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Fossy

Executioner
Her chemise, now laden with water, hung even lower and more precariously than before from her hips … Sputtering and shaking, Bárbara tried vainly to steady herself … As for the other onlookers ... the leering seamen ... she knew that she could expect not an ounce of sympathy … So she decided, then and there, she would stand tall and bravely face the cat.
 

Attachments

Harsh Martinet

Governor
3.

On hearing the master-at-arms, Diego de Ariana’s command to begin, Alonso Chocaro, the brawny seaman assigned to carry out the flogging of Bárbara Morales, moved quickly to take up position behind and slightly to the left of the suspended young woman.

Alonso was a brute of a man, stockily built and barrel-chested. Administrating corrective punishment was one of the duties he was often called upon to perform, especially when the infraction called for a flogging with the dreaded ‘gato de nueve colas’, an instrument with which he was known to be particularly skilled.

This time, however, promised to be different. Alonso was accustomed to laying the lash on the broad and muscular, weathered hides of able-bodied seamen. But bared before him was the small and delicate, soft-skinned, back of a woman, and he needed to consider how best to lay on so many as the called for thirty strokes.

So he took his time, standing at the ready, absentmindedly dipping the tails of the cat in the brine bucket as he contemplated the task before him.

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He observed that her arms were raised high, which he deemed good in that it allowed lashes to be laid high on her shoulders, even as high as the nape of the neck.

Then there was the broad part of her back below, and his eye was quick to detect the inviting swell of her upraised left breast just visible from where he stood. That globe of soft and pliable feminine flesh, as well as its twin on the opposite side, would warrant considerable attention as he knew it would react to the stinging bite of the knotted tips of the cat’s tails in ways sure to earn him the appreciation of his fellow seamen.

Below that, the lines of her ribs etched on tightly stretched skin defined the rest of the targetable space before her back tapered sharply down to the hollow at her slim waist. Her waist again offered significant wrap-around opportunity. Indeed, a thin self-satisfied grin stretched across his lips as he imagined the cat’s tails snapping and tearing at her tautened belly.

Below the hollow of her back, only the tops of her hips were exposed, offering precious little at which to strike. But he told himself, with some confidence, that the tattered remains of the chemise gathered precariously at the young woman’s narrow hips, were quite likely to fall away long before her flogging was over, which was sure to offer the cat some new and exciting possibilities.

Annoyed at the delay, and conscious of a growing restlessness among the throng of seamen in attendance, Diego de Arana cleared his throat to capture Alonso’s attention and gestured with his eyes. When the seaman continued to hesitate, Diego repeated the command, “when you are ready,” but with an authoritative sharpness that was absent the first time.

But in Diego’s mind, an added annoyance that went beyond Alonso’s deliberateness, was the fact that the more Diego stared at Bárbara Morales’ half-naked body ... stretched to the limit, pale skin glistening under a sheen of sea spray, chest rising and falling, nipples hardened by a bracing morning sea breeze and floating haughtily on pink, perfectly circular areoles ... the more he wanted to call the whole thing off, rush forward and take her in his arms. Moreover, he was profoundly moved by the terror he could see in her eyes.

For Bárbara, the waiting only heightened the tension, dread, humiliation, and misery. Maintaining her footing, with only her toes touching a slippery and constantly pitching deck was exhausting. And she shivered as her body was buffeted by gusts of wind and sea spray. Repeatedly, she had to shake her sodden windblown hair from her eyes. And Alonso’s unseen, menacing presence behind her back was unnerving. She tried, but found it difficult, if not impossible, to turn her head enough to see around her raised arms to determine why the big seaman wielding the cat was taking so long to begin.

Before her, she noted the impatience showing in Diego’s eyes. Was the seaman with the cat having second thoughts? Perhaps defiantly refusing silently to flog a woman? And if so, what would become of that?

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But the answer came swiftly enough as a powerful blow of wet leather suddenly broke across her lower back, driving her forward with such force that her feet left the decking altogether and her head flew back between her outstretched arms. The cat’s knotted tails dug at her midriff and wrenched her torso sideways. She cried out as the whip was withdrawn.


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Before she could right herself and purchase footing on the wet deck, a second lash struck her side at the ribs, the wrap-around flaying at the soft underside of her right breast. She groaned through gritted teeth while glancing down to assess the visible damage ... a flurry of thin welts drawn across belly, ribs and breast, which stung as salt spray and brine assaulted the small cuts and abrasions.

Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she heard someone count, “two”.

Diego blinked as he witnessed the opening two strokes inflicted in quick succession, and with force, against Bárbara’s right side. And he found himself sucking in breath as she righted herself, found her footing and absorbed two fresh strikes delivered diagonally across her back, again with enough force to drive her forward and off her feet.

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This time she screamed and howled, and shook her head wildly from side-to-side, before settling down to await the next fusillade ... breasts bobbing back and forth as she attempted repeatedly to look warily back at Alonso, who had taken pause to dip the tails of the cat in the brine bucket.

‘Two more to go, my lovely one, before the six-stroke break ... be strong,’ Diego said silently to himself while fixing an impassive expression on his face to hide the inner turmoil he was experiencing.

Alonzo withdrew the cat tails from the brine, and took a slightly different position in anticipation of delivering the next two. This time he intended to strike her as yet untouched left side. The question was where? He noticed with satisfaction her desperate attempts to look back to see what was coming, as though that would somehow do some good! A glance at the assembled crew, assured him that he had their rapt attention. This was a game he knew well. He had determined two lashes, on her left side, breast high, were called for, and set out to deliver them hard and in quick succession.

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Diego watched, transfixed, just like everyone else present on deck, as the cat’s wicked tails broke twice around Bárbara’s side, grabbing both times at her left breast. The shrillness of her screams rang in his ears as she twisted and recoiled, and he balled his fists helplessly as her head rolled forward and stayed there. She appeared to have fainted.

Murmurs and comments flew as the seaman charged with maintaining the count, called “six!”

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Stepping forward, Alonso grabbed a handful of hair and snapped her head back. Her eyes were closed, and mouth gaped open. It was true! She had fainted after a mere six!

Reaching for the first of several buckets of brine lined up nearby on the deck, Alonso lifted it high and promptly dumped its contents over her sagging figure. And to the raucous cheers of the watching seamen, she came to with a start. Her eyes blinked open and she let out a loud wail and stomped with her feet as the salty water stung her wounds, most of which were small cuts and abrasions, but also one nasty cut at the base of her left nipple from which a trickle of blood wound its way down her chest and belly.

Her chemise, now laden with water, hung even lower and more precariously than before from her hips ... the part covering her pudendum rendered transparent enough to reveal a dark triangular patch of hair.

Sputtering and shaking, Bárbara tried vainly to steady herself. The twenty-four additional lashes she had yet to endure seemed more than she could possibly withstand. Desperate for support and reassurance, of any kind, she looked to Diego de Arana. And although her vision was blurred due to the brine stinging her eyes, she felt that ... somehow ... despite his stiff posture ... and inscrutably stern expression ... he was both on her side and perhaps longed to be at her side!

As for the other onlookers ... the leering seamen ... and especially hatchet-faced Cristobal Colon and his officious companions ... she knew that she could expect not an ounce of sympathy.

So she decided, then and there, she would stand tall and bravely face the cat.


TO BE CONTINUED
I really love how Alonso takes his time to study her body, to plan her flogging in exacting detail.
And he starts off in the most vicious manner, wrapping the first two lashes... already dipping the cat tails into the bucket of brine during the first six strokes.... incredibly cruel.
 

RacingRodent

Potent Rodent
Why are so many folks picking on Fossy??? There have been SO many manips that were FAR worse than these posted on the forum :grinning-smiley-048:
Or to look at it another way, why are so many people taking the time to actually look at and comment on his work?

I do not think that counts as picking on him, now keel hauling him for a simple colour mistake that might count as picking on him but then again around here it could just be foreplay :p
 

messaline

Crucified Amazon
... and the cat-o-nine was not already used in 1492 :
from wiki ...


Etymology[edit]
The term first appears in 1681[1] in reports of a London murder. The term came into wider circulation in 1695[2] although the design is much older.

... and more, the whip wasn't formed by leather'lashes but by ropes'lashes ...

from wiki ...


Description[edit]
The cat is made up of nine knotted thongs of cotton cord, about 0.8 metres (2 1⁄2 ft) long, designed to lacerate the skin and cause intense pain.

It traditionally has nine thongs as a result of the manner in which rope is plaited. Thinner rope is made from three strands of yarn plaited together, and thicker rope from three strands of thinner rope plaited together. To make a cat o' nine tails, a rope is unravelled into three small ropes, each of which is unravelled again.

... only some precisions ... :tejeqteje:
 

windar

Teller of Tales
... and the cat-o-nine was not already used in 1492 :
from wiki ...


Etymology[edit]
The term first appears in 1681[1] in reports of a London murder. The term came into wider circulation in 1695[2] although the design is much older.

... and more, the whip wasn't formed by leather'lashes but by ropes'lashes ...

from wiki ...


Description[edit]
The cat is made up of nine knotted thongs of cotton cord, about 0.8 metres (2 1⁄2 ft) long, designed to lacerate the skin and cause intense pain.

It traditionally has nine thongs as a result of the manner in which rope is plaited. Thinner rope is made from three strands of yarn plaited together, and thicker rope from three strands of thinner rope plaited together. To make a cat o' nine tails, a rope is unravelled into three small ropes, each of which is unravelled again.

... only some precisions ... :tejeqteje:
I think the cat was probably used before 1681, though maybe not under that name. It's the product of a nautical rope, which consists of sets of 3 cords wound together progressively. Uncoil the first set and you have 3 tails. Uncoil those and you have 9. Certainly, multi-tailed whips were used in ancient times (the Roman Scourge for one). Were they used on Spanish sailing ships in the 15th century? Particularly ones which were really private merchant ships, not part of the Armada. I don't know and honestly, don't care, since it makes for a great story.

But if one of you artists wants to puts Vulcan ears on Barb to go with the green blood, that would be super!:D
 
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