Underground Prison – Austin Bunton Designs

This facility now regularly houses kajirae for non-punitive purposes, and is known as the Kajirae Training Facility or Girl Kennels.

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Table of Contents:

Purposing and Utilization
Cell Doors
The Great Masquerade
Blocks Directory
Capacity
Vacancy
Levels Spacing
Cell Block Assignments
Further Details; Daily Life, Incarcerated (parent category for many of the following)
Philosophy
Transportation
Drinks & Meals
Recess
Study Hall
Solitary Confinement
Sleep
Hygiene
Uniforms
Reveille
Cleaning
Property
Inspections
Using the Bathroom
Schedule
Closing Remarks
2021 Update: History
Location (Images Begin)
Girls in Kennels
2022 Update: Scale-model in Minecraft
2024/+

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Purposing and Utilization:

The subterranean prison is seldom used for prisoners; Inisfreeans almost never take prisoners, nor do they ever need to bargain with or via such. Instead, Inisfreeans take slaves which they keep and train to become concubines; ‘advanced fluffers’, as it were. Those who are not useful as such (as kajiras, a.k.a. kajirae; female sex-slaves) may be absorbed for fuel, and always by choice (the will of the Inisfreeans), as Inisfreeans don’t need fuel, either; absorbing anything for conversion into fuel of one sort or another is a matter of entertainment and shock-&-awe.

Rarely, Inisfreeans can and do hold noble-borns in this prison facility for ransom –or to pressure Outlanders to release or better treat other Outlanders who have come into the favor of the Inisfreeans. Kidnapped noble-borns are also exchanged for their most valuable leaders, minds (scientists), or children, et cetera; Inisfreeans are a major part of the intergalactic and inter-dimensional slave-trades, heavily involved in human-trafficking (and humanoid trafficking, to include countless alien species, races, and experiments), although, of course, it is of note that almost all of those being trafficked by the Inisfreeans want to be slaves and bargaining chips; it is a matter of extremely great and rarest pride of accomplishment and belonging amongst them, for Inisfreeans are the pickiest, most selective of all the beings in Creation.

However, Inisfreeans do keep Outlanders here in this prison who haven’t had time to learn the ways of Inisfree. Very special Outlanders may request political asylum as expatriots and refugees here. In the interests of mutual preservation (such that the Inisfreeans do not get grossed out, and their Outlander guests do not get overwhelmed by how different and amazingly loving and open all Inisfreeans are), those who have not had many years of rigorous study to understand and adapt to the many signatures of Inisfreean daily life… remain imprisoned, though not as criminal offenders; this is biological and psychological compartmentalization.

Offending slaves are just flash-cloned; their originals de-atomized for fuel, never being imprisoned. Those slaves who have graduated A.D.O. to become Fleet Concubines (the assistants of Inisfreean Master Females on deployment in the Outer Space of the Outlands), and who have then been offensive to an Inisfreean, may also just be jettisoned out airlocks into Space.

Guests and residents who violate Inisfreean law are usually just banished beyond the Perimeter Wall, either to fend for themselves in whatever realm lies beyond Inisfree’s Perimeter Orb just past its Sentry Towers, or with a one-way flight or teleportation portal ‘ticket’ back from whence they originally came.

As for those born in Inisfree, they never get detained, for they are incapable of offense; all extensions of the Governor‘s essence and will, they are hard-wired down to every particle in their bodies to desire and function only in all the ways which are pleasing to him. Another way to explain it is that every Inisfreean citizen is an engineered, perfected variant of an Outlander base-model, instantly sung (harmonically flash-cloned) into existence in batches (like identical twins, but in groups of 50 instead of 2), and could no more break any Inisfreean law than the same person could decide to simultaneously move in opposite directions, suddenly turn inside out, or break the speed of light. Therefore, it is only fitting that only Inisfreean-born people make up the entire Inisfreean police force; those who operate from Inisfree’s police stations, driving around in the Repulsine-augmented Tumbler-style squad cars, from which all police investigations and arrests are made (*and when there is not enough room in a Tumbler for detainees or prisoners, teleportation, White Rhinos, MPHAs, or other Inisfreean transportation methods can easily be used).

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Cell Doors:

All ICs (Inisfreean Constructs, not just clones) are composed of Inisfree’s unique, special, one-molecule, SRC-‘cells’, which are a smaller version of the DNA double-helix, but functioning as the microscopic and unforgeable ID for all things Inisfreean. Everything built by and for Inisfree is completely composed of these ‘cells’, and this is what allows all doors and other hatches to be ‘smart’, selective, semi-permeable membranes, never having to open, close, unlock, lock, de-pressurize, or re-pressurize; these ‘cells’ instantly identify what is Inisfreean (and therefore what is incorruptible, impossible to contaminate or carry contagions, and permissible for free passage through all areas) and what is not, automatically requiring the will of an Inisfreean (and, thereby, the will of the Governor), usually paired with physical contact, such as holding hands, to authorize and make passage through any given hatch physically possible for the non-Inisfreean matter. This approach to security means that everything is in a constant state of identification, classification, monitoring, and channeling, and that all Prison Facility and Quarantine Facility doors can remain shut; Inisfreeans merely guide the non-Inisfreeans through the solid walls blocking what would be open walkways, let go of the non-Inisfreeans, and then they are stuck inside until another Inisfreean removes them via the same method. Breathable air is manufactured in Inisfree, making it Inisfreean, and passes through one-way vents (also semi-permeable ‘smart’-membranes) which cannot be traversed with devices such as C.I.A. robot bugs, for they are both too small and solid walls just like the doors. Also, breathable air can be created by each of the prison’s rooms, as well as by each of the Quarantine Facility’s rooms, for all of them are stand-alone units based on C.D.C. chamber designs for sealed-off, isolated, long-term, nearly indefinite work.

Even science on the level of magic cannot override these doors and other hatches, such as to make them passable or open; only the will of the Governor, as channeled through his authorized Inisfreeans, can execute such commands. Also, the Inisfreean ‘cells’ which make up all things Inisfreean cannot be forged or used as counterfeits, for they are far too small and complex, and because each one must be approved by the Grid Mind –also, as always, as per the Governor’s will. All of the ‘cell’s that make up the Inisfreean empire are accounted for, just as are all the hairs on each Inisfreean’s head; total accountability at all times, no matter what. Being a collective consciousness community of living supercomputers, this is a very easy task.

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The Great Masquerade:

Guards will often execute sequences of events that convince the prisoners they have a chance of escaping, then clandestinely monitor them all the way to the point of perceived-escape, at which point the prisoners’ memories will usually be modified or wiped to allow for equally convincing, successive scenarios and natural efforts.

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Blocks Directory:

Each ‘cell block’ in Inisfree’s prison is a 9×9 cluster of cylindrical prisms called ‘silos’, and this is their breakdown by level, block, tower, and wing:

Top level of the prison:
17×17 dots on the city map = 289 silo clusters (cell blocks), which = 2,601 silos (cell towers).
Each tower (silo) has 80 wings; Conex box annexes, which are arranged 8 per level, each silo having 10 levels.
Each wing (Conex box) measures 20’x8’x8′, and has 4 cells; 2 in front, 2 in back, with a narrow walkway (2′ wide) in the middle.
Thus, each wing has 4 cells, each tower (silo) has 320 cells, each block (cluster of 9 silos) has 2,880 cells, and this whole prison has 832,320 cells.
Each cell measures 10’x3’x8′, is a cage of bars (never far apart enough to squeeze between) and houses 4 girls; just enough room for them to sleep on the floor, collars bolted to metal loops fused with the wall, with some of their limbs touching or overlapping; 2.5’x3′ of floor-space per girl; 7.5sqft., or a 5’x1.5′ area if they stretch out.
(And that is plenty of room because the girls sleep with their heads between the feet of the adjacent girl.)
So this prison can hold 3,329,280 girls.

Bottom level of the prison:
Just as many clusters and silos; 289 & 2,601, but these are for the solitary confinement chambers, which are smaller than cells; just big enough for one girl, and shaped so that the girl must remain sitting up.
Thus, there are four times as many here as there are cells in the top level of this prison; 3,329,280 solitary confinement chambers; enough so that a fully populated prison here can be entirely in solitary confinement; everyone at the same time.

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Capacity:

If every cell and solitary confinement chamber in this prison is filled, its maximum possible population doubles to 6,658,560 girls, and that’s still leaving all of its silos empty; only housing girls in the wings (Conex boxes) attached to those silos.

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Vacancy:

The Governor has about 333,300 Outlander girls as his slaves, leaving 6,325,260 spaces (cells and solitary confinement chambers) open even during total incarceration of his slave population.

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Levels Spacing:

Lastly, there is one foot of space between the two levels of this prison, as it occupies a vertical area of 3 pixels on the city map, which = 198′, and each silo is 10 stories tall; 100′, resulting in 201′ of vertical space being used for this prison, resulting in the top level’s silos’ top floors’ ceilings being 1.5′ above the blue line on that map, and the bottom level’s silos’ bottom floors’ floors being 1.5′ below the blue line on that map.

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Cell Block Assignments:
(for both levels, which are kept paired; girls housed in Top Level Cell Block 1 spend their solitary confinement hours in Bottom Level Cell Block 1)

Cell Blocks 1-17: girls sentenced to one week in this facility
Cell Blocks 18-34: girls sentenced to two weeks
Cell Blocks 35-51: girls sentenced to 3 weeks
Cell Blocks 52-68: girls sentenced to 1 month (28 days; an Inisfreean month)
Cell Blocks 69-85: girls sentenced to 5 wks.
Cell Blocks 86-102: 6 wks.
Cell Blocks 103-119: 7 wks.
Cell Blocks 120-136: 2 mos.
Cell Blocks 137-153: 9 wks.
Cell Blocks 154-170: 10 wks.
Cell Blocks 171-187: 11 wks.
Cell Blocks 188-204: 1 season
Cell Blocks 205-221: 13 wks.
Cell Blocks 222-238: 14 wks.
Cell Blocks 239-255: 15 wks.
Cell Blocks 256-272: 4 mos.
Cell Blocks 273-289: girls sentenced to longer than 1/3 of a year

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Further Details; Daily Life, Incarcerated

Philosophy:

One of the many wise and timeless sayings of the planet Gor is that “It is, upon occasion, good for a girl to find herself naked and behind bars.” It feels good for her, as her gender is one that wants to be made to submit, and it feels good for her natural masters, as they enjoy dominating with ease, and prison cells afford them both (both genders) this. Thus, all females not born in Inisfree are given routine prison sentences ranging, based on how exceptional their pleasure slave performance is, from a week to as much as a season. Females sent to this prison are also routinely given corporal punishment; they are beaten, caned, choked, whipped, and otherwise humiliated, as no female feels fully appreciated and prized if she is not frequently and wholeheartedly punished back into total focus and understanding. To females, punishments equal attention, a plan for them, and, thereby, love. And so it is that these Inisfreean prison sentences remind girls, who feel more than think, as is the nature of their sex (and that is a good thing; not a bad thing), that they are owned completely, and that even prison sentences must be accepted with grace, if they are to be deemed attractive enough to be kept –and kept alive– and that an actual punishment would be far, far worse than routine prison, almost unimaginable to them, and something to be avoided, even for the females who like the spice of a little pain and degradation. In short, sexism is natural and healthy; not in the sense that one sex looks down on the other, but that the sexes are segregated based on the reality of their talents and shortcomings. To fail to incorporate this into one’s society is to sew the seeds of countless ailments all stemming from stress from not being naturally dominant males and naturally submissive females. Such is simply the way that humans feel good, heal, and grow strongest and smartest. All else is delusion. All wardens and other prison personnel in Inisfree are Master Females, and as this prison is part of the city’s military region, this prison is also referred to as ‘the brig’.

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Transportation:

Inisfreean police-women drive or fly to any residence whose master has scheduled a slave girl for time in Inisfree’s prison system. These Inisfreean police, always behaving professionally and handling each slave girl with care and firmness, take the designated slave girl, ensuring she is stripped nude except for her slave collar, marching her by a leash attached to both a temporary choke collar and her slave collar, as well as with a fistful of her hair, out of her master’s estate to the side of their police vehicle (Inisfree’s version of the Tumbler from the Batman films) where she is instructed through a series of positions allowing them the most efficient control of her body as they conduct a hair and cavities search, hand-cuff her (with her hands behind her back), ankle-cuff her, blindfold her (locking an opaque hood down over her head and around her neck), and sit her in the backseat of their police vehicle, never once reading her any rights, as is usually the case with police in the Outlands, for slaves have no rights other than the temporary rights they are sometimes given by their masters. A five-point safety-harness is secured around her torso (Inisfree’s version of the seat-belt), and the passenger door through which she was placed into this backseat then automatically closes and locks itself, sealing the slave girl in the padded cage which is the backseat of each police vehicle in this city. Virtually indestructible, it is impossible for such slaves to break out. If they put up a fight, they are shocked with a slave goad (like a taser, electric stun gun, or cattle prod), as is the case on the planet Gor. If they make noise while they are being driven to the prison, they are yanked out of the backseat and beaten brutally, then thrown back in –as many times as is needed to silence them. Once they reach the prison, no slave girl ever being able to see the route to this facility (further ensuring each girl feels lost and helpless in this process; feeling that escape is hopeless), the police take the slave girl they have driven here out of their vehicle’s backseat, handing her over to the Inisfreean guards at the prison gates. These gates are in an underground chamber much like a vault, fully lit from all angles, with dozens of Inisfreean warriors manning it, and there are always at least two sets of Inisfreean hands on the slave girl being processed in, making it pointless to attempt to flee. With this hand-over completed, the police drive their vehicle back out, resuming their patrol route, and the Inisfreean guards take the slave girl deeper into the vault-like chambers of this prison, eventually handing her over to a few of its wardens. By the time she makes it to this point, it is probable that every single one of these police, guards, and wardens have used her very thoroughly; with the roughest sex imaginable… right up until the point she cries out in pain, fear, and total submission, too scared to even beg for it to stop. This is not part of her punishment as a prisoner, though; it is a gift to her for cooperating up until this point; one last sexual experience before her monk-like existence as a prisoner somewhere in Inisfree begins… and lasts, uncompromisingly, for a period of time unbeknownst to her. For her to escape, she would have to find a solution to the teleportation jamming fields, the tracking device which doubles as her slave collar, the fact that her entire brain’s and body’s signatures are also being constantly used to pinpoint her location, the fact that all Inisfreean tunnels and vehicles are artificial intelligences linked into the network keeping her imprisoned for the amount of time scheduled by her master, the fact that all her wardens and guards are superhuman, and the fact that she is more than one third of a mile underground, and in a facility that is not connected in any way to service tunnels, caves, or rock which she can dig through. In other words, once she is transported in, she won’t be able to achieve transport out –without permission.

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Drinks and Meals:

All Inisfreean prison inmates are females, and all females in this prison must gather water and food for everyone. No female in this prison may gather water or food for herself. All water comes from the fire hoses always controlled by the wardens (Master Females), so each prisoner must carry two buckets back and forth to be filled by those wardens via their fire hoses until the return trips of her and the rest of her cell-mates have been enough to fill up the water troughs in the public areas of their cell blocks. All food is a gruel-like slop, almost a stew, which is brought into the cell blocks via separate hoses designed just for that, and the same process; carrying buckets from the hose heads to the troughs, is used to fill those feeding devices up prior to each meal. All meals are served in feeding troughs identical to what pigs would eat out of. All drinks are served in drinking troughs identical to what horses would drink out of. Individual meals, such as for those in solitary confinement, are served in feeding bags identical to the muzzle-like kind strapped onto horses’ heads when they eat in that way. All eating and drinking must be done with the mouth only; no utensils or use of hands is permitted under any circumstances. No prisoners here are permitted to ration or save food or drinks, and must never have either in their cells. Offenders may be denied up to two of their three meals a day, though this punishment seldom lasts for more than one week. Those who refuse the assigned food and drinks are force fed and dunked in the drinking troughs until they cough and panic. There are three meals each day, and this is the only time our prisoners are allowed to eat or drink. Each meal period is allowed to take up to half an hour, though all females here are typically hurried through this process in five minutes or fewer. All the food is cold, and all the water is lukewarm, and all sauces, seasonings, spices, and ice are nowhere to be found in this prison. Also, all girls during feeding and watering time are locked in place by their slave collars to their assigned kneeling spots up along the front of their assigned trough, and their ankles are cuffed together, and their wrists are cuffed together behind their backs; this prevents food fights and the attempted stealing of other’s portions from the troughs. Girls who have been performing well will sometimes be rewarded by being raped (double or triple penetrated) by nearby or passing wardens (Master Females) while they eat and drink from these troughs they are locked into kneeling position before. To conclude each meal, the troughs are sprayed out by the wardens wielding their fire hoses again, and the girls imprisoned here are kept kneeling with their collars locked right up to the edge of their feeding and drinking troughs until the hosing down is finished, ensuring that they all get splattered with it all the whole time (which they will clean up later during mandatory hygiene and cleaning time).

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Recess:

Physical exercise consists of forced gymnastics, forced jogging, and forced time hog-tied and immobilized in a glory hole (a container barely spacious enough for one girl to fit in, with a hole in front of her mouth and apex such that, while kept bent over in this container, all who pass by and wish to make use of any or all of her three main holes may have no obstructions or resistance of any kind). Swimming is not permitted, as it feels too good, refreshing, and calming to a girl, and when the girls in this prison are commanded to do, and directed in doing, gymnastics and jogging, it is always in formations; rectangular groups of their fellow inmates, and always under precise harassment by their wardens (Master Females) wielding stinging bamboo swords, fire hoses, buckets of sand, and ‘switches’ (a switch, in this case, is a lead marble fastened into a leather strap for beating someone with). This approach to physical fitness keeps the girls alert, aware, obedient, and sinuous. All females in this prison spend a mandatory two hours every day involved in this form of recess, and there are no exceptions; no holidays, religious observances, sick days, or weekends.

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Study Hall:

Mental exercise consists of forced practice of all things taught to the absolute best female pleasure slaves of the planet Gor; every subject and technique a girl will ever need to be beautiful, graceful, seductive, and sensationally sexy in all ways and at all times, even if all she is doing is walking through a doorway, offering to refill a goblet, or kneeling with proper posture and silence. All periods of study are spread out amongst even intervals of physical exercise to keep the girls’ blood pumping and their whole beings vital and active, for it is very clear that an active, mobile girl is a quicker learner and sharper student, and always possessing the much sexier emotion and attitude of positivity and readiness. All females in this prison spend a mandatory eight hours every day studying all subjects deemed necessary for satisfactory kajirae work. Also, during study time, unless they are being taught the various dances of the female pleasure slaves, all prisoners remain locked in place by the backs of their slave collars to the nearest metal rings fused into the walls and floors.

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Solitary Confinement:

Though this is a punishment in Outlander prisons, it is a mandatory part of each day in the Inisfreean prison. It is a more regimented and monitored form of meditation here, and all females who pass through our prison system in Inisfree must don a straitjacket, locked hood (an opaque bag sealed around the neck), ankle-cuffs, and a penis-shaped ball-gag fastened by leather straps about the neck and head like a muzzle, keeping each girl in solitary confinement in this facility accustomed to deep-throating with no possible way of resisting or taking a break from it (and this dildo-gag is worn under the locked hood). Prisoners are also forbidden to arouse themselves at this time. They must remain perfectly silent and still, and if a girl appears to be napping or masturbating, she will be beaten and thrown around her solitary confinement cell. The end of each day’s solitary confinement time period is signaled by fire hoses being used to knock each hooded, cuffed, and jacketed girl to the back of her cell, where she must struggle to her feet or be subjected to a never-ending assault from this frigid and painfully strong flow of water. Girls who try to go numb or shut down quickly learn that they always become overwhelmed with frustration and then anger, leaving them helpless but to involuntarily force themselves to their feet, standing upright at the position of attention in order to earn an end to the fire hoses’ assaults. Girls who don’t perform satisfactorily during any solitary confinement period may be kept hooded, cuffed, and jacketed like this for the following 24-hour period; yes, they must even sleep with the dildo-gag kept on as their muzzle inside the locked hood, but many girls here learn to love this like a pacifier. Every solitary confinement period lasts a mandatory two hours. This is one of the best ways for girls here to get ready for bed.

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Sleep:

All females sent to this prison are required to sleep at their assigned times, and are expected to sleep for six hours every night. The exception is that mandatory fire-watch (the duty of standing guard to be the first to notice, report, and respond to fires or other problems while others are sleeping) is stood in two-hour shifts throughout each night, and supercomputers ensure that every single prisoner stands the same amount of fire-watch –even if they are a bit wounded from any event in this prison system. The wardens of this facility supervise each fire-watch change-over, ensuring that no prisoner here ever holds the unlocking device for the slave collars (which is required to free a prisoner from her cell for fire-watch), and ensuring that no girl is ever late for relieving the girls on fire-watch before her shift. Each girl who has performed her duties as a prisoner well… gets to sleep with up to three other female prisoners in her cell, though never of any of their choosing; their cell-mates are selected and rotated out for them. Also, during sleep time, all prisoners are locked to their assigned spots on the concrete floor (and its sparse covering of old straw) by a bolt holding the back of their slave collars to a heavy metal loop just a few inches from where the walls meet the floors.

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Hygiene:

All prisoners are required to shower twice each day, and they must shower in assigned groups of at least two dozen girls, always supervised, preventing ambushes by gangs during these times. Their slave collars remain on during showering, forcing them to strain to wash around and under those collars, and each prisoner is paired up with the other prisoner she is most at odds with. This keeps the girls who hate each other more than anyone else… chain-linked together by the backs of their slave collars. When one errs, both are beaten. When one tries to blackmail or frame the other, the one who would have been the victim gets to beat the one who made the plan or attempt, and Inisfreean wardens (Master Females) stand in a circle around the chain-linked pair to ensure that the one being beaten stands at the position of attention, or remains kneeling with her knees wide open and her eyes straight forward, not resisting in any way at all to the blows of her beating. All this goes on during hygiene time, and the blood from nostrils and lips is easily washed away in the public shower stalls -which are, of course, manned by more Master Females wielding fire hoses (no prisoners in this facility are permitted faucets or shower-heads). Also, the only way for these prisoners to wash each other is by hand and tongue, and they are not allowed to wash themselves. Thus, the girls who hate each other the most… must hand-wash and tongue-wash each other clean twice daily, knowing that if they don’t do a perfectly thorough job every time, come inspecting time, both of them will be beaten -and likely denied at least one meal and drinking period. Lastly, there are no soaps, shampoos, or conditioners in this facility; just water. Fortunately for the girls imprisoned here, in Inisfree, hair simply cannot tangle.

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Uniforms:

All prisoners here are required to be nude at all times. The exceptions are the slave collars which must always be on and locked, and the chains, cuffs, gags, and hoods which must sometimes be worn. Even during study hall, even the most revealing of camisks is forbidden; nothing but assigned prisoner bondage devices are allowed as clothing, as anything more would slightly reduce the amount of freezing and other suffering these girls must endure as part of their routine sentences for conditioning here.

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Reveille:

Every morning all prisoners are awoken en masse by the same fire hoses that are used to shower them and signal them to the position of attention at the completion of their solitary confinement times. Since all girls imprisoned in this facility sleep with their slave collars bolted to where their sleeping spot’s wall meets its floor, they cannot move out of the way of the fire hoses’ frigid and beating sprays, so instead they are trained to indicate they are awake and ready for the day by spreading their feet and hands as far apart as possible, exposing their entire bodies to the fire hoses’ sprays until their wardens (Master Females) are satisfied. If any one girl fails to do this, all the girls in her cell block continue to get sprayed. With their uniform being nudity, minus their slave collars, they do not even have the luxury of a locked hood to shield their faces from what the fire hoses so mercilessly and tirelessly dish out.

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Cleaning:

Not to be confused with hygiene time, cleaning time each day consists of tidying up the cell blocks, and all prisoners must participate. Typical cleaning duties include:

lying on the floors and low-crawling (moving almost like a snake) to push a brief towel firmly along the floor to collect any dirt, dust, lint, or other unwanted particles
refilling the warden’s buckets with fresh sand so they will always have plenty nearby to throw at the prisoners for various offenses and failures
sweeping, scrubbing, and then mopping every reachable surface in the public and individual parts of the cell blocks, such that ‘white glove inspections’ (inspections using a white dress-uniform glove to check for the slightest traces of unclean spots and crevices) never result in dirtied glove fingers (and it should be noted that the brooms, brushes, and mops have no poles as handles; they must be pushed along the floor by hand while kneeling or squatting)
washing (by hand) all of the mop heads for later use, and hand-picking the brooms clean for later sweeping
carrying all dirty water to the shower stalls to be poured down their drains (any girl who spills hers has her entire head dunked in a full bucket of it, and any girl who trips or otherwise messes up another girl on her way to dump dirty water is waterboarded with it)
carrying all rubbish bins (trash cans, often full of what was picked and swept up) to the wall ports which they are robotically sealed to (under supervision, of course) in order to empty them without the possibility of any prisoner using this task to escape (and girls who spill their rubbish bins are first sprayed down with a fire hose, then splashed on both sides with buckets of dirty water, and finally dropped into full rubbish bins so that the maximum amount of trash possible sticks to them for the rest of the day)
polishing the slave collars so they are always clean and shiny (each girl must polish the slave collar of the girl she is most at odds with, as girls cannot see their own slave collars to accurately polish them)

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Property:

Almost all females in Inisfree who are not born via the city’s cloning facilities are its kajirae; its female pleasure slaves. Thus, they cannot own or have property, as property cannot possess property, in accordance with the Inisfreean Way; Inisfreean law. No prisoners in the Inisfreean prison are allowed any personal effects, such as photos of loved ones or anything else. All they bring with them are their slave collars, and each of those is serialized, scanned, routinely manually checked, and constantly monitored by supercomputers via multiple tracking methods.

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Inspections:

Formal examinations of bodies, minds (what they learned during study hall), and living spaces (prison cells) take up the rest of each day’s remaining 4.5 hours. Inspections usually last anywhere from one hour to three, and there are at least two formal, mass (group) inspections every day, with surprise inspections at random times in the middle of some nights. Girls here will be failed during an inspection for something as little as a single piece of straw being stuck to them after a hasty reveille, or a single crumb of food being left on the corner of their lips after feeding time. Forgetting a single bit of kajirae knowledge (anything a female pleasure slave is expected to memorize and keep memorized for her entire life) not only results in the failure of an inspection, but having to recite that which was forgotten or answered incorrectly… while remaining in the push-up position while a few wardens simultaneously dump buckets of sand on the forgetful girl, kick her sides, spit on her face, tug her hair, and finger-blast her asshole. Girls who forget multiple pieces of kajirae knowledge, or forget a single piece of kajirae knowledge multiple times, must maintain even more strenuous exercise positions, such as putting their backs up against the sheer, smooth, concrete walls and squatting down as if to sit in a chair, though nothing is beneath them, with wardens all the while harassing and attempting to distract, confuse, and fluster them in all the same ways as previously mentioned. Sometimes forgetful girls will also be ordered to stand on one foot while holding out buckets of water in front of them, or out to their sides, and the moment their arms shake enough to spill a single drop of water from either bucket, they will have to dump and refill them, then start over. Sometimes the wardens will take the buckets from them, dump the rest of the water right down onto the girls’ heads, slap them hard, back and forth across both cheeks several times, then have the girls refill them. If any girls cry, or make enough mistakes during any one period throughout any of the days of their sentences, every girl in her cell block will be lined up in a circle, on their hands and knees, with each girl’s nose and mouth pressed firmly up against the asshole of the girl in front of her in the circle. At such a point, the inspection will continue until all girls have answered all the questions asked of them, with zero tolerance for any girls who fart, laugh, get aroused, or even accidentally smirk or grin for a second. This gets all of the girls in the proper, healthy mindset of always being ready to answer any question asked of them in the format expected from them, as well as keeping them fully familiarized and comfortable with ass-to-mouth sex, literally, for nothing must phase a slave girl; they must not only have instant, willing obedience to all orders, but also clearly love to do all things commanded of them, as naturally as they blink and breathe.

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Using the Bathroom:

In Inisfree, girls must ask to use the toilet-room if they need to use a toilet. A bathroom, in the Inisfreean language, is literal; just a room with a bath(tub). And so it is that in this prison, a part of Inisfree, that girls must ask to use the toilet when they need to defecate or urinate. There are no rooms reserved for toilets or baths here in this prison facility, so what this means is that each prisoner is requesting permission to use a bucket as a toilet, always in the center of the largest public room of her cell block, always in front of all the other cell-mates and wardens passing all around her on their duties and training for the day, and always with a strict time limit in which she must finish getting all of her feces and/or urine out, lest she be beaten for violating her assigned time limit, then made to hold her bladder and/or bowels for longer later on (the next time she needs to use the bucket-toilet). After using this prison form of a toilet, each girl must request further permission; she must request permission to carry it to one of the wall ports which receive and sanitarily process such things. Then she must clean the bucket and return it, as it is the only ‘toilet’ in the cell block; one toilet-bucket per cell block of dozens of imprisoned Outlander girls. At night, a girl needing to use this ‘toilet’ must request that the passing fire-watch girl (also a prisoner here) request permission for her from the nearest warden, as all girls not on fire-watch are secured by their slave collars to where the wall meets the floor in their prison cells, making it impossible for them to do so (they are not allowed to telepathically call out to the Inisfreeans while they are prisoners here, as that would be too easy). If she is denied permission, yet is desperate to relieve herself, she may do so on herself; she may soil her sleeping area of sparse straw on concrete, then continue sleeping in it, but she will be beaten for this as soon as it is noticed, and additionally punished later throughout the following day. Fortunately for girls in Inisfree, however, they will rarely if ever need to do what Outlanders call ‘using the bathroom’, as all Inisfreean foods and drinks are designed to result in very little waste, if any at all.

–

Schedule:

2300-0500: sleep and fire-watch
0500-0530: reveille and morning hygiene
0530-0600: morning inspection (of bodies, minds, and cells; rooms)
0600-0610: movement to morning chow (breakfast)
0610-0630: morning chow; prisoners are locked by their slave collars to the feeding
and drinking troughs
0630-0640: movement to morning exercise
0640-0740: morning exercise
0740-0750: movement to the group showers
0750-0800: group showers
0800-0810: movement to study hall
0810-1210: study hall, first half
1210-1220: movement to afternoon chow (lunch)
1220-1240: afternoon chow
1240-1250: movement to recess
1250-1450: recess
1450-1500: movement back to study hall
1500-1900: study hall, second half
1900-1910: movement to evening chow (dinner)
1910-1930: evening chow
1930-1940: movement to solitary confinement
1940-2140: solitary confinement
2140-2150: movement to evening hygiene
2150-2200: evening hygiene
2200-2210: movement to evening inspection
2210-2240: evening inspection (of bodies, minds, and cells; rooms)
2240-2250: movement back to cells in preparation for lights-out (bedtime)

–

Closing Remarks:

Lastly, 100% of the time, it has been found –without a doubt, that girls sentenced to Inisfree’s prison discover they love and crave it, many times finding it difficult to reach orgasm or feel love for any masters who do not regularly send them here (which helps further our efforts to repopulate the Earth with a higher percentage of real men and real women at long last). They also find that they tremble as much in arousal and eagerness for the lash of the whip… as they do in fear of it. Furthermore, all girls who have been inmates here learn the deepest love both of and for their masters, realizing that they are sent here because they are loved and treasured, and because their masters understand their natures best; that they need this type of prison sentence in order to feel most alive, understood, and feminine. It is perhaps 100% of Outlander females in Inisfree who daydream, dream, and fantasize consciously about being sent here, wondering when their masters will next send them, and hoping and praying –and masturbating– that it will be soon; very, very soon. Girls become addicted to it, but in a good way; institutionalized the way they have always secretly, deeply hoped and prayed for, for nothing else could command as much constant attention, scrutiny, and demand of these girls, showing them what they are made of, and giving them a pride, bond, and sense of purpose and community that you just can’t find anywhere else. This is why there is another saying (though this one not of Gor, but of the U.S. Marine Corps of Earth); that “All good Marines” (or kajirae, in this case) “go to the brig.”

–

2021 Update: History

Every millennia since 2013, this facility has seen an increase of ~317,074 sexy girls (mostly human) either 1) worthy of training to become kajirae, or 2) already kajirae who are being housed here for various reasons. That’s an increase of ~317/year; another 1 incoming every ~2 days, give or take. This is Inisfree, and these girls were destined and thrilled for this, loving the challenge, honors, lifestyle, and rewards.

2012: 0
2013: ~10,000 (of the 144,000 Raptured)
2014: ~10,255 (another 255 each year until 2100)
2015: ~10,510
2100: ~31,711 (another ~31,709 per century; ~317 more girls sent/coming here per year)
2200: ~63,418
2300: ~95,125
2400: ~126,832
2500: ~158,539
2600: ~190,246
2700: ~221,953
2800: ~253,660
2900: ~285,367
3000: ~317,074
4000: ~634,154
5000: ~951,228
6000: ~1,268,302
7000: ~1,585,376
8000: ~1,902,450
9000: ~2,219,524
10000: ~2,536,598
11000: ~2,853,672
12000: ~3,170,746
13000: ~3,487,820
14000: ~3,804,894
15000: ~4,121,968
16000: ~4,439,042
17000: ~4,756,116
18000: ~5,073,190
19000: ~5,390,264
20000: ~5,707,338
21000: ~6,024,412
22000: ~6,341,486
23000: ~6,658,560 (capacity)

–

Location:

–

Girls in Kennels:

–

obviously minus the piercings

–

2022 Update: Scale-model in Minecraft

–

2024/+:

Any owner of a kenneled kajirae can drive here to pick her up, but only Auz, ICVs, and kajirae, can go into this set of silos. Owners can also request we deliver kenneled kajirae back to them. When there is no hurry, we drive them, and when there is… we can use our portals.

2026 May updates:

many favorite Gor excerpts:

“I whipped them,” he said, “and they were silent. Interestingly, I have never had a girl who claimed to be from Earth, who had been fully owned, who wished to return. Indeed, it is enough merely to threaten such 1 girl with return to Earth to make them do anything.” He smiled. “They love their collars.”

“The barbarian,” said the slave master, “is highly intelligent, as the intelligence of females goes, but, strangely, her body is stupid; its muscles seem locked together.”

“We have subjected her to an intense exercise program,” said the man, “but we have had little success. She does not yet feel as a female, so she does not yet move as a female. I think she does not yet know what it is to be a female.” “That,” I said, “she will learn from a man.”

“She has a bit more fluidity, more sensuality, in her body movement now,” he said. “She moves somewhat better than she did. Here are her exercises.” He thrust a sheet of paper to me. I looked at it. They were familiar exercises, slave-female: exercises, designed to keep a girl supple, loose, vital, fit, for her master. “You are familiar with matters of diet?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. The diet of the slave girl was regulated with the same attention and care as that which a man of Earth would bestow on his prize hunting dogs, or otherwise esteemed domestic animals. Caloric intake was supervised with particular care. A common problem with slave girls was petty thievery, as they attempted to steal pastries or sweets. Many slave girls have a craving for sweets. These are commonly kept from them. A girl might have to perform superbly for hours before her master before he, in his generosity, would consent to throw her a candy.

“Her body, of course,” said the man, “is now much more alive to the world about her.”

The stimulation chamber would have accomplished this. Now her skin would be much more aware of such tiny things as a change in air movement in a room, temperature, humidity, and such; also she would now be more keenly sensitive to differences in textures with which her body might come in contact, such as the granulation of the stones on which her feet walked, whether there was slight moisture on tiles, the fall of silk, in different varieties, on her shoulder, the precise feeling of the pile of a rug beneath her thigh, the exact feeling of a strap cinched on her body, the exact feeling of slave bracelets, cool and inflexible, on her small wrists. Her entire body would, now, be alive, an organ of touch, a sheet of sentience and vitality. I was satisfied. It was a step toward sensuality.

Calling females who are shorter than us/males “little” or “shorty” is a compliment/truth, and normal/natural/goodnatured/feminine/submissive females understand and love this, not even needing it taught/explained.

Also, it reminds them of their nature/place; they are less than us, in a good/sexy way, our subordinates in all ways. They love and lust for this just as much. Amen.

I observed as the girl knelt. I thought the slave master too modest. Subtly, but unmistakably, she was a different girl. She still had far to go, but there was no doubt as to the fact that improvement had heed wrought in her. Interestingly, I sensed that the girl did not really understand certain changes, which had been brought about in her. Doubtless she still thought herself the identical girl who had been placed in the pens. Certain of these changes, mostly in movements, and ways of holding the body, are, sometimes, unconscious concomitants of the training of the girl: they accompany, as pleasant consequences, a latent value, other forms of training which have rather different manifest objectives. An obvious example is the stimulation-chamber training, which is overtly, concerned with honing a physical and psychological responsiveness to surface sensation, this responsiveness, however, is reflected in the entire attitude, and expressions, of the girl. One does not, so to speak, train the girl to “look vital”; rather one makes her vital; she then, perhaps without even understanding it, or thinking about it, looks vital.

She knelt obediently, beautifully, as a pleasure slave.

I saw her body straighten itself, exposing itself, drinking in the atmosphere of the room. Her eyes were very much alive, very blue.

“What about such things,” I asked the slave master, “as giving pleasure to men.”

“We have shown her some simple things,” he said, “about all she is now capable of.”

“Have you taught her to dance?” I asked.

“She is not yet ready to dance,” said the slave master.

“Stand, girl,” I said to her in Gorean.

Gracefully she stood. I observed her.

“Kneel,” I told her. Again she knelt, in the position of the pleasure slave.

I pointed to the stones at my feet. “Crawl,” I said, in Gorean.

The girl slipped to her belly, and, as a slave girl, crawled to my feet. She put her lips to my foot; I felt her hair over it. “Return,” I told her. On her belly, head down, she returned to where she had knelt.

“Kneel,” I said.

Again she knelt in the position of the pleasure slave.

“She has been diligent?” I asked the slave master.

“Yes,” he said.

I had little doubt that the lovely Alyena would one day, in the arms of a strong man, for whom I was saving her; become a true slave, adoringly and vulnerably the property of her master.

“I am a woman at your mercy,” she wept. “Please, Master, do not hurt me!”

Then the slave master said, “Put her in slave silk, and give her to male slaves.”

I put the walking chains on her.

and Annabella. All kajirae and other sexy females naturally heel me eagerly, paying attention to my every subtle body language and tone, not just my direct verbal commands to them. They naturally wholeheartedly wish to learn everything I wish them to learn, and to please me in all ways. Annabella is one of the greatest at this, as it comes naturally to her, even before we trained her, and the training made her goddess-level femininely graceful and sexy, sexier than most females can ever Hope to become. Even when I am not around, and when others are using her, she fantasizes about me. She doesn’t let this distract her much from her purposeful striving to be fully pleasing to whomever she is assigned/loaned to, but it is always where her mind ends up going back to. She is, as they say, sired to me in that way.

For an outwardly-beautiful female to Not default to eagerly being and doing whatever I want her to, I regard as primitive, backward, barbaric, and unworthy, not feminine or compatible with me at all.

Perfect beauty is the bare minimum to warrant any attention at all, and perfect behavior paired with perfect beauty is the only way more than my first assessment-glance is earned.

Moodiness, frustration, tantrums, outbursts, and argumentativeness of any kind is not tolerated by me. Perfect-looking females must instead default to communicating clearly and politely to me their apology for not initially pleasing me, and their desire that I, if it pleases me, inform them how they should improve their conduct.

When they do that, and nothing is distracting me from enjoying them, then and only then can we proceed to play together.

The slightest meddling/intrusion/interruption from others, and the entire town or city or bloodline might need to pay.

And anyone who doesn’t eagerly offer whatever I want from them And from their sexiest females… is likely to be tortured indefinitely –including in the afterlife.

Only to those who always give me their best… do I give My best.

Only to those who share my culture and values… do I ‘hear’ and offer kinship to.

Everyone else is unnatural, an enemy at first sight.

I regard all as my slaves, too –until they earn a different classification in my mind.

Good/Destined kings and queens know/sense this, and accept it, knowing that their royalty/rule is subject to my approval –over and over, forever.

“She does not know how to dance,” I said. Then, to the girl, in English, I said, “You are not yet ready to dance for the pleasure of men.” She shrank back. “Of course not,” she said, in English. But I could see that, in spite of her anger, her denial, her eyes had been excited, curious. Doubtless she had, from time to time, wondered what it would be like, a collared slave girl, to dance naked in the sand, in the light of the campfire, laboring vulnerably under whip-threat to please Gorean warriors. It would be a long time, I thought, before the cool, white-skinned Alyena would beg, “Dance me! Dance me for the pleasure of men!”

In Gorean female dance the girl is expected, often, to satisfy, fully, whatever passions she succeeds in arousing in her audience. She is not permitted merely to excite, and flee away: when, at the conclusion of the swirling music, she flings herself to the floor at the mercy of free men, her dance is but half finished; she has yet to pay the price of her beauty.

“It will not be necessary, Master,” said Alyena, loftily, in Gorean, “to use the whip on me, to make me dance.”

“I know,” I laughed, “Slave!”

Gradually, as a girl begins to realize she is a slave, truly, in a society in which there are slaves, and in which one can truly be just that, and without an escape, a fantastic transformation takes place in her. I could already see the beginnings of this transformation in Alyena. She was already becoming excited about her collar, and her ownership by men. She was becoming curious about them. She was becoming brazen, and shameless, as befits an article of property. She was now permitting herself thoughts and dreams that might have scandalized a free woman, but were for her, only a slave, quite appropriate. She was becoming …

pretty, and provocative. She was becoming sensual. She was becoming sly, clever, owned

Now I had seen her lift her body, beautifully, in removing her veil before men. I had seen her curiosity about what it would be to dance before them. She had informed me that it would not be necessary for me to use the leather on her, before she would apply herself to the lessons of the dances of slave girls.

The lovely Alyena, though she did not know it, and would have refused to believe it, was coming along quite well.

She was becoming a slave girl.

((reminds me of how typist originally wrote Ambi moodily resisting some things, but acquiescing to them, with an outburst here or there, but now regularly hosts sex shows for me, even when I don’t ask, and even voluntarily got collars for herself and all her women she has let me fuck; she has become my heart-slave. I do not think she was just pretending well to be.))

…Maybe irl she still needs some time to get used to the idea of being owned by me, my top sex-pet, not just my beloved and high queen.

Her body was relaxed, but, nonetheless, held beautifully.

“Prepare to please a free man,” I told the girl.

She bent down, her leg extended and, moving it, flexing it, slowly, to the music, from her knee to the thigh, caressed it. Alyena was good, because, in her belly, though she still did not know it, burned slave fire.

Instinctively, of course, to be looked upon by a man with power thrills a woman. They desire, desperately, to please him. This is particularly true of a slave girl, whose femaleness is most shamelessly and brazenly bared.

my own words: It is a logical instinct in females to attempt to arouse and satisfy rich powerful men,

as, even though it tends to mean fewer chores or menial labors for them, thus that they are less knowledgeable or versatile,

that their bodies remain soft, uncalloused, unstressed, or less stress, thus that their femininity remain more distinct and striking,

catching or holding such attentions better and longer, etc.

But most credit, surely, had to go to the girl herself. With fantastic diligence had she applied herself to her lessons, and practices. Even so small a thing as the motion of the wrist she had practiced for hours.

I turned. “Kneel,” said I. “Say ‘I am tamed.’ “

Immediately she knelt. “I am tamed,” she said. She smiled.

Her lip was swift to tremble, her eyes swift to moisten, filling with bright tears. Her feelings were easily hurt, a valuable property in a slave girl. Too, she could not control her feelings, another excellent property in a slave girl. Her feelings, vulnerable, deep, exploitable, in her expressions and on her face, betrayed her, exposing her to men, and their amusement, as helplessly as her stripped beauty. They made her more easily controlled, more a slave. I had once seen her handwriting. It, too, was extremely feminine. I watched her dance. Too, in her belly, perhaps most important of all, burned slave fire. She would do quite well. She would bring a high price. Only a rich man, I speculated, would be able to afford her.

She … was a piece of delicious woman meat, a luscious, if inadequately disciplined piece of female flesh. To see her was to want her.

“Vella,” said I, “is a highly intelligent, complex woman.”

“Such make the best slaves,” said Ibn Saran.

“True,” I said. Indeed, who would want to collar any other sort of woman? To take the most brilliant, the most imaginative, the most beautiful women, and put them at your feet, impassioned, helpless slaves is victory.

“She is an excellent little slave,” said Ibn Saran, “and most pleasing on the cushions.”

She squared her shoulders. She stood very straight. Her eyes flashed. “My master,” She said, “does with me precisely what he pleases. He is not weak!”

“My will must bend to his, perfectly, completely, in all. I am nothing. He is all. He is the master.”

“If permitted,” she smiled. “Often I serve nude.” She laughed. “It is at night that I truly labor! Oh, the things he has made me do, things I would never have dreamed of!”

“Do the other riders share you?” I asked.

“Of course,” she said. “I am normally the only girl in camp.

“They are taken to oases, to be sold,” she said. “My labors as a slave,” she confided, “are not limited to the nights. He uses me often. Sometimes, when his need is on him, he calls me in, sweaty, from work, and makes me serve him. Sometimes he merely throws my skirt over my head and hurls me to the mats, taking me swiftly, then ordering me to resume my work outside.”

“No,” she said, “he is not brutal, but he is severe.”

She smiled. “I am kept under the strictest of discipline,” she said.

“Meaningful,” she said, “– and thrilling!”

“No!” she cried. “In my heart I have always been a true slave girl. I only pretended to be free. Whip me for it! Though I was fortunate enough never to be collared or branded, or mastered, I am a natural slave! Though I have lived as a free woman since birth, I concealed the fact that I was a true slave!”

“Let me sell myself!” she wept.

She took a deep breath; she closed her eyes. Then she opened her eyes. “I sell myself into slavery,” she said.

His hand, open, was poised over the coin. Her eyes looked into his. His hand closed upon the coin; the transaction was completed.

“Chain this slave,” he said.

“Stand!” said the merchant. “Head back! Hands behind head! Bend backwards! Farther! Farther!” He turned to us. “Acceptable,” he said. Then to the girl he issued orders, rapidly, harshly. I watched, with interest, as the girl, tears in her eyes, responded to his swiftly issued, abrupt commands. For more than four Ehn he put her through a swift, staccato regimen of movement, a set of slave paces, assessment paces, designed to exhibit, vulnerably, decisively and publicly, her beauty, in all of it major attitudes and positions. “Hands on hips! Be insolent! Hands behind back! Hands crossed before you, as though bound! Hands at throat, as though chained to collar, fingers before mouth! Fall to the floor! Kneel! Head down! Head up! Bend backwards! Farther! Roll to the floor, on your side, on your back, right leg high, now flexed, left leg high, now flexed, to your side, right leg extended, palms on floor, left leg extended, palms on floor! Appear angry! Appear frightened! Appear aroused! Smile!” He did this with the same swift, expert objectivity, and clinical detachment, that a physician might bring to a routine medical examination; this examination, of course, was a beauty examination, assessing the desirability of a female slave. The whip cracked again.

“Crawl to his feet,” ordered the merchant.

The girl began to do so.

“On your belly,” said the merchant.

She did so. At his feet, unbidden, she pressed her lips to his slippers. “Keep me, Hassan,” she begged.

“To my lips,” he said.

She crept to her feet and lifted her lips to his. He tasted her well.

“Keep me, Hassan!” she wept.

He threw her back, to the center of the marble circle. “What is she worth?” asked Hassan of the merchant.

I knew that the metal collar of a female slave, that obdurate circlet of steel, locked, which she could not remove, so contrasting with her softness, so proclaiming its vulnerability and rightlessness, often transformed even an inhibited, hostile, cold wench, hating men, into an abandoned, yielding, man-vulnerable, passionate slave girl, loving to lie helpless at the mercy of their touch, that of masters.

“She loves you,” I told Hassan.

“I have given her no choice,” he said.

the true female, the awakened, helpless prisoner of her instincts and blood, with a fine mind, a deep, lovely, sensitive mind, imaginative and inventive, is the one the Goreans want, head down, at their feet. What man would want his collar on anything less precious?

sexy dancing outfit:

she wore six ribbons of silk, yellow, three before and three behind, some four feet in length, depending from her collar

the luscious slave who, so well-briefly clad, preceded me, I saw Vella, the vain wench, lift her body, instinctually, beautifully, brazenly, as the eyes of each man fell upon her. She, a slave girl, found much pleasure in being well displayed before masters

“Foolish female of Earth,” I laughed, “do you still understand so little of your incredible desirability? Do you not yet know that it drives men mad with desire to look upon you? Have you no sense, foolish woman, of the madness of passion the very sight of you inspires in men?”

She turned away. “I know that I am attractive,” she said. Her voice was uncertain, frightened.

“You are an ignorant female,” I said. “You do not know what the very sight of you does to men.”

She spun to face me, her eyes flashing. “What does it do?” she demanded.

“To see you is to want you,” I told her, “and to want you is to want to own you.”

“Own!” she cried, in horror.

“Yes,” I said. “Every man wants to own his woman, completely. He wants to have her in his absolute power. He wants to have absolute control over her, in every respect, however, minute. Dominance is genetically dispositional in his nature. Males are divided into those who satisfy their nature and those who do not. Males who satisfy their nature are vital and joyful, and, statistically, live long; those who deny their nature are miserable and, statistically, shorter lived, their tortured body chemistry falling prey frequently to hideous diseases.”

“Men want women to be free!” said Vella.

“Men, sometimes,” I said, “will accord small freedoms to women, thinking that these will make them more pleasing. Surely you are familiar with the master who, at certain moments, permits his girl to speak her mind. And at these moments she does so, well and boldly. But she knows that these permissions may, at his whim, be withdrawn. This torments her with joy, and she revels in his strength. He gives her what she most deeply desires, in the female genetic depth of her, the delicious feeling of her own domination, the subjection of her beauty and weakness to the will of a strong male.”

“Many of the happiest women I have known on Gor,” she whispered, “have been mere slave girls.”

“There is in them, perhaps,” I suggested, “a disposition to respond to dominance, to yearn for it, to seek it out, to, by their behavior, beg for it, They try to control, but in their hearts, they yearn to be controlled, totally, for they are females.”

“Do females,” I asked, “wish to relate to strong or weak males?”

“Strong males,” she said.

lhs social. “What if I should, in my heart, desire domination by Men?”

“A healthy society,” I said, “would make provision for the satisfaction of these feelings.”

“Most female slaves,” said Hassan, “walk very proudly. They are proud of their slavery, and their mastery by men, They have learned their womanhood. It has been taught to them. In their way, though imbonded, totally, I suppose they are the truest and freest of women. They are closest, perhaps, to the essentials of the female, those of subservience to the masculine will, obedience, service and pleasure. In being most themselves, utter slave, they are most free.

…Most girls, verbally, will object to slavery, but this half-hearted, pouting, ineffectual rhetoric is belied by the joy of their behavior. No girl who has not been a slave can understand the joy of it, the profundity and freedom. The objections of girls to slavery, I have noted, are usually not objections to the institution which, in the sweet heat of their bodies, they love dearly, and fear only to lose, but to a given master. Given the proper master they are quite content, in the proper collar a woman is serene and joyful.”

“They were proud of their bodies, their feelings, their desirability,” said Hassan, “and proud, too, of their masters, who had the will and power to put them in a collar and keep them there, because it pleased him to do so.”

“Too,” said Hassan, “undeniable females, secure in their sexuality, it was difficult not for them to be proud. Too, joy can make girls proud.”

Hassan shrugged. “Because they knew themselves to be the most perfect and profound of women,” he said. “That is why they are proud.” Hassan laughed. “Sometimes,” he said, “girls grow so proud it is necessary to whip them, to remind them that they are only slaves.”

“There is a difference,” laughed Hassan, “between the pride of a free woman and the pride of the slave girl, The pride of a free woman is the pride of a woman who feels herself to be the equal of a man. The pride of the slave girl is the pride of the girl who knows that no other woman is the equal of herself.”

Tarna suddenly shuddered, inadvertently, with pleasure. I could see that this insight had thrilled her to the quick.

taught, forcibly and clearly, that they are not the dominant organism? Have they been put, helpless, beneath the Will of a male? Have they learned their delicious vulnerability, that they are the male’s victim and prey, his pleasure and delight? And have they learned, to their helpless horror and joy, the fantastic things he can do to their body?

I had then dragged her by the neck to her own couch, that swift instruction be administered to her.

She was a woman who had been taught what men could do with her.

“Speak with care,” warned Hassan, “for soon, as much as any slut at the wall, you will belong to them.”

And in that foul cell, on the stinking straw, in the feeble light of the lamp outside, the once proud Tarna, now only a nameless slave girl, chained by masters, struggled to please us. We were not easy with her. We were harsh, and hard, and cruel. Often she wept and despaired of her ability to please us, but she was cuffed and kicked and set again about her duties.

“The slave hopes that she has pleased her masters,” whispered the girl.

Hassan looked at me. “She has much to learn,” he said, “but I think, in time, she may be satisfactory.”

“Yes,” she said. “I want to serve him as a female slave.”

to serve there as wench sport for her soldiers

she herself richly yielding rude soldiers delicious wench sport

“A girl is grateful,” she said, “if men should find her pleasing.”

“I love men,” she said. “They are so strong, so magnificent. I love being commanded by them. I love obeying them. I love knowing that if I displease them in the slightest, I will be whipped or slain. I had not known such feelings were possible.”

I regarded the girl in her rapture. How thrilled she was to discover the deliciousness of her own domination by men. Women desire male domination. Not receiving it they become petty, frustrated, competitive, hostile, and vicious, a function of this basic need having failed to be satisfied. The institution of female slavery in a society provides a vehicle for the expression and satisfaction of this basic need. The slave girl, of course, is completely and totally at the mercy of men. She is the most dominated of women. Further, her domination is supported by her civilization; it is legally binding and culturally sanctioned; it is complete; she sees it in the eyes of all who took upon her, it is complete, she is slave.

The Goreans believe, of course, that in the belly of every woman there is a slave girl, waiting to be revealed by the right master.

“You are too beautiful to be free,” I told her.

I did not let her kiss me. Rather, I, suddenly, with a larl’s ferocity, thrust my lips to hers, cruelly, in the raping kiss of the master, and pressed her savagely back into the straw, against the very stones of the dungeon cell in which she lay slave, chained, beneath me. She squirmed and then, held, cried out, a scream that must have carried to every cell, through every corridor, of that grim level, startling the enslaved beauties chained there, amusing the soldiers in whose arms they lay, a scream at once of wild love and of a helpless slave girl’s total submission.

I wanted to beg him on my knees to rape me.

had he so much as put his hand forth to touch my shoulder, I would have sunk trembling, eager, moaning, helpless, to the grass at his feet. I would have writhed before him for his slightest touch.

At a word from him, then, she leapt to her feet and he took her in his arms, as though he might own her, and she kissed him, as though she might be owned. Never had I seen human beings kiss like that. It seemed a deeply sensuous complementarity that shook me to the core. It was the kiss of lovers, but more than the kiss of lovers. It was the kiss of a lover who is owned and of one who owns his lover.

brought by strict diet and enforced exercise to optimum measurement

Only on Gor, in the presence of my captor, had I, at times, begun to suspect that there was an incredible, glorious world of experience, not forbidden on this planet, to which my nature as a female fully entitled me, could I but dare to be myself.

But my fear was groundless. I needed not dare. I needed not decide to become myself. Gorean men do not tolerate pretense and hypocrisy in a girl such as I was to be. Against my will, I would be forced to be what I was.

In the confines of the camp my captor had continued to restrict my feeding to his degrading handouts, which he would place in my mouth, or make me reach for, kneeling, not using my hands.

my need so much upon me, I knelt before him and, tears in my eyes, began kissing at his feet and legs. I lifted my eyes to him, filled with [team] (bad PDF transfer). “Rape me,” I begged. “Rape me!”

carrying meat to them in my teeth; later I had moved among them, as they had summoned me, pouring them wine and paga. I must take the goblet, fill it, kiss it delicately and proffer it to the male

He who was to act as referee then tore away from Eta the brief rag she wore. The men cried out with pleasure, smiting their left shoulders with the palms of their right hands. Eta regarded them

as she stood proudly, a cloth was thrown over her head and tied under her chin. She was hooded

–

Gorean slave positions - kajira Joy in a red camisk - fix face