Aurelie rows

Aurelie had had enough. She gripped the handle that ran along her oar and pulled on it. Somehow she was not doing it right as the whip landed hard again on her unprotected skin. The whipmaster barked orders to improve her movement and posture, punctuating them with brutal lashes. He continued to do so until Aurelie was doing it right. Being a smart, highly motivated girl, she learned quickly. She did her best to imitate the slaves in the row in front of her and any mistake was quickly extirpated by the severity of the whipmaster. In five minutes she had acquired the technique and only wanted more muscle. By that time however, her back was covered in blood, criss-crossed with welts and her nether holes felt as though they had been turned into hashed meat.

The correct cycle involved bracing her bare soles on the footrest in front of her her, clenching her hands on the handle, then pulling on it as hard as she could. Doing so, she had to bend her upper body backward and stand on the footrest. All the muscles in her body bulged in the effort. She had to rise her butt from the bench until the chain stopped her. The two dildos moved halfway out of her holes, their ridges making sure that every nerve felt the excruciating movement. Once she had reached the end of the arc, she had to push the roar for the return move. This made her sit back on the bench and impale herself onto the two huge invaders. This brought an entirely new meaning to the term "fuck yourself".

Whenever she was too slow, or failed to follow the rhythm of the other rowers, she was severely whipped. The pain those lashes caused was so sharp, so strong, that they were enough to make her ignore the pain in her crotch, ignore the cramps in her muscles. She did not think anymore, she had no future, no expectation. All she wanted was to perform the perfect pull and push so that she would not be lashed again.