Robert Taylor: Whipped bitch

"You horny child!" Barbara said with a laugh, breaking from the kiss, mouthing her throat. "Come now, we have our wine to drink." She grasped Janey's earring chain and lifted her away.

Janey had put her glass on the floor. She retrieved it. "If you loved me – as I do you – not that I ask it…"

"Don't," Barbara said, rather coldly. "Love is for equals. For you and me, sex will suffice. Still, I do feel affection for you. Now drink your wine."

Janey obeyed. Though Barbara had spoken harshly, Janey had felt a thrill at knowing they were not equals. Of course not! She was Barbara's slave. That was the important thing. And the wine, she found, was not only delicious but suffused her body with a new warmth, a languor, a peace.

"Of course we're not equals. I'm your Ribbon Girl." Then, smiling, Janey gazed down at their breasts, at her pink-capped white melons facing the berry-red nipples of Barbara's sun-browned tits. She cupped her own right breast and pressed it to the facing one, rubbing her nipple around Barbara's areola.

"Finish the wine," Barbara said.

The glass was large. Draining it, Janey put it and Barbara's on the floor. She tried to embrace, but Barbara grasped her chain, steered her, forced her down until Janey lay with her head on the gold apron, looking up between her lover's breasts.

Soft fingers stroked her forehead, then combed into her hair. Janey pressed her mouth to soft belly flesh, kissing it.

Her eyes closed. Utterly content Janey lay with her head on Barbara's lap. She could smell, faintly, the girl's femaleness, the slight but heady odor of her cunt.

A hand fell on Janey's breast, the palm rubbing her turgid nipple.

"Janey, you're content?"

She nodded vigorously.

A sigh. "There are moments like this. Not many. Tomorrow you'll start closed-room work. It may be harsh."

Janey didn't care. She nuzzled in firmer to her sweetheart's loins. She could sleep here, but did not want to sleep, wound her arms around sleek, cushiony hips and hugged, burying her face in belly.

"Raise up," Barbara said, a snap to her voice. "Suck my breasts."

Janey frowned. The sharp command was not necessary. It sounded as though her lover were trying to conceal her own affection through harshness. But Janey raised on an elbow. Barbara bent over her, breasts hanging.

When Barbara's nipple reached Janey's mouth; she closed her lips on the thick peg, pulled. The other's arm cradled her head. Thus, like a baby, she sucked the rubbery tit-end, opened her mouth and gulped more in, and licked what was in her mouth.

"Ahh-hh! So good! Janey, suck hard. My tits need pulling out, stretching. Oh, and licking. Lick my nipples!"

Janey's eyes closed and happily she mouthed and pulled and licked the succulent tit. She felt a hand grasp her own tits, clutching the ends of them together and tugging. She cupped her hand on the other brown breast and kneaded it, then moved to suck the tip of it.

"I'm getting hot," Barbara panted. "God, your sucking pulls right down to my cunt!" She hugged Janey's head in, groaning, and more vigorously now pulled Janey's nipples until they felt as long as a cow's tits. Luscious! Oh, wonderful!

Letting go the left breast, Janey rubbed her face over the firm orbs.

Abruptly Barbara cried, "Enough. That's enough, Ribbon Girl. You may undress me now."

Janey drew back. She looked down at the apron patch. There was a catch to one side. She squeezed it and the chain came free.

She had already guessed that Barbara had a mere tuft of pubic hair; Janey's own wide bush would never have been concealed by the tiny gold apron. But she saw only suntanned flesh, a protruding mound that was completely sleek and hairless. And her crotch was the same! She saw only flesh, cunt-lips free of hair.

"You're shaved!" Janey gasped. "Yes," Barbara said indifferently. "But are all Apron Girls shaved?"

There was no answer. Looking up, she saw Barbara's eyes narrowed with rage.

"You've been told so many times not to ask questions!"

"But… but… I was surprised…"

"Get the whip from the table."

Janey burst into tears. "But, Barbara…"

"Miss Barbara! That's two lashes!"

Cowering, weeping, Janey moved shakily toward the table, so broken by fear that she felt a dribble of piss on her thigh. And when she touched the handle of the whip, her bladder swelled and only by crossing her legs could she keep it from spraying out.

"I have to pee so bad!"

"Later. I'll teach you to control that, too. Bring me the whip!"

Pressing a hand to her crotch to hold in the piss, she grasped the whip handle, took it to her Apron Girl. For a moment the feel of the plastic handle strengthened her. She had a weapon. But what use was it in this place without windows, where the doors had no knobs only keyholes? And Barbara did care for her, she felt sure of that. Not love, but she had shown affection. "Raise your ribbon skirt to your armpits."

Janey did that, squeezing her thighs together, desperately telling herself, Miss Barbara won't hurt me! She's been sweet, she won't whip me hard! Thus, she fought the fear that was squeezing her bladder.

"My, but you're hairy-cunted!"

Janey saw herself in the wall mirror behind her, tears glistening on her cheeks, caning chain hanging on the ribbons streaming down her breasts. Thick hair between her legs – all that hair looked gross now. She had always been pleased with her mop of crotch hair. Boys had thought it terrifically sexy. But now her vision was entirely shaped to his woman she adored – and feared – and she wished she were like her, shaven, with a cunt as smooth as a child's.

A rivulet of piss dribbled down her thigh.

"On your knees," Barbara commanded, pointing at the floor with her whip handle.

Whimpering, Janey dropped down on hands and knees, her ass at the level of her lover's knees.

"You are riot to piss until I say to!" Barbara snapped, and when the whip sang through the air.

Janey bit her lip and a dozen streaks of fire curled about her buttocks, dug in, tore, each knot sinking into her flesh.

Despite her clenched jaw, she screamed in pain.

And again. "For not calling me Miss Barbara!" The singing cords crossed previous welts, cutting deep and Janey heard her own shrill scream echoing off the walls.

Piss splashed on her leg.

"Now go squat on the john, but don't piss until I give the order," her mistress said coldly.

Janey scrambled up, clutching her pussy, ran bowlegged to the bathroom. She sat down on the toilet, still holding it in, though piss dribbled out on her fingers.

She waited. Her ass burned as though she had sat on hot coals, but the greater pain was her bursting bladder. Gritting her teeth, she fought to hold it in, choking back her cries.

"Please, now? Now can I pee? Please, darling Miss Barbara…"

It seemed hours before she heard, "Now. Go on, Miss."

Her adored mistress had spoken, and Janey's relief was so great that she laughed through tears.

It burst from her, a geyser blasting at the bowl, splashing all over her legs. Then it hosed into the water below, a loud splattering, gurgling, foaming turmoil, quarts and gallons, a flood gushing out of her.

She was still laughing. She had taken her punishment. Now would her Apron Girl love her? Take her back into those warm arms, hug and kiss her as before? Call her sweetheart, darling?

Miss Barbara spoke. "After you've washed up, come in here and lap my cunt."

Janey shivered with delight.

"Bring the decanter. I'll have more wine," Miss Barbara said.

Janey took her empty glass back to the table with the decanter. Then she began pulling the ribbon skirt down into position.

"No," her mistress said. "Leave it up. I want to study your pubic hair. There's too much of it. And yet, some clients are turned on by that. I'll have to think it over…"