A Sailor's Yarn

The village woman's head was thrown back, her face was reddened and the veins of her forehead stood out in a ghastly manner. Her body arched against the ropes, her eyes bulged. The terrifying screech was emitting from her gaping mouth. The sailor looked to her nether quarters and saw there two weals cut in diagonals across the bruised buttocks - a perfect X branded into the bottom. So red it was that he first thought it to be stripes of blood. The banshee cries continued until at last the woman gave way to deep gasps and moans and she fell upon the table.

The hunter turned to the bride.

"Nooo! Please! I cannot survive! Noooo! God, noooo!"

She strained at her binds until it seemed her slender wrists and ankles would snap. She wriggled and clenched her bottom cheeks. Her beseeching dissolved into wordless sobs. The hunter stood behind her, whip in hand, and watched her throes of agony with an amused smile.

Then he began to cast the whip the about in a great circle above him. The sailor felt the wind from it upon his face. The girl's sobs turned to heaves and she closed her eyes tight to that which was to come. The hunter brought the tail down hard, then flicked his arm as to draw the number eight. The result was two terrible scourges upon the globes that resonated like a gunshot and its echo.

The blows forced the bride violently against the table. She convulsed, jerked her head upward and opened her mouth to scream - but no sound came. Instead, the blue eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed into a faint. A trickle of piddle issued from the tiny cunt onto the ground.

Auna did not turn away as the hunter approached him, but rather her eyes pierced him with smoldering insolence.

"Ah, a cheeky one, eh? That's fine, lass. I like a bit of pepper on me meat."

He examined her injured bottom.

"Someone has made it tender for me, dearie. Made it ready for the cutting. Let's see if we can bring about a squeal or a bellow for these good people, shall we?"

He took his stance behind her, stretched his shoulders, shook his arms and hopped about like a pugilist preparing for a bout in the prize ring. The crowd tittered at his comic parody. Then he flicked the whip, bringing its tip to a snap just above Auna's head. She blinked, but did not flinch. He snapped it again and again, each time within inches of her body.

Finally he brought it down upon her with incredible power. The force of the twin blows was so great that it pinioned Auna's bottom hard against the table and jolted it forward. A collective groan rose from the townspeople. Auna's body arched so violently that her wrists wrenched free of the binds. Her mouth flew open in violent expulsion of breath. She bit down hard on her lower lip to stifle the scream.

"Wait a bit, Lassie," the hunter said as he coiled his whip. "The sting of the cut is not nearly so painful as the hurt that seeps into the flesh."

Indeed it was true, for Auna gasped and clinched the violated cheeks as the sharp ache spread into the muscle and nerves. She ground her teeth against the pain and veins stood taut in her neck as the crimson X rose upon her bottom. She drew deep gulps of air and her bosom heaved. Tears flowed down her cheeks. But she did not cry out.

Freed from the binds at her wrists she stood upright and turned slowly to her assailant. Her eyes burned in rage and his own smoldered at being denied the shriek of agony. Then he brightened, smiled, touched his hand to his hat and strode away.

The crowd stood silent for a long moment, then broke into laughter and cheers. The constable looked at his pocket watch.

"Time!" he called.

The village woman's family swarmed about her, cutting the cords and pulling her skirts down to cover her nakedness. They lifted her tenderly from the table and her rheumy-eyed husband sheepishly assisted her to a waiting wagon. The woman moaned at each touch and movement.

The cuckolded husband cut his young bride free and, mindless of her anguished screeches, tossed her over his shoulder like a potato sack and carried her off. He did not bother to lower her skirts.

The pubmen slapped each other's backs and laughed and made their way for a morning pint. The sailor was left with Auna. He cut the cords at her feet and gingerly rolled down her skirts. He tried to put his arm about her waist, but she pushed him aside and began walking away. She walked bent like an old crone and grimaced with each step.

"Let me help you," the sailor begged, but the maid shook her head. He stayed at her side as she made her path across the square.

A few lingerers pointed at her and smirked. When she was in the shaded alley away from their eyes, she sighed deeply and fell into a faint. The sailor caught her and carried her to her room above the pub.

He placed her gently upon her bed then went to the apothecary where he bought a tin of ointment. When he returned to her, he lifted her skirts, and lightly placed a dollop of salve upon her swollen flesh. She awoke at his touch and gasped.

"It is all right, " the sailor said. "This will ease the burn."

Auna eyed the ointment warily, then turned her bottom fully to him. He daubed the salve gently, but even the lightest touch elicited a moan. He spread the balm with the lightness of a feather until the moans of pain became sighs of relief.

"I saw you in the square," she said.

"Yes, I was there."

"Did you whip me?"

"No."

"Did you want to?"

He did not answer for a long moment.

"I grieved for your pain, Auna, but the sight of you bent and beaten aroused me like nothing ever before."

She turned to him.

"Yes. Peculiar how such displays harden the cock. And look here."

She spread her legs to show him her cunt. It was sodden with her moisture.

"Even in anguish the quim asserts its lust. See its lewd craving!"

His cock leapt against the breeches and she reached out to touch the bulge.

"Do not be gentle," she said.

He stripped at once and the cock emerged red and swollen as the wench's bottom. It jerked and pulsed of its own wanton accord.

The sailor grasped Auna at the hips, ignoring her hiss of pain as he lifted the bottom to position. He thrust his cock into the wet cunt, pushing open the velvet folds until he had her fully upon the shaft. Auna gasped at the boldness of the impalement and at the pain his belly brought against her wounded flesh.

He thrust again and relished the lascivious hot wetness of the girl's interior. Then he began the fuck, rutting hard into her. He fucked with libidinous abandon, mindless of the moans of the injured woman. He thought of her under the cane and the whip, of the bottom quivering helplessly at the blows. He thought of the lovely bum of the bride, beaten to blisters - and he thought of the lewd and laughing youths poking their at the engorged quim of the shamed village woman.

His mind swam with the images of the naked bottoms, red with bruising and glistening with sweat and juices. He pressed ever harder into Auna and she bit at her clenched fist. He fucked her faster until the smacking of flesh was like the fall of the canes and the whip. His whole being descended into the head of his cock as it battered into her. He felt the urge to come and both hastened it with faster strokes and forestalled it with his will. At last it could no longer be bridled and he slapped at the wounded bottom as great hot spurts of his seed shot deep into Auna.

She screamed.

The sailor kept her impaled upon the shaft until the seed was fully spent and its pulsating lust subsided. Then he withdrew it and laid the woman gently on her side. She heaved for a long while, then her breath became shallow and she drifted into sleep. He covered her and took his leave.

He also took his leave of the village that evening, just as the sun began to set and the laughter of the men rose from the pub.

"'T’was among the best fucks I ever had," the old sailor said.

"Is the story true?" I asked.

"Could I fancy up such a tale, mate?" he said and stared woefully into his empty glass.

I tossed a coin on the table, clapped the old salt on the shoulder, and went into the night. The wind was bitter and wet flakes of snow whipped about. I looked into the window of the pub and saw the old sailor mumbling. Perhaps it was another yarn.

But no one was there to hear.