Sarah is Used to Her Fullest
Sarah is Used to Her Fullest News:  This teen girl from the Outlands is now the most accomplished Outlander sex slave.
Sarah is Used to Her Fullest Abstract

This account details more about how the top student accepted into Inisfree's kajirae program is now used to her maximum potential by the Inisfreean King.
Sarah is Used to Her Fullest:

The King was having a bad day. It was more of just a bad morning; another round of dealings with Outlanders during one of his clandestine missions. Regardless, he was steely, fuming inside. He made his way to the First Girl of his kingdom, practically storming into her room and taking her by a fistful of her hair. He gave no reason, for an Ubar; a King, never explains himself. He simply took what belonged to him and walked swiftly back out of that palatial private quarters of hers, ensuring she was stumbling on her tiptoes and probably feeling the need to reach up and hold onto his strong wrist and forearm lest her whole scalp sting with the pain of becoming the bodypart where the leash that was her hair was tugged from. It wasn't that he was taking out any anger on a defenseless innocent; it was that this was how he and she enjoyed stabilizing one another's surging energies both when things were going wrong and when they were going right.

The elites of the Inisfreean realm; those called Master Females, as the word 'Mistress' always somehow put off the Inisfreean people, stood proudly at the position of attention, keeping their backs to the walls of the towering hallway their King was marching, almost dragging, his little slave girl through. They had no emotional reaction to what he was doing, understanding it completely, and, further, not even needing to understand in the first place, for every Inisfreean, and the Master Females especially so, were all extensions of the King himself; perfect female helpers whose minds, supercomputers though they were, were but subsets and slaves to his own.

It occurred to him to smirk as he did this, for he enjoyed taking charge, showing no mercy, disciplining Outlanders, and putting the most attractive of females in their place just for sport, if nothing else. Also, because he knew that this slave girl, like all good girls, would be getting off to what he was now doing to her; his harshness and domination of her would arouse her like nothing else could. He did not smirk, however, for he was still in a quiet, focused rage.

Sarah Conrad, barely 17 Earth years of age, was taken by this man, father of a new species, unrivaled commander of untold trillions across both the Universe and an entirely new dimension his technologies had created, burst into his master bedroom at the pinnacle of his fortress skyscraper of a private estate, finally releasing his grip on most of her head of hair, but only to send her flying a quarter of the way into the room, surely leaving her falling forward and sliding across its smooth tiles floor; a 'smart'-surface which would respond to his every whim; it would remain slick where he wished it, and perfectly textured to grip and support his feet and every movement elsewhere.

He hoped that the little teenage girl from the landmass that was previously known as the United States of America (until his forces had blitzkrieged it into a fading memory and completely changed landmarks and coast lines during their militarized campaign to end human pollution and their casual mass-murdering of all other beings once and for all)... would tremble, shiver, cry, and completely surrender herself to him, fearing what fate might now be in store for her, wracked with grief and confusion at somehow offending the man she was now the heart-slave of (the term kajirae use to mean 'in love with'), and accepting that he might snuff out her life, too, as he had so many billions of her species barely a year before. When beautiful girls were afraid and crying, it aroused him greatly; dacryphilia. When they continued to submit, rather than protest and inquire, on top of being beautiful, afraid, and genuinely crying, even more so. Being the First Girl; the favorite female pleasure slave, Sarah Conrad was especially arousing when she did this, giving her the unique ability, some would say 'goddess superpower', of finally, miraculously, calming the King down, balancing and stabilizing him once again, lest another seven to eight billion lives be snuffed out in his next volcanic eruption of judgment and counter-condemnation.

Lord Himmler, King of Inisfree, was upon her in an instant, his stride unbroken even as he had launched Sarah by his fistful of her hair directly toward the side of his vast bed in that master bedroom he had now taken her to. She was his property, wholly and unquestionably, and she would be reminded of this here and now. A snap of his fingers was all it took for her to know that he expected her to kneel with her knees as far apart as she could force them, her head to the floor and to the side, resting her cheek upon its smooth tiles, in order for him to effortlessly stomp her neck broken if it pleased him, and to extend her arms all the way out past her turned head, crossing them at her wrists, keeping her hands open, palms up, fingers and thumbs together, that he might just as effortlessly slip and tightly tie bindings of any kind down over and around them, furthering her utter submission and usage.

She might sense, with her woman's intuition, of course, that her extreme beauty, exhaustive education by genius Master Females, and willing submission even to his most frightening acts of violence, would guarantee her protection in this kingdom of his called the Inisfreean realm, but he was an expert at driving fear into the hearts of mortals, and especially so with the human ones, and he would not pause nor fluctuate in its surgical application here with her. Sarah would feel dread this day in Inisfree, and would be given no chance to speak, and would be used, and roughly so. She would be raped as if by the most unfeeling of all barbarians, and that was if she very, very lucky, and did everything a good slave girl is supposed to.

The man who had enraged the King to this point today had been slain, and nightmarishly so, for his heinous crimes of many. That didn't matter, though; it was never enough just to slaughter the monsters that still, somehow, roamed in various parts of the realms outside Inisfree, collectively called The Outlands. The Inisfreean King had a photographic memory, and remembered things for a very long time. He was an immortal, after all, and had cultivated and mastered his mind for many decades now, ironically resulting in that being both a blessing and a curse, for he remembered that which he hated and recoiled from just as clearly as he remembered that which he laughed at and adored.

His strong hands, now those of a god, settled upon Sarah's smooth knees, reminding her in the way he touched them that she was to keep trying to spread them farther and farther apart the whole time she was down in this kneeling position he had ordered her into. Next, without any warning, intentionally denying her any time to ready herself for anything he was about to do to her, he fingerblasted her asshole; his middle finger penetrated her asshole all the way to where it met his hand, and he roughly explored this cavity of hers with it, almost punching the innermost meeting of her asscheeks and the back of her pussy's slit with the rest of his knuckles as he did this to her. Keeping it there, and continuing to roughly feel up her anal insides like that, his other hand began to spank her across her ass with resounding, stinging, burning, full-palmed smacks, leaving her ass to quickly redden, and there was no balancing caresses after that; he just continued to spank her.

A thought popped into his mind; how the wrongdoings of the Outlanders always ended up backfiring on them; how they always only ensured he made greater use of his kajirae; his slave girls, both astronomically increasing both his pleasure and their own, but this would not be enough to calm him down. Not at all. The King had been likened to Thor, the God of Thunder, whose lightning-quick anger was as legendary as his strength and the accuracy of his hammer, Mjolnir. This comparison was not made lightly, for those who had made it believed it; they believed this man was an incarnation of that very same god, and so did the King.

Abandoning her reddened ass, he made quick work of binding her forearms so completely that none of her skin between her wrists and elbows showed. He then secured a tiny bag over each of Sarah's hands, so small that it kept them balled into her little fists, and, locking those two tiny bags around her wrists, put a slightly bigger bag around them both, doubly enshrouding and trapping all their digits. She would not be able to grasp anything; not even herself. This would help her to yield; to give up, to give in, and to let anything be done to her, for nothing could be done against it.

Next, the one loop of rope he had left not tied down amongst all the others now keeping the full length of her forearms snug together against themselves, he fed a new line of rope through. Though Sarah had grown exceptionally healthy and strong during her time in Inisfree, what with her acclimation to its energies, dietary changes, exercise styles, and its regular orgies between those who had perfected all sexual arts, her newfound strength would be nothing when matched with that of these ropes; ropes made by Inisfreean technologies to be capable of functioning like Chinese fingertraps... even when applied to the trailer hitches of cargo trucks attempting to drive away from each other.

Tying a simple knot about this loop he had just fed it through (for Sarah would never be able to fiddle with it, and, being a good slave girl, would surely not even think to try --at least until he got to scaring her much more), he then took the other end of the second rope, most of it still coiled and lying on the edge of his vast bed, and tossed it, uncoiling, up over the top horizontal bar of one of the stand-alone frames called a 'sex swing' which were kept in this master bedroom of his for the deepest enjoying of all his countless kajirae and Inisfreean girls, as well as a growing host of alien and Earthbound humanoid ones, such as the Asari and Drow.

Little teenaged Sarah, only in her first year of experiences with the Inisfreeans, and already noticed and targeted by their highest royalty, this King, had her upper body yanked upright, back into the erect, proper posture of the Gorean pleasure slave, as her bound wrists and double-bagged fists were hoisted up in his pulling out all the slack of this second rope, readying its remaining length to secure her further still. He made no indication that she was allowed to do anything but stay kneeling, ever straining to open her knees even farther, while he continued in his infinitely purposeful work. She was First Girl, and would forever be expected to be the absolute best, by far, without compare, of any girl who ever sought to arouse and please him. He would exact that from her often, testing it in all ways, and this was the latest of them, those uncompromising tests for the girl who had dared to tell him that, yes, she knew how to fuck.

The dozens of Master Females were now quietly marching all the other kajirae in this hangar of a bedchamber of his out, then closing its tall, heavy doors, leaving Sarah alone with their enraged King. Their faces had all been serene; those of the Master Females; the daughters of Inisfree, anyway. The kajirae, on the other hand; all teenage girls plucked from the Outlands as it was being aggressively cleaned up and purged of those who had wrecked it, looked worried, though they did, of course, do their utmost to maintain their discipline and hide that worry. To look over, they all now knew and knew well, without the permission from their King via his Inisfreean daughters, was practically suicide. They would be the perfect examples of sexiness and loyalty, or they wouldn't be at all. The endless wrongs committed by their ancestors, as well as themselves, had set the bar sky high for every last one of them, and it would never lower, and there was no option. They had perfected themselves to survive judgment, and would remain so lest that judgment return --amplified.

Sarah Conrad now knelt between the black metal legs of the poles which were tilted together into the overhead bars of the frame of the sex swing she was now bound to, her forearms snug together, her little fists double-bagged high over her head, and her arms raised and stretched such that all her back, chest, and sides were fully exposed. With the exception of those narrow, black poles, anyone could strike her in any way from any angle. It wouldn't take an expert with the whip to lash her most thoroughly, and in any way he pleased, and every Inisfreean *was* an expert with the whip. The King now showed Sarah his.

Whips were quite similar wherever one was found, with the variations tending only to have a different number of tails, and different types of heads fastened into those tails, such as to leave a variety of marks or wounds upon those being whipped by them; some whips were designed to lightly sting and arouse, some to maim by tearing off entire strips of flesh in one encircling grip and tug, and there were masters out there who knew exactly how quickly --or slowly-- to make those tugs once contact was achieved, that the victim experience exactly the amount of pain and flesh loss those masters desired of them. The King set one of these whips, still coiled, down around Sarah's head, letting it rest around her neck; for her to think about, in terror. It was a Roman 'Cat of Nine Tails'; it was one whip which split into nine near its business end, each tip having a metal claw built masterfully into it, that they never be yanked out, and that every whip would leave nine horrifying, long gashes down the victim's body, wherever its master had deemed to make it fall. The King would never in all his years harm his First Girl in such a way as that, but he wanted her to shiver and sob in fear and anticipation of the worst, and returned her wide eyed stares indifferently, void of any human emotion she might have been desperately searching him for.

Leaving the Cat of Nine Tails draped around her bare collar, he went back to work with the second rope, having looped it two times around the top horizontal bar of the sex swing, the majority of its length now hanging down along Sarah's spine and asscrack. Looping the middle of this length first around her left ankle, and making three loops about that ankle, he then hoisted her left leg up behind her, tying its ankle snug against one of the black metal legs of the sex swing, leaving her off balance and in a steep lean forward, now dangling from her suspended forearms. Repeating this process, he thrice looped the end of this second rope around her right ankle, hoisting it up the same way, and tied it snug against the black metal pole that was the sex swing's other back leg. Sarah's arms would now keep her head in front of them, making it impossible for her to look back behind her at whatever was about to happen, and her widely opened legs, tied with their ankles as far apart as they could stretch, were now nearly at her waist's level, keeping her belly stretched taut and exposed, curving down toward the smooth tile floor.

With the Cat of Nine Tails left hanging around her neck, its nine metal claws occasionally tapping against her equally exposed breasts, leaving chilly kisses of their contact against her nipples, the King rammed one of his middle fingers into her asshole again, ignoring her pussy to frustrate her as much as possible. He worked her asshole expertly, leaving it sore, almost numb, and fully felt in every direction, then took his middle finger out of it and spat a large wad of his saliva out against her wide-open apex, peppering her entire crotch, asshole to pussy, and much of her upper, inner thighs, with his spit. Then there was silence...

He had left her tied up there like that for a full minute, the cavernous master bedroom they were in having been left void of any other soul, save their two own. She was suspended three feet off the tile floor by expert rope loops and knots to an unshakable, black metal framework. And now, it seemed for a long minute, she had been abandoned... with that foreboding, special torture whip left draped around her most critical artery and vein of her throat. No sounds would enter this bedchamber of the King's, for it was, like so many of the constructs in Inisfree, completely soundproofed when its doors and windows were sealed, which, of course, they now were. No one would hear her scream, and scream she would; he would break her to that end. He would use it to help calm him down, and bring him to powerful, flowing orgasms.

Returning, he allowed her to hear his footfalls, though he controlled them in such a way, and remained behind the blind spots of her peripheral vision, such that she would not be able to tell if it was him. He held something in his hands now; something he had fetched from elsewhere in this master suite of his, probably, she might infer, from his massive, walk-in closet. As his First Girl, she would have learned by now, in her many hundreds of times being used to satisfy his eternal sexual appetite, that, among many fine garments he kept in there, that that closet of his also contained a number of ingenious sex toys perhaps totaling in the thousands. He now graspt one of them, but which?

A vicious little smack would echo out through her entire being from where the flat, firm, plastic surface of a fly swatter had just met the entire surface of her apex's flesh, wetted by his burst of spit upon it all, ensuring that that wetness would greatly increase the sound of the smack and pain; the King had just, with all the strength of a man and an aroused god, accelerated that killing device to spank her pussy and asshole both at the same time, and had left it sitting there for a few seconds so that, after the sting and shock had echoed through her a few times, she would notice still feeling it being held there; left in place, foreboding, like the lethal whip had been left to hang around her neck, teasing her nipples as it swung from her neck, lightly tapping at her breasts all around them with its silvery little claws. Her attention would be brutally yanked back and forth from whatever its purpose was... to whatever he was preparing to do --and doing-- behind her... where she, in perfect accordance with his bondage plan, could never see.

Again, he spanked her pussy and asshole, all at once, with the full surface of that fly swatter of his. He knew how to wield it, and strike her with it, such that it always shocked and stung her as much as it ever could. Randomly, he began ramming one of his middle fingers up into her asshole between swats from it, always picking a different interval of time to strike or penetrate her, never allowing her mind to establish any pattern. He stayed out of her field of view, too, and kept his own on the polished tile directly below her face, watching it for the first little splatters of her falling tears. Though he would not tell her this, he would continue using and abusing her until that tile was a pool of her tears. The other tiles below her would be pools of her sweat and cum, as well as that of his... and all the others he was going to have roughly, brutally, unabashedly utilize her.

The fly swatter met her crotch's flesh again and again, leaving her the outer curves of her pussy, as well as her asshole, as red as his spanking hand had left her asscheeks, its palmprint still a swelling in overlapping pink silhouettes upon it. Faking her out, he made as if to swat at her crotch again, letting her feel the wafted air passing over these areas of her bare flesh which were now, arush with her blood, supersenstive, paying attention to everything. Instead, he brought the fly swatter back, and began to work its stinging magic upon her inner thighs, doing so with ease, her legs having been left tightly bound to opposing poles of her sex swing, wider apart, perhaps, than even when she had been kneeling as a proper, fully-trained pleasure slave.

The King left his top slave girl's inner thighs as red, sore, and resonating with stings as her pussy, asscrack, and asscheeks now were. Again, as before, he denied them any pleasure of balancing caresses, breaths, licks, or kisses. He left her there to suffer, knowing that when, at long last, if ever he deigned it, her orgasm was allowed to happen, it would be a violent and thrashing one, leaving her in fits, her little hands, kept in balled fists by the small bags which hugged and trapped them, so tightly clenched that her knuckles would be white, and all the muscles from them up into her shoulders sore from overuse until morning.

The fly swatter was tossed to the first tiles she would be able to see in the bottom of her field of view, landing with a similar smacking noise, to make her instinctively flinch, from her perspective, between the inside curves of her breasts. He had discarded it. What was he going to do to her now? There was no time to think or imagine, though he would later, throughout this day and night of using her to her fullest, ensure she had more than enough time to suffer a racing mind coming up with all the worst scenarios. This time, however, both of his palms, fingers and thumbs together for maximum striking surface, came down hard and fast upon both of her asscheeks all at once, spanking her across her entire ass in one fell swoop, and leaving the resounding explosion of noise almost echoing back to them from across the gigantic room of his.

An Inisfreean girl entered Sarah's field of vision, walking on the far side of the King's vast bed, and made her way over to where some of the towering curtains had been tied back to keep the starship-like bay window of this master bedroom wide open for all previously in it to enjoy and gawk at the panoramic view of the estate's swimming pools, largest side yard, castle wall, landscaping, and view of the realm's largest lake a mile down from the edge of its nearby cliffs. The girl, whose hair was a vibrant, deep red, her skin a natural, mocha tan, and whose eyes had irises as bright blue as the Antarctic sky beyond that floor-to-ceiling bay window, looked over to Sarah with that special serenity and supreme sexual confidence only her race, the Inisfreeans, had, knowing the reaction it would trigger in the little, teenaged, Outlander girl who was now so helplessly bound and at the mercy of her King before them. She unhooked the tieback of the curtains nearest her, letting gravity pull it away from her, its pleats fanning out as it opened, swaying down and across the tile floor before them all, to mask the heavenly view of so much of their remote realm with the opacity of its layered fabrics. The King willed the window panels themselves to become shaded, blacking them out to let no light in at all, his thoughts being detected and turned into computer commands by some of the nodes built into this room of his; a double measure to be more of a psychological blow to his top slave girl than anything; that she might be denied any hope of even a parting glimpse of the great outdoors, natural light, and the freedom that was the open Inisfreean sky. She was trapped, and was now as blinded to the outside world as her roped and upstretched arms now trapped her head from looking back over her shoulders.

The lone Inisfreean girl, barely five feet tall, as were most Inisfreean-born girls, majestically strode, hips swaying like the sex goddess she'd been engineered, born, and raised to be, across the hundred and fifty feet of floor-space to the opposite side of the King's master bedroom's towering bay window, placing her dark skinned, smooth fingers on the coiled braid of a tieback that was all there was keeping the other half of the curtains from falling away from that wall, closed. She unhooked it, looked again to Sarah, almost taunting her, and let it fall from her hand. The second curtain swooped down and out, soon meeting the vertical edge of the first, and the King's giant bedchamber was now much darker; a sign of things to come.

Leaving Sarah's sight, the Inisfreean girl, nude and proudly striding, as all Inisfreeans do, was now gone again, and Sarah, again, was alone with the man who she, being as much an empath as him, would certainly and so very easily sense was still boiling with rage. Was it at her? Was it at something else? Would she be able to placate him, as before...? She had been so natural at it, even to the point of being approved to be his top pleasure slave; his First Girl. Was that now even possible? Would she be used... to death? Some slave girls were, it was rumored, and for various reasons, and she was, undoubtedly, though he had loved her, a slave girl.

Continuing to deny her the sound of his voice, and any commands other than that one snap of his fingers, that she put herself in one of the most vulnerable and helpless of positions, bending the thorough binding and probing she had just received at his skillful hands, the King proceeded in his rough usage of her little, teenage body. Again, a middle finger pushed its way, all the way, up into her asshole. Again, it roughly explored her there. Again, it was withdrawn, and she was spanked and fly swatter, and again... another long finger forced its way up inside of her asshole. Moving to her side, and still well out of her field of view, the King hooked one finger into her asshole, and his other middle finger he hooked into her mouth, giving both her pelvis and head a jolting shake. The finger he had opened her lips with, pressing against the inside of her nearest cheek, was now all four of the fingers of that hand, his thumb under her jaw, his grip using her jaw to frighteningly keep her head exactly as he wanted it, his other hand's middle finger now digging into her asshole more powerfully than ever before. The black metal sex swing did not budge in the least; it seemed anchored down to the tile floor, perhaps even fused with it. Its fittings were continuous welds, and it would not sway, nor make the faintest of sounds.

Sarah's nipples belly was smacked, open palmed, giving her the sensation of doing a swan dive down to smack the surface of a body of water; someone else had been in the room with them! Was it an Inisfreean? Was it even humanoid at all? She could not see. They, too, were purposefully denying her any chance to catch a glimpse of them. Whatever it was seemed to have small, delicate, smooth fingertips, likely indicating it was an Inisfreean-born girl, and, given her presence in this most exclusive of all rooms in the Inisfreean realm, one of the Master Females; the most skilled of all Inisfreean sex goddesses. The King let his hooked finger slide back out of Sarah's asshole, moving to stand, at last, where she could see him; all of him; right in front of her. He released his hold of the inside of her jaw, letting her move her head now as she pleased --as much as she could, that is, while she hung from her tightly bound arms coming together above it, leaving her shoulders to block its full range of motions to either side.

Her mouth was hers again, and she might request to speak... if she dared. The way he looked down at her, though, his eyes were dark as pitch, and his aura was wild and intimidating, almost radiating like a star readying to explode into supernova. Reaching forward with both hands, he let her see where he was going with them. His thumbs and forefingers came together, closing firmly around her nipples, and he gave them a painful squeeze with a quarter-turn twist; just enough to pinch them to their max, not tearing them. He hoped she would scream out, at which point he would slap her hard across her face for it, and then across both nipples, effectively spanking her tits.

What Sarah could only assume was a girl beneath her, in that three feet of space between her belly and the bedroom's tile floor, continued what she had started; whoever --or whatever-- it was down there, where her body was weakest, and her organs most vulnerable, was raking its fingertips up and down the most sensitive spots and erogenous of zones of her whole abdominal area, all the way down to where it electrified Sarah's whole pussy, but always stopping just short of pleasing her, intentionally, surgically, leaving her in sexually frustrated fits and involuntary squirming, her whole body begging for more; for sweet, long overdue, mercilessly denied release.

Her pussy was being ignored. Her clit was being ignored. No one was suckling on her tits or her neck. No one was licking up her throat. No one was kissing the tips of her fingers or toes, or suckling on them, either. She had received no kisses, nor any hugs. Yet, somehow, she was being brought near the point of orgasmic madness, a frenzy of sensations, all overwhelming, and all of them, together, in chorus and symphony, spiraling her mind and body out of control.

The thing still in hiding beneath her, with its girly fingertips, poked at the dead center of her bellybutton, knowing this to be a pressure point. The King, meanwhile, gave Sarah's nipples another pinch and quarter turn, then took a few dozen steps back, distancing himself directly in front of her, and picked up another coiled whip from one of the loveseats his bedroom had been furnished with. He uncoiled the whip right where Sarah could see it this time. His eyes were hard. The person, or creature, beneath Sarah's belly again poked a fingertip up against Sarah's bellybutton. The King let fly the whip, launching it up into the air over his head, and back behind him, and cracking it in the low lighting back there as his muscle-rippled arm brought the handle forward and down, pulling out all that whip's slack and launching its leather tip forward, and right at Sarah's face. It snapped and popped in the few inches of air right in front of and between her eyes, sounding like the crack of thunder from direct lightning; the King had known its exact dimensions, having taken the perfect number of steps back to create such a terrifying, close-call effect. He knew his weapons --and sex toys-- well. He was, as Sarah always addressed him, Master, indeed.

Taking up different positions around Sarah's sex swing, he began to whip her exposed ribs, then her ass, then the insides of her legs, then the sides of her tits, and finally... even the soles of her upturned feet; bastinados, those whippings were called. With each jolt and jerk of her body, the little metal claws of the Cat of Nine Tails still coiled and draped around her neck, bouncing off her tits, teasing cold kisses at her pinched and quarter-twisted nipples, never ceasing in their ominous, pestering, distracting work. The same was true of whatever it was that still crouched beneath Sarah, poking up into her bellybutton no matter how the poor, suspended, hanging, Outlander girl might recoil, sob, or beg. Clearly, a lot was expected of their top kajira. The First Girl would give a first class performance, and on the fly, no matter what. The top slave girl would take the most punishment, as that was part of what made her the greatest pleasure. Sarah would know this, better than ever, by the end of this night.

Torches on sconces high up on the King's bedchamber's tapestry, banner, and gold-framed paintings adorned walls became a bit brighter, adding to the lighting which had, upon the close of the curtains and the darkening of their window panes, only been slight and indirect; just enough for Sarah to see the King standing before her, and his latest whip flying through the air to stop within a hair's breadth of striking her face. Now the bedchamber was barbaric, its many pieces of furniture casting shadows across the room which danced with the flickering, quietly popping flames. Whatever it was beneath Sarah... had continued to deny her any sight of it, and the King was still taking his time picking out his favorite succession of positions, casting lashes across all of Sarah's flesh, sometimes light, sometimes almost vicious. Her body was now a crisscross of pink marks, the swelling of her pussy and asscheeks from his spankings and fly swattings now having died down just a bit.

One of the sets of tall double doors, connecting one side of the King's bedchamber to one of the even taller hallways of this top floor of his mansion, swung open. Though almost silent, the light breeze they briefly generated flowed over Sarah's entire, heavily whip-pinkened body, chilling her in that moment as a procession of dozens upon dozens of people filed in. Their footfalls were also quiet on the smooth tiles of this bedchamber she remained bound, hanging from the sex swing, in, but the light swishing of the fabrics of their clothing let her hear where they were moving to; fanning out in a large semi-circle behind her.

The King was out of her sight again, perhaps wordlessly welcoming the guests (by touch instead; the traditional Inisfreean way) who now all had a perfect, unobstructed view of her crotch between her wide open legs, her ankles still being helplessly rope-bound to the back two legs of the black metal sex swing. When he stepped back into her field of view, he had the fly swatter again, and he struck her back and forth across her face with it, leaving her cheeks pink before he stopped, and stopping only then to receive a large stein full to the brim with half milky, mostly clear cum, which he held just an inch down and away from her nostrils, letting her take in its smell, which was a primally arousing scent to every woman above the age of the onset of puberty.

Someone just barely out of Sarah's view placed a clear hose of plastic into Sarah's mouth. She might recognize it as a beer bong, though she had learned during her months of kajirae candidate training in the underground Receiving Facility, that alcohol was banned in this realm. The hose was curved up from the side of her face; its funnel just above Sarah's field of view. Sarah then felt what was, perhaps, an identical hose inserted a couple inches into her asshole. The King handed the stein full to the brim with cum, which he had been holding right under Sarah's nostrils, off to whoever was standing to her side, and was handed a second, different stein --just as full of cum. One stein, Sarah, sharp girl that she was, would quickly realize was being moved into position to be poured into the funnel of the beer bong inserted into her asshole. Would she finally be allowed some measure of sexual pleasure?

The King let her get a brief whiff of the heavenly aroma of the second mugfull of cum, then raised it up out of her field of view, paused for a moment, watching to see if her eyes would dart to the clear hose now fed into her mouth; he wanted to see her go wide eyed at the thought of the impending flow of a half pitcher's worth of sperm being poured down onto the middle of her tongue. But now cum appeared flooding down the length of that clear, curving tube...

Someone had begun spanking her again! And while they continued to spank her, someone else had begun whipping her right-side ribs again! And while both of them continued, someone else took to tickling the spaces where her inner thighs hooked onto her crotch! And while those three continued all of that, the girl --or whatever it was beneath her-- resumed poking her bellybutton. Hands were now petting the back of her head. Fingers and thumbs were weaving into the strands of her full mop of hair, closing, sometimes tugging, giving her scalp a good and rough massage. Whip tips continued to fall upon her, clinging to her for a moment or two, stinging and reddening her bare flesh. Perhaps a dozen people, each with different hand sizes and textures, had taken turns spanking her --and feeling up the entire lengths of both of her rope-bound, fully-parted legs. Then she felt a rush of warm, slippery liquid gush into her asshole from the opening of the tube left inserted in it; the cum from the first stein had been poured into the funnel behind and above her, and was now entering her intestines there.

The King's cock was swelling, growing stiff, and flexing in threat of giving rise right before her. She could now see the milky flow of cum racing down the clear tube still held near the side of her face, its funnel still too high for her to make out. The slippery liquid splashed out of the beer bong's hole directly onto her tongue, instantly spreading out and filling the back of her throat, coating the inside of her mouth, even along its roof and down around all her bottom teeth, and was so much that if she didn't chug it all down in big, relaxed gulps, a few cups of it would surely splash out onto the tile floor three or four feet directly beneath her chin. After the whippings and other abuse she had already received, seemingly for no wrongdoing of her own, the even worse abuse that was sure to follow any spilling of any sacred cum granted to her... might be too much for her, even with her extensive, professional, pleasure slave training, to withstand. She would have to seal her lips around the beer bong's hose end, breathe through her nose, let her mouth remain full, and swallow as much as she could between breaths, eventually ushering all of that mix of many people's cum into her stomach; enough to make any kajira incredibly proud --and incredibly lusted for. Her ass now held in it a full pint of cum from the first stein, and someone was inserting a fitted butt plug in it to ensure none could leak out --a butt plug which started with a string of ten anal beads, all now fed inside of her there. Sarah had long desired to be made cum drunk, and this was her greatest chance.

An Inisfreean girl was now down before their King in the kneeling position of the Gorean pleasure slave, sucking him off with brilliant focus, skill, and heart, denying Sarah any taste of even a single drop of her lover's semen. There was no doubt that the Inisfreean girl would earn, and quickly, the full produce of that great man's balls which had grown heavy with cum over the many hours he had been away from his First Girl, unable to put her to use during his latest expedition without her heeling him. Having not emptied his balls into her the previous number of days, it was tough for him not to, but he was furious right now, and wanting to see her hornily upset far more so.

The Inisfreean girl stimulated a dozen massive squirts of his warm seed out, sure as ever, and did so in record time, just as she had been engineered and formally schooled for many years to. She hungrily, eagerly, hornily, blissfully gulped half of them right down, her color-changing eyes rolling up and back into her head as she involuntarily began rubbing her clit and fingering herself, her thighs clearly quaking at the sensations of pleasing her maker like that, and she barely mustered up enough self control to hold the latter half of his loads in her mouth, licking and sucking on her own lips several times to get every last hint of a particle of his cum off of them and into her before turning to face Sarah, looking the teenaged Outlander girl, First Girl, right in her eyes.

They waited until Sarah had finished swallowing all of the sperm poured down through the beer bong for her to do her best with, at which point they slid its end back out of her mouth, and the Inisfreean girl with her mouth half full of the King's cum, then blew it all out, in a spitting motion, to hit Sarah's nose, splashing out over all of her face before it clung to her and slid down her forehead and cheeks, dripping for many seconds down onto the tile beneath her chin. She would not get to swallow any of it, except the few trickles she could flick her tongue out against, lapping but fractions of them up, more to taste and savor than anything. She would have to get used to, at least this night, and for however long this bondage and rough usage lasted, being denied that which she craved.

Other girls, whom Sarah would recognize from the classes which had been in kajirae candidate training with her over the months past, now moved a loveseat up behind the King, seductively caressing him all over his chest and arms and cock, that he might ease back down and sit with them. Eventually, his eyes still dark and scrutinizing his First Girl's every move, he did, and they almost trembled with delight and relief, taking turns sitting beside him, sucking him off further, straddling him, and daring flicks of their tongues against his ear holes and the corners of his lips. His eyes never once left those of his First Girl, hanging from her forearms and ankles in the middle of the sex swing right in front of him and his loveseat full of young girls constantly rotating out so that all in the room had their turn enjoying him for her to see. She would be a bundle of nerves, horny as hell, starving for her turn, before he was through.

As that never-ending line of newly-graduated kajirae made love to their King, the King drank in the sight of every inch and curve of his First Girl as another never-ending line made use of Her. Girls and men alike made rough usage of his First Girl, for she was the best at her craft and trade, and was the life of this latest party of his realm. They groped and whipped and fingerblasted and fucked her, ate her out and pinched and bit her, leaving no part of her body undiscovered, showering her in their cum. Girls were held up by multiple others behind her, and they 'scissored' with her, grinding their pussies and entire crotches against Sarah's, pressing that butt plug as far into her as its circular base would allow, making the pint of cum in her intestines slosh around as much as all she had gulped down to house in her stomach.

Finally, after hours of usage, most had had their turn and fill of their city's First Girl, and she had re-earned her title and status well enough in her King's eyes --something she would have to do very often, as per Inisfreean standards and law. First Girl, whomever that turned out to be, was made use of first, and frequently. She was first pick for all things sexual, for she had demonstrated time and time again that she was first of her graduating class; the pornographic valedictorian.

She would never know how many dozens, perhaps hundreds, had just fucked her. She might have been able to think enough during it all to count the amazing number of girls, all fellow graduates from her kajirae training class, who had just enjoyed fucking the King on the loveseat set up right in front of her. He had used all three holes of at least 100 of them, cumming a little bit in several of them, and pushing the girls off of him for each successive one to mount or re-mount him, yanking some of them back by their wrists or hair when they strayed to far from his peripheral vision, for he expected them to stay in his field of view when they began felching and swapping the cum he had allowed them to feel enter them.

Rising, he casually tossed the few girls clinging to his sides away, and they quickly obeyed, knowing --and loving-- their place in this realm and hierarchy of his, many of them never even dreaming he would one day use *them*. He stood now, cock still stiff and erect, in front of his First Girl. Still hanging from the sex swing at about three feet above his bedroom's tile floor, her mouth was a bit too high for him to fuck while standing, but was still at a good height for his male guests to shoot their loads up into. Many of the girls who had graduated with Sarah now moved a small table into place beneath her, allowing her to rest most of her weight upon its smooth, top surface, though her forearms and ankles remained fastened by rope to the black metal frame around her. Dozens of the male guests got into two lines just barely in Sarah's peripheral vision; enough for her to see that there were a great many of them, and, two at a time, standing side by side in front of her, though always with plenty of room for the King to see down into her eyes between the pairs of men, they jacked off into her mouth, and her King's look said it all; you'd better swallow every drop.

After dozens of men had, in these pairs, done this, a bowl was held beneath her crotch by one of the girls from Sarah's class, and while dozens of mouths and sets of hands continued to make full use of Sarah's entire body, someone began slowly pulling out the butt plug by its circular base, taking their time to drag out the string of ten anal beads from within her asshole, each one bringing out a brief gush of the pint of cum that had been beer bonged into her there. It was all caught beneath her, falling into and filling that bowl, and then, with her crotch still about three feet up off the tile floor, and resting just over the edge of the small table now being used to as her temporary resting surface, everyone began to fuck her pussy and asshole back and forth, many of them cumming in her some more, and many girls licking and slurping a lot of that cum back up out of her, only to spit it back onto her, or fuck it back into her, then lick and slurp it back out yet again. A few girls even took to massaging handfuls of all that cum all over her asscheeks, thighs, and calves, while others licked between and sucked on all of her toes, while still others kissed her ankles and massaged the soles of her feet, sometimes tickling them and the backs of her knees.

The bowl, filled with a sloshing pint of cum, was brought up in front of Sarah's face. The anal beads, still soaked in all the original loads of cum from her asshole, were pushed up into her pussy, then brought around in front of her face, as well. Girls took turns dipping them down into the pint of cum in the bowl, then hand-feeding them to her, instructing her to suck on each one until it was clean of all the many applications of cum. All the while, back behind her and out of sight, untold numbers of people continued to cum in her, suck cum out of her, put it back into her, and suck it out all over again, while also still massaging, with their hands and tongues and tits and dicks, every one of her bodyparts back there, all at once, like a never-ending orgy of touch and orgasming, with her as the prized centerpiece and greatest magnetic attraction of it all.

But now her entire lower body was coated in multiple films of cum, leaving it as wet and exposed as her apex had been when the King had spat upon it and begun fly swatting it, and the large group of guests began spanking, fly swatting, and whipping her all over again, and now it hurt more than everbefore; that wetness which had once felt so orgasmic was now being used against her, and much to everyone else's great and growing enjoyment.

One of the girls from Sarah's class, completely lovingly, poured the entire pint of cum from the bowl in front of her down onto her head, and all the girls around her took to massaging it with their fingertips and thumbs deeply into Sarah's hair, soaking her whole scalp as the rest of it streamed down her face, forcing her to close her eyes and breathe through her mouth. Dozens of girls tried to lick as much of it off her face as they could, but it kept slowly trickling down out of her now cum-soaked hair, which was clinging to her forehead, neck, and shoulders. Some of it streamed all the way down the middle of her neck, cleavage, chest, and belly, dripping down off of her from the curves of her flesh around her bellybutton, and dozens more girls took to licking and kissing it all up, back off of her, from this entire trail, a few of them taking time to lightly bite, pinch, twist, and kiss her nipples as they did so.

​As if a further obstruction to her vision was even necessary at this point, someone blindfolded her. Then, hopefully, the King thought, to her sensation-heightening horror, a set of strong male hands lifted the Cat of Nine Tails up from off her neck, raising its loop around her head, and removing it from her presence entirely. Everyone of the dozens upon dozens of men and girls feeling her up, fucking her, and moving the countless loads of cum in and out of her two lower holes... stopped... and stepped back away.

Everything fell silent, and there was a stillness in the air. Was the Cat of Nine Tails being uncoiled? Was it already flying, skillfully kept quiet, through the air? In a flash, Sarah was lashed, the strike of a whip's fall stinging and stunning her, letting her wonder for a moment if she was about to begin to feel the trickles of blood falling out of her; was she whipped with that Cat of Nine Tails? ...No, it turned out, likely much to her relief, that it was just the cum of those many dozens of men now starting to again drip and trickle out of her, from other parts, instead.

But her torment wasn't over. The King let her hear that reclaimed Cat of Nine Tails being dragged, claws clinking along the tiles of the floor, away from her... back behind her... into the perfect striking distance for anyone bearing such a whip. ...This time, he permitted her plenty of time to think, to imagine, and to dread it being finally used upon her. He, with all his many guests watching with bated breath, let her wonder if her King had truly gone mad, and wonder if she had, somehow, grown complacent, displeasing, and offensive to him... to the point of losing his love... and even to the point of enduring a measure of hate and scorn and punishment from him... equal to, or even greater than, that deep and wholehearted love he, up until this night, had shown her and felt for her. Her mouth remained ungagged, free to moan in anticipation... or ask permission to speak.

Freeing her from her rope bindings, he had several of her classmates help ease and lower her down onto the floor, laying her down in the pool of cum, sweat, and tears which had pooled on the tiles beneath the middle of her sex swing frame. She was permitted to rest, stretch, and rub out her sore spots now, though she would sleep, until she felt fully rested, in this wide puddle of so many different liquids from so many different guests. Also, before she was allowed to sleep, she was informed that she was expected to lick and slurp up as much of it as she could, swallowing all that met her lips, and then rub most of the rest of it all over her body, ensuring no part of her remained dry. It was a remarkably clean floor, so everyone expected her to much enjoy the whole matter.

In the morning, she was further advised, she would have to use her hair to mop the last of it up, then spend the day tending to the general slave chores without cleaning herself off, after which point, at some time that evening, she would be permitted to use her private suite's shower, then bathe in one of Inisfree's ponds. She would be left alone for a week or two to do whatever she liked, then the King would resume calling on her for the same services... and much more. The more she proved herself compatible with his desires, the more he would desire her, and the more ways he would think up to enjoy her in. She was also, having performed so perfectly each time he had sought her out, now permitted to summon other kajirae to her, wherever she was in Inisfree, to arouse and please her just as much, though any contact with males or dildos had to be commanded by Him. Only free women in Inisfree were allowed to fuck such phallic things the moment they pleased. Sarah, First Girl, was more the King's property than anyone else. None of this had been done to degrade her, though; it was simply that the King loved to see her dripping, dirtied, crying sometimes, still dutifully tending to her chores, and fully, fully used. That level of commitment from her really turned him on, and guaranteed for her a special place in his heart.

It had taken nearly a full day and night, but, at last, Sarah Conrad, First Girl, had calmed the King's heart, satisfying him once again. An entire town somewhere in the Outlands would be spared, for now, for tolerating such a filthy bastard as the latest lazy fool who had disgusted him. Instead, it was but that one man who had been slain for his crimes. Though she might never know it, Sarah, still but a teenager, had helped to prevent an extermination raid, giving thousands of other humans a chance to go on with their lives, possibly, someday, even bettering themselves. It took a great and fantastic submissive, especially after such an offense, to balance out such a remarkable and otherworldly dominant as her King, who loved her, and Sarah had, after many months of training under the watchful eye of some of his Inisfreean daughters, the Master Females, become, wonderfully, and thanks to her nature long before being discovered by them, exactly that.

As it is written in the books about the planet Gor, in the words of one of countless beautiful girls enslaved by a real man and taught, by real men, her own nature, "He was totally and utterly masculine, and before him I could be only totally and utterly feminine. I had no choice. My will was helpless." And that was one of the main reasons the King of this realm, Ubar of all Ubars from not merely across one planet, such as Gor, but across the whole Universe and all its Gor-like worlds, had permitted Sarah Conrad to be loved... and to earn her position as his First Girl. She had submitted herself to him just as she was supposed to. She had had only positive reactions to all his nature and ways. She had proven utterly feminine, and this had saved her life, along with the lives of all other girls from the Outlands who, destiny bound, had done the same.

While other females put up resistance, giving him some sport and mild entertainment here and there, they often ended up being shot in the head, at the end of one of his many weapons' barrels, or tossed to various monsters, such as dragons, to be fed alive to them for much greater sport and amusement. Shockingly beautiful, their extreme beauty meant nothing to him, for he cloned their bodies by the dozens in an instant, with no effort or cost at all, and programmed into them even the personalities he had engineered, copying them as easily as an Outlander copies and pastes a few lines of text in a word processor on her computer. Forgotten as easily as one might forget what they had for breakfast a week in the past, the most beautiful of Outlander females, no matter their skills or political connections, were killed and cast aside no differently than one might discard a used ply of toilet paper. Many of them had made the grave mistake of playing coy, or trying to tease him into a chase or a rage, thinking they might eat up his time and energies in their boring Outlander wench games, and he had utterly ended them as utterly as he had instantly loved the beautiful females who had just as utterly submitted to him. Sarah had been amongst those lucky latter, and now she lived like the goddess he regarded her as and upheld her in Inisfree to be... because of that utter submission she had felt the need to choose. Her feminine instincts had saved her, while the warped thoughts of billions of other females had betrayed their femininity and any chances their extreme beauty might once have afforded them.

Beauty, sexiness, perfectly compatible personalities; all these things were now mass-producible, and Inisfree's factories; its cloning vats, cranked them out in batches of 50 within mere seconds. What was not mass-producible, however, and what the Inisfreeans preferred to hunt and extract for their pleasures, were Outlander girls such as Sarah Conrad; naturally occurring, wholly feminine, instantly submitting girls; the only kind of Outlanders the Inisfreeans actually enjoyed. For a people who could instantly convert or otherwise create anything they desired, even to the level of entire star systems and private dimensions, Sarah Conrad, and the few million Outlander girls like her, were the Inisfreeans' diamonds, oil, and gold.

The King was busy again perfecting a few more regions of his kingdom, but he made sure to watch when Sarah mopped up the cum, sweat, and tears with her hair in the morning, and occasionally stopped by to enjoy watching her, still soaked and dirtied from everything he had just directed her through over the past 24 hours, complete her many and strenuous chores, bending her over every now and then to finally reward her with the thrusting of his cock, and the heat and flow of his seed, pumping it into all three of her main holes, and telling her the words he knew she loved and got wet for; "Good girl. Gooood girrrrrrl." He rumbled them to her as she began to feel his sperm squirt into her in their long, watery, slippery lines from his cock's opening hole, petting her head before vice gripping her body to finish every last drop and drip into her, then leaving her there to enjoy what she had earned from him, returning promptly to his also beloved and rewarding work as Inisfree's King.

The more Sarah proved to him she was totally feminine, and effortlessly submitting, compatible with his desires at all times, the greater would her status and riches be in Inisfree, and she already, after a matter of mere months, got to call one of the city's largest suites her own. In time, after she demonstrated this true femininity of hers over years, never faltering, her lust for all he lusted for... only ever increasing, he would begin to take her with him as his escort and First Girl not only across the realm he had established, but also across the rest of Outer Space, effectively giving Sarah the most protected and indefinite, all expenses paid, travel to every place in Creation she might ever think to vacation across. She would become his accessory; rarest of all privileges, as he enjoyed those adventures, too, and an accessory which untold numbers of girls from untold numbers of worlds hopelessly dreamed about and masturbated to the very idea of. He would even listen to what she had to say; something that no other Outlander might ever, in all of time, be able to boast. He might even, one day, esteem her sexier and more beloved than the timeless Freyja, goddess of sex and love, and another of his many, many consorts.

A Week Later; The Reminder:

The King had one of his Inisfreean girls fetch his top performing slave girl for him; First Girl, Sarah Conrad from the Earth's Outlands. As long as Sarah aroused and satisfied him more than any other Outlander girl, she would have that rank and title, and a palatial suite of towering, luxuriously furnished rooms all to herself. She was still a slave, though, and it was good for her to be reminded of this from time to time. Many of Earth make naturally good slaves, but they also tend to err more than those of other worlds, and so it is that they must be taught and re-taught a great many things. Like their bodies, their mortal minds lose some of their youthful abilities when they are not exercised uncompromisingly.

The Inisfreean girl stood an unintimidating five feet, three inches tall, but Sarah had learned in her education in the Receiving Facility over the past months, and with some of her encounters with these females appointed over her class, and all Outlanders allowed to visit Inisfree, that Inisfreean girls' small sizes did not matter; they were brilliant, genius tacticians and strategists, possessing the sharpest of senses, able to see and hear and taste and smell things that no other beings ever could, and every Inisfreean girl had the strength of untold numbers of the mightiest of men, though their strength was nothing compared to that of their maker's, and these specially made girls would not hesitate to humble, even humiliate, and sometimes quickly dispatch; kill, any who might offend that maker of theirs, as well as anyone who dared to speak out against their home, the Inisfreean realm, with its capital city, Inisfree.

This short girl, five inches shorter than Sarah, was intimidating because of her infinitely confident aire, and because Sarah knew all the reasons For that infinite confidence all girls born in Inisfree possessed and proudly displayed for all to see and feel. When she came to fetch Sarah, just as was the case with all Outlander girls any Inisfreean might fetch, there was no question that her submission was not only mandatory, but unavoidable, and even critical to her health; to her very existence. Inisfreeans didn't shout or strike anyone much at all because of this; their presence could not be denied, and was overwhelming; it did the pushing and shoving, and convincing, work for them. The girl, standing a full head shorter than Sarah, had the usual, sexily serene, picturesque regal countenance, and knew all she had to do to get Sarah's attention was enter the room she was in, and that all she had to do to summon Sarah, and command an immediate, urgent, eager response from Sarah, was give her a look or a brief motion of one of her fingers.

One middle finger was raised by the Inisfreean girl, and it was at her waist level, and just a foot out in front of her. Sarah had been taught to hurry over to such hand signs, making sure to politely ease the finger into her pussy, at which point she would be led around by it. To fail to pay attention; to stumble or fall while being led in this way, was a certain beating, and one which would leave any Outlander girl crying out, sometimes even sobbing and screaming, in pain and fear.

"First Girl," the Inisfreean warmly greeted Sarah, for Sarah had impressed the entire population of this new race of super-humans, "our King requires your presence at once." Her voice was as calm and pleasant as her unbelievably beautiful face and body. All Inisfreeans spoke more musically and eloquently than anyone else; even more so than the High Elves.

Once Sarah had stood confidently, yet wholly submissively before the Inisfreean girl who'd arrived to fetch her, the girl's middle finger hooked up into the First Girl's pussy, she would then be led over to her dresser and wardrobe to pick out the most arousing, revealing, obviously pleasure slave attire she could think of, and then, with that middle finger still up in her pussy, and her Inisfreean mistress, though they were called Master Females, walking alongside her, sometimes stopping without warning; often testing Sarah to make sure she was heeling whoever had been put in charge of her, rather than merely just thinking about walking toward her next assignment.

After dressing, though slave girls were seldom allowed to wear anything more than a translucent top consisting of barely half a sash's worth of silk, and one which was never allowed to cover any part of their body below the hips, Sarah had been taught to fasten a string of anal beads around her waist as an easily removable belt, and to strap a dildo-gag (like a ball-gag) around her neck, keeping its penis-shaped head completely in her mouth, her lips lightly closed around it like a pacifier, reminding her, as did the knees-wide kneeling position also taught to her, that she was a female, and that she was always to be used to being penetrated and enjoyed by men.

With her skimpy camisk, or whatever other almost-nothing article of clothing she picked out for herself, and the anal beads, in case anyone wished to make use of her via them, and the dildo-gag fastened in place, its head resting on the middle of her tongue, Sarah was considered presentable as a kajira of the Inisfreeans. Anything else; less, would be classified as indecent exposure; a criminal offense punishable in Inisfree by whatever changing punishments her master might deem enjoyable to him.

Sarah was led by the shorter Inisfreean girl, middle finger still up in Sarah's pussy, out of her private room like this, and marched through the towering hallway toward the man, master of all masters, who had dispatched this girl to collect her for him. No Inisfreean would step out of Sarah's way; that was her job; if she failed to get out of an Inisfreean's way, she would be knocked to the ground, the Inisfreean not even looking back her way, but continuing on, having made her point. Other slave girls would recognize and respect Sarah as First Girl in Inisfree; top-performing female pleasure slave, and would move out of her way, but would also be punished right alongside her whenever any of them made a mistake. Knowing this, Inisfreeans sometimes marched the slave girls they led around by their middle fingers... right into groups of passing Inisfreeans, making it a real challenge for the led girls to dodge them all without moving enough to let slip the leading finger from their pussies. This, as was often the case, was done to Sarah along their way through the towering hallway, and when one Inisfreean, true to their nature and customs, shoulder-checked Sarah to make a point; that it didn't matter if she was being led by an Inisfreean on a collision course with them, the Inisfreean girl leading her through the hallway closed her digits around the outside of Sarah's groin, getting a firm grip of her from inside and out, letting Sarah know in no uncertain terms that she would use that as an anchor if Sarah began to fall, and use her other hand to take a fistful of Sarah's hair, rather than a gentle grabbing of her wrist, to ensure she remained upright and walking briskly right along, heeling the girl who led her as much as she minded and submitted to any Inisfreeans passing by and putting her in her place. They loved her, but they would not tolerate anything less than total, constant obedience.

The King turned around to face Sarah as she was led in by one of his many daughters. He greeted his daughter warmly, fingering her while his other hand took a fistful of the short girl's hair at the back of her neck, manipulating her into a vulnerable position for him to munch around her neck as she, with her free hand, jacked him off lovingly. He removed his fingers from her pussy and then hooked his middle one up into Sarah's pussy, indicating that he had taken charge of the slave; that the girl who had fetched her could now remove her finger from the slave's pussy, and leave, which she promptly did, spinning on her heel and sexily swaying and strutting off, ensuring that she gave her father the best of views.

His hand, having released the hair of his daughter, slapped Sarah hard across her face, leaving a pink mark and her seeing stars, ensuring that she knew that even when being beaten, she had the self control and submissive nature to focus instead on pleasing her master by not falling away from his finger hooked up into her sex, nor even doing as little as flinching as if to involuntarily raise her hands in defense of her face. He slapped her a second time, just as hard, this time across her other cheek, leaving it turning pink, too. Fortunately for Sarah, she behaved appropriately; accepting all that was done to her, and only tearing up a bit because she knew the King enjoyed watching her get slapped and cry.

"Today you are scheduled to be reminded of your place; that First Girl is still a slave, and must submit in all ways, and must enjoy everything her master chooses for her." Being the Ubar of the city, as well as most of the rest of Space and all the worlds in it, he didn't have to explain himself, and seldom felt any need to; he said these things now to her simply because he felt like it, enjoying how she reacted to hearing them. He also knew that Sarah was a smart girl; she knew that she had done nothing wrong in his eyes, and that she was not in any danger, because he was interacting with her in this normal way, which meant they would likely be making rough love later in the afternoon or evening, and that she might even get to be handfed and watered by him, maybe even, if she was really, really pleasing, ending up sleeping cuddled up close to him in his vast bed, a full load of his sperm slowly trickling out of all three of her main holes the whole night through.

The King marched her back out of his room, into the towering hallway, into an A.I.O.W., and up to the roof where one of his airships was waiting; a brown-gray, almost beaked, Frisbee-shaped, military transport aircraft called an M.P.H.A.. Marching her up its lowered tailgate ramp until they were entering its aft loading compartment, his Inisfreean daughters, all nude, stayed out of his way, always giving him horny, knowing looks, blowing him sexy kisses, and standing ready to his bidding even before he said or pointed at anything, for his thoughts were the signals that triggered their every move.
With his middle finger still up inside his First Girl's pussy (his palm facing behind him, thumb in toward his side), forcing her to heel him very closely and gracefully, he proceeded with her in tow like that farther forward into the inner chambers of this M.P.H.A. of his, passing by a wall which housed a row of the same tubes which Sarah and a couple dozen girls from her now-destroyed country in the Outlands had been stored within immediately after being extracted from that falling realm of theirs. Some of the girls had been taught a terrifying lesson in these tubes; that they would be drowned in them if they were resistant in any way to their Inisfreean masters, and that the Inisfreean technology allowed only Inisfreeans to punch the girls right through the tubes' glass-like window-doors, leaving the girls completely trapped inside, unable to strike back.

Sarah, still in tow, was now being marched into this type of aircraft to remind her how she had been brought to the borders of Inisfree; it was this exact model of aircraft which had flown her here, and now, after months of being educated and trained to be the best slave girl she could be, she was allowed to set foot in it once again. Millions of other enslaved girls would seldom if ever be close enough to even see Inisfreean military vessels at a great distance, unless, of course, they were stationed aboard the larger ones as part of the Concubine Corps, having graduated the kajirae training the Inisfreeans put them through. Sarah, on the other hand, was the best kajira they had ever encountered, and so it was that she was both allowed to see such things up close and personal, and expected to familiarize herself with them, that she might better lead other slave girls whenever they needed to board, clean, or understand them.

A group of girls were kneeling in the Gorean pleasure slave position in one of the middle chambers of the M.P.H.A., and when the man they all recognized as the leader of all the superhuman Inisfreeans marched in with yet another jawdropping beauty in tow, heeling him dutifully, her heart clearly his slave as much as her body was, they were all trembling with fear, lust, respect, and the unstoppable feminine want of being used by such a man, master of all masters.

This man they were all so spellbound by stopped in front of their kneeling group, finally letting his middle finger slip out of his First Girl's pussy. He had given her no other commands, so she was to remain standing silently behind him, just off to his side. He looked over the group of kneeling girls, all teenagers, all nude, all straining to open their knees as wide as they possibly could, and to sit up as straight as they possibly could, keeping their shoulders rolled back, their breasts up, bellies flat, eyes forward, chins held high (but only to make it easier for him to grab them by their necks, if he so desired), and their breathing as quiet as they could manage under such stress.

He began to inspect them as he had Sarah when they'd first met in the subterranean arena miles away in this same city of theirs; he felt the girls' muscle groups, fingered their cavities, made sure their pussies were bald slits, and that their teeth were straight and white. If their faces were not completely bilateral, and if they had not been beautifully perfect in every conceivable way, his Inisfreean daughters would not have hunted and captured them, bringing them back here to their home city for him to play with. He was inspecting them now because he enjoyed inspecting flawless girls in this way, not because they needed to be screened; that had already been done for him by his military.

After the inspection of each girl in the kneeling group, he casually spoke to Sarah while keeping his calm, predatory gaze deep into the eyes of the girl he now squatted in front of, crouching like a man about to lunge forward and pin his sexual prey to the deck plating of their airship chamber. "Some of these girls are fresh from the Outlands. Some have had some formal training here to be worthy of the job of kajirae." He slapped the girl, whose eyes he was still peering deeply into, testing her bearing, hard across her face; harder even than he'd slapped Sarah before they'd marched out of his room a floor below this airship's helipad, and hard enough to knock the poor girl sideways into the girl kneeling next to her. She gasped, fought not to cry out or moan and whimper, and got back into the same kneeling position right in front of him, doing her best not to wince or blink as she returned her gaze to straight forward; right back into his uncaring eyes.

The girl next to her, clearly one of the newcomers, whispered, almost beginning to cry, "You are a beast." In a flash, he was standing again, and had a fistful of her hair, and his other hand on her throat, and she was yanked right up off the ground from her kneeling position like that, and made to hang in the air, her feet dangling an inch above the deck plating, her face starting to turn red from the trapped blood and restricted airflow. He held her up there like that, her weight nothing to him, for several seconds, daring her with his piercing, dark eyes to so much as squirm, that he might slay her in front of all the others, making her the first example for the day. She hung like a ragdoll in his hands, though, and so he dropped her and kicked her out of the group, sending her stumbling and sliding to the side, bumping her wrist and head on the wall over there, where she did her best to return to the kneeling position she'd been so brutally taught along her flight here that morning was required of her, no matter what was being done to her.

Turning to face the girl he'd just slapped; the one whose eyes he'd been probing with his examining gaze, he slapped her even harder this time; so hard she saw stars and fell back onto her back, instinctively reaching up to feel her cheek, and squeezing her eyes shut at the ringing in her ears. Again, she made herself get back up into the kneeling position taught to her, this time daring to speak, thinking she might be able to sexually please him enough to earn no more such slaps. "Master, you are the greatest beast of all." The girl he had just kicked out of the group had used that word condescendingly, appalled. The girl who now used it did so in a whisper that was awash with horniness for him, saying it as a sincere compliment of all compliments.

He raised both of his hands toward the sides of her face, and she winced, but her eyes went wide with apology and tears, and when his hands closed around her cheeks, he brought her leaning forward until their lips met, and he kissed her, opening her mouth with his tongue, and encouraging hers to come out of her mouth and play with his, then giving her a few seconds to suck on it before he fingered her some more, this time much more in arousal than inspection. She wisely kept her hands on her knees, palms up, not daring to reach out and touch his body with them until she was told.

Standing tall and proud, with that same infinite confidence he'd wired into his Inisfreean daughters, he let his growing, rising member slip all the way into her mouth, sliding over the full length of her tongue, entering the start of her throat, and, holding her cheeks more firmly now, he began to casually rock his hips before her, facefucking her until she relaxed her throat enough to let him throatfuck her, as well. She moaned out her intense pleasure at being redeemed and used like this, memorizing well how to apply tone and vibe; aura to her words such that the exact same ones an offender had just used... would suddenly, and so perfectly, have the complete opposite effect on him, her master forevermore.

The girl kicked to the wall was now back in her kneeling position, too, and her choked redness was now a redness of blushing and anger. The King turned his head to look down into her eyes as he continued to casually throatfuck the girl kneeling right in front of him, and when his eyes met those of the girl he'd kicked over there, she, very fortunately for herself, went white as a sheet, as if she'd just seen a ghost, and quickly looked away; at the deck plating in front of where she knelt, involuntarily gulping and starting to tremble. The lesson was clear; if you use ambiguous terms, make sure you do so in a complimentary way, never patronizing, and certainly never expecting to get away with anything sly. Beatings, and much, much worse, would ensue... otherwise.

Finished with his usage of the mouth and throat of the girl kneeling in front of him, he denied her the eruption of his seed, and she briefly moaned out her frustration, want, and sadness as he let his cock slide back out of her mouth, its precum gracing the tip of her tongue, which she greedily gulped right down. Walking out of the group of kneeling girls, and heading directly over to the one kneeling by herself now, he stood with his cock, still hard and pulsing, right in front of her face. Its hole was right between her eyes, blurred that close to her face, and she would only be able to focus on his groin. Mortified, she didn't know what to do; he hadn't given her any commands. Was he just taunting her? Did he want her to service him? She trembled even more, wondering if she could even speak, and if, having spoken, if she would live long enough to learn the acceptable way to speak to such a man and master as him.

Knowing her internal conflict, and loving how she was now pale and trembling; how completely, and so quickly and utterly, she had just been defeated, he denied her any instruction. After a long moment, she could not help but finally ask for guidance, her voice as shaky as her body. "Does Master wish me to suck his handsome cock?" She could not believe she was saying this; how different the world and culture she was kidnapped into had turned out to be.

Again, the King denied her the comfort and relief of verbal commands. She was still being punished in this way, it became clear. Again, she dared, voice and body trembling, to speak to him in a way he would not deem warranting of another beating. She paused for a second between every other word, forming her sentence as carefully and respectfully as she possibly could. "This worthless girl begs to know if she may please give pleasure to her Master, the greatest beast of all."

His affirmation was a brief pointing at his cock, which she immediately kissed and sucked right into the back of her mouth, trying with all her might to gracefully deepthroat, knowing that it was how she must apologize profusely to him; in perfect fellatio, and for so long, and as deep and roughly, as he desired. The poor girl, still in shock after being abducted by, essentially, an alien Spaceship from her hometown, watching it and everyone she knew... reduced by white lasers to rubble and then ashes scattering into the wind, did her best to orally satisfy the man she now knew, with every fiber of her being, as her permanent master, and the one person she had always better impress, no matter what he asked (commanded) of her. Choking once, her tearful eyes, big and bright and gorgeous, darted up to his face, high above her, in trembling plea that he forgive her novice attempts to do what she had never done. Tears streaked down her cheeks as her lips remained around the base of his shaft, kissing his groin as her tongue slid out to gently flick its tip up along where his balls met the underside of his cock. His face was unreadable, and she gulped at this, wondering if he might hit her even as he pulled his cock out of her untrained mouth.

Taking a long moment to regard her, he finally did start to slide his cock back out of her sucking, passionately working lips, and she moaned in dread at this, anticipating the worst; another beating, and one which would send her flying to yet another side of this airship's metal-floored room. Instead, however, he wiped away her tears, placing their moisture onto the tip of his cock, and pointed at it one more time. She quickly sucked off her own tears from the head of his penis, another two of them streaking down out of her blinking eyes, wetting her cheeks. Again, he pulled his cock back out of her mouth, her tongue still swirling around it as it left her lips' embrace, and again he wiped away her tears, this time placing their moisture onto his balls, which she just as quickly, after freezing in her place to look up at him for approval and permission one more time, went to sucking, kissing, and licking clean of them.

After a few minutes of this, he finally said "Good girl. Good job. I forgive you for your stupidity." His voice was as calm a rumble as it ever was. He slapped her hard as hell across her face --twice; once across her left cheek, then once across her right, and pointed at the group of girls. Still dazed from the blows, her ears ringing as the other girl's had, she hurried to her hands and knees, about to walk on all fours back over to them to resume kneeling amongst them as she had been ordered to in anticipation of his arrival. She was caught by a fistful of her hair, though, and yanked backwards so harshly that again her head hit the metal wall.

The girl, further stunned and even more scared than before, trembled as if she was freezing, and her big, bright, watery eyes looked up at her new master, her teeth clattering as she gulped, wondering if trying to shield herself from more of his assaults would help a bit... or be suicide. 'What does he want me to Do??!' she cried out in her head, not realizing that he and all Inisfreeans could hear her thoughts just as crisply as she could.

"Slave," he calmly rumbled, looking down to her from his godlike stance, his voice intentionally contrasting with his brutal strikes against her; another technique of the psychological warfare used to shape such girls into acceptable pleasure slaves, "of course you must always give thanks when you are approved; when you are complimented on performing correctly."

Still shivering and wanting to rub the back of her head; where it had hit the wall she was yanked back against; the same spot her hairs had been so rudely tugged by his quick catch, she sobbed among another set of streaking tears, "Thank you, Master!" but all he did was shake his head from side to side a few times. The girl went white once again, completely confused; had she not just done exactly what he'd said? How could she ever please this man? Had she misinterpreted something? Was this just a test?; a mind game?

He granted her the leniency of one clarification; "Not with words; a slave girl does not speak unless told to. A slave girl gives her thanks with her body. Make it clever; original." He folded his arms, waiting to see what she would do next.

She was clearly thinking about it, wracking her brain for something that would please him. He liked when she was sexual with him, and submissive, and he wanted something new along those lines. Still on shaky legs, she forced herself up to dare rising into a stance before him, but made sure to slowly, sexily, hornily slide her nude flesh all the way up from his shin to his side, letting her palms and fingertips trace featherlight trails up the inside of his legs as she gradually stood like this, sharing all her feminine curves with him, and then cupped her hands around his ass in a sexual hug, sliding her smooth inner thigh up and down on the front of his nearest quad, breathily, quietly moaning from her lips letting out hot panting directly onto his chest, "Ohhhh, Masssterrr."

His lightning-quick hand had another fistful of her hair, and she gasped, removing her hands from his sides immediately, thinking she had failed him again, but as his other hand's palm smacked up against her pussy so hard she yelped, she realized he was beginning to finger her, and his tongue soon thereafter slid all the way down into her mouth, allowing her to begin sucking on it, which she did with haste, surrender, and adoration, knowing that anything less than all of that combined... would spell a certain and swift doom for her tiny little body, so fragile against his utterly masculine one.

"Return to your group, slave," he calmly rumbled to her, roughly fingering her while rubbing her clit with his palm, challenging her to move away from the stimulus she was hard-wired to crave and drool for. Stumbling, overcome with pleasure for the man, she obeyed, still wondering if she might be yanked back, thrown, or beaten, but now... not caring as much, so long as she was used in some way by him.

Once she resumed kneeling, knees wide open, hands on them, palms up, and her big, bright, beautiful eyes straight forward, he gave her another chance to prove she understood her place in Inisfree and the new world order. "Slave," he rumbled, a bit louder now. All the girls in her group darted their bright, attentive eyes over to his, wondering if he meant them. His dark eyes indicated the girl he'd twice sent colliding against the hard wall of their airship chamber. "Kneel in front of your group, your side to them, facing me."

Sarah and the rest of those girls had probably never seen anyone move so quickly and purposefully. As quickly as she had been siezed and struck, that same girl was now, almost in a flash, exactly where and how he had told her to be. He calmly walked up in front of her, his cock, now hanging as a chub, was again right in front of her face. She made no move to being sucking it, waiting for the slightest body language from him, her total master, to very, very politely request permission to resume pleasing him, but he spoke to the rest of her group instead; "This slave slut is an untrained wench." He would continue testing her with harsh words, even though that particular one; 'slut', was not considered an insult in Inisfree. "An untrained girl is a serious offense."

The poor girl, for the third time, went white with panic, more tears forming in her eyes, wondering how she could change his mind, having not had any time to train during the short flight that had spirited her here. She closed her eyes for a second and pursed her lips, accepting that she might be beaten once again. Again, her teeth were clattering, and she strained to quiet them, not wanting to be displeasing to the man who had taken control of her.

"Observe, slaves." All the girls turned their eyes from him to her. He addressed her now; "Turn around, slave slut."
She hurriedly did so.
"Place your feet a few feet apart, and place your hands in front of them, also a few feet apart, then raise your ass high above you, straightening your legs, and keep your eyes on the floor in front of you."
She hurriedly did so.
The King held his re-hardening cock so that its head was aiming right at her pussy, then eased it an inch into her.
She gasped at that, and again as his hands, like a vice grip, took hold of her hips. She wanted to beg him to be gentle with her; to go slowly at first, but then she realized she was dripping wet... Soaking wet, and she only bit her lip in want and wonder.

He rocked his hips, inserting another inch of his cock, now parting her pussy lips around it, and beginning to stretch her insides out to accommodate him. He felt how wet she'd become, and smirked, sliding another inch of his cock into her, his hands still holding her pelvis so firmly that he could have thrust deeply enough into her that it might kill her.

The girl, whose pussy was now trembling much more than her arms, belly, and legs, finally got this look on her face like she had made some deep realization or breakthrough. Her breathing slowed. She wetted her lips with her tongue. Her pussy relaxed. Her toes spread out for a second. She wanted him in her; all of him.

Smirking one more time, the King eased the rest of his cock into her, but denied her the feeling of its friction pumping them both to orgasm. Instead, he slid his whole cock back out of her, knowing it would force her to have to come to terms with being penetrated by him in an entirely different way, and guided the head of his cock an inch into her asshole.

The girl reddened, almost as much as before, again feeling offended due to her foolish Outlander upbringing, instead of desired and well used, and his hands flexed around her hips in a way that very clearly communicated through touch to her: 'You WILL let me do this to you. You have no will of your own. You WILL enjoy this, thank me with your body; as I have just taught you to, and ask politely for more.'

The King slowly slid the entire length of his long cock all the way down into her asshole, making sure she felt her asscheeks press against the front of where his legs met his pelvis, and flexed it there, completely to its base inside her, his balls pressing up against the soaking wet slit of her freshly fucked pussy.

"I am done with you," he calmly rumbled to her, letting his cock slide all the way back out of her asshole. "Return to your place in the group, slave."

Wincing a bit, she hurriedly did so, and knelt better than ever before in that sexy position all of her gender had been taught to, still reddened, but this time from how turned on it had made her, surprising her to no end. She even realized that she enjoyed being watched; focused on while all the other girls --'slave sluts', she reminded herself to start calling them, as that was her master's will-- had to sit by and be horny without the deep joy of their master's penetration. 'I Want That Man,' she thought to herself, trying not to think out loud. 'I will do Anything for That Man.'

"First Girl," he said over his shoulder to Sarah, who had been left to stand dutifully near the entry hatch to this inner chamber of the airship. "Show these girls how it's done; show them some of the skills that earned you your elevated position amongst them." It was now Sarah's turn to be pleasing to their King; to suck him off, to fuck him, to do whatever he directed her to, all in front of them, even if he took to slapping her around, or beating her, or anything else. She was now to demonstrate to them how to be pleasing to him during it all; how to properly submit to this master of all of them; how his favorite girl had become his favorite girl, that they all might, in watching her perform for them, lead gentler, happier, more appreciated lives... now that Inisfree was their home, too.

With her dildo-gag still in and strapped around her neck, until he told her to remove it, or removed it himself, it was obvious which of her bodyparts would be made use of first in this presentation of the First Girl; of sexual perfection; of goddesshood.

"Good girl," was all he said to her, and, having earned her place as First Girl, Sarah Conrad was permitted a wider variety of responses and follow-on actions; she might rise and return to a previous place without having to be told, for example, and could, upon occasion, approach her master with any clever ideas they now knew her capable of generating and politely expressing. Though held to a much higher standard than all the other slave girls, as she had also proven herself competent enough and talented enough to perform more impressive sexual acts, more of what she said and did was naturally found pleasing by her master, their King. Thereby, Sarah had secured for herself a much greater freedom than the rest of them, as well as a profound respect and adoration from the entire Inisfreean population, who would defend her, as well as Secret Service would defend the President, against attackers from the Outlands.

"These slave sluts are dirty and they smell," the King casually informed one of his daughters; an Inisfreean girl stepping back into their inner chamber of the M.P.H.A. still perched upon the helipad atop his gigantic mansion's roof. "Clean them and groom them. Then feed, water, and kennel them." It was implied that the girls who were already in training were thereafter to be returned to their class, and the girls who had just been captured and brought to Inisfree for the first time in their lives... were to be assigned to a new class yet to start its lessons.

"Yes, father," the short Inisfreean girl chirped, merrily, to her maker. Her eyes flashed and darkened as she then turned them from the man and master she loved with all her heart... to the new 'recruits', as it were, (or draftees, rather) who she was now tasked with quickly improving. The partially trained girls in the group had been in the proximity of brand new, untrained ones, and so it was that their whole group was considered equally filthy; all of them would be showered and further decontaminated together, in a public stall, by fire hose.

The Inisfreean girl, her hair and eyes slowly changing colors, snapped her fingers, and the whole group of kneeling, captured, teenage girls bolted up onto their feet, standing as straight and beautifully as they had been kneeling and surrendering themselves. "Heel me, slaves," the Inisfreean girl calmly commanded them, her tone very clearly stating further that even the slightest hesitation, no matter the reason, would be met with a vicious assault, followed by a multiplication of chores and other duties.

Sarah had again been reminded of her role in Inisfree; she was First Girl, and that came with a long list of responsibilities, such as being the main training aid and demonstrator, as well as the centerpiece of most orgies and other parties. Sometimes the King doubted she was truly so wholly a pleasure slave girl, through and through, and he squinted at her, regarding her as he thought these things, wondering if his eternal testing might someday be less than well met, cherished, and adored by her; if he might some day need to replace her, or even dispose of her. So far, though, she had proven his heart-slave, and a slave at heart, just as she had said. He would test her harder and harder to both make sure this was as true as could be, and to enjoy the heavenly arousal that was her instinctive and utter submission to everything he ever said.

"I have thought about branding you, you know, Sarah," the King had now taken to using Sarah's name, instead of just calling her 'slave', though he also still enjoyed addressing her as 'slave slut' (a compliment in Inisfree) and 'First Girl', as she had proven herself worthy, for now, of that lofty, nearly impossible to attain, title. He walked with her, his middle finger in her pussy, ensuring that she heeled him expertly and very closely. They rounded a corner in the Kathedrom; Inisfree's medieval themed enclosure and compound, like a fortified village, where it held its Renaissance Festivals, and the most barbaric handling of slaves outside its underground arena, and the field and cave where it punished its slave girls the hardest. The moment the King and his First Girl, side by side, had strolled around one of its corners together, the view of dozens of slave girls tied down to posts as thick and deeply rooted as tree trunks spread out before Sarah's eyes. Those girls were tied down such that they remained on all fours, hands and feet far apart, wrists and ankles masterfully tied to tree trunk like posts anchored deeply into the earth around them, with their bellies resting on the widest of such posts, their bodies kept fully exposed; nude. Lines of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of men; warriors from the Outlands who had rallied to the King's cause and banner, waited for their turn to roughly use and abuse as many of those girls as they found themselves attracted to.

The camp was surrounded by a steep, tall fence of wooden spikes the size of telephone poles, shaped like giant pencils, their tops sharpened into points the size of half a girl. Torches and fire pits burned, hissed, and popped all around it, and guard towers which looked like forest ranger lookout stations lined the wall on its inside, placed at even intervals, each one staffed by a half dozen Inisfreean girls armed with bows and arrows.

Inside this camp, the Kathedrom, were many thatch roof huts and wigwams, as well as shacks and shanties, all being used for the housing of many hundreds of teenaged slave girls. In the center of the fenced-in area, surrounded by many of these much smaller buildings, was a ziggurat-like temple, mostly made of crude stone, but with far fewer steps, and with a thatch roof like all the other structures that spread out adjacent the edge of its foundation. Sconces held torches a foot away from its stone pillars, which held up the dark wooden framework that supported its thatch roof.

Deeper inside that central, temple like building, was a courtyard in the Roman style; open to the sky, surrounding a short yard and long, rectangular, shallow, fountain pool. A clone engineered to look like a much sexier version of Shakira, wearing only a long skirt of diaphanous, black silk, cut into two inch wide strips which hung like vertical sashes, designed to reveal all of her legs, ass, and the front of her pussy each time she walked or otherwise moved, and especially when she knelt, squatted, or sat down, stood just inside the first shadows of its roof's overhang. She seemed to be surveying everything beyond the temple she manned, as if she was the female placed in charge of the whole compound; the Kathedrom, by its (and her) maker, their King; the man who walked aside Sarah, his middle finger hooked up into her pussy the whole time.

Some of the girls tied up on all fours, being heavily used by the hundreds of warriors feasting and enjoying themselves there, had learned, or been taught, to beg them, speaking as slaves, to cum inside them, to beat them, and even to whip them. "Please beat me, master," they would sexily beg. They got their request in that case.

Several men, all warriors, had lined up to take turns whipping one of them. She quickly learned that by begging to be whipped, and crying out her thanks to whomever had whipped her, she would be whipped a bit less, beaten a bit less, and fucked a bit more the way she preferred, whether that was gently or mercilessly roughly. At first, she seemed to be thrilled by this discovery, and used it to its fullest, but eventually, tiring of it, and craving much rougher usage, she tried slinging an insult at one of the men, and it didn't go well for her; enraged by such boldness from a female, two of the men fell upon her, tied up though she was, and began pummeling her with their fists, leaving many bruises all over her body, and did not stop until they had kicked sand into her eyes and mouth, then threatened to twist her head clean off. It was unwise to disrespect a warrior allied with Inisfree. Inisfree treats its warriors like the gods they are and deserve to be.

"The only reason I have not branded you, or Had you branded, Sarah," the King continued to chat with his First Girl as they watched the show intensifying across the most open area of the Kathedrom before them, "is because I am not yet convinced that I would find a girl marked in that way... as sexy as the men of Gor would." As he said that, the girls tied down on all fours over and between the post stumps... began to cry out in terror, violently struggling against the ropes that expertly held them down in place there. They were screaming now because white-hot branding irons were being brought out from behind one of the many sheds. The King had brought Sarah here, not warning her in advance as to what she would see, to use her reaction as litmus paper; for determining how much she truly wanted to be branded, as she had touched upon in the past.

"Ask your master to brand and beat you," one of the Inisfreeans advised one of the girls tied down. The girl trembled, knowing that if she hesitated too long, she would be beaten in addition to that, assuming she wasn't ended right then and there; killed.

"Master, this slave slut begs you to brand and beat her," the girl finally said, gulping and shutting her eyes until she heard the men around her laughing, her body involuntarily trembling almost as if in a spasm.

She was promptly then marked thusly, the branding, screaming, shaking, writhing, then defeat and sobbing of her and all her sisters tied down there filling that room's air with the atmosphere and vibe their king and his daughters, the Inisfreeans, knew and loved. Lying limp on the middle, widest log, the last girl who had, upon command, begged to be branded and beaten, finished her final scream, and was, in her turn, removed from it, moved by firm grips on her upper arms to her latest place of bondage, her collar padlocked to the slave chain there.

"Sarah, if you truly wish to wear my brand, you may be branded right now; right here. I will see how it looks on you." Inisfreean technology could always heal the scar away, anyway, should it prove not sexy enough.

It was then, after more than a year of being property, yet having no traditional brand, that she was given the brand of Inisfree.  It was applied how the brands of all the girls kidnapped and enslaved by Inisfree are; as the brand of Gor are to its Own slave girls; precisely, delicately, enhancing her beauty, rather than damaging it. Now Sarah had a proper, traditional, kajira brand to go with her stunning, literally otherworldly collar. She was, more than ever before, completely a slave, inside and out.

The King locked her in her guest suite in his mansion to heal for the next couple of days, leaving her in peace to examine her long anticipated brand in any of the mirrors of those palatial rooms she'd earned and been assigned to. He wanted her 100% for the next time he summoned her to use her to her fullest, filling her to overflowing with his cum... and all the cum of his many guests. She had soothed, balanced, and calmed him once again, like few girls ever could, and would, by being used that completely, again and again achieve the same... and more.