Aurélie admires the oar slaves

Aurélie made a face as the Whip master opened the door and a waft of strong smell hit her nose. At first she could not see anything in the dim light but soon her eyes grew accustomed to the relative darkness and she saw the ranks of naked slaves chained to their oars and mercilessly whipped. At first she was shocked by the sight and she almost voiced her concern for the poor girls who were toiling in such inhuman conditions. Then she remembered they were all volunteers, who had chosen this fate. They had to be masochists, or maybe there was some unseen advantage for galley slaves. Maybe their yearly fees were forfeited, or they might even earn some money.

Whatever it was, everybody here was playing his or her role perfectly she was not going to break the spell by some anachronistic protest or concern, even if it seemed a bit strange to have female rowers. Instead, she placed herself in the mindset of a galley officer of the 17th century.

"Congratulation, mate. I see you are driving those bitch as they deserve! I'm sure Captain Stone trust you to get all the speed he needs from that scum when he orders it."

She paced down the rows, amazed by how the slaves looked, how tired, filthy and scared they were, how brutally they were beaten by the crewmen. She could not suppress winces when the leather lanyards landed on their unprotected breasts. And those piercings. They were so ugly, so heavy. Some of the girls were covered in them.

Aurélie briefly sat on the stool the Whipmaster offered her but almost immediately she stood up. She wanted to experience this amazing reenactment more directly. She turned to the man, a wicked grin on her face.

"Would you mind if I tried the whip on one of those lazy cunts. I saw one in the back who was obviously slowing down her whole row."