Introduction

 

The kajira's oath:

 

I, <name>, being -- an adult woman, of sound mind and body, free to make decision regarding my own person, without any attempt to deceive or any purpose of evasion, and in return for the financial and other consideration set forth below do hereby AGREE to the following terms of employment, which generally involve submitting to the men of Xor as a slave, also known as a "kajira."

 

Specifically, I SUBMIT myself to the men of Xor by affirming that I:

1)     Will respect, honor, and obey the men of Gor, also known as "masters," without hesitation or question while residing on Xor.

2)     Hereby relinquish all my legal, natural, moral, sexual, and other rights as an individual, a citizen, a resident, and other role except as those rights are stipulated herein.

3)     Accept the ordinary conditions of life as a kajira of Xor including but not limited to -- corporal and other forms of punishment, bondage, nudity, lewd and lascivious acts with men and women, sexual intercourse, and the special conditions associated with being an exclusive and a shared kajira, known as "kajira-E" and "kajira-S" respectively.

4)     Understand that the men of Xor, through their governing Council, may terminate my employment at any time without specific cause or right-to-appeal.

5)     Will never purposely or through careless neglect disclose any information about Xor to anyone outside Xor.

6)     Will forfeit all compensation paid to me during my time on Xor and may suffer severe penalties for damages resulting from all such disclosure.

 

I give this oath and affirm the terms above with the understanding that I have the natural and unalienable right to:

1)     Live, by receiving all the sustenance and support needed to do so from the masters while on Xor.

2)     Health, by never being permanently injured (mentally or physically), permanently marked (without my written consent), or physically scarred.

3)     Terminate this agreement at any time and immediately leave Xor except during times when I am being punished and for one-hour before and after such punishment.

4)     Retain any financial or other compensation earned to the point of termination, whether such termination is initiated by me or by the Council.

5)     Ignore the prohibitions or restrictions of any governments that seeks to deny me the right of self-determination as specified in this agreement.

 

The following article appeared in the Wall Street Journal on May 25, 2025.

 

Dillon Braddock, 37, reclusive founder and CEO of BTS, announces plans to move BTS Development Group from California to the Solomon Islands

 

This morning, Dillon Braddock, the billionaire founder, majority stockholder, and CEO of Braddock Technology Solutions, Inc. (nyse: BTS), announced that the company was moving its software development organization of 12,500 systems designers, engineers, and scientists to the South Pacific islands of Nand and Xor (named by Mr. Braddock after the Boolean-math operations NAND and XOR meaning "false when the same" and "true when different"). The small islands, two of the 935 islands that compose the Solomon Islands, are now wholly owned by BTS.

 

Mr. Braddock's announcement, which he made from his island home on Xor, included a commitment to offer another position in the company to any BTS employee who cannot or does not want to relocate, or to provide a generous severance package. He went on to say that "the creative process at BTS requires extraordinary focus and that Silicon Valley simply has too many deleterious distractions."

 

This announcement follows last year's speculation that Mr. Baddock's 65-foot sailing yacht, the Fantasea, had been lost at sea during a year-long sabbatical he took from the company, which he had described as "necessary to clear my head to face the company's and the industry's future challenges," Apparently, the decisions to move BTS's development groups to the Solomon Islands was made during his sabbatical.

 

Representatives of the government of the Solomon Islands, who were contacted later, said they were "extraordinarily pleased that BTS has selected their country as the new site of BTS's high-tech development." When asked what if any financial and other concessions the government had made, the ambassador to the U.S. said, "the specific details of our arrangement with BTS is confidential, but I can tell you that it gives BTS a high degree of autonomy in governing Nand and Xor in return for a long-term revenue-sharing agreement that will be a major boon to the people of the Solomon Islands in the coming years."

 

There was general agreement among traders and members of the financial press that the two islands purchased by BTS would be largely self-governing. Opinion varied widely, however, as to whether this would be good or bad for the company.

 

BTS stock, which had enjoyed a massive 127% upturn last year when Mr. Baddock's yacht sailed into Kawaihae Harbor, Hawaii suffered a spike down this morning following the announcement to relocate; but the stock has since recovered. BTS software is used by most of the world's major corporations for communications, engineering, and decision support.

 

Chapter One - The Feast In The Great Hall

 

The sounds of rough men filled Xor's Great Hall.

They were not the alpha males their behavior would indicate, he thought. Most of them were life-long betas -- mild-mannered computer nerds who had spent most of their lives in front of a computer screen writing software. They wanted to be alphas though, which is why most of their computer games feature scantily-clad girls and muscular men. The games transformed them from trolls to giants, from nobodies to heroes.

Dillon understood this dynamic better than most. He had been one of them long ago, a mushroom who lived in a dark windowless space and spent 99% of his waking hours writing code. The intense concentration the work demanded allowed him to isolate himself, to control things. This was before his software algorithms made him a fortune; before he used that fortune to build an empire; and before Xor, but still, he could empathize with them. This was the reason he had created Xor and turned it into a Gorean fantasy park -- he wanted his nerds to feel at home.

He scanned the long table's two sides, observing the antics of the rowdy revelers. This is what happens when nerds are set free, he thought -- bedlam. If he and Eric were not here to manage the chaos, they would descend into a Lord-of-the-Flies-like anarchy, which would surely affect their productivity.

He had not created Xor to provide computer nerds with an X-rated Disneyworld; he made it to produce more and better software...the "gold" of our age. Software was now mankind's single most valuable resource. It was worth more than all other world assets combined. It was the foundation on which modern society was built. And he now controlled a huge chunk of it. More importantly, he now produced most of the new transformative code -- the software that changed the way people lived.

He had done it by attracting software geniuses to Xor. Every socially- and emotionally-stunted coder in the world wanted to work here...on Xor. He had his pick of the best and the brightest, and he had done it organically; he had simply allowed his nerds to spread the word.

Of course there had been blips. The Solomon's government had driven a hard bargain to effectively give up their control over their islands. Then there were those nerds who had a strong bond to family and community and couldn't move, but there were less of them than they had estimated. Then there were the women -- he could not structure Xor the way he wanted if he allowed the growing segment of women genius-coders to come to Xor. Maybe one day he could find a way to change that, but for now...

He had modeled Xor on the life-style model defined by John Norman in his Gor novels --a fictional, male-dominated, BDSM-themed world. There were very few mistresses in his world, and they were thinly defined. He just didn't have the bandwidth to accommodate the fantasies of male and female nerds...yet. He was working on it thought.

He glanced up at the rowdy crowd again. Here on Xor, it didn't matter whether you were an alpha male or a beta...if you were a man, you ruled, like on Gor, like in many of the online fantasy games. This released their animal spirits and made them more productive as he knew it would. The thing that had held him back when he was coding, the thing that constrained all nerds was that their fantasy was locked in their minds and in the ether. He had freed it so that their fantasies were now part of the real world, or at least the physical world he had created on Xor.

To stay here, they needed to produce, which they did with a higher volume and quality of software than he had ever imagined. Xor was working well beyond his wildest dreams.

Xor...! He smiled just at the thought of it. Instead of creating a computer game or a simulation, he had created an entirely new world, a real and physical world. Yes, it was small, just one small island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, but it was, well and truly unique...a masterpiece, perhaps his greatest contribution to the world so far.

A girl's scream penetrated the din, shattering his reverie and adding a prescient leitmotif to the celebration. The kajira servers at the feast were often surprised by a man's inappropriate touching or hurt a man's errant pinch or slap. Their reactions created the atmosphere he wanted; they provided the backdrop for the main event.

He glanced up at the stage at the other end of the long hall where three kajira were hanging from a beam -- appropriately called the meat rack. They would be screaming as well if they could, but their hoods prevented them from making noise of any kind. They knew what was coming, though, everyone knew what was coming. The anticipation of it created the vibration in the room, the underlying tension, the emotion that shook everyone to their core.

In the beginning, he had been unsure about how much pain, submission, and humiliation his beta geniuses would tolerate in the female kajirae. Norman's Gor after all was a fantasy -- one in which he could do whatever he wanted to his slave girls, his kajirae, but Xor was no fantasy, it was real and, in the end, it was a business. Too much pain, submission, and humiliation could backfire by chasing nerds away or preventing him from attracting the beauties needed to populate his kajirae ranks.

He needn't have worried. It turned out that no amount was too much for either the masters -- the name he had given the nerds as a group -- or the kajirae -- Norman's name for slavegirls. In fact, he had been forced to set limits that defined how far they could go. The irrational male exuberance and the submissive enthusiasm of the girls was far beyond his imagination. Once unleashed, the animal spirits associated with male dominance and female submission were more extreme than he or anyone had anticipated. John Norman had been right -- Gor was what most men --and women -- secretly wanted, at least, the men and women he targeted and invited.

Which was part of the equation. The men were oversexed and socially inept, and the women were all fantastic beauties, perhaps desperate to make use of their beauty before it faded. He didn't worry much about the psychology of what people were eager to come and why they wanted to push the limits, he was just glad that both were true.

He glanced again at the rough-hewn stage. The three kajirae hanging from the meat rack knew what was coming. Their bondage prevented them from expressing their pain and terror, but he could see it displayed in the way they held themselves, the way they moved, in their involuntary trembling. These reactions were feeding the masters' sadistic lust and the kajiras' worst fears, and both were getting off on it.

It was all about showmanship, he remembered; one of many talents he discovered in his Xor friend and partner. Eric knew that they needed to build tension in the room until it reached a peak then unleash a crescendo of raw and extreme emotion. Dillon had never suspected that Eric had such meanness, such creative sadism in him.

There were three for feast-punishment this week. They each wore skin-tight rubber hoods over their heads and had a wide leather belt keeping their mouths open as if in a perpetual scream. The belt went over the hood to prevent its sharp edges from digging into their tender skin. A high discipline collar around their long, thin necks kept their leather-covered heads high for the audience to see.

They were naked of course which made it easy for the masters in the room to see the red stripes on their bodies. The stripes covered their most sensitive spots -- their tits, asses, and inner thighs -- but they had not been inflicted for punishment. Their punishment stripes were yet to come. Those stripes Roman, Xor's master-at-arms, administered while they were on the meat rack were strictly to enforcement compliance and to prepare them for the ordeal ahead. Eric's specific order was that "no one goes on the frame too numb to feel anything." He didn't want a private jailhouse whipping detracting from the intensity of their caning. He wanted them fresh and vibrant, fully capable of expressing their terror and pain for the larger audience.

Dillon shook his head. Who knew that Eric had this in him?

A third belt held the kajiraes' left ankles to their left thighs to keep them hobbled and on their knees. By securing only one leg, the jailers had easy cane access to the other leg's thigh, calf, and the sole of its foot. The hobbling was hardly necessary, he though, with their wrists manacled and pulled up near their shoulder blades. A silver chain from the back of their neck collars kept their arms painfully positioned behind their back, forcing their tits out. As a final sop to the crowd, a chain from the overhead beam connected to a ring at the top of their hoods. This, in combination with the hobbling, kept their luscious bodies upright and straining at the very front of the stage. It was quite a sight.

He could only imagine the terror they felt...waiting for their caning, stretched by their bondage in front of a randy crowd.

The bondage itself was modeled on the bondage art of Robert Bishop. Eric had researched scores of other artists but kept coming back to Bishop's work. Again, Dillon had thought it too extreme, but again, he had been wrong. The men of Xor loved it. So much so that Dillon had to step in again and affect a balance.

"We need to recruit the world's most beautiful girls as kajira," he had told Eric. "They won't come, and they certainly won't stay if they think we are too extreme, if they think we're crazy sadists. We need to strike a balance between the apparently unlimited sadism of our 'male master class,' and the common sense, life-preserving instincts of our kajirae."

Eric had understood the need for balance and had complied for the most part, but Dillon kept him on a tight leash fearing kajira backlash.

Kajira backlash...

He certainly was no expert on kajira psychology. He had been unable to keep his own kajira, Jordan, in his house. She and her twin, Cassie, who was still Eric's kajira-E, his exclusive kajira, had sailed with them as slaves aboard the Fantasea through the Pacific. Their incredible beauty and the arousal resulting from their consensual enslavement had kept both in a state of erection or semi-erection for a year. Jordan and Cassie had been the inspiration for Xor. But Jordan had finally rebelled against her enslavement, and he had been forced to share her, to make her a kajira-S, a red-tunic girl.

He had thought she would leave the island when he delivered her to the Shared Kajira Dormitory, but she hadn't; she had just accepted the humiliating red tunic worn by all shared kajirae and stayed. He didn't know why. She could have any life she wanted.

The memory filled him with sadness, and he began to search the crowd for her. Shared kajirae were required to attend the feast and serve the food and drink, and of course, to make themselves available for any man too randy to wait for the evening to end. He finally spotted her in her red tunic serving someone beer from a pitcher.

The sight of her drove a spike of pain into his heart. He had other kajira in his house of course, but there was no one like Jordan...no one.