Kathy Andrews - Disciplined mother

"Good! At least you aren't one of the incorrigibles we have here, girls who've prostituted themselves to every boy in town before coming here," Mike said, stroking her hair caringly.

He moved around, tightening the ropes, which made her tits stick out more provocatively. He grabbed her wrists and pulled them taut behind the post where he securely roped them with a slipknot so Krystal couldn't move them at all. Next came her ankles, Linda bending down and cording them with two firm bands encircling both ankles. One leg was placed on either side of the post, enhancing her exposure.

Krystal tried to move away from the post, easing the strain of the ropes against her body. But any kind of twist caused her more pain. In the end, she submitted, vowing to look for some kind of escape just as soon as she could.

"Now, I think we've done our job for the moment," Mike said, stepping back to admire his handiwork.

The two bound girls looked mutely at one another, companions in this mutual misery. School? Krystal could have laughed with wild derision at that thought. It was no more a school than San Quentin?

"Hurts, does it?" Linda said, stroking the side of Krystal's cheek.

"Yes. Why are you doing this to me? I haven't done anything."

"Oh, but you have, or your mother wouldn't have dreamed of sending you here," Linda countered, smacking her playfully on the ass.

Krystal winced, her buttocks jiggling from the slap.

"Besides with all the craziness going on out there in the world, a little bit of discipline certainly doesn't hurt. Your mother was a wise woman sending you here," Linda observed.

"What are you going to do to me now?" Krystal asked, her voice barely a whisper. She hated to ask the question, fearful of the answer. But not knowing was worse.

"That's up to Mike. He's put the program together for us and you. I imagine there'll be some whipping," Linda said, rubbing the back of her hand over Krystal's pussy. The girl shivered again.

"Whipping?" Krystal wailed. "But…"

"That's the way we train our girls. When you get out of here, you'll be fully prepared for the outside world," Linda said firmly.

Krystal bit her lower lip, watching as Mike pulled off his shirt, revealing his muscular torso and hairy chest. Krystal trembled, Linda's words echoing in her head. Whipping? Discipline? Would this end? She struggled against the bonds one more time, feeling the ropes cutting her belly.

The big stud was unhitching a small riding crop from a wooden hook in the wall. He tested its balance, swishing it in the air, always keeping his eyes on the trembling blonde teen.

Krystal wanted to scream for help, but managed to say quietly: "Please, no… don't touch me with that thing. I promise I'll be good."

"You say that now, but you'd change after we left you. No," he said, shaking his head with a smile, "you'll have to go through the program like all the other girls."

"No… I… aiyyyeeeeee!"

Without cocking his arm, he lashed one end of the crop savagely across Krystal's belly. The girl let out a shriek, her eyes bugging out as she jerked hard against the ropes. Never, never had she felt anything like that before in her life! Her tummy burned from the savage attack, her muscles tightening until they cramped from the effort. Moving up, he rubbed the leather against her cheek, watching her eyes pop out, her head twitching from side to side as if she had palsy. Then with another blow he slashed the crop across her left cheekbone.

"Yghghghhghghhhhh!"

The force of the blow snapped her head to the right, making her neck muscles hurt from the strain. Krystal was completely adrift, unsure of what to think, of what to do. She was terror stricken. And all the while, that horrid crop was beating her, making her cry out with pain. Prom behind her she could hear the other girl cry out in sympathy. Linda barked out a command and the sobbing stopped. Three of them, trussed up like this, and all waiting for the beat of that crop against their bodies!

Mike moved behind the post, seeing how her asscheeks spread out against it. Cocking his right arm back, he brought the riding crop down hard on her right asscheek, watching with unconcealed delight as the white flesh quickly turned red then purple. A small welt formed as Krystal let out another sobbing groan. She moved her wrists against one another, trying to force the ropes apart. All she was doing was chafing her skin badly. Mike brought down the crop a second, then a third, then a fourth time against her asscheeks, making them jiggle, crisscrossing them with long red marks and welts. Krystal howled banging her head against the post, yammering for help. Tears blinded her as she twisted and bounced against the wooden pillar behind.

Mike was warming to the work. He moved in front of the girl once more, jerking the crop down hard against her right nipple. It was as if someone had torn the nub from her tit with one blow. Krystal let out another hellish scream, the muscles bulging against her flesh. Grinding her teeth, hating them all bitterly, she felt the pain in her belly and tits throb like a raw wound.

Screwing her face into a mask of twisted hurt, Krystal slowly gained control over herself.

"Well, do you have anything to say for yourself, Krystal? Do you enjoy having this done to you? Are you starting to know the meaning of discipline?"

"Discipline? This isn't any school! You're just a bunch of sick people hurting me and the others just for your own pleasure," she blurted out.

"Hurting others, eh?" Mike said, amused by her defiance. "I like that spunk. Your mother had it. You know, your mother was the same way. She never gave in, even though I could see she was enjoying it."

"My mother? You did this to my mother?" Krystal sputtered.

"Not exactly the same thing," Mike confessed. "But close enough. Now we're going to see just how much the two of you are alike."

Krystal sagged in her bonds. Her mother! Her mother had sold her out to this man! And now she had to suffer for it! All those tears in the office. Guilt, perhaps. But not the love she thought she had.

"Bitch! Just like your mother. A bitch whore, one who needs to be taught lessons."

Mike lashed out again, nearly peeling a narrow strip of flesh from Krystal's right tit. The girl writhed with the pain of the blows. She felt the warm, sticky sweetness of her perspiration trickling along her belly. Her belly button filled with the sweat, then let it trickle down into the top of her cuntal fur. Mike looked at her, licking his lips. He remembered the mother and wondered if the daughter was half as good.

"Uhhhhhh!"

Jabbing the blunt end of the crop into her belly, he knocked the wind from her, twisting the end around and around, reddening her flesh from the friction. "Yes, you'll be fine. Just like your mother was – a whore's whore."

With that, Mike reached down and grabbed a fistful of her cuntal hair, twisting the fur and her outer labes in his fist. The tearing sensation ripped through the girl like a blunt knife. She tried jerking her legs out, tried tearing her arms from the bonds, screaming at the big man who was driving this awful pain through her again and again. When she yammered too loudly, Mike lashed the crop over her face, her lips, the taps of her tits. Krystal couldn't tell where he was beating her any longer. It was all so painful. She felt her hands going numb as the nerves bruised. Again, the girl screamed at him, dragging out curses she couldn't remember having heard.

As hard as Krystal tried to control herself, she only brought more pain to herself. The ropes cut her severely when she twisted so much. When she rose upward, the strokes of the crop crossed her nipples, burning into the tips like flaming sulfur.

"I think you're becoming aroused – just like your mother did. The more pain, the more pleasure. She found that out soon enough. And so will you," Mike said.