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Paskell, The Blonde Slave Of The Sultan
- Thread starter theseus
- Start date
Of course !!! It's made ...
theseus
SERVILIS CURATOR
There is a bit of wide angle effect there. The top of the cast iron part is about 5' high, the cups about 4' above the ground. The top of the iron pillar is a square plate pierced with four holes, so I assume that four slaves would be attached to each. They would stand or squat in the dirt, I guess. The building in the background was, and still is, the Customs House.
This pic perhaps gives more detail. Time and scrap metal collectors are taking their toll, and the iron is rapidly disappearing..
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theseus
SERVILIS CURATOR
Bagamoyo was very much the gateway to East Africa in the 19th Century. Until 1905 it was the capital of German East Africa (Tanganyika) and before the Germans arrived a very important trading port for the Omani Sultans who ruled the coast.
Many of the famous explorers landed there and walked up that very coral road between the market and the customs house.. Speke, Burton and Stanley. Livingstone's body would have been carried down that road from the Catholic Church when it was shipped back to Zanzibar and then England.
Bagamoyo is a World Heritage site, but apart from the big sign informing one of this, nothing much has changed. The town is ramshackle, although the old German Boma has recently been restored, so perhaps something is starting to happen.
You get good Pizza at Poa-Poa, a quirky little restaurant.
Cargo is still offloaded on the heads of porters, although the cargo has changed somewhat since the "good old days," carried in dhows that have not changed much in a thousand years.
Many of the famous explorers landed there and walked up that very coral road between the market and the customs house.. Speke, Burton and Stanley. Livingstone's body would have been carried down that road from the Catholic Church when it was shipped back to Zanzibar and then England.
Bagamoyo is a World Heritage site, but apart from the big sign informing one of this, nothing much has changed. The town is ramshackle, although the old German Boma has recently been restored, so perhaps something is starting to happen.
You get good Pizza at Poa-Poa, a quirky little restaurant.
Cargo is still offloaded on the heads of porters, although the cargo has changed somewhat since the "good old days," carried in dhows that have not changed much in a thousand years.
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messaline
Crucified Amazon
theseus
SERVILIS CURATOR
6.
Paskell was used several more times by members of the public. It was clear that the townsfolk had been informed that she was freely available. Nanette watched with ill-concealed glee as her erstwhile mistress submitted to the lusts of the men of the town.
The night was surprisingly cold, with a chill breeze blowing off the sea. The slaves huddled together for warmth. Paskell found that she had to pay for the comfort of the other bodies. The old slave used her again, twice. Both the women chained to her post demanded that she serve them. It was a cold, stiff, filthy and well fucked former courtier who greeted the dawn.
The slaves to be sold that day were freed from their plinths and taken into the sea to wash as best they could. Each was given a breakfast of water and a foul tasting gruel, before being taken to the show pens. The chains joining Paskell’s wrists were freed, briefly, before being re-secured behind her back. Now there was no way she could cover herself.
Each slave was led to a low platform, its ankle chains locked to a ring on the platform. They could stand or sit, or do whatever the viewer wanted. Paskell found herself with Nanette on one side and the attractive black slave who had briefly belonged to her uncle on the other. The two white women were the focus of attention. White slaves were rare, female white slaves were rarer still, and everyone had heard of the blonde slave who had been made available to all comers!
The experience of being a public whore had broken Paskell’s pride. The fact that Nanette, her maid, a peasant, had been treated better than her was incomprehensible. She looked at the black girl, so beautiful, so desirable, an object she had once thought of as a possible gift. The girl was her equal now, perhaps even her superior. She stood, proudly confident of her beauty and her allure, even flirting with the prospective buyers. Hands roamed over Paskell’s body, intimately, invasively. No part of her was sacred. Unbidden, tears ran down her cheeks, much to the amusement of the watchers.
“The white slave cries! As so many of our own have cried when sold to her kind. Let her now feel the truth of slavery.”
The auctioneer was happy. He realised that the presence of the white slaves would improve business. Bidding was brisk. The white male slaves went quickly, most of them headed for the salt mines outside the town. Two of the younger sailors were less fortunate. Their looks attracted buyers with different needs. They would not labour in the mines. For them the first ordeal was the gelding knife and the red-hot iron. If they survived that they would live a life of shame.
Nanette was put on the auction block. The crowd murmured in excitement. Bidding was fast and furious, the auctioneer working the crowd. When bidding started to flag the auctioneer interrupted his patter.
“My friends! We have all seen that these white women are born whores! They have no shame. They will do anything to please a man. Allow me to demonstrate!”
Two black slaves were brought to the platform, chosen for the size of their genitals.
“My friends! Watch as this slave pleases two men at the same time. Real men! Not the white eunuchs she is used to!”
To the appalled Nanette he hissed. “Make this good, bitch, otherwise the last thing you will ever fuck will be a sharpened stake!”
Paskell was used several more times by members of the public. It was clear that the townsfolk had been informed that she was freely available. Nanette watched with ill-concealed glee as her erstwhile mistress submitted to the lusts of the men of the town.
The night was surprisingly cold, with a chill breeze blowing off the sea. The slaves huddled together for warmth. Paskell found that she had to pay for the comfort of the other bodies. The old slave used her again, twice. Both the women chained to her post demanded that she serve them. It was a cold, stiff, filthy and well fucked former courtier who greeted the dawn.
The slaves to be sold that day were freed from their plinths and taken into the sea to wash as best they could. Each was given a breakfast of water and a foul tasting gruel, before being taken to the show pens. The chains joining Paskell’s wrists were freed, briefly, before being re-secured behind her back. Now there was no way she could cover herself.
Each slave was led to a low platform, its ankle chains locked to a ring on the platform. They could stand or sit, or do whatever the viewer wanted. Paskell found herself with Nanette on one side and the attractive black slave who had briefly belonged to her uncle on the other. The two white women were the focus of attention. White slaves were rare, female white slaves were rarer still, and everyone had heard of the blonde slave who had been made available to all comers!
The experience of being a public whore had broken Paskell’s pride. The fact that Nanette, her maid, a peasant, had been treated better than her was incomprehensible. She looked at the black girl, so beautiful, so desirable, an object she had once thought of as a possible gift. The girl was her equal now, perhaps even her superior. She stood, proudly confident of her beauty and her allure, even flirting with the prospective buyers. Hands roamed over Paskell’s body, intimately, invasively. No part of her was sacred. Unbidden, tears ran down her cheeks, much to the amusement of the watchers.
“The white slave cries! As so many of our own have cried when sold to her kind. Let her now feel the truth of slavery.”
The auctioneer was happy. He realised that the presence of the white slaves would improve business. Bidding was brisk. The white male slaves went quickly, most of them headed for the salt mines outside the town. Two of the younger sailors were less fortunate. Their looks attracted buyers with different needs. They would not labour in the mines. For them the first ordeal was the gelding knife and the red-hot iron. If they survived that they would live a life of shame.
Nanette was put on the auction block. The crowd murmured in excitement. Bidding was fast and furious, the auctioneer working the crowd. When bidding started to flag the auctioneer interrupted his patter.
“My friends! We have all seen that these white women are born whores! They have no shame. They will do anything to please a man. Allow me to demonstrate!”
Two black slaves were brought to the platform, chosen for the size of their genitals.
“My friends! Watch as this slave pleases two men at the same time. Real men! Not the white eunuchs she is used to!”
To the appalled Nanette he hissed. “Make this good, bitch, otherwise the last thing you will ever fuck will be a sharpened stake!”
theseus
SERVILIS CURATOR
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theseus
SERVILIS CURATOR
I agree. Especially if the handsome gent in the background is meant to be me.I rather vote for this one, but it's Theseus who is judge, it's his story ...
messaline
Crucified Amazon
White Slave Woman
Some bondage and whipping art by Édouard Chimot:
The work is titled L’esclave Blanc Role Inversee, which would appear to mean something like “White Slave – the reversed role”.
Some bondage and whipping art by Édouard Chimot:
The work is titled L’esclave Blanc Role Inversee, which would appear to mean something like “White Slave – the reversed role”.
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theseus
SERVILIS CURATOR
For those really interested in this fine Gentleman's career try the following link:
http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924028752644
Cella
Spectator
Oh yes!
Had a dream like this once, or maybe twice . . .
"Oh, that's nice. Great hands, my good sirs! So, what else can you do for me? Oh my!!! I see!"
Don't you just hate waking up from some dreams!
theseus
SERVILIS CURATOR
To be honest, I don't know. I am posting this as I write it.
theseus
SERVILIS CURATOR
7.
Paskell watched, horrified and fascinated, as her maid was sandwiched between the two slaves. It seemed impossible that she could absorb both those massive members. Nanette was silent, perhaps in shock! Her mouth wide open in a soundless scream as she was penetrated. The slaves seemed tireless! The crowd roared with excitement!
They were still socketed deep inside her when a young, very well dressed man pushed through the crowd. He dropped a heavy purse into the auctioneer’s hand. “I’ll take all three of them!”
The auctioneer weighed the purse in his hand, his eyes wide at the glint of gold inside. He bowed. “Of course, sir.”
The three slaves were led away, Nanette walking with difficulty.
The beautiful black girl was next on the block. She stood proud, flaunting her body as the bidding started. The bidding was brisk, the prices high. Finally she was sold. Her new owner came to take possession of her. A tall, stately woman in a full burkah, her black eyes, fierce as an eagle’s, the only visible feature. The girl looked crestfallen as she was led away.
The auctioneer moved to where Paskell was standing.
“And now we have this slave. Once a Frankish noblewoman, she is now a naked whore. Many of you witnessed her shameful behaviour as she rutted like an animal, unashamed of her lewdness!”
Paskell wanted to protest, to shout out that she was anything but a willing participant, rather a helpless victim.
“Thus it has been decided that she shall be punished for her wantonness before being sold. She shall dance for us, to the tune of the whip!” The crowd cheered, the women ululating wildly!
Paskell was freed from her chains, although the manacles remained at wrist and ankle. Protesting furiously, and futilely she was led to a raised stage. On the stage, one at each corner, was a man with a long, slender whip. She was placed in the centre of the stage, the two guards making a hurried exit.
She stood quietly, gauging her chances of escape. She realised that there was no chance with the stage surrounded by a baying mob eager to see her suffer. The men with the whips stood motionless.
For several minutes nothing happened. Then she lost her nerve and made a break for the edge of the stage where the crowd looked thinnest! A whip flicked out, wrapping around her ankle and bringing her to her knees. A second whip flicked out, the tip of the lash cracking against her nipple! She leaped back out of range, only to find another whip flicking at her buttock!
So the dance went! The whips stung like wasps, finding the most tender spots on her body. The men were experts, masters of accuracy. Time after time she was brought down. Time after time the tip of a whip cracked against a nipple, her clit, her anus! Whips wrapped around her legs, around her waist. Frantically she tried to dodge the lash, always unsuccessfully. The crowd clapped their hands to accompany her dance.
She was exhausted! Her body a sea of pain. Her legs weak with exhaustion. She lay curled up in a foetal ball, but even then the whips always found a sensitive spot. Finally she just lay there, sobbing!
Paskell watched, horrified and fascinated, as her maid was sandwiched between the two slaves. It seemed impossible that she could absorb both those massive members. Nanette was silent, perhaps in shock! Her mouth wide open in a soundless scream as she was penetrated. The slaves seemed tireless! The crowd roared with excitement!
They were still socketed deep inside her when a young, very well dressed man pushed through the crowd. He dropped a heavy purse into the auctioneer’s hand. “I’ll take all three of them!”
The auctioneer weighed the purse in his hand, his eyes wide at the glint of gold inside. He bowed. “Of course, sir.”
The three slaves were led away, Nanette walking with difficulty.
The beautiful black girl was next on the block. She stood proud, flaunting her body as the bidding started. The bidding was brisk, the prices high. Finally she was sold. Her new owner came to take possession of her. A tall, stately woman in a full burkah, her black eyes, fierce as an eagle’s, the only visible feature. The girl looked crestfallen as she was led away.
The auctioneer moved to where Paskell was standing.
“And now we have this slave. Once a Frankish noblewoman, she is now a naked whore. Many of you witnessed her shameful behaviour as she rutted like an animal, unashamed of her lewdness!”
Paskell wanted to protest, to shout out that she was anything but a willing participant, rather a helpless victim.
“Thus it has been decided that she shall be punished for her wantonness before being sold. She shall dance for us, to the tune of the whip!” The crowd cheered, the women ululating wildly!
Paskell was freed from her chains, although the manacles remained at wrist and ankle. Protesting furiously, and futilely she was led to a raised stage. On the stage, one at each corner, was a man with a long, slender whip. She was placed in the centre of the stage, the two guards making a hurried exit.
She stood quietly, gauging her chances of escape. She realised that there was no chance with the stage surrounded by a baying mob eager to see her suffer. The men with the whips stood motionless.
For several minutes nothing happened. Then she lost her nerve and made a break for the edge of the stage where the crowd looked thinnest! A whip flicked out, wrapping around her ankle and bringing her to her knees. A second whip flicked out, the tip of the lash cracking against her nipple! She leaped back out of range, only to find another whip flicking at her buttock!
So the dance went! The whips stung like wasps, finding the most tender spots on her body. The men were experts, masters of accuracy. Time after time she was brought down. Time after time the tip of a whip cracked against a nipple, her clit, her anus! Whips wrapped around her legs, around her waist. Frantically she tried to dodge the lash, always unsuccessfully. The crowd clapped their hands to accompany her dance.
She was exhausted! Her body a sea of pain. Her legs weak with exhaustion. She lay curled up in a foetal ball, but even then the whips always found a sensitive spot. Finally she just lay there, sobbing!