mark sessnatz's Deviated Artworks

[ianwarrick]

A Different Approach

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"Don't you dare lie to me, whelp!"

Cook's palm struck Anja's face with alarming force from a frail old arm. Anja reeled back, her cheek stinging hot

"I'm sorry, Cook," she whimpered, rubbing her swollen face.

"Don't insult me!" The old maid barked. "That's the third time I've caught ye pinching matches from Sir's pantry!"

"I'm sorry ma'am," Anja pleaded. "It just gets so cold at night in the-"

"I'll not hear it! If any body 'sides myself catches ye thieving, that's me hide on the line much as yours. I'll not have it yet hear? Ye'll take your due punishment and we'll speak no more of it!" Cook rapped her birch cane on the counter top.

Anja sighed and began to lower her threadbare dress, baring her shoulders for the familiar ritual of a beating. But Cook stopped her.

"Not this time! Clearly a regular whippin' ain't getting through to ye! Get up on the table, on yer knees now! It'll have to be somethin different if ye're to learn!"

Shakily, Anja crawled up onto the tabletop and and sat on her knees. Cook grabbed the hem of her skirt and flipped it back to expose the soles of Anja's cold bare feet.

Her stomach lurched at the realization. She had seen slaves punished this way before. Their screams echoed in her ears as Cook hovered her fearsome stick over Anja's vulnerable soles.

"Now hold still, child, and think on why ye deserve this!"

I think she should also be fastened to a caning bench in her masters study bare bottom high for a thorough caning in front of all the servants

 

[mark sessnatz]

Chiller 1



EXT. OLD CHURCHYARD - NIGHT.
The snarling, HOODED GHOUL hops down from his HORSE, drags the struggling GWENDOLINE over to a gnarled TREE and ties her to the trunk with ropes. He TEARS open the back of her sheer nightgown.

HOODED GHOUL
Your ancestors in the church once condemned me to torture and destruction! But no God nor grave could suppress my desire for vengeance!​

From under his cloak, he reveals a long black WHIP.

HOODED GHOUL
And now, no God can save you from the suffering I have waited centuries to return tenfold!​

He WHIPS Gwendoline across the back. She SHRIEKS in pain.

HOODED GHOUL
And when I have finished with you-​

He WHIPS her again!

HOODED GHOUL
-I shall hunt down the rest of your kin!​

He WHIPS her again!

HOODED GHOUL
Until every last one of your infernal bloodline-​

And again!

HOODED GHOUL
-is eradicated-​

And again!

HOODED GHOUL
-from Creation!​

Again!

GWENDOLINE
Oh God! Mercy! Mercy, please!​

 

[mark sessnatz]

Tropical Plantation 9



"You must have forgotten I'm a grown woman now, Papa!" Rosemarie shouted, flushed and shaking. "I can do what I like with my evenings!"

Colonel Tom Westley slammed his fist down on the walnut writing desk and leapt to his feet as fast as his aging knees would allow.

"You may be grown in years, young lady," he bellowed, jabbing the stem of his pipe in his daughter's direction. "But you've all the respect of snotty little brat, behaving this way!"

"You don't frighten me, Papa!" Rosemarie insisted, though she had flinched noticeably when he had struck the desktop.

"You are forbidden from seeing that DeClancy boy and that's my final word!"

"I'll be attending the cotillion this Sunday and you can't stop me!" She turned on her heel and strode for the study door.

"Roger!" barked the Colonel, and his stocky black butler snapped to attention. "Stop her!"

Roger sidestepped and blocked the doorway. Rosemarie stared him down.

"Out of my way, Roger!" she commanded. He ignored her.

"Roger, take Rosemarie here out to the lawn. She's picked up a few too many airs and graces from those DeClanceys over the river!"

"Sir," said Roger impassively, and took hold of Rosemarie's arm. Rosemarie struggled feebly against his grip.

"Two dozen with the horsewhip ought to strike some humility back into her! See to it!"