Spanking and more spanking

Liz grew impatient quickly, fidgeting against the table after no time at all. Behind her she heard some mechanical sounds and the Mistress saying "alright this is one is open for business." Arse skyward, the uncomfortable pirate braced herself for whatever the cruel woman sounded so pleased about, but nothing happened. She just sat there in silence listening to the footsteps of passersby without an inkling of what was to come. And thusly she was completely startled by the first smack.

A line of dull pain sliced across her arse. Liz grunted around the wooden sphere **** into her mouth. She felt another stinging line of pain as she was struck by what she guessed was a cane. Bucking in frustration did little good, but Liz had to do something. She was an officer; a thrashing like this could be handed out to a lazy sailor but not her. It was a captain's place to give out beatings, not receive them.

For the third slap, she instead yelled "Shite!" It was muffled to incoherence by the wooden gag but was still satisfying. This new strategy made the next two hits bearable, but still frustrating.

After the fifth strike, whoever it was stopped and walked away. Liz was again left alone, this time knowing exactly how **** her round (and it would seem soon to be rosey) cheeks were.

The next punisher at least gave her some warning. Speaking with a west country accent he said "Yarr! look at that fantastic booty. Looks like a booty fine to plunder, says I." His weapon of choice was a kind of cord or whip. She felt four quick cracks while he said "this be teaching you, ye naughty skallywag." Liz responded with what she felt was the polite amount of rude language. And after one last strike he wandered off.

Waiting was equalling irritating to the spankings. For Liz had none to cuss out but could still feel the echoes of pain across her windward stern. Moreover, the exposed woman knew her next bottom bashing could happen without warning.

As she waited, the ridiculous nature of her outfit dawned on the disgruntled woman. She had originally taken it as acceptable and thought it served a doctor related purpose, but that was clearly a charade. It, of course, wasn't even real clothing, just some leather to keep her hands from covering her exposed beauty. The tight strip that at one time covered most of her sex was now twisted by her squirming. At present, it dug sideways into the soft folds of her lady parts while leaving her womanhood to be breeze tickled and sun warmed. What madness thought this was normal? In part, Liz wanted to tear the absurd garment off. Being naked was better than wearing this mockery.

The next guest was clearly female she had soft hands that she used to deliver ten gentle slaps. After each slap she rubbed the pirate's sore cheeks. Liz stayed silent listening to the woman's soothing humming and moaning. While rubbing after the tenth pat the woman's little finger somehow brushed Liz's moistening slit. The woman giggled and said "you seem to be enjoying this as much as me."

Liz denied the truth with a sharp "Nomph!" Infuriatingly, her response just made the woman chuckle.

Over the next hour many individuals spanked Liz's upturned arse with a wide variety of implements. Some silently, most guests rambled with a bizarre accent similar to the second guest. These hooligans spoke often of a prized booty; the pirate guessed she was the treasure they spoke of. A few took opportunities to grope your pleasantly presented posterior between spanking it. One even traced the small anchor tattooed just above her left cheek in a manner tender enough to make the pirate's spine tingle.

There had been a particularly annoying woman. After her first spank from a small wooden paddle Liz had tried to yell out 'piss whore'. The woman, her voice viciously posh, had goaded "My apologies. Are you trying to say 'please more'? You simple must get that knob out of your mouth if you want me to understand you." This had the desired effect, and Liz jerked up against her collar several times while growling a veritable storm of vocal swill. After four more whacks she added "is that it? It appears you are not all that perturbed by your situation." Liz had been encouraged to struggle with renewed effort. Over the final five hits, the woman had managed to goad Liz to buck and twist her torso quite vigorously. The jezebel parted saying "if you want help getting free, you can just ask," and, much to her delight, recieved a furious queue of garbled insults and useless flails.

Despite her denial, a part of Liz did enjoy the spanking. It brought some fond memories of wild, passionate sex, especially when a silent man had smacked her fifteen times with what could have only been his cock. Or it could have been someone else holding it. The image of a woman using her man's tallywaker to spank Liz was certainly appealing to the devious pirate.

The most painful experience was near to the end. There was the sound of footsteps behind her the were drowned out by two blasts from a horn. A man responded with "oh come on, look at her you know she wants it." The horn repeated itself, and the man insisted "a few seconds with my dick in her and she'll beg me to keep it in." The horn replied in exactly the same way it had spoken before, before adding some mechanical clinking. "Fuck! Fine!" the man rabidly snapped back.

He still spanked her though; he used a tyrannical, long and wide paddle, with what felt like metal studs. Liz screamed after the first hit. She felt she would have been sent flying over the table were it not for the leather straps and wooden knob. As it was, they painfully held her fast. The second hit had her accusing the bastard of being birthed from the ooze of the "foulest fireship," by the third a tear trickled down Liz's enraged face. As he beat her, she transitioned from insulting to furiously threatening the ruffian. She wanted to beg him to stop but denied him that satisfaction.

A maelstrom of pain roared through her walloped behind. Liz felt no comfort when the despot paused. Misery filled her aching body and arousal abandoned her loins. She had no idea how long he would continue, how long she would be trapped here to suffer, arse up and thumped. Had a wild life doomed her to an eternity of pain and humiliation?

But before Liz could drown in her self pity, a strange sound floated into her ears. It was a sound of a frustrated panting coming from the villian tanning her backside. His strength was not limitless. More to point, his rage was unsated.

And would never be.

Mischief warmed her blood and renewed the excitement in her nethers. Disobedience was an instinctual desire for rip-roaring rover, and she savored the impotent wraith boiling in the bully. Few things were more flavorful than the diablerie that produced such outrage.

A tittering melody blossomed from her mouth. It was an immature little ditty she would hum when guards proved to not be as nimble as her. She heard the desired result as a scream of agonizing annoyance left the frustrated man's lips.

The fifteenth and final blow was especially brutal. Avoiding the useless crotch strap, metal studs hit her rosebud and tenderest lips. Her tantrum-inducing taunt degraded into a loud scream that caused spittle to spray around the wooden knob, but its effect was indelible. All his strength, and the galoot came up short. An impish delight bejewelled Liz's eye and twisted her mouth as far as her gag allowed as the inadequate gentleman's stomps grew more distant.

The pirate captain felt a might foolish at her willingness to raise white over such a short bum battering. This place, this Valhalla, was indeed full of knaves, and many a time they would get the best of her. But that be the point; like a rough sea of liquid trouble it would be an eternity of exhilaration and opportunity, leagues better than perching on a beige cloud to sip mild tea or whatever the land-loving, knicker-squeamish goody-goods had been so damned to. Glowing with the prospective thrill of new challenges, Liz gleefully accepted the next few tush thrashings.

And only a few there were. For after an aristocratic gentlemen used a ridding crop to "teach her manners," she heard a familiar tap behind her. 'Twas the unmistakable sound of The Mistress's high heeled boots. Liz didn't know weather to feel relieved or worried.