One of the overseers held her in place over the bar with a large flattened hand placed firmly on the small of her back while she wiggled her rump and strained upward. The other man dropped to one knee and, clamping her wrist, pulled down on her dangling arm. The girl flailed her legs in screeching protest, kicking her heels, but the men who held her stepped back quickly, and the heavy hand that pressed against her kept her pinned firmly in place. Now they held her legs and bound them together with strips of leather tied around her thighs and again around her calves.
The crouching man was working with swift efficiency now, running twine from the leather wristbands to a convenient wooden stake sunk in the ground to serve as an anchoring point Taking up the slack in the line had the effect of drawing the girl still farther over the crossbar till her tightly bound legs hung straight down on the near side, toes pointed down and stiffened so they barely touched the grass.
Now that she was stretched over the bar and held in place, the two overseers stood up and turned to bow briefly to their master. One of them unhooked a paddle which hung from his belt and handed it over to Kimar. It had a short handle and a wide, flat blade of thin, pliable, stiffened leather. The two capable assistants were now dismissed, as the master would no longer need their services. The Saxon slave would be his to do with as he would!
Kimar approached the upended miscreant from behind, beckoning me to his side. Quite deliberately, he placed a hand on the served-up buttocks, curving his fingers to fit the mounded crests. The feel of his hand sent his victim mewing into her gag, twitching her hips in anxious protest, the only movement left to her in her perilous situation. The continuing protest brought a smile to the weary face of the old slaver, who took his time feeling her up, running his hand over the twin contours, testing the firm resiliency of those generous asscheeks. Obviously pleased in contemplating the task he was about to undertake, the old slaver stepped back and stood eyeing the squirming behind while tapping his palm lightly with the paddle.
Now he took up his position behind and just to the left of the dangling legs, tapping the blade of the paddle squarely across the nicely presented bottom so that he was assured of the proper range to his target He smiled to see her buttocks cringe under the first light kiss of leather. Now he widened his stance, setting his heels in place. Slowly, he drew back the wicked paddle and with a sudden snap of his wrist sent it whipping toward the girl’s jutting bottom.
“Thwack!” The snapping blade splattered those gelatinous mounds, drawing a muffled yelp from the girl, who jerked upward on her bonds as the impact shuddered through her stretched-out form.
Now Kimar settled into a steady rhythm, spanking the slave girl-not hard, but with short, choppy strokes, administered rapidly, until he had those choice wobbling rearmounds dancing wildly under the repeated slap of the flexible paddle. The relentless smacks soon had the girl twitching in fiery agitation, muffled yelps coming from her inverted head with each decisive slap of the quivering mounds.
Eventually, Kimar slowed the pace, pausing somewhat longer between each repeated smack.
“Thwack!”…Her asscheeks flattened and rebounded, leaving a red welt to spread across the twin curving surfaces… “Thwack!”…The blade whacked the bouncy mounds solidly… “Thwack!”…Another firm, decisive stroke, delivered quite dispassionately by the master slaver, whose eyes were hard and whose lips were set in a tight, determined line.
The girl’s fearful asscheeks cringed, clenching so that the sides hollowed out as the young Saxon woman steeled herself to meet the next attack. Her butt muscles contracted tightly, coiling down to harden the rearmounds and constrict the centerline to a deep, narrow slit.
“Thwack!” Kimar walloped her hardened butt, smacking it squarely across the twin contours with a crisp snap of the wrist. There was an unmistakable howl of outrage, an urgent braying muffed by the wadded rags they had stuffed into her mouth, the gag that was held in place by the silken scarf that bound her head.
Now the slave master paused and stepped up to squat down near her inverted head as it dangled between taut, outstretched arms. He reached out to her, cupping her chin and holding it in his fingers as he lifted her head so that he might look into the wide, moist eyes that met his over the silken scarf. I don’t know what he saw there. Perhaps it was the hurt, or abject contrition, or maybe a silent plea for mercy; but whatever it was he saw there, it brought a smile to his lips. He reached under her to feel a dangling breast quickly before rising and stepping back to take up his position again. Without further ado, he swung the paddle back in a wide, full arc and brought it forward with vigor, ending the swing with a crisp, authoritative snap of the wrist.
“Thwack!” The solid blow landed heavily, ringing out across the exercise yard. The muffled shriek it brought was long and wavering. At that, Kimar was apparently satisfied. Obviously pleased with his handiwork, he nodded in grim satisfaction and ran a hand over the girl’s warm, flinching rear end. Turning to me, he asked politely if I would like to try my hand. While watching the Saxon girl get spanked had resulted in quite an unsettling effect on me, and my swollen penis hung heavy beneath my loincloth stirring at the sight of those well-punished buttocks, I declined politely. Perhaps I felt some twinge of pity for the chastised slave, who surely had learned her lesson. Kimar shrugged his shoulders and suggested that perhaps someday I would like to take a more active role. 1 need only say so, and it would be arranged!
To complete her punishment, the girl would be left on display in the hot sun for one hour, held in place stretched over the bar so she might contemplate the lesson she had been taught. Her fiery buttocks, smarting from the angry sting of the wicked paddle, would serve as an object lesson to her companions who would be marched slowly past so they might view her throbbing ass and reflect on the price of disobedience.
As Kimar had promised, I was to witness many such exhibitions over the next few months, and to play the disciplinarian’s part in more than a few of them. But of these various entertaining spectacles, none was so unforgettable as the time Kimar arranged to have four of his slaves punished simultaneously. His overseers had uncovered a plot: the four young women hoped to run away and hide in the woods. There were some transgressions that the slave master would tolerate, viewing them as only minor indiscretions; but attempting to escape was another matter! It was an offense that was taken quite seriously. Any girl caught trying to escape was inevitably dealt with most severely, so that she might be made an example of to those who might be foolish enough to entertain similar notions. As a measure of my growing status as a very special guest, Kimar arranged for a private disciplinary session for the quartet of would-be escapees to be held in his tent.
That evening, when I entered Kimar’s tent, I saw that the furniture had been rearranged. The small couches and pillows had been pushed back along the canvas walls, leaving plenty of room at the center of the huge tent for a sturdy cushioned bench that was low, long, and narrow. A padded board, the same size and shape as the bench, was hinged to it at one end so that the board could be lifted and swung up out of the way.
The purpose of this ingenious arrangement was demonstrated for me. Sandwiched between the padded surfaces were the four naked malefactors, who knelt on hands and knees, their lithe young bodies draped over the bench, bellies pressed down on the leather-covered padding. The top board had been lowered to cross along the shallow curves of the lower backs, and then locked down at the far end, thus clamping the row of kneeling maidens in place. Imprisoned between the two padded surfaces, each girl found herself on hands and knees, her shoulders and hips snuggled cozily to her mate’s. She presented her naked buttocks for our edification and approval. I noted that each girl not only had been gagged with a wide leather strap tied behind her head, but she was also blindfolded. This latter refinement of the wily slave master’s served to increase their helplessness and, by depriving them of knowledge of the approach of their chastisers, introduce the element of surprise into their punishment. A girl might shudder at the thud of the paddle, cringe to hear her friend’s muffled cries, sympathize as she squirmed in distress. It increased her own fearful expectation to know that her time was about to come, but never to know exactly when the paddle might strike her vulnerable behind.