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Slave WineHere are relevant references from the Books where Slave Wine is mentioned. For your convenience, here is a link to the 'Wine of the Noble Free Woman'. I make no pronouncements on these matters, but report them as I find them. Arrive at your own conclusions. I wish you well, Fogaban "The two females," I told him, "have recently been free. Accordingly, as soon as they have been collared, force them to drink slave wine." "Yes, Captain," grinned Tab. Slave wine is bitter, intentionally so. Its effect lasts for more than a Gorean month. I did not wish the females to conceive. A female slave is taken off slave wine only when it is her master's intention to breed her. Gorm then stood beside Ivar Forkbeard. He carried, on a strap over his shoulder, a tall, dark vessel, filled with liquid. The men on the shore laughed. Attached to the vessel, by a light chain, was a golden cup. It had two handles. From a spout on the vessel, grinning, Gorm filled the golden cup. The liquid swirling in the cup was black. Drink," said Ivar Forkbeard, thrusting the cup into the hands of the slender, blond girl, she who had, so long ago, in the temple of Kassau, worn the snood of scarlet yarn, with twisted golden wire, the red vest and skirt, the white blouse. She held the cup. It was decorated; about its sides, cunningly wrought, was a design, bond-maids, chained. A chain design also decorated the rim, and, at five places on the cup, was the image of a slave whip, five-strapped. She looked at the black liquid. "Drink," said the Forkbeard. She lifted it to her lips, and tasted it. She closed her eyes, and twisted her face. "It is too bitter," she wept. She felt the knife of the Forkbeard at her belly. "Drink," said he. "We make them chew carefully and watch closely to see that they swallow, bit by bit, in small swallows, sip roots, as well," said another. "We then examine their mouths, forcing them widely open, to determine that they have finished their entire allotment of the root," said another. I nodded. Sip roots are extremely bitter. Slave wine, incidentally, is made from sip roots. "Drink this," said Drusus Rencius. What is it?" I asked, startled. It seemed he had produced this almost by magic. It was a soft, leather botalike flask drawn from within his tunic. "Slave wine," he said. "Need I drink that?" I asked, apprehensively. "Unless you have had slave wine," he said, "I have no intention of taking you through the streets clad as you are. Suppose you are raped." I put the flask, which he had opened, to my lips. Its opening was large enough to drink freely from. "It is bitter!" I said, touching my lips to it. "It is the standard concentration, and dosage," he said, "plus a little more, for assurance. Its effect is indefinite, but it is normally renewed annually, primarily for symbolic purposes. I could not believe how bitter it was. I had learned from Susan, whom I had once questioned on the matter, the objective and nature of slave wine. It is prepared from a derivative of sip root. The formula, too, I had learned, at the insistence of masters and slavers, had been improved by the caste of physicians within the last few years. It was now, for most practical purposes, universally effective. Too, as Drusus Rencius had mentioned, its effects, at least for most practical purposes, lasted indefinitely. "Have no fear," said Drusus Rencius. "The abatement of its effects is reliably achieved by the ingestion of a releaser." "Oh," I said. I knew this, of course. Susan had told me. When a female slave is given the releaser she knows that she may soon expect to be hooded, and bred. "Could it not be sweetened?" I asked. "I have chosen that you drink it as it is," he said, "as it is normally drunk." "Have you had your slave wine?" asked Ina. "Yes," I said. This is not really a wine, or an alcoholic beverage. It is called "slave wine," I think, for the amusement of the masters. It is extremely bitter. One draught of the substance is reputed to last until the administration of an appropriate "releaser." In spite of this belief, however, or perhaps in deference to tradition, lingering from earlier times, in which, it seems, less reliable "slave wines" were available, doses of this foul stuff are usually administered to female slaves at regular intervals, usually once or twice a year. Some girls, rather cynical ones, I suspect, speculate that the masters give it to them more often than necessary just because they enjoy watching them down the terrible stuff. This is unlikely, however. There are cheaper and more easily available ingredients for such a mode of discipline than slave wine. "That is what we must drink," I had informed her, noting with satisfaction the expression on her face as she had lifted up the bowl, filled with the foul brew, and had smelled it. "It is not like the delicious beverages quaffed by free women for such purposes, is it?" I asked. "No," she had whispered. "I am told, however," I said, "that the releaser is delicious. When we are given that we know that we are to be bred." This form of mating, as one might suppose, is carefully controlled and takes place under supervision. The slaves selected for breeding are generally unknown to one another, normally hooded and commonly forbidden to speak. In this way it is felt that certain complications may be avoided. She looked down at the foul brew. "You need not drink it," I said to her. "No," she whispered. Then she lifted the bowl to her lips. She put back her head. Then, scarcely pausing to take a breath, she drained the bowl. "Oh!" she cried, her entire body shuddering. "That is slave wine," I said, "free woman." I regarded her with some satisfaction. I thought that she might now understand, a little bit better than before, what it might be to be a slave. "How can you drink it?" she asked. "Do you think we are given a choice?" I asked She put the bowl down, unsteadily. "Will it work with a free woman?" she asked. "If she is a female," I said. "Where do you think slave girls come from?" "Have you had your slave wine?" he asked. "Yes," she said. She shuddered. She had been knelt and held, her head forced back, and cruelly held so by the hair, and her mouth forced open, and the spike of the wooden funnel forced between her teeth. Then the wretched, foul stuff was poured into mouth, her nostrils at the same time being pinched tightly shut. When she had to breathe she must imbibe the slave wine. Afterwards her hands were tied behind her, that she might not induce its vulgar emission. "You cannot now conceive," he told her. "If a releaser, as one speaks of it, is later administered, which is a quite sweet, flavorful drink I am told, you will again be able to conceive. Conception in slaves, of course, is closely supervised. They are crossed, mated, and bred only as, and precisely as, masters desire." I glanced at her legs, and then I asked her, "Have you had slave wine?" "What is slave wine?" she asked. "It prevents conception," I said. "Slaves are not to breed randomly. Their crossings are to be decided by masters." I was then permitted to rise, and run to the cell. I hurried to the wastes pail and put my head over it, sick, but I could not disgorge the liquid. I wanted to put my finger down my throat, to gag it out, but my hands were tied behind me. Paula was already in the cell, her hands, too, tied behind her. "Do not struggle, dear Phyllis," she said. "Be patient, be grateful. It is for your own good." "They torture us!" I wept. "No," she said. "They control us. They are our masters." "Torture!" I wept. "No," she said, "it is slave wine." "What is slave wine?" I asked, tears in my eyes. "The masters spoke of it," she said. "It is brewed from sip root. It prevents conception. Be pleased you are not a white kajira owned by the red savages of the Barrens, who do not care for white men or white women. There you must chew and swallow the root, raw." "Too," continued the auctioneer, "this lovely toy, which for a few tarsk-bits could be your possession, has been administered, as is our practice, slave wine. Accordingly, she will not conceive unless administered a releaser, that in case you wish to hood her and cross her with a male slave in the breeding stalls." I shuddered, remembering the slave wine. My hands had been tied behind me, and I had been knelt down, my head held far back by the hair. My nostrils had been pinched shut and my mouth forced open, and the spout of a metal container was thrust in my mouth, and the foul brew, like a hideous, polluted lake, flooded my oral cavity. I could not believe the horror of this. I could not close my mouth for the spout between my teeth. I tried to shake my head negatively. My eyes begged mercy. I would be shown none. I tried not to breathe. The spout was removed from my mouth. I looked up at him. I struggled not to breathe. He smiled. Then I must breathe! But I could not breathe until I swallowed the dreadful concoction. "Good Kajira," said the man, soothingly. "Every bit of it now, do not lose a drop." I then gasped for breath. "Good, pretty beast," he said. I was thrust to the side, and fell on my left shoulder. "Next," said the man. My hands were left tied behind me for a time so I could not disgorge the noxious fluid. I am told the releaser is delicious. Our breeding, like other aspects of our being, as we are slaves, is at the discretion of our masters. "Do not make us drink," said Melete. "It would be easy enough to do so," I said. "One binds the woman, kneels her down, holds her head back, pours the liquid into her mouth, and pinches her nostrils shut. Then, when she must breathe, the liquid goes down her throat." Lais shuddered. Doubtless slave wine, which prevents conception, had been administered to her in such a way. The breeding of slaves, of course, as with other animals, is at the discretion of their owners. "Sakim," said I, "inquire of our stores, and of those of the Dorna, what quantities of sip root we have on board." Sip root is the active ingredient of slave wine. It is ground, and added to a brew of scarlet meal and water. It is used to control conception in female slaves for, obviously, the reproductivity of the female slave, as that of many other forms of domestic animals, is subject to the discretion of the owner. I am told the taste is horrid. Commonly the female, always a slave or a woman soon to be enslaved, is knelt naked, with her hands braceleted or tied behind her. Her head is then held back and her nostrils are pinched shut. The brew is poured into her mouth, filling it. After a time she must breathe, and, to do so, she has no choice but to swallow the brew. It is felt that two things are hereby accomplished. First, conception is blocked, until a master might decide otherwise, and the woman is well reminded, so treated, that she is, or will soon be, a slave. The effects of slave wine may be removed by a drink spoken of as a Releaser, which is aromatic and delicious. When a slave is knelt and ordered to imbibe that drink, she realizes, perhaps to her misery, that her Master has decided that she will be bred. It is common for Gorean war ships to have sip root or prepared slave wine amongst their stores. Captured women are commonly enslaved. Gorean men tend to prefer the woman in a collar at their feet to a ransom. "To conclude our story, the freed slave eventually returned to the throne of her city, once more to wear the medallion of the Tatrix. It seems, however, that the slaver, one of ill repute, a man named Targo, had either omitted administering slave wine to the slave, perhaps so soon after her marking, or, more likely, had utilized an inferior or ineffective potion. After a due interval, the Tatrix gave birth to a baby boy. The Assassin, by means of confederates, was apprised of these matters and arranged for the theft of the child. Patience, as mentioned, is an attribute of his caste. He arranged that the infant, represented as a foundling, be placed in a professional dueling house, to be raised in, and eventually employed by, that community." "Slave wine seldom fails," I said. "If administered, and potent," said Pa-Kur. "What of slave wine?" asked Seremides. "She was owned by Rask of Treve," I said. "That was long ago," said Seremides. "She may have imbibed a releaser since then." "It was also administered to her in her cell in Ar," I said, "after she was delivered to the justice of Marlenus, poured down her throat, she kneeling, her head back, her hands tied behind her, her nostrils pinched shut." "Administered to her as to a slave," said Seremides. "Yes," I said. "Good," said Seremides, "as she was, and is, a slave, under the couching laws of Marlenus." "I, however," I said, "saw fit to include it again, in her initial few days of slave training." "Excellent," said Seremides. "I had her drink it herself," I said, "slowly, kneeling before me, naked, under no duress other than my will." Presumably, Lara of Tharna, before I had purchased her, would have been forced to imbibe slave wine, which should have prevented conception. It seemed unlikely that the dosage would have been ineffective or omitted. I was also forced to imbibe a hideous brew. Its purpose, I was told, was to prevent conception. The breeding of women such as I, I learned, is supervised and controlled. I suppose that is not unusual in the case of certain animals. When conception is permitted or desired, another drink is administered, called a 'Releaser.' I am told it is delicious. Then a woman such as I is commonly blindfolded, gagged, and sent to the straw of the breeding shed. She is also hooded during labor and birth. In this way she will know neither the sire of the child, who was also blindfolded and gagged, nor the child. I remembered Han-leel kneeling me and binding my wrists behind my body. He had then bent me back, by the hair. I could see the sky. He then forced the spout of a bota between my teeth and filled my oral cavity with some fluid, presumably water, with a taste of larma. Held as I was, I could not expel the fluid. At last I must breathe and must swallow the fluid. I recalled a similar experience early in my bondage when I had been forced to imbibe slave wine, which fluid assures keepers and Masters that a slave will not conceive. The effects of slave wine can be removed by the administration of another fluid, called a 'releaser.' As the Gorean slave is a domestic animal, her breeding is supervised by, and controlled by, keepers and Masters, as is the case with other domestic animals, kaiila, tarsks, and such. |
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