Anonymous - A Man With A Maid II

“He never once gave you pleasure in all the time he made love to you?” I demanded.

She shook her head, her blushes deepening.

“Well, he was a fool, and you were a greater fool to tolerate him for three years.” I harshly stated. “So after all I did not lie to you when I wrote you that note saying that I had information involving your future happiness. For, Marion, I propose in the time ahead of us to initiate you into the unknown mysteries of passion which will surely gratify you as much as they will me. But you must make up your mind that there will be also some pain, and that will be your punishment. Do you agree to this?”

“What-what else can I do, s-sir?” she faintly quavered.

As I released the soft curly sprig of intimate hair, I put my forefinger boldly through the mossy fur and touched the petulant fleshy lips of her cunt, and I said: “Now you are showing wisdom. And in due course I will show you the mercy you have implored.”

So saying, I went to the cupboard and procured the glove-box of feathers and the springy whip, and resumed my place behind her. Taking up the whip first, I put my left hand to the back of her neck, and I demanded, “When you and Alice went to school, Marion, were you ever birched or caned?”

“N-no, o-only on my hands once,” she said in a faint trembling voice.

“Suppose,” I pursued ironically, “you had slapped your teacher? How many strokes do you think you should have received then?”

“Oh dear!” she groaned, “More than I could bear, I’m sure of it!”

“And then if you had spat in her face-”

“Oh please, don’t torture me so! If-if you must have your revenge, take it, while I still have the courage to endure it! But if you only knew how uncomfortable I am, how all my limbs ache, you would show kindness and put an end to it,” she sobbed.

“Very well, I shall pronounce sentence. For the slap, eight good cuts with the whip on your naked behind.”

“Oh! Oh dear!”

“For spitting, twice as many, half to be inflicted on your naked bottom, the other half on the fronts of your thighs. You may prepare yourself, Marion, and I shall keep exact count, because this being your first whipping, I very much doubt your ability to retain an accurate accounting.”

I pushed her lovely cascading black hair to one side so that I could grip her neck firmly with my left hand and, standing off to the left and with the whip in my right, raised it slowly so that she could not help but see it in the mirror in front of her. She uttered a sob, closed her eyes, and tensed herself with all her might. The lovely play of her muscles under the rippling satiny olive skin was enchantment itself. My cock was as hard as it had been at the very start of our afternoon in the Snuggery. But now there was a difference. Now I had learned much of Marion’s secret nature, and now I could proceed undaunted to adapt and to shape it as Pygmalion fashioned his immortal Galatea, to my very own whims and fancies and lusts!

I kept Marion waiting a long, languishing moment with my whip upraised and my left hand gripping the back of her slim neck. I must say that she showed now more bravery than could have been expected after her emotional breakdown and her confessional. I daresay if I had been thoroughly pacific with my intentions, I could have shown a nobility of character by forgiving her and releasing her and then cozening her into making love with me. But I think I correctly estimated that this would be a show of weakness on my part in turn and that she might try to regain her lost terrain and be haughtier than ever with me. No, I must harden my heart-just as my cock was hardened!-and proceed to a thorough subjugation of my beautiful sister-in-law to be.

At last I brought the whip down rather smartly across the top of her hips. It made a soft smacking sound, but it left no mark, although Marion sucked in her breath and nervously jerked, perhaps more from the torturing suspense than from the first stripe itself. “That is one,” I counted aloud. She bent her head, closed her eyes, while I stared over her shoulder at the mirror, feasting my vision to the utmost. You cannot have any idea how really mouthwateringly tasty Alice’s sister was, standing there stark naked except for her black stockings and the flouncy rosette garters, her legs slightly spread apart, her arms drawn up so high that her pectoral muscles were in fine bold relief, and the uptilting insolent pears of her bubbies surged out with a really dazzling elegance as if she would not be ashamed to enter them in a contest of love goddesses-including glorious Venus herself! Indeed, she would not have come off too badly in such a contest, in my private opinion.

I dealt the second cut a little lower down, just over the tops of her prominent firm bottom ovals, and I enjoyed the sight of the lash clinging across those tensing hemispheres and the tip flicking round towards her tender groin. Marion gasped a little more loudly this time, nervously tried to shift from foot to foot, and dragged on her wrists. From the way her sides were trembling, and I could see the lovely ribcage plainly outlined against her taut warm olive skin, I knew that she must really be fatigued from the long duration of her atonement. But as this would join in the overall stress upon her nerves and her psyche to bring me the most delicious nuances of voluptuous gratification, I again hardened my heart and directed the third cut about an inch below the place where the second lash had kissed.

Her hips gave an involuntary swerve to this side, and to that; her head tilted back a little and her eyes opened. Intently following the reflection of her features-as well as her body to be sure!-in the huge mirror in front of her, I perceived that they were full of tears and that her nostrils were beginning again to dilate rather rapidly.

I did not keep her waiting for the fourth cut, but applied it almost instantly thereafter, yet exactly over the last place attacked. A reiterative stroke on bare flesh which has already been sensitized produces much more than a double effect of irksome heat, which radiates throughout the entire feminine nervous system and thus aggrandizes the suffering-and also the voluptuous titillations which a whipping always produces in a female of any sensitivity whatsoever, as any connoisseur of flagellation can tell you from experience.

The fifth lash took a little longer, and Marion nervously glanced back for a second, then again bowed her head and stiffened herself. It cut directly across the plumpest curves of both naked hindquarters, producing a faint sob of “Aahh!” and a convulsive squirming which I found maddeningly stimulating to my roused and now again savagely excited cock.

I made her wait almost a minute for the sixth lash, which wrapped the soft-substanced whip around the base of that mouthwateringly contoured backside of hers and possibly may have darted the tip of the lash in toward her furry gap, for she lunged to the left, sticking her bottom practically back at my swollen prick, while with a plaintive groan she entreated, “Ohh, please, please, s-sir, it hurts, it hurts!”

“To be sure it does, Marion, and it is meant to. What will it be, I wonder, when you receive your final eight strokes across the fronts of your thighs? You may ponder on that question while I complete the first portion of your whipping,” I said. I now applied the two final cuts of that first sentence of eight lashes for the slap, placing them straight across, once more, the jounciest region of the summits of her naked olive-satiny behind. She groaned and sobbed a little, twisted and jerked, but in the main I had to admit that she had borne her eight strokes with relatively good grace, far better than a naughty teen-ager would have done if bent over a desk to receive chastisement for poor lessons or inattentiveness or rudeness to her mistress.