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1492

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14. Tuesday, August 16, 1492

Below decks aboard the Santa Maria.

Cristobal Colon returned the following morning, accompanied by several seamen, to the place Diego and Bárbara were being held, chained naked to a timber support column.

“Wake up!” Colon shouted unnecessarily, as he and his followers had hardly made their approach in silence.

Diego watched them warily as they came near. Bárbara recoiled in fear ... remembering how Colon had violated her during the night, and thinking he was returning, along with others, to do more of the same.

“Free him, and get him dressed,” snapped Colon to his men, pointing at Diego as he tossed a bundle of clothing to the deck.

Unshackled and dragged to his feet, Diego self-consciously began to dress, watched by Colon and the burly seamen. The bundle, when opened, contained a pair of pointed leather shoes, a pair of fine hose, a fancifully embroidered linen shirt, and an elegant pleated doublet with puffed out sleeves.

“That outfit is a gift from Countess Beatriz,” remarked Colon drily. “Her Grace has requested your presence this morning, and judging by all that finery, she’s apparently taken a bit of a fancy to you.”

“And wh ... wh ... what about Bárbara?” stammered Diego. “Surely the Countess would want to see her as well?”

“Apparently not. The Countess Beatriz’s tastes do not extend to women ... at least so far as I know ... which is good, because it’s Alonso’s cat, not the Countess, that demands Bárbara’s presence. Indeed, Diego, I’ve ordered your little whore flogged on deck at noon today. She’s due for 18 strokes, if memory serves me well. Pity you won’t be here to see her dance to the music of the lash.”

Diego clenched his fists and looked as though he might charge at Colon, but was dissuaded by the fact that two seamen had stepped up to block his path.

“Be off with you, then, Diego,” growled Colon, waving his hand dismissively and nodding to the seamen, who quickly took Diego in hand.

“And as for you, my sweet little tart,” he said to Bárbara. “You’ve got a few hours to think about the bite of Alonso’s cat.”

The Boudoir of Beatriz de Babadilla y Ossario, Countess of La Gomera.

“Enter,” she said huskily in response to her steward’s gentle rap on the door.

He entered, bowed and solemnly intoned, “Diego de Arna here to see you as requested, Your Grace.”

Diego entered and was immediately taken aback by the splendor of his surroundings ... damask and silk trappings everywhere, frescos of nudes cavorting and copulating on the ceiling, and the Countess herself reclining against a mountain of pillows at the head of an over-sized, oval-shaped bed. She was wearing a nearly sheer nightgown that left precious little to the imagination.

“Thank you for the generous gift of fine clothing,” he said, unable to think of what else to say.

“Only a man like yourself could possibly look so absolutely dashing wearing them,” she breathed throatily as she opened the front of her gown to reveal her voluminous breasts. “Do come join me.”

He hesitated. “What is it that you wish to speak to me about, Your Grace? I have been hoping it’s that you have decided to pardon me and Bárbara Morales. Surely you have come to the obvious conclusion that the Governor’s decision to have us executed was unjust. Am I right?”

“Come join me,” she repeated, shedding her gown completely, crawling forward and reaching out to guide him closer ... whereupon she promptly slipped the waist belt from his doublet, dipped her hand beneath it and down into his breeches to take hold of his cock.

“But ...,” was all he could manage in response, as she ... with amazing speed and agility ... spun him around, lifted and dumped him onto his back in the middle of the bed. Moments later she was peeling away his breeches, taking his member in her mouth and vigorously stroking its base. And soon after, she had set herself astride him, inserted him into her very wet and wide-open pussy, and was calling on him to fondle and kiss her tits.

Not knowing what else to do, he complied, hoping she would satisfy her lust quickly. It was not to be, however, for she seemed insatiable ... one orgasm followed another ... and then another ... and then ... after awhile he lost track.

When at last, it was over, she collapsed blissfully on the bed alongside him.

“You were everything I imagined, and more!” she cooed. “I knew from the moment I saw you standing up there, naked on that scaffolding, I had to have you.”

There was a knock on the door ... the steward again.

“What is it?” she snapped, irritably.

“The Bishop, Your Grace. He wishes to see you.”

“Tell him not today.”

“Yes, Your Grace.

“Awful man,” she whispered, turning to Diego and running her fingers through the hair on his chest.

“Now, about me and Bárbara Morales,” he said.

“Mmmmmm ... later,” she purred, raising herself up on one elbow, and burying his face in the soft fleshiness of her breast. “I want more!”

High Noon, main deck of the Santa Maria


Flogged Naked.jpg

Bárbara tugged at the shackles that held her arms and wrists high over her head. They had strung her up near the ship’s railing so that her flogging could be witnessed by a growing crowd of curious onlookers down on the quay as well as by the combined crews of Santa Maria, La Pinta and La Niña, assembled on deck. She was naked.

Tugging.jpg

Standing directly behind her, thoughtfully dipping his cat in a bucket of brine, was Alonso Chocero. Off to one side stood Cristobal Colon, arms folded across his chest. Flanking him on either side were his two expeditionary associates and frequent companions, Juan de la Cosa and Rodrigo de Escobedo. Nearby, his personal servant, Diego de Salcedo, held a piece of dark slate and a piece of chalk to record the count.

In the absence of the carrack’s man-at-arms, Diego de Arana, it was Cristobal Colon himself who gave the command, “Proceed! Eighteen lashes, pauses on the sixes.”

It begins.jpg

After careful consideration, Alonso had decided to begin less deliberately this time. Rather than a series of carefully targeted and timed strokes, he began with a wild, rapid-fire fusillade of six, all delivered from the same direction and at the same target ... the effect of which was for each successive lash to grab, pull and tear at her torso with such force as to spin her completely around.

Lashed.jpg

By the time of the first pause she hung breathless and reeling from the relentless assault ... ribs, breasts, back and tummy scored and inflamed by the sharp bites of the cat’s many knotted ends.

First Pause.jpg

They threw a bucket of brine over her and gave her a little time to regroup before continuing on with the next six, which Alonso delivered more slowly and deliberately, punishing her tight little quivering behind with three, the back side of her thighs just below the crease where they met her buttocks for a fourth, high across the shoulder blades with the fifth, and a sixth drawn across her shoulders and the back of her neck.

Punished.jpg

She responded to these differently than the first six, which had elicited a simple long drawn out howl. To these, she responded with a string of grunts, curses and screams, and then shuddered and shook uncontrollably when a second bucket of brine was dumped over head at the pause.

Shuddering.jpg

Alonso’s plan for the last six was to focus on flogging her front side, to flail away at breasts, tummy and that sensitive area between the legs as a final statement. Somehow sensing his intent, she began to scrabble frantically with her feet, twisting about wildly in an effort to keep her back to him as he attempted to circle around her.

It became almost like a game of cat and mouse ... a kind of two-person dance, replete with feints, retreats, sidesteps and rapid advances. And it turned out to be a crowd pleaser ... with seamen, and even the crowd below, shouting out warnings and advice to both adversaries.

But it was also a game she could not win, and each of the six strokes eventually found its intended mark ... with the very last one being the most effective and cruel.

Most Cruel.jpg


TO BE CONTINUED
 
Last edited:
with the very last one being the most effective and cruel.
No doubt exhausted and out of her mind from the previous 17 strokes of the vicious and angry 'cat' that final stroke split her swollen labia and sliced into her naturally distended clit ... how damn erotic!

Great chapter Barb ... I love how you make our ill-fated heroine suffer!
 
14. Tuesday, August 16, 1492

Below decks aboard the Santa Maria.

Cristobal Colon returned the following morning, accompanied by several seamen, to the place Diego and Bárbara were being held, chained naked to a timber support column.

“Wake up!” Colon shouted unnecessarily, as he and his followers had hardly made their approach in silence.

Diego watched them warily as they came near. Bárbara recoiled in fear ... remembering how Colon had violated her during the night, and thinking he was returning, along with others, to do more of the same.

“Free him, and get him dressed,” snapped Colon to his men, pointing at Diego as he tossed a bundle of clothing to the deck.

Unshackled and dragged to his feet, Diego self-consciously began to dress, watched by Colon and the burly seamen. The bundle, when opened, contained a pair of pointed leather shoes, a pair of fine hose, a fancifully embroidered linen shirt, and an elegant pleated doublet with puffed out sleeves.

“That outfit is a gift from Countess Beatriz,” remarked Colon drily. “Her Grace has requested your presence this morning, and judging by all that finery, she’s apparently taken a bit of a fancy to you.”

“And wh ... wh ... what about Bárbara?” stammered Diego. “Surely the Countess would want to see her as well?”

“Apparently not. The Countess Beatriz’s tastes do not extend to women ... at least so far as I know ... which is good, because it’s Alonso’s cat, not the Countess, that demands Bárbara’s presence. Indeed, Diego, I’ve ordered your little whore flogged on deck at noon today. She’s due for 18 strokes, if memory serves me well. Pity you won’t be here to see her dance to the music of the lash.”

Diego clenched his fists and looked as though he might charge at Colon, but was dissuaded by the fact that two seamen had stepped up to block his path.

“Be off with you, then, Diego,” growled Colon, waving his hand dismissively and nodding to the seamen, who quickly took Diego in hand.

“And as for you, my sweet little tart,” he said to Bárbara. “You’ve got a few hours to think about the bite of Alonso’s cat.”

The Boudoir of Beatriz de Babadilla y Ossario, Countess of La Gomera.

“Enter,” she said huskily in response to her steward’s gentle rap on the door.

He entered, bowed and solemnly intoned, “Diego de Arna here to see you as requested, Your Grace.”

Diego entered and was immediately taken aback by the splendor of his surroundings ... damask and silk trappings everywhere, frescos of nudes cavorting and copulating on the ceiling, and the Countess herself reclining against a mountain of pillows at the head of an over-sized, oval-shaped bed. She was wearing a nearly sheer nightgown that left precious little to the imagination.

“Thank you for the generous gift of fine clothing,” he said, unable to think of what else to say.

“Only a man like yourself could possibly look so absolutely dashing wearing them,” she breathed throatily as she opened the front of her gown to reveal her voluminous breasts. “Do come join me.”

He hesitated. “What is it that you wish to speak to me about, Your Grace? I have been hoping it’s that you have decided to pardon me and Bárbara Morales. Surely you have come to the obvious conclusion that the Governor’s decision to have us executed was unjust. Am I right?”

“Come join me,” she repeated, shedding her gown completely, crawling forward and reaching out to guide him closer ... whereupon she promptly slipped the waist belt from his doublet, dipped her hand beneath it and down into his breeches to take hold of his cock.

“But ...,” was all he could manage in response, as she ... with amazing speed and agility ... spun him around, lifted and dumped him onto his back in the middle of the bed. Moments later she was peeling away his breeches, taking his member in her mouth and vigorously stroking its base. And soon after, she had set herself astride him, inserted him into her very wet and wide-open pussy, and was calling on him to fondle and kiss her tits.

Not knowing what else to do, he complied, hoping she would satisfy her lust quickly. It was not to be, however, for she seemed insatiable ... one orgasm followed another ... and then another ... and then ... after awhile he lost track.

When at last, it was over, she collapsed blissfully on the bed alongside him.

“You were everything I imagined, and more!” she cooed. “I knew from the moment I saw you standing up there, naked on that scaffolding, I had to have you.”

There was a knock on the door ... the steward again.

“What is it?” she snapped, irritably.

“The Bishop, Your Grace. He wishes to see you.”

“Tell him not today.”

“Yes, Your Grace.

“Awful man,” she whispered, turning to Diego and running her fingers through the hair on his chest.

“Now, about me and Bárbara Morales,” he said.

“Mmmmmm ... later,” she purred, raising herself up on one elbow, and burying his face in the soft fleshiness of her breast. “I want more!”

High Noon, main deck of the Santa Maria

Bárbara tugged at the shackles that held her arms and wrists high over her head. They had strung her up near the ship’s railing so that her flogging could be witnessed by a growing crowd of curious onlookers down on the quay as well as by the combined crews of Santa Maria, La Pinta and La Niña, assembled on deck. She was naked.

Standing directly behind her, thoughtfully dipping his cat in a bucket of brine, was Alonso Chocero. Off to one side stood Cristobal Colon, arms folded across his chest. Flanking him on either side were his two expeditionary associates and frequent companions, Juan de la Cosa and Rodrigo de Escobedo. Nearby, his personal servant, Diego de Salcedo, held a piece of dark slate and a piece of chalk to record the count.

In the absence of the carrack’s man-at-arms, Diego de Arana, it was Cristobal Colon himself who gave the command, “Proceed! Eighteen lashes, pauses on the sixes.”

After careful consideration, Alonso had decided to begin less deliberately this time. Rather than a series of carefully targeted and timed strokes, he began with a wild, rapid-fire fusillade of six, all delivered from the same direction and at the same target ... the effect of which was for each successive lash to grab, pull and tear at her torso with such force as to spin her completely around.

By the time of the first pause she hung breathless and reeling from the relentless assault ... ribs, breasts, back and tummy scored and inflamed by the sharp bites of the cat’s many knotted ends.

They threw a bucket of brine over her and gave her a little time to regroup before continuing on with the next six, which Alonso delivered more slowly and deliberately, punishing her tight little quivering behind with three, the back side of her thighs just below the crease where they met her buttocks for a fourth, high across the shoulder blades with the fifth, and a sixth drawn across her shoulders and the back of her neck.

She responded to these differently than the first six, which had elicited a simple long drawn out howl. To these, she responded with a string of grunts, curses and screams, and then shuddered and shook uncontrollably when a second bucket of brine was dumped over head at the pause.

Alonso’s plan for the last six was to focus on flogging her front side, to flail away at breasts, tummy and that sensitive area between the legs as a final statement. Somehow sensing his intent, she began to scrabble frantically with her feet, twisting about wildly in an effort to keep her back to him as he attempted to circle around her.

It became almost like a game of cat and mouse ... a kind of two-person dance, replete with feints, retreats, sidesteps and rapid advances. And it turned out to be a crowd pleaser ... with seamen, and even the crowd below, shouting out warnings and advice to both adversaries.

But it was also a game she could not win, and each of the six strokes eventually found its intended mark ... with the very last one being the most effective and cruel.


TO BE CONTINUED

Watch out for the last bucket of brine Barb..... THAT one is REALLY going to sting :crybaby2:
 
the next six, which Alonso delivered more slowly and deliberately, punishing her tight little quivering behind with three, the back side of her thighs just below the crease where they met her buttocks for a fourth, high across the shoulder blades with the fifth, and a sixth drawn across her shoulders and the back of her neck ...
 

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  • Punished.jpg
    Punished.jpg
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No doubt exhausted and out of her mind from the previous 17 strokes of the vicious and angry 'cat' that final stroke split her swollen labia and sliced into her naturally distended clit ... how damn erotic!

Great chapter Barb ... I love how you make our ill-fated heroine suffer!

A cat bites a pussy....you probably don't see the humor in this right now but maybe someday....or not...
 
Another finely written chapter, Barb.
for she seemed insatiable ... one orgasm followed another ... and then another ... and then ... after awhile he lost track.
Is it just me? Or does it seem the females in this story are all modeled after a certain young lady's promiscuous and insatiable appetite for sex?
But it was also a game she could not win, and each of the six strokes eventually found its intended mark ... with the very last one being the most effective and cruel.
Very nicely done whipping scene, arousing and cruel without endless repetition.
 
Very nicely done whipping scene, arousing and cruel without endless repetition

Thanks for saying, PrPr. Endless repetition is something I work hard to avoid. My readers have plenty of imagination in that regard, so I like to leave that to them. ;)
 
The whip strikes again on Barb Morales!:eek:

“Come join me,” she repeated, shedding her gown completely, crawling forward and reaching out to guide him closer ... whereupon she promptly slipped the waist belt from his doublet, dipped her hand beneath it and down into his breeches to take hold of his cock.

“But ...,” was all he could manage in response, as she ... with amazing speed and agility ... spun him around, lifted and dumped him onto his back in the middle of the bed. Moments later she was peeling away his breeches, taking his member in her mouth and vigorously stroking its base. And soon after, she had set herself astride him, inserted him into her very wet and wide-open pussy, and was calling on him to fondle and kiss her tits.

Not knowing what else to do, he complied, hoping she would satisfy her lust quickly. It was not to be, however, for she seemed insatiable ... one orgasm followed another ... and then another ... and then ... after awhile he lost track.
And 'La Cazadora' strikes again in bed!:tits:
 
Bárbara tugged at the shackles that held her arms and wrists … She was naked
They had strung her up near the ship’s railing so that her flogging could be witnessed by a growing crowd of curious onlookers down on the quay as well as by the combined crews of Santa Maria, La Pinta and La Niña ...
After careful consideration, Alonso had decided to begin less deliberately this time ...
he began with a wild, rapid-fire fusillade of six, all delivered from the same direction and at the same target ...
By the time of the first pause she hung breathless and reeling from the relentless assault ...
the next six, which Alonso delivered more slowly and deliberately, punishing her tight little quivering behind with three, the back side of her thighs just below the crease where they met her buttocks for a fourth, high across the shoulder blades with the fifth, and a sixth drawn across her shoulders and the back of her neck ...
she responded with a string of grunts, curses and screams, and then shuddered and shook uncontrollably ...
with the very last one being the most effective and cruel ...

Complete set inserted now. Thanks Fossy. :popcorn:
 
14. Tuesday, August 16, 1492

Below decks aboard the Santa Maria.

Cristobal Colon returned the following morning, accompanied by several seamen, to the place Diego and Bárbara were being held, chained naked to a timber support column.

“Wake up!” Colon shouted unnecessarily, as he and his followers had hardly made their approach in silence.

Diego watched them warily as they came near. Bárbara recoiled in fear ... remembering how Colon had violated her during the night, and thinking he was returning, along with others, to do more of the same.

“Free him, and get him dressed,” snapped Colon to his men, pointing at Diego as he tossed a bundle of clothing to the deck.

Unshackled and dragged to his feet, Diego self-consciously began to dress, watched by Colon and the burly seamen. The bundle, when opened, contained a pair of pointed leather shoes, a pair of fine hose, a fancifully embroidered linen shirt, and an elegant pleated doublet with puffed out sleeves.

“That outfit is a gift from Countess Beatriz,” remarked Colon drily. “Her Grace has requested your presence this morning, and judging by all that finery, she’s apparently taken a bit of a fancy to you.”

“And wh ... wh ... what about Bárbara?” stammered Diego. “Surely the Countess would want to see her as well?”

“Apparently not. The Countess Beatriz’s tastes do not extend to women ... at least so far as I know ... which is good, because it’s Alonso’s cat, not the Countess, that demands Bárbara’s presence. Indeed, Diego, I’ve ordered your little whore flogged on deck at noon today. She’s due for 18 strokes, if memory serves me well. Pity you won’t be here to see her dance to the music of the lash.”

Diego clenched his fists and looked as though he might charge at Colon, but was dissuaded by the fact that two seamen had stepped up to block his path.

“Be off with you, then, Diego,” growled Colon, waving his hand dismissively and nodding to the seamen, who quickly took Diego in hand.

“And as for you, my sweet little tart,” he said to Bárbara. “You’ve got a few hours to think about the bite of Alonso’s cat.”

The Boudoir of Beatriz de Babadilla y Ossario, Countess of La Gomera.

“Enter,” she said huskily in response to her steward’s gentle rap on the door.

He entered, bowed and solemnly intoned, “Diego de Arna here to see you as requested, Your Grace.”

Diego entered and was immediately taken aback by the splendor of his surroundings ... damask and silk trappings everywhere, frescos of nudes cavorting and copulating on the ceiling, and the Countess herself reclining against a mountain of pillows at the head of an over-sized, oval-shaped bed. She was wearing a nearly sheer nightgown that left precious little to the imagination.

“Thank you for the generous gift of fine clothing,” he said, unable to think of what else to say.

“Only a man like yourself could possibly look so absolutely dashing wearing them,” she breathed throatily as she opened the front of her gown to reveal her voluminous breasts. “Do come join me.”

He hesitated. “What is it that you wish to speak to me about, Your Grace? I have been hoping it’s that you have decided to pardon me and Bárbara Morales. Surely you have come to the obvious conclusion that the Governor’s decision to have us executed was unjust. Am I right?”

“Come join me,” she repeated, shedding her gown completely, crawling forward and reaching out to guide him closer ... whereupon she promptly slipped the waist belt from his doublet, dipped her hand beneath it and down into his breeches to take hold of his cock.

“But ...,” was all he could manage in response, as she ... with amazing speed and agility ... spun him around, lifted and dumped him onto his back in the middle of the bed. Moments later she was peeling away his breeches, taking his member in her mouth and vigorously stroking its base. And soon after, she had set herself astride him, inserted him into her very wet and wide-open pussy, and was calling on him to fondle and kiss her tits.

Not knowing what else to do, he complied, hoping she would satisfy her lust quickly. It was not to be, however, for she seemed insatiable ... one orgasm followed another ... and then another ... and then ... after awhile he lost track.

When at last, it was over, she collapsed blissfully on the bed alongside him.

“You were everything I imagined, and more!” she cooed. “I knew from the moment I saw you standing up there, naked on that scaffolding, I had to have you.”

There was a knock on the door ... the steward again.

“What is it?” she snapped, irritably.

“The Bishop, Your Grace. He wishes to see you.”

“Tell him not today.”

“Yes, Your Grace.

“Awful man,” she whispered, turning to Diego and running her fingers through the hair on his chest.

“Now, about me and Bárbara Morales,” he said.

“Mmmmmm ... later,” she purred, raising herself up on one elbow, and burying his face in the soft fleshiness of her breast. “I want more!”

High Noon, main deck of the Santa Maria


View attachment 766382

Bárbara tugged at the shackles that held her arms and wrists high over her head. They had strung her up near the ship’s railing so that her flogging could be witnessed by a growing crowd of curious onlookers down on the quay as well as by the combined crews of Santa Maria, La Pinta and La Niña, assembled on deck. She was naked.

View attachment 766383

Standing directly behind her, thoughtfully dipping his cat in a bucket of brine, was Alonso Chocero. Off to one side stood Cristobal Colon, arms folded across his chest. Flanking him on either side were his two expeditionary associates and frequent companions, Juan de la Cosa and Rodrigo de Escobedo. Nearby, his personal servant, Diego de Salcedo, held a piece of dark slate and a piece of chalk to record the count.

In the absence of the carrack’s man-at-arms, Diego de Arana, it was Cristobal Colon himself who gave the command, “Proceed! Eighteen lashes, pauses on the sixes.”

View attachment 766381

After careful consideration, Alonso had decided to begin less deliberately this time. Rather than a series of carefully targeted and timed strokes, he began with a wild, rapid-fire fusillade of six, all delivered from the same direction and at the same target ... the effect of which was for each successive lash to grab, pull and tear at her torso with such force as to spin her completely around.

View attachment 766380

By the time of the first pause she hung breathless and reeling from the relentless assault ... ribs, breasts, back and tummy scored and inflamed by the sharp bites of the cat’s many knotted ends.

View attachment 766379

They threw a bucket of brine over her and gave her a little time to regroup before continuing on with the next six, which Alonso delivered more slowly and deliberately, punishing her tight little quivering behind with three, the back side of her thighs just below the crease where they met her buttocks for a fourth, high across the shoulder blades with the fifth, and a sixth drawn across her shoulders and the back of her neck.

View attachment 766378

She responded to these differently than the first six, which had elicited a simple long drawn out howl. To these, she responded with a string of grunts, curses and screams, and then shuddered and shook uncontrollably when a second bucket of brine was dumped over head at the pause.

View attachment 766377

Alonso’s plan for the last six was to focus on flogging her front side, to flail away at breasts, tummy and that sensitive area between the legs as a final statement. Somehow sensing his intent, she began to scrabble frantically with her feet, twisting about wildly in an effort to keep her back to him as he attempted to circle around her.

It became almost like a game of cat and mouse ... a kind of two-person dance, replete with feints, retreats, sidesteps and rapid advances. And it turned out to be a crowd pleaser ... with seamen, and even the crowd below, shouting out warnings and advice to both adversaries.

But it was also a game she could not win, and each of the six strokes eventually found its intended mark ... with the very last one being the most effective and cruel.

View attachment 766376


TO BE CONTINUED
Beatriz shagged and Barb flogged? :mad::mad::mad::mad::mad::mad::mad:
 
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