Baroness Whipped For Cheating At Cards
Here’s an old bit of fiction from Taboo Tales [link broken and removed] about a baroness who earns a whipping for cheating at cards:
The two Russian giants, who had been standing impassive at the further end of the hall, came forward. At a sign from the prince they advanced toward Baroness Rubinstein. They seized her by the arms. The Baroness, who to the last had not believed that the prince would dare to carry out his threat, and supposed that the men were about to open the door for her, uttered a piercing shriek. Her frantic struggles availed nothing against the two big Russians. They dragged the baroness, screaming, tripping over her train, to the centre of the room, on to the raised platform. While one man held her, the other undid the bodice of her gown and disengaged her arms and shoulders. They made fast her wrists to the ends of ropes which hung from rings in the ceiling. Baroness Rubinstein, with her hands hitched above her head, showing black armpits, gasped and choked, her eyes starting out of her head.
Accustomed to their tasks, Gheorghii and his assistant handled with stolid unconcern the billowing satin and silk, the cascading lace and lawn, detaching the creaking brocade, the hems of pearl-colored hose. They flattered their master’s eye with the spectacle of the luxurious disorder, heedless of the futile struggles of the raving woman, frenzied with outraged pudicity. Expertly they uncorseted her. She writhed, her dark-circled breasts staring like bulging eyes from the collapsing folds, as the men disrobed her. They stripped her completely.
While they cleared aside the heap of draperies, Baroness Rubinstein remained tethered under the intolerable gaze of avid eyes. On the white sleekness of her full-fleshed oriental nudity, stained with orbs of swarth and black contrasts, diamonds sparkled in the glare of the lights, and ropes of pearl dangled.
…
Gheorgii returned bearing a short-handled whip. The baroness watched him over her shoulder with terrified eyes. The Cossack raised his arm and, with a sharp crack, the lash came down across her buttocks. She gave a strident yell. Her flesh quivered from head to foot. Again and again the lash fell on the full flesh, the big thighs. She sprang from one foot to the other, her belly heaving, her breasts dancing.
Julian closed his eyes. The screams of the victim echoed under the low vault.
“Look!” he heard Tëa whisper at his side.
A horrible fascination compelled him. He gazed, spellbound, as in a dream. The woman was throwing her nude body about, from one side of the platform to the other, straining at the tethering ropes in desperate efforts to draw away.
