M
montycrusto
Guest
Just surprised we made it to page 5 before it appeared
Such a pun should never have hit my funny bone, but shiver me timbers, that one did!
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1492
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
4.
While waiting for the order to deliver the next six, Alonso took stock. He noted with satisfaction that Bárbara had straightened up and was standing tall, raised on her toes, rather than hanging limp. The brine dousing had apparently brought her around and perhaps stiffened her resolve as she was tugging experimentally at the bonds at her wrists in addition to warily turning half-around every now and then to check on him.
He also noted he still had the attention of his seamen mates, who followed him with their eyes ... as well as their ribald commentary ... when he elected to saunter over to pay her a closer inspection. Reaching out he swept a mass of wet brown hair from where it clung to her bare back and redeposited it over her right shoulder and breast. He smiled at the precisely laid diagonal stripes his third and fourth strokes had left on her back. He reckoned there would be blood when he crossed them from the opposite side as part of the next six.
Looking down he could see that the moisture heavy fabric of her torn chemise had slipped lower on her hips ... low enough to see the very tops of her tight little ass cheeks and the beginnings of the crack separating then. He judged the chances of the fabric falling away soon ... likely by the end of the next six ... to be good.
Gently, he gripped her left arm and turned her halfway to her left and toward him so he could survey the damage the tails had done to her chest and midriff. Not so bad yet, he thought to himself. There were quite a number of small cuts and welts but not much blood, with the exception of a nasty slice at the base of her left nipple which was bleeding profusely.
Before letting go, he happened to catch her eye. She was glaring at him with the kind of fire in the eyes that takes one aback. Moreover, she took the opportunity to spit at him and curse him!
This Bárbara Morales obviously had spirit in her, and that ... in his opinion ... was going to make things all the more interesting. With the help of the Almighty above, he ... Alonso Chocero ... would break this wench and her damnable spirit, and he reckoned he was going to enjoy doing it.
Diego de Arana was also observing a number of things. The first was the surprising way in which Bárbara had recovered, both bodily and apparently mentally. He caught the words thrown at Alonso, as well as the glob of spittle that suddenly appeared on the hulking seaman’s hairy chest. He also caught the self-satisfied smirk on her face as Alonso roughly spun her body back to facing front.
Diego was also aware of the renewed interest that the exchange between Alonso and Bárbara had sparked among the assembled crewmen, who must have sensed with satisfaction that the level of entertainment was sure to rise in the coming six.
But in the end, it was the dark triangle of matted hair, so visibly displayed against the wet fabric of her chemise that held his attention and stirred his loins. This was a woman he wanted desperately to possess, but was utterly helpless to stop Alonso, and his cruel cat, from destroying the very beauty that he, Diego de Arana, so ardently had come to admire.
For Bárbara, the incident with Alonso was empowering. However inconsequential the action, and however terrible the retribution he would undoubtedly now inflict on her body, the look on his face when she cursed him and spat on him was worth it. In her own small way she had fought back, and she hoped the remembrance would sustain her over the coming ordeal.
She also was more certain than ever that she had captured Diego’s heart and soul. The man admired her! She could tell. And the way he stared at her down there told her even more. He was her only chance. As the ship’s master-at-arms, he was the only one who could possibly do something to save her.
Although he would have preferred to have been closeted in his small cabin, engaged in serious discussions about the prospects of his long sought after expedition with his close associates, Juan de la Cosa and Rodrigo de Escobedo ... and his presence on deck to witness the flogging of this foolish young woman was no more than an inescapable formality ... Cristobal Colon’s interest was also piqued by Bárbara’s exchange with Alonso. Had he dismissed her too quickly? Would she be somehow useful to have along on the voyage? How long had it been since he had had a woman? Didn’t she have the most perfect breasts?
In the meantime Alonso had resumed his station behind Bárbara. Noting that the master-at-arms appeared to have fallen into some kind of trance, and observing that his comrades were getting restless, he decided to take it on himself to commence with the second six. Reaching for his cat, which had been resting in brine, he paced off three steps to his left with the intention of beginning the round by bloodying Bárbara’s back.
But it was just then that Santa Maria crested a particularly large crest and fell precipitously into a deep trough. And despite the experienced legs of a seaman, Alonso who had leaned far back in order to deliver the most vicious cat strike possible, did a complete pratfall instead, much to the merriment of his mates.
Embarrassed and resentful, he regained his feet and resumed his stance, but the sea had become notably rougher, the crests and troughs more mountainous. The wind was picking up to near gale force, howling in the rigging and flapping the sails. Dark threatening clouds were scudding low across the sky.
Diego broke from his trance, cast an experienced eye at the gathering storm, and seeing his opportunity to buy precious time, spoke.
“Storm’s a brewing. Time for six more lashes, but then it’s all hands to general quarters. The balance of the prisoner’s punishment to be completed on the morrow.”
Alonso looked crestfallen at first, but displayed a dark scowl as he resumed his position and made ready. He waited for the carrack to break a crest, and for the soaking spray to subside, then with a mighty grunt delivered a vicious strike, cutting diagonally from Bárbara’s right shoulder, directly across the lines of the earlier diagonals, to the small of her back and across her left hip.
The force of the strike took her off her feet, flung her head violently back and tore long gashes on her back from which sprang little mists of blood. Her scream was absolutely blood curdling, even though it was half drowned in the howl of the wind.
The mouths of Diego, Cristobal Colon and his two colleagues, and the entire crew, dropped in amazement. Bárbara hung limply, unconscious, head lolled to one side against an upraised arm. Her chemise had slipped away and lay gathered around her ankles. She was, for all practical purposes, totally nude.
Eager to carry out his plan of attack, Alonso let loose with a second diagonal, which struck with less force, but succeeded in further punishing and bloodying her back.
Diego considered calling a halt at that point, but was restrained by Cristobal Colon, who appeared at his side and whispered, “let him finish the six, then get her down and have her brought to my quarters.”
And so, Alonso was allowed to do his worst for four more strikes, witnessed by a much diminished audience as seamen scattered to seek shelter or secure the vessel. Diego and Cristobal Colon stayed on to the last, watching transfixed as Alonso’s wicked cat laid waste with a pair of vicious strokes to Bárbara’s quivering ass cheeks, and then as her limp form rotated sideways, raked her front side ... first full on the chest and then low in a broad swath stretching from lower abdomen to the top of her thighs.
Alonso’s final act was to throw a bucket of brine over the unconscious woman, but to little effect as the rising seas and the wind were, by then, dousing her every time Santa Maria crested a swell. With a sneer, Alonso tossed his cat in its bucket, which promptly tipped over onto the deck, wiped his nose with his arm and stomped off.
“Get her down and bring her to me,” Cristobal Colon shouted to be heard above the howl of the wind.
Diego grimly nodded his assent.
TO BE CONTINUED
While waiting for the order to deliver the next six, Alonso took stock. He noted with satisfaction that Bárbara had straightened up and was standing tall, raised on her toes, rather than hanging limp. The brine dousing had apparently brought her around and perhaps stiffened her resolve as she was tugging experimentally at the bonds at her wrists in addition to warily turning half-around every now and then to check on him.
He also noted he still had the attention of his seamen mates, who followed him with their eyes ... as well as their ribald commentary ... when he elected to saunter over to pay her a closer inspection. Reaching out he swept a mass of wet brown hair from where it clung to her bare back and redeposited it over her right shoulder and breast. He smiled at the precisely laid diagonal stripes his third and fourth strokes had left on her back. He reckoned there would be blood when he crossed them from the opposite side as part of the next six.
Looking down he could see that the moisture heavy fabric of her torn chemise had slipped lower on her hips ... low enough to see the very tops of her tight little ass cheeks and the beginnings of the crack separating then. He judged the chances of the fabric falling away soon ... likely by the end of the next six ... to be good.
Gently, he gripped her left arm and turned her halfway to her left and toward him so he could survey the damage the tails had done to her chest and midriff. Not so bad yet, he thought to himself. There were quite a number of small cuts and welts but not much blood, with the exception of a nasty slice at the base of her left nipple which was bleeding profusely.
Before letting go, he happened to catch her eye. She was glaring at him with the kind of fire in the eyes that takes one aback. Moreover, she took the opportunity to spit at him and curse him!
This Bárbara Morales obviously had spirit in her, and that ... in his opinion ... was going to make things all the more interesting. With the help of the Almighty above, he ... Alonso Chocero ... would break this wench and her damnable spirit, and he reckoned he was going to enjoy doing it.
Diego de Arana was also observing a number of things. The first was the surprising way in which Bárbara had recovered, both bodily and apparently mentally. He caught the words thrown at Alonso, as well as the glob of spittle that suddenly appeared on the hulking seaman’s hairy chest. He also caught the self-satisfied smirk on her face as Alonso roughly spun her body back to facing front.
Diego was also aware of the renewed interest that the exchange between Alonso and Bárbara had sparked among the assembled crewmen, who must have sensed with satisfaction that the level of entertainment was sure to rise in the coming six.
But in the end, it was the dark triangle of matted hair, so visibly displayed against the wet fabric of her chemise that held his attention and stirred his loins. This was a woman he wanted desperately to possess, but was utterly helpless to stop Alonso, and his cruel cat, from destroying the very beauty that he, Diego de Arana, so ardently had come to admire.
For Bárbara, the incident with Alonso was empowering. However inconsequential the action, and however terrible the retribution he would undoubtedly now inflict on her body, the look on his face when she cursed him and spat on him was worth it. In her own small way she had fought back, and she hoped the remembrance would sustain her over the coming ordeal.
She also was more certain than ever that she had captured Diego’s heart and soul. The man admired her! She could tell. And the way he stared at her down there told her even more. He was her only chance. As the ship’s master-at-arms, he was the only one who could possibly do something to save her.
Although he would have preferred to have been closeted in his small cabin, engaged in serious discussions about the prospects of his long sought after expedition with his close associates, Juan de la Cosa and Rodrigo de Escobedo ... and his presence on deck to witness the flogging of this foolish young woman was no more than an inescapable formality ... Cristobal Colon’s interest was also piqued by Bárbara’s exchange with Alonso. Had he dismissed her too quickly? Would she be somehow useful to have along on the voyage? How long had it been since he had had a woman? Didn’t she have the most perfect breasts?
In the meantime Alonso had resumed his station behind Bárbara. Noting that the master-at-arms appeared to have fallen into some kind of trance, and observing that his comrades were getting restless, he decided to take it on himself to commence with the second six. Reaching for his cat, which had been resting in brine, he paced off three steps to his left with the intention of beginning the round by bloodying Bárbara’s back.
But it was just then that Santa Maria crested a particularly large crest and fell precipitously into a deep trough. And despite the experienced legs of a seaman, Alonso who had leaned far back in order to deliver the most vicious cat strike possible, did a complete pratfall instead, much to the merriment of his mates.
Embarrassed and resentful, he regained his feet and resumed his stance, but the sea had become notably rougher, the crests and troughs more mountainous. The wind was picking up to near gale force, howling in the rigging and flapping the sails. Dark threatening clouds were scudding low across the sky.
Diego broke from his trance, cast an experienced eye at the gathering storm, and seeing his opportunity to buy precious time, spoke.
“Storm’s a brewing. Time for six more lashes, but then it’s all hands to general quarters. The balance of the prisoner’s punishment to be completed on the morrow.”
Alonso looked crestfallen at first, but displayed a dark scowl as he resumed his position and made ready. He waited for the carrack to break a crest, and for the soaking spray to subside, then with a mighty grunt delivered a vicious strike, cutting diagonally from Bárbara’s right shoulder, directly across the lines of the earlier diagonals, to the small of her back and across her left hip.
The force of the strike took her off her feet, flung her head violently back and tore long gashes on her back from which sprang little mists of blood. Her scream was absolutely blood curdling, even though it was half drowned in the howl of the wind.
The mouths of Diego, Cristobal Colon and his two colleagues, and the entire crew, dropped in amazement. Bárbara hung limply, unconscious, head lolled to one side against an upraised arm. Her chemise had slipped away and lay gathered around her ankles. She was, for all practical purposes, totally nude.
Eager to carry out his plan of attack, Alonso let loose with a second diagonal, which struck with less force, but succeeded in further punishing and bloodying her back.
Diego considered calling a halt at that point, but was restrained by Cristobal Colon, who appeared at his side and whispered, “let him finish the six, then get her down and have her brought to my quarters.”
And so, Alonso was allowed to do his worst for four more strikes, witnessed by a much diminished audience as seamen scattered to seek shelter or secure the vessel. Diego and Cristobal Colon stayed on to the last, watching transfixed as Alonso’s wicked cat laid waste with a pair of vicious strokes to Bárbara’s quivering ass cheeks, and then as her limp form rotated sideways, raked her front side ... first full on the chest and then low in a broad swath stretching from lower abdomen to the top of her thighs.
Alonso’s final act was to throw a bucket of brine over the unconscious woman, but to little effect as the rising seas and the wind were, by then, dousing her every time Santa Maria crested a swell. With a sneer, Alonso tossed his cat in its bucket, which promptly tipped over onto the deck, wiped his nose with his arm and stomped off.
“Get her down and bring her to me,” Cristobal Colon shouted to be heard above the howl of the wind.
Diego grimly nodded his assent.
TO BE CONTINUED
Last edited:
I see the mast is standing tall and there's seamen everywhere
View attachment 759905
Ha harr me hearties, thar be wind in the jammers and oars in the rowlocks, let’s haul down the whatsit and splice the thingumajig.. and since no-one else is doing the seamen joke, lets see how Barb handles a ship full of seamen ..
ok, so I'm in a different timezone. Someone has to do the bad jokes, but I'm often late to see these posts
I'm only just back, I haven't noticed. Long experience of the web has taught me to hold my comments until the heat has passed.
You don't believe in "strike while the iron is hot"?
But it's a good one !
Migoz2
Senator
Yet another superb installment, Barb. Really well written, and I love Bárbara's spirit!
connoisseurs
Senator
Barb without further punishment? That would be a first. She can drive the most peaceable man into white heat.
connoisseurs
Senator
With Barb around I will never forget the time when I was 12 or 13 years old. I was never sure if I should kiss the girls or hit them... Later I learned to do one thing at a time.
5.
San Sebastián de La Gomera, Canary Islands, Sunday morning, August 14, 1492.
Diego de Arana sat dejectedly at the edge of the stone quay, a mere stone’s throw from where the Santa Maria, La Pinta, and La Niña had been moored to undergo refitting and provisioning. It had been exactly a week since the little flotilla had weathered the gale and his Bárbara Morales, the young woman he had become hopelessly besotted over, had been subjected to a brutal flogging at the hands of Alonso Chocero on the pitching, windswept deck of the Santa Maria. They had been fortunate to have limped into San Sebastián de La Gomera in the wake of the storm, having absorbed extensive damage to all three vessels.
But it was not the storm damage to the carrack and it’s two companion caravels that had Diego feeling so deeply dejected. The repairs would be completed in good time. He was sure of that. No, it was the fact that he had not seen Bárbara since he had delivered her ... unconscious, naked and bloodied ... to the shipboard quarters of the Captain-General, Cristobal Colon. That was seven days ago ... seven days over which she had not emerged nor had he been allowed to enter and see her!
He knew she had survived her ordeal and was probably well. Feigning only mild interest in his capacity as master-at-arms, he had casually enquired of Juan Sanchez, the ship’s physician, of her health and had been informed that the ill effects of her flogging had been well attended to. Colon’s personal servant, Diego de Salcedo, had also expressed concern to him about the prodigious drain on perishable stores that had been going on since Cristobal Colon had taken the young woman into his private quarters. Apparently she had been eating well.
Lovesick and longing, he had resolved that he would go to her at first opportunity, and the moment had come that Sunday morning when the pious Cristobal Colon had led a procession, consisting of the entire complement of the three vessels to attend mass at Iglesia de Nuestra Señora de la Asunción, the town’s main church ... leaving Diego behind to stand watch.
With church bells pealing the call to mass in the town, he rose and ascended the gangplank onto the deserted deck of Santa Maria. Moments later, he stood ... heart pounding ... outside the door to Colon’s quarters. He tried the latch, but it was locked. Producing the heavy ring of keys entrusted to him as master-of-arms, he tried several and on the fourth attempt succeeded in gaining entry.
Slipping inside, he paused to listen and adjust to the dim light. Across the way, he spotted her, lying asleep amidst a rumple of bed clothes on Colon’s bed. She was asleep and stark naked, lying on her side with her back to him. A clutter of dishes with half-eaten food lay on the floor, along with an empty tankard lying on its side.
The room reeked of sweat and the distinctive smell of sex. A telltale smear of creamy semen covered the bottom of the lower cheek of her small ass.
He stood in silence, admiring her beauty
... the raised curve of her hip, the backs of her knees, the small of her back, the nape of her neck, the tangle of luxuriant brown hair spread over much of the pillow tucked under her head.
Only the faintest signs of her flogging could be detected. Juan Sanchez had done his job well. The damage inflicted by Alonso’s cat appeared to have healed with scarcely a trace.
She stirred, sensing his presence.
“Back so soon ... ?”
“No ... tis I ... Di ... Diego ... Diego de Arna,” he stammered.
Rolling suddenly onto her back, she cried, “Diego? No! What are you doing here? How ... ?”
“Key,” he responded, holding out the key, eyes glued to the softness of her mounded breasts and the saucy pertness of her nipples.
“You must leave! Cristobal will be back!” She replied, swinging her legs around and sitting up abruptly.
It was only then that he saw that one of her ankles was shackled to a bedpost.
“Is he holding you here against your will ... forcing you to ... to .... ?”
“Make love to him?”, she said, finishing his question. “Yes, much like my former master. Only far worse! It’s ugly ... he’s demanding ... unreasonable ... and he invites his two friends ... Juan and Pedro ... to use me too ... and not in the usual way!”
“No more ... Bárbara ... “ he shouted at her, searching for something to set her free and seizing on a dagger left lying on a table and a pike mounted on the wall, which he used in combination to twist and snap a link in the chain.
“There! Get up, get dressed ... I’m taking you away from here.”
“But how? Where will we go?”
“To the mountains. They’re very wild and rugged. We’ll hide out there until Colon and the others leave the island. Hurry! Not much time ...”
“But if we’re caught ... ?”
“We won’t be ... trust me ... “
Bárbara stared at him, her mind awhirl. Cristobal Colon was a beast. His demands of her every bit as bad as those of her former master, even worse ... and she was virtually imprisoned as well ... reduced to nothing more than a sex slave.
And, wasn’t Diego the one ... the only one aboard the Santa Maria who might care enough to help her? Quite obviously she had been right about him all along. He was willing to risk everything for her!
And besides, she suddenly remembered that her flogging had been cut short by the storm. Eighteen more strokes! Enough to kill her! Who was to say Colon wouldn’t tire of her and have Alonso finish her off?
“Alright, let’s go,” she murmured, reaching for the only thing available for her to wear ... a rough woolen seaman’s tunic. Standing abruptly, she slipped it on over her head and allowed it to slither down over her body, covering her to mid-thigh.
Diego had moved to the doorway, checking that the way was clear ... no one to be seen. Reaching for her hand, he led her across the deck and down the gangplank, and from there to the Torre del Conde ... the massive fortress tower that dominated the harbor and the town ... and from there through the nearby gate in the town wall that led to the island interior, and a trail leading into the hills.
Meanwhile the mass at the Iglesia de Nuestra Señora de la Asunción had come to an end, and after paying due respects to the island’s Spanish governor on the steps of the great church, Colon led his men in proud procession back to the harbor.
Once aboard ship, he went straight to his quarters only to find the door ajar, the bed empty ... the broken chain ... Bárbara gone!
Bursting out on deck, he called for his master-at-arms to sound the alarm. But no response ... Diego de Arana had vanished ... and he suddenly knew why! The two of them ... of course! He should have seen this coming.
Seizing his man-servant, Diego de Salcedo, by the arm, he called for fifty armed men to be assembled immediately to search the town, and for someone to fetch the governor and convey to him Colon’s urgent demand that he turn out the town garrison as well.
Working himself into a frenzy, he pounded his fist against his hand and shouted over the ship’s rail to his men, hastily assembling on the wharf below, “Go forth! Search the town, and beyond ... if need be ... until you find them! They couldn’t have gotten far. I want Bárbara Morales and Diego de Arana apprehended at once and brought to me in chains. Mark my words. They shall pay dearly for this!”
TO BE CONTINUED
San Sebastián de La Gomera, Canary Islands, Sunday morning, August 14, 1492.
Diego de Arana sat dejectedly at the edge of the stone quay, a mere stone’s throw from where the Santa Maria, La Pinta, and La Niña had been moored to undergo refitting and provisioning. It had been exactly a week since the little flotilla had weathered the gale and his Bárbara Morales, the young woman he had become hopelessly besotted over, had been subjected to a brutal flogging at the hands of Alonso Chocero on the pitching, windswept deck of the Santa Maria. They had been fortunate to have limped into San Sebastián de La Gomera in the wake of the storm, having absorbed extensive damage to all three vessels.
But it was not the storm damage to the carrack and it’s two companion caravels that had Diego feeling so deeply dejected. The repairs would be completed in good time. He was sure of that. No, it was the fact that he had not seen Bárbara since he had delivered her ... unconscious, naked and bloodied ... to the shipboard quarters of the Captain-General, Cristobal Colon. That was seven days ago ... seven days over which she had not emerged nor had he been allowed to enter and see her!
He knew she had survived her ordeal and was probably well. Feigning only mild interest in his capacity as master-at-arms, he had casually enquired of Juan Sanchez, the ship’s physician, of her health and had been informed that the ill effects of her flogging had been well attended to. Colon’s personal servant, Diego de Salcedo, had also expressed concern to him about the prodigious drain on perishable stores that had been going on since Cristobal Colon had taken the young woman into his private quarters. Apparently she had been eating well.
Lovesick and longing, he had resolved that he would go to her at first opportunity, and the moment had come that Sunday morning when the pious Cristobal Colon had led a procession, consisting of the entire complement of the three vessels to attend mass at Iglesia de Nuestra Señora de la Asunción, the town’s main church ... leaving Diego behind to stand watch.
With church bells pealing the call to mass in the town, he rose and ascended the gangplank onto the deserted deck of Santa Maria. Moments later, he stood ... heart pounding ... outside the door to Colon’s quarters. He tried the latch, but it was locked. Producing the heavy ring of keys entrusted to him as master-of-arms, he tried several and on the fourth attempt succeeded in gaining entry.
Slipping inside, he paused to listen and adjust to the dim light. Across the way, he spotted her, lying asleep amidst a rumple of bed clothes on Colon’s bed. She was asleep and stark naked, lying on her side with her back to him. A clutter of dishes with half-eaten food lay on the floor, along with an empty tankard lying on its side.
The room reeked of sweat and the distinctive smell of sex. A telltale smear of creamy semen covered the bottom of the lower cheek of her small ass.
He stood in silence, admiring her beauty
... the raised curve of her hip, the backs of her knees, the small of her back, the nape of her neck, the tangle of luxuriant brown hair spread over much of the pillow tucked under her head.
Only the faintest signs of her flogging could be detected. Juan Sanchez had done his job well. The damage inflicted by Alonso’s cat appeared to have healed with scarcely a trace.
She stirred, sensing his presence.
“Back so soon ... ?”
“No ... tis I ... Di ... Diego ... Diego de Arna,” he stammered.
Rolling suddenly onto her back, she cried, “Diego? No! What are you doing here? How ... ?”
“Key,” he responded, holding out the key, eyes glued to the softness of her mounded breasts and the saucy pertness of her nipples.
“You must leave! Cristobal will be back!” She replied, swinging her legs around and sitting up abruptly.
It was only then that he saw that one of her ankles was shackled to a bedpost.
“Is he holding you here against your will ... forcing you to ... to .... ?”
“Make love to him?”, she said, finishing his question. “Yes, much like my former master. Only far worse! It’s ugly ... he’s demanding ... unreasonable ... and he invites his two friends ... Juan and Pedro ... to use me too ... and not in the usual way!”
“No more ... Bárbara ... “ he shouted at her, searching for something to set her free and seizing on a dagger left lying on a table and a pike mounted on the wall, which he used in combination to twist and snap a link in the chain.
“There! Get up, get dressed ... I’m taking you away from here.”
“But how? Where will we go?”
“To the mountains. They’re very wild and rugged. We’ll hide out there until Colon and the others leave the island. Hurry! Not much time ...”
“But if we’re caught ... ?”
“We won’t be ... trust me ... “
Bárbara stared at him, her mind awhirl. Cristobal Colon was a beast. His demands of her every bit as bad as those of her former master, even worse ... and she was virtually imprisoned as well ... reduced to nothing more than a sex slave.
And, wasn’t Diego the one ... the only one aboard the Santa Maria who might care enough to help her? Quite obviously she had been right about him all along. He was willing to risk everything for her!
And besides, she suddenly remembered that her flogging had been cut short by the storm. Eighteen more strokes! Enough to kill her! Who was to say Colon wouldn’t tire of her and have Alonso finish her off?
“Alright, let’s go,” she murmured, reaching for the only thing available for her to wear ... a rough woolen seaman’s tunic. Standing abruptly, she slipped it on over her head and allowed it to slither down over her body, covering her to mid-thigh.
Diego had moved to the doorway, checking that the way was clear ... no one to be seen. Reaching for her hand, he led her across the deck and down the gangplank, and from there to the Torre del Conde ... the massive fortress tower that dominated the harbor and the town ... and from there through the nearby gate in the town wall that led to the island interior, and a trail leading into the hills.
Meanwhile the mass at the Iglesia de Nuestra Señora de la Asunción had come to an end, and after paying due respects to the island’s Spanish governor on the steps of the great church, Colon led his men in proud procession back to the harbor.
Once aboard ship, he went straight to his quarters only to find the door ajar, the bed empty ... the broken chain ... Bárbara gone!
Bursting out on deck, he called for his master-at-arms to sound the alarm. But no response ... Diego de Arana had vanished ... and he suddenly knew why! The two of them ... of course! He should have seen this coming.
Seizing his man-servant, Diego de Salcedo, by the arm, he called for fifty armed men to be assembled immediately to search the town, and for someone to fetch the governor and convey to him Colon’s urgent demand that he turn out the town garrison as well.
Working himself into a frenzy, he pounded his fist against his hand and shouted over the ship’s rail to his men, hastily assembling on the wharf below, “Go forth! Search the town, and beyond ... if need be ... until you find them! They couldn’t have gotten far. I want Bárbara Morales and Diego de Arana apprehended at once and brought to me in chains. Mark my words. They shall pay dearly for this!”
TO BE CONTINUED
Last edited:
Harsh Martinet
Consul
A surprising...and promising turn of events...
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
A superb twist in events. Now both flogger and flogee are 'wanted' for further punishment. Will they escape and make a new life for themselves? Or will they be captured and made to pay dearly? I have my suspicions but of course their fate lies in the skilled typing fingers of our esteemed author. Really loved the episode and I will try to create appropriate pictures a little later in the day. Thanks again Barb!
Migoz2
Senator
An interesting and compelling development! I can't wait for the next instalment
M
montycrusto
Guest
..my favourite line so far.. what? I love women in chains, sue me..
..this is by far the sexiest description of putting on a shirt ever written..
