• Sign up or login, and you'll have full access to opportunities of forum.
Go to CruxDreams.com
Loved this depiction of her foreboding at the sight of the post, followed by a description …so real and engaging that I read it twice … of her determined show of resignation coupled with brave defiance … as she freed herself to make her own way to the post. As I said in an earlier post …. I can identify with Valeria so so much!
MMMM------- Save some of that imagination, you need it for Pirate Cay!
 
The Wall – 18


After checking the bindings that secured their victim, the guards hoisted the chains higher until her toes had completely left the ground. Swinging, hanging full stretch by the wrists, Valeria cried out in agony as she writhed and thrashed, tugging and twisting at the confining straps trying to free herself ... but too weakened by struggle she soon gave up this useless attempt. The watching crowd, the salivating guards along with Governor Nepos and his guests, all marvelled at the delectable sight … the skin of Valeria’s back and shoulders stretched irrevocably tight, ready for the whip.

The multitude cheered.

The Roman girl’s finger nails, now no longer manicured but chipped and broken, dug deep into her palms, as tears of defeat and fear flooded and shimmered in her eyes. Her breasts spread around the post, quivering either side of the wooden column as she craned her neck backwards over her left shoulder. As she saw the guards move away, Valeria whimpered, her eyes closed to frightened slits.

Shifting her gaze to the right, a long, high gasp of disbelief escaped her constricted throat, sending Valeria’s heart to flutter in her chest. Dozens of implements lay on a nearby table: staffs, scythes, garrottes, knives, swords, lariat ropes, braided nets bordered by small hooks. On the base of an iron stand, was placed a smoking brazier with a poker thrust into it, glowing white-hot.

Distracted by a sudden breeze blowing motes of dust, she glimpsed back, and saw him. The man, huge, hulking, naked save for a loin cloth. Ripples of terror ran up and down her spine. He had been standing there the whole time, had no doubt been sizing up her tolerance for pain, how long she would last under the rigors of the lash ...

His gaze met Valeria’s and he smirked seeing her eyes clearly for the first time … bewildered, vulnerable and filled with tears. Time seemed to close around them. For a moment they were frozen even in motion as they regarded one another. A small horrific vignette … Blood rushed hot to her cheeks, her suspended legs trembling, feet tingling as she regarded at the fearsome variety of whips on display.

Then she saw him select the instrument that would be the weapon of her torment. The black onyx handle glistened under sun’s light, held tight in the man’s grip, its ribbed coil polished with a shiny stiffening wax to render it taut as a rod and crack with a single flick of a wrist. Twisted into wide, very thin loops, the braided leather tapered to spliced tips, each laced with a small shard of dark foreboding iron. It was a scourge; it would shred her body to pieces and at that moment Valeria knew that she need not worry about what will happen after her flogging is over …

He started to move closer to the place in which she was bound and the watching crowd, swollen ten-fold now, began a slow clap, adding to the scene’s already high drama. His movement forced a pleading whimper from Valeria’s throat, and sent the pit of her stomach into a wild swirl.

“Pl … pl …please ... no, no, please.”

“Hear how she pleads,” Nepos spoke quietly from his seated position, wine cup in hand, to his guests. But Aulus could not speak. Never had he seen anything to deliciously erotic. His cock was hard and his throat constricted, so in its stead he simply nodded.

“... Nooooooo ...” Valeria wailed in horror, each rapid breath becoming more shallow as her bare back tensed in a vain attempt to provide protection from the imminent blow. Too numb with fright, too shocked to even speak, she heaved in high, surrendering moans ...

The approach of footsteps made her heart race. His approach unseen, she knew not that he unfurled the whip as he got nearer. The taut, wiry, barbed lash came alive in his hand, slithering as it sprang forth, bouncing lightly, scraping the dusty floor.

Valeria closed her eyes, gritted her teeth and clenched her fists placing all of her weight on her already torn wrists and aching shoulders. Her toes flexed, grasping for purchase on the wooden platform, but she was more than a cubitum (approximately eighteen inches) from the floor …

Despite the width of the wooden post her breasts had been forced either side, her squirming body adding to the smooth polished surface. Valeria’s slender thighs tried to grip at something … anything. But there was nothing and it was all to no avail.

“Get on with it!”

“Flog the cunt”

“Show her what happens to whores!”

It was clear that the ‘her story’ had preceded her arrival at Vindolanda. The crowd wanted to see the traitorous whore flogged, scourged, lashed … they demanded blood, humiliation and pain … possibly even more, and they were about to get it.

“Why?” she whispered to herself, as she felt her long, bedraggled hair gripped in the fist of a guard and moved over her right shoulder to expose the full surface of her back.

And then it began …


To Be Continued ...
 
With her body weak and her chest heaving, Valeria surrendered to the intense animal eroticism of the moment, hating it but unable to avoid the sensation of lust that emanated from every watching body, whether male or female.
A marvelous description - rich, full, and arresting!
Shifting her gaze to the right, a long, high gasp of disbelief escaped her constricted throat, sending Valeria’s heart to flutter in her chest. Dozens of implements lay on a nearby table: staffs, scythes, garrottes, knives, swords, lariat ropes, braided nets bordered by small hooks. On the base of an iron stand, was placed a smoking brazier with a poker thrust into it, glowing white-hot.
OH MY GOD!
His gaze met Valeria’s and he smirked seeing her eyes clearly for the first time … bewildered, vulnerable and filled with tears. Time seemed to close around them. For a moment they were frozen even in motion as they regarded one another. A small horrific vignette … Blood rushed hot to her cheeks, her suspended legs trembling, feet tingling as she regarded at the fearsome variety of whips on display.
A wonderful little vignette of the two connecting in their gaze - it is mesmerizing!

Barb's praise is only too well deserved.
 
The Wall – 19


The dark lash, whisked up with a quick, fluid whistle, then came down with a sharp, snapping slash. Valeria tensed, releasing an unwitting cry of terror as the stroke ripped a gash of wild, bleeding, agony across her smooth flesh. She pressed her slender, bare thighs together, her body twisting and squirming against the wooden post.

“... you are here because you took liberties despite your privileged position as the wife of a respected citizen,” Nepos shouted through bared teeth, his tone firm and unyielding, “… not the least of which was indulging in illicit, treasonous affections for which you received payment ...”

Valeria’s pulse beat erratically, blood pounding at her temples. She sensed rage in his voice and for the first time she truly understood that whatever the truth of her perilous circumstance, the perception of everyone was that she had indeed been the perpetrator of this so-called infamous and heinous crime.

Once more the brute wielding the scourge jerked the lash towards its delicate victim with a sudden slashing sound.

“... dance for us Valeria, like the whore that you are!”

It was her husband shouting now, that pathetic excuse for a man who had done this to her.

Then for a third time the flagellator lifted his fist, the sound of the whip raised with unflinching clarity as silence fell all around. Valeria thrust her gaze forward, wincing, lips parting in disbelief, trembling, breathing fast. He let the whip fly through the air and she clenched her fists. With eyes closed tight, she prepared for the worst, and she received it, feeling the whip curl around her tender body with a swish, the hard, barbed tips biting and ripping as it went about its painstaking business.

The next lash was aimed at the backs of her thighs, but Valeria felt the stroke drag so that it curled around and tore also at the fronts of her legs. As if from another body, some ethereal soul, the poor girl heard herself draw a shuddering draught of air.

Surely this could not be happening to her?

Panting with loud, hysterical stridency, somehow finding desperate supernatural strength, she lifted her entire body by her cuffed wrists. Legs bent at the knees, she looked down and saw the fresh blood already covering the platform beneath her feet, and then Valeria braced herself again.

The scourge cracked just below her hips, above the relentless stiffening in her loins, leaving a rake of deep welts and gouges. Her ordinarily beautiful face twisted with the suddenness of the fresh pain but despite her wide opened mouth, barely a sound came forth.

The next stroke lashed at the firm curves of Valeria’s buttocks, forcing a loud scream, her body jerking instinctively away from the impact. It sliced the skin clean through, leaving it raw. Blood surged out from beneath the line of horrific gashes, as her body began to accumulate a vast number of bloody marks.

Another swing, then a swish and then she felt the barbed iron tips gripping at the sides of her exposed breasts. With effort, Valeria, despite being overwhelmed by the need to scream, choked back the whimpering sobs welling higher in her throat.

She had heard it said that once one started to scream one lost the fight against the torturers. But as the next lash grazed her inner thighs, the pitiable Valeria lost all control, consumed by a fit of convulsive shuddering, and she realised that by not screaming she was only encouraging the flagellator to hit her body harder...

Twisting her neck just a little the ravaged beauty saw a muscular body twist from side to side, twirling the horrific lashes over his head in a circular motion, each swing emitting a portentous noise, gaining momentum ... more and more and then … he plied the whip lengthwise across the middle of her back with an even louder and harsher slash.

The cruel tips digging deeper into the skin below her shoulders drove a shriek of agony from Valeria’s desperately parched lips.

She knew not why she was catching the cry in her throat, biting it back, nor why she hung mute as two more strokes fell, fizzing and searing into her flesh, her back split open again and again by the hissing, slashing scourge …

The man was clearly an artist with this instrument of damnation. He hurled it backwards and applied a terrible drag diagonally from shoulder to hip across her already torn and battered flesh, to open up the tight, lengthwise pattern of welts already laid there ...

When the final lash fell, shearing open the backs of her thighs once more with a ripping crack, her scream reached a flaring, piercing crescendo ... then suddenly faded ... Her cognisance recessing dizzily down a mystifying well of elusive memory, and myriad confusion, her body racked beyond what her mind could bear. Her head fell forward against the post, and then ... only blackness.

At the commencement of this most savage flogging the crowd had been boisterous, filled with a sense of entertainment, almost as if they had been called to a celebratory holding of the Roman Gladiatorial Games. But as the lashing continued, becoming more and more severe, literally beating the life of the vulnerable, exposed, denuded victim, their amusement was replaced by something all the more hideous. As the feminine beauty was torn to shreds some had started to look away, a few had been unable to avoid looking at all … but many had felt an unseemly stirring in their loins.

Valeria was lifeless, unmoving and not one of the voyeurs in the crowd knew whether she was alive or dead.

“Has he killed her?” Aulus asked with a weak undertone to his words.

“Hard to say brother,” Tiberius replied.

Aulus simply nodded, as the man next to him, Governor Nepos, stepped forward a pace.

“Bring out the horse,” Nepos shouted and a buzz of excitement ran through the crowd, “… and the barbarian slut.”

His words were greeted with a loud and renewed enthusiasm.


To Be Continued ...
 
“Bring out the horse,” Nepos shouted and a buzz of excitement ran through the crowd, “… and the barbarian slut.”
A horse ? To do what ? Is she going to be dragged ? :monoloco:

It's astonishing to see how men can take their pleasure in torturing women ! This description is so much realistic ...
Well done, Fossy, you made me ..................... wet ... Yes, WET ! :eek::rolleyes:
 
It's astonishing to see how men can take their pleasure in torturing women ! This description is so much realistic ...
Well done, Fossy, you made me ..................... wet ... Yes, WET !
It seems like a least one woman takes pleasure in the thought of torturing a woman!

For more background on the border, Hadrian was defending,
 
The Wall – 20


Without a word, the two nominated guards barged into Lilah’s makeshift, but very effective, prison cell. Having unchained the barbarian captive, she was dragged to her feet whereupon manacles were once more closed around her delicate wrists before being snapped shut and locked in place.

As Lilah was led out of the stone store room and away from the town, she became ever more anxious. The soldiers had not spoken and she too had remained sullen and silent, but inside, her stomach was reeling. Was this the end? Was she about to meet the Gods and be reunited with Rufus? The thought comforted her just a little.

The short length of chain at her wrists jingled in harrowing silence as her fingers flexed and fumbled nervously. Each time that she staggered backwards on her way up the grassy bank towards the wall, the guards dragged her stumbling forward.

It left Lilah no other choice but to focus all her strength on completing this walk to the place where her captors would inflict their cruelties upon her. Then, as they got nearer to where the place of her imminent torment was to be, she heard the sound of laughter, the fanfare of music, a burst of cheering, the clicking of fingers and applause. Lilah looked around at a mass of leering faces. A huge crowd had formed on the small hill just outside the North Gate facing the place where the new barricade was being built.

There were harlots and town women, girls and serving maids but it was the men who leered the most. Clad in short tunics knotted over the shoulder, some wearing little else, men whom she knew longed to see whips applied to bare flesh, men who derived pleasure from witnessing pain. As the guards marched her closer and closer, she saw the brutal scene unfold before.

Lilah fell to her knees.

“hæfde êow?” (what have you done?) she whispered to herself. Her gaze settled on the slumped body of her former cell mate. The fragile Roman girl … she was torn and broken; her flesh literally ripped to shreds …

“Get up barbarian cunt,” growled one of her escorts. As Lilah was pulled to her feet the crowd struck up a whisper and then jeered in a garbled din, all voices flowing together into a singular, unintelligible hum. She couldn’t see any of the bastards that had visited her cell, but knew they were here, somewhere close by, probably making wagers on how many lashes she could take before she passed out.

She would show them.

In silence, the Brigante bride walked evenly, slowly, utterly unable to conceal herself, giving them all a clear view of what they wanted to see. A certain mystique seemed to surround her … a savage barbarian, naked and exposed walking to her place of torture.

But Lilah heaved unwittingly with fright when her eyes fell upon the open space where the wooden horse, fitted with shackles and restraining straps, rested. Impulsively tugging away from the hold of her escorts she cried out with a fear she could no longer hold at bay, her gaze resting on the sharpened, splintered pointed edge of the horse’s surface.

Once she reached the massive trestle, one of the guards maneuvered her so that she could mount the device in the manner in which she might otherwise mount a real horse.

“Step onto it, cunt ...” As one of the legionaries gripped her arms to manhandle Lilah into position, the guard at her head gripped her hair in order to stop her from struggling. Bent forwards, Lilah’s fettered hands clutched feverishly at the fists pulling at her roots with such a vicious hold, but the shackles made any resistance difficult to attain.

Thick leather straps were buckled high around each of Lilah’s slender thighs, then both ankles were snapped into the iron restraints below. With a flick of dextrous fingers Lilah saw her wrist shackles unlocked, only to find the same part of her body quickly relocked into a steel clasp at the ‘horses head’, which was in turn attached to a ratcheted wheel. When he turned the crank, the clasp moved forward.

Lilah groaned as her back tensed and her bare buttocks tightened involuntarily, the movement of the rachet wheel pulling her forward along the length of the sharp edge of the device.

Lilah screamed as the sharp, splintered wood parted her thighs to dig harshly at the soft folds within, and the crowd vented their appreciation in a vociferous manner.

With a grunt, the guard tightened the devil’s wheel another two notches until her upper body was bent at the waist at an angle almost perpendicular to the horse. Amid a chorus of cackles and cheers … the crowd having re-found their lust for violence, blood rushed quickly to Lilah’s cheeks.

She thrust her head down between her extended arms, her face burning with shame. Bending over like this only accentuated her curves, her firm, young breasts and equally well-defined buttocks, which she knew would be a prime target for the lash.

A swift breeze blew up the back of her legs and over her ass, causing her to wriggle and shiver, which in turn incited the watching crowd, each member of which was now infused by a heightened level of lust. Lilah’s exposed flesh was already sheened with a coating of cold sweat, as she began to shudder once more. Turning her head sideways, she saw a girl, a harlot, a prostitute … a whore, approach with a large jug of ale, making rounds to entertain the crowd as they watched the spectacle unfold. The sight of this slut, and many other girls doing the same, somehow added to the barbarian’s degradation …

Unseen by Lilah, who was doing all she could not to look at the bloody body slumped at the whipping post next to her, Nepos had approached and now stood looking at his captive beauty.

“Friends, comrades, countrymen,” his voice boomed above her, “... after so many years of desperate fights and insurrection from the barbarian hordes, as you can see, we are building a wall. But moreover, by making sure the savages see how we treat them when they are caught will only serve as an additional warning.”

The crowd cheered, and Nepos, not wanting to miss out on the action completely, moved to the brazier and took a grip on the cooler handle of the red-hot poker.

“Scream, Lilah,” Nepos taunted her in a hiss of breath. The poker’s hot tip drew closer to Lilah’s cheek, but she had nowhere to go, no movement that would allow her to shrink away as the radiated heat burned into her skin. She closed her eyes tightly shut.

The crowd once more held its collective breath.

“... feel the pain, barbarian bitch ...” Then, just when Lilah thought its bristling heat would disfigure her face, Nepos pulled the poker back. She peeled her eyes open to see the bastard Roman grinning from ear to ear. Her head drooped, her body wilting as her battered mind was sent reeling from this endless torment, ... and, absurd though it was, she felt grateful that he had chosen not to burn her.

Lilah had merely been spared one form of torture for another. Stalking back to the table, Nepos thrust the poker into its brazier causing a flurry of sparks to burst into the air. He then turned his lust-filled gaze back to the where the nubile, naked Brigante was secured …

A subtle nod to the nearest legionary was all the Governor needed to do in order to have another notch on the rachet wheel attained. Lilah screamed as she was stretched a little further, her already taut back and buttocks now even more extended, but it was the manner in which the sharp wooden edge dug into her body, parting her legs, scraping the sensitive nub with its angry touch, that brought about her greatest pain … but that was all about to change as the flagellator approached.


To Be Continued ...
 
Gosh, @Fossy - I go off thread two days to miss these extraordinary two chapters? Where do I begin to point out the highlights? I’m totally engaged with the characters, particularly Lilah and Valeria, but also Aulus and Tiberius (as odious as they are)!

That scourging of Valeria, incredibly brutal, and not overdone, completely believable she would fall unconscious (or maybe expire) after just a few kisses if such a cruel instrument. She is after all a soft Roman wife…

Then that exquisite portrait by @settantuno - superb!

How does one top that? Well, @Fossy you gave it an excellent follow up by putting the defiant Lilah onto that horse - even she baulks at it’s terror! Wow, what is to come? Apart from the obvious (but that’s personal)

Brilliant - hot, kinky erotic, and an interesting development of both characters and setting.

While I haven’t read all of your stories, this seems the best I’ve read from you so far, thank you for sharing this with us!
 
Gosh, @Fossy - I go off thread two days to miss these extraordinary two chapters? Where do I begin to point out the highlights? I’m totally engaged with the characters, particularly Lilah and Valeria, but also Aulus and Tiberius (as odious as they are)!

That scourging of Valeria, incredibly brutal, and not overdone, completely believable she would fall unconscious (or maybe expire) after just a few kisses if such a cruel instrument. She is after all a soft Roman wife…

Then that exquisite portrait by @settantuno - superb!

How does one top that? Well, @Fossy you gave it an excellent follow up by putting the defiant Lilah onto that horse - even she baulks at it’s terror! Wow, what is to come? Apart from the obvious (but that’s personal)

Brilliant - hot, kinky erotic, and an interesting development of both characters and setting.

While I haven’t read all of your stories, this seems the best I’ve read from you so far, thank you for sharing this with us!
Thanks for the feedback 'Loin, writing for CF is always a pleasure my friend.
 
The Wall – 21


Governor Nepos stopped directly behind the raised posterior of the bound and chained girl. The crowd had formed a horse-shoe around Lilah, with her head was facing away from the Town’s Gate to look at the partially built wall beyond. The whole of the assembled mass had a clear view of her backside … When she felt fingertips scurry across the smooth skin of her bare, upraised buttocks, Lilah cringed and bit down on her lip.

“This barbarian savage is being made an example of to deter others like her from attempting to breech our wall or attack us from the inside. From now on, any assaults on our towns and settlements will be dealt with in a similar manner. We do this for Eboracum, Britannia and all of Rome.” The crowd cheered his stirring words.

The Governor’s fingers delved deep and opened Lilah’s body, pressing insistently at the spot where the sharp edged wood had already begun to split her body . Blood rushed hot to her cheeks and she could hear the sounds of tittering laughter from those watching as tears pricked her eyelids.

But then, having opened and stretched her, making the bound girl squirm, Nepos straightened, assumed a sincere expression worthy of his position and placed both hands behind his back.

As the Governor headed back towards his small tent, to once more join his guests, he issued a barely discernible nod, and on cue, the flagellator, now fully rested form his earlier exertion, languidly ascended the small dais in front of Lilah’s prostrate form. His legs, straight and corded with muscle, supported a torso such as sculptors fashioned when they shaped a god. His arms, sinewed and powerful, folded over his chest, ending in hands perfectly formed. His body was that of a man such as women yearned for, an invincible power that exuded grace and horror simultaneously. When Lilah raised her tear-drenched eyes to regard him, she saw his handsome face radiate a palpable malevolence.

He grinned and stooped over the top of the wooden horse-frame, yanking her hair back and raising her head so that he could amorously ravage her mouth.

The crowd gasped. Scourge her, yes, take the flesh from her bones yes … but kiss her! This was a spectacle and no mistake. The horde hooted with laughter when Lilah spit her saliva onto the ground once he had torn himself away from her lips.

The flagellant too growled with delight, and his dark expression grew wild as he saw the fear in the eyes of his victim as he displayed the huge, many-barbed scourge.

Shoulder locked, wrists loose, the hulk of a man hurled back his arm and swung it against the timber base of the horse’s trestle with an ear-piercing whack.

A great, guttural cry exploded from Lilah’s chest. She jerked wildly in the restraints, recoiling in horror, the blow so violent that everybody jumped, shocked. Many of the women covered their mouths involuntarily or closed their eyes as murmurs of excitement passed between the men.

Skilful lash-master that he was, the flagellant smacked the leather fiercely against the post a second time, with flesh-shearing force. He was tormenting the girl unmercifully, bringing horrible anticipation to the encounter even at this stage of proceedings.

Fear and humiliation welled inside Lilah so deeply that she twisted her torso to fix a despairing, tear-streaked gaze towards the tyrant sitting, quaffing his wine, to her right. As her gaze moved past Aulus and Tiberius to rest upon Nepos, the Governor, unmoved, merely gestured his hand.

“Begin.”

Lilah cast her eyes around the lines of people thronging together. The bound barbarian watched in terror as they fell completely silent, motionless and attentive. She wanted to scream but the stillness of the spectators, their gaping mouths and bulging eyes had transfixed the poor girl.

The flagellator circled around into position behind her, touching her firm buttocks lightly with the hard leather handle, to assess his target ... take aim and then fire with precision.

As the familiar swish of the whip sliced the air behind her, Lilah clenched her teeth, her body rigid.

CRACK! ... the scourge made solid contact with her buttocks, hissed and dived soundly into the two mounds of smooth, quivering flesh. Her head snapped backward, the blow driving her shackled body violently forward, rasping the sharp wood deeper between her slender thighs. White searing pain exploded through her and even her teeth were shaking, fresh tears gushing from her eyes as she struggled to stifle a scream...

CRACK! ... her bottom contorting urgently in response to the onslaught of the whip. It hurt so badly, coming down upon her flesh rapidly and vigorously biting into her skin as if it had teeth, which, in a way, it did. In a frenzy of pain, Lilah grasped at the chain with whitened knuckles as the leather flew through the humid air a third time...

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! ... the resounding strokes rained down on her at a steady, relentless pace, the leather wrapping around the curved creases between buttocks and thighs, lashing an agonised wail from her lips ...

Blood and pieces of flesh flew into the air every time the barbs struck, the impact compounded as the iron scraps were dragged slowly across her body as the whip recoiled.

CRACK! ... Lilah tried her best not to cry out but it proved impossible, the throbbing shocks of hot pain giving her new energy with which to struggle once more...

CRACK! ... a piercing scream caused the multitude to gasp, the scourge gauging at her body, raking at the tender flesh between her firm, blood-dripping buttock cheeks, leaving a band of bright red grooves and welts across her flesh. Lilah was screaming at the top of her lungs now, unable to quieten or calm herself ...

CRACK!... between the screams she strained hard against the restraints, peering outward to see a girl to her left side grinning and chuckling, staring excitedly at the scene of suffering. Lilah saw the hussy’s lips move as she counted the strokes, “... seven ... eight ... nine ...” losing the tally in a fit of giggles, squealing and feigning coyness when one of the men grabbed her around the waist from behind, his hands mauling her breasts ...

A soldier, a Tungrian from the wall building party, watched Lilah’s thighs with a desire fuelled intensity as they writhed and squirmed against the wooden strip wedged into her tender flesh, splitting her soft lips … a large bulge pushing against the crotch of his tunic.

The giggling, counting girl pretended to struggle as the man unbuttoned the front of her dress, caressing pert breasts overlarge for her tiny form .... but Lilah cared not, her face buried under sweat-dampened hair, the antics of the crowd failing to distract the man holding the whip. He never so much as blinked at the agony he inspired in the minds of the gathering as they watched aroused, counting off the torturous strokes in an eerie monotonic manner.

CRACK! “... sixteen”

CRACK! “...seventeen”

CRACK! “...eighteen”

The peaks of the surrounding undulating hillocks echoed Lilah’s shrieking howls, each agonising swing of his arm brought more urgency to her movements and unbearable spasms to wrack her body. Lights danced before her eyes, as the sounds emitted by the barbarian girl settled down to a quiet keening whimper.

At the twentieth lash she drew her head back. Her breath came out in wild gasps torn from the burning core of her lungs by the scourge, filling her body until it became an overwhelming agony demanding release. The rough-edged wood of the horse she was straddling harried and tantalised the tiny nub of sentient flesh between her thighs. The friction of her thrusts caused it to swell erect, engorged with traitorous blood, and so amid the pain, she moaned with a sound of distinct desire. The crash of the scourge kneaded her pussy and hard little clit again and again, pushing it against the wood, and taking her unwittingly towards an explosion of pleasure now only heartbeats away...

Another CRACK! “Ohhh,” she groaned.

And another … CRACK! “Ohhhhhhhhhh …”

Then …

CRACK! “Nooooooooo!” The orgasm wracked her body but was lost to all others in the midst of the frenzied scourging, all except the flagellator himself who regarded her quivering body with a wry smile as dripping rivulets of juice flowed freely down the angled sides of the wooden horse.

By the twenty-seventh lash Lilah had ceased whimpering as her movements slowed. The writhing and squirming became nothing more than a slight undulation as the mounting impact of the appalling scourging she had suffered took its toll, and the mounting level of intoxicating torture dragged the barbarian girl into the deep black abyss of oblivion.

By the Thirtieth she stopped moving altogether …


To Be Continued ...
 
Is it boring of me to say that once more, @Fossy you’ve done it again? Terrible, brutal, horrific, painfully erotic, and magnificent! Gosh I would love a picture of that scourge dripping with Lilah’s blood and Lilah’s scourged, immobile form in the background, perhaps as she screams in both pain and orgasmic release? It is definitely possible to cum in such a situation of agony if the stimulus is selected carefully!

I guess the only question just now is did either Valeria or Lilah actually survive? I’m actually very confident the barbarian warrior will, and surely Valeria is young enough to survive this despite her soft life? It’s only a low-count scourging, after all. Can I be the one to tip the bucket of salty brine on them to painfully reawaken them to their horrible reality?

Gosh, I sure hope they both survive, the promise of more torture and a painful execution beckons… Bravo
 
Back
Top Bottom