Stripped and put to the oar

I will not eat the gruel of bond-maids," said Aelgifu.
"You will eat it," said the Forkbeard, "or you will be stripped and put to the oar."
She looked at him with horror.
"That will not violate you, my pretty," said the Forkbeard.
In this punishment, the girl, clothed or unclothed, is bound tightly on an oar, hands behind her, her head down, toward the blade. When the oar lifts from the water she gasps for breath, only in another moment to be submerged again. A recalcitrant girl may be kept on the oar for hours. There is also, however, some danger in this, for sea sleen and the white sharks of the north occasionally attempt to tear such a girl from the oar. When food is low it is not unknown for the men of Torvaldsland to use a bond-maid, if one is available on the ship, for bait in such a manner. The least pleasing girl is always used. This practice, of course, encourages bond-maids to vie vigorously to please their masters. An Ahn on the oar is usually more than sufficient to make the coldest and proudest of females an obedient, eager-to-please bond-maid. It is regarded as second only to the five-lash Gorean slave whip, used also in the south, and what among the men of Torvaldsland is called the whip of the furs, in which the master, with his body, incontrovertibly teaches the girl her slavery.

Marauders of Gor pg 66

Hurled to the thralls

"Sometimes," said he, "to discipline a bond-maid, she is hurled naked among the thralls." He smiled.

Marauders of Gor, pg 89

Sent to the ice shed

"Ottar, Gorm," said the Forkbeard. "Take her to the ice shed. Leave her there, bound hand and foot.".
The bond-maids shrieked with pleasure. Men pounded their left shoulders with the palms of their right hands. Some pounded their plates on the heavy boards of the wooden tables.

Marauders of Gor, pg 131

Late and fully were we feasting when the thrall-boy, tugging on the sleeve of Ivar Forkbeard, said to him, "My Jarl, the wench in the ice shed begs to be freed."
"How long has she begged?" asked the Forkbeard.
"For more than two Ahn," said the boy, grinning. He was male..
"Good boy," said the Forkbeard, and tore him a piece of meat..
"Thank you, my Jarl," said the boy. The boy, unlike the adult male thralls, was not chained at night in the bosk shed. Ivar was fond of him. He slept, chained, in the kitchen..
"Red Hair, Gorm," said the Forkbeard. "Before she is freed, see that her thirst is assuaged.".
"Yes, Captain," said Gorm..
We carried a torch to the ice shed. We opened the heavy door, lined with leather, and lifted the torch, closing the door behind us..
In the light of the torch we saw Hilda. We approached more closely..
She lay on her side, in misery, across great blocks of ice; she could lift her head and shoulders no more than six inches from the ice; she could draw her ankles toward her body no more than six inches; small chips of wood, in which the ice is packed, clung about her body; she was bound, hand and foot, her wrists behind her, her ankles crossed and tied. Two ropes prohibited her from struggling to either a sitting or kneeling position, one running from her right ankle across the ice to a ring in the side of the shed, the other running from her throat across the ice to a similar ring on the other side of the shed..
"Please," she wept..
Her teeth chattered; her lips were blue..
She lay before us, on her back..
"Please," she wept piteously. "I beg to be permitted to run to the furs of Ivar Forkbeard.".
We looked down on her. "I beg!" she cried. "I beg to be permitted to run to his furs!".
Gorm unbound the rope from her ankles, that which had held her legs straight, and that on her throat, which had prevented her from lifting her shoulders and head..
He did not unbind her wrists and ankles. He lifted her to a sitting position. She trembled with cold, whimpering. "I have brought you a drink," he said. .
"Drink it eagerly, Hilda the Haughty.".
"Yes, yes!" she whispered, her teeth chattering..
Then, holding her head back, and lifting the cup to her mouth, he gave her of the drink he had brought with him..
And eagerly, whimpering, shuddering with cold, did Hilda the Haughty drink down the slave wine..
Gorm unbound her and threw her over his shoulder; so stiff and trembling with cold, and stiff from the ropes, was she that she could not stand..
I put my hand on her body; it was like ice. She was whimpering with cold, her head hanging down, over Gorm's back; her long hair fell to the back of his knees..
I lit the way with the torch, and we took her to the hall of the Forkbeard..
We carried her through the darkness and smoke of the hall, between the posts..
The Forkbeard was sitting on the end of his couch, his boots on the floor..
Gorm threw her, on her knees, at the feet of the Forkbeard. Her head was down; her hair was over his boots. She trembled with cold..
Men and bond-maids gathered about..
The left side of her body was illuminated dully, redly, from the coals of the fire pit. The right side of her body was in darkness..
"Who are you?" demanded the Forkbeard..
"Hilda," she wept, "daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar.".
"Hilda the Haughty?" he asked..
"Yes," she wept, head down, "Hilda the Haughty.".
"What do you want?" he asked..
"To share your furs," she wept..
"Are you not a free woman?" he asked..
"I beg to share your furs, Ivar Forkbeard," she wept..
He rose to his feet and shoved back a long table, and a bench, on the other side of the fire pit. With his heel he drew in the dirt floor a bond-maid circle..
She looked at him..
Then he gestured that she might enter his couch. Gratefully, she crawled upon the couch, his section of that fur-covered, dirt sleeping level, and, trembling, shuddering with cold, drawing her body up, drew the furs about her. She lay huddled in the furs. Her body shook beneath them. We heard her moan..
"Mead!" called Ivar Forkbeard, returning to the table. Pudding was the first to reach him, with a horn of mead..
"Please come to my side, Ivar Forkbeard!" wept Hilda. "I freeze! Hold me! Please hold me!".
"Let that be a lesson in passion to you other bond-maids," laughed Ottar..
There was much laughter, and most from the beautiful, nude slaves of the men of Torvaldsland, hot, collared, and eager in their brawny arms.

Marauders of Gor, pg 131-133

Sent to the whipping post

We stopped by the churning shed, where Olga, sweating, had finished making a keg of butter. We dipped our fingers into the keg. It was quite good.
"Take it to the kitchen," said the Forkbeard. "Yes, my Jarl," she said. "Hurry, lazy girl," said he. "Yes, my Jarl," she said, seizing the rope handle of the keg and, leaning to the right to balance it, hurried from the churning shed. Earlier, before he had begun his tour of inspection, Pudding had come to him, and knelt before him, holding a plate of Sa-Tarna loaves. The daughter of Gurt, the Administrator of Kassau, was being taught to bake. She watched fearfully as the Forkbeard bit into one. "It needs more salt," he had said to her. She shuddered. "Do you think you are a bond-maid of the south?" he asked. "No, my Jarl," she had said. "Do you think it is enough for you to be pleasant in the furs?" he asked. "Oh, no, my Jarl!" she cried. "Bond-maids of the north must know how to do useful things," he told her. "Yes, my Jarl," she cried. "Take these," said he, "to the stink pens and, with them, swill the tarsks!" "Yes, my Jarl," she wept, leaping to her feet, and fleeing away. "Bond-maid!" called he. She stopped, and turned. "Do you wish to go to the whipping post?" he asked. This is a stout post, outside the hall, of peeled wood, with an iron ring near the top, to which the wrists of a bond-maid, crossed, are lashed over her head. Near the bosk shed there is a similar post, with a higher ring, used for thralls. "No, my Jarl!" she said, and fled away. "It is not bad bread," said Ivar Forkbeard to me, when she had disappeared from sight. He broke me a piece. We finished it. It was really quite good, but, as the Forkbeard had said, it could have used a dash more salt. When we left the side of the hall we had stopped, briefly, to watch Gunnhild and Pouting Lips at the standing looms. They worked well, and stood beautifully, under the eyes of the Forkbeard.

Marauders of Gor, pgs 102-103

Then he said to the bond-maids. "Take her to the whipping post."
The bond-maids, laughing, dragged Hilda to the post, stout, of peeled wood, which stood outside the hall. Ottar then, with a scrap of binding fiber, crossed and rudely bound before her body, the wrists of the daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar; he then, reaching up, fastened her wrists to the heavy iron ring over her head. Her breasts were against the post; she could not place her heels on the ground.
"How dare you place me in this position, Ivar Forkbeard!" she demanded. "I am a free woman!"
"Bring the five-strap slave slash," said Ivar Forkbeard to Gunnhild.
"Yes, my Jarl," she said, smiling. She ran to fetch it.
"I am the daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar," said Hilda. "Release me immediately!"
The lash was placed by Gunnhild in the hand of Ivar Forkbeard.
Ottar threw the girl's hair forward, so that it fell before her shoulders.
"No!" cried Hilda.
The Forkbeard touched her back with the whip; his fist held the handle and, too, beneath his fist, folded back, were the five straps. He tapped her twice..
"No!" she cried. "Please, no!".
We fell back to give the Forkbeard room, and he shook loose the straps and drew back his arm..
The first stroke threw her against the post; I saw the astonishment in her eyes, then the pain; the daughter of Thorgard seemed stunned; then she howled in misery; it was only then that she realized what the whip might do to a girl. "I will obey you!" she screamed. "I will obey you!" Ivar Forkbeard, experienced in the disciplining of women, did not deliver the second stroke for a full Ehn. In this time, she screamed, over and over, "I will obey you!" Then he struck again. Her body, again, was struck against the post; her hands twisted in the binding fiber; her entire body rubbed on the post, in agony, pressing against it; tears burst from her eyes; she was on her tiptoes, pressing against the post; her thighs were on either side of the post; but the post did not yield; she was fastened to it. Then he struck again. She writhed, twisting and howling. "I ask only to obey you!" she cried. "I beg to obey you!" When he next struck she could only close her eyes in pain. She could then scarcely breathe. She gasped. No longer could she howl or scream. She tensed, teeth gritted, her body itself a silent scream of agony. But the blow did not then fall. Was the beating done? Then she was struck again. The last five blows were delivered with her hanging in the binding fiber, her body against the post, her face to one side of it. She was then released from the post and fell to her hands and knees. The beating had been quite light, only twenty strokes. Yet I did not think it would be soon that the daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar would wish to find herself again at the post. The beating had been, though light, quite adequate to its purpose, which was to teach her, a captive, the whip..
No female forgets it..

Marauders of Gor, pgs 126-128

Threatened with being fed to the parsit fish

Ottar leaped up, laughing, and raised his ax against the delighted girls.
They fled back from him, squealing and laughing.
"Olga," he said, "there is butter to be churning in the churning shed."
"Yes, my Jarl," said she, holding her skirt up, running from the place of our exercise.
"Gunnhild, Pouting Lips," said he, "to the looms."
"Yes, Jarl," said they, turning, and hurrying toward the hall. Their looms lay against its west wall.
"You, little wench," said Ottar to Thyri.
She stepped back. "Yes, Jarl," she said.
"You," he said, "gather verr dung in your kirtle and carry it to the sul patch!"
"Yes, Jarl," she laughed, and turned away. I watched her, as she ran, barefoot, to do his bidding. She was exquisite.
"You other lazy girls," cried Ottar, addressing the remaining bond-maids, "is it your wish to be cut into strips and fed to parsit fish?"
"No, my Jarl!" they cried.
"To your labors!" cried he.
Shrieking they turned about and fled away.

Marauders of Gor, pg 101

Whip of the furs

It is regarded as second only to the five-lash Gorean slave whip, used also in the south, and what among the men of Torvaldsland is called the whip of the furs, in which the master, with his body, incontrovertibly teaches the girl her slavery.

Marauders of Gor pg 66

"Am I to be punished, my Jarl?" she asked.
"Yes," I told her.
Fear entered her eyes. How beautiful she was.
"But with the whip of the furs," I laughed.
"I look forward eagerly, my Jarl," laughed she, "to my punishment.
"Run," said I.
She turned and ran toward the hall, but, after a few steps turned, and faced me. "I await your discipline, my Jarl," she cried, and then turned again, and fled, that fine young lady of Kassau, barefoot and collared, now only a bond-maid, to the hall, to the furs, to await her discipline.

Marauders of Gor, pg 106

"Is it only a bond-maid, my Jarl," asked Thyri, "who can know these pleasures?".
"It is said," I said, "that only a bond-maid can know them.".
She lay on her back, her head turned toward me. I lay at her side, on one elbow. Her left knee was drawn up; about her left ankle, locked, was a black-iron fetter, with its chain. On her throat was the collar of iron..
"Then, my Jarl," said she, "I am happy that I am a bondmaid."

Marauders of Gor, pg 106