jimsac
Tribune
Phlebas raises the birch whip high. From the corner of her eye, Barbaria catches this sudden movement. She shivers in fear and expectation... @Barbaria1
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The Passion of BARBARIA, Rebel Queen, by Scorpio
I try not to look. Just close your eyes and brace for what’s coming, I tell myself. But it doesn’t work that way. The tension is too high. I can’t stop myself from checking out what he is doing. I glance back at him out of the corner of my eye. My masked tormentor ... this brutish man they call “Phlebas” ... how deadly serious he looks ... said to be a master of his trade ... muscular arm raised ... birch whip held on high ... momentarily paused ... and then how swiftly and cruelly he brings it down in a whistling arc to break against my poor defenseless backside .... slashing, slicing, abrading ... unimaginable burning pain ... the force of the blow driving me forward ... breasts crushed against the unyielding sturdiness of the whipping post ... eliciting initially a grunt ... an involuntary expulsion of held breath ... quickly followed by a long shrill cry of anguish. Met with applause, jeers, whistles and taunts from the crowd of onlookers, the numbers of which multiply rapidly now that the show has begun. Miserably, I await the next stroke, knowing it will be far from the last. Shaking uncontrollably. Peeking once again out of the corner of my eye. Please! No! I beg of you! ARGHHHHHHHHHHH
jimsac
Tribune
Hit her harder! We need to hear her howl in agony! Paint her back in red!
Make the rebel bitch suffer!
See! The crowd wants blood. I have no friends here. Phlebas ... always the showman ... will undoubtably give them what they desire.
jimsac
Tribune
I’m in the crowd and I love the way your shoulder blades arch inwards and the skin on the back of your ribs stretches as you try to absorb the force of each cruel blow...
Hey, less of the "brutish" !!
It is not sheer bloody destruction that I seek. No. The pleasure is in playing your victim, controlling her, breaking her resistance. The blow that comes when least expected, or from a surprising angle. The blow that does not come at all. My first strike has pushed her forward with its brutality, she knows now what is possible. The crowd howl their delight, they want blood, blood and ruin. They will get it, but on my terms.
I drape the whip over her shoulder, draw it slowly away, the leather sliding gently over her bare flesh. The first strike has not yet drawn blood, must keep the crowd happy, so a swift strike to her upper back and then another lower down, where the first landed, but with a nasty flick to draw the tips of the whip across her already abraded hide.
This gets her jumping in shock, mouth wide in a silent scream, her breasts pressed either side of the post. Yes, there's the trickle that begins it, red and vital! Three strokes and she is already struggling. Her thighs look tempting, soft skin and muscle beneath, and after that, perhaps a gentle kiss between her legs? Yes, a reminder of her vulnerability. I don't want to harm her there too much. But a little tickle can do wonders when breaking a stubborn one like this.
My arm comes back, eyes on the curve of her right thigh, leather whistles through the air and anticipation has her jumping already!
It is not sheer bloody destruction that I seek. No. The pleasure is in playing your victim, controlling her, breaking her resistance. The blow that comes when least expected, or from a surprising angle. The blow that does not come at all. My first strike has pushed her forward with its brutality, she knows now what is possible. The crowd howl their delight, they want blood, blood and ruin. They will get it, but on my terms.
I drape the whip over her shoulder, draw it slowly away, the leather sliding gently over her bare flesh. The first strike has not yet drawn blood, must keep the crowd happy, so a swift strike to her upper back and then another lower down, where the first landed, but with a nasty flick to draw the tips of the whip across her already abraded hide.
This gets her jumping in shock, mouth wide in a silent scream, her breasts pressed either side of the post. Yes, there's the trickle that begins it, red and vital! Three strokes and she is already struggling. Her thighs look tempting, soft skin and muscle beneath, and after that, perhaps a gentle kiss between her legs? Yes, a reminder of her vulnerability. I don't want to harm her there too much. But a little tickle can do wonders when breaking a stubborn one like this.
My arm comes back, eyes on the curve of her right thigh, leather whistles through the air and anticipation has her jumping already!
jimsac
Tribune
Are your tits brushing against the rough wood of the whipping post as you squirm to avoid the blows?OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
trickydicky4u
Governor
Why start now??
jimsac
Tribune
The Queen howls in pain as @phlebas whips her again and again, paying special attention to her butt cheeks. Tied tightly as she is, Barbaria cannot avoid these blows. Twigs and splinters of the birch whip break off and stick to her flesh. @Barbaria1
Attachments
Ohhhhhhhh .... Ahhhhhhhhhh .... gasp ... this just gets worse and worse! Stop! Owwwww!!! Please! Please, stop! Nooooooooo! Uhhhhhhhhhh ... have mercy!
jimsac
Tribune
No way! The crowd is ogling you in a very lewd manner. Men are laughing and grabbing their crotch and some women seem to be getting all wet as they see you shiver and squirm under the birch whip...
windar
Teller of Tales
Geez, Moore, always complaining....
trickydicky4u
Governor
Mercy... heard of that concept, but it'll never catch on round here (given the Queens track record!)
Indeed. You are an artist, Mr. Plebas. People often don't have that appreciation for the subtle details.
See?OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
jimsac
Tribune
Barbaria shudders and trembles. The pain of the birch is excruciating. The crowd lusts for more welts, more pain, more blood. The torturer pauses for a moment to admire his handiwork on the rebel's naked, sweating body and soak in her moans of pain and cries for mercy...
