Unknown - Return to Avondale

Jan used a damp towel to wipe away two trickles of blood which had run down almost to the deep valley at her bottom cheeks. Kathy and Heather walked around to Pamela's back so they could see the lovely damage.

"Ooh, Pam, your whip marks are simply smashing!" said Heather.

"How nice," said Pamela caustically. "They hurt like hell, too."

Jan whisked the rubber length back and forth and it made a frightening sound.

"Geez," gasped Pamela.

"We call it the Angel's Kiss," said Jan. "Ready to really feel like a female? You'll know you're a girl when I'm done with your tits!"

"I know I'm a girl already," said Pamela. "Don't have to convince me… but, I'm ready."

Pamela never felt anything so traumatic in her life as when the Angel's Kiss had smacked into her breasts. "Smacked" was the correct word. The multi-thonged cat made a loud slashing sound. The leather whip made a cracking sound. But the Angel's Kiss made a smacking sound. It was, of course, due to where it was used. A girl's bottom, by its design, makes its own unique sound when whipped. A girl's back, much firmer, made another. A girl's breasts were not firm… they were curvy and soft. They did not crack when hit. They "smacked."

It had hurt so much, and had been such a sur- prise, that Pamela had not even cried out. Her head swung and her hair whisked and her nostrils flared.

The following strokes were not denied, however, and brought a magnificent array of moans and screams. The Angel's Kiss was not applied quickly to a girl. Each stroke was a separate punishment, applied with a lengthy pause in between to allow the girl the full pain of each blow. Jan applied each stroke with calmness, but yet with stunning force.

Pamela's breasts bounced wildly at each blow, and only when they had returned to their quiet repose did the next stroke come.

Jan aimed, of course, for the nipples each time. It wasn't that she was particularly sadistic. That's simply the way one whips a girl's breasts.

Pamela's screams were noticeably more shrill when the whining stroke did catch one or both of her nipples. She shook her head in stunned admira- tion over the seemingly endless amount of punishment that a female nipple could take. Nipples, created to dispense milk, were supposedly things of intimate sensual softness and tender design. Yet over the centuries, probably no other feminine part had been so punished, abused, and tortured, and still remained intact and sensitive. It was one of the strange mysteries of females. Pamela thought about her own. First, pierced like a sow's ear and violated with a ring. Then actually cored down the middle by another metal device, the locking pin.

Then subjected to electric current by Sabrina. Now whipped by a terrible rubber lash by Jan. Yet t,here they were, still there, and delightfully erect in a false passion produced by hurt!

Pamela had drifted off into these thoughts and had not heard Jan dialing the wall phone.

"Hello, Mrs. McNee? This is Jan Nelson… Oh, she's doing fine. Wonderful girl Matter of fact, I'm calling from our extension in the whipping suite.

Pam is getting her first real whipping right now … no… all over her… everywhere, First of many to come. She's getting to be a proper young woman, so she should begin t.o be whipped like one, don't you agree? Oh, good… I'm glad you feel that way, too. Haven't had time to write you this week, so I thought you'd like a special treat instead. You've heard the sound of a whip on a girl in movies and such… sure… so I won't bore you with that, but I'm whipping her breasts for the first time with a rubber thing we-use… yes… and I thought you might like to hear it being applied to her tits… yes, of course she yells. I'll have one of the other girls hold the phone close to Pam's front so you can hear it very clearly, and of course, her screams, too. I'll probably be well involved with Pam, so I won't pick up the phone again… yes… just hang up when you've heard enough. Bye."

Marienne McNee heard the loud smacking sound followed by her daughter's yowl. And another, and another, and another. Each moan and cry was different, but they. definitely were Pamela's!

"Owwwwww, Geez, my nipples! Yow! Whoooo- eeee! Ohhhhh!" It was enough for Marienne McNee. She wiped her brow. Then dialed Lila Carson. They made arrangements t.o get together on Saturday.

Pamela hung sweating. She hurt, but she had not wept. She finally mustered up enough courage to look down at what she thought would be ravaged breasts. They were not. They were red, but not streaked or welted, and the nipples, despite

Pamela's conviction that they were certainly lying on the floor somewhere, were still nicely in place.

Now that the burning hurt was over, Pamela once again felt a sense of peculiar pride in herself.

She had been breast-whipped like thousands of others, and like the others, found that she was still alive and not too badly hurt. More than ever now, she felt like a real woman! Yes, thought Pamela, I can accept it again and I know that I shall have to accept it again as long as I remain a female. It hadn't been too awfully bad at that, and I guess as long as a female has breasts she should expect to be whipped there.

Yet, her whipping was not over. The Angel's Kiss whined up between her legs and nestled into her sex. She whinnied like a horse. Another new emotion swept over her. It wasn't the searing pain, it was being tied so spread and open so that her most intimate place was totally helpless to prevent its punishment. Pamela shrieked at the second stroke and wanted to scream out that girls shouldn't be whipped there. There should be one sacred and inviolate place that would be free from the kiss of a whip. But she knew that girls had no such spot free from punishment. That was why girls were spread and tied like she was. But why a female whipping her there! As a female, Jan must know how it hurts a girl to be whipped there. The answer was again elementary to Pamela… that's exactly why a girl should be entrusted with the task of whipping another there. Because she knew the limits of the recipient at that place, and she knew the hurt!

Pamela took five strokes within her sex, the rubber rod splitting apart her lips at each strike, and curling up within her cleft behind to kiss briefly the puckered orifice which lay there. The Angel's Kiss had taken a few curly bits of fur from Pamela's patch.

Pamela hurt all over, yet she was still a girl, and had accepted it nicely. Also, because she was a girl, she had been aroused.

Many things contributed to Pamela's sexual condition. Things which thousands of women and girls had found before her. The pure ultimate nakedness of her spread suspension. The masochistic agony of the lashes. Her utter helplessness. The violation of her intimate parts by the whip. The knowledge that another female was doing it to her. But most of all, in Pamela's case, it was having Heather and Kathy sitting there taking in all of her nudity, her personal agony, her cries, her torture. She knew now why other girls were made to watch. It intensified a girl's whipping terribly, and made it totally sexual to know that other girls were receiving sexual delight from her punishment! It was like having girls watch when you were raped. All of these things contributed to Pamela's wetness and rising heat.

Jan was most aware of this. The pussy lashes had been the frosting on the cake, naturally. That was why she had saved Pamela's behind for last.

Pamela was nearly there!

The cat swished and flattened its thongs around Pamela's cheeks. Pamela ignored the hurt. It didn't matter now. She knew she was almost at Utopia, and the stinging cat;lashes merely intensified it. She looked at Heather and Kathy and moaned, her face flushed. They were still both looking at her whipping, but Heather had her arm around Kathy and was holding a breast. Kathy had her hand down inside Heather's blue panties and Pamela could hear the squishing noise, The utter knowledge that two girls were totally turned on because of her was the breaking point! She felt it coming.