Sometimes people get hung here –but not like you would think.
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Table of Contents:
- Hangings Here: Description and Explanation
- Downtown Overall
- Sky-bridge Concepts
- Shapeshifting-skyscraper Concepts
- Hanging-Mansions Balcony Concepts
- Kajira to Be Whipped
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Hangings Here: Description and Explanation
Inisfree is the capital of Heaven on, and reunited with, Earth. That means it is paradise; everyone there is fully compatible with each other, and no one gets hurt. No one even can get hurt while there; they are rendered immortal and invincible, often even deified.
Part of what makes Inisfree so heavenly, though, and part of actual Heaven, is that it lets the worthy people there enjoy their wildest fantasies and instincts. One of those fantasies is for those who feel so inclined… to live as owned females, trained as perfect pleasure slaves. Another of those fantasies is for some of those female slaves to sometimes be hung –but not how you might think.
We only counter-harm and end the gross beings; the false people; those who choose to be incompatible with, and offensive to, us and our loved ones. This means that even when we “hang” some of our own, it is in a way which does not harm them, and certainly does not kill them. How can this be?
To hang something can refer to hanging a picture, or hanging a light fixture. You can hang an ornament on a Christmas tree. We hang some of our kajirae in a similar fashion; we do so in a way that merely displays them, showing off their extreme beauty and total submissiveness.
Picture yourself standing up here; somewhere on one of the banister-railing-ed skyscraper-connecting mega-bridges that is as big as a horizontal skyscraper itself, full of walkways, landscaping, shops, and even homes. There are slowly-rotating “shapeshifting” skyscrapers standing tall all around you. You can see some in a group all have the same exterior coloring of their window panels, and many stories below, perhaps hundreds of feet down, there are the pristine white-and-gold highway-sections and streets, all of which have fountains, more beautiful landscaping, and trees with edible fruits growing on them, many of their leaves subtly bioluminescent at night.
Traffic is always well-dispersed, the city’s people and computers making traffic jams and rush-hour impossible. Along with the air-traffic of hover-shuttles, which look like sleek futuristic flying taxis of the luxurious caliber, it is all almost silent, leaving only the sounds of the wind through the leaves of the many landscaping trees for you to hear. There is also foot-traffic that is politely spread out, all the females either nude (which both free-women in our city, and our slave-girls, can be at any time; we are a nudist resort) or in very sexy and revealing business-attire, all the males looking ‘sharp’ in masculine business-attire, everyone either barefoot or in “dress-shoe sneaker hybrids”, and everyone in perfect shape, with sexy makeup-free faces for the females, and handsome bearded faces for the males.
If you are paying attention, you might notice, here and there, one of them walking up to meet and chat with one of the Inisfreean girls, exchanging a loving embrace and open-mouthed kiss, then casually keeping their hands resting on one another’s genitals and tits while they converse and decide on further arrangements. The hair and eye-irises’ colors of the Inisfreean girls will keep steadily, slowly, subtly changing, their eye colors sometimes brightening in little flashes of arousal, excitement, or eagerness. Their voices and language are ‘bubbly’, musical, and inviting, always perfectly sexy, and hinting of their inclusiveness of all the attractive parts of many languages around the world.
If you are paying even closer attention, you might notice some of these interactions result in the Inisfreean girl handing the human or humanoid acquaintance a vial or two of what looks like milk or a white sports-drink. These are the only equivalent of ‘drug deals’ we allow in our city, and the vials contain semen, an incredible variety of it produced in our city, some synthesized, some real, and every consistency and flavor imaginable always available for all interested female consumers. The females in our city often like to sample one on the spot, right out in public, and then decide on additional purchases of the same, the Inisfreean ‘dealers’ often sharing that first vial with them, often by ‘swapping’, a.k.a. ‘cum kissing’.
Today, one of the females who volunteered to become a slave-girl for someone in our city… is standing proud in her iron slave-collar, wearing nothing else at all, with her long porno-styled hair flowing in the crisp, clean, downtown breeze, her heart beating strongly, her whole body feeling alive and almost high; she is ready for what comes next, her whole being electrified with the rich goodness of it. We are going to ‘hang’ her today. She is standing beside her owner, whom we call her Master, always capitalized in print, awaiting his instructions for when and how to proceed to the edge of the top of this sky-bridge we are on.
Friendly waving over one of the Inisfreean ‘dealers’ to them, the Master asks the Inisfreean girl, who is also nude, except for her purse of semen vials, to pour out the contents of one of those vials into her own hands, at which point his slave-girl will lick, slurp, drink, and snort from her hands, consuming all the poured semen as her treat and pre-reward for what he knows will be another sexy job well done. The Inisfreean girl beams her winning smile to the man and obeys, producing and emptying the tasty contents of one of the vials from her purse, at which point the slave-girl steps forward and bends down to begin the sexy ‘cum-slut’ fun with her. They both immensely enjoy this, both on their own, and because it is pleasing to one of the men in their city.
Then, taking firm hold of a fistful of his slave-girl’s hair at the back of her head and neck, he walks her right up to the ledge. Another Inisfreean girl gets the bungee-jumper’s harness on her, carefully tightening its straps around her bare chest and upper thighs just right, and nods to the girl’s owner that it is all ready, inspected. Now it is the moment of truth, and that slave-girl adoringly bleats out, just in case these are her final moments, “I love you, Master!” then corrects herself; “This girl loves her Master! La kajira!” which, in the Gorean language, means, “I am your slave-girl!” and which is a greater confession and profession of total loyalty than even a military service oath, as she is repeat-surrendering her entire body, sexuality, and soul to him –forever –or at least so long as he chooses to own her.
Giving her a confident push, he sends her tilting and falling back over the edge, she then dropping rapidly out of sight past our field of view from atop this sky-bridge. Her eyes had gone wide, but she held them straight onto her Master, needing and choosing to look upon his handsomeness and dominance over her with every last micro-second she had him in her sight. Her scared scream would come and be heard a moment later, the feeling of freefall taking hold of her nervous system.
The bungee-tether raced after her, uncoiling before it stretched, then pulled taut, and finally began the girl’s series of yanks back up into the air beneath the sky-bridge. It would be several more seconds before those ‘air-bounces’ of hers reduced until she was only suspended and dangling down there, perhaps a quarter-mile above the busy streets so distant and tiny below her bare feet and trembling body. They gave her a moment to start adjusting to that thrilling sensation, and to look around, which are ways of keeping an owned girl feeling as alive, excited, and satisfied as she can be.
Two ‘hover-saddles’ called “Owls” were then autopiloted to fly themselves over to the man and the Inisfreean helping him ‘hang’ that girl he owned. He straddled one, and she straddled the other. Together, they flew over the edge and down, silent even when they took up hovering positions several meters out behind the hanging girl. Now they were at the perfect distance to begin whipping her.
Again, people cannot be hurt in Inisfree, unless they are evil beings captured for sport in our underground gladiator games. With treasured and beloved slave-girls, even whippings cannot cut them, and only leave temporary red marks on their flesh. All females who choose to be slave-girls in our realm here love this attention, as it is a form of sadomasochism and BDSM which they have been bred over untold generations to swear by and benefit from, even beg and squirm for.
Producing a coiled whip from the side of his slaver’s belt where it had been fastened, he let its loops fall away from his hand, leaving only the handle in his grip, and then he cracked it loudly once in the air between him and the hanging girl. The ghost of a smirk was on the corner of his lips, and the Inisfreean girl straddling the Owl at his side grinned hornily. The girl, if you saw her face from the other side, with those two hovering on their Owls in the distance behind her, went wide-eyed and her chest began to heave with breaths exposing her even mix of dread and wetness; she knew this would be a semi-pleasurable ‘fun whipping’, not the harsher punishment-whippings unruly girls receive during their training and corrections.
Spectators had gathered on one of the outdoor wraparound balconies of one of the spherical mansions attached from the underside of that sky-bridge. Those dwellings were called Hanging Mansions or Ball Homes. They were another signature architectural feat of the Inisfreeans, and now housed many of the compatible worthy elites who had made the journey to this secret and sacred polar city of theirs, all of them now interested in getting to see, firsthand, such wonders as these mutually-pleasurable whippings and hangings, something that had never existed outside this new land of theirs before.
Whipped several times in a row, that familiar sting ‘kissing’ her back and the backs of her legs, the slave-girl never knew exactly where it was going to ‘fall’, and yelped and moaned every time, her blushing cheeks becoming wet with falling tears. Her Master was accurate with it, though, even in the downtown breeze so high up there in the local sky, landing every strike where he intended. Together, they made the perfect couple; he who knows what he wants, and is experienced in taking it, and she who wants to provide what he wants, experienced in giving it.
Once this rite, ceremony, and loved pastime was complete, she was brought to straddle his Owl right in front of him, leaning her bare and whipped back against her Master’s chest. Wincing but craving and needing him, she tried to relax into his embrace, thankful to no longer be hanging out there where she couldn’t see him, only able to look upon the rotating skyscraper floors and trafficked streets below. The Inisfreean girl detached the bungee-cord from her harness, and together they flew back up to the safer walkway atop the sky-bridge.
The whipped girl would now be paraded around by her Master’s leash attached to her collar. Inisfreean girls and others would see her reddened back and walk up to ask her Master’s permission to congratulate her for her public bravery and sexiness. She would also be given a hearty, healthy, homecooked meal of her choosing, then watered (given clean water to drink), and offered TLC as part of her aftercare, further bonding her, heart and soul, to the man she already loved and worshipped forever; her Master.
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Downtown Overall:
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Sky-bridge Concepts:
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Shapeshifting-skyscraper Concepts:
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Hanging-Mansions Balcony Concepts:
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Kajira to Be Whipped:
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