This is my narrative and relevant references from the Books where slaves begging entrance are mentioned.
I make no pronouncements on these matters, but report them as I find them.
Arrive at your own conclusions.
I wish you well,
The idea of a slave begging entrance has been around, at least, since 1998, back in the days of Yahoo Gor chat.
I searched the series of books using words (or variations of) which might describe this. I found these statistics:
Entry = 93
Enter = 2,763
Entrance = 308
Doorway = 30
Threshold = 185
Nowhere, in those 3,379 occurrences is anything close described.
In fact, the two words "beg entry" or "beg entrance" do not even appear together anywhere within the series.
To directly address the example given of Elizabeth stating that there are over 100 ways to enter a room, first, here is the quote:
Sure, begging entrance might be even one of the 105 ways to enter a room. But if all slaves are required to beg entrance, then wouldn't it be shown to happen at least once?
If anything, a slave is required to ask permission to leave. Not when she arrives.
No, requiring a slave to beg entrance is just an onlineism and nothing more.
The door to the hut swung open.
Suddenly terrified I faced the opening.
I felt the point of Verna's spear in my back.
"Enter, Slave Girl," said Verna.
"Yes, Mistress," I whispered.
I felt the point of Verna's spear again against my back. It pressed forward. I stumbled into the room, crying out with anguish.
"Go to the tent of Rask of Treve," she said.
"Enter," said Rask of Treve.
I was alone, defenseless in his war camp, his slave.
I entered the tent.
"Tie shut the tent flaps," said he.
I turned and tied shut the flaps, with five cords, fastening myself in the tent with him.
Hassan then, carrying his saddle and other belongings, went into the inn. His men, and I, followed him. Last to enter the inn, head down, was Alyena.
"Here," said Sucha, "is the entrance to the kennels of the female slaves."
I shrank back. The door was small, and thick, and iron, some eighteen inches by eighteen inches square.
"Enter," said Sucha.
She stood behind me with the whip.
I turned the handle on the tiny door and, falling to my belly, squirmed through.
Sucha followed me.
I do not think Sasi was too pleased when I carried the blond slave over the threshold and placed her on the straw by the slave ring. Gorean slaves, incidentally, are commonly carried over the threshold when they first enter a master's house or place of residence. This is reminiscent of a bridal custom on Earth, of course. That custom, an ancient one, makes tacitly clear the bride's ownership by the male, and has clear implications of capture and bondage. It is natural that the bride desires this ceremony, and will plead for it. The oafish male, commonly, does not even understand what is going on. He should, of course, take her directly to the bed, and throw her upon it, his.
Women wish to be the slaves of their men. What woman would want a man who is not strong enough to be her master?
Not all Gorean slaves, of course, are carried over a threshold. Some are leashed and enter on their hands and knees. Some, perhaps bound and collared, are thrust through. The common denominator of these customs, of course, is that the slave must understand that force, either explicitly or implicitly, is involved, and that she will enter the stronghold of the master, and as a slave, whether she wills to do so or not.
"You did not carry me across the threshold," said Sasi.
"You were bound in a blanket, and on my shoulder," I said, "when I entered this room."
"I mean before," she said.
"No," I said, "I did not. I did, however, if you will remember, when first I used you, order you to my blankets."
"I have never forgotten," she said. She shuddered with pleasure, remembering the moment. "I was simply ordered to your blankets," she said.
A similar sort of thing is done sometimes when a master brings home a new girl to a house which is completely empty, if necessary, by prearrangement, and new to her, and orders her to enter alone. "Warm wine," he tells her. "Light the lamp of love. Spread furs. Crawl naked into them, and await me."
"Yes, Master," she says.
She then enters the house, obeying. Not a shackle or a cord is on her body. But few women could be more slave than she, entering fearfully the strange, empty house, and preparing herself for her master's pleasure.
There was a tiny knock on the door leading to the central room of the tavern.
"Enter," said Tasdron.
Peggy, a tray balanced in one hand, opened the door.
"Masters," she said, lowering her head.
"Serve," said Tasdron to her.
"Yes, Master," said Peggy.
"He did not even give me back my clothes," she said.
"These are holiday times," I said. "Surely you have seen more than one white female slave naked in the camp."
"He even left me bound," she said, lifting her secured wrists.
"That is perhaps a bit of extra discipline," I said.
"I am ashamed," she said. "I want to hide. Please let me go into your lodge."
I considered this.
"Beaten slave," said a white female, in a scandalously short shirtdress, and collar, a brunet slave of the Wismahi, sneeringly, to Winyela.
"You may enter the lodge," I said to Winyela.
Canka reached down and picked up the kaiila quirt. Then he indicated, with the quirt, that the girl should enter the interior of the lodge. She crawled to the lodge, head down.
"There is a fire in here," said Pumpkin, from outside of the threshold. "Let me go in first."
Hci, Cuwignaka and I sat behind a fire, in the center of the large, half-sunken, earthen-and-wood lodge of the Waniyanpi. We faced the threshold.
"There may be danger," I heard Radish say, from outside the threshold.
"Do you wish to enter first?" asked Pumpkin.
"No," she said. "No. You enter first."
"I shall," said Pumpkin.
He went to the door and opened it.
A slave was there. She was naked, her hands were behind her back. About her neck, tied, was a key, doubtless to her bracelets, and a whip. There were two guards at the portal, but they were those who had been guarding it. The girl had apparently come alone through the halls to the portal, obediently, as I had. Ligurious indicated that she should enter. She did, and he closed, and locked, the door behind her.
After a time the other girls began to enter the room, one or two at a time. I took little notice of them.
Her training, in this last period, that in which she had come to understand that she was most perfectly and naturally a female slave, had been quite different, on the whole, from her former lessons, save of course, for the continuing instruction in the language. She had been taught how to kneel, and move, and lie down, and remove her clothing, and present herself for binding, and enter and leave rooms, and greet masters, many such things.
"Rise up," had said the kitchen master, "and report to Ho-Tosk."
"Yes, Master," I had said.
I had lost no time in leaving the kitchen, climbing the stairs, and making my way to the office of the taverner, the tavern master, my master, Ho-Tosk, whose office is on the second basement level of the tavern, one level above the kitchen level, one level below the level of the main floor. Food is conveyed from the kitchen to the main floor by means of a dumb-waiter arrangement, platforms in a shaft, raised and lowered on pulleys. The two leaves of the office door were back, and so I could see into the office. Ho-Tosk, burly and bearded, was sitting behind a small work table, on which were papers. He looked up, and I knelt outside the door, my head down, my knees together.
"Enter," he said.
I rose, advanced a few feet, and knelt again.
He returned to his work.
I had not been addressed, so I remained silent.
"Kneel here," said the man, indicating a position before the heavy door, of iron, in the dark corridor, "When we have left," he said, "make your presence known."
"Yes, Master," I said, miserably.
He then turned and left, followed by the two guards. They did not look back.
Then I was frightened, for I had not yet knocked at the iron door.
I knocked lightly, frightened, at the door. I had knocked timidly. I had scarcely heard the knock myself. I put my head down, trembling.
"Come in," she said. "Remove your tunic and kneel by the couch. Close the door behind you."
Were it not for the security of their Home Stones, one supposes there would be few free women in a Gorean city. One wonders sometimes if they understand that the freedom which, in their arrogance, they take so much for granted is tenuous and fragile, a revocable gift of men. Let them think of Tharna, and tremble, or, if they wish, present themselves naked before her gates, petitioning entrance.
Whereas most slaves have a great deal of freedom, as hitherto mentioned, most will be expected to ask permission to leave the domicile of the master, and will be expected to return by a designated Ahn.
The movements of free women on Gor tend to be restricted, and monitored. One is always aware when they are about. They are precious. One pays attention to them. Slaves, on the other hand, are generally free to come and go, as they please, not much noticed. They may have to request their master's permission to leave their domicile, and they may have to return at a stipulated time, subject to discipline, and, indeed, has one not seen them hurrying frantically through the streets hoping to cross their master's threshold before the ringing of the fifteenth bar, but one is used to them, and pays them little attention when they are about in the streets, the alleys, the markets, the plazas, and parks, save, of course, to speculate on their lineaments and wonder how they might look at one's slave ring.