With Mabel, it wouldn’t be.
CHAPTER 3
I lifted her to her feet, smoothed her hair for her and patted her bottom to signify she should just stand. Then I went to the chest and exchanged the cane for the small nine tailed silk corded whip we keep specially to use on a girl’s most secret parts. Yes, I had used it sometimes on Terry. Why not I sat down with the lovely wicked thing dangling provokingly from a negligent hand. Mabel looked at it. I looked at Mabel.
'What have I done, sir?' She was quite lost.
'Just been born female. Don’t you feel guilty?'
'You whip them others too, like this?'
'Worse.'
'But you must want something.'
'Total obedience. You must go beyond obeying. You must want to obey. Have no other thought bur obedience.'
'Don’t you want to fuck me?'
'Not now. And watch your speech. Each vulgarity gets you the whip. You have earned it now. One stroke. Will you stand still for it?'
'On my… on my…'
'On your what?'
She didn’t want to say it. The secret word would not be ‘nice’.
'On my breast, sir?' Prospect of the whip had revived the sir.
'Yes, on your breast. You may choose which one.'
'I won’t do it. I won’t. You’ve got no right..'
A little rest works wonders. When the worst of the hurt resides they discover they haven’t been broken after all.
Mabel fought with delightful fury. This time I needed her hands in front. When I unlocked one cuff she gave the battle everything she had. Teeth and claws and a good deal of very vulgar remonstrance. Even when I had her nicely stretched on to her toes she was still going strong. But the flood resided to a trickle and then died.
She looked at me with about three expressions at once. Anger, reproach, apprehension and a few other thoughts as well. Strung up like that, a girl rapidly comes face to face whit what she must. Then she looked at herself as though taking a last farewell from those two treasures sticking out of her chest. The suspension had flattened them out a bit. But they were entrancingly exposed for what I must do to them.
You noticed I have used the word must. I could no more have ignored them than fly. The two strokes that had already stolen their virginity beckoned like beacons. But I went and sat on the box again. Let the handcuffs hurt her for a little while before I started.
'I suppose it’s too late to say I’m sorry?' This time her face was really pathetic.
'It’s too late and you’re not really sorry. You just don’t want to be hurt.'
'Not there, sir. No girl wants to be hurt on those.'
'You have one other intimate place that this whip is well adapted to.'
'Oh, thank you sir. Thanks ever so. Please whip me there.'
Interesting. A girl’s breasts – her ultimate agony. I didn’t recall checking the point with Terry. I’d have to. Dorinda too. There was no doubt where Mabel’s weakness lay.
'Don’t thank me. I intend to whip all three. Two up, one down.'
'You like whipping girls?' It was a flat accusation.
'All men like whipping girls. Most lack the courage or the cash.'
'Isn’t there anything I can do… or say? Anything, sir? Please, I don’t want to whipped anymore… not anywhere.'
Poor girl. She looked altogether too female not to whip. I couldn’t explain the subtleties to her, so I got on with the job. She looked at me as I approached in about the same way that wench looked at the tiger when the Rajah staked her out for bait. I could understand her feelings. They were valid.
It was glorious. Her breasts took the lahes exquisitely. They were firm and stretched. No jouncing. The cords bit into their softness with free access to the whole area. Her nipples were rampant. Her plight was provocative. She wanted to lunge, struggle and lift herself off the floor. But she was stretched taut and the handcuffs hurt too much for her to do any of these things. Even though all of her except her wirsts was free, she had to and let me whip her as I pleased. It was cruelly beautiful. Don’t suppose you want the gasp and grown detail. It can be a bore. There were lots of both. Stangely enough she did not plead anymore. She seemed resigned to simply enduring. The best thing she did was with her head. She’d fling it back and forth and look up to the ceiling as fearful of watching what she was doing. Then, in adsolute fascination, she’d lean forward and try and and look at her breasts to see what the damage was. Only once did she watch my arm and follow the lashes as they flickered down upon her chest.
I whipped one breast at the time. It’s much the best way. Terry tells me it’s twice as effective and much more personal. She says it’s as though each of her breasts is a person, each getting its own punishment. In any case, it’s just naturally a better job than to try and cover both with one stroke. I go from side to side, backhand one one. Sometimes, before the handcuffs got to hurting too bad, I could just stand still and wait for Mabel’s gyrations to present a breast to advantage and then let it have it.
They were glorious scarlett!
Mabel wept with abandon.
I let her down three or four inches. She knew why. She looked at me pitiously. But seemed resigned. All hope gone sort of thing. She even nodded dumbly when I told her to spread her legs. Hre penalty for closing them would be a return to her breasts.
She cried steadily. I did not mind. I think it’s good for a girl to cry while she’s being whipped. Saves ‘m getting tied up in a knot inside. I’ve leart what I can about tears from Terry. But I’ll never get the whole truth from the little minx because she uses them to get her way with me. One of her secret weapons.
Girls are beautiful when they cry.
'It isn’t just a picnic, darling,' Terry said regretfully. Dorinda had not expected ‘Just a picnic’. There had been a moment when the handcuffs had been unlocked that she had hoped the day might be purely fun. But when she had also been denuded of her clothes, nakedness reminded her she was still a working girl. When she was alone with Terry she did not think of herself as a slave girl.
'I have an assignment,' Terry conided darkly. 'I didn’t do too well the last day we had together. So our Lord and Master tells me that when I bring you back for dinner you have to show a goodly number of fresh stripes. He says he does not kind where, just so long as he can count them.'
'I expect we’ll find a place on me somewhere. Not to worry.' Dorinda was happy. A whole day with darling Terry.
'He though up another quaint little notion that won’t be too easy. He’s going to look at your wrist. If the don’t show rope marks, we’ll be in trouble.'
Dorinda considered. 'If you want to carry the basket I suppose you could tie my wrists now and keep them tied all day. That would do it.' She twinkled. 'You can untie them for special duties, of course.'
'You don’t want to be tied up all day.'
'Not really. So how would it be if you hang me up by my wrists for half an hour just before we go back’ That will make me good.' 'Eell, if we have to. But let’s try and think of something else before the time comes. Dammit! He doesn’t want us to forget him. He’s promised the most awful punshment for both of us if I fail on this job.'
'Won’t he be tired after Mabel?' There was a faint ascerbity in Dorinda’s voice.
Terry giggled. 'You’re jealous.' She frowned. 'Im jealous too. I wish dear Mabel had got lost. She’s one too many. Poor little Terry is going to get submerged in all these nipples and breasts and hair. I used to have him all to myself. I don’t think Mabel’s much competition. But she’s got all the essential equipment.'
