Kerana - Slave of Atlantis

It was harder to run with her wrists tied behind her than Kerana expected., but she plunged on among the wagons and pack animals, shouldering startled people aside, weaving to confuse any pursuit as she sprinted for her goal. With a surge of elation, she saw her escape route just ahead, glanced back to look for her pursuers and slammed into the flank of a horse with enough force to knock her off her feet.

Macro had dismounted, lifted her with frightening ease, thrown her over his saddle and mounted again before Kerana even had her breath back.

“Not only a naughty girl but a silly one too.”

A hard hand smacked down on her upturned bottom, and she growled with fury as Macro’s horny palm dealt stinging blows to her already smarting buttocks. He rode slowly past the caravan, spanking her rhythmically while the travellers jeered and laughed at her embarrassment. Burning with humiliation, Kerana kept her head down on the horse’s shoulder, biting back the cries she was determined would not escape her as the fiery pain worsened with each loud slap of hand on flesh. One of his muscular thighs was pressing against her own and her left breast rubbed against the other as her body jolted back and forth under the sharp blows to her bottom. To her horrified amazement, her nipples began to harden, and Kerana tensed in sudden alarm as a tingling glow started spreading through her lower belly. The severity of Macro’s smacks did not diminish, yet somehow the nature of her pain seemed to change. Her head spun in disbelief. It was almost… pleasant… stimulating! The onlooker’s laughter receded as all her senses centred only on the sound of Macro’s rhythmically slapping hand, its sting on her bouncing buttocks and the growing heat in her pulsing sex.

Then she was back where she had started and Macro dumped her into the hands of her waiting guards. Stunned and shamed, and still not believing what had just happened, she raised her eyes to his to prove she had shed no tears. His grin as he met her eye stung her almost as much as his palm had. Her arousal vanished in a wave of humiliation and anger. Suddenly Kerana felt only her pain and badly wanted to rub her poor, sore bottom. She was glad her bound wrists prevented her. She would show no weakness to the bastard, or any mercy either when she wiped the infuriating smile off his face with her sword.

“Should we whip her, Lord Macro?” one of the guards asked.

“The caravan’s moving,” another called.

“Then get her chained and let’s away.”

Two guards held Kerana while a third closed the hinged collar around her neck. The faint click as he turned the key in the lock was like the knell of doom to Kerana’s ears. “Up slaves,” the same man ordered, and the six slave girls rose to their feet. He fixed the chain hanging from Kerana’s collar to a ring at the back of the collar of the girl ahead of her, stepped away and uncoiled the plaited leather whip from his belt. “Onward, wenches,” he called cheerfully, cracking the whip above the heads of his charges. “Your new masters await you.”