Chill
A morning breeze chilled the ranks of galley slaves on the un-sheltered open deck of Gallo's galley.
Tala felt her bare skin pimple and her ruby nipples harden as she woke from sleeping slumped over the great oak oar.
Cool , now she thought but later when the sun beat down on her and her companions she'd boil and sweat as she labored to pull her oar through the sluggish green sea. Then the sharpness of the cool air on her skin would be a delicious memory.
Gallo walked on the narrow deck raised above and between the galley slaves. His eye recorded backs cut by the lash and mentally noted he would have that wench doused with sea water. He couldn't afford a slave to die at the oar today. And anyway the shrieks of a slave as the salt worked into the red weals improved the morale of his crew.
He picked out the barbarian slut he'd purchased at the market. Pale skinned as any new slave would be, he saw how his lashmaster had enjoyed himself on her back driving her to pull the oar faster and harder.
She had the build for the galleys. Wiry, long limbed and small chested. His father had always cautioned against chaining heavy breasted slaves to the oar. It may amuse you to see her tits stretch and sag but that's energy you're losing to the oar. And she'll fail on you faster than a wench who's been broken on the rack, he'd sworn many a time.
But that hadn't stopped him acquiring several prisoners spat out of the Inquisitor's chambers. Having a fine house slave who pocketed their mistresses jewels struggling to pull an oar allowed for many pleasures especially when she was brought to his chamber hot from the oar bench.
The sounding of the trumpet announced the galley was to pull off. A beating of the drum alerted the slaves to be ready to pull their oar. If that wasn't enough as sharp flick of the lash cut into their bent backs made the slaves begin their day's labor.
Tala felt the sting of the lash like the pale red head in front of her. She pulled on the oar and then took the weight of the hard oak to lift and then cut back into the curdled green seawater. As she pulled hard she felt that first stab of pain in her shoulders like she'd been stretched on the rack.
Tala felt her bare skin pimple and her ruby nipples harden as she woke from sleeping slumped over the great oak oar.
Cool , now she thought but later when the sun beat down on her and her companions she'd boil and sweat as she labored to pull her oar through the sluggish green sea. Then the sharpness of the cool air on her skin would be a delicious memory.
Gallo walked on the narrow deck raised above and between the galley slaves. His eye recorded backs cut by the lash and mentally noted he would have that wench doused with sea water. He couldn't afford a slave to die at the oar today. And anyway the shrieks of a slave as the salt worked into the red weals improved the morale of his crew.
He picked out the barbarian slut he'd purchased at the market. Pale skinned as any new slave would be, he saw how his lashmaster had enjoyed himself on her back driving her to pull the oar faster and harder.
She had the build for the galleys. Wiry, long limbed and small chested. His father had always cautioned against chaining heavy breasted slaves to the oar. It may amuse you to see her tits stretch and sag but that's energy you're losing to the oar. And she'll fail on you faster than a wench who's been broken on the rack, he'd sworn many a time.
But that hadn't stopped him acquiring several prisoners spat out of the Inquisitor's chambers. Having a fine house slave who pocketed their mistresses jewels struggling to pull an oar allowed for many pleasures especially when she was brought to his chamber hot from the oar bench.
The sounding of the trumpet announced the galley was to pull off. A beating of the drum alerted the slaves to be ready to pull their oar. If that wasn't enough as sharp flick of the lash cut into their bent backs made the slaves begin their day's labor.
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| The new galley slave knew enough to pull with all her might on the oar to avoid the lash on her back or her chest. Newly stripped and branded she'd soon tan on the unsheltered oar deck of the galley |
Tala felt the sting of the lash like the pale red head in front of her. She pulled on the oar and then took the weight of the hard oak to lift and then cut back into the curdled green seawater. As she pulled hard she felt that first stab of pain in her shoulders like she'd been stretched on the rack.
 |
| The first sting of lash strikes the galley slaves backs as the galley master demands full speed on the oars |
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