~BRANDING AND COLLARING~
~The Branding Rack~

I ripped the bit of cloth away from her hips and threw her against the rack. I swung shut the two heavy bands and with the two twist handles, tightened them on her thigh. I took her wrists and pulled them forward, to the two posts, some 6 inches apart, part of the branding rack, putting them in the snap bracelets which dangled there, one from each post. These are simple mechanisms. It is quite easy to open and shut them, and it may be done with a snap of the finger, one for each bracelet. As the bracelets are situated, some inches apart, of course, and as the snap is on each bracelet itself, at the wrist, the girl herself cannot get her finger, of either hand, on the mechanism. Others may open them easily; She, on the other hand, is perfectly held. I took again the twist handles. I turned them extremely tightly. "Oh, oh," she
cried. She pulled futilely at the snap bracelets. Then I again turned the twist handles. "Please!" she cried.
"Be quiet," I told her. She bit her lip. I tightened the handles more and put in the locking device, that they might not slip back. Her thigh was absolutely immobile.
"I see you like a left-thigh-branded girl," said Hassan.
The girl can writhe in the rack or squirm, or scream, but the held thigh will not move. It is held for the kiss of the iron.

~The Brandings~

This is performed when a girl is reduced to slavery for the first time, or if she already wears a brand and her new Master wishes to re-brand her. It is common Gorean practice to allow the slave the luxury of screaming, since it is in effect her final act as a free person.

~~The Branding Of Tarna~~
With a heavy glove, Hassan pulled an iron from the brazier. "What do you think of this brand?" he asked. It was the Taharic slave mark. "It is beautiful," I said. "But let us assure ourselves that this will be a common slave, one fit to sell north." "A good idea," said Hassan. He returned the one iron to the brazier and reached for another. It glowed red. It was a fine iron, clean and precise. At it's tip, bright red, was the common Kajira slave mark of Gor. Tarna looked upon it with horror. "It is not yet hot enough, my pretty," said Hassan. He returned it to the brazier. In a few Ehn he removed the iron from the coals, and examined it. He then again replaced it. Shortlythereafter, however, for it must have been almost ready, he drew it forth again. It glowed white. "You may scream and cry out, my pretty," said Hassan, not unkindly.She struggled in the bracelets, she watched the iron. Then she screamed. For five long Ihn Hassan held the iron, pressing it in. I saw it sink in her thigh, smoking and hissing. Then he, cleanly, withdrew it.Tarna was marked.She sobbed, wildly. We did not rebuke her. I freed her thigh of the rack, She fell on her knees at the posts, sobbing. I freed her wrists of the snap bracelets. I lifted her, sobbing, in my arms.
~~The Branding Of Vella~~
I took her to the branding chamber, threw her into the device, and locked it on her thigh. Hassan was there and the iron was already hot. It was the same iron with which he had, the night before, marked the proud Tarna. It had been cleaned, with a solvent. One iron, properly cared for, can mark thousands of women. "No, Master," she said, "please!" "Do you wish to mark her?" asked Hassan. "Yes," I said. I would place the mark on her left thigh, above that of the four bosk horns. It would be the common Gorean female slave mark, fitting for a low girl, such as she, one who had not been fully pleasing. I held up the iron, white hot, for the girl's inspection.
"You will soon be branded, Girl," I told her. "Don't brand me!" she cried. "Please don't brand me!" She wept. Hassan regarded her with interest. "We are now ready," I told her. She looked at me, then at the glowing, white-hot marking surface of the iron. She watched with horror, as it approached her. I held it poised at her thigh.
"Don't!" she cried. "Don't!"
"You are now to be branded, Slave Girl," I told her. "No," she screamed. Then I branded her. For five long Ihn I held the iron, pressing it in. I watched it sink into her thigh, smoking and crackling and hissing.
It was a larger brand than that of the four bosk horns; I made sure it marked her more deeply. We three, Hassan, I and the girl, smelled the marked, burned flesh of her. Then, swiftly, cleanly, I withdrew it. Her head was back. She was screaming and weeping. "A perfect brand," said Hassan. "Perfect!" I was pleased. Such a brand would be envied by the other girls. It would improve the sleek little animal's value.

I removed the locking device, and spun loose the twist handles, releasing her thigh. I freed her of the snap bracelets. I carried her, naked, branded, weeping, to the small cell where I had thrown her tiny garment, to be retrieved later. I put her down on the straw. Her throat was bare, for I had had, the preceeding night, the collar of Ibn Saran removed from her throat.

A possible rendering of the common Kajira brand or Kef, based on the description in Fighting Slave of Gor, book #14...

... a deep mark, a lovely mark, about an inch and a half high and a half of an inch wide... the design was rather floral. it consisted of what seemed to be a straight line, rather severe, with what appeared to be, adjacent to it, to its right, two fronds, curled and graceful.... the straight line is supposed to represent the staff of discipline and the two fronds the beauty of a woman. the significance of the whole, then, would be beauty subject to the staff of discipline...

~~Vella's collaring continues after her branding above -

"Assume the posture of female submission," I told her. She did so, kneeling back on her heels, her arms extended, wrists crossed, her head between them, down. She was weeping.
"Repeat after me," I told her. "I, once Miss Elizabeth Cardwell, of the planet Earth---"
"I, once Miss Elizebeth Cardwell, of the planet Earth---" she said.
"---herewith submit myself, completely and totally, in all things---"
"---herewith submit myself, completely and totally, in all things---"she said.
"---to him who is now known here as Hakim of Tor---"
"---to him who is now known here as Hakim of Tor---" she said.
"---his girl, his slave, an article of his property, his to do with as he pleases---"
"---his girl, his slave, an article of his property, his to do with as he pleases---" she said.
Hassan handed me the collar. It was inscribed 'I am the property of Hakim or Tor'. I showed it to the girl.
She could not read Taharic script. I read it to her. I put it about her neck. I snapped it shut.
"I am yours, Master," I said to the girl.
She looked at me, tears in her eyes, her neck in my locked collar. "I am yours, Master," she said.
"Congratulations on your slave!" said Hassan. "She is lovely meat. Now I must attend to my own slave."
He laughed, and left.
The girl sank to the straw, and looked up at me. Her eyes were soft with tears. She whispered. "I am yours now, Tarl," she said. "You own me. You truely own me."
"What is your name?" I asked.
"What ever Master wishes," she whispered.
"I will call you 'Vella'," I said.
"I am Vella," she said, her head down.