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We are slaves

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I am a slave and Samantha is my wife. We are slaves on a plantation, we have a cruel master, punishes for the slightest infractions. The overseers walk around and whip us with whips so that we work better. We will not work out the prescribed norm - from 25 to 50 blows with a whip. Some of us, exhausted from work and beatings, fell from another blow and could not get up - 50 blows. Failure to fulfill marital duties is also punished, if the wife does not give her husband, or the husband does not satisfy his wife, it is worth complaining to the overseers, and your half is 80 strokes. They also flog for smaller things. There is no living space on our backs. It is very difficult to breathe, the heat and hot air burn the lungs, which have already been beaten off during punishments. They cut mercilessly. When we are untied after a flogging, we often cannot walk ourselves, it happens that we lose consciousness. And at night, tired after a hard day, he must satisfy his beloved wife, otherwise if he complains, 80 blows of the whip, which I cannot stand, especially after this week ... And so, we live. But we don’t even think about escape and rebellion. No one is ever killed here, but they can be flogged to death. But we are happy and satisfied with life, and we love each other.
The day was hard. Today they cut the reeds. I didn't finish my territory a bit. Exhausted, they took me to the chief overseer. 25 lashes, he said. Samantha came up to me, clung to me, and said that I must endure the punishment. I trembled with fear. I was flogged 2 days ago; my back has not yet healed. She took my hand and led me to the post. I quickly got attached. A whip struck my trembling body. I screamed out loud in pain. Tears and cold sweat poured from the second blow. Then I just wheezed. With each blow, the forces remained less and less. By 25, I almost hung helplessly. I was untied from the post and brought into the house. Samantha began rubbing salt water on my cut back. I winced after every touch. When she finished, she said she wanted me to fuck her. And today she was overexcited both from hard work and from my spanking. I got up by force. She knelt down and leaned against the bed. I took off her loincloth and put it on her, started fucking. She screamed loudly, and I kissed her scarred back. Then she bit the blanket and began to convulse. I hugged her tightly and we had an orgasm together. So, we fell asleep.
In the morning she woke me up and said it was time to go to work. We went out into the field. The overseers were already going and whipping the slaves. Then one of them approached us. First, he whipped Samantha. She yelped in pain, tears welling up in her eyes. Then he hit me with a whip over yesterday's scars. I roared in pain, and after the second blow, I pissed and began to fall. Samantha picked me up and didn't let me fall. Hold on, she said. You don’t want to be at the post right in the morning. We still have a hard day, and this is just the beginning.
Samantha sighed heavily all day; something was wrong with her well-being. During the entire working day, she received more than 10 whiplashes. And she worked worse than others. I asked her what hurts her, and she said that today, probably, the beginning of menstruation is affecting. Little attention was paid to us, because one slave who fainted while working was punished. All attention was on her. Unfortunate poured 50 strokes. She lost consciousness during the punishment, she was brought to her senses and continued.
By the end of the day, Samantha complained to the overseer that she hadn't worked well that day, hadn't picked enough cotton, and that she needed to be flogged. This was not really noticed, and it turned out to be so. She also added that yesterday she did not reach the norm. The overseer said, "Stupid, 50 lashes of the whip await you. Why did you blather?" She said: "I am a slave, guilty and should be punished in full." "As you wish," he said. "Let's throw off up to 25 for honesty." "No. Fully,” she said in a voice trembling with fear. I hugged her and asked why. Then I realized that she herself was frightened because she was trembling. I led her to the post, removed her loincloth, and kissed her back, which They tied her up and let her rag bite. "I was tied. With every blow, something went down in me. Tears flowed from her eyes in streams, sweat streamed all over her body, blood dripped from her back, the unfortunate woman pissed herself. I also cried looking at her. I was so excited, I couldn't help it, and finished. This was noticed by the slave who was standing in front. I felt uncomfortable, but she said that it was normal, and if I wanted, I could cuddle up to her. I shook my head. By the 50th stroke, poor Samantha was without feelings, they brought her into the house, put her on the bed ovate. Now it was my turn to look after her back. I decided not to bring her to her senses yet, but from the salt water she came to her senses. "I love you like no one else," I said. "You too," she whispered. And we shared a long kiss. "You can't do it today," I said. "Why? Oh, yes,” she recalled. - "If you want, you can fuck me in the ass." "I haven't tried it yet; I don't know how." "I'll teach you somehow!" "What same you lustful!" "And what else should I be? I work hard all day in the heat, look at naked slaves and slaves, they constantly flog me and them. This is one joy in my life."

Finally, together we experienced a powerful orgasm. Samantha screamed in a fit of passion, as, probably, she would only scream under a whip. “It would always be like this,” she said, breathing heavily. We were sweating together. I squeezed her boobs with my hands and buried my nose in her sweat-salty back, clearly hearing her heart beat, the dearest to me in the world. “In the morning I woke up your hard cock, which will rest against my body. Today you did your best, tomorrow I will jump,” she said and began to fall asleep. And I couldn't sleep. I remembered how I used to be a manager. How I once had to flog a black slave. I whipped her and watched her moan as my cock shot out of her pants. Then he realized that he fell in love with her, and one day he confessed it to her. She was already married to a slave, her husband died after being whipped. She gave birth several times, but her figure was such that any white would envy. Her dangling boobs trembled with every move she made. She never wore a dress or a bra. There were multiple whip marks on her back, sides, stomach and chest. She always went barefoot. A short loincloth has always been her only garment. “I will only marry a slave. A man who is not whipped will not be able to love me like that,” she said. “I will drop everything and go to the plantation to work next to you as a simple slave,” I said. "Really? Throw off your clothes and shoes and go with me to work in the field under the scorching sun and the whips of the overseers? I will agree. I'll see what comes of it. How long can you stand it?" she said. It turned out he did. He tried very hard to please her. "Then I realized that I had become her slave. It was hard to work, I was very sick after being punished with a whip. But I was ready for anything for her. She is now mine and loves me. And, gently hugging her, he began to fall asleep himself.

Tomorrow morning, sex, breakfast, and again hard work in the field. Does this woman really need so little from life, I thought? The most interesting thing is that I myself became like her.
I had to flog my favorite. On this day, we tried very hard, and completed our work ahead of schedule. Even more cotton was harvested than necessary. The overseers, in order to set us as an example, let us go earlier, and even gave us a pint and a half of cold beer. We came tired and drenched in sweat to our house. Samantha opened the beer, and without pouring it into a mug, began to drink greedily. Then she took a whip that hung on our wall and lashed me in the stomach. “And now you will take me and flog me. No, it’s better to go into the yard, tie me to a post, and whip me not with a whip, but with a whip,” she said. “Why?”, I asked. “Other slaves laugh at me and say that you don’t love me because you won’t cut me. They proudly show their scars and lashes, how their husbands whip them. And I have nothing to brag about. So take a whip and whip me. have mercy! With all your might!" "Well, you already have enough whip from the overseers. Look at your body. Everything is slashed." slave." Saying this, she burst into tears. I hugged her, kissed her, took off her loincloth, led her and tied her to a post. "Give a rag a bite?" "No. I want to scream so that everyone can hear how you whip me." I drained the remaining half of the beer, took the whip and began to whip her. Slightly at first, then stronger and stronger. She began to howl in pain. This started to turn me on. I whipped her non-stop. She was breathing heavily and her moans were silent. When my hand began to tire, I stopped. Approached her. Poor Samantha was almost unconscious. I took a bucket of cold water and splashed it on her. The unfortunate woman was startled by a cold splash. “Now I, and everyone knows that we have true love. Tomorrow there will be something to brag to other slaves,” she croaked. I untied her, she could hardly stand on her feet. I never felt Samantha instantly came to life, as I put her on the bed. Like a wild cat, she rushed at me and didn’t even miss. My penis was deep in her vagina. What happened then cannot be said in words. We finished several times in a row. Then, exhausted, they fell to the floor, "How happy I am," she croaked in a helpless voice. "Me too," I whispered. So we fell asleep right on the floor.
During a depressed mood or depression, you want to be in the place of this slave and get a spanking in full. 100 lashes to the back! Though I doubt it would last that long. Probably would have asked for mercy, not waiting for the end of the first ten. But no one would pay any attention to this. The whip whistled and lashed me on my back and sides, knocking all the air out of my lungs that I couldn't even scream. Only wheezing came out. Complete madness from pain and fear. And at the same time the strongest excitement. The slave's heart sank as the pain neither inhaled nor exhaled, the overseer makes small breaks between blows, not allowing me to catch my breath. Everything went dark before the first blow. And in general, I would like my beloved woman to see this ...
A muscular overseer passed us and glanced at me. She watched me chopping cane, drenched in sweat. Then she waved her whip and hit me on the back. Tears spilled from my eyes and I became hard to breathe. But I survived, shed a tear, caught my breath, and continued to work. Then she hit Samantha. She screamed and even squatted down with tears, but tried not to fall on her knees, and continued to work. When the overseers stepped aside, I approached Samantha and hugged her. Her naked boobs touched my chest. She wrapped her arms tightly around my back. It hurt me because the consequences of the recent punishment had not yet passed. Simultaneous feeling of excitement, pain and fear. After all, we can be severely punished at any time. Recently received one hit on the back with a whip. The tears in my eyes had not yet dried up, the skin was swollen in the cut places. It still hurts to breathe, even though fifteen minutes have passed. And if there are 20, 25, or God forbid 50? Or more? In a row, without a break? The legs become wadded and the heart begins to jump out of the chest at the mere thought of being punished with a whip at the post. With these thoughts, we almost end in orgasm. “You endure such torment for me? You can’t stand it. Black slaves are more adapted to hard work and punishment. They have been accustomed to the whip since childhood. But it’s very hard for you,” said Samantha. "But I'm happy that it's all next to you. We work together, and they flog us together too. I try to prove to you that I am also a worthy slave and worthy of such a beautiful black slave like you. My back is covered with welts from the whip as well as and you," I said. "Come on, I've got a spot in the reeds. I can't, I want to fuck. I'm on fire with overexcitement." "Yes, me too. Went."
Such beauty and love! Love of the whip, love of Samantha, and devoted love of utter enslavement !

I wonder how the slave and Samantha would react if chained together, wrists held in the air by chains to the ceiling or a tall post, and ordered to make love while being whipped 100 times? I wonder how that would make them feel?
I have slowly begun to get used to it. I did not fall from the blow of the overseer's whip, but learned to bite his lip and silently shed tears, no matter how painful it was. Do not roar like a child before being punished at the post. Keep working despite the pain. I did not faint with horror when saw how some slave males or slave girls was being punished. At first, I peed in pain after almost every blow of a whip or club. I could not stand it and finish if there were a lot of slaves nearby, because they are all curvy, beautiful, naked and barefoot, in the same loincloths. Couldn't help but watch their boobs dangle in different directions. And they do not keep a distance, but work closely. Once I came when a dizzy slave girl leaned on my shoulder and touched my body with her breasts. I supported her, but then, from overexcitation, my sperm spattered and my loincloth became wet. I felt embarrassed, apologized to her for this, and she said: "Nothing, it's fine. There is no shame in this. Slaves often piss from the pain of being hit by a whip, often end up. Here, this is not considered shame." Then the overseer came up behind me and whipped me with a whip. The tip of the whip touched the slave's boobs. We groaned in pain together. The second blow of the whip knocked me down. I fell, pissed off the pain and lay covered in tears and urine. “Get up, if you don’t want to go to the post, and continue your work,” said the overseer. I had to get up, overcoming pain and panting. “What a shame there is with such pain,” said that slave. "Get used to it, new slave." Used to. You also have to try to satisfy your beloved Samantha. She needs sex much more than a white and free woman. Excuses I'm tired will not work. At first, I asked for mercy when the overseers started beating me. And ended up at the pole. Received from 10 to 50 strokes. After 50 lay the whole week.

There are many beautiful slave girls, and they do not mind having sex, but you need to save man's strength for your beloved. After all, apart from sex, she does not need anything. And she only talks about what hurts after the beatings and how she feels. Or about my beatings and well-being. And the hard work and punishment ahead. And it all ends with sex. It happened and I took some of the blows on myself, if it had not yet grown stronger after the previous punishment. And it happened that she went to the pillar instead of me, if she knew that I was not yet strong after the past, and I could not stand it. The punishments are very painful, and you also have to work. And during work they will often beat.
This month, due to the intense heat and drought, we did not fulfill our quota. For which they were often punished. It was very hard work, tears often flowed. Sweat stung his cut backs as the overseer's whip continued to fall. Everything hurt. For failing to comply with the norms, we were punished every morning with a bamboo stick to the calves for four days. In the morning we were assembled in formation, and the overseer beat us in turn with a stick on the calves of our legs. The first time we were put into this formation, Samantha said: "Just stay on your feet, don't fall, otherwise it will be worse. They will beat you prone anyway." When it was my turn, the overseer hit me first on the calf of my left leg, then on my right. I howled in pain and my legs buckled. Then he hit Samantha. Then on to the rest of the slaves. When the next time I received blows, each time it became more and more painful. Tears and sweat flowed in streams, but I tried to stand and not fall. I didn’t want to seem like a weakling in front of my woman with equal punishment. Many slaves pissed during the punishment. One pregnant slave fell, unable to stand. Apparently, this was not the first day of her punishment. They continued to beat her lying down. When we were told that everything was over for today, they disbanded the formation and said that everyone could go to their workplace. We limped along. Samantha supported me, I could hardly walk. "But tomorrow the old bruises will be even more painful. Get ready," she said. "Yes," I said, nodded to her, shedding tears from the pain. We took baskets and went to pick cotton. On the right, the overseer approached me, swung and whipped me with a whip. The tip of the whip cut into my left shoulder blade, cutting it to the point of blood. For a few seconds, my heart stopped beating. I could neither inhale nor exhale. From a new attack of pain, I even forgot about the morning punishment. Then he walked past Samantha and approached one pregnant slave, whom he also whipped on the back with a whip. While he switched to it, I caught my breath and continued to work. That slave groaned, but continued to work. She knew what awaited her if she fell from the blow of the whip. When the overseer moved away, Samantha kissed my cut shoulder blade and asked: "Does it hurt? Is your head spinning?" "Yes, it still hurts. And it's hard to breathe." "But look, do not show that you feel bad. Otherwise, the overseers will want to heal you. With a whip."
You’ve got to adore Overseers who will seek to heal slaves with the whip!

“Time to see the slave Doctor, slave”

Whir Crack! Whirr Crack!! WHIRR CRACK!!!

“Aaaaaaaiiiiigh!! Aaaaaiiiiiyiiii!!! Aaauuuurrrrrgggghhh!!!”

This continues for half an hour…


“Th-th-th ank y-y-you, Master, this slave is cured, SIR!”

Whir Crack!

“Ha ha, one for the road, slave! Remember a whipping a day keeps the Doctor away!”
Today we had to spud potatoes. Samantha pulled the plow yesterday. And today it's my turn. I harnessed myself to the shafts and pulled the plow. Samantha pushed him hard into the ground and it became hard for me to drag him. The heat was terrible, the sweat poured in a stream. She swung and whipped me on the back with all her might. I fell to my knees in pain. And then she swung again and how she lashes between her shoulder blades. I stopped breathing. Neither inhale nor exhale. "Get up if you don't want to go to the post," she said. I already know well what punishment with a whip at a post is. And, overcoming the pain, I got up and pulled the plow. Samantha often whipped me. It was very hard for me, but without it, nothing. Finally, lunch break. Wet with sweat, and back in bloody welts. She came over and hugged me tightly. It hurt so much, because the scars never go away on my back. I cried out of pain, and she cried out of pity for me. Then she pulled me into the hut. "I don't have the strength at all, dear," I said. "Don't you want 80 blows of the whip? And you won't be able to stand it. You have a weak heart," she said. - "So, let's go." And with all her might she hit me in the balls. I immediately fell to the floor in pain. But then my penis stood up as if rooted to the spot. “That's all right,” she said. “Look less at other slave girls. I understand that everyone is beautiful. But do not forget that everything is on fire with me." And I had to satisfy her with all my strength. After an orgasm, we lay down for a few minutes. "We get up, let's go on to plow. And if you drag the plow badly, I’ll kill you,” she said. Exhausted, I took up the shafts. But the blow of her whip gave me strength. And I dragged the plow as best I could. You have to finish it by the end of the day. And then save a little more energy for sex with her. I wake up badly. Samantha hung a whip over the bed to wake me up with. Yes, I was a free man and did not know grief. But I didn’t have such a Samantha. Her naked slave girlfriends. Hard work and whip blows. And scars on my body. But I think she's worth it.
"Well, you again flooded the entire bed with milk. "I just recently gave birth. And you pulled my boobs. Although I asked myself. Tie me to a post and whip me." "For what?" “Yes, because my milk flows from my boobs in a stream.” “But you yourself wanted it.” “I want you to do this, not one of the overseers. Take the whip and flog me." When I flogged her, I cried myself. She asked for more and more, otherwise her other slaves would not respect her.
I heard a conversation between two slave girls today. One speaks to the other. "How many whiplashes have you received today?" "The overseer lashed twice." "And I already got five." "It's noticeable. Your face is all tear-stained. It must hurt you. Does it still hurt?" "Of course it hurts. But look what a beautiful pattern turned out on my back. Mine will lick these scars for me today. Beauty, although it hurts." "You're lucky. Or you know how to put your back under the blows of the whip in such a way that such beautiful patterns are obtained."
Again, the plantation was in a terrible heat. And we also raised the production rate. It was very hard work. Sweat poured down. The whips and sticks of the overseers rained down. The head was spinning. At the end of the day, they began to count who had harvested how much cotton. It turned out that the least of all was me and one black slave. We were assigned 50 whips at the post. When Samantha heard this, she hugged me and cried. "Again, you will get a lot. Since they will flog with this black slave, there will be no mercy." I myself trembled with fear and hugged my woman with trembling arms. "Yes, my back will get it today." "And not only that. And the insides can beat. Look at the overseers and their whips." I looked at the two muscular blacks and their heavy whips, and my breath caught, and my heart stopped beating ... I already knew what it was. Trembling with fear, I walked up to the post, took off my loincloth and bit my teeth hard, knowing what it would be like tonight. The slave did the same. We were tied to poles. And then whips whistled. Our moans, tears. On the plantation no one is accustomed to begging for mercy. The sympathizers only wept softly and trembled to the beat of the whip... Samantha roared, but she did not dare to ask for mercy for me. She, too, like others, believes that if a slave is guilty, he should be punished. Although I saw very well how the overseers whipped me all day, because I did not have the strength, and I did not work well, and I knew that such a whipping could simply kill me. I bit hard on the loincloth, folded in half, and no longer saw anything, only heard the blows of the whip on my back and how my insides were shaking. There was no strength for screams and groans.
Recently on the plantation we had a new volunteer overseer named Juris, who came from Latvia. Brought in new white volunteer slaves. And for blacks, life in general has turned into hell. He flogged everyone in a row, and who fulfilled his norm, and who did not. Labor productivity fell because all the slaves and slaves were beaten so much that they could not work at full strength. This interested the owners of the plantation. And when they found out about the atrocities of the new overseer, they decided to punish him. They ordered the slaves to strip him naked and tie him to a post. Then they said: "We have a white slave Andrei, who used to be free, but for the sake of love for the black Samantha, at her request, agreed to become a slave and stay on the plantation. Let's give him the opportunity to punish the lawless overseer." Samantha said: "Let's start. Give him 25 strokes. Then I will add the remaining 25. I remember how he did not spare me when I was pregnant. It's good that I endured everything and gave birth safely. And other girls had more sad consequences. "I took the whip, how I swung it, and hit it. Juris howled at the first blow. So, I counted 25 strokes. His back was bloody. Then Samantha said, "Now it's my turn. Let him bite the rag in his teeth. I'll smack harder." He was not even able to moan under her blows. Barely breathed. And he bit the rag with all his might. By the 50th stroke, he was already hanging unconscious. They removed him from the pole and put him on a stretcher. Samantha was offered to bring him to his senses, but she said that she could only add a whip to him. Like, there are white slaves that came with him, let them mess with him.
Today the master overseer of the plantation gathered all the slaves. "Tomorrow," he says, "is St. Valentine's Day, the day of all lovers. I decided to celebrate it well for you. At the same time there will be pleasure and suffering, which every slave should remember. We tie male slaves and female slaves to the crossbar opposite each other so that they can cling to each other during the blows. And so, everyone will receive 25 blows of the whip on the back. Simultaneous spanking of a male slave and a female slave looks very beautiful. Whipping will be all without exception. Married pairs of slaves, husbands will be flogged with their wives. And we'll find a mate to the unmarried slaves. So, get ready. We're already getting ready. There will be both pleasure and pain." The slaves who had been on the plantation for a long time were no longer surprised by this. But those who were recently at the plantation, turned pale, became agitated and trembled with fear. For them, 25 lashes of the whip were a terrible punishment. And they knew that there would be no mercy, seeing how every day someone was flogged with a whip at a post, and every day they received a whip from the overseers during work. From one or two blows, the legs no longer hold, and you are suffocating, and then 25 in a row.
The final part
I barely walked to the place of punishment. On one side stood an overseer with a whip, on the other side an overseer with a bamboo stick. The legs became cottony, the whole body was trembling, the heart was jumping out of the chest in fear of the expected punishment. "Go faster!" the overseer screamed and hit the buttocks with a stick with all her might so that tears flowed from the pain. But I tried to gather my strength and walked faster. And so, we approached the pillar. Gathered all the slaves. speech: "Now this unfortunate slave will receive 100 lashes. This will be a lesson for all slaves. And remember. We don't beat you. We treat you for laziness and inappropriate attitude to work. This slave has not fulfilled his norms for 3 months in a row. They tried to treat him with 25 blows of the whip. A couple of times 50 strokes. But apparently the healing process was small. Hopefully 100 hits will heal him. And him, and others who see it. Who sees the whip whistling and clapping on his back. Who hears his moans. Who sees how blood flows from the dissected scars. Carry out the sentence." My head was spinning, and I fell to my knees. I knew that I would get it today, but I thought 50-60 blows. But I couldn’t stand 100. I saw the face of my poor Samantha, who was visibly frightened and burst into tears "Although earlier, when 25 or 50 blows were prescribed to me, she watched my tortures with fascination. It was noticeable that she liked it and aroused her greatly. But here the punishment is already so serious. Especially since she knows what this whip is. There is no one on the plantation I was not used to asking for mercy, so everyone was meekly silent. Only tears appeared in the eyes of many slaves and slaves. They lifted me up, took off my loincloth, and began to handcuff me to a post. Then they tied my legs. spit her out. Even when you start to lose consciousness, hold it. Then, when you lose consciousness, you will be brought to your senses and the spanking will continue. I'll give you a bite to eat again. I hope you survive. And after the spanking you will become an even better slave than you were. And you'll work better." The optimistic words of this slave... Even my Samantha is crying. My heart is pounding so that it seems that it jumps out of my chest and beats against a post. I caught my breath; I bit the rag with all my strength. Tears splashed from my eyes. Then the second blow. Everything inside shuddered. The third. Pain cut inside.........
Do you think we slaves should love the stake to which we are tied during punishment? After all, it is he who we embrace in terrible suffering. We trust him with pain and tears. It is he who is saturated with our sweat and blood. It is he who keeps us until the end of the punishment, when we are already losing feelings and unable to hold on. It is to him that our poor slave hearts beat closest of all, which he does not allow to jump out. He keeps us unconscious. And it is with him that we end our slave life in terrible agony, when we are flogged to death.
The whipping post might be our ultimate Master, of course it is an instrument of extreme beauty, and of course slave loves Him, but this slave worships the whip above all else.

The holy whip is the instrument of our human Master’s will, it kisses us with a mother’s love, it holds our fate in it’s twisting form, and lovingly corrects our transgressions. All slaves should worship the most divine whip above all, for it chastises us with fervor, and holds within our ultimate fate. Beg for the whip, slave, for it is our salvation!
A plantation full of intriguing figures - the slave who finds sexual joy in punishment, the overseer who gave up his freedom for her love, and the master who cares so much about his slaves' marital pleasure. And full of delicious pain and oppression.

However, may I suggest that more people would be able to enjoy this story as it deserves if it were divided into smaller, more readable paragraphs?
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