Hanna had been a slave her entire life: It was all that she knew. She was the product of the white Master taking advantage of her ebony mother nineteen years ago and her light brown skin and light brown eyes made it obvious to everyone on the plantation who her daddy was. Her physical traits did not make her a complete pariah amongst the other slaves, but it did not help. On the flip side, the fact that she was obviously the offspring of a white man did come with some advantages. One such advantage was that she became a house slave at the age of fifteen which kept her out of the hot sun picking cotton ten hours a day, six days a week.
Punishments for breaking the rules on the plantation ranged from extremely uncomfortable to downright brutal. Being an attractive, light skinned slave had several times saved Hanna from punishment, but it seemed as if her luck had finally run out.
Hanna now found herself stripped down to her undergarments, nude from the waist up, kneeling on the dirt floor in one of the several bungalows used to imprison disobedient slaves. Her hands were cuffed behind her back and her bare feet were shackled closely together. The sets of restraints were connected with a short, six-inch chain which created a version of a hogtie, but Hanna was able to adjust her position from kneeling to lying down but it was not easy. Her ample breasts made the task a bit more difficult.
The heat in the tin-roofed bungalow was the worst part of Hanna's confinement, which was of course by design. She began to sweat profusely after just ten minutes in the hotbox and she was extremely uncomfortable. The time increments between switching positions from kneeling to lying on her side or stomach became increasingly less as Hanna swapped one discomfort with another. Dirt that was slightly darker than her sweaty, mocha skin was accumulating as she rolled around on the floor and soon she was splattered in crusty mud.
Hanna had been overtly breaking a certain rule in the house for several weeks, with no repercussions until now. William was the son of the Master whom Hanna was rather fond of, and openly flirting with him had finally caught up with her. William himself had a thing for the sexy slave and rather enjoyed Hanna's antics; getting caught making out with her was nothing he had ever wished to have happen.
But here we are: Hanna suffering through her punishment and William forbidden to so much as be in the same vicinity of Hanna.
The pretty slave had been squirming around for several hours before the door to the bungalow opened and an overseer stepped inside. "You look like a mess, Hanna," he said. Being a house slave meant that most of the white workers at the plantation knew Hanna's name.
Hanna, currently kneeling, fixed her gaze towards the door and squinted enough to make out the silhouette of the overseer whom she recognized as Andrew. "This is miserable, sir," she answered.
Warren was the name of the overseer who had trussed up Hanna and left her to swelter in the bungalow. He was a smaller man and not nearly as good looking as Andrew, who was tall with broad shoulders and a chiseled jaw.
Andrew and most of the other overseers were very fond of Hanna. She was attractive, smart and well spoken. If it came down to it and Hanna was sentenced to meet the fate of the bullwhip, there was a good chance that the overseers would make another slave crack the whip.
"It's time," Andrew said. He approached the mud-covered beauty with a ring of keys and detached the short chain connecting her manacles. He remained behind the slave as she struggled to her feet and wrapped his large arms around her while she gained her balance. It was not a blatant effort to rub his erect penis against Hanna's backside, but it happened nonetheless. "Not gonna take off the leg irons or wrist chains. Sorry," he said and released his grasp. "I'll add this, though," he said, holding up a length of hemp rope that would soon become her leash.
"Ugg," Hanna replied, rolling her shoulders to get out some kinks that had set in; the stiff penis of the overseer did not go unnoticed and her mud covered nipples hardened a bit.
The short chain connecting Hanna's ankles made it a slow, excruciating walk to the "punishment" corral and the sporadic tugs at her leash didn't help. The distance was less than a hundred yards, but navigating the gravel path on bare, fettered feet was brutal. The five minute walk seemed like a mile.
The plantation punishments were always carried out at a time when all of the slaves had a chance to witness them. Today's session was to take place in the blazing two o'clock heat, which gave the other slaves a rare respite from their work in the fields.
The field slaves had already assembled when Hanna painfully shuffled her way to the wooden structure in the middle of the courtyard. This structure resembled a modern day jungle gym and it had four sides, each designed to uniquely punish a slave.
It was about a fifty-fifty split between the slaves: half cherished the sight of Hanna's humiliation and half couldn't bear to watch. As Hanna was led past the north side of the structure she spied two sets of stocks that she had witnessed myriad misbehaving slaves' locked up in. In fact, her mother had once had her bare feet clamped between the heavy timbers of the stocks. The overseers had been gracious enough to allow Hanna to give her mother drinks of water and rub her aching ankles and feet while confined. When slaves were sentenced to the stocks, they were stripped from the waist up and their hands were tied behind their backs. The seat the punished slave was forced to sit on was nothing more than a two-inch by six-inch board that was affixed with the narrow end up: very uncomfortable to sit on for several hours.
Not gonna be the stocks for me today,
Hanna mused as she was led around to the east side of the structure, the side that was typically used to punish a misbehaving slave's bare feet. At least that is what Hanna had witnessed in the past. Bastinado is what they had planned for her, and most likely something else...
Andrew released his grasp of Hanna and then waved over two younger male field slaves who each had a large bucket of water. One at a time, they tossed the contents onto Hanna to remove some of the filth she had accumulated struggling around in the bungalow.
Andrew's strong hands grasped her by the shoulders and forced her down to a kneeling position on a wooden platform that was only up off the ground by a few inches. He removed the leash from her neck and the leg irons and then positioned her so that her bare feet were dangling over the edge of the platform and he swiftly lashed her ankles to the wood, using leather straps that were attached.
The overseer, a true lover of female feet, could not help but admire Hanna's soft, soles. They were the soles of a house slave who had access to the Mistress's pummel stone and the expensive oils that were kept in the master bedroom.
Without addressing the assembly, Andrew grabbed the thick strap that he would use to whip Hanna's soles. The overseer had applied that very strap to dozens of slaves previously, but none of them as gorgeous as Hanna. He had never once broken the skin of a slave with this strap, but he knew that it caused excruciating pain.
Bastinado was one of the milder forms of punishment at the plantation that was usually dedicated to individuals who committed minor infractions. Slaves who had experienced multiple forms of punishment debated which was worse, eight hours in the stocks or the bastinado; neither was pleasant and good arguments for both sides were presented.
Without having to make eye contact with any of her fellow slaves, Hanna could feel their eyes staring at her in her helpless state. Hanna had often wondered how she would feel being the one in public bondage, and not just an observer. She was ashamed to admit that it had always turned her on to watch other slaves tied up and flogged. It did not matter much if the subject was male or female; she became damp in her crotch for each and would often times masturbate to what she had witnessed. Now that she was the one tied down, the mystery of whether or not it would turn her on had been solved: she was.
Her crotch moistened and her nipples grew even harder as she knelt and waited for her first lash which was delivered with a thundering crack. The pain was delayed a second before it reached her brain and that is when she let out a cry. Her left arch burned a fire that she had never felt before. The second lash wasn't as loud when it snapped down on her right sole, also on the arch. A second passed, and then the fire matched that of her left foot.
The lashes continued and the poor punished girl's arousal grew with each crack. By the time the tenth and final blow had been delivered, Hanna was breathing hard and the crotch of her handwoven undergarments was soaked in her juices.
Andrew stepped back from the platform and wiped his brow, admiring Hanna's now reddened soles. He hung the strap on a nail that had been pounded into the post to the left of Hannah and then released her ankles from the straps. After easing the slave up and off the platform by her shoulders, he then led her to the post to the right of where she had been kneeling.
He gently nudged Hanna towards the post until her nose was within inches of the smooth wood and then removed her wrist chains.
"Arms up," he commanded, not giving Hanna much time at all to massage her aching wrists.
Hanna obeyed and then the overseer swiftly bound her hands with the end of a long length of rough hemp rope. The rope led from her hands to a pulley affixed to the top of the post. Andrew took up the slack enough to get her on to her tiptoes.
A humiliated and horny Hanna waited for what she knew was next in her ordeal: standing on the pegs.
She raised her right foot to step up but Andrew stopped her. "Not just yet," he grumbled.
Hanna felt his strong hands grab her hips and then she felt him pulling down her undergarments. She was devastated at what was happening, as it was very rare for a female slave to be stripped completely naked and put on display.
"Step out," the overseer commanded, referring to the ball of material now covering her feet.
"Please, no," she begged in a half whisper. "Please let me keep them."
