FW Punishments

For interfering with the entertainment of men
Hog tied
Hood, blindfold and gag are threatened, but not done in this scene.
Feiqa danced.
The men cried out with pleasure, many of them joining in the song, and keeping time with their hands. I was incredibly proud of her. How joyful it is to own females and have absolute power over them.
...
“Disgusting! Disgusting!” cried the free woman, Boabissia, in her leather and furs, having returned to the fire, and she rushed forward, a stout, thick, short, supple, single-bladed quirtlike whip in her hand. She began to lash Feiqa, who fell to her knees, howling with misery, a whipped slave. “We do not allow such as you in an Alar camp!” cried the free woman. Feiqa put her head down. Again the lash fell on her. I leaped to the free woman and tore the whip from her hand, hurling it angrily to the side. She looked at me, wildly, in fury, not believing I had dared to interfere.
“What right have you to interfere?” she demanded.
“The right of a man who is not pleased with your behavior, female,” I said.
“Female!” she cried, in fury. “Yes,” I said.
Her hand darted to the hilt of the dagger she wore at her belt. I regarded her evenly. She, frightened, quickly removed her hand from the hilt of the dagger, crying out in frustration, in rage. Then she lifted her fists and, with the sides of them, together, struck towards me. “Oh!” she cried, in misery, in frustration. I had caught both her small wrists. She could not begin to free them. “Oh!” she cried in misery, in protest, as, inexorably, slowly, I forced her down. Then she was kneeling before me, her wrists in my grip. I turned her about and flung her to her belly, and then knelt across her thighs. I removed her dagger from its sheath. “No!” she cried. I then, with her own dagger, cut her clothing from her body.
“Binding fiber,” I said, not even looking, just putting out my hand. Some was fetched, a length of some five feet, or so, and, in a moment, with one end of the fiber, with a few loops and a knot, her wrists crossed, her hands were secured behind her back. I had tied her tightly, utterly helplessly, as I might have a slave. “Help!” she cried out to the warriors. “Help!” But none stirred to render her assistance. I then reversed my position on her body, kneeling now facing her feet, across the small of her back. I pulled her ankles up, behind her body, at an angle of about fifty degrees, and crossed them. I then, with the free end of the binding fiber, extending back from her wrists, tied them together, tightly, fastening them to her wrists.
“Please!” she cried to the warriors but none leapt to her succor.
I then lifted her up, in effect kneeling her, and then bent her back, her head back to the dirt, that the warriors might assess the bow of her beauty.
“She is pretty,” said a fellow. “Yes,” said another. It was true. She had a lovely figure. It had been hitherto muchly concealed from detection by the leather and furs she had worn, though even beneath them its subtle and tantalizing lineaments had been clearly suggested. “Come, see Boabissia,” called a fellow, “trussed like a tarsk!” Some more fellows, and even some free women, came over to look. Boabissia now permitted to kneel upright, squirmed, fighting the fiber. She was helpless. “Feiqa will now again dance,” I said.
“If you wish, you may be hooded or blindfolded. She looked down, sullenly, angrily, and shook her head. “If you cry out,” I said, “you will be gagged. Do you understand?” “Yes,” she said.
Mercenaries


When found to be irritable or troublesome
Stripped & chained to sleep on stone floor, no blanket or mat
If she has not pleased her master of late, she may be, of course, as a disciplinary measure, simply chained nude to the slave ring at in the bottom of the couch, sans both blanket and mat. The stones of the floor are hard and the Gorean nights are cold and it is a rare girl who, when unchained in the morning, does not seek more dutifully to serve her master.
This harsh treatment, incidentally, when she is thought to deserve it, may even be inflicted on a Free Companion, in spite of the fact that she is free and usually much loved. According to the Gorean way of looking at things a taste of the slave ring is thought to be occasionally beneficial to all women, even the exalted Free Companions.
Thus when she has been irritable or otherwise troublesome even a Free Companion may find herself at the foot of the couch looking forward to a pleasant night on the stones, stripped, with neither mat nor blanket, chained to a slave ring precisely as though she were a lowly slave girl.
It is the Gorean way of reminding her, should she need to be reminded, that she, too, is a woman, and thus to be dominated, to be subject to men. Should she be tempted to forget this basic fact of Gorean life the slave ring set in the bottom of each Gorean couch is there to refresh her memory. Gor is a man’s world.
Priest Kings


For just being an irritation
Gagged
Being stripped and manacled is threatened but not done in this scene
Boabissia had been a pain all morning. Scarcely had we been permitted to sleep. Even before dawn, when others were having their breakfasts, and later, in the vicinity of dawn, when the other wagons were preparing to leave camp, we had been urged to bestir ourselves.
...
“Brigands might only slay you,” said Boabissia, “but I am a free woman! I have much more to fear! I might be put in a collar, and made a slave. Like those sluts in the back! You could of thought of me! You never think of me!”
...
“Drunken tarsks, all of you!” said Boabissia.
We were not drunk, of course. Last night, perhaps, we might have been a little drunk.
...
I swung up to the wagon box I looked about in the wagon bed.
“We would then not be so far behind the others,” she said. “Oh!” she said.
Boabissia looked at me angrily.
“Good,” said Mincon.
With my thumb I pressed the small sack more deeply into her mouth, until her lovely sometimes irritating oral orifice was well stuffed with it. The small sack had drawstrings. These I took to the sides and yanked back, drawing them deeply back between her teeth, and then knotted them tightly behind the back of her neck. I could not make out what she was saying.
“Be silent,” I said to her.
She stopped saying whatever it was she was saying.
“You will leave this as it is,” I said, “until one of the men with the wagon sees fit to remove it.”
She looked at me.
“If you should remove it yourself, or attempt to do so,” I said, “it will be promptly replaced, or resecured, and you will be stripped and put in slave bracelets, your hands behind your back. Furthermore, you will then be put on a rope and will follow the wagon, naked, and so braceleted and gagged, as might a slave. Do you understand? If so, nod, Yes.”
Boabissia looked at me in fury. And then, tears in her eyes, she nodded. I then returned to the road.
“It is more peaceful now,” said Hurtha.
Mercenaries


For shaming a mans village (homestone)
Whipped
. “Sir!” she called. “Please! I am hungry!” Her face was lifted up to us. “Please, Sir!” she begged. “Look upon me! I am fair!” She hurried along beside us. “See!” she wept. She tore down her robes to her hips. “My breasts are well formed!” she said. “My belly is wet and hot! I will serve you even as a slave. I will do whatever you want. I do not ask for food for nothing. I will pay! I will pay!”
...
“I am Tula from your village,” she wept, “she who was too good for you, she who refused your suit!”
“You shame the village!” he cried.
“Whip me!” she wept.
He leaped down from the wagon box. Another wagon, to one side of us, rolled by. He dragged her, two stripes on her body, gray in the shadows, by the arm, back, and to the rear of the wagon. He stood her by the back, right wheel of the wagon. “Face the wheel,” he said. “Hold the wheel rim!” She seized it, putting her head down. He lifted the whip, in fury. “Whip me,” she said. Three blows fell upon her. “But feed me!” she begged. Two more blows struck her. Then she clung to the wheel, gasping, sobbing. As a male of her village it was his duty to discipline her for what shame she had brought on the village.
Mercenaries


For disregarding a mans instructions
Stripped naked and put in a slave kennel for the night
"Do not throw the bolt on your door," I said. She had been doing this, and it irritated me. "It is my bedroom," she said. "Of these lodgings," I said, " I am the rental master. It is your bedroom only upon my sufferance."
"Of course," she said, coldly, "I am your kept woman." "You may leave when you wish," I said. "Of course," she said, "I need only walk out upon the Gorean streets and see what will happen to me."
"You could sell yourself to an impotent maser," I said. Her eyes flashed angrily over the white silk of the house veil. "I invite you to leave," I said. "I do not want to leave," she said. "You prefer to be kept." I said. "Yes," she said coldly, "I prefer to be kept."
She then turned about and left the kitchen, where we had been talking. She went through the living room and going through the hall, passing the kennels, began to ascend the stairs. "Do not bolt the door," I called after her. "Why not?" she asked, angrily.
"There will be no iron between a keeper and his kept woman," I said, "unless it be by his will, such as a collar for her, or shackles or the bars of a cell." "I will do as I please," she said. "A keeper must always have access to his kept woman," I said. "I will do as I please," she said.
I listened to her door shut. I listened, carefully. Then I heard the iron bolt slid shut.
I sat cross-legged, behind the small table in the kitchen. Then I rose up and went to the storage box and took out some bread and dried meat. I chewed on it for a time. Then finishing it, I wiped my mouth. I then walked through the house to the stairs and climbed them.
She screamed, suddenly, clutching clothing about her. I stood in the threshold, the door awry, hanging off its hinges. The bold with its brackets was splintered from the heavy wood. She backed away, holding the clothing about her. "Don't hurt me," she said. "I would have opened the door!" I strode to her and stood before her. "I would have opened the door," she said. "A slave might be slain for such a lie." I said.
She did not meet my eyes. "You should knock," she said, "before entering a lady's bedroom." I tore away the clothing she held before her, casting it aside. She wore then only a light Gorean slip, white, which came high on her thighs. "I am not fully dressed!" she said. I took her and threw her on her belly on the couch. "What are you going to do to me?" she asked. "Strip you," I told her. From the back I ripped apart the white slip until she lay upon it. "Get out of my bedroom," she sobbed. "Be pleased that I do not this night made you earn your keep," I said.
"For the night," I told her, "this is not your bedroom." I seized her by the hair and pulled her, naked beside me, down the stairs. Before the first slave kennel, that farthest to the left as you face them, I stopped. With my left hand I flung up the sturdy, barred gate. I put the startled Miss Henderson on her hands and knees before the small opening. Then, with left hand in her hair, and my right hand on her left thigh, I thrust her bodily into the kennel. "This is your bedroom for the night, " I told her. I then threw down the iron gate. She turned about, clutching the bars. I turned the key in the lock, fastening her within.
Rogue


As Free Prisoners/Captives objecting to being naked
Lashed by a slave
I listened to the sounds of the Vosk River in the background. "Though we were free women, six of us, as you recall, including myself, we were apparently to be marched naked, chained by the neck, in coffle behind a sutler's wagon."
"You objected?" I inquired.
"I and another, Klio, perhaps you remember her, did."
"And what happened?" I asked.
"We were lashed," she said. "It was done by a terrible person, one named Liadne, put over us as first girl, though we were free and she a mere slave!"
Vagabonds


Daughter of an Ubar begging as a slave
...might be suspended naked, on a forty foot rope from one of the high bridges, to be lashed by tarnsmen, sweeping past her in flight
Talena would now be in Ar. How startled, how crushed would she have been, to learn at last, incontrovertibly, that her disownment was true. She had begged to be purchased, a slave’s act. Marlenus protecting his honor, on his sword and upon the medallion of Ar, had sworn her from him. No longer had she caste, no longer a Home Stone. The meanest peasant wench, secure in her caste right, would be more than Talena. Even a slave girl had her collar. I knew that Marlenus would keep her sequestered in the central cylinder, that her shame not reflect upon his glory. She would be in Ar, in effect, a prisoner. She was no longer entitled even to call its HomeStone her own. Such an act, by one such as she, was subject to public discipline. For it, she might be suspended naked, on a forty foot rope from one of the high bridges, to be lashed by tarnsmen, sweeping past her in flight.
Marauders

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