while she writhed she was open. When she lay still again her cunt screamed for attention.
I hit Dorinda. In pain the two girls are different yet the same. To writhe is to writhe, to moan is to moan. But each has their own distinctive way of telling you they hurt. Dorinda is the most voluptuous of the two. To whip dorinda is to know an agony yourself. The agony of desire. With her first twistings and small cries I am aflame.
Two red weals bisect two female quims.
'It hurts terribly, master,' Terry tells me as though I need the information.
I whip them back and forth, one to the other. Their cries merge. Their struggles become continuous. Girlish hands beat against the floor and rach down to appease their wounds. When their eyes catch mine they smile.
Once more I am all the conquerors of the world. But I use judgement. I hope they would agree. I stop whipping the appealing cunts before there is damage. Besides, I love their owners. I go away. I leave them tied, moaning. They are so involved with their hurts they do not see me go. Miss Corbin is not happy. She looks at me sideways as I enter. 'Alright, beat me,' she invites bitterly.
I am indeed going to beat her. But not at her request. I survey her plight. My girls have, as usual, done an admirable job. Pettie's wrists are still handcuffed behind her back. But a rope drags them up to the ceiling so that she stands on tiptoe, bent forward to ease the strain, helpless. But in pain. Rope on het wrists would be bad enough, but handcuffs…!
Her bottom is beautifully displayed. It exhibits nine gorgeous wound and asks for more.
'I suppose I get whipped to death?' Pettie asks without hope.
It is a good thought. But not to death! Why waste a perfectly good girl? I tell her so.
'Fuck you, Buster!' she exclaims so that I know she has relinquished hope.
My power is complete. All three girls are helpless and exposed to whip and cane. I could make an orchestration of agony. It is at such times that we display mercy. It inflates our egos.
'You said that deliberately to annoy me, didn't you?' I ask.
'Whip me and get it over with.'
'It will never be over.'
It sinks in. Pettie is faced with the unknowable. heroics are no match for the forever. Faced with it, discomfort wins: 'Please lower my arms. I hurt dreadfully.'
'What else did you expect?'
'I know.' Pettie speaks without any of her usual sarcasms. 'But I have to ask. You might be merciful. How am I to know? Please lower my arms. I'll still be helpless.' She flung tears from her face by a vigorous shake of the head. She was learning. She should learn more. 'How many strokes would you ask for to gain the relief yoe seek?' I ask callously.
She hears my brutal question with joy.
'Any number you wish, sir.'
'Why call me sir?'
'It is a title of respect. I have supposed it required.'
'Call me master.'
'Yes master.' I could sense her loathing. But she kept it from her voice.
'Well, how many?'
How cruel a question!
'Five, please, master?' her voice was a question mark. How vividly her mind had computed. To ask for as few as possible without giving offense. I was pleasantly surprised by the five. She was learning.
'Five it is. I shall lay them on hard.'
'Thank you, master.' I could scarcely believe my ears. I struck the exquisitely bent derriere and watched the resultant gymnastics. Pettie's vocals were as erotic as her body.
I had expected pleas and excuses. But there were none. Agony aplenty. But no evasions. Her bottom was to be cut five tomes. The vulgar hoyden was reconciled. I struck again… and again… and again. Pettie rose to heights of pain undreamed of. I shared it all. Never once did I feel other than that I was doing her a favour.
At the end of the fifth I let her agonize awhile. Hers was a beautiful pose from which a girl might proclaim her anguish. But after a little while in which Pettie herself did no prompting, Suburbia gave me a few prods. Hastily I loosed the tether. Pettie's hands fell normally behind her back. I think she simply soaked up the relief. It was quite a while before she whispered: 'Thank you master.' It sounded genuine.
I let her enjoy. I was quite sure those handcuffs had been rough on her wrists. Probably a damn sight worse than the six with the cane. She didn't seem to want to do or say anything. Just stood.
'You know you have to be punished?' I asked offhandedly after awhile.
'Yes master.' That 'master' had become automatic.
I recalled something. It seemed pertinent. 'Do you remember asking me what good pain was: what difference it made: what point there was inflicting it on you?'
The naked girl searched her mind and shuffled uneasily.
'Yes master.'
'Well?'
'You were right, master. I did not believe it then. I do now.'
'When was it you find out?'
She gave my question the same careful consideration.
'With the first stroke, master.'
I was awed. the power of the whip on female flesh! Had those old buffers down through history been right! whip your woman into submission and damn the rest! Damn the niceties! Damn chivalry! A woman was a chattel. Keep her so.
'How do you wish to be punished?' I used my weakness to probe.
'It is for you to say, master.'
'I'm going to whip your loins.'
Pettie tensed. I watched the knowledge of what awaited seep through her being. She gave me a quick sideways look as though to verify. 'You are going to whip across my cunt, master?' She wanted it specific.
'Yes.'
'Thank you, master.' She had abandoned hope.
I went back to my girls. They were happily engaged in feminine chatter as though they had not been cruelly whipped. The words died as i entered. I was more important. They looked up at me hopefully. 'I have work for you,' I said, and loosed their ropes.
They untied their ankles themselves. Then stood, quite free. On impulse I asked: 'Why don't you run? Why don't you jump me?'
'We are slave girls, master.' They had an answer to everything.
They picked up their ankle chains and offered them to me.
'You should chain our feet, master, lest we be tempted.'
'You want me to?'
'Yes, master.' Their female desire blended as one. On impulse I asked: 'When did you first become slaves?'
They exchanged their sibling look. 'When the whip first marked us, master.'
It is as though all the women of the world are one. But men are scattered far and wide. I adored them. They knew I adored them. They glowed. 'I have a task for you,' I said.
They adored that too. I am in danger of belonging to them utterly instead of they to me. Pettie surveyed their glowing entry without hope. 'Fuck off,' she requested, 'I've had enough of broads.'
'You prefer our master?' The question reeked of approval.
'All I want to do is get out of here.' Pettie surveyed them disdainfully. 'I suppose you're going to whip my bum?'
'Not exactly your bum, darling.'
'You needn't call me darling, you lousy Les.'
Dorinda turned shining eyes to me. 'May we, please, afterwards, master?'
I signified approval.
Pettie saw the interchange. 'About the best thing that can happen to a girl in this nut house is to get her arse
