The first lash resounded off t,he walls with a sharp cracking retort, and Pamela jerked in her ropes. The stroke had burned like fire to Pamela. A new girl always thought about her first whipping, and about how it, would feel. She had no idea.
Would it be unbearable? Would I cry? Would I scream? Pamela's first sound was not a scream at all. It was, in fact, more like a hiss, produced not so much from the hurt, but from the utter shock and surprise of how very much it did hurt. The second Iash also produced a hiss.
Jan did not hurry the whipping, being well versed in such matters. Each lash should be well separated from the next, so that it became an individual punishment all in itself. The lashes now produced a variety of gasps and moans from Pamela partly from the hurt, partly from the utter humiliation of having her bottom whipped in front of other young girls. It was the latter, rather than the hurt, which produced in Pamela at least the slightest beginning of a sexual awareness. She could feel the moistness begin, and, despite her pain, began to understand the unique and mysterious puzzle which the whip brought to a girl. The whip hurt very much, there was no denying that. But at the same time it produced an arousal in a girl to offset the hurt. In a sense, it was punishment and reward at once. Even a whipping produced some pleasures, and as a girl continued to be whipped over time, the arousal became stronger and the hurt weaker, until finally a whipping became a thing of pure pleasure and the discomfort of the hurt became insignificant. It had been so since the first female in history had been whipped. But it took time, and the first whipping was more hurt, than pleasure, as Pamela realized!
Pamela knew very well t,hat if Jan had whipped her privately she might very well be thrashing upon the frame and screaming to high heavens.
But somehow being whipped in front of the other girls gave her a resolve to receive it with dignity.
After all, a girl did have pride, and she did not wish her peers to think her a crybaby. A girl thus took a whipping much better in front of her sisters. This fact had been observed down through all the centuries, in all lands, and therefore females were usually whipped in front of others. It was indeed the reason why girls at Avondale were not whipped alone in a room. That, and of course, because of the pleasure it brought to the girls who watched
Pamela tried not to scream, but soon realized that it was impossible not to do so. For a brief moment she felt ashamed to cry out, then just as quickly realized that certainly girls did scream when whipped. Even those here in the room who had been whipped for months or a year. On this point, Pamela was exactly right, for a girl was foolish to try and remain silent under the whip. Crying out helped considerably, and as Pamela would find later, a girl's cries and moans and screams were very arousing to those who watched. When she learned to love the whip, and to care for her sisters, she would actually cry out, much more than even necessary to please them and arouse them. It was a matter of Avondale girls loving each other so much that they tried to scream and moan beyond normalcy, simply to turn the other girls on with sadistic pleasure. But this philosophy would come later as Pamela became experienced. It would be the ultimate act of sacrifice and love that a girl could do for others, to actually desire to be hurl to provide pleasure to other girls! When this point was reached, a girl became a total and perfect woman.
By the end of the first dozen, Pamela's panties were beginning to shred from the five thick leather thongs, and she could feel the welts rising. The hurt was not getting any better, but, on the other hand, it was not getting particularly worse either.
It has been said that there is a point in whipping a female beyond which she can accept unlimited
punishment, for she has reached a point, of hurting which no longer can be intensified. Thus at public floggings in ancient Rome or medieval Europe a woman would scream and writhe during the first fifty lashes, but then hang quietly while her whipping went on and on. In most cases, at this point, her punishment would end for it was no longer having the desired effect upon her. Pamela was certainly not near this point, but her ability to accept the continuing lashes seemed to improve.
The twentieth lash was delivered by Jan and brought the expected moan from her slave. Pieces of Pamela's pants were scattered about the carpet and she was glistening wet down-her back and on her forehead. It had been a good whipping and Jan was pleased with her effort, as well as nicely aroused by her Pamela. Some girls were more ex- citing to whip than others and Jan could see that Pamela would provide her with much pleasure in the future..
'We have a cute custom here with new slaves,' said Jan. 'You have taken twenty, and it is all that is required at your first whipping. However, you may elect to take more. It is rather a tradition for a first-time girl to have her panties whipped off.
That is why you were allowed to wear them for this whipping. It will take about fifteen more lashes to strip you completely. This is not required however, and if you have had enough then I will stop right now, and hold no claim against you, nor think less of you. The choice is yours, but you must instruct me, slave Pamela.'
Pamela shook her head and her auburn hair whisked across her shoulders. She could take no more. Perhaps after weeks of experience, but not on her first whipping. Tears filled her eyes from the emotional position she had been put into. She glanced at some of the girls seated on the floor in front of her, trying to find the answer, but they purposely looked away. The choice had to be hers.
It was a judgment of some importance, obviously.
A repeat of what she had just taken would be unbearable… far too much for her first time. Yet, should she request no further punishment, what would the girls think of her? How many of them had asked for more? All of them? None of them? If most or all of them had, would they think her a baby and not share their love with her? More of the terrible hurt, or the love and respect, of her peers?
'Mistress Jan, please whip my panties off!' she said clearly. The decision had been made, now she must pay for it. Yet, as she looked at the girls, she saw that they had all turned their faces towards her, and there were looks of love and admiration upon them. Two or three blew little kisses to Pamela, including Donna. Pamela swelled with pride. The decision had been right!
The first searing lash made Pamela snap her head back, and the second made her yelp like an animal. Jan was whipping her much harder than before. Despite the agony of the whip, Pamela nearly smiled in a remembrance that she had nearly decided that morning to wear her tiniest bikini panties, but instead had put on a normal pair. How much quicker the job could have been done if she had worn the little pants!
It was then that Pamela began to learn about girls, and the unique creatures that they are. For as Jan's cat stripped the nylon shreds from her tortured bottom, the other girls began to vocally en- courage Jan, and cheer as each piece of panty flew into the air.
'Whip her harder, mistress Jan!'
'Righ to, make her scream!'
'Let's see her bawl like a baby!'
'How's it feel to lose your pants, baby?'
Pamela nearly wept. Had she misjudged these girls? Were they nothing more than little sadists?
How could they ask Jan to whip her harder? Pamela would find the answers to these questions sooner than she thought.
Pamela had no idea of how many more lashes she took, as she lay against the frame in a semi-stupor of hurt and confusion. She was aware of cheering after an eternity, and of the other girls untying her, and kissing her ears and lips. Several put their arms around her and helped her to walk. She looked down and saw that her panties were gone entirely.
Despite her hurt, and despite the stunning things the girls had said to encourage her whipping to a greater level, she knew that, the girls did love her now. They talked t,o her, and hugged her, and kissed her, as they. led her to a clear spot on the floor.
Lisa, a pert and pretty blonde, put Pamela on her belly upon the carpet.
'Good girl, Pam! We all love you, y'know. We think you're smashing. You'll soon find why we urged Jan on. Now, just lie there, propped up on your elbows hon, and Ginny and I will rub some body salve on your poor ass… makes it feel lots better… you'll love us for it. I know! You just lie there and enjoy Donna's turn and we'll take care of that pretty little bottom of yours;'
Pamela's eyes moistened from the cool feel of the lotion on her welted bottom, She had never felt such love and caring from other girls. Their very soft hands were like those of angels, ministering to her wounds. It wasn't really the soothing effect of the salve that made her nearly purr in relief, but it. was the feel of those loving and tender hands upon her flesh. At that moment Pamela began to know girls and their funny ways. They had cheered
