Harem punishment. I am strapped tightly with my bare bottom exposed, sobbing from the pain of the strokes I have already received. The room is filled with the sweet smell of incense and soft Oriental music can be heard. The reason for my punishment is my failure when I was ordered to dance for my Master, the sheik. He was not at all satisfied and by a gesture he ordered me to be punished. He seems very indifferent to my punishment, not taking any notice of me at all. The huge athletic eunuch has just made a pause but he will soon redouble his efforts and strike so hard with the sharp rod that blood flows down my thighs. Another slave girl is checking out that I am strapped as tightly as possible, knowing very well that she herself can be in my position tomorrow. Very soon my screams of pain and the sharp cracks of the rod biting into my defenceless flesh will echoe between the stone walls of the palace.
In the hands of the Inquisition. If I only knew what they want me to confess. I would gladly do it right away to stop the terrible whipping. They keep on asking me questions and every time I come up with the wrong answer another hard lash makes me scream out loud. Yes, the ferocious whip sure makes me dance It seems like this could go on forever. I have lost all points of reference and I have no idea if it is day or night. The merciless whipping continues and the monotonous questions keeps on coming. Will it never end? After today’s interrogation I will as usual be chained up in the dungeon to be raped by all the men witnessing my ordeal, including the torturer.
Whipped in a brothel. I am a prostitute at a high class brothel owned by a wealthy woman with several contacts among the upper classes. I am being punished because a customer has complained to the owner about my services. Two of the other girls hold me while a third, the overseer, whips me hard using a heavy leather whip. Soon she will step back to be able to swing the whip wiuth full force and hurt me even more. This should teach me a lesson: to never ever again say no when a customer orders me to do something. Naturally, I will have to apologize to the customer after the whipping which he oversees and as a compensation, he may use me for free for one whole day. I would never dare to protest again, no matter what he wants to do to me.
Prison whipping. I have been sent to prison because of false accusations by the woman to the right and her man pays the warden to have me punished regularly. They both come to the prison to oversee the punishments and as you can tell by the look of her face, she is really enjoying my suffering. Often she whispers harder… harder… and naturally, the man whipping me obliges. He slashes bloody streaks into my flesh and after a whipping I can neither sit or sleep for several days. Fresh rods are lying on the chair, awaiting to be used. Little does the noble lady know that her man regularly comes to my prison cell to take advantage of my defenceless body, forcing me to do everything his wife refuses to do.
Whipped in the prison yard. Oh God, this is one of the most wonderful images I have ever seen! Since I discovered it, I have been mesmerized by it and I simply cannot lay my eyes upon it without starting to masturbate. There are so many exciting elements within this picture. First, naturally, the overall scene: the huge athletic brute of a man wielding the whip. The whipping bench which holds my body in position for the cruel whipping of my bottom and thighs. The man at the extreme left is a wardour and his wife stands beside him. You can imagine that he will take advantage of me as much as he can when we are alone in my cell. Please also take note of the woman studying me through her lorgnette. She seems very interested in seeing in detail what effect the whipping will have on my poor flesh. The stern looking man standing with both hands on his walking stick right in front of me is the judge who has sentenced me and he regularly witness all my whippings to ensure that they are carried out with maximum severity. He will not be disappointed. Naturally, I will be abused by him and many other men in my cell when I come to after the extreme whipping.
A severe public flogging. I am embracing the whipping post and my desperate screams and pleas for mercy adds to the entertainment of the crowd in the town square. The man with the robe is counting out the lashes and also urges the torturer to whip me harder all the time. As you can se by the bulge on the trousers of the whipmaster he is very much looking forward to be alone with me when the punishment is over and I have been dragged back to my cell. I was lead by a chain barefoot through the streets from the prison to the town square, with a heavy iron collar around my neck. When I have finally received the 250 lashes from the whip and the 250 strokes of the birch rod, I am so weak that I am totally unable to walk and have to be half carried, half dragged back to the prison.
Do you know of other pics like these? Please let me know.
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