Here are relevant references from the Books where a whips in general are mentioned.
I make no pronouncements on these matters, but report them as I find them.
Arrive at your own conclusions.
I wish you well,
I tried to rise to my feet, but the weight was too much. I heard the hiss of a whip and gritted my teeth as the leather coil bit at my flesh.
Amidst the burning of the lash wounds I felt the cold air of the dungeon on my back. The whip had opened my tunic, I would be bleeding. I turned to look at the man who had spoken. It was he who held the whip. I noted grimly that its leather was wet with my blood.
The Whip Slave, another of the slaves of Tharna, but one in charge of the chain, was pleased with his task. Though he might never see the light of the sun, yet it was he who held the whip, he who was Ubar in this macabre dungeon.
The slaves tensed, their eyes fixed on the trough. The whip lifted. When it fell, that would be the signal that they might rush to the trough.
There was pleasure in the eyes of the Whip Slave as he enjoyed the tormenting moment of suspense which his uplifted whip inflicted on the ragged, hungry slaves.
The whip cracked. "Feed!" he shouted.
"Let me test your grip," said one of the captains. "I use only strong men on my ships."
He extended his hand.
In an instant he was screaming for mercy.
"Stop, Slave!" cried the slave master, striking me with the butt of his whip.
I released the man's hand, not having chosen to break it.
"Away," said the driver, "before I use the whip on you!"
"Stop!" she wept. "Stop!" Then she ran to the head of the tharlarion and seized its halter. The beast grunting, slowed, dragging the girl's weight; she clung fiercely to the halter; it moved its head about, pulling her about, from side to side, shaking her; it tossed its head impatiently upward, lifting her literally from the ground. But she held firmly to the halter and was then, in a moment, still clinging to it, again on the ground. The beast stopped.
The third man went to the table, that on which rested the attaché case. He removed an object from the case. I gasped in terror. He handed it to the man in front of me. It was a whip. It had a single, stout, coiled lash.
The whip is an excellent mnemonic device. The girl who receives a lash, or lashes, for an error, seldom repeats it.
He looked much as he had before, robed, and such, save that now, as he reclined in the curule chair, across his knees there lay a whip.
"I think I will beat you," he said. She sensed that the blade of the whip was shaken free.
He threw the whip to one side.
"The beating was nothing," he said, angrily. "It was not the five-bladed Gorean slave lash. You were not even tied at a ring."
Then I was put under the slave whip of Gor .
I am sure the beating was light, and intended to be more informative than anything else, but, still, I had, for the first time in my life, felt the flexible broad-bladed, five-stranded Gorean slave lash, designed specifically for the discipline of female slaves, a lash designed to punish but not to mark.
"What if we are not sold?" I asked.
"The masters would be displeased," she said. "It is common to whip a girl who is not sold."
"She will prove satisfactory," said the fellow. "The whip will see to it."
"Please do not whip me!" I said.
"Do you deserve to be whipped?" he asked.
"I trust not, Master!" I said.
"Do not all kajirae deserve to be whipped?" he asked.
"I trust not, Master!" I said.
"Even so," I said.
"Surely they know what they have done, or failed to do, even if masters do not," he said, "and thus well know, given their lapses and faults, however infrequent or slight, which may have escaped the notice of the masters, how richly they deserve to be whipped, and, accordingly, should have no objection whatsoever, to having the lash at any time well laid upon them."
Slaves, as other animals, are seldom whipped on Gor. The reason for that is simple, and obvious. The slave, subject to the whip and knowing herself so, is careful to avoid it, insofar as it lies in her power. She does her best to satisfy her master, and in all the ways of the slave, all of them. And, obviously, she who satisfies a man fully has little, if anything, to fear. Thus, it is she who is primarily responsible for keeping the whip on its peg. She is, of course, subject to discipline, and this encourages diligence. The female slave is far more likely to be beaten by a free woman than a free man. To the free man she is a joy and treasure; to the free woman she is a hated reproach and rival.
"Go downstairs," said the beast to the Lady Bina. "Fetch a slave whip."
"They have no slave," she said.
"They will have such a device," he said.
I did not doubt it.
Such things are common in a Gorean household. Delia companion of Epicrates, a free woman, I was sure, would not be without one. Who knew when a slave, perhaps near the shop at a fountain, on the street might be displeasing? Free women, abroad, often have a switch about their person.
"I trust the alcove is well furnished," I said, "with various instruments, a switch, a whip such things."
"Of course," he said.
Kurik then, to my relief, folded the blades of the whip about the handle, clipped them closed, and hooked the handle at his belt.