Chapter 5
Ensign Lacey stared sadly over the ocean as the rising sun tinged it the shade of beaten copper. The triangular silhouettes of the native boats notched the horizon. Would one of those take him to a life of slavery in an unknown place?
The physical pain of his mutilation had subsided to a dull, throbbing ache, rivalled now by the pain of his sunburn! The mental pain was indescribable! The horror of what had been done to him was only starting to sink in. He was a gelding! He would never be able to go with a girl. Worse, it seemed likely that he would have to submit to disgusting, unnatural practices. He had seen how Lady Barbara, the unreachable object of his desires, had been made to submit to unspeakable things. In full view of slaves and slavers.
An anguished cry made him look down the beach. “Why can’t he just die?” He thought to himself. He was a sailor from the ship who had bitten a slaver who tried to make him take his penis in his mouth, just as Lady Barbara was forced to do. The slaves were all forced to watch as he was impaled on a thick stake planted on the beach. He had been there all night, screaming his agony as the rough wood slowly penetrated his vitals. The slavers were determined to keep him alive as long as possible, giving him water at regular intervals. They did not stop the crabs from stripping the flesh off his feet, however.
His eyes were drawn to four figures walking down to the sea. Fatima, Lady Barbara’s maid, Miss Prudence and a striking black girl. The fourth figure was clad in an all enveloping garment with only a narrow slit for the wearer to see through. He looked with lust at the three naked women. Miss Prudence was badly sunburnt, her skin a flaming red. Her heavy breasts bounced as she walked. He longed to touch them. He looked down at the stub of his cock, tears welling up.
The fourth figure shucked the robe as it reached the water. Lady Barbara! He devoured the creamy skinned figure with his eyes as she entered the water with the others, watched as they washed each other, intimately. Then Lady Barbara emerged from the water, a vision of Venus, only to hide herself under the shapeless robe.
“Look all you like, youngster.” The sailor chained next to him in the coffle said, not unkindly. “That’s all we can do now, being gelded. How long do you think it will be before one of these black baboons shoves his cock into your arse? Or mine, come to that?”
“Must say, her ladyship wasn’t too proud to take his cock in her mouth. Not many Pompey whores who do that! And then only if you fill them with gin!” Lacey shuddered, disgusted at the thought of what lay ahead. His eyes were drawn to the black girl. She was proud in her nakedness, flaunting her body in front of the helpless slaves. Even though the steel collar at her throat advertised her own slave status.
Moto looked at the man on the stake, grateful for the burqa that hid her. His mouth was open in a rictus of agony, his hands bound behind his back. His feet, largely fleshless now, still scrabbling at the rough wood of the stake that was tearing into his body. His feet dislodged the crabs climbing up the stake, huge brutes, some as big as a man’s head. She retched dryly.
Last night her master had demanded the use of her mouth. She had taken the tip between her lips, kissing it as she had her husband’s. Fatima’s voice had been chilling. “Don’t play with it, girl! Take it deep! All of it!” Firm pressure on the back of her head forced the shaft deep into the mouth, until she choked and gagged. The black girl, Yasmina, made a disparaging sound with her tongue.
Try as she might, she could get no more than half his length into her throat without gagging. Fatima gave advice and applied pressure to her head, to no avail. Then the cock in her mouth pulsed and salty slime gushed into the throat. Choking, she pulled back, half spitting, half vomiting the stuff from her mouth. She knelt, gasping for breath, unaware of the reaction of the others. Yasmina looked at her in alarm, shocked, horrified by what she had done. Fatima said softly, “Oh shit, girl. You’re for it now! A slave never, never rejects her master’s gift.” Salim’s face was dark with anger. “You will suffer for this. You!”, he pointed at Fatima and Yasmina, “tomorrow you will take her to my men. She will practice until she can take my full length. If she fails, she will join that fool on a stake!”
Fatima led Barbara to where the slavers were eating their breakfast. She explained the task ahead of them. There were evil smiles and nudges as the first slaver stepped forward. Fatima unlaced the panel of the burqa that covered Barbara’s mouth, and her training began.
Several hours later Barbara was exhausted, her jaw cramped, her belly churning with the amount of semen she had swallowed. She had managed to take all of the last six cocks presented to her. She had swallowed the slimy product without spilling a drop. Another slaver stepped forward. The men exchanged knowing grins. He was gross, his belly wobbling as he walked. Yasmina’s smile dripped with malice. The man lifted his robe, revealing thighs like tree trunks. “Oh my God! No! It is not possible!” Barbara croaked as she saw what awaited her. The cock was as long and as thick as her forearm, black, veined, the circumcised head bulbous. Yasmina guided the thing to Barbara’s lips. She said something unintelligible. Fatima translated, “All of it, white bitch, all of it.”
Barbara thought she was going to die. She couldn’t breathe. Her jaw seemed about to dislocate. Her eyes crossed as she stared at the length of ebony cock still to go into her throat. “Deeper!” Fatima’s voice. Slowly, slowly it found its way into her, until she felt the coarse hair against her nose. Her throat convulsed, cramped, she was going to die. There was an explosion of hot, salty slime, not in her mouth, deep in her throat, beyond swallowing. It flowed straight into her stomach. Everything went black.
When she came to Fatima was closing the panel across her mouth. She had taken more than twenty men, none of whom had seen more of her that her lips and her tongue. The pleasure of seeing her body would come later.
On rubbery legs she followed the other three women back to her master’s tent. Prudence was in deep shock. She knew that a similar ordeal awaited her. She was a virgin in all ways.
In the shade of the tent the burqa was removed, its purpose purely to shield delicate skin from the sun. Salim nodded as Yasmina reported to him. He nodded, then handed her two strips of thick leather, each attached to a handle. The one was about two feet long and six inches wide. The other the same length but only just more than an inch wide. Yasmina smiled broadly as she was given the implements. She spat words into Barbara’s face. Fatima translated. “These are for you, witch! This,” she held up the wider one, “is for those milky tits. Thirty strokes on each one! With this,” The narrower one was offered, “I will have the great pleasure of whipping your witch cunt! Fifty strokes.”
The slaves were collected to witness the punishment. Barbara’s hands were bound behind her back. Two men held her arms. She watched the naked girl, for the first time appreciating the strength of muscle in her arms and shoulders. The hate in her eyes.
The girl swung hard! The thick, stiff leather impacting on a petite, creamy breast. The forest echoed to the screams of agony. That was the first stroke!
(To be continued)
Twenty!!!!!
Too many!
Yuck!
And then punished too? Unfair!!!
Need I read more?