CHAPTER SEVEN
Robert didn’t know for a fact that any of his ancestors had been whipped. He did know that they had been slaves on a sugar plantation, as was the case for virtually everyone on Providencia back in the old days, so the likelihood that one or another had been whipped was extremely high.
That wasn’t the reason he enjoyed whipping these bitches, though. Yes, they were American, though they weren’t rich or they wouldn’t have jumped at the money that Kelly waved in front of their faces to come here. Nor were they all white-this group which had a black girl, a Chinese one and a couple of Hispanics was fairly typical.
Robert simply enjoyed watching them suffer under his lash, seeing their dance of distress, their loss of control, their shrieks and moans, which mimicked what happened during sex. He liked the sense of power, the ability to inflict pain at will (though of course the boss decided on their punishment). And, as a reward for a job well done, the boss would often let him fuck them afterwards, something which he wasn’t permitted to do with the boss’ harem otherwise.
And, to top it off, he was well paid, drawing a salary that was generous by American standards and downright lavish by Providencia standards, where people like him typically worked tending the grounds of luxury hotels or driving tourist shuttles or taxis.
So, he couldn’t complain. Amanda, on the other hand, definitely could. She had been hanging there almost naked, her body stretched out, with only her toes on the floor for at least half an hour while they discussed her punishment, set up and tested the video camera, which Kelly was operating, and just generally enjoying the spectacle.
He could see that she was miserable, continually shifting her weight, trying to ease the discomfort. Her face was fixed in a grimace and small sounds of anguish escaped from her throat every now and then. He imagined that her shoulders were aching and probably her feet were as well.
Not to mention the shame she must be feeling having had her sexual inadequacies discussed in front of the whole group and now having her body displayed. But of course, the distress she was feeling now would be nothing compared to what she would feel when he started to work on her.
Her tits were certainly admirable, large, but firm, capped by dark brown nipples that stood up from her fear. And she was getting six of her lashes on her front which would be enough for him to cover those titties with welts. He certainly hoped that the boss would let him fuck her afterwards.
Finally, the boss looked like he was ready to get the show on the road. “Alright, everyone please take your seat,” he ordered. The girls and he arranged themselves on the chairs that had been laid out near enough to Amanda so that they could enjoy her suffering, but not so close that they would interfere with his swing. “Kelly is the cam all ready?” he asked. She gave the thumbs up.
“Before we begin, Robert, would you show Amanda the instrument of her suffering?” Robert was happy to do so. The whip was his baby and he was proud of it and his skill in wielding it. The wooden handle was kept well oiled and the six hemp cord tails, each almost as long as his arm were disinfected in bleach overnight after each use, then carefully rinsed and dried. Then, just before use, they were doused in water to make them heavier and more supple, the better to deliver the strength of his arm.
Robert approached Amanda. She looked down at her feet, not wanting to look at the fearsome instrument up close. He put two fingers under her chin and raised her head. “Look at it, girl. You had best know what’s coming.” Bravely, Amanda stared at the whip. “Robert is going to make you beg and scream,” he warned her.
Then he backed up to a spot behind Amanda flicking the tails gently against her shoulder blades, so that the tips of the cords, which carried the most force, would impact squarely on her flesh. He saw the girl flinch. “That ain’t nothin’, dearie, compared to when I get started,” he told her. He nodded to the boss that he was ready.
“Pam, would you count the strokes, please?” the boss ordered. The large girl stood up. “You can begin, Robert,” the boss said.
Robert gripped the handle firmly and lifted it. He twirled the cords above his head, then slashed them across Amanda’s shoulder blades. It made a very satisfying crack. “One!” Pam announced.
Amanda twisted as much as she could, her body writhing to absorb the force of the blow and to try to fight the agony that was building. A series of bright red lines arose on her pale skin, darkening as the blood that had been driven from the tissue returned. Soon, they almost glowed under the bright lights that shone down from the ceiling.
Robert waited, waited for the pain to peak and then slowly ebb, waited for the girl’s movements to quiet. He wasn’t in any rush and neither were the crowd. The boss and Kelly had seen plenty of these. Tania and Pam had seen a few, but the new girls looked shocked, never having seen anything like this. He hoped he’d get a chance to whip a few of them and then fuck them, especially the two who had come just today, the one with the big tits, Delia and her friend, Tara.
Finally, Robert was ready. He swung the whip again, striking slightly lower-spread them out for now, he’d have time to come back and hit already damaged skin later. Amanda gyrated wildly. He could see her tits bounce as she twisted her torso. Robert was looking forward to giving those some special care on the final six strokes.
Pam called, “Two!”
***
Tara didn’t want to watch; it was too horrible, but, like rubberneckers driving past a highway wreck, somehow she couldn’t help herself. Besides, even if she shut her eyes tight, she would still hear the whiz of the tails through the air and the crack as they impacted Amanda’s soft girl flesh. She would still hear the sharp intake of breath, the load moans as the pain hit, the count of the strokes and Amanda’s desperate pleas for a mercy that would not be forthcoming.
After six strokes, Amanda’s back was a mass of bright red streaks. There was no blood yet, at least none visible from this distance, but a few of the spots looked awfully close to bleeding.
Tara imagined herself up there suffering. She knew this was a distinct possibility, perhaps even a likely one, since it appeared she and Dee were marooned here for the full week, despite their technically being free to leave. How possible was it that she wouldn’t make some slip up that would result in her hanging from that bar dancing under Robert’s cruel whip?
For that matter, he could have her whipped on a whim, just to please and excite him or one of his guests. He certainly seemed to be enjoying this spectacle. He was literally on the edge of his seat, taking in every twist of Amanda’s nearly naked body as she vainly struggled to elude the blows.
So was Kelly, who was operating the video camera with one hand while her other hand had wandered inside her shorts.
Tara wondered how she would react if and when it was her time on the bar. Would she beg and plead like Amanda or accept the punishment bravely? Perhaps Kelly’s advice to simply submit and “get through it” wasn’t so far wrong. That’s what people like Tara did in life. She had gotten through being raised by a dissolute mother who was a slave in her own way to alcohol and drugs and men.
And even though Tara had, through great efforts on her part, done well and gotten out to a good college, she had still ended up more or less a slave here. And in some ways, it wasn’t all bad. She’d gotten really close with Dee and had an amazing orgasm when Kelly had gone down on her.
After a dozen lashes, Amanda’s upper back was covered with welts. While she wasn’t bleeding profusely, a few red drops were trickling from the most damaged spots.
The doctor called a halt to check the girl out. She ran her gloved hand over the worst of the welts, the mere touch causing Amanda to writhe and groan. ”She’s fine,” the doctor said. “”I’ll check her again after the next six.”
Those next six left Amanda on the edge of unconsciousness, hanging listlessly from the bar. She had barely reacted to the last two. Tara could see the red fluid dripping slowly down Amanda’s back from several spots, staining the skirt that still hung uselessly around her hips.
The doctor came over to check her as promised. She lifted Amanda’s drooping eyelids and shone her penlight into the pupils. She extracted a syringe from her pocket and filled it from a vial. “I’m going to give you a stimulant to wake you up so you can feel the last six as you are supposed to,” she told Amanda, loud enough for Tara to hear.
The doctor pushed the needle into the flesh of Amanda’s buttocks and pressed the plunger. “Give it a few minutes to work,” she told Robert. He sat down, mopping his brow and took a large swig from a water bottle.
It took a few minutes, as the doctor had said, but the shot revived Amanda. Her eyes opened and gazed fruitlessly around the room, looking for someone, anyone, who might spare her the rest of her punishment. The audience, or at least those with any power to decide her fate, were staring at her, uninterested in helping her, either aroused by her suffering or indifferent to it. This was how things were on Pirate Cay-slaves suffered and no one really expected it to be any different.
Seeing that his quarry was awake, Robert rose, took the whip in his hand and came over to the girl. “You turn and face the audience now. They need to see this,” he ordered. Slowly, reluctantly, but without protest, she obeyed.
“Pam, are you ready to count?” Kelly asked, ready to resume filming.
Pam nodded. Robert looked Amanda’s body over. Her sides and the beginnings of her breasts had some stripes from where the cords had wrapped from behind, but most of the skin was still unmarked. That left Robert a wide choice of targets.
He twirled the cords above his head. Amanda stared at them, looking for a chance to dodge the blow. Robert feinted to strike and she twisted, but no stroke came. Then, just as she relaxed, he slashed viciously downwards onto the protruding tit flesh.
Stunned, the newly invigorated Amanda shrieked and gyrated wildly. Robert watched the red lines rise up on the pale skin. “Nineteen!” Pam announced. No rookie was going to beat Robert at his own game.
He waited for her body to come to rest and slashed the next one down onto the inflamed skin he had just whipped, eliciting, if possible an even more frenzied reaction. “Twenty!” Pam called.
“Still four to go, girl,” Robert taunted. For the twenty first, he swung the cords down low and then delivered a forceful uppercut to the very sensitive underside of the girl’s mammaries. Amanda howled, her face screwed up, her sweat-soaked brown hair plastered to her forehead.
For the last three, wanting to end strongly, he delivered hard horizontal slashes across the peaks of Amanda’s breasts. Each one caused her to scream and rise up and down on her stretched feet. By the end, she was bleeding from the right nipple and a few other spots where the tips of the cords had gouged into the soft, ripe flesh. “Twenty four!” Pam announced. “Punishment completed.”
These final savage blows had overcome the effects of the stimulant and Amanda again hung almost motionless from the bar. The only sound in the room was her soft sobbing, all she could muster with her diminished strength.
Robert laid the whip down and bowed. “Thank you, Robert. Well done,” the boss said. “Next time, I’m sure she’ll swallow. Give the doctor an hour or so to care for her and then you can escort her back to her room.”
Robert smiled. That was a signal from the boss that he was free to fuck the girl, which came as welcome news, because punishing her had given him a real hard on.
The doctor came forward with a bottle of alcohol and some sterile sponges. She daubed at the wounded skin. Amanda screamed and gyrated anew as the alcohol worked its way into the inflamed tissue. “It’s for your own good. We don’t want an infection. I have some very good plant extract that will soothe the burning and promote healing back in my clinic,” she told the girl, stroking her head gently to show that she cared.
Kelly went to the control panel and lowered the chain. Amanda sank to the floor, sitting there with her hands over her head, still attached to the bar. The doctor undid the straps, helped her to her feet and slowly walked her to the clinic.
***
Tara and Delia made their way back to their room in stunned silence, both overwhelmed by the spectacle they had just witnessed and by the predicament they found themselves in, unable to leave the island and at serious risk of suffering the same fate.
Tara wondered about Tania and Pam who had been whipped on their previous visit here and yet had returned. Was it just the money that brought them back? Perhaps, but perhaps they also found some comfort in having submitted to such treatment and having come through it.
Back in their room, Tara slipped her sandals off and collapsed on her bed. Delia did the same. “What do we do, Dee?”
Delia shook her head. “We can’t leave until the end of Break, and let’s hope we can leave then. He owns this island and the others do as he tells them. We’re fucked, Tara, figuratively and soon, I’m sure, literally.”
“I know,” Tara replied. “The Two Musketeers, right?” She rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, I wish we had a couple of swords,” Dee replied.
Tara looked over at her friend stretched out on her bed. She thought about lying next to her so they could comfort each other, but her head was still spinning from what she had witnessed. “I’m going to take a shower,” she said.
“Sure,” Delia replied. “I’ll go after you.”
Tara stripped off the little scraps of clothing that passed for an outfit in Kelly’s world and padded into the bathroom. She got under the hot water and washed the stain of the evening’s activities off her skin. She thought about Amanda twisting and howling in her agony and began to cry for her and for herself and for all the poor girls of Pirate Cay.
