Corruption of Salim
Copyright© 2026 by Andosius
Chapter 3: Sharp blows
BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 3: Sharp blows - Wealthy artist buys an exotic slave girl who leads him to darker and darker things.
Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Slavery Heterosexual Fiction Historical BDSM MaleDom Sadistic Spanking Torture Gang Bang Black Female Anal Sex Oral Sex Needles
When Salim al-Fanaan reached his home and introduced Horsetail to his servants, Saadeh shook his gray head.
O woe to us, young master, don’t you know that these nomad scum are devil worshipers and bringers of discord? Wasn’t the great house of Omar brought to ruin by the intrigues of a Khati concubine and groom? - he spoke in a grave voice.
And look how the ugly wench looks at us, as if she, a whip-scarred slave, is better than us? – his wife Radi chimed in.
Worry not, my good, loyal servants, - replied Salim, nonchalantly waving a hand, - she is no devil, just a slave girl in need of discipline. Speaking of which, bring ropes and a whip from the stable and tie her to a pillar.
To Salim’s surprise and amusement, Horsetail waited for the Saadeh’s return calmly enough, but when it came to tying her for the whipping, she put up quite a struggle and had to be wrestled down before she could be bound to the sconce on one of the atrium pillars, arms above her head.
She never struck him or his servant, though—a restraint that made Salim suspect her insolence and resistance were symbolic in nature, aimed to protect some sense of agency and dignity on her part. Like peasants in Khemi who consider it a point of honor to pay no taxes until they are forced by violence. He briefly wondered whether it would be better to find some compromise here or try to crush her spirit utterly.
After his new slave girl was finally tied to the pillar, Salim ordered Saadeh to start the whipping. Saadeh took a camel whip and laid the short, thick, braided leather thong across the nomad woman’s tunic-covered back. The first dozen lashes drew neither yelp, nor grimace from the slave girl. Her breath remained calm, her scarred face impassive, as if waiting for something. On Salim’s command, Saadeh tore the shabby tunic off her and continued the punishment.
You will wear only these torn rags as a reminder of the consequences of your stubbornness, - Salim declared to the whipped slave girl, raising his voice over the loud slaps of the whip on her naked flesh.
She ignored both his remark and the continuing blows, taking the lashing as if it were the most mundane thing in the world. “Well, with her character, perhaps for her it is. I’ll need something more creative to get through to her,” Salim thought.
Examining her in the light of day, he saw the scarring was heaviest on the back and ass, with many scar lines snaking over to the front of her torso, across her thighs, and upper arms. Multiple brand marks pocked her skin, both signs of previous owners and from hot pokers, marred and crossed over by later scars. He was astonished that anyone could not only survive but also retain health and agility after so much torture.
Abrasions bloomed on the girl’s scarred back as the old Saadeh laid into her, but she remained silent. Even her body didn’t recoil or twist under the blows like other punished slaves he’d seen. Only her lips moved wordlessly. The artist was further perplexed by the lack of bruises. Perhaps there was some magic involved after all?
Hit her harder, old friend, - Salim urged Saadeh, - you aren’t even bruising her.
Saadeh redoubled his efforts, swinging the camel whip wider and harder, but with little effect. Soon, however, he stopped whipping the indomitable slave girl and leaned against a pillar panting heavily.
I’m sorry, Master Salim, I’m afraid I need a break, - he said.
Don’t drive him sso hard, my masster, leasst he diess of exertion, - Horsetail mocked.
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