A Baroness' Whip Lust Read online

  All the sounds of the ship were amplified; the groaning of the planks, the wind in the sails, even the chattering of the assembled guests who would witness the same cruelties that I had seen years ago.

  I glanced from the Baroness, with blood lust in her eyes, over to my Phoebe. She was fighting with a member of the ship's crew over what was about to happen to me. The wind and the chattering of the guests prevented me from hearing her words. I knew that whatever she was doing was an effort to save me from an inevitable whipping.

  “Phoebe!!!”, I called out, “Let it go, and don't watch!!”

  I didn't want her to be whipped as well. I saw Phoebe just turn-away and shove the sailor away from her.

  “Let this start”, said the Baroness.

  I stared at the ocean and tried to ignore all the sounds. I concentrated on the image of the blue waves and tried somehow to meditate on the idea of the timelessness of the ocean.

  I kept thinking that so many had made this journey and it would wind-up being such a short chapter in my life. I stared-up at two white sea-gulls flying near the ship. I was calmed by the thought that these creatures of nature would be oblivious to what would happen to me.

  Like Nell's whipping at the prison, I thought, it would be a mere ten minutes out of my whole life. My back would be a mess for a week, but Phoebe would not care. Even if I had life-long scars, Phoebe wouldn't care.

  THWIICCCKKKK! The first lash landed across my bare shoulders like a spear thrust into me. I looked out onto the sea for some way to gain some calm.

  “One!”, the Baroness called-out loudly, just as the matron had announced the lashes for poor Nell at the prison.

  CRAAACCCKKKK!, came the second lash, as I first heard all the assembled guests utter a sound, like:”OOOOOOOH!”

  I looked at the Baroness just as she said, “Two.”

  Phoebe had gone below decks, I assumed to our cabin, not wanting to see the brutality of what was happening to me.

  The ship was beginning to toss slightly in the wind as the third lash bit my bare back. I saw the Baroness grab the rail for support, yet she didn't miss counting the third lash out-loud.

  I thought that maybe an approaching storm would cut the whipping short. The sea was jouncing the ship and the witnesses to my whipping needed to grab railings for support. It wasn't enough to prevent the fourth lash. I bit the inside of my arm as the Baroness called-out, “FOUR.”

  The scraping of the ropes against my bare breasts was its own punishment. The groaning of the wooden and rope elements of the ship seemed to make it even worse!

  The reactions of the crowd were now louder, even if a few had gone below-decks.

  The wind masked the sound of the whistling whip for me. I had no time to prepare myself for the next lash. Yet the vicious sound of the crack of the lash was easily heard by those assembled to view my punishment and my gurgling response.

  THWWWIISSSKKKK!! My bare back was basted again by the long cat-o-nine tails!

  “UHHHH, PLEASE!”, I uttered as I heard a loud “OOOOOOOOOOOH” from the crowd. I suspected that most of the crowd was as tantalized by my whipping as I was at Bridewell Prison. I blubbered in my agony, glad that Phoebe couldn’t see this.

  I had surrendered every bit of pride or resistance. I was screaming as the whip bit my back and the ropes scraped my tender breasts. My screams were very brief intermissions to a sound that I make while gargling with mouthwash.

  The sixth, seventh and eighth lash seemed to steel my resolve. I did begin to hear some of the women yell, “This is not right!!!”

  THWWWIIKKKK! The ninth lash shoved my breasts into the harsh sail ropes. I began to worry as much about my breasts as my back ..

  THWAAAAKKKKK!” At lash number ten, the Baroness strode right up to my face, cupping my chin, saying, “That's ten!”

  I looked at her defiantly. I looked into her eyes with pure hate, as if to say, “Someday, you will be tied here and I will wield the lash.” She backed-away, seeming to understand the depth of the violence that I had deep inside me.

  With the next four lashes, I suffered horribly, but resolved not to cry-out.

  I looked straight into the eyes of the dreaded witch. who was the unjust cause of my suffering.. I imagined her tied to the stout ropes, with an American bullwhip cutting her bare back! I tried to think of the frightening sound it would make.

  CRAAAACCCKKKKK! Then came the fifteenth lash, and the halfway point .of my sentenced punishment. I was unable to resist a loud scream. The sting of the lash brought me to the point of near blindness. I thought of Phoebe below decks, and could imagine her shrieking and crying with every stroke of the whip.

  The next three lashes focused me only on my new life in America with Phoebe. My back had gone numb, though I could hear the Baroness count-out every one. With each lash of the whip, her smile grew a bit wider.

  I could hear the witnessing crowd's voices grow louder. It seemed that most of voices were now in my defense. Even the sea-gulls seemed to cry louder.

  THWWWIIIIIIIKKKKK! I wondered if my back had any skin left on it. I entered into a cruel fantasy about cutting the Baroness's throat with a cutlass.

  The twentieth lash defeated me. My knees buckled, I tugged hard at the ropes and I began to scream.

  “That's twenty!”, called-out the Baroness.

  I hung limp from the sail-ropes; I could not even think of Phoebe's cries anymore.

  The crude sailor who had been administrating the whipping seemed more interested in my ample breasts than in my suffering.

  I also heard a growing chorus from the crowd witnessing my punishment, saying: “That will do!” I bit one of the stout ropes in anticipation of the remaining punishment.

  During the next four lashes, I blubbered a combination of shrieks and pleas for mercy.

  My resolve to stay quiet was all gone.

  “That's more than quite enough!”, I heard one of the elder British ladies say.

  The patrician accent was unmistakable. I had the hope that this noble lady could pull rank on a Baroness. After all, a Baroness ranks well below many other figures in British Royalty.

  “Begin number twenty-five!”, said the Baroness. The sailor responded with another horrible lash!

  I screamed in my misery as the long whip beat my white back into deeper shade of red.

  “I said, ENOUGH!!!!” , said the Duchess..The Lady was the wife of The Duke of Mountbatten, and second only to a Princess in British Royalty.

  She walked briskly to the Baroness and stared into her eyes, saying, “You have no idea of who a Duchess is, do you?”

  The Baroness was frozen in her steps. I looked over, hanging from my whipping rig.

  I could see her eyes widen with fear, realizing at that moment that she could very easily take my place on the sail-rigging within a minute..

  The Baroness stumbled in her speech and stepped backwards. “DO YOU???”, insisted The Duchess.

  “Yes, Lady Mountbatten”, stammered the Baroness. “We may have made a mistake”, said the Baroness.. “We will care for the girl in our cabin”.

  “See that you do, and do it well!!”, barked the Duchess. She was so much more regal-looking than the Baroness. Her facial features and her voice suggested she might have been a Queen. She was twenty years older than the Baroness, yet lovelier in every way.

  Under the eyes of the Duchess and a very nervous Captain, I was taken-down from the harsh rope sail-rigging and taken into Emily's hands. Emily gestured for help, as she was not able to support my limp body all by herself. The Captain motioned for two crew members to assist supporting me under my armpits to the Baroness's cabin. My breasts dangled freely for all to watch.

  I was led towards the Baroness's cabin as my sweet Phoebe emerged from below-decks. It seemed that her eyes were filled with roaring flames. She wrapped her arms around my neck, careful to avoid my whipped back, and whispered loudly, “ I have the perfect instrument of revenge.”

  I looked at Phoebe's
big eyes and asked her what she meant. She whispered that she had wrested a double barreled cap-fired pistol from the crew member, just like Emily had planted the necklace on me.

  “I'll shoot her in the face”, whispered Phoebe.

  “Don't even think about that!”, I whispered back. “They won't just whip you, they'll hang you! I want you to STAY with me in America!”

  “Promise me!”, I yelled to Phoebe as I was being led-away to the Baroness's cabin.

  Phoebe nodded with a pouting look that said she would listen to me, even though she wanted to follow her own instincts. She began to cry uncontrollably.

  I was led-away to the Baroness's cabin as Phoebe cried. I retained the image of her pretty face as the only source of comfort that I had.

  I was placed on a wide bed of feather stuffing .It was so much softer than the burlap canvass covering straw that I had become used to. Emily began to minister to my lash-marks with fresh water and knitted cotton bandage strips.

  The Baroness smirked at the two crewmen as she raised my skirt and lowered my drawers, exposing my pink pussy.”Maybe you would both like to be inside this pinkness”, said the Baroness to the two imbeciles who had led me inside.

  The Baroness began to tie my wrists to the bedposts, as Emily tended to my whipped back.

  Then, my drawers were slipped-off my legs, exposing my pink feminine essence.

  The Baroness giggled as she tied my ankles to the foot of the bed, smiling and giggling at Emily, who knew exactly what was to follow.

  The Baroness held-up her hand in front of the two crude crewmen. She pulled-out a Half-Crown from her purse, pointed to it, and then gestured to each of the crewmen. “Only one will get the chance, and the coin”, she said. Based on who called-out, 'heads', or 'tails', only one would get both.

  She flipped the heavy coin only a few inches into the air, and then smiled to one of the crude sailors. The one who had called-out, “tails” was the winner. The other was dismissed, no doubt terribly disappointed.

  Then the Baroness pointed to my pussy and also motioned to Emily to undress.

  Emily nervously obeyed. I couldn't help but admire Emily's pretty bareness. She had smallish breasts and wonderfully shaped long legs. She was not quite as lovely as my dear Phoebe, yet I kept thinking that Phoebe and I could enjoy this pretty young lady.

  I had my opened pussy stabbed by the turgid, if not overly large cock of the crewman. I gripped my bindings as tightly as I had during the whipping against the huge ropes that supported the sails. I squinted as the invasion began and cried out-loud.

  Emily was bare at this point, and I knew that she would have to pleasure the Baroness.

  The use of my pussy was just an amusement for the Baroness! I was having my feminine essence pounded for the mere entertainment of this horrible young woman!

  As I endured it, my imagination went to my Phoebe firing both lead balls from that pistol into the Duchess' face, smattering her brains and teeth all over the cabin!

  The Baroness rucked-up her skirts as she commanded Emily to remove her silken undergarments and begin pleasing her. As I felt my pussy being stretched , I knew that this was not the first time that Emily had to perform such a duty!.

  Emily was so pretty, her lovely breasts enticed me even when I first saw a hint of them. Now, Emily was completely bared to my eyes.

  Emily began her duty. .I saw her contoured waist and pretty buns as she dove to satisfy her employer. I was mere inches away from Emily's scent as she had to obey. My use was completed by a loud groan of satisfaction from the sailor. Feeling the entrance of hot semen for the first time, I let out a yell. It was a combination of surprise and a prayer that I would not become pregnant.

  Then, I had to take Emily's place. No matter how pretty the Baroness was, and no matter how deeply I had been pulled into lesbian sex, this was as going to be as bad as being used by a crude sailor! I pretended that I was tasting my dearest Phoebe Here I was licking the essence of the one that I really wanted to see dead!

  I licked her pussy with the thoughts of finally being FREE of this dreadful witch!

  We would land in New York the very next day, and that would be the last I would ever see of her.

  As the Baroness humiliated me with the spurts from her pussy, poor Emily was ordered to drink the cum of the sailor who used me. I reached-back with my right hand to pat Emily's shoulder in comfort as she licked my pussy of the vile semen that had been deposited inside me.

  I had to spend the night in the Baroness' bed with Emily. After all, I was still tied by one ankle, and it WAS so much more comforting than Phoebe's or my straw bunk.

  It was very easy to fall asleep that night. A brutal whipping, a horrid invasion of my pussy and complete humiliation had taken away a week's worth of energy from me.

  And, I had a plan..

  I was to be released the next day, re-united with my dearest Phoebe as we approached the docks in New York I put my arm around Emily's shoulder as she turned me onto my side for comfortable sleep.

  In the morning, I awakened in The Baroness's bed, having my last ankle restraint untied by Emily. I smiled to Emily and quickly dressed. Stiff as I was from the whipping yesterday, I bounded-down the stairs to our community cabin below decks.

  Phoebe was just awakening from a fitful sleep when I rushed to her bed. Her mouth made a huge “O” shape when she saw me first, glad that I was even still alive.

  “Darling!”, she screamed, now not caring at all if the other girls knew that we were lesbians. I kissed Phoebe so hard! I went on and on kissing her over and over, tasting her mouth. She withdrew her lips from mine for a moment.

  “My God, Emma!”, Phoebe exclaimed. “Are you alright?”

  I removed my blouse to show Phoebe my whipped back. She began to cry as she saw the harsh purple stripes from the lash. She gently kissed my back and reached around to caress my bared breasts, still weeping.

  “Look at what they did to her!”, Phoebe screamed at the other girls. All the other girls had witnessed my whipping yesterday. They began to exclaim, “It's horrible!”, and “That was so wrong!”

  One of the younger girls, Clara, began to cry like Phoebe. Clara was a sweet, but homely girl with a hugely long nose. She began to kiss my cheek. I saw her eyes wander to my right bare breast, as Phoebe was softly cradling it in her hand.

  “All right, then,” I said. “We're in New York. We're in America now.”

  I put my blouse back on and began to gather all my things. I whispered to Phoebe, “Do you still have that pistol?”

  Phoebe nodded as I smiled and said, “That is going to be our start in America.”

  I could tell from Phoebe's face that she had no idea of what I meant.

  We all headed up to the main deck to see the approaching city of New York. As soon as we left the mildewed cabin and arrived on the sun-splashed main deck, it was such a sight!

  New York was nowhere near as sprawling as London, but we immediately remarked on the presence of buildings as high as eighteen floors! It was explained to us that the reason for such immense buildings was the American invention of the electric elevator.

  What a place this was! All new, all filled with things that belonged to the new world!

  “Why would anyone ever want to go back to England?”, I thought. Even still on the ocean, it was so much warmer that it was in England.

  My face flushed as I thought that Phoebe and I could one day achieve the same status as nobles, through only our own endeavors! All of the tales of riches in America seemed completely true to me.

  What a happy co-incidence it was that we spotted the Duchess, who had halted my whipping, just before were about to disembark. The Duchess inquired as to my well-being after yesterday's whipping. I assured her that the opportunity that was ahead of us was plenty to make me forget about the brutality of the day before. Yet, I thanked her repeatedly for interceding in my unjust punishment.

  The Duchess was most pleasant to the both of us, act
ually making a fuss over Phoebe and I. She inquired as to where we would spent our first night in New York. I explained that we had enough British coins with us to obtain over a week in a New York boarding room. After that, we were both confident in finding immediate employment as a cook and seamstress.

  The Duchess invited the both of us to the home of the New York Senator Edward Murphy, the American host of the Duchess. Phoebe and I would both be supplied fine dresses to attend a dinner, and be given a room with a private bath to prepare and sleep.

  This was impossible to imagine! We would spend our first night in New York in a mansion! The Duchess explained that out of courtesy, the Baroness and Emily were also invited.. I didn't care if Satan was also invited.

  Several horse-drawn 'cabs' awaited to take us all to the Senator's mansion on Fifth Avenue in New York Along the way, I saw a few motorized vehicles. It was explained to us that these were called automobiles, and they would soon replace all horse-drawn vehicles. Even the Duchess was nearly breathless at seeing them.

  We descended from our cab and our mouths gaped open. The Senator's home seemed to us like a British castle, so much larger than any home we had ever even entered. Several well-dressed servants directed us to our 'suite'.

  There were woven carpets on the floors. Dark wooden hand carved staircases and crown moldings accented the main center hall. Even our own room was filled with intricate plasterwork, painted in pastel shades that Phoebe and had never seen before. The dresser and bed-side tables were topped with marble!

  Phoebe and I dove into the enormous claw-footed porcelain bathtub. The water was heated to the point where our skin became bright pink, and the soaps that were provided were like none that we had ever seen! After washing every inch of ourselves and our hair, we also washed all of our meager clothes in the tub and set them to dry on the edge.

  Hugely thick towels, woven from Georgia cotton, were there for us to dry ourselves.

  I didn't even care that Georgia was named after King George III. It was Georgia, and part of this great new country. So many of the other names of the American states were magical. Ohio...Mississippi...Indiana...Michigan! What wonderful things must exist in places with names like that?