F. Campbell - Slave Girl and the lash

"You'll have to wash me, y'know," I told him, still hinting. He loved it. I stood naked and handcuffed in his damn kitchen while he soaped and laved and rinsed me from a big bowl of hot water. My breasts and puss got lathered and rinsed until I began to pant. I mean, I'm only human and a girl! So I got fucked again and then another bath. I sure did get hungry.

"I'll whip ye today, Phemie gal'." My most recent owner exulted over the bacon and eggs. "We'll have ourselves a day!"

"You're terribly kind, Mr. Hennery." That remark would have got me at least six from Yolanda. It was pure sarcasm. But I don't think Hennery had ever heard the word. It slid right off.

"I'll tie you up in different ways."

"How nice!"

"I got a couple of whips and a good long crop. There's a cane around somewhere."

"I take it you do have lady visitors?" He looked faintly guilty. "There's a gal' on one of the farms, she'll let a chap have a go at her for a few quid."

"Is there a going rate?"

"Never less nor a fiver with Daisy. Can't rightly afford it."

"Must be a nice change for you to have me for nothing!"

"I ain't cheap, I ain't!" He eyed me sternly. "If you say the word I'll set aside a pound or so every time I lace into you. Surprise you the way it 'ud mount up." His well meant last words were not reassuring. "What would I do with the money?" I asked innocently. "I'm going to be handcuffed here for the rest of my life, aren't I?"

"I see what you mean," he acknowledged sagely. "Well, I'll get you a few things from the village sometimes. Not clothes, of course!"

"Wouldn't you like a nice ribbon in my hair?"

"I'd have to tie the bow meself," he said doubtfully. Then, in a burst of inspiration: "Wonder how it 'ud be to tie your elbows and ankles with some lovely blue ribbon!" Away we go again! Hennery was a new experience. "That would be fun," I said, and genuinely meant it. Maybe if he bought enough ribbon someone might begin to wonder. The barn was to be my place of punishment. "Seems more proper, like," Hennery proclaimed with stern morality. I was led to the place of execution like a criminal to justice. A rope round my neck and a tether, of all things!

"Saves you doing something silly." He explained the indignity.

"You do look after a girl awfully well, Mr. Hennery," I gushed. I was determined to keep whatever was between us on as light a plane as repartee and sweet innocence could contrive. My captor was oblivious of both sarcasm and subtlety. My problem would be the amount of pain he would inflict on my blameless flesh. I had an awful fear that should I degenerate into incoherent screaming he would get angry and lay on all the harder. It was hard to be cheerful, but I tried.

"Won't the handcuffs stop you getting at my back!" I asked hintingly.

"There's always your front, lass."

"And I suppose my bottom?"

"Right you are! Damn sensible gal'."

"Why do so many men enjoy whipping girls?" I've always been curious about this one myself. Yolanda and I often talked about it. It's easy to think of a lot of reasons, but they can't be proved and not everyone would agree with them. My naive query caused my captor to slow down and rub his stubble.

"Well now!" He pondered and eyed me suspiciously. "Never really thought 'bout it. Young Daisy asked me the same thing once while I was warming up her backside, but she's a cheeky baggage, so I just give her a few extra hard to shut her up. "Now you come out with it! All I can say is it's natural, ain't it! I mean ter say… what's a girl's bottom for!"

"We do sit on them."

"So do men, but no one wants to cane their rumps."

"We're going to your stable now so that you can cane and whip me, Mr. Hennery. It must do something for you. What is it?"

"Gives me a hard on." He stated the obvious with relish.

"But just me does that for you, Mr. Hennery."

"Yer never said a truer word, lass. I got a shocker on right now. Lay yourself down and open them pretty legs." I abandoned my psychological probings, and disposed myself on the ground in the middle of his barnyard. Mr. Hennery acquitted himself with extreme vigor. I suppose it was the stimulation of our conversation. After we resumed a vertical posture and my captor was thoughtfully brushing dried hen droppings from the places I could not reach, he enlarged on what I could see might become a favorite topic.

"Have you ever had your cunt whipped, lass?"

"I didn't know anyone did such things," I lied demurely. "Idea just come, Phemie gal'. There you was with your legs wide open and your little fig standing out as pretty as a picture. Never realized how plump and pouting them things were. With yer thighs apart there's a lot more room to get at yer than I ever knowed."

"You'd have to have a girl upside down," I exclaimed with imprudent humor.

"We'll do it!" Hennery made the declaration in much the same manner in which someone had announced an intent to land on the moon. I wished I'd kept my mouth shut. Upside down! Yolanda would say I deserved all I got.

"You're so clever," I said without enthusiasm. The stable smell was familiar. We dispossessed a bored goat from the stall wherein I had spent the night. Even to my uninspired eyes it was evident the place offered innumerable possibilities for tying a girl in both conventional and original exposures. Hennery's recent attention to my sex had not dampened my usual sensations. They responded with a warmth I was glad he could not see.

"A good caning on your bottom, lass. It will do us both good." His statement was too absurd to deserve an answer. I hedged by giving him a girlish "Thank you, Mr. Hennery."

"I am going to drape you over a partition, Phemie."

"Thank you, Mr. Hennery. Can I help?"

"You could get up there," he said dryly. "Here's a box." I stood on the box and leant forward. The top of the partition was level with my puss. "It's going to hurt, Mr. Hennery, and I may fall on over — I haven't any hands."

"You stop complaining 'bout hands," Hennery said firmly.

"Them handcuffs stay on. I like 'em." He surveyed my pubic hair critically, then folded my faithful rug and placed it for my comfort. "Give me another idea, that has. But for striping yer bottom ye might as well be comfortable. I'll tie yer feet now, that'll help." He would never be aware of inconsistencies or contradictions. Quaintly enough, the tying of my ankles tightly to a lower plank gave me the anchorage to bend over so that my puss was on the padded rug and my behind well up in the air. He took away the box. "This is terribly uncomfortable," I daringly demurred.

"It's in a good cause," said Mr. Hennery. He studied my predicament. "Got to do summat' with them hands." I eschewed comment, I was biased. But my owner needed no help. He fastened rope to my handcuffs, threw it over a beam and pulled. My hands and arms rose away from the rest of me. I bent even further forward to ease the strain on my shoulders. "Why, damn me if I couldn't even whip yer back, lass!" my captor exulted in discovery. My wrists hurt, my puss was crushed. I could not move a thing that mattered, certainly not my behind. It pleaded for the whip.

"Got any preference, Phemie?" Hennery tossed a cane and a crop on the straw within my extremely limited range of vision. Both made me cringe. Daisy must be a girl of character if she did this for money. I did not like the look of the limber crop. "The cane please, Mr. Hennery," I requested gratefully.

"Must say I like yer attitude, gal'." My bottom was sliced by fire. I gasped and jerked. "Caught yer unawares, eh!" As though he'd been clever.

"Gee, that hurt," I said honestly.

"Try this one, lass." A different spot, a second agony, a raging fire. I could not ignore the obvious. I was positioned so that my puss got the full effect of everything. She was responding healthily. The rug imposed its rough contact under my weight, each jerk made it seem alive.