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Here are relevant references from the Books where Slave Wine is mentioned.
For your convenience, here is a link to the 'Wine of the Noble Free Woman'.
It is not meant to be anything other than the facts of the matter.
Arrive at your own conclusions.
I wish you well,
"The two females," I told him, "have recently been free. Accordingly, as soon as they have been collared, force them to drink slave wine."
"Yes, Captain," grinned Tab.
Slave wine is bitter, intentionally so. Its effect lasts for more than a Gorean month. I did not wish the females to conceive. A female slave is taken off slave wine only when it is her master's intention to breed her.
Marauders of Gor Book 9 Page 23
Gorm then stood beside Ivar Forkbeard. He carried, on a strap over his shoulder, a tall, dark vessel, filled with liquid. The men on the shore laughed. Attached to the vessel, by a light chain, was a golden cup. It had two handles. From a spout on the vessel, grinning, Gorm filled the golden cup. The liquid swirling in the cup was black.
Drink," said Ivar Forkbeard, thrusting the cup into the hands of the slender, blond girl, she who had, so long ago, in the temple of Kassau, worn the snood of scarlet yarn, with twisted golden wire, the red vest and skirt, the white blouse.
She held the cup. It was decorated; about its sides, cunningly wrought, was a design, bond-maids, chained. A chain design also decorated the rim, and, at five places on the cup, was the image of a slave whip, five-strapped. She looked at the black liquid.
"Drink," said the Forkbeard.
She lifted it to her lips, and tasted it. She closed her eyes, and twisted her face.
"It is too bitter," she wept.
She felt the knife of the Forkbeard at her belly. "Drink," said he.
She threw back her head and drank down the foul brew. She began to cough and weep. The coffle rope was untied from her throat. "Send her to the branding log," said the Forkbeard. He thrust the girl down the gangplank, into the arms of the waiting men, who hurried her from the dock. One by one, the prizes of Ivar Forkbeard, even the rich, proud Aelgifu, were forced to down the slave wine. Then they were, one by one, freed from the coffle, and hurried to the branding log.
Marauders of Gor Book 9 Pages 83 - 84
The effect of the slave wine endures several cycles, or moons; it may be counteracted by another drink, a smooth, sweet beverage, which frees the girl's body for the act of the male slave, or, in unusual cases, should she be freed, to the act of the lover; slave girls, incidentally, are almost never freed on Gor; they are too delicious and desirable to free; only a fool, it is commonly said, would free one.
Slave Girl of Gor Book 11 Page 70
"We make them chew carefully and watch closely to see that they swallow, bit by bit, in small swallows, sip roots, as well," said another.
"We then examine their mouths, forcing them widely open, to determine that they have finished their entire allotment of the root," said another.
I nodded. Sip roots are extremely bitter. Slave wine, incidentally, is made from sip roots.
Blood Brothers of Gor Book 18 Page 124
She did not need the sip root, of course, for, as she had pointed out, she had had some within the moon, and, indeed, the effect of sip root, in the raw state, in most women, is three or four moons. In the concentrated state, as in slave wine, developed by the caste of physicians, the effect is almost indefinite, usually requiring a releaser for its remission, usually administered, to a slave, in what is called the breeding wine, or the "second wine."
. . .
The active ingredient in the breeding wine, or the "second wine," is a derivative of teslik. In the matter of bitterness of taste there is little to choose from between raw sip root and slave wine, the emulsive qualities of the slave wine being offset to some extent by the strength of the concentrations involved.
Blood Brothers of Gor Book 18 Page 319
"Drink this," said Drusus Rencius.
What is it?" I asked, startled. It seemed he had produced this almost by magic. It was a soft, leather botalike flask drawn from within his tunic.
"Slave wine," he said.
"Need I drink that?" I asked, apprehensively.
"Unless you have had slave wine," he said, "I have no intention of taking you through the streets clad as you are. Suppose you are raped."
I put the flask, which he had opened, to my lips. Its opening was large enough to drink freely from. "It is bitter!" I said, touching my lips to it.
"It is the standard concentration, and dosage," he said, "plus a little more, for assurance. Its effect is indefinite, but it is normally renewed annually, primarily for symbolic purposes.
I could not believe how bitter it was. I had learned from Susan, whom I had once questioned on the matter, the objective and nature of slave wine. It is prepared from a derivative of sip root. The formula, too, I had learned, at the insistence of masters and slavers, had been improved by the caste of physicians within the last few years. It was now, for most practical purposes, universally effective. Too, as Drusus Rencius had mentioned, its effects, at least for most practical purposes, lasted indefinitely.
"Have no fear," said Drusus Rencius. "The abatement of its effects is reliably achieved by the ingestion of a releaser."
"Oh," I said. I knew this, of course. Susan had told me.
When a female slave is given the releaser she knows that she may soon expect to be hooded, and bred.
"Could it not be sweetened?" I asked.
"I have chosen that you drink it as it is," be said, "as it is normally drunk."
Kajira of Gor Book 19 Pages 130 - 131
"Have you had your slave wine?" asked Ina.
"Yes," I said. This is not really a wine, or an alcoholic beverage. It is called "slave wine," I think, for the amusement of the masters. It is extremely bitter. One draught of the substance is reputed to last until the administration of an appropriate "releaser." In spite of this belief, however, or perhaps in deference to tradition, lingering from earlier times, in which, it seems, less reliable "slave wines" were available, doses of this foul stuff are usually administered to female slaves at regular intervals, usually once or twice a year. Some girls, rather cynical ones, I suspect, speculate that the masters give it to them more often than necessary just because they enjoy watching them down the terrible stuff. This is unlikely, however. There are cheaper and more easily available ingredients for such a mode of discipline than slave wine.
Dancer of Gor Book 22 Page 174
"I trust your little slut is on slave wine," he said.
"Of course," I said. "I have not chosen, at least as yet, to have her mated."
Magicians of Gor Book 25 Pages 418 - 419
I had been given slave wine in the pens, of course, but it was not mine to call that to their attention. Indeed, the matter was undoubtedly noted on my papers. Perhaps these men merely wished to make sure of the matter. Or perhaps they merely wished to have me drink slave wine before them, either for their amusement, or because of the effects of this act, which were not only practical but symbolic. The effect of slave wines, at least those now in general use, seems to be indefinite, but they are commonly renewed annually, perhaps largely for symbolic purposes. One removes the effects of such wine by drinking a "releaser." The wines themselves could be sweetened, but normally served bitter, which taste, as I understand it, is closer to that of the original root, the sip root, from which they are ultimately derived. The "releaser" or, at least the wine in which it is mixed, the "breeding wine" or "second wine," is sweet. The breeding of slaves, like that of most domestic animals, is carefully supervised. Slave breeding usually takes place in silence, at least as far as speech is concerned. Similarly the slaves are normally hooded. They are not to know one another. This is thought useful in reducing, or precluding, certain possible emotional complications. The breeding takes place under the supervision of masters, or their agents, with endorsements being recorded on proper papers. I was pleased, of course, because, just as I took my feeding to be an indication that I was to be kept, if only for a time, so, too, I would interpret my being given slave wine as constituting something of a reassurance of my desirability something in the nature of an indication that I might have been found, these men looking upon me, not without promise as a kajira, even though I was a woman of Earth.
Witness of Gor Book 26 Page 189
"That is what we must drink," I had informed her, noting with satisfaction the expression on her face as she had lifted up the bowl, filled with the foul brew, and had smelled it. "It is not like the delicious beverages quaffed by free women for such purposes, is it?" I asked.
"No," she had whispered.
"I am told, however," I said, "that the releaser is delicious. When we are given that we know that we are to be bred." This form of mating, as one might suppose, is carefully controlled and takes place under supervision. The slaves selected for breeding are generally unknown to one another, normally hooded and commonly forbidden to speak. In this way it is felt that certain complications may be avoided.
She looked down at the foul brew.
"You need not drink it," I said to her.
"No," she whispered. Then she lifted the bowl to her lips. She put back her head. Then, scarcely pausing to take a breath, she drained the bowl.
"Oh!" she cried, her entire body shuddering.
"That is slave wine," I said, "free woman."
I regarded her with some satisfaction. I thought that she might now understand, a little bit better than before, what it might be to be a slave.
"How can you drink it?" she asked.
"Do you think we are given a choice?" I asked
She put the bowl down, unsteadily.
"Will it work with a free woman?" she asked.
"If she is a female," I said. "Where do you think slave girls come from?"
Witness of Gor Book 26 Pages 413 - 414
"Have you had your slave wine?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. She shuddered. She had been knelt and held, her head forced back, and cruelly held so by the hair, and her mouth forced open, and the spike of the wooden funnel forced between her teeth. Then the wretched, foul stuff was poured into mouth, her nostrils at the same time being pinched tightly shut. When she had to breathe she must imbibe the slave wine. Afterwards her hands were tied behind her, that she might not induce its vulgar emission.
"You cannot now conceive," he told her. "If a releaser, as one speaks of it, is later administered, which is a quite sweet, flavorful drink I am told, you will again be able to conceive. Conception in slaves, of course, is closely supervised. They are crossed, mated, and bred only as, and precisely as, masters desire."
Prize of Gor Book 27 Page 80
"Slave wine," which, as administered to slaves, is terribly bitter, from the sip root, found in the Barrens, precluded conception. The "releaser," which is commonly syrupy, and sweet, nullifies the effects of the "slave wine."
Prize of Gor Book 27 Page 197
Archon pressed two roots into his hands, and Cabot held them to his face, and took their scent. They were sip root. He was familiar with sip root for it is the active ingredient in slave wine. It is taken raw in the Barrens by the white female slaves of the Red Savages, unless it is decided that they are to be bred. In its raw, unconcentrated state the effects of the root last some months, but gradually dissipate. In the high cities the Caste of Physicians has produced a slave wine whose effects are terminated only by a counter substance, called the Releaser. Sip root is bitter to the taste, and slave wine is not sweetened either. The Releaser, however, is not only palatable, but aromatic and delicious. When it is given to the girl she may, to her dismay and misery, and perhaps shrieking for mercy, expect to be soon sent to the breeding sheds, to be chained and hooded, and crossed with a male slave, who is similarly hooded. Slaves, as other domestic animals, are bred according to the will of the masters. Cabot knelt his gifts, and gave them each a root, which they then, head down, shuddering, slowly, distastefully, chewed and swallowed.
Kur of Gor Book 28 Pages 183 - 184
I glanced at her legs, and then I asked her, "Have you had slave wine?"
"What is slave wine?" she asked.
"It prevents conception," I said. "Slaves are not to breed randomly. Their crossings are to be decided by masters."
Swordsmen of Gor Book 29 Page 154
"Were you given slave wine?" I asked. I recalled she had had "the wine of the noble free woman."
She closed her eyes and, involuntarily, shuddered with misery. Then she looked at me, shaken. "My hands were tied behind my back," she said, "and then I was knelt and my head yanked back by the hair, and held in place, and the spout forced between my teeth, and my nostrils pinched shut, and it was poured into me, and I must imbibe the beverage or suffocate. It was most bitter, most foul. And then, unable to disgorge the brew, even later, for the tying of my hands, I must endure to have my head shaved."
"The shaving of the head was doubtless to help you understand better your bondage," I said, "but, too, it is perhaps not entirely regrettable considering the applications to which you have been put.
. . .
Whereas, as suggested earlier, the effects of slave wine and "the wine of the noble free woman" are identical, the common ingredient being sip root, there is a considerable difference in the two drinks. Slave wine makes no attempt to conceal the bitterness of ground, raw sip root, whereas "the wine of the noble free woman" is flavored, spiced, and sweetened in such a way that it offers no offense to the delicate and more refined sensibility of the free woman. A slave, of course, as any domestic animal, is to be bred only if and when, and how, the master wishes. A releaser, interestingly, deliciously palatable, is administered to the slave prior to her mating. In the mating, which is supervised by masters, she will be crossed with a male slave. Both slaves will be hooded, and are forbidden to speak, that neither will later, should they meet, know the other.
Swordsmen of Gor Book 29 Page 235
And, of course, there is, too, taste, that of the bit forced back, between her teeth, and fastened there, of the gag, the disgusting horror of slave wine, the delicious releaser,
Mariners of Gor Book 30 Page 182
"Have you had your slave wine?" I inquired.
I thought this a judicious question, and one that might not occur to Callias, and the slave, given the reckless pitch of their activities. A sober head is not amiss in such matters. It also seemed a good question to ask, too, as the slave, if white silk, did not seem destined to long remain in that condition.
"Yes, Master," cried the slave, gasping, "that horrid stuff was forced down my throat shortly after my first collaring, and when I first came aboard the great ship, that of Tersites, and before I was landed, at the World's End, and again, here at Brundisium, before I was brought ashore."
I was well satisfied in this. Indeed, given improvements in slave wine, dating back some years, brewed from the sip root, the first administering of the wine would be sufficient indefinitely, until the administration of a releaser, which removes its effects. The releaser, I am told, unlike slave wine, which is quite bitter, is quite pleasant, rather like a sweet wine, or fruit liqueur. It is usually administered when it is decided that the slave is to be bred. Sometimes slave wine is administered more than once. There could be several reasons for this, for example, one might not know if it has been administered before, and one might wish to make sure of the matter, or one might simply wish additional security in the matter, which seemed to explain the dosage at the World's End, or that before bringing the slave ashore in Brundisium. Too, one might administer it as a punishment, rather like a whipping or a night in close chains. Needless to say, if the slave comes with papers, a certification with respect to slave wine, and the date of its most recent administration, will usually be included in the papers.
Mariners of Gor Book 30 Pages 524 - 525
I did not fear pregnancy, for early in my sojourn in the house I had been given Slave Wine. Understanding its nature I had imbibed it willingly enough, as disgusting and foul a brew as it was. Its effects are removed, I am told, if one is given a Releaser, which, I am told, is palatable, even delicious.
Conspirators of Gor Book 31 Page 147
I also found another root, and carelessly bit into it, which turned out to be a most serious, even hideous, mistake, unless, perhaps, one were on the brink of dying of starvation. It was not poisonous, of course, but one could easily conceive of it being regarded as such. In a loose sense, it was edible. It had been left by the tarsks, and this was not surprising. Its bitterness was unbelievable. Recoiling, dismayed, weeping with misery, I spat it out, and then, hacking and coughing, half retching, continued to spit away whatever residue I could. I spat again and again into the ground. I knew well what it was, for I had encountered a fluid, brewed from it long ago in my training. I had been knelt, my hands tied behind me. Then I had cried out in pain, for my head, by the hair, had been jerked back, far back, by a guard. I saw the ceiling above me. Without releasing my hair, but keeping my head in place by means of it, he then, with his free hand, pinched shut my nostrils. I had then sensed a second guard, approaching. As he neared, and then loomed over me, I saw he carried a metal, narrow-spouted vessel. In a moment, I began to gasp. Only through my mouth could I breathe. I tried to squirm, and shake my head, but I was held in place. Then, as I opened my mouth widely, gasping, fighting for breath, I felt the spout of the metal vessel in my mouth. I could not fully close my mouth because of it. I took a deep breath, sucking the air into my lungs. Then, before I could breathe again, the vessel was tipped, and fluid began to flood into my mouth, a repellant, gross, revolting fluid, and it filled my mouth like a pool. Held as I was, I could not rid myself of it. I needed air. My head hurt, from the strain on my tightly grasped hair. My wrists fought the cords that held them. In my oral cavity, bitter and reeking, brimming it, reposed that small, foul pool, like a tiny lake of bitter, odious filth. I wanted to force it from my mouth, but could not do so. I had no air with which to expel it. I feared I might suffocate. My lungs cried out for air. I must breathe, but to do so the beverage must first be swallowed. I did so. No, I had not forgotten slave wine. It is brewed from the sip root. Relia had told me that in the vast grasslands far to the east, the Barrens, the white slaves of red masters must chew and swallow the root raw. I spat again into the dirt. We are to be bred, of course, only as, and when, and if, the masters please. Our bodies are not our own; they are the masters'. I was then allowed to rise and return to the training room. My hands, tied behind me, would not be unbound for over an Ahn. We must not be allowed to rid ourselves of the fluid. The taste was with me for more than a day. Slave wine has been developed by the green caste, the caste of Physicians, one of the five high castes of Gor, the others being the Initiates, the Builders, the Scribes, and the Warriors. The green caste has also produced the "releaser," as it is called, which is reputedly delicious. It removes the effects of slave wine. When administered the "releaser," a girl may expect to be hooded and sent to the breeding stalls.
Smugglers of Gor Book 32 Pages 245 - 246
Even before you leave this enclave, you will be given slave wine. It cannot be administered too soon to slaves. It will prevent conception.
. . .
The effects of slave wine are counteracted by a drink called a 'Releaser'. If you are administered such a potion, you may expect, shortly thereafter, to be hooded and conducted to a breeding stall.
Plunder of Gor Book 34 Page 62
I was then permitted to rise, and run to the cell. I hurried to the wastes pail and put my head over it, sick, but I could not disgorge the liquid. I wanted to put my finger down my throat, to gag it out, but my hands were tied behind me. Paula was already in the cell, her hands, too, tied behind her.
"Do not struggle, dear Phyllis," she said. "Be patient, be grateful. It is for your own good."
"They torture us!" I wept.
"No," she said. "They control us. They are our masters."
"Torture!" I wept.
"No," she said, "it is slave wine."
"What is slave wine?" I asked, tears in my eyes.
"The masters spoke of it," she said. "It is brewed from sip root. It prevents conception. Be pleased you are not a white kajira owned by the red savages of the Barrens, who do not care for white men or white women. There you must chew and swallow the root, raw."
Plunder of Gor Book 34 Pages 69 - 70
It is on your papers that you have been administered slave wine. Excellent.
Plunder of Gor Book 34 Page 77
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