‘I would my crew had more of your mettle, woman,’ said the Captain, his lips now close to hers. ‘But you know I can’t let this pass.’
‘What are you going to do to me?’ she asked.
‘Preece,’ said the Captain in reply. ‘The bag.’
Preece stepped forward and handed the sack to the Captain.
He released Trix from his grasp, taking care to remove her sword first and put it beyond reach, and stepped back beside his desk.
‘The pair of you,’ he ordered. ‘Get those petticoats off.’
Trix and her friend made big, frightened eyes at each other, but both untied their drawstrings and let the cotton skirts fall to their feet, revealing linen knickerbockers and white silk stockings.
‘Do you mean to deprive us of our honour?’ asked Trix’s friend.
‘No, at least, not yet,’ replied the Captain uncompromisingly. ‘But I mean to deprive you of your dignity, and your rebellious spirit. Over the desk with you both.’
There could be but few purposes for a stance of this nature, and the wenches seemed to realise this, giving each other panicky glances and standing rooted where they were.
The Captain clarified matters by drawing a pair of floggers from the sack and passing one to Preece. He ran his fingers through the leather strands of the other.
‘You mean to flog us?’ blurted Trix.
‘I think I do. Now didn’t I give an order? Or will you add to what you’re about to get?’
They scurried over to the desk and arranged themselves as required, elbows on the wooden surface, backs low, bums out. The linen drawers were slit from the crotch upwards and they slid apart like curtains, revealing two round plump bare bottoms, ready for whipping.
Trix put her hand over her friend’s in support and they wound their fingers tightly together, both gritting teeth ready for the ordeal. Another camera picked up their faces and the scene cut from their agonised expressions to the rear view for the rest of the film.
The Captain and Preece commenced the flogging with slow, steady strokes. It was a little odd, perhaps even a little uncomfo
rtable, to watch Trix taking her punishment while she sat so close to us. She certainly had a lovely arse for it, though, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her trembling hips and slowly reddening buttocks as the Captain took his time to make sure she felt every ounce of sting.
For someone as seasoned as Trix, though, a flogging with a little leather thing like that would be nothing special.
‘She hasn’t even made a squeak yet,’ said the Captain in disgust. ‘Preece – the straps.’
Preece reached inside the bag and brought out two sturdy lengths of thick leather.
The strapping was quicker and harder than the flogging, the implements making very satisfying cracking sounds as they landed on the unfortunate bottoms. Trix’s friend was soon in difficulties, squirming and moaning as Preece laid on the strokes. The Captain worked Trix more vigorously still, but she gritted her teeth and kept silent, implying that it was a matter of pride not to show weakness.
Their behinds and upper thighs were soon a deep sunset red.
Tears were visible in the other woman’s eyes and they rolled down her cheeks while she gasped and pleaded for mercy.
The Captain laid his strap aside, the signal for Preece to do the same.
‘She’s had enough,’ he said to Preece. ‘Put her in the corner with her hands on her head – but facing out. I want her to watch what her friend still has to come.’
There was the faintest of mewls from Trix, suggesting that this was not a popular plan, but she said no more, concentrating on regaining her breath while her friend was removed from the scene of the ongoing punishment.
‘Now, my lady,’ said the Captain ominously. ‘What will it take to break you, I wonder?’
‘Do your worst,’ muttered Trix, and the Captain laughed.
‘Ah, that I certainly shall. Let’s see …’
He upended the sack, and a flat wooden paddle fell out on to the desk.