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Readers can read all books for free, without any and give the authors feedback. Books that perform well based on their reader engagement are published by Inkitt in different formats and channels. Things were harder to bear in the darkness, and her mind grew febrile with thoughts of escape. Little more than an elaborate cage, the holding cell was deathly dim with only a Whipped women stories of illumination from torchlight, barely enough to see beyond the bars and the ceiling high overhead.
The walls confining her were as thick as her body Resting her head on the crook of her arm, Telina squirmed as she shifted her body across the hardwood cot. She knew well what was ahead of her, and thought the faster she got it over with, the better. She wondered how many of her slave forebears had lain here, bound for the whip, and when the lasher arrived, clamored to be the first to have it inflicted on them, to avoid waiting.
No—they would stop it. Lars could not do this. Not to her. Surely it was a trick to frighten her. Or he Whipped women stories realize his mistake, that she could not endure such punishment Naive though these hopes were, they helped stay the terrific strain of waiting. Watching whips in action proved more instructive than merely gazing at them, or listening to slaves or dungeon attendants describe them. She shuddered, feeling her eyes water in fear and shame. Seshians and Sokouri alike will celebrate our act of rebellion for years to come. She raised her head, to the dawn heralding the morning of her punishment.
She sat bolt upright in the cot, and understood the meaning of the low whistling sounds: bullhide whips herding slaves out of their cells. While they toiled in the fields and mines outside, here a thing worse than her worst nightmare would be realized. Suddenly she wished the waiting would continue a little longer just as passionately as she had wished for it to end.
Yet things would move fast from now on, leaving little time for thought or hope. Straining to see outside, her eyes shifted anxiously across the bars to the jangling of keys, the clacking of footsteps growing slower as they approached. Two Imperial guards assumed positions outside the cell. Telina sprang from the cot, her arms outstretched, her body bent, poised on high heels. Hearing a long key inserted into the lock, she backed up against the far wall of her cell, trapped.
The skin of both thighs rubbed nervously together, the warm, trembling skin of her buttocks bitten by the chill of marble. With one savage twist, the two locking bars were withdrawn, a sound shockingly loud in the deathly silence. The imposing door screeched open. Defiantly, she eyed the silhouettes of the approaching guards The pair seized her arms, wrenched her outside, and her determined expression collapsed altogether, her spirit crushed thoroughly as a tall black form entered the alcove, gliding in, as if floating.
Telina choked on her own breath as he stared unabashed at her sensational exposure, noting every muscle, every little piece of her body moving and trembling as she stood. She knew her movements were voluptuous, that facing whip torture she displayed a titillating show of grace and femininity. She felt her face twisting and crumpling but could not help it. Upon her strength of will and determination rested the fate of the entire nation of Seshia, all narrowing down to this heathen point of rebellion.
She might speak now, and save herself much pain, or remain silent under the whips until she could bear no more She closed her eyes, carried by a wind of memory, his cruelty clear to her as never before: this man invaded her village. Took everyone captive, enslaved them, arrested her Sire, and unbidden, occupied her home. Held the lives of her brother and beloved as ransom. Forced the girls to excessive labor, her to long, hot days in the fields before his vain attempt to foist her into whoredom. Condemned her betrothal to Rolf as adultery, stripping it of all sanctity.
He drew back his shoulder and slapped her full across the face with such viscous force it threw her whole body sideways. Telina flinched at the blow, her cheek throbbing with pain, and glared back at him, quivering in stunned silence as he addressed her guards. Dragged inexorably onward to the place of whip punishment, she bucked and thrashed in tear-filled hysteria, arms held tight. Her entire body nerveless and watery with terror. She smothered her sobs and found her legs again, assuming a timid pace on knees that threatened to buckle at every step.
With head hung low, she grew conscious of her movements, of the brown-tanned body the exertions of slavery had earned her and served to accentuate: the studded belt defining the smallness of her waist, bare haunches swaying sensuously, large, round hips made agile by crop-driven slave labor She was keenly aware of Whipped women stories stares of her stalwart escorts, Whipped women stories their eyes upon her thighs, thick, supple and shiny with sweat More than once her body brushed against the firmness of muscle, and with lewd, intoxicating excitement she felt the growing, responsive moistness surge deep between her legs, blocked only by a tight strip of leather.
She looked up to see huge tiquewood doors swing open, to the home of terror, the sanctum where all hope, all resistance to their will was extinguished. She writhed and recoiled in horror, only to collapse again in the clutches of her guards, then felt herself lowered downward into the chamber, the insoles of her boots scuffing the sharply rising steps.
Shafts of blinding sunslight shone through the upper rows of portholes, the air thick with a hot, misty reek of sweat and leather, of pain and fear.
Her whole world spun wildly, and without realizing it she was on her feet, pulled past the barrier of steel grating with her escorts and through the barred door, forced to gaze incredulously ahead at the lintel-shaped whipping post. Overcome by the sheer power and expectancy of their intent, Telina felt her fingers clench and unclench. She had seen it before the night of the cellbreak, but from her position on the chamber floor it looked even larger, more sinister. She still could not quite believe that today, it was for her. Shoulders bunched up, poised on boot heels straddled wide, Telina pulled back, trembling, her female breadth of hip giving wide stance upon the chamber floor, her ball-shaped breasts made high and taut by her need to stand so well Weakly, she flung her arms upward and wrenched herself free, refusing the assistance of her guards Her body weak, her chest heaving, she surrendered to the intense animal eroticism of the moment, hoping her arousal would ease the sting of the whips or at least lessen this unbearable humiliation.
Her thighs, glossed with warm sweat, touched lightly under the tightness of her thong. Fully aware of the effect her boldness had on her escorts, she abandoned herself further, knew they were watching her The walk seemed interminable. For long moments, weak and dizzy from fear, palms sweating, muscles throbbing, she stepped toward the dread whipping post yet not seeming to draw any nearer. Her eyes fixed on two iron rings bolted to the underside high off the floor, spaced a hebreath apart. From them hung gleaming iron chains, connected to thick leather cuffs to embrace her wrists and forearms.
Below the restraints she saw a short stepladder, no doubt to make up for her petite height. The structure seemed enormous, overwhelming, seemed to loom over her, to dominate the world She felt the men grasp her roughly by the arms, dragging her forward. Her svelte body hoisted upon the top step, she could do nothing but watch the guards tighten six buckled straps around her forearms.
Quivering gasps of panic welled tighter in her collared throat, her manacled limbs pulled so high above her head that even in her high heeled boots she had to stand very straight to relieve the pressure on her wrists. After checking the bindings that secured their prized victim, they kicked the stepladder out from under her. Swinging, hanging full stretch by the wrists, Telina cried out in agony as she writhed and thrashed, tugging and twisting at the confining straps trying to free herself Her long red nails dug deep into her palms, as tears of defeat flooded and shimmered in her eyes.
Her breasts pulled in slow, quivering breaths, lifting the holster covering her bobbing breasts. She craned her neck back over her left shoulder, her eyes closed to angry slits as she saw the guards depart. She would face this first punishment session alone, with her lasher. Shifting her gaze to the right, a long, high gasp of disbelief escaped her, sending her heart to flutter in her chest. Dozens of implements—for combat and punishment—either hung on the rack or lay on the table: staffs, scythes, garrotes, knives, swords, lariat ropes, braided nets bordered by small hooks.
On the base of a stand, was placed a smoldering brazier with a poker thrust into it, glowing red-hot. Blood rushed hot to her cheeks, her suspended legs wobbling, tingling under Whipped women stories, as she gazed the Whipped women stories edge of the table at what she expected to find The sight of one whip would not be enough to shock her into giving up the information he would demand.
At the very corner lay what she recognized from the annals as a standard punishment whip. Some obscure inner sense told her Galt would start with this one first. The onyx black leather glistened sharp under sunslight, its ribbed coil polished with a shiny stiffening wax to render it taut as a rod and crack with a single flick of his wrist. Wound into very wide, very thin loops, the braided leather tapered to spliced tips tied off with a long, blade-like snapper Telina tore her eyes from it, moaning in distress.
Her whole body hot, pulsing with blood, she slipped into a sort of inner space, a dreamlike state scarcely conscious of her surroundings. Sharp arrows of sun poured in through the portholes, burned upon her glossy, dark-tanned skin. Soon the chamber was sweltering. Every Whipped women stories often a slight tremor shook her, small be of sweat forming on her forehead and upraised forearms. Distracted then, by a sudden breeze blowing motes of dust, she glimpsed back, and saw Galt. 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 eyes met hers, bewildered, vulnerable and filled with tears. Time seemed to close around them. For a Whipped women stories they were frozen even in motion.
His eyes never wavered from her hanging, pristine body. He started toward the dark area, where the frightening instruments were placed. The gesture forced a pleading whimper from her throat, sent the pit of her stomach into a wild swirl.
Galt snatched up a black leather glove from the table, fitting it over his right hand. I-I-I could He gave her a look of gentle rebuke. Too numb with fright, too shocked to even speak, she heaved in high, surrendering moans The approach of footsteps making her heart race. He unfurled the whip as he went.
Whipped women stories taut, wiry lash came alive in his hand, slithering as it sprang forth, bouncing lightly, lithely tapping the chamber floor. The underlying sensuality of his words captivated her The black lash, whisked up with a quick, fluid whistle, came down with a sharp, snapping slash. She tensed madly, releasing a cry of terror, the stroke stirring a wild, erotic fire under her skin. She pressed her long, bare thighs together, her body twisting and squirming under the leather cuffs. She sensed in his voice the rage of jealousy Yet a third time he lifted his fist, the sound of the whip raised with unnatural clearness.
She thrust her gaze forward, wincing, lips parting in disbelief, trembling, breathing fast. He let the whip fly through the chamber and she clenched her fists. With eyes closed tight, she prepared for the worst—. As if from a distance, she heard herself draw a shuddering draught of air. Panting with loud, hysterical stridency, she lifted all her body by her cuffed wrists with desperate strength.Whipped women stories
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The Whipping Post