“And then if you had spat in her face-”
“Oh please, don’t torture me so! If-if you must have your revenge, take it, while I still have the courage to endure it! But if you only knew how uncomfortable I am, how all my limbs ache, you would show kindness and put an end to it,” she sobbed.
“Very well, I shall pronounce sentence. For the slap, eight good cuts with the whip on your naked behind.”
“Oh! Oh dear!”
“For spitting, twice as many, half to be inflicted on your naked bottom, the other half on the fronts of your thighs. You may prepare yourself, Marion, and I shall keep exact count, because this being your first whipping, I very much doubt your ability to retain an accurate accounting.”
I pushed her lovely cascading black hair to one side so that I could grip her neck firmly with my left hand and, standing off to the left and with the whip in my right, raised it slowly so that she could not help but see it in the mirror in front of her. She uttered a sob, closed her eyes, and tensed herself with all her might. The lovely play of her muscles under the rippling satiny olive skin was enchantment itself. My cock was as hard as it had been at the very start of our afternoon in the Snuggery. But now there was a difference. Now I had learned much of Marion’s secret nature, and now I could proceed undaunted to adapt and to shape it as Pygmalion fashioned his immortal Galatea, to my very own whims and fancies and lusts!
Chapter 9
I kept Marion waiting a long, languishing moment with my whip upraised and my left hand gripping the back of her slim neck. I must say that she showed now more bravery than could have been expected after her emotional breakdown and her confessional. I daresay if I had been thoroughly pacific with my intentions, I could have shown a nobility of character by forgiving her and releasing her and then cozening her into making love with me. But I think I correctly estimated that this would be a show of weakness on my part in turn and that she might try to regain her lost terrain and be haughtier than ever with me. No, I must harden my heart-just as my cock was hardened!-and proceed to a thorough subjugation of my beautiful sister-in-law to be.
At last I brought the whip down rather smartly across the top of her hips. It made a soft smacking sound, but it left no mark, although Marion sucked in her breath and nervously jerked, perhaps more from the torturing suspense than from the first stripe itself. “That is one,” I counted aloud. She bent her head, closed her eyes, while I stared over her shoulder at the mirror, feasting my vision to the utmost. You cannot have any idea how really mouthwateringly tasty Alice’s sister was, standing there stark naked except for her black stockings and the flouncy rosette garters, her legs slightly spread apart, her arms drawn up so high that her pectoral muscles were in fine bold relief, and the uptilting insolent pears of her bubbies surged out with a really dazzling elegance as if she would not be ashamed to enter them in a contest of love goddesses-including glorious Venus herself! Indeed, she would not have come off too badly in such a contest, in my private opinion.
I dealt the second cut a little lower down, just over the tops of her prominent firm bottom ovals, and I enjoyed the sight of the lash clinging across those tensing hemispheres and the tip flicking round towards her tender groin. Marion gasped a little more loudly this time, nervously tried to shift from foot to foot, and dragged on her wrists. From the way her sides were trembling, and I could see the lovely ribcage plainly outlined against her taut warm olive skin, I knew that she must really be fatigued from the long duration of her atonement. But as this would join in the overall stress upon her nerves and her psyche to bring me the most delicious nuances of voluptuous gratification, I again hardened my heart and directed the third cut about an inch below the place where the second lash had kissed.
Her hips gave an involuntary swerve to this side, and to that; her head tilted back a little and her eyes opened. Intently following the reflection of her features-as well as her body to be sure!-in the huge mirror in front of her, I perceived that they were full of tears and that her nostrils were beginning again to dilate rather rapidly.
I did not keep her waiting for the fourth cut, but applied it almost instantly thereafter, yet exactly over the last place attacked. A reiterative stroke on bare flesh which has already been sensitized produces much more than a double effect of irksome heat, which radiates throughout the entire feminine nervous system and thus aggrandizes the suffering-and also the voluptuous titillations which a whipping always produces in a female of any sensitivity whatsoever, as any connoisseur of flagellation can tell you from experience.
The fifth lash took a little longer, and Marion nervously glanced back for a second, then again bowed her head and stiffened herself. It cut directly across the plumpest curves of both naked hindquarters, producing a faint sob of “Aahh!” and a convulsive squirming which I found maddeningly stimulating to my roused and now again savagely excited cock.
I made her wait almost a minute for the sixth lash, which wrapped the soft-substanced whip around the base of that mouthwateringly contoured backside of hers and possibly may have darted the tip of the lash in toward her furry gap, for she lunged to the left, sticking her bottom practically back at my swollen prick, while with a plaintive groan she entreated, “Ohh, please, please, s-sir, it hurts, it hurts!”
“To be sure it does, Marion, and it is meant to. What will it be, I wonder, when you receive your final eight strokes across the fronts of your thighs? You may ponder on that question while I complete the first portion of your whipping,” I said. I now applied the two final cuts of that first sentence of eight lashes for the slap, placing them straight across, once more, the jounciest region of the summits of her naked olive-satiny behind. She groaned and sobbed a little, twisted and jerked, but in the main I had to admit that she had borne her eight strokes with relatively good grace, far better than a naughty teen-ager would have done if bent over a desk to receive chastisement for poor lessons or inattentiveness or rudeness to her mistress.
But now I had an ingenious interlude to accord her which I knew would further surprise her tender flesh, unused as it certainly must have been during her three years of marriage to such imaginative treatments. Placing the whip on a tabouret to my right and behind her, I now took up the globe-box, opened and took out the longest, softest feather of the dozen, then closed the box and put it down beside the ship. During this pause, Marion again lifted her head and opened her eyes and stared into the mirror, doubtless to determine what I next intended. Her eyes widened a bit when she saw the feather in my hand, and then she blushed vividly and again closed her eyes and bowed her head, while a long tremor passed through that bewitching supple body of hers, tethered by the silken ropes at her ankles and by the rope-pulleys at her updrawn wrists.
I squatted, and after a moment’s study of her lovely quivering bare bottom and the beautiful merger of those long supple thighs sheathed so provocatively in the tightly moulding black silk hose, I extended the feather in my right hand and began to graze her sleek calves, then her kneehollows, and then on upwards along her thighs till I had reached the tops of the fine hose and was titillating the bare olive skin itself. Marion fidgeted throughout this unexpected treatment and glanced back once or twice at me, and I also noticed that her thighs made involuntary jerks as if to clench together which, of course, the ropes at her ankles utterly prevented. I stroked her naked thighs a long moment, next artfully passed the side of the feather over the swelling curve at the base of her left buttock, then moved it to the other cheek at the same place, lulling her by this stroking and caressing but at the same time making her all too conscious of her nakedness before me and of all that she exposed so vulnerably to my slightest whim. Suddenly I passed the tip of the feather into the shadowy groove which separated her tensing naked bottomcheeks, and with the very tip of the plume tickled the secretive niche of her arse-hole. I made no attempt to open the cheeks of her behind to locate it definitely, but I knew that I had attained it from the sudden horrified little squeal of “Aahhh, oh, good Lord, what are you doing to me now, s-s-sir?” and her immediate violent contraction of all her bottom muscles to defend that most sensitive and most shameful of orifices.
Quite satisfied with her reaction, I resumed my little game, grazing the feather all over the quivering cheeks of her bare bottom, especially where the springy lash had inflicted its warm kisses on her choice firm satiny olive- tinted flesh. Her head tilted back again, and her breasts began to rise and fall with an erratic cadence, while long rippling tremors surged up and down her shapely long thighs. Yes, in many ways, Marion surpassed dear Alice in the complexity and deeply rooted latency of her feminine and sexual nature! What a treasure I had found in this black- haired beauty who had come to score me off, but who was now herself in the process of being scored!
I covered her entire bottom with those feathery caresses, ending at the chinkbone with its pronounced dimple, and Marion squirmed and wriggled salaciously at this last phase of the tickling, finally gasping, “Oh, for God’s sake, s-s-sir, finish my punishment, I can’t stand much more of this!”
