Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Wow praise indeed. Thank you so much Barb! (Don't forget to 'like' )
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The Georgia Peach - A Story of the American Civil War
- Thread starter Fossy
- Start date
messaline
Crucified Amazon
Have you already been submitted to a viol ? ! ... I think no of course but certainly that you've commited many of them in knowing what the girls want ... !!!
StarbuckSlut
Magistrate
Amazing Tale!
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
An excellent flashback to introduce another dastardly character. The whole episode is superior, the tension and passion keeps rising!
I apologize that the language difference prevented you from detecting the tongue-in-cheek tone of my remarks in a site that glories in the rape and torture of innocent women. If I am not allowed to enjoy and comment on the fictional travails of these women here, I might as well leave.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Thank you PrPr my friend, your ongoing support is very much appreciated as always. I'm not sure I understand what the other exchange is about, but I hope all is calm and well.
messaline
Crucified Amazon
Sorry but in written language , it's difficult ...
Generally, I avoid all what it's speaking of rape on this site ; perhaps that I've my own reasons for that ...
messaline
Crucified Amazon
Be rassured, Fossy, your story (that I like very much) is not concerned ; it only was the comment of PrPr that I'd visibly baddly understood ... All will be calm and well now, from me at least ...
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Chapter 17 – The Upstairs Study at White Orchard Plantation, Around 6:15pm, May 11th 1864
Sherman stood at the window of the study. He had been unable to move ever since Catherine and her official entourage came into view. The entire predicament captivated him.
He had handed responsibility over to the Lieutenant and so he must let him complete the task without interruption. But what would he do to her? The general recalled Lincoln’s Lieber Code which he had passed the previous year, not long before the great victory at Gettysburg. It contained an explicit provision prohibiting rape as an act of war. Any soldier found guilty could be executed …
He reflected on how safe this made his Goddaughter. They couldn’t rape her … could they? All provisions were superseded if it was felt that any given situation warranted urgent action due to life threatening circumstances. The Lieutenant could argue that he and his men were forced to abuse Catherine’s body in order to quickly get the results that were needed …
… but only if they had something more evidential regarding his Goddaughter’s involvement in the murder of the XV Corps soldiers. And so, for now at least Catherine was safe from being raped …
“What am I thinking?” Sherman slumped into a chair and let his head fall into his hands, more thoughts of his wife infiltrating his head. “I am so sorry darling Eleanor, that the conflict has come to this.”
He had agreed a policy of ‘total war’ with Grant, and had a mandate to ‘scorch the earth’ if required. It was the only way to end this damn struggle and of course there would be collateral damage. Innocent victims that would die for the greater good. He knew that no questions would ever be asked about a young girl alone on a plantation in deepest Georgia, especially one who had a mountain of allegations stacking up against her.
The general was not a bad person. He could be ruthless, as a Major-General he had to be, but he always thought of himself as fair and just. However, the Confederacy’s strategic, economic, and psychological ability to wage further war needed to be definitively crushed if the fighting were to end. That was why he had to make sure that even his own Goddaughter was seen to be dealt with appropriately.
Sherman knew that it was the bigger picture that was important. Not only did he need the provisions that White Orchard could supply, but he needed to retain a sense of discipline, and to do that he could show no favouritism, in any way. And besides, the stupid girl had taken matters out of his hands when the evidence had becoming damning in its implication.
Standing once more he saw Catherine moving further into the building, out of his vision, Sherman again reflected on the fact that the only hope for any respite whatsoever, was for his Goddaughter to maintain her innocence whilst suffering whatever duress the Lieutenant had planned. If she was able to do that it would allow him to call a halt to this terrible state of affairs.
Chapter 18 –The Discipline Block Out-Building at White Orchard Mansion, Around 6:20pm, May 11th 1864
The Lieutenant appeared to smile calmly but inside he could barely contain his excitement. Evans Sampson came from Maine, son of a lawyer, his father was a partner in the Paris Hill firm of Senator Hannibal Hamlin, and the younger Sampson was a ’59 graduate of Bowdoin College – indeed not the only one serving the Union cause. Like many of his neighbours and associates, young Evans took the first opportunity to join up. This was all about Virginia versus Maine, and he was not going to miss out.
It was at the college that his appetite for submissive girls took hold. Acting like the elder characters from the recently published novel about Tom Brown, he and his friends would frequent the backwater places of ill-repute, and pay handsomely for the female trash that plied their trade there to be tied and beaten. His appetite for this was voracious … but since the war he had not had the opportunity, until now that is!
Sergeant Oak was waiting for the subjugated and bound girl beside the table, a coil of rope hanging loosely from his hand.
There was no time for Catherine to wonder where he'd got it from before Sampson was behind her, his hands at her neck. In short order the collar and chain leash were removed followed by the manacles. Catherine’s relief at her freedom from these restraints was short lived as she quickly realised that the Lieutenant was simply giving himself the manoeuvrability to pull the skimpy slave fabric up and over her head.
The crowd gasped at the sight of her total nudity. The slaves were seeing their Mistress in a whole new way … some of them embarrassed, some of them infused with lust but all of them completely enthralled. It was a long time since the soldiers had seen a girl as beautiful and nubile as this one.
Catherine immediately moved to cover herself, but her humiliation was only heightened when her arms were grasped from each side and she was forced onto her knees and then face down onto the wooden plank.
“Oh no, please …” her pleadings were said quietly and served as nothing more than an additional stimulation for the perverted whims of the Lieutenant.
She knew what this was for, though it was a long time since even the slaves had suffered on this heinous contraption. She had no resistance any longer, nothing with which to fight the inevitable as her wrists were pulled into iron cuffs at the ‘head-end’ of the plank while her ankles were contained between two locked pieces of timber.
“Oh God please help me …” She prayed desperately for the strength to withstand the onslaught that she knew was about to come.
To Be Continued ...
Sherman stood at the window of the study. He had been unable to move ever since Catherine and her official entourage came into view. The entire predicament captivated him.
He had handed responsibility over to the Lieutenant and so he must let him complete the task without interruption. But what would he do to her? The general recalled Lincoln’s Lieber Code which he had passed the previous year, not long before the great victory at Gettysburg. It contained an explicit provision prohibiting rape as an act of war. Any soldier found guilty could be executed …
He reflected on how safe this made his Goddaughter. They couldn’t rape her … could they? All provisions were superseded if it was felt that any given situation warranted urgent action due to life threatening circumstances. The Lieutenant could argue that he and his men were forced to abuse Catherine’s body in order to quickly get the results that were needed …
… but only if they had something more evidential regarding his Goddaughter’s involvement in the murder of the XV Corps soldiers. And so, for now at least Catherine was safe from being raped …
“What am I thinking?” Sherman slumped into a chair and let his head fall into his hands, more thoughts of his wife infiltrating his head. “I am so sorry darling Eleanor, that the conflict has come to this.”
He had agreed a policy of ‘total war’ with Grant, and had a mandate to ‘scorch the earth’ if required. It was the only way to end this damn struggle and of course there would be collateral damage. Innocent victims that would die for the greater good. He knew that no questions would ever be asked about a young girl alone on a plantation in deepest Georgia, especially one who had a mountain of allegations stacking up against her.
The general was not a bad person. He could be ruthless, as a Major-General he had to be, but he always thought of himself as fair and just. However, the Confederacy’s strategic, economic, and psychological ability to wage further war needed to be definitively crushed if the fighting were to end. That was why he had to make sure that even his own Goddaughter was seen to be dealt with appropriately.
Sherman knew that it was the bigger picture that was important. Not only did he need the provisions that White Orchard could supply, but he needed to retain a sense of discipline, and to do that he could show no favouritism, in any way. And besides, the stupid girl had taken matters out of his hands when the evidence had becoming damning in its implication.
Standing once more he saw Catherine moving further into the building, out of his vision, Sherman again reflected on the fact that the only hope for any respite whatsoever, was for his Goddaughter to maintain her innocence whilst suffering whatever duress the Lieutenant had planned. If she was able to do that it would allow him to call a halt to this terrible state of affairs.
Chapter 18 –The Discipline Block Out-Building at White Orchard Mansion, Around 6:20pm, May 11th 1864
The Lieutenant appeared to smile calmly but inside he could barely contain his excitement. Evans Sampson came from Maine, son of a lawyer, his father was a partner in the Paris Hill firm of Senator Hannibal Hamlin, and the younger Sampson was a ’59 graduate of Bowdoin College – indeed not the only one serving the Union cause. Like many of his neighbours and associates, young Evans took the first opportunity to join up. This was all about Virginia versus Maine, and he was not going to miss out.
It was at the college that his appetite for submissive girls took hold. Acting like the elder characters from the recently published novel about Tom Brown, he and his friends would frequent the backwater places of ill-repute, and pay handsomely for the female trash that plied their trade there to be tied and beaten. His appetite for this was voracious … but since the war he had not had the opportunity, until now that is!
Sergeant Oak was waiting for the subjugated and bound girl beside the table, a coil of rope hanging loosely from his hand.
There was no time for Catherine to wonder where he'd got it from before Sampson was behind her, his hands at her neck. In short order the collar and chain leash were removed followed by the manacles. Catherine’s relief at her freedom from these restraints was short lived as she quickly realised that the Lieutenant was simply giving himself the manoeuvrability to pull the skimpy slave fabric up and over her head.
The crowd gasped at the sight of her total nudity. The slaves were seeing their Mistress in a whole new way … some of them embarrassed, some of them infused with lust but all of them completely enthralled. It was a long time since the soldiers had seen a girl as beautiful and nubile as this one.
Catherine immediately moved to cover herself, but her humiliation was only heightened when her arms were grasped from each side and she was forced onto her knees and then face down onto the wooden plank.
“Oh no, please …” her pleadings were said quietly and served as nothing more than an additional stimulation for the perverted whims of the Lieutenant.
She knew what this was for, though it was a long time since even the slaves had suffered on this heinous contraption. She had no resistance any longer, nothing with which to fight the inevitable as her wrists were pulled into iron cuffs at the ‘head-end’ of the plank while her ankles were contained between two locked pieces of timber.
“Oh God please help me …” She prayed desperately for the strength to withstand the onslaught that she knew was about to come.
To Be Continued ...
Attachments
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
All is calm, indeed.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Wow! Excellent backstory for the Lieutenant! Do all the readers know who Hannibal Hamlin was? How soon we forget!
windar
Teller of Tales
The role of the Vice President was to be forgotten...It's only recently that they have taken an active role in governing (like Julia Louis-Dreyfus)
. Hamlin coined the term "fifth wheel" to describe his role in the Lincoln Administration...
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Thank you my friend. You need wait no longer ... well maybe one more sleep
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Thank you PrPr ... the Lieutenant was surprisingly erudite and of a certain breeding for a man in his position and of his rank ...
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
As long as that doesn't interfere with using whatever means necessary to get at
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
A
Hmmmm ... Can't see that being the case - he is a professional after all
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Poor Sherman! And he could not even rely on psychotherapy after the war, since it was not yet invented!
malins
Stumbling Seeker
Yes, and that is actually a tiny bit of an anachronism in the story (not meant even remotely as criticism, as it would be super difficult to remember when writing sentences for dialog from the Civil War era, to not use any words that are common nowadays but did not exist or were not used in that way in the 1860s...Poor Sherman! And he could not even rely on psychotherapy after the war, since it was not yet invented!
'Trauma' in the sense of a psychological challenge or injury wasn't going to be used even in the most academic circles for another generation.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Great point, and no offense taken my friend. I did try to keep dialogue as close as I could to what I believed it should be from the era - such as keeping most of the apostrophe's out eg He is instead of he's etc.
Will certainly keep a more keen eye out for future posts.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Chapter 18 –The Discipline Block Out-Building at White Orchard Mansion, Around 6:20pm, May 11th 1864 … (Continued)
Several of the slaves prayed too, but it was the younger ones and the house slaves in the main, because the older males were watching with a glint in their eyes, hardly believing what they were witnessing.
As Mercy grunted and lurched forward, her anguished mother reached out from her adjacent position to hold her daughter steady, as the poor slave girl, stumbled again.
“Have strength my darling little girl,” her mama whispered into Mercy’s ear, as the grunt turned into a gasp followed by a groan.
Her mother glanced backwards, but she knew what she would see. Tom Shepherd’s calloused hands at her daughter’s hips, the dirty shift, threadbare shift hanging loose from her otherwise naked body and his groin thrusting into her.
In the midst of her Mistress’ suffering, Mercy was being savagely raped and no one was paying any attention whatsoever. A tear rolled down her dusky cheek as the young slave held onto a wooden chair at her front, her mama’s hand tightening its grip on her arm.
Shepherd was in ecstasy. His thick hard cock embedded within the wet, warm body of a nubile slave, his favourite nubile slave, whilst he watched these soldier boys degrade his bitch Mistress. He had his whip ready at hand should they need any assistance …
Sergeant Oak positioned the rope under the plank at the ‘foot-end’ and slipped it over the winch mechanism. Catherine screamed when the board was raised from the floor at a 45-degree angle, leaving her feet higher than her head.
Despite having the front of her naked body flat to the timber, the poor girl had never felt more uncovered. She could hardly move, and suddenly she was very scared … and for good reason, because the bound position severely restricted her movement and exposed the unprotected and upturned soles of her feet to the monsters that had now moved to her rear.
Lieutenant Sampson however remained at her front, where Catherine could look directly at his boots and legs just a few inches from her head.
“Hurt her,” the Lieutenant then said with a simple clarity.
Catherine whimpered. She knew that to beg would only heighten their sadistic pleasure.
No matter how much she struggled, she wouldn't be able to move her feet enough to avoid their attention. Sampson pulled up a chair and looked down into her eyes.
"I don't suppose you would know much about Bastinado, would you? Or maybe, when you were young, you sneaked outside and saw your daddy disciplining the darkies huh?" As he spoke the light tapping of two sticks, beaten like a boy at the drums, began on the long dusty table top that stood to the side of the plank upon which she lay, building up a steady, rhythm. Catherine, with a queasiness circulating inside the pit of her stomach, shook her head, hardly noticeable had the Lieutenant not been watching for it.
"No, I didn't think you would. Well I guess a practical demonstration would be far more effective than a dry old history lesson, don't you? Maybe we can show you what it was that your daddy used to do to his slaves when he disappeared into here for hours on end. Do you remember those times Miss McCown … do you?"
This time he didn't get a response from Catherine, he hadn't really expected one. When he moved behind her, Catherine's eyes followed him as far as they could, until the restraints arrested her movement. His commentary continued, though it took a slightly different line. This time he definitely wasn't expecting any answers.
"Remember what I asked you Catherine? This is your final chance. Tell us about the notebook and the bag.”
He said the words but hoped that the bound beauty before him would not respond. He did not want to miss out on this fun, no sir!
The sticks renewed their rhythmic tapping on the far end of the table.
"Actually, when I said ‘hurt’ I should not have used that word. Hurt is such a soft word, I always think, a weak word, open to misinterpretation. Personally, I prefer the word torture. It makes things so much clearer in the victim's mind I find, it concentrates their thoughts beautifully. So, torture is the word I'm going to use with you Catherine. You've been an errant young lady and now I'm going to torture you. Make sure you do not ever make that mistake again. You will tell us what we need to know."
Catherine began to struggle, but she was secured far too efficiently, and so after a few seconds she lay still again. The Sergeant's tap-tapping of the sticks went on. It was scaring her beyond comprehension, she could feel the vibrations at the side of her body, as Sampson continued his discourse.
"Victim. Now there's a word that conjures up a different image altogether. Such a lovely word, do you not think so? That is you, is it not, Miss McCown? Do you suppose that you are the victim here? Or is it those poor soldier boys you helped to murder?"
She jumped as the sound of the sticks beating against the table stopped suddenly. The Lieutenant took the lengths of wood from Oak and transferred their attention to the sole of her left foot. Beating out the same steady, repetitive rhythm as if striking a drum, as he continued to talk menacingly to her.
Catherine gritted her teeth as the sticks repeatedly, but lightly, berated her sole.
"Shall I tell you something interesting?" He paused, expecting no reply, and getting none.
"Soon you will be begging us to stop Catherine. Willing to tell us anything and everything if only we'll stop hurting you. Sorry, torturing you."
This time he did get a response. A muffled "Go to hell Lieutenant!”
Her response made Sampson smile. The continual rhythm he was tapping out on her feet was clearly getting to Catherine, terrifying her, but it wasn't really hurting. Yet still the pitter-patter of the sticks went on, a faint tapping sound echoed around a room that had fallen strangely silent.
Silent that was save for the shuffling feet and muffled cries of young Mercy, as the brute raping her spilled his thick seed into her abused body.
“Hold on child, I’m here for you.” Her mama had placed her own hand over the mouth of her abused daughter to save her from making any sound.
Shepherd came hard and then pulled out of the slave’s dripping pussy so that he could concentrate on the real matter at hand, a situation that seemed to be growing in its interest. Naked, Mercy slipped to the floor, her skimpy covering already laying there, and she clutched her mama’s leg seeking comfort.
"Oh yes Miss McCown, you will sing to us, of that there is no doubt." Suddenly the Lieutenant’s voice was more serious. "Soon young lady, it's getting closer."
For a few seconds, the rhythm slowed, before picking up again, faster this time.
"You will beg us because you want us to stop hurting you. But we'll just keep on going, and your need to say anything at all to make us stop will become so strong that you will not be able hide it from us anymore. You will know when you reach that point, and so will we. Then we'll stop and you can speak to us. Tell us what we want to hear.”
Catherine had heard every single one of his words, and now he seemed to have finished she paused for a second before replying, “Damn you Lieutenant, damn you all to hell!”
He smiled as his gaze lowered onto her firm and peachy bare ass staring up at him from the plank, but the rhythm went on relentlessly. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter, like wind driven raindrops on a windowpane he drummed out his twisted tune.
He paused for a second. "Soon," he said quietly, and then delivered the first real blow.
Catherine never saw it coming. The speed of its delivery even caught Sergeant Oak by surprise. Without breaking rhythm, Sampson swung one of the sticks hard, hitting the sole of her foot with all the power he could muster. Indescribable pain shot up the length of her left leg like a fireball exploding into her body. The watching audience gasped in unison.
“Aaarrrghhhhhhhhhhhh!”
Catherine writhed and squirmed on the wood, contorting before her back arched and her first unearthly shriek filled the room. The pain and terror combined to bring a brittle, razor-edged resonance to the sound.
This was totally alien to her. Catherine had never subscribed to the servitude aspect of slavery preferring to treat the slaves at White Orchard with respect and civility. She had never seen this room nor this contraption … bastinado he called it … put to real use. Yet now here she was suffering at its odious pleasure, begging for its unseen mercy.
Sampson’s eyes shifted from the girl to Sergeant Oak, noting the surprise in his face. He waited to see what his response would be. The Sergeant’s head was nodding and a smirk broke out on his lips. There had been real pain in her scream, genuine agony, authentic fear, and it had stiffened his groin.
Long before Catherine's shrieking cries deteriorated into a low, persistent keening, the pitter-patter of the sticks in the Lieutenant’s hand took up their rhythm all over again. This time it was played out on the sole of her other foot, and with the beating of the sticks came the sound of his voice. Softly and persistently, taking full advantage of her vulnerability, he began to mock the poor, bound girl.
"How did you like that?" He asked. "Still reckon you can withstand this pain, do you?"
Shepherd’s cock was feeling stimulated again. Despite his most recent conquest still sobbing quietly at her mama’s feet, the scene being played out here was like nothing he could have ever imagined. He would play his part at some point, he simply must. Degrading this young, little bitch would be his ultimate pleasure!
For a few seconds Catherine struggled wildly, but the restraints binding her to the plank were secured too tightly, too firmly. In fact, the harder she struggled, the more the fetters seemed to tighten around her.
She soon gave up and, despite the discomfort of her deportment, lay quietly on the wood, trembling and whimpering softly as she waited for the pain to visit her again. Catherine could only move her foot an inch or so, and the sticks followed her relentlessly. The drumming began again. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter.
This time he didn't keep her waiting quite so long, though the final slashing blow was delivered with equal ferocity. For a second time Catherine's body contorted in agony, and the block filled with her shrieking screams as Sampson quickly switched his attention back to her left foot.
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter. When Catherine began to babble, he did nothing to dissuade her; to him the sound of her pleading voice was sweet, like the taste of wild honey on the tip of his tongue.
"No," she whimpered, "please, no more. It hurts, it hurts too much."
All she could hear was his laughter; all she could feel was the sticks beating out their cruel rhythm on the soles of her feet.
"That's the point Catherine, it's meant to hurt … to torture you, no point doing it if it doesn't. Are you ready to start talking to us yet Catherine? You know what we want to hear."
He knew she wasn't ready yet, not by a long way. He could see and feel her body tensing as she gritted her teeth and tried to resist. She was still trying to deny the inevitable, but already her breathing was coming in short, pained gasps as she tried to anticipate when the next blow was going to fall. That was the true beauty of bastinado; the anguish of the wait was every bit as painful as the blinding instant of agony when the next blow fell.
He looked across at the Sergeant and nodded. “Next time,” he said, “Next time I hurt her she will start begging for it to stop. Next time she really will want it to end, and she will say anything just to put an end to the pain.”
He kept her waiting a very long time. Pausing occasionally, and altering the pitter-patter rhythm of the sticks several times, he tempted her into that certain belief that the blow was about to fall. Watching her body as it tensed in anticipation and then relaxed slightly when the blow failed to materialise. He chose the moment she was least expecting it to drive the jolt home, the moment when the pain would be at its most intense. That was when Catherine really cried out. Screamed with the throbbing agony and she began to shake uncontrollably.
"Please, leave me alone. Do not hurt me anymore I beg of you. I won't give you any trouble, not one little bit ... just stop, please."
Every time she begged, Sampson came back at her with the same reply.
"Not yet Catherine, you can take a lot more punishment than this. Besides, we need to hear you begging for us to stop, and you are not yet begging with enough sincerity!"
So the torment continued, the remorseless tapping on her feet, followed by that blinding instant of white-hot pain that lost none of its potency with repetition. Steadily the desperation of her bearing increased in its urgency. Now her whole body was quaking, her eyes were wide and staring, and her lips drawn back over her teeth in an ugly grimace. Everything the Lieutenant had said, was happening, and finally Catherine began to beg them to stop.
"Please, please stop. I will do anything you want, say anything you want … no more please, I beg you Sir." She groaned, desperate to feel relief from this perpetual torment and put a stop to the pain racking her body.
"For God's sake please … STOP!”
To Be Continued ...
Footnote - There were no safeguards to protect the slaves from being sexually stalked, harassed, or raped, or to be used as long-term concubines by masters and overseers. The abuse was widespread, as the men with authority took advantage of their situation. Even if a woman seemed agreeable to the situation, in reality she had no choice.
- Conditions of Antebellum Slavery 1830-1860
The part of Mercy is played by the sensually submissive, beautiful bondage girl, Skin Diamond.
Several of the slaves prayed too, but it was the younger ones and the house slaves in the main, because the older males were watching with a glint in their eyes, hardly believing what they were witnessing.
As Mercy grunted and lurched forward, her anguished mother reached out from her adjacent position to hold her daughter steady, as the poor slave girl, stumbled again.
“Have strength my darling little girl,” her mama whispered into Mercy’s ear, as the grunt turned into a gasp followed by a groan.
Her mother glanced backwards, but she knew what she would see. Tom Shepherd’s calloused hands at her daughter’s hips, the dirty shift, threadbare shift hanging loose from her otherwise naked body and his groin thrusting into her.
In the midst of her Mistress’ suffering, Mercy was being savagely raped and no one was paying any attention whatsoever. A tear rolled down her dusky cheek as the young slave held onto a wooden chair at her front, her mama’s hand tightening its grip on her arm.
Shepherd was in ecstasy. His thick hard cock embedded within the wet, warm body of a nubile slave, his favourite nubile slave, whilst he watched these soldier boys degrade his bitch Mistress. He had his whip ready at hand should they need any assistance …
Sergeant Oak positioned the rope under the plank at the ‘foot-end’ and slipped it over the winch mechanism. Catherine screamed when the board was raised from the floor at a 45-degree angle, leaving her feet higher than her head.
Despite having the front of her naked body flat to the timber, the poor girl had never felt more uncovered. She could hardly move, and suddenly she was very scared … and for good reason, because the bound position severely restricted her movement and exposed the unprotected and upturned soles of her feet to the monsters that had now moved to her rear.
Lieutenant Sampson however remained at her front, where Catherine could look directly at his boots and legs just a few inches from her head.
“Hurt her,” the Lieutenant then said with a simple clarity.
Catherine whimpered. She knew that to beg would only heighten their sadistic pleasure.
No matter how much she struggled, she wouldn't be able to move her feet enough to avoid their attention. Sampson pulled up a chair and looked down into her eyes.
"I don't suppose you would know much about Bastinado, would you? Or maybe, when you were young, you sneaked outside and saw your daddy disciplining the darkies huh?" As he spoke the light tapping of two sticks, beaten like a boy at the drums, began on the long dusty table top that stood to the side of the plank upon which she lay, building up a steady, rhythm. Catherine, with a queasiness circulating inside the pit of her stomach, shook her head, hardly noticeable had the Lieutenant not been watching for it.
"No, I didn't think you would. Well I guess a practical demonstration would be far more effective than a dry old history lesson, don't you? Maybe we can show you what it was that your daddy used to do to his slaves when he disappeared into here for hours on end. Do you remember those times Miss McCown … do you?"
This time he didn't get a response from Catherine, he hadn't really expected one. When he moved behind her, Catherine's eyes followed him as far as they could, until the restraints arrested her movement. His commentary continued, though it took a slightly different line. This time he definitely wasn't expecting any answers.
"Remember what I asked you Catherine? This is your final chance. Tell us about the notebook and the bag.”
He said the words but hoped that the bound beauty before him would not respond. He did not want to miss out on this fun, no sir!
The sticks renewed their rhythmic tapping on the far end of the table.
"Actually, when I said ‘hurt’ I should not have used that word. Hurt is such a soft word, I always think, a weak word, open to misinterpretation. Personally, I prefer the word torture. It makes things so much clearer in the victim's mind I find, it concentrates their thoughts beautifully. So, torture is the word I'm going to use with you Catherine. You've been an errant young lady and now I'm going to torture you. Make sure you do not ever make that mistake again. You will tell us what we need to know."
Catherine began to struggle, but she was secured far too efficiently, and so after a few seconds she lay still again. The Sergeant's tap-tapping of the sticks went on. It was scaring her beyond comprehension, she could feel the vibrations at the side of her body, as Sampson continued his discourse.
"Victim. Now there's a word that conjures up a different image altogether. Such a lovely word, do you not think so? That is you, is it not, Miss McCown? Do you suppose that you are the victim here? Or is it those poor soldier boys you helped to murder?"
She jumped as the sound of the sticks beating against the table stopped suddenly. The Lieutenant took the lengths of wood from Oak and transferred their attention to the sole of her left foot. Beating out the same steady, repetitive rhythm as if striking a drum, as he continued to talk menacingly to her.
Catherine gritted her teeth as the sticks repeatedly, but lightly, berated her sole.
"Shall I tell you something interesting?" He paused, expecting no reply, and getting none.
"Soon you will be begging us to stop Catherine. Willing to tell us anything and everything if only we'll stop hurting you. Sorry, torturing you."
This time he did get a response. A muffled "Go to hell Lieutenant!”
Her response made Sampson smile. The continual rhythm he was tapping out on her feet was clearly getting to Catherine, terrifying her, but it wasn't really hurting. Yet still the pitter-patter of the sticks went on, a faint tapping sound echoed around a room that had fallen strangely silent.
Silent that was save for the shuffling feet and muffled cries of young Mercy, as the brute raping her spilled his thick seed into her abused body.
“Hold on child, I’m here for you.” Her mama had placed her own hand over the mouth of her abused daughter to save her from making any sound.
Shepherd came hard and then pulled out of the slave’s dripping pussy so that he could concentrate on the real matter at hand, a situation that seemed to be growing in its interest. Naked, Mercy slipped to the floor, her skimpy covering already laying there, and she clutched her mama’s leg seeking comfort.
"Oh yes Miss McCown, you will sing to us, of that there is no doubt." Suddenly the Lieutenant’s voice was more serious. "Soon young lady, it's getting closer."
For a few seconds, the rhythm slowed, before picking up again, faster this time.
"You will beg us because you want us to stop hurting you. But we'll just keep on going, and your need to say anything at all to make us stop will become so strong that you will not be able hide it from us anymore. You will know when you reach that point, and so will we. Then we'll stop and you can speak to us. Tell us what we want to hear.”
Catherine had heard every single one of his words, and now he seemed to have finished she paused for a second before replying, “Damn you Lieutenant, damn you all to hell!”
He smiled as his gaze lowered onto her firm and peachy bare ass staring up at him from the plank, but the rhythm went on relentlessly. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter, like wind driven raindrops on a windowpane he drummed out his twisted tune.
He paused for a second. "Soon," he said quietly, and then delivered the first real blow.
Catherine never saw it coming. The speed of its delivery even caught Sergeant Oak by surprise. Without breaking rhythm, Sampson swung one of the sticks hard, hitting the sole of her foot with all the power he could muster. Indescribable pain shot up the length of her left leg like a fireball exploding into her body. The watching audience gasped in unison.
“Aaarrrghhhhhhhhhhhh!”
Catherine writhed and squirmed on the wood, contorting before her back arched and her first unearthly shriek filled the room. The pain and terror combined to bring a brittle, razor-edged resonance to the sound.
This was totally alien to her. Catherine had never subscribed to the servitude aspect of slavery preferring to treat the slaves at White Orchard with respect and civility. She had never seen this room nor this contraption … bastinado he called it … put to real use. Yet now here she was suffering at its odious pleasure, begging for its unseen mercy.
Sampson’s eyes shifted from the girl to Sergeant Oak, noting the surprise in his face. He waited to see what his response would be. The Sergeant’s head was nodding and a smirk broke out on his lips. There had been real pain in her scream, genuine agony, authentic fear, and it had stiffened his groin.
Long before Catherine's shrieking cries deteriorated into a low, persistent keening, the pitter-patter of the sticks in the Lieutenant’s hand took up their rhythm all over again. This time it was played out on the sole of her other foot, and with the beating of the sticks came the sound of his voice. Softly and persistently, taking full advantage of her vulnerability, he began to mock the poor, bound girl.
"How did you like that?" He asked. "Still reckon you can withstand this pain, do you?"
Shepherd’s cock was feeling stimulated again. Despite his most recent conquest still sobbing quietly at her mama’s feet, the scene being played out here was like nothing he could have ever imagined. He would play his part at some point, he simply must. Degrading this young, little bitch would be his ultimate pleasure!
For a few seconds Catherine struggled wildly, but the restraints binding her to the plank were secured too tightly, too firmly. In fact, the harder she struggled, the more the fetters seemed to tighten around her.
She soon gave up and, despite the discomfort of her deportment, lay quietly on the wood, trembling and whimpering softly as she waited for the pain to visit her again. Catherine could only move her foot an inch or so, and the sticks followed her relentlessly. The drumming began again. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter.
This time he didn't keep her waiting quite so long, though the final slashing blow was delivered with equal ferocity. For a second time Catherine's body contorted in agony, and the block filled with her shrieking screams as Sampson quickly switched his attention back to her left foot.
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter. When Catherine began to babble, he did nothing to dissuade her; to him the sound of her pleading voice was sweet, like the taste of wild honey on the tip of his tongue.
"No," she whimpered, "please, no more. It hurts, it hurts too much."
All she could hear was his laughter; all she could feel was the sticks beating out their cruel rhythm on the soles of her feet.
"That's the point Catherine, it's meant to hurt … to torture you, no point doing it if it doesn't. Are you ready to start talking to us yet Catherine? You know what we want to hear."
He knew she wasn't ready yet, not by a long way. He could see and feel her body tensing as she gritted her teeth and tried to resist. She was still trying to deny the inevitable, but already her breathing was coming in short, pained gasps as she tried to anticipate when the next blow was going to fall. That was the true beauty of bastinado; the anguish of the wait was every bit as painful as the blinding instant of agony when the next blow fell.
He looked across at the Sergeant and nodded. “Next time,” he said, “Next time I hurt her she will start begging for it to stop. Next time she really will want it to end, and she will say anything just to put an end to the pain.”
He kept her waiting a very long time. Pausing occasionally, and altering the pitter-patter rhythm of the sticks several times, he tempted her into that certain belief that the blow was about to fall. Watching her body as it tensed in anticipation and then relaxed slightly when the blow failed to materialise. He chose the moment she was least expecting it to drive the jolt home, the moment when the pain would be at its most intense. That was when Catherine really cried out. Screamed with the throbbing agony and she began to shake uncontrollably.
"Please, leave me alone. Do not hurt me anymore I beg of you. I won't give you any trouble, not one little bit ... just stop, please."
Every time she begged, Sampson came back at her with the same reply.
"Not yet Catherine, you can take a lot more punishment than this. Besides, we need to hear you begging for us to stop, and you are not yet begging with enough sincerity!"
So the torment continued, the remorseless tapping on her feet, followed by that blinding instant of white-hot pain that lost none of its potency with repetition. Steadily the desperation of her bearing increased in its urgency. Now her whole body was quaking, her eyes were wide and staring, and her lips drawn back over her teeth in an ugly grimace. Everything the Lieutenant had said, was happening, and finally Catherine began to beg them to stop.
"Please, please stop. I will do anything you want, say anything you want … no more please, I beg you Sir." She groaned, desperate to feel relief from this perpetual torment and put a stop to the pain racking her body.
"For God's sake please … STOP!”
To Be Continued ...
Footnote - There were no safeguards to protect the slaves from being sexually stalked, harassed, or raped, or to be used as long-term concubines by masters and overseers. The abuse was widespread, as the men with authority took advantage of their situation. Even if a woman seemed agreeable to the situation, in reality she had no choice.
- Conditions of Antebellum Slavery 1830-1860
The part of Mercy is played by the sensually submissive, beautiful bondage girl, Skin Diamond.
