(Photo attribution: By Pearson Scott Foresman [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons)
Three couples visit a Nude Day exhibit at an art museum, causing the men to have very peculiar reactions to paintings featuring whipping. Each of the men scoffs at the idea of Nude Day in a museum, but each finds himself having a sense of déjà vu, as if he'd been present when the painting was created. Labeled as a romance, the story is dark and disturbing, as only MS Tarot can tell it.
- Title: Lost Times
- Author: MS Tarot
- Type of Book: free story, Erotica, Nude Day contest entry
- Pages: 3 Literotica pages
- Category: Romance (dark romance)
This story is not a romance in the typical sense, and if the reader is expecting wine and candles, he/she will be disappointed. It is a dark tale of bondage and whipping realities in the past confronting bondage and whipping fantasies in the present. There is romance in each of the sub-stories, but they are dark as well.
This story causes discomfort, which is something that MS Tarot's stories do like no other author's. He explores the darkness of the need to inflict or receive pain, where punishment meets erotic, and he questions why some experience this and others do not.
All-in-all, a very different view of the idea of National Nude Day.
I glanced around me at the painting of sailing ships, every one of them had some element of nude woman added to them. In the waves. As the figure heads. Even in the clouds.
"I don't like this one. That's just horrible." I heard her say from next to me.
Looking around, I saw the painting she was looking at. A man was standing behind a woman, who was lashed to a ship's grating, a rope cat-o-nine-tails held above his head ready to strike. A second man was rushing towards the scene to stop the brutal punishment from happening, and there was an angry looking Captain figure moving forwards as well to make sure the man didn't interfere.
** ** ** ** ** ** **
The men holding my arms were gripping me so terribly tight. Where did they think I was going to run to? When I was dragged through the hatchway and onto the deck of the ship my eyes are light-blinded, but I still tried to hunt that endless dark blue to light blue horizon line for any sign of land. It's been so long since I've seen land of any kind, my mind hungers for it.
Nausea hits me again.
Trying to keep from retching, I let them carry my weight more, since they seem intent on doing that anyway. I'm so terribly week from all the sicking-up. I wish this horrible journey was over, but they say we have two more months still to go! The two sailors take up my weight easily and drag my feet along the deck. I just let my head hang. I'm too sick; it's all too much. To even be having to watch this would be too much for me, let alone being the one being punished. And for what? Suckling my baby?
Worry over where my daughter Elspeth is hits me again, as it has for the whole two nights I've been locked in that dark hold, hung with iron chains. Hardly able to move for their metal weight. Who had my baby? Who has been feeding her? Have they somehow gotten her goat's milk? How? The Captain, and his noble born travelers, they have kept that all to themselves the whole voyage. Has my little Elspeth gone hungry? Surely not for two days! I would have heard her screaming for my breast.
A small, thin-sounding drum begins a slow beat. I looked at the upraised ship's grating and started to tremble. No!
The two men holding me tightened their grip, and I heard a humorless chuckle from one of them. They dragged me to the grating and pulled my arms up.
"NO. No. Please, no," I begged.
A man with a small, round hat stepped forwards to stand next to me and blew on a small metal pipe-whistle. The older, fancier dressed man next to him stepped forwards, his uniform immaculate.
"For the crimes of lewd conduct, insulting the uniform of an officer of the Queen's navy, and the attempted seduction of said officer the punishment of thirty lashes has been deemed appropriate punishment for the dishonor to the uniform, and the pride of her Majesty's navy and to the personal dishonor the officer suffered. Bosun's mate, prepare the condemned."
One of the men, who had dragged me here, grabbed at the back of my thin blouse and, despite my struggling, ripped it from me.
"Apply the cat."