by Various
‘An English lady mustn’t catch cold, my dear,’ he said, pressing the brocade to her bare bottom.
The brocade stuck.
Afternoon wind breathed softly across the baked rock of the desert, bathed in pink light from the lowering sun. Not a shrub, nor blade of grass, shivered under the azure sky; whorls of dust spurted briefly, to float, glittering in the haze, beneath jagged red mountains, with the fort and its cluster of humans no more than shards in the moonscape. A pennant of pink brocade fluttered atop the ochre fort, topping clusters of bougainvillea, honeysuckle, date palms and hibiscus fringing a limpid oasis pool.
Tears streamed down the fair girl’s cheeks, as her body jolted against the bars of her cage. Her T-shirt, once white, was smudged and ripped, as were the filthy panties wrenched to her crotch and scarcely covering her bare tan thighs. Ragged and sweat-soaked fronds of pubic hair glistened beneath the fabric, riding up over their tufts, and her shirt, translucent with moisture, clung to the massive breasts, their nipples stiff, squashed against her ribcage by her jolting. Her head was bent, and her back and buttocks pressed against the rusty cage bars, better for an animal smaller than a woman. Her eyes were wide and frightened, yet she did not emit any sound of protest other than a whimper. The toes of her left foot were jammed into her mouth, held there by a rope, which bound her right ankle around her neck, parting her thighs and extruding the glistening lips of her quim from her panties.
Metal cuffs, looped to a pin-studded rubber punishment corselet under her breasts, clamped her wrists high up her back. Her mane of yellow hair was plastered to her skull, dripping with sweat that sparkled in the sun. A garland of honeysuckle in her hair shaded her brow. Her eyes were wide, as her two male bearers, each swathed in sky-blue robes, padded on bare feet across the rocks, towards the flogging-frame. They held the cage on poles, balanced on their shoulders, so that the girl’s shame was fully exposed to the audience of captives.
Nine sullen, fearful, wide-eyed European girls crouched barefoot on the desert rock, their wrists cuffed at the small of the back, and shackled to a chain, whose end rested with a third blue-robed guard, his free hand holding a coiled leather whip. The chained girls were nude. They crouched with their bellies positioned over spikes driven into the rock, the points almost touching their pubic mounds and keeping their bottoms high in the air. All wore pairs of nipple clamps, each pair of clamps threaded by a short chain to a spike driven into the rock, obliging the girls to hold their heads as high as their croups. The girls were bareheaded under the sun’s glare, broken only by the shadow of the ochre fortress and by human figures, stark against the desert, and by the gaunt oblong of the flogging-frame. Eddies of sand blew over their footprints from the fort to flogging-frame. From the oasis pool, beside the fort, a single track snaked through a pass in the jagged mountain; in the far heat haze, the same high peaks ringed the fortress, adding nature’s confinement to that fashioned by humans.
The blue-robed guards were ebony; two Europeans were present at the scene of punishment, and both dressed in white. One, a young, hard-muscled male, sweated in a cotton suit, with his striped silk tie tight beneath his jaw, shaded by a panama hat. The second, a woman his junior, stood with arms folded, holding two coiled whips. She wore a thin cotton peplos, hanging to just below her vulva from two knotted shoulder-strings, and cut deep at the breasts, rippling on her body free of underclothing. Her long brown legs were roped in high sandals that covered her calves. The tip of a slender cane, worn on a leather thong at her waist, slapped the ribbons of her sandals. The contours of her proudly jutting breasts and full, taut buttocks were plainly visible to the guards and audience alike, with the crimson plums of her nipples already erect in excitement as she watched the caged girl advance to her. She was bare-headed, like the other females, but with her long honey tresses smooth and a parasol held over them by another blue-robed guard. The guards approached her, stopped and, without a sound, dropped the cage with the girl inside it.
The woman in the white skirtlet walked around the cage, inspecting her prisoner. The dozen chained girls stared at the caged girl and at the woman, who smiled as her prisoner sobbed. She nodded and the blue-robed guards unlocked the cage door, dragged the girl out and untied the rope that gagged her with her toes. They wrenched her erect and forced her to stand, wailing in a choked sob, her wrists straining against the cuffs that furrowed them. Her head hung low in shame. The woman kicked her legs apart, revealing yellow liquid streaking her inner thighs.
‘Frightened, Edwige?’ she said softly.
Sniffling, but without looking up, the girl nodded.
‘Yes, Mistress,’ she sobbed.
‘Your bottom is no stranger to my cane, Edwige,’ said the blonde woman. ‘But this is your first proper whipping.’
Edwige snuffled.
Without letting go of her whips, the blonde woman cracked her palm full across Edwige’s cheek.
‘Oh …!’
‘Isn’t it, Edwige? Your first flogging?’
‘Yes, Mistress …’
‘So – this time, not dusted a few dozen stingers with my dainty woman’s cane on your bottom, but flogged by the strongest of males, on the bare back, in front of your comrades in filth … what you really came here for. Isn’t it?’
‘Oh! No, Miss Habren, I swear!’
Habren slapped her face twice more, then her bare breasts, several times, so hard that the nipples slapped one against the other.
‘Miss Edwige Joule, so prim and proper and submissive!’ she spat. ‘Is this honestly your first real flogging?’
‘You know it is! I’ve never taken a back-whipping before, only bare-bum caning! Oh, God …!’
She stooped suddenly, parting her thighs, and a jet of golden fluid hissed from her crotch, splashing her feet and the rock between them. The domina turned to her crouching prisoners.
‘Edwige disgusts me. You all disgust me,’ she spat. ‘Girls who should be the decent property of their males, allowed to roam Africa, in search of forbidden, or fancied, excitements. And you end up here, in the women’s prison. The Berber are a proud and pure people. By your immodesty, you have forfeited the right to be considered human, and are chained like bitches. Every single one of you has screamed as her bottom reddens under my cane, and still you will not learn! Perhaps Edwige’s whipping, and loss of remission, shall be a lesson. You, Edwige, shall serve your full year. It shall go easier, if you explain why you are to be flogged.’
‘I looked through the bars, Mistress, and watched a male bathing in the oasis at night,’ stammered the girl.
‘Knowing full well that a Berber male may not be seen disrobed by any woman not his wife. That was the crime that sent you to the women’s cage, wasn’t it? The male found with you went unpunished, of course – to the Berbers, the female is the temptress, the lustful beast, who must be tamed by corporal punishment. That is why canings on the bare are part of all your sentences. Any objections?’
It was not a question.
‘N-none, Mistress.’
‘Go on. Why do you merit whipping?’
‘It was the heat … this dreadful, scorching heat, night and day … I couldn’t help myself! I … I masturbated as I watched.’
‘I have caned you on the bare, several times for masturbating, Edwige. What is the tariff?’
‘Twenty-one strokes for solitary pleasure, forty-two each for girls caught together, or sixty-three each for triads …’ Edwige blurted. ‘But this heat …!’
‘On four occasions, you and two companions have taken sixty-three strokes on the naked buttocks,’ said Miss Habren crisply. ‘This time, your eyes gleamed at your cell window, and were observed by the guard, who shall now flog your back to the bone. It shall hurt much more, and much longer, and you shall bear your stripes home – if your perverse nature ever lets me release you.’
‘Oh … no! Please!’ Edwige wailed, convulsing in sobs.
At a nod from Habren, the guards ripped her T-shirt and sho
rts from her, and she stood revealed in her nudity, breasts and belly trembling, and with her massive pubic bush drenched in her sweat and the pee, which still dribbled from her shining red gash. They undid her corselet and handcuffs, showing her tan flesh bruised from the studs inside the corselet. The flogging-frame was a simple wooden oblong, embedded in a basalt plinth, with cuffs for the wrists and ankles at each of its corners. The cuffs hung on cords, adjustable to the victim’s height. Dangling from the centre of the crossbar was a headcage of metal strips: a brank, or scold’s bridle, with a tongue depressor. One berobed guard cuffed Edwige’s wrists and the other her ankles, taking only seconds as her height made no adjustment necessary.
When her naked body was stretched, hanging in a cross, between the posts of the frame, each guard disrobed and stood nude, save for a blue loin-thong. One held the girl’s head, while the other fitted her into the brank, with the tongue depressor clamped in her mouth. Although the chain was left slack, the wide collar of the brank would oblige its occupant to hold her head high throughout her punishment. Edwige faced her sister prisoners, whose eyes fixed on her nude body, already trembling and with pee dribbling from her bush. Habren handed a whip to each of the guards.
‘Two males shall whip you, Edwige –’ she said.
‘Two, Mistress? Oh …!’
‘– and naked, for their greater comfort and power. There is no taboo broken, for chained women are mere animals. They shall feast on every shudder of your whipped body, and every tear that falls from your eyes, and, when your whipping is complete, you shall not dress, so that your welts may urge your sister sluts to behave.’
She murmured in Berber dialect and both males raised their whips behind the naked prisoner. The young European male in the panama hat stared, licking his lips, at the nude body of Edwige, glazed with her sweat.
‘Satisfied?’ said Habren, and he nodded.
‘I don’t expect you to stay still, Edwige,’ said Habren, ‘or to be silent. Your brank should help muffle your screams and save you from total shame, but, I warn you, I shall extend your tariff if you blub overmuch. As it stands, your tariff is one hundred lashes. As for you, young ladies, you saw Edwige at the dormitory window, and your complicity in her crime has earned each of you a dozen strokes from my cane. You are not branked, so that if there is the slightest squeal from any girl, her set shall be repeated right from the first stroke. If it happens that I have not completed your canings by the end of Edwige’s flogging, then Edwige shall be whipped on, until your canings are complete.’
She murmured again, in Berber, and leather flashed.
Crack! Crack!
Each whip lashed Edwige’s naked back, the first striping the shoulders and the second her mid-back. Edwige’s nude body shuddered violently, her face twisted, and her gorge trembled.
Crack! Crack!
‘Mmm …!’
Habren strolled to the first of the nine pegged girls and raised her cane.
Vap!
The girl shivered, as a pink weal appeared on her bare bum-flesh.
Vap! Vap! Vap! Vap!
Her buttocks began to clench as Habren’s strokes became faster. The dry tapping of the cane was drowned by the crack of the two whips on Edwige’s naked back, the strokes now slamming her body against her restraints, as her head bobbed in its metal prison. There was no pause between the strokes, the whips dancing like twin pistons.
Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
‘Mmm! Mmm! … Mmm …’ came Edwige’s gurgling cry, her body shaken like a doll’s.
Habren completed the dozen strokes to the shivering jellies of her victim’s bare buttocks, red as her face, straining not to blub under punishment. As Habren delivered the last stroke, the girl shook desperately and a stream of pee flooded her clamped thighs. Habren smiled, lifted her skirt well above the jungle of her pubis, and looked at the young man in the panama hat, sitting forward in his chair, with his eyes darting from the flogged girl in her brank to the shuddering bare bum caned by the sandalled woman, her flimsy peplos swirling as she caned. His crotch bulged in erection as he fanned himself with a newspaper. Habren’s eyes flitted to the naked whippers, and her smile widened as she looked on their own bulging cocks beneath their blue loinstrings.
Habren raised her cane above the tensed buttocks of the second crouching girl, and placed her fingers at the wet slit under her pubic jungle. The girl’s clitoris peeped hard and swollen from the moist folds of her labia. Habren brushed her hair back from her brow, and looked at the guard who held her parasol. His robe bulged at the crotch and Habren flicked his erection with her cane tip, pursing her lips in a pout of mock surprise. She nodded and the guard grasped the hem of her dress, raising it over her swollen nipples and holding it at her collarbone, but without touching her skin. Habren placed her free hand at the jutting peach of her croup and slipped her fingers into her bum-cleft. She lifted her right leg and placed it on her left calf, widening her cunt basin, so that her palm and fingers could embrace both anus and vulva.
Vip!
As she caned her second girl, Habren began to masturbate. She reached between her thighs, stroking her wet vulva and thumbing the bud of her anus pucker as she applied even strokes of her cane to the girl’s bare.
Vip! Vip! Vip!
‘Ahh …!’ the girl moaned.
‘Blubbing! We begin again,’ hissed Habren, her fingers probing deep into her dripping slit.
The girl stifled a sob as Habren reapplied the cane to her fresh welts, deepening them to crimson and making the buttocks clench white around the dark red stripes. Each stroke slammed the girl’s clamped nipples against their fastening and jerked her belly close to the raised spike, close beneath her opened buttocks. Habren took her to her dozen; the girl’s body quivered helplessly, her face red and her buttocks squirming, clenching flans of crimson. Come dripped on the spike, inches below her moist gash flaps.
As she caned the next girl, Habren’s eyes fixed on the whip-jolted body of Edwige, flogged on her bare back and jerking in the frame as each lash of the twin thongs scarred her. Habren’s aim to the buttocks, bared below her, was swift and accurate, and no sound accompanied the caning, save for her victim’s faster and faster panting and the slam of her nipple-clamps against their tethering spike. Habren’s fingers were slopped with juice from her own swollen red gash and, without pausing in her caning, she slid her hand from her anal cleft, to lick her fingers clean.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
Edwige’s body dripped tears and sweat, as each whipstroke sliced her. Deep in her throat, a harsh gurgling whimper vibrated, her clamped tongue unable to form words. Her whippers glistened with sweat, their muscles rippling over their massively swollen loin-pouches, as they striped Edwige’s writhing golden back, her ribs pulsing into relief at each shuddering breath between strokes. Her breasts bounced like balls beneath the collar of her brank at each crack of leather on spine and shoulders. As Habren caned the last girl, Edwige’s gurgle of agony was a long, single mewl. Her vulva dribbled pee without ceasing, yet the yellow fluid glistened with pouch-oil. Whipped so hard, the girl was juicing at her gash.
Habren paused as the last girl raised her bottom a fraction and parted the cheeks, to show the hairy wet mass of her pouch and perineum. Her auburn hair was cropped to sleek fleece but her mound boasted a jungle rivalling Habren’s; the breasts, massive as Habren’s own, pressed around their spike, unstrained by the nipple-clamps, and her pencil waist ripened into tan buttocks like bursting calfskin, lined with cane marks, with her cunt dripping come over the menacing belly-spike.
‘One would think your bottom invited my cane,’ Habren murmured. ‘And your gash, too, so insolently displayed. English, aren’t you? Susan Race … cheeky bitch.’
The girl did not respond but stared at Edwige’s squirming body.
Vip!
Habren slashed her cane hard between the arse-cheeks, deep in Susan’s befurred slit. Susan shuddered but did not squeal.
Vip! Vip!
Vip!
Habren lashed her again on the open vulva, and twice more. Her fingernails were a blur as she masturbated.
‘Those strokes don’t count to your caning,’ she panted, and Susan nodded, smiling as she gasped.
Vip!
The cane lashed Susan’s bared buttocks full in mid-fesse. The hard, muscled flesh quivered as a pink weal appeared amid the hardened dark skin of previous canings.
Vip! Vip!
Two strokes took her on the tender skin of the upper fesses.
Vip! Vip!
Two more followed, one to each haunch, raising livid welts. Susan’s cheeks began to clench, rapidly and involuntarily, as the wood reddened her skin. Her back remained straight and her breasts quivered only slightly at each impact. Juice flowed from her swollen pouch flaps. Suddenly, Edwige’s mewling became a muffled howl. The whips continued to stroke her back, but she threw herself against the flogging-frame, instead of allowing the whips to jolt her, and began to jerk her branked head from side to side, her eyes wide, staring at Habren. Habren paused in caning Susan’s bare.
‘Mm! Mm! Mm!’ moaned Edwige, shaking her head frantically.
‘How many strokes left?’ Habren barked.
‘Sixteen, Mistress,’ said the first whipper.
‘Mm! Mm!’ sobbed the flogged girl, shaking her head.
‘Can’t take it, Edwige?’ said Habren. ‘Had enough?’
Edwige nodded yes, her moans fainter.
‘Give the girl her sixteen, and continue to whip her until I have finished this one,’ Habren rapped, and recommenced her caning of Susan.
Crack! Crack!
The whips streaked across Edwige’s writhing bare back.
Vip! Vip! Vip! Vip!
Four strokes bruised Susan right on the softest skin of her top buttocks, and her back and buttocks began to shudder.