THE GLADIATOR by Sean O'Kane Read Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sean O'Kane
looped round the cleat, passed back between their legs and padlocked to a ring in the wall.
Like all stable hands the girls were strapping and healthy, and their wrist suspension revealed their fine contours as they hung in a row once the low stools had been kicked out from under them. Each girl was assigned two floggers, one stood in front; one behind and employed long, thin single lashes with frayed ends. In addition a third guard kept count on each victim, and as the lashes started to fall, Tara nearly fainted at the eroticism of the sight. The four bodies swung and twisted, four pairs of legs bicycled madly in the air; breasts and buttocks rippled and swayed under the lashes. There was only one thing she loved more than watching slaves taken to their limits and beyond, and that was being taken there herself.
On and on through the hot afternoon the punishment continued until at last all four girls fell silent and only the hiss and slap of the whips echoed round the courtyard. Tara was by then tugging at the chain between her legs, grinding her clitoris against it - heedless of any punishment she might incur. She knew that all of the whipped girls had come repeatedly. But she also knew that it made no difference. This length of flogging meant that even repeated orgasms became a sort of punishment in themselves; draining and exhausting the girls just as surely as pain would.
At long last the hundreds were called and the girls were taken down for watering and a rest. Their bodies were tiger-striped by then from shoulders to knees and even though the guards were consummate whip masters, Tara was certain that blood would be drawn before the end. The interval was long enough so that arms and shoulders could recover before being stretched again, yet even that was a further torment as was testified to by the groans and squeals as the girls were hauled up all over again.
During the rest the girls had been allowed some water to drink and several buckets had been poured over their bodies to revive them, so that they could fully appreciate their punishment, and now, as the whips began to swish and crack again, the bodies gleamed in the sun and each impact of the lashes sent up a fine spray of droplets. And once again Tara found herself urgently tugging on her chain, pulling it up and sawing her hips back and forwards as the girls, now a little refreshed, cried and twisted and danced while the lashes wrapped lovingly around the shining curves of hips, breasts, backs and thighs.
And when finally the two hundred was called and the nearly inert bodies hung limply, the owner stepped forwards once more. He congratulated the girls on their hardiness and said he hoped they would never do anything like it again, but just to make sure, they would take ‘one for luck’. The guards who had been wielding the whips now moved forward and each grabbed a girl’s ankle, pulling her legs apart, whilst their owner picked up one of the whips. Taking his time he positioned himself in front the girl farthest from Tara and took aim. There was a hiss through the hot air, a smack and a strangled shriek from the girl as the leather curled up between her legs and the frayed end of the lash bit deeply between her buttocks.
Tara was panting with excitement by then and her chain was slick with her juices, she jerked it even harder up into her slit, deliberately crushing the tender sexflesh, as the final three lashes were delivered and the four girls were taken down. She was leaning back against the warm stone wall, her eyes closed when she heard her owner’s voice right in front of her and she started upright.
“Now my beauties, after that little show you’ll only ever feel the whips I want you to.” He was addressing all four of the slaves and smiling as he observed how they had all been trying to bring themselves off during the punishment. “Carlo,” he said, “leave them here and let them finish.”
Tara would gladly have kissed his feet in
Like all stable hands the girls were strapping and healthy, and their wrist suspension revealed their fine contours as they hung in a row once the low stools had been kicked out from under them. Each girl was assigned two floggers, one stood in front; one behind and employed long, thin single lashes with frayed ends. In addition a third guard kept count on each victim, and as the lashes started to fall, Tara nearly fainted at the eroticism of the sight. The four bodies swung and twisted, four pairs of legs bicycled madly in the air; breasts and buttocks rippled and swayed under the lashes. There was only one thing she loved more than watching slaves taken to their limits and beyond, and that was being taken there herself.
On and on through the hot afternoon the punishment continued until at last all four girls fell silent and only the hiss and slap of the whips echoed round the courtyard. Tara was by then tugging at the chain between her legs, grinding her clitoris against it - heedless of any punishment she might incur. She knew that all of the whipped girls had come repeatedly. But she also knew that it made no difference. This length of flogging meant that even repeated orgasms became a sort of punishment in themselves; draining and exhausting the girls just as surely as pain would.
At long last the hundreds were called and the girls were taken down for watering and a rest. Their bodies were tiger-striped by then from shoulders to knees and even though the guards were consummate whip masters, Tara was certain that blood would be drawn before the end. The interval was long enough so that arms and shoulders could recover before being stretched again, yet even that was a further torment as was testified to by the groans and squeals as the girls were hauled up all over again.
During the rest the girls had been allowed some water to drink and several buckets had been poured over their bodies to revive them, so that they could fully appreciate their punishment, and now, as the whips began to swish and crack again, the bodies gleamed in the sun and each impact of the lashes sent up a fine spray of droplets. And once again Tara found herself urgently tugging on her chain, pulling it up and sawing her hips back and forwards as the girls, now a little refreshed, cried and twisted and danced while the lashes wrapped lovingly around the shining curves of hips, breasts, backs and thighs.
And when finally the two hundred was called and the nearly inert bodies hung limply, the owner stepped forwards once more. He congratulated the girls on their hardiness and said he hoped they would never do anything like it again, but just to make sure, they would take ‘one for luck’. The guards who had been wielding the whips now moved forward and each grabbed a girl’s ankle, pulling her legs apart, whilst their owner picked up one of the whips. Taking his time he positioned himself in front the girl farthest from Tara and took aim. There was a hiss through the hot air, a smack and a strangled shriek from the girl as the leather curled up between her legs and the frayed end of the lash bit deeply between her buttocks.
Tara was panting with excitement by then and her chain was slick with her juices, she jerked it even harder up into her slit, deliberately crushing the tender sexflesh, as the final three lashes were delivered and the four girls were taken down. She was leaning back against the warm stone wall, her eyes closed when she heard her owner’s voice right in front of her and she started upright.
“Now my beauties, after that little show you’ll only ever feel the whips I want you to.” He was addressing all four of the slaves and smiling as he observed how they had all been trying to bring themselves off during the punishment. “Carlo,” he said, “leave them here and let them finish.”
Tara would gladly have kissed his feet in