Unknown - Return to Avondale

"Pam and Donna are only seventeen, and take the whip nicely," said Marienne.

"Maybe, I'd like to try it, sometime. Just once, to know that I have been whipped," said Lila wistfully.

"Yes… just once," said Marienne. "1'd like to share what Pam feels."

"Perhaps… sometime… we could try…" said Lila.

"With each other?"

"Well, who else would we dare involve?"

"I'll phone," said Marienne. She thanked Lila for her hospitality and brandy.

Neither said much more until Marienne's hand was on the doorknob. Both knew that when the door was opened their little fantasy would not ever happen.

Marienne released the knob and came back into the room. She said nothing.

"There is the old carriage barn," said Lila, blushing. "I do believe that there is an old carriage whip in there somewhere. And some rope."

Marienne had not replied, but, took Lila's hand.

"Come," Lila whispered.

The moment that Marienne McNee had felt her hands tied high to a barn post, she experienced the remarkable sensation that thousands, perhaps mil- lions, of females down through the centuries had felt. It was really indescribable for anyone, except a female who had experienced it, to try and ex- plain. It was… the tingly feeling. It was the helplessnees, and above all… it was the thought of what was to come.

Lila had suggested that she bare herself to the waist, but Marienne's fantasy had oft been treasured. It might well be her only whipping, and it would be like she had once seen in a movie at the Odeon, exactly!

"Tie me, and tear my dress down the back like they did at public whippings," she had asked.

"Don't pamper me, Lila. Just tear it and whip me.Twenty times."

Lila had brought the brandy bottle and held some to Marienne's lips before taking a swallow herself. Her hand trembled.

Marienne's blouse ripped easily to her waist, and her wrists twisted in their ropes in emotional response. A thirty-eight-year-old female was not old in any way, and her body, although mature, still curved nicely and her skin was still smooth.

Probably nothing is lovelier than a female's bare back, and it was not lost on Lila Carson. In front,Marienne's breasts were full and ample with long nipples. Lila thought of many things at that moment, but most of all, and perhaps rather strangely considering the scene, that pretty Pamela had come from this delightful body.

She was about to ask, but decided better of it.

After all, why spoil things? Marienne was her prisoner in their game and why not play the role? So she didn't ask, but reached around Marienne and held her warm breasts. A soft gasp escaped Marienne, and she let her head fall back onto Lila's shoulder.

The carriage whip made a frightening crack, and left a long red streak across the top of Marienne's back. Her hands clenched. As the lashes fell, Marienne did not cry out, surprising both of them. But she did jerk and her head flailed. Lila could not see that Marienne was clenching her teeth.

Lila was unaware of the sudden change in herself that the scene was creating. She also did not realize that each lash she put across Marienne's back became harder than the one before. The play had been duplicated thousands of times by thousands of females and was unexplainable. Even the timidest female who might have been forced to whip another, found her excitement and sadistic femininity grow with each lash she applied. And also her dominance. Marienne soon found that her courage of silence was meaningless and foolish, and began to respond to the lashes with vocal in- tensity. Lila found her moans most arousing, and whipped harder.

Lila was truly not the same woman she had been a few moments ago. The change was noticeable and very exciting to her. She ripped Marienne's skirt to the floor. Marienne's white panties immediately made her look very much younger. The last seven lashes left weals across the still-lovely bottom cheeks. With trembling hands she untied Marienne, who fell to her knees on the dirt floor in obvious emotion. The whip marks were terrible upon her flesh, and tears welled in her eyes as she whispered to herself.

"Oh, Pamela. My darling daughter Pamela. It was wonderful to share with you. I envy you now that 1 know. Be whipped, my daughter, hard and often… for I know now that females were meant to be punished so."

Lila Carson had not heard Marienne's soft words. She stood at the post with her hands raised to be tied.

"But you have seen what the whip did to my skin, Lila," said Marienne. "You wish the same?"

"No. Not the same. Thirty Lashes."

Lila's dress tore with a rip. Marienne's first lash made her cry out. Marienne McNee did not go home that night. Nor the next. In the Bed, the two women loved, and Marienne and Lila both gasped their daughters' names at special moments, and thought of them in each other's arms. Perhaps at this very moment!

The punishment and training of Avondale girls was not haphazard or come-as-you-may. It had been charted and planned and improved upon over the years through the experience of many lovely and wise headmistresses. It was a simple and undeniable fact that girls were wonderful at acclimating themselves to punishment if given time to adjust. It could be increased nicely, if patience and care were taken, to fantastic levels.

But time was needed for most girls, and rightly so, to learn to accept and expect increased training.

Ultimately, when a girl began to enjoy punishment she could be brought to any level, and anything could b6 done to her. The task was not all that difficult, fortunately, for girls possessed that unique and singular trait almost without exception. It was one of the surprising and delightful things in the world, among other things. Girls were made to be played with, whipped, hurt, and punished. Simply because they were girls.

Eventually any girl could be made to fully realize this. First was mere tolerance. Then acceptance.

Then an appetite for it. The stages came naturally, some girls faster than others. But eventually a girl would herself admit that since she was born a girl she should be made to bear punishments as a natural condition of her gender. When a girl reached this point she became one of earth's most fantastic creatures. She questioned not, punishment, the why of it, or what it was. That was up to others to decide. There need be no reason for punishment, other than she was a girl and her body was designed for punishment, thus a girl was punished for simply being a girl. If girls had not been meant to be punished, sexually taken, and chained, their bodies would not have been designed as they were.

A fully trained and elegant female would be the first to admit that the punishment of herself provided pleasure to others, thus what better role could she play than to have her body used for pleasing others? It became her role, her duty, her joy!

Pamela knew full well that the first two months at Avondale were easy, and she was intelligent enough to realize that she was far from trained into the kind of woman she wanted to be. It would take far more hurt and abuse and degradation to change her from a bouncy girl into a lovely and perfect young woman, and in a way, she looked forward to it.

Girls such as Pamela, who anticipated and expected a steadily increasing level of punishment, and would admit that it was necessary, were marvelous things to work with, and totally alluring. In her first two months Pamela had been brought along on schedule. She had learned that rope and chain were not occasional adornments to be used in girl games. They were part of being a girl just as much as skirts, lipstick and panties. Those items certainly were not boy-things, nor were the ropes and chains. They were meant for females. Pamela would leave Avondale feeling odd without some sort of confinement on her limbs somewhere. A girl became used to it and it seemed wrong without. If necessary, she would find some bits of rope or chain at home and affix them herself if she couldn't find someone else to do it.