as we see at times it can be as simple
as drawing one with the  heel of a boot on any floor or the ground.

"Go to the bond-maid circle," said Ivar Forkbeard, indicating the circle he had drawn in the dirt.

The women cried out in misery. To enter the circle, of one is a female, is, by the laws of
Torvaldsland, to declare oneself a bond-maid. A woman, of course, need not enter the circle of
her own free will. She may, for example, be thrown within it, naked and bound. Howsoever she
enters the circle, voluntarily or by force, free or secured, he emerges from it, by the laws of
Torvaldsland, as a bond-maid. Marauders of Gor, page 44-45

But the Forkbeard did not make her serve him then but, firmly, held her body, locked in his
arms, that of his prisoner, to his, warming her. After half of an Ahn I saw her, delicately, eyes
frightened, lift her head and put her lips to his shoulder; softly, timidly, she kissed him; and
then looked into his eyes. Suddenly she was flung on her back and his huge hand, roughened
from the hilt of the sword, the handle of the ax, was at her body. "Oh no!" she cried. "No!"

Bets were made at the table. I bet on Ivar Forkbeard. Within an Ahn, Hilda the Haughty, to the
jeers of men, the taunts of bond-maids, on her hands and knees, head down, hair falling
forward, crept to the circle of the bond-maid, which Ivar Forkbeard had drawn in the dirt of the
hall floor between the posts. The coals of the fire pit illuminated the left side of her body. She
crawled before the bond-maids the oarsmen. She entered the circle, and then, within the circle,
stood up. She stood very straight, and her head was up. "I am yours, Ivar Forkbeard," she said.
"I am yours!"

He gestured to her, and she fled from the circle, to join him, to throw herself at his side, to beg
his touch, his bond-maid. Marauders of Gor, page 134
Should she, lying on her back, look back and up she sees, on the wall, the shield, the helmet,
the spear and ax, the sword, in its sheath, of her master. They are visible symbols of the force
by which she is kept in bondage, by which she is kept only a girl, whose belly is beneath his
Marauders of Gor, page 141-142
The Kirtle
I could see mountains, snowcapped, A flock of verr, herded by a maid with a stick, turned, bleating on the sloping hillside. She
shaded her eyes. She was blond; she was barefoot; she wore an ankle-length white kirtle, of white wool, sleeveless, split to her
belly. About her neck I could see a dark ring." Marauders of Gor, page 81

The girls, though collared in the manner of Torvaldsland, and serving men, were fully clothed. Their kirtles of white wool,
smudged and stained with grease, fell to their ankles; they hurried about; they were barefoot; their arms, too, were bare;
hair was tied with strings behind their heads, to keep it free from sparks;
their faces were, on the whole, dirty, smudged
with dirt and grease; they were worked hard;

Northern Collars

What about northern collars? And what about being used? Well, it seems to happen often that jarls take more then one
bond-maid to his furs. Also, no where is it even mentioned that the collars are encrypted, which means, the collars define
them as slaves, slaves to Forkbeard's Steading.

A bond-maid thrust through the crowd. "Does my Jarl not remember Gunnhild?" She whimpered, and slipped to his side, holding
him, lifting her lips to kiss him on the throat, beneath the beard. About her neck, riveted, was a collar of black iron, with a welded
ring, to  which a chain might be attached. "What of Pouting lips?" said another girl, kneeling before him, lifting her eyes to
his.Sometimes bond-maids are given descriptive names. The girl had full, sensuous lips. She was blond; she also smelled of verr;
it had doubtless been she whom I had seen on the slope herding verr. "Pouting Lips has been in agony awaiting the return of
her Jarl," she whimpered. The Forkbeard shook her head with his great hand. "What of Olga?" whined another wench, sweet and  
strapping, black-haired; "Do not forget Pretty Ankles, my Jarl" said another wench, a delicious little thing, perhaps not more the
sixteen. She thrust her lips to the back of his left hand, biting at the hair there. Marauders of Gor, page 84.


When this was done, I accompanied the Forkbeard to a place behind, and to one side, of a forge shed. There was a great log
there, from a fallen tree. The bark had been removed from the log. It was something in the neighbourhood of a yard in
thickness. Against the log, kneeling, one behind the other, their right shoulders in contact with it, knelt the new bond-maids,
and Aelgifu. Some men stood about, as well, and the brawny fellow, the smith. Nearby, on a large, flat stone, to keep it from
sinking into the ground, was the anvil. A few feet away, glowing with heat, stood two canister braziers. In these, among the
white coals, were irons. Air, by means of a small bellows, pumped by a thrall bow, in white wool, collared, hair-cropped, was
forced through a tube in the bottom of each. The air above the canisters shook with heat.

To one side, tall, broad-shouldered, stood a young male thrall, in the thrall tunic of a white wool, his hair cropped short, an iron
collar on his throat.

"She first," said the Forkbeard, indicating the slender, blond girl.

She moaning, was seized by a fellow and thrown on her belly over the peeled log. Two men held her upper arms; two others her
upper legs. A fifth man, with a heavy leather glove, drew forth one of the irons from the fire; the air about its tip shuddered with

"Please, my Jarl," she cried, "do not mark your girl!"

At a sign from the Forkbeard, the iron was pressed deeply into her flesh, and held there, smoking for five Ihn. It was only when
it was pulled away she screamed. Her eyes had been shut, her teeth gritted. She had tried not to scream. She had dared to put
her will against the iron. But, when the iron had been pulled back, from deep within her flesh, smoking, she, her pride gone, her
will shattered, had screamed with pain, long and miserably, revealing herself as only another branded girl. She, by the arm, was
dragged from the log. She threw back her head, tears streaming down her face, and again screamed in pain. She looked down at
her body. She was marked for identification. A hand on her arm, she was thrust, sobbing, to the anvil, beside which she was
thrust to her knees.

The brand used by Forkbeard is not uncommon in the north, though there is less uniformity in Torvaldsland on these matters
than in the south, where the merchant caste, with its recommendations for standardization, is more powerful. All over Gor, of
course, the slave girl is a familiar commodity. The brand used by the Forkbeard, found rather frequently in the north, consisted
of a half circle, with, at its right tip, adjoining it, a steep, diagonal line. The half circle is about an inch and a quarter in width, and
the diagonal line about an inch and a quarter in height. The brand is, like many, symbolic. In the north, the bond-maid is
sometimes referred to as a woman whose belly lies beneath the sword.
"Look up at me," said the smith.

The slender, blond girl, tears in her eyes, looked up at him.

He opened the hinged collar of black iron, about a half inch in height. He put it about her throat. It also contained a welded ring,
suitable for the attachment of a chain.

"Put your head beside the anvil," he said.

He took her hair and threw it forward, and thrust her neck against the left side of the anvil. Over the anvil lay the joining ends of
the two pieces of the collar. The inside of the collar was separated by a quarter of an inch from her neck. I saw the fine hairs on
the back of her neck. On one part of the collar are two, small, flat, thick rings. On the other is a single such ring. These rings,
when the wings of the collar are joined, are aligned, those on one wing on top and bottom, that on the other in the center. They
fit closely together, one on top of the other. The holes in each, about three-eighths of an inch in diameter, too, of course, are
perfectly aligned.
The smith, with his thumb, forcibly, pushed a metal rivet through the three holes. The rivet fit snugly.
"Do not move your head, Bond-maid," said the smith.
Then, with great blows of the iron hammer, he riveted the iron collar about her throat.

A man then pulled her by the hair from the anvil and threw her to one side. She lay there, weeping, a naked bond-maid, marked
and collared. Marauders of Gor, page 86-87

Bond-maids eat...

What does bond-maid eat? Slave gruel, or what we call warm or cold sa-tarna porridge, enriched with salted parsit fish. I have
to point out, that slavegirls or bond-maids are not allowed to go hungry or starve themselves as we see so often online, we
have to realize and understand that slaves are fed punctually and are not permitted to not eat because they are "upset",
"lonely" or what not, so this going hungry just isn't very plausible at all.

She did not deign to speak to him, but looked away. Like the bond-maids, she had been fed only on cold Sa-Tarna porridge and
scraps of dried parsit fish. Marauders of Gor, page 56

Another of the bond-maids was then freed to mix the bond-maid gruel, mixing fresh water with Sa-Tarna meal and then stirring
in the raw fish. Marauders of Gor, page 63, 64

The girl who had prepared the bond-maid gruel, had now been refettered and placed again in the coffle. The slender blond girl,
who had been giving the men water from the skin bag, was now given the work of filling small bowls from the large wooden bowl,
for the bond-maids. She used a bronze ladle, the handle of which was curved like the neck and head of a lovely bird. About the
handle was a closed bronze ring, loose. It formed a collar for the bird's neck. The bond-maids did not much care for their gruel,
unsweetened, mudlike Sa-Tarna meal, with raw fish. They fed, however. One girl who did not care to feed was struck twice
across her back by a knotted rope in the hand of Gorm. Quickly then, and well, she fed. The girls, including the slender blondish
girl, emptied their bowls, even to licking them, and rubbing them with their saliva-dampen-ed fingers, that no grain be left, lest
Gorm, their keeper in the ship, should not be pleased. They looked to one another in  fear, and put down their bowls, as they
finished, fed bond-wenches.Marauders of Gor, page 65

Something else to note, here we see that a bond-maid stole a piece of cheese from another, so we can see that bond-maids
ate slave gruel as a staple, but that they also ate different types of food, if the men of Torvaldsland already knew to bring
tospits on their travels not to get sick, that they knew to feed their bond-maids more then just gruel.

Dagmar had, two months ago, stolen a piece of cheese from Pretty Ankles; she had been beaten for that, at the post; fastened
there by Ottar and switched by Pretty Ankles, until Pretty Ankles had tired of switching her, too; she had not been found
sufficiently pleasing by several of the Forkbeard's oarsmen; she was, accordingly, to be sold off, as an inferior girl. Marauders of
Gor, page 158

Bond-maid Slave Wine...

Northern bond-maids do take the slave-wine much like their imbonded sister of the south. It also seems to be as bitter.

Gorm then stood beside Ivar Forkbeard. He carried, on a strap over his shoulder, a tall dark vessel, filled with liquid.
The men on the shore laughed.
Attached to the vessel, by a light chain, was a golden cup. It had two handles. From a soup on the vessel, grinning, Gorm filled
the golden cup. The liquid swirling in the cup was black.
"Drink," said the Forkbeard, thrusting the cup into the hands of the slender, blond girl, she who had, so long ago, in the temple
of Kassau, worn the snood of scarlet yarn, with twisted golden wire, the red vest and skirt, the white blouse.
She held the cup. It was decorated; about its sides, cunningly wrought, was a design, bond-maids, chained. A chain design also
decorated the rim, and, at five places on the cup, was the image of a slave whip, five-strapped.
She looked at the black liquid.
"Drink," said the Forkbeard.
She lifted it to her lips, and tasted it. She closed her eyes, and twisted her face.
"It is too bitter," she wept.
She felt the knife of the Forkbeard on her belly. "Drink," said he.
She threw back her head and drank down the foul brew. She began to cough and weep. The coffle rope was untied from her
throat. "Send her to the branding log," said the Forkbeard. He thrust the girl down the gangplank, into the arms of the waiting
men, who hurried her from the dock.
One by one, the prizes of Ivar Forkbeard, even the rich, proud Aelgifu, were forced to down the salve wine. Then they were, one
by one, freed from the coffle, and hurried to the branding log. Marauders of Gor, page 83-84

Bond-maids sleep....

In this quote, it is understood where bond-maids sleep, fettered to a slave long along the sleeping berths of the Jarls.

I looked to the Forkbeard. He had one arm about the full, naked waist of the daughter of the administrator of Kassau, Pudding,
and the other about the waist of the marvellously breasted, collared Gunnhild. "Taste your Pudding, my Jarl," begged Pudding.
He kissed her. "Gunnhild! Gunnhild!" protested Gunnhild. Her hand was inside his furred shirt. He turned and thrust his mouth
upon hers. "Let Pudding please you," wept Pudding. "Let Gunnhild please you!" cried Gunnhild. "I will please you better," said
Pudding. |I will please you better!" cried Gunnhild. Ivar Forkbeard stood up; both bond-maids looked up at him, touching him;
"Run to the furs," said Ivar Forkbeard, "both of you."

Both girls quickly fled to his furs.

He stepped over the bench, and followed them. At the foot of the ground level, which is the sleeping level, which lies about a
foot above the dug-out floor, against the raised dirt, here and there, were rounded logs, laid lengthwise. Each log is ten to
fifteen feet long, and commonly about eight inches to a foot thick. If one thinks of the sleeping level, on each side, as
constituting, in effect, a couch, almost the length of the hall, except for the cooking area, the logs lie at the foot of these two
couches, and parallel to their foot. About each log, fitting snugly into deep, wide, circular grooves in the wood, were several iron
bands. These each contained a welded ring, to which was attached a length of chain, terminating in a black-iron fetter.

Gunnhild thrust out her left ankle; Forkbeard fettered her, a moment later Pudding, too had thru forth her ankle, and her ankle,
too, was locked in a fetter of the north. The Forkbeard threw off his jacket. There was a rustle of chain as the two bond-maids
turned, Pudding on her left side, Gunnhild on her right, waiting for the Forkbeard to lie between them. Marauders of Gor, page 97

There is a time for slave, for bond-maids, and then there is a time for work, I  really do appreciate that.

Bond-maids do not get in the way of Jarls...

"Protect  me!" I heard. A female threw herself to my feet, putting her head to my ankle. "Protect me!" she wept. I looked down.
She lifted her face, terrified, tear-stained. She had dark hair, dark eyes. I saw the iron collar, dark, on her white throat. It was
Leah, the Canadian girl. With  my foot I thrust her, weeping, to one side. There was men's work to do. Marauders of Gor, page

Bond-maids fear sleen also...

Yes, bond-maids, slave, kajirae's all fear sleen, the only thing a kajira fears more is the wrath of their owners.

Then the sleen opened a passage for her, indicating to her which direction she was to go. Where else she turned she was met
with the fangs and hisses of the accompanying animals. When she tried to move in any direction other than that of the opened
passage they snapped at her, viciously. A single snap could tear off a hand or foot. Then two of the sleen fell in behind her and,
snarling and snapping at her heels, drove her before them. We saw her fleeing before them, trying to escape the swift, terrible
jaws. We feared, more than once, that they would kill her. A female who cannot be herded is destroyed by the herding sleen.
Marauders of Gor, page 244

Bond-maids getting sold

There were some one hundred bond-maids for sale in the shed. They all wore collars of the north, with the projecting iron ring.
They were fastened by a single chain, but it was not itself run through the projecting loop on their collars; rather, a heavy
padlock, passing through a link of the chain and the projecting loop, secured them; in this way the chain, when a girl is taken
from the chain, or added to it, need not be drawn through any of the loops; the girls may thus, with convenience, be spaced on
the chain, removed from it, and added to it.

The Forkbeard was given the tarn disk, which he placed in his wallet. It had been taken from a sack slung about the right wall.
There, from one of several small wooden boxes projecting an intervals from the wall, he took an opened padlock. He then walked
across the shed, still holding Dagmar by the arm, and threw her to her knees. He then lifted the chain and, by means of the
padlock, passing it through the loop on her collar and a link in the chain, secured her. Marauders of Gor, page 158

Bond-maids not permitted in sacred areas and more...

Bond-maids are like slaves all over Gor, treated like animals and not permitted everywhere as per other areas of Gor.

In the crowd, too, much in evidence, were brazen bond-maids; they had been brought to the thing, generally, by captains and
Jarls; it is not unusual for men to bring such slaves with them, though they are not permitted near the law courts or the
assemblies of deliberation; the voyages to the thing were not, after all, ventures of raiding; they were not enterprises of warfare;
there were three reasons for bringing such girls; they were for the pleasure of men; they served, as display objects, to indicate
the wealth of their masters; and they could be bought and sold.

The Forkbeard had bought with him, too, some bond-maids. They followed us. Their eyes were bright; their steps were eager;
they had been long isolated on the farm; rural slave girls, the Forkbeard's wenches, they were fantastically stimulated to see the
crowds; they looked upon the thing-fields with pleasure and excitement; even had they been permitted, some of them, to look
upon certain of the contests. It is said that such pleasures improve a female slave. Sometimes, in the south, female slaves are
dressed in the robes of free women, even veiled, and taken by their masters to see the tarn races, or games, or songs-dramas;
many assume that she, sitting regally by his side, is a companion, or being courted for the companionship; only he and she
know that their true relation is that of master and slave girl; but when they return home, and the door to his compartment
closes, their charade done, she immediately strips to brand and collar, and kneels, head to his feet, once again only an article of
his property; how scandalized would have been the free woman, had they known that, next to them perhaps, had been sitting a
girl who was only slave; but there were no disguises in Torvaldsland; there was no mistaking that the girls that followed the
Forkbeard, or "Thorgeir of Ax Glacier," were bond; to better display his pets, and excite the envy of others, the Forkbeard had
had his girls drop their kirtles low upon their hips, and hitch them high, that their beauty might be well exhibited, from their
collars to some inches below their navels, and, too, that the turns of their calves and ankles might be similarly displayed; I would
have thought that they might have groaned with humiliation and attempted to hide themselves among us, but, instead, even
Pudding and Thyri, they walked as proud, shameless bond-maid; the exposure of the females navel, on Gor, is known as the
"slave belly"; only female slaves expose their navels; from a vendor, the Forkbeard bought his girls honey cake; with their fingers
they ate it eagerly, crumbs at the side of their mouths. Marauders of Gor, page 144
This research is done on the series of books written by John Norman, the comments in italics are mine and my point of view.
Woman of Gor
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