I do love the overly dramatic at times. Nothing wrong with subtleties but I do love the dramatic, the over the top at times. Today I have returned to an old favourite. I have already blogged about this kind of scene. I can't but be a little carried away by the brutality of it. This is a kind of scene that you on the one hand may find too brutal but on the other can find quite exciting, depending on the mood you are in. At least that is how my mind works.
My body was trembling as I stepped out onto the platform and saw the sea of people around me. I heard the roar as the crowd spotted me. The screamed at me, they yelled at me, they waved and pointed at me. They didn't hate me. They wanted to see me. They were there for me. They had come to see me. They wanted to see me be punished. They didn't hate me but they loved seeing me being punished.
I felt powerless, weak and almost fainting as I saw him, the man. He was standing on the platform, waiting for me. The crowd had come for me but he was the king of this dais. He was the ruler.
He was strong, he was powerful, dressed in black boots, tight fitting trouser, a broad belt and a black mask. He was in disguise while I was not. He was the king and I was his subject. I stared at his naked chest, glistening and gleaming in the sun. I stared at his muscles, at his strength, the power in those muscles. I looked at him and saw that hideous strength that would subdue me, that would punish me. My knees were weak.
The devil of a man smiled as the guards took me to the centre of the platform and stood me in front of the pole, the pole the shamelessly pointed to the sky, the rough and rugged pole, the pole where I would be bound for my punishment.
The guards didn't waste any time. They started pulling at my clothes, ripping the fabric, yanking my dress from my shoulders, stripping me, baring me before the eyes of the hungry crowd. They stared at me and roared and cried out as my dress was torn from my shoulders, slid from my hips, leaving me naked before their eyes.
This was what they had come to see. They screamed as my body was bared before them and I shivered and held my breath as I became naked. I knew they could see me, I knew they beheld my body. Every movement, every breath I took was there for them to see. I was naked.
'Embrace your lover!' was the words I heard from the man. I saw a smile on his face and for a second I was comforted by that smile but soon my heart started pounding again, pounding with fear and anticipation.
My body was trembling as I stretched my arms out. The guards took them, pulled me forward, pressed my body against the dreaded pole, one arm on each side of the pole. My hands were tied, lashed together and then I was hoisted in the air. My arms stretched, my body tensed as I was pressed against the pole, its harsh surface scratching the softness of my breasts and belly, the smooth skin on my thighs and legs. My feet barely touched the ground. I was ready for my punishment.
The devil walked round the platform. I heard the creaking of the boards of the platform as he moved his heavy and powerful body. The crowd greeted him, they cheered him as he walk around the platform. He was the conductor, he was the ruler. He was the entertainer. He was the ruler and I was the ruled.
He held his whip so that I could see it and my heart stopped beating. I saw the strands of the whip, the knots, the leather that would soon touch me. My mind didn't want to understand that this was the poisonous snake that would be taken to my body, that would bite me and lash me. I almost fainted.
I waited. I knew that my punishment was coming. The crowd waited. They fell silent. They wanted this. They wanted to see the lash hit my tender skin, see my body tremble and move under its dance. They wanted to see hard and brutal against soft and vulnerable. That was their desire, that was their wish. I waited and held my breath.
The man waited. He wanted this moment. He wanted me to have this moment, the moment of waiting. The moment of fear, the moment of surrender.
I wasn't prepared for the sound, the hissing sound. And then the loud crack, the brutal and merciless crack of leather against skin. Then there was the pain, the excruciating pain that flowed through my body. The pain that was beyond belief, a pain that took me over, the hideous power of the lash that penetrated my soul and left me helpless.
Fear was meaningless. There was no arguments, no pleading, no thinking that could change what happened. The whip bit my skin and there was nothing else. I was crushed. There was only me and the lashes. I could go nowhere, I could do nothing. I could do nothing but scream and cry. And feel the brutal lashes hit my body. I was being punished.
Then it was over. I had been punished. I heard the crowd again. They were still screaming. My whipping was over. I hung in my bonds, my body limp, sweat covering my body, fire in my skin. I was defeated and helpless.
Then I felt the man, the devil, behind me, close behind me. He leaned forward and whispered in my ear.
'Girl, you are mine now.'
I knew he was right. He had defeated me and I was his, truly his. I belonged to him now. And I got it in my head that I had wanted this.