Варвары или Описание налета гильветов под предводительством Крулла на римские галеры, рабынь перевозившие - Марк Десадов

bitch had no compunction whatsoever in laying the lash to the defenceless child, and doing so in the most punishing way possible. She wanted to hurt her and permanently mark her if she could, in order to teach the disgustingly beautiful and sexually precocious child the cost of consorting with these brutal salvers. The black woman was so angry with the unrepentant little girl that if the opportunity presented itself, she would willingly kill that tart little cunt with the obscene grin. This profane child had been entertaining the chief of the Barbarians throughout the afternoon, gleefully riding his penis like a sprite on a horse. What was worse was that the little harlot was black, and as such was a disgrace to her race. That flagrant little slut would feel the sting of the whip for so openly enjoying what a real woman was intended to endure with anguish. Ooti was not prepared for the bitter sting of the whip. It hurt her more than she could have imagined possible. She was also not ready for the ferocity of the vicious onslaught of the punishing woman- whip in the hands of one of her own race. She had expected that the big black bitch would have tickled, not stung her, with the leather weapon. The second stroke of the whip had crossed her belly, and curved around to cross her back. Its sting was so sudden and sharp that she nearly leaped off the thick male shaft invading her anus. She screamed in horror, first from the searing pain, and then with shock that anyone could do anything so terrible to her. Ooti had almost always been on the giving end, and was not well adjusted to receiving such merciless punishment, particularly not from another female slave. Suddenly, for the first time in her young life, Ooti felt very vulnerable. She had often watched as women had been brutally whipped by their cruel masters, and she had enjoyed their terribly and usually hysterical displays of suffering. In her world, the extreme punishment of slave women and wives was a common source of diversion and entertainment among those men wealthy enough to own a stable of slaves. Ooti had also been clever enough to play the coquette, and her impish seductive grin had usually earned her a place at the side of her master, or upon his penis. Her sexual skills had worked well to keep her there. She was valued by most of her masters for what she could do to arouse their lusts. For most slave owners, who had to earn both their position and their slaves, that had been enough. Now things were quite different. These Barbarians were not at all interested in the value of slaves, beyond the entertainment value they got from the very coarsest and violent of female punishments. A slave's value was based upon how loud she could scream, how long she could endure dismemberment and evisceration, and by how much blood she spilled before she succumbed to her terminal torture. The whip came slashing up across Ooti's tight belly and struck her face, splitting her lip. Ooti screamed, and the hurt was so intense that she thought she was going to vomit. She could taste her own blood, and was frightened at the thought of how much blood she might spill before her new master was satisfied. The vicious lash swung upward at an angle, between her legs, and missed Krull's testicles by an inch as it stunned the naked crease and double-lipped fold of Ooti's little cunt. The pain to her sex organ from that blow exploded through her groin and lower torso. Her hairless little twat bounced from the force of the impact, and droplets of crimson blood showed along the slit of the immature little fuck slot. She was hurt in a way no woman was able to endure, with a pain that only another woman could inflict. This was woman to woman, as Krull had intended. In this case, it was woman to child, and the remarkable little girl riding Krull's sex shaft with her colon was taking a severe stripping down of her ego as well as a physically exacting beating to her beautiful young body. Long slender welts began to rise on the flawless brown flesh of the child. As they grew, the welts became firm and an angry red along their ridge. These were not seen by a well trained slave as punishment, but rather as servicing by her master. It was a slave's place to receive the whip, and a good welting was worn as a mark of pride by most slaves. To the sex slave, any abuse to her body by her master was considered a compliment. The supreme compliment to a sex slave was for her master to amuse himself by killing her. If he did it too quickly it was a retribution, but if it was done slowly and sumptuously, where he enjoyed her pain, it ws the ultimate compliment and crowning achievement of her career. Ooti sensed she was not going to leave the beach alive, and she had little interest in being moved around the country, being forced to work. She decided it would suit her perfectly if her new master decided to kill her now. She would show him her pain in order that he could enjoy her sacrifice to him. As the whip sung its wind-splitting song, the young girl's screams increased in pitch, length, and power. Ooti was taking an incredible and ceaseless beating, with little pause between lashes of the biting woman-hide whip. The black slave woman wielding it was as merciless as a Barbarian as she laid the tightly braided human leather to the child's tenderized flesh, with devastating effect. Both the woman and the child were working up a sweat, as the watching men firmly stoked their erections and worked up a different kind of lather. These brutal Barbarians were all partial to