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"Domina, please!" Valka cries as her tunic is stripped from her body and her wrists shackled above her head to the rectangular wooden frame. "It wasn't me, it wasn't my fault!" While she screams, her legs are grabbed as well and her ankles tied to the corners of the frame, leaving her legs spread uncomfortably wide.
Livia, her mistress, sighs and leans back in her Accubitum—the kind of elongated, lavishly cushioned bench that looks more like a bed to Valka's eyes. Just another example of how frivolous and pampered these people are—on the surface, at least. Because once you peel away the silks and fragrant oils, the glimmering architecture and the poetry and music, you see the violent monster that hides beneath it all.
"Stupid girl," Livia says and gives Valka an unimpressed look, arranging the folds of her stola more comfortably around her legs. "You just made me the laughingstock of the whole city. They will be talking about this for months. Of course you will be punished for your insolence."
Valka opens her mouth to protest, but Livia is already turning her attention to the trio of muscular, bare-chested Punitores. Two men, with one hard-eyed woman with them, each one more terrifying than the last with their thick, sinewy arms and sinister smiles. They're wearing their peculiar uniforms made entirely of black leather, making them stand out from the regular citizens like ravens in a flock of pigeons.
Already people are gathering around the small canopy where the Punitores have set up their shop–-the Punitorium. It's a simple one, with the wooden frame where the slaves are meant to be bound standing in the middle, and some chairs and Accubita set in a half-circle around it, allowing the masters to observe the punishment while the Punitores's own slaves serve wine and other refreshments to them. At least this Punitorium provides some shade for the slaves: in most places, they wouldn't be so merciful.
"Should we start, Domina?" one Punitor asks in a politely deferential tone, gesturing at Valka. "You haven't brought this one to us before—how do you wish for us to proceed?"
"Hmm, the usual, I think," Livia muses, squinting at Valka thoughtfully. Then her eyes drop to Valka's naked hips—no, to what lies between them—and a slow, heated smile spreads on her face and makes her eyes crinkle. "Or perhaps… Do you remember Aninka?"
"The small, loud one? Very well indeed," the Punitor smirks. "She was a delight. Do you wish something similar for her?"
While they're negotiating, Valka is looking around desperately, trying to plead with her eyes for someone, anyone to free her. Not a single person makes a move to help her, of course: the crowd of people just keeps whispering to each other excitedly and giving her sly, knowing smiles. Such is not the way of these Imperial people: everyone here sees her as nothing more than property, a filthy barbarian at best. Curious, how they will call Valka's people barbarians while committing such atrocities without a second thought.
"Yes, that would be perfect. Don't go too hard on her, mind you, she needs to be able to walk back, but other than that…" Livia shrugs nonchalantly and examines the cup of wine in her hand before glancing up through her eyelashes to give the Punitor another slow smile. "Have fun."
"Oh, we will," the Punitor chuckles, turning to Valka. "Thank you, Domina."
***
The flogger falls over Valka's shoulder with a thud, making her cry out. Her whole back is already throbbing with heat, her ass too—even her breasts have been thoroughly whipped, and her pale skin is painted bright crimson wherever the strikes have landed. The two male Punitors are working together, each one wielding a flogger made of thick strips of black leather: as soon as one hit falls, the other man is already raising his flogger, giving Valka no respite between the strikes. She keeps writhing and screaming, struggling uselessly in her restraints, trying in vain to dodge the floggers as they fly towards her. Of course she has been whipped before—these people love to have their slaves cruelly punished for the smallest of infractions—but it has never been like this: out in the open, with no less than two people whipping her at the same time, while a crowd of strangers watch, their eyes gleaming with hunger and glee.
Livia is lounging in her Accubitum and watching in unusual silence: only the noticeably rapid rise and fall of her chest and the heavy-lidded, heated look in her eyes betray her mood. When a particularly hard strike falls over Valka's ass, Livia's lips part around a small, soundless gasp. The cup of wine dangles from her fingers, forgotten, and though one of the other slaves tries to offer her a plate of freshly cut fruit, she doesn't seem to even see him there, kneeling at her feet.
"Aren't you going easy on her?" says the Punitora out of the blue. Her voice is surprisingly deep and raspy, with a strange accent Valka can't place. Like Livia, she's watching the proceedings from the sidelines: unlike Livia, she's standing straight like a soldier, arms crossed over her chest and framing her small breasts. She doesn't seem to care about her state of partial nudity, nor does it have any effect on her intimidating presence. Her face remains impassive and unreadable, but her eyes haven't strayed from Valka even once. Every time Valka happens to look over and meets the woman's intense gaze by accident, she flinches from the sheer force of it.
"Patience, woman!" huffs the Punitor currently in front of Valka and raises his flogger again. "We need to warm her up before we let you loose." He brings the flogger down in a move that somehow catches both of Valka's nipples at the same time, the tassels snapping over the tender nubs. Valka cries out, shaking with the flash of pain and heat that travels down her spine, pooling in the hidden spot between her legs. If the Punitora calls this going easy on her, what exactly is she planning? It's a small mercy that Valka doesn't have time to dwell on it, too busy flinching and screaming under the ceaseless back and forth of the two floggers dancing over her body. The pattern is just unpredictable enough that Valka can't even brace for the strikes before they're already landing, the next one right on the heels of the last: her back, her breasts, her ass, her back again.
Just when Valka thinks they're going to whip the skin off her back, there's a subtle shift in the tension between the men, something wordless passing in the looks they exchange. They pause for a short moment, just enough to give Valka an opportunity to draw the first full breath in what feels like hours—only to immediately lose it in a strangled shout as the flogger lands with a thud, right between her legs.
The crowd cheers. "That's more like it!" someone yells over the wolf-whistles and laughter. "Make the bitch scream!"
At first, the pain doesn't even register as such: it's more like pressure, wrapping around her whole being—something so intense that her body is having trouble parsing it. The Punitors are going slower than before, no longer keeping up that relentless, fast pace, but it also means that Valka is left anticipating every strike with her heart in her throat, dizzy with terror. One of the Punitors stands behind her, the other facing her, and together they manage to catch every inch of skin between Valka's legs with their floggers. The soft folds of her labia, the fragile skin of her inner thighs, the underside of her ass: no part of her goes untouched. Only her clit stays relatively unharmed, hidden between the swollen, flushed folds of her cunt, and for that she is grateful. She can't even imagine what it would feel like if—
"That's enough," the Punitora says suddenly, taking a step closer. "I will take it from here." The men obey her without delay, and it dawns on Valka that the chain of command with the Punitores might be more complex than she had assumed. The woman isn't just a third wheel in their operation: she's more important than that. She walks aroud Valka in a slow circle, running her right hand idly over her flushed skin, pausing to tweak a nipple between her fingers and smiling crookedly at the squeak that Valka lets out at the flash of pain. Crookedly, because there's a small scar on the corner of her mouth, the skin on that side too taut and stiff to be as expressive.
"You northerners flush so prettily," the Punitora murmurs, too softly for anyone but Valka to hear, and tightens her fingers around her other nipple. "I wonder if you'll squeal just as prettily for me. Why won't we find out?"
"Ah, p-please," Valka gasps, shuddering under the woman's gaze. Her nipples, which were already so tender from the whipping, are cruelly pinched and twisted, again and again, and the sensation echoes in her clit, like there's a string connecting the three points: like she's an instrument that the Punitora is lazily plucking, seeing what sounds come out.
"No use begging me for mercy," the Punitora says softly, still smiling that crooked smile. "I'm just doing my job."
With one last pull she leaves Valka's nipples alone and continues her slow stroll, disappearing behind her. Valka's skin crawls with awareness, like there was a dangerous beast looming right behind her back, and her instincts scream at her to look, but she can't move: her body is frozen still with fear. She's staring straight ahead, panting and trembling, her pulse thundering in her ears. From the corner of her eye, she can see her mistress, still lounging on the Accubitum as indolently as before—though something is different about her yellow-clad figure: some subtle difference in her posture. Valka blinks tears and sweat from her eyes, squinting as she tries to focus her blurry eyes.
Just when she makes out the shape of Livia's hand moving slowly between her legs, her vision goes white.
Pain, brighter and sharper than anything she's ever felt before, biting a narrow line over the tender skin of her ass, then another right over it, layer after layer of pure agony painted over her skin and creating a throbbing web of fire. Now Valka sees that the floggers were almost pleasant compared to this: whatever tool the Punitora is using, it feels like it cuts right through Valka's flesh, to the bone—though it can't be anything that's actually harming her, didn't Livia say that they shouldn't hit her too hard? Surely they wouldn't dare disobey?
The Punitora pauses to brush her fingertips gently down Valka's back and over the welts that have already raised on her ass—then up again, except now she's scraping her nails rght over the welts, hard, making Valka squeal like a pig as a fresh wave of agony rushes through her body.
"What's the matter, slave?" the Punitora purrs and sinks her hand into the tangled, sweaty locks of Valka's hair. "Never been caned before? I find that hard to believe." As she speaks, she jerks Valka's head back, forcing her to arch her back and push her chest out, to the general delight of the watching crowd of people. Valka can't pay any mind to the onlookers, however, because right then something slides between her legs, a narrow, wooden stick—the cane. The Punitora gives a teasing little tap to Valka's cunt with it, just a light nudge that she can hardly even feel, but it still makes her flinch violently, the implied violence too much for her to even imagine.
"G-gods, please, no," Valka gasps, her tongue so thick in her mouth that she can barely form the words. "No, not there, please—"
"What do you say, Domina?" the Punitora inquires, aiming the words at Livia. Even as she speaks, she's giving another tap to Valka's cunt, right over the tip of her clit which is shyly peeking from between her folds. "Would it please you?"
"I…" Livia begins, then stops to clear her throat. Her voice is almost unrecognizable, throaty and breathless, as she continues: "Yes, very much. It's… exactly what the little cunt deserves."
"Very well," the Punitora murmurs and releases her grip on Valka's hair, taking a step back and the heat of her body with it. For a moment Valka feels unmoored, like she's floating somewhere, weightless: only the restraints around her wrists keep her body upright, and though she can feel her shoulders start to ache from the strain, that particular shade of pain is meaningless.
"Hit her already!" yells someone from the back of the crowd, and the others join in eagerly.
"Hit her!"
"Whip that cunt!"
Valka's chest heaves with a sob. The mocking laughter cuts almost as deep as the pain all over her body. Even before she was brough to this land as a slave, she had been aware of the cruel ways of the imperials, but she had never imagined something like this. She had expected to be beaten up, possibly even raped, but this: to be tied up in the middle of the marketplace, completely naked, with a massive crowd of people watching eagerly as she gets tortured and humiliated… This is like being plunged into a nightmare, into Hell—except instead of a desolate void full of distant sobs and sighs, this Hell is bright and sunny: and the evil spirits that dwell here are dressed lavishly in silks, drinking fragrant wine and laughing while they watch Valka scream and writhe.
"Please," she tries again, uselessly—but then her voice shatters into a hoarse scream.
The cane hits her squarely on her clit, and it's no longer a light, barely-there tap. The narrow length of wood lands with a firm thwack, and the burst of pain that explodes in Valka's nerve endings is so immense that she doesn't even feel the full impact until a moment later, when it's reverberating through the rest of her body. Before she has time to recover, the cane lands again, and again, unerringly locating the small nub of her clitoris every single time. She can feel her mouth hanging open around the mindless shrieks that tear their way through her throat, but whatever is happening to the rest of her body is utterly meaningless: her whole being is centered around her clit, which is jumping and spasming uncontrollably under the relentless barrage of pure agony.
"That's it," the Punitora growls. "Sing for me, slave! Louder now!"
The cane dances over Valka's clit, which is now so swollen that it can no longer stay hidden between her folds. There's nothing protecting it from the Punitora's cruelty: not Valka's own body, not the mercy of her mistress, and certainly not any sense of dignity, which seems to be a concept totally unfamiliar to these people.
The Punitora pauses—only to shove her hand between Valka's legs, rubbing her fingers roughly over her throbbing clit and swollen, wet folds. Valka lets out a wordless bleat of agony, shaking her head wildly as the Punitora hums and thrusts her fingers straight into her cunt, dragging over her walls and making Valka shudder with another wave of pain and heat.
"I knew it," the woman hisses into Valka's ear, again so softly that nobody else can hear it. "You northern beasts—all you need is a firm hand, isn't that right? Just look how wet you are already." Another rough thrust underlines her words and makes Valka's cunt clench painfully around the invading digits.
"N-no," Valka whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head again. "I'm, I'm not—"
"Aren't you," the other woman laughs darkly. "Nice try, but your pussy can't lie to me. Shall we continue?"
"No, no no no please—aaahh!"
It's even worse now, after the small break: now Valka's clit is engorged with blood and all the more sensitive. At least this time the Punitora isn't focusing entirely on her clit, but it's not the relief that it should be, because now the rest of her cunt is getting the same treatment as her poor, abused cunt. There's something almost methodical about the way the hits land, spreading the pain evenly over her whole mound, her labia, her clit, even the exquisitely tender skin around her asshole: no part of her is spared.
Another short pause: another exploratory sweep of the Punitora's fingers, first sinking into Valka's hole, then coming back up and using her own slick to rub two fingertips over her aching clit, making her sob and shake uncontrollably. The sensation sinks into her abdomen, into her spine, where it continues to throb in time with her heartbeat, echoing in her nipples too. The Punitora laughs again and lets her fingers slide away: then she's circling around to stand face to face with Valka. She puts a finger under Valka's chin and gently urges her to raise her head: and when she does, she flinches violently from the cruel light in the other woman's eyes.
"What a treasure you are! I could play with you for hours," the Punitora murmurs, her voice fading into a sigh, something almost plaintive in her tone. "But unfortunately…" She shakes her head and sighs again. Then her eyes drop down, finally releasing Valka from their hold, and another crooked smile spreads on her lips.
She doesn't say anything, just rolls her thumb in a circle over Valka's clit. Valka mewls as another throb of pleasure-pain goes through her swollen flesh, turning her mind hazy—because there's no denying it anymore: though her body burns with unbearable agony, there's pleasure too, hidden under the layers of pain, and when the Punitora keeps playing with her clit like that, it becomes harder and harder to ignore it. It's an angry, burning kind of sensation, something that barely even deserves to be called pleasure, but it's undeniably there.
Valka hears a soft sound from the direction of the Accubitum and looks over, and the sight that greets her nearly makes her retch. Livia is almost entirely horizontal by now, with only a single pillow holding her head up so that she can keep watching Valka. The hemline of her stola has been pushed up to reveal her crotch for a lithe, scantily-clad slave, allowing him to sink his face between her legs and lick into her cunt. Livia has one arm thrown behind her head, gripping the pillows with one hand, the slave's oiled curls with the other. Her mouth is open and panting, and though she tries to keep her gaze fixed on Valka's naked, abused body, her eyelids are already fluttering with her imminent release.
"What do you say, Domina?" the Punitora says, raising her voice slightly in order to be heard over the raucous cheering of the crowd. "Should I keep whipping her pussy? Or should I punish it… in a special way?"
"A-ah," Livia moans and blinks her eyes open. "Oh, ungh… do as you like. Just, just make her scream—oh, right there, yes!" She throws her head back and tightens her grip in the slave's hair, shuddering with pleasure as the young man keeps going obediently. Valka averts her eyes, despair and rage making them well up with tears at the injustice: that her mistress is being pleasured so skillfully while Valka's own cunt throbs with fierce agony. Her clit must be swollen to at least twice the size it used to be, and the pain has sunk so deep into her flesh that it seems permanently burned into the pathways of her nerves.
The Punitora's eyes narrow with amusement. "Looks like your Domina is getting distracted," she murmurs. "That's fine with me. She did tell me to have fun."
***
"Aah, no! Please!" Valka shrieks as her cunt is forced to split open again. "It hurts, ah, aah—"
Her desperate, bleating cries have no effect on the Punitora. She just grunts and tightens her grip on Valka's hips to keep her hands from slipping on the sweaty, flushed skin—then keeps pushing the huge, hard phallus deeper into Valka's aching hole. Just seeing it had nearly made Valka faint with terror: the huge, curved shape that stood between the Punitora's hips, kept in place by a sturdy leather harness. There was no mistaking its purpose, the shape was just too obvious, but the sheer size of it had seemed ludicrous, like it was fashioned after Priapus himself. There was just no way that it was going to fit into Valka's body.
And yet, here they are, the phallus already sunk halfway into Valka's slick cunt and inexorably sinking even deeper. Not only is the angle unbearably painful—with the Punitora pushing into Valka from behind as she stands there with her legs spread and her wrists still shackled above her head—it also grants everyone a full view of her suffering. Some of the onlookers are even crouching down, to see from a better angle just how the phallus is sinking into Valka's hole.
"But you're taking it so well," the Punitora says in a low, throaty voice, massaging Valka's hips. "So well." She pulls her hips back in a slow, measured move, letting the phallus slide out from Valka's fluttering hole. One of her hands drifts around Valka's body, to clumsily massage her aching clit: the other slides up to fondle her tits. Valka can't help but moan when the woman's fingernails scratch lightly over the overheated skin of her tits, and again when they tighten around her nipple. The sensation goes directly to her clit, impossible, burning kind of pleasure pushing through the ache in her flesh. It fills her stomach with heat, pushing up her spine before spilling over the rest of her body, making her sob and writhe.
Before long, her hips are moving on their own, and she finds herself rubbing her clit against the Punitora's fingers with mindless, animalistic desperation. The heat and pressure between her legs grows, burning through her body and the last remnants of her self-control—and with a nauseating jolt of horror she realizes that she's going to come, just like that: impaled on a huge, hard phallus, her mistress and a large crowd of strangers watching and waiting with raucous, gleeful anticipation for her to come apart.
But right before it's allowed to happen—right when Valka is about to fall over that precipice—the Punitora's fingers slip away, wrapping around her waist instead. Valka mewls pitifully with the loss, but the fingers don't come back, no matter how much she writhes and pleads wordlessly. Instead, the Punitora tightens her grip around Valka's waist, then carefully adjusts the angle of her own hips—and finally begins to fuck Valka, holding absolutely nothing back. She's moving the phallus with such brutal, punishing force that it rivals the strength of wild stallions, splitting Valka open over and over again.
It burns, the stretch of it just too immense—but it feels good too, the head of the phallus brushing over something inside Valka that makes her whole body light up with pleasure. She lets out another choked scream, shaking her head desperately, because it's too much—her mind is starting to fracture. Every violent stab of pleasure makes her whole body tingle, from her swollen cunt to her flushed, tearstained face: her limbs keep jerking uncontrollably, her aching clit jumping up and down as it desperately chases after the denied climax.
The people around them are still hollering something, but the voices are just garbled nonsense, utterly meaningless. Valka's whole being is centered around her aching hole and the phallus pummeling her insides. She can no longer keep her eyes open either, the rush of sensation forcing her to squeeze them shut—which is why she doesn't see the Punitor approaching her before it's too late. The excited shouts of the crowd are her only warning, and her eyes fly open, a scream forming on her lips—
Thwack, the flogger comes down, hitting her cunt, just when the Punitora pushes in. Valka shrieks and trembles under the assault, the burst of pain over her clit intertwining with the explosive rush of pleasure inside her, and before she has recovered from it—if such a thing is even possible—the flogger hits her again, and again, steadily going over that same spot in time with the Punitora's thrusts. Pain and heat and pleasure soon cover every inch of her cunt, until she can no longer tell them apart: her inner muscles ache when she clenches spasmodically around the phallus, and it hurts so much, but she can't help but keep pushing her body back, taking more of the stiff length within her, letting it rub over that impossibly tender spot.
And finally it's too much: the flogger snaps over her clit right when the phallus makes another pass over that spot, and the climax hits her with explosive force, making her eyes roll back in her head and every muscle in her body going taut. On and on it goes, her whole being burning with the flashes of pleasure that dance through her overwhelmed nerve endings, as the Punitores keep whipping and fucking her through it all, giving her no respite from the pain and pleasure: keep pushing her, until she comes again, and finally her limbs collapse under her and her mind goes blank.
***
"For pity's sake," huffs Livia, looking disdainfully at Valka as she lies there, weak and insensate, still twitching with the aftershocks. She's no longer bound, but she's showing no signs of moving anytime soon. "I told you not to ruin her completely. How are we supposed to get back to my estate?"
"I'm very sorry, Domina," the Punitora says, bowing deeply. "The mistake was mine. Please, let us make it up to you somehow."
"Well," Livia sniffs and adjusts her stola, brushing some imagined piece of lint away. Then she looks up, and something devious flashes in her eyes. "You can start by hiring a carriage for us. But after that… I might have a proposition for you."
The Punitora takes in her slightly flushed face and studiously blank expression, and offers a slow, heated smile of her own. "Whatever Domina needs… we are at your service."