<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/c4/a2/eb/c4a2eb3622a5fd5f4149b8e094a22fa3.jpg)</div><strong>Name: </strong>Danae Vine-Lott (https://www.dndbeyond.com/characters/13428552/mqOlTT)<br/><strong>Location: </strong>The Mercy, deck<br/><strong>Wearing: </strong>White cotton jodhpurs, loose grey muslin riding shirt with collar open and sleeves rolled up, barefoot<br/><strong>Content: </strong>Punishment<br/><strong>Tagging: </strong>Jacqueline, Open<br/><br/>Anything to get her out of that damned hold would have done, and when she found herself bound to the mast, ready to be flogged a part of her felt an enduring sense of relief that she was no longer down there, with those<em>things</em>.  In the distance, she saw land, and felt a gleam of hope.  They would soon escape this accursed ship, even if she had to bear the Captain's stripes for the privilege.<br/><br/>The first strikes of the cruel whip lashed open her shirt, and her pale skin, unaccustomed to this philistine sun, was bared and welted bloody by the hard sting of the lash.  How she felt it! The agony was an ecstasy of all of its own, a transcendent, full body sensation fibrillating every nerve ending, and reaching into every single fibre of muscle.  With each blow, she tensed, hard muscles pulled so taut she felt like she would break in half.  Not a cry, but low grunts bitten against bloody lips.  The sun beaten down on her bloody back, and Baykur struck once again.  The heat built within her, flooding from between her thighs, hot and insistent like the blood pooling between her scapulae.  She felt the whip like an extension of Baykur's body, thinking it a dusky hand beating a tattoo on her bare skin.  There was no shame in this, in her bloated nipples tenting the ragged fabric of her shirt, her breath hoarse and urgent.<br/><br/><em>Vine-Lott, you are a slovenly girl,</em>the schoolmistress had said, cane in hand, and Danae with her half-breeches pulled down, biting the leather upholstery of the sofa, knowing what was to come,<em>you were warned about consorting with the farm girls.  If you behave like a common trollop, I shall treat you like one</em>.<br/><br/>Danae inhaled, and the agony of her tribulation washed over her.  "Captain," she gasped, when Jacqueline drew her rapier, emboldened by her companion's show of reckless defiance, "it is no small honour to measure myself against a woman such as you, but you will find the kiss of the lash is scarcely sufficient to break a soldier."<br/><br/>To Jacqueline she said, "There is no surrender here; we did not survive the wreck of the Charlotte for naught.  I have my crew here, and together we must escape this madness."