"Comfy?"
She wriggled and tested her wrists and ankles against their silk bindings. They were firmly held, not tight enough to cut circulation, but loose enough to cause chafing.
"Hmm."
Angelica surveyed the form of the naked girl spread-eagled face down on the leather topped bench, securely fastened to its four legs.
She swished her cane gently as she paced, as if testing its strength against the air.
“You are quite silly in the way you take such risks to yourself.”
Susan looked back over her shoulder, the unspoken question in her eyes.
Angelica bent down and spoke quietly in her ear. “Last week, you had no idea who I was, and within ten minutes of us meeting, you were being whacked with a riding crop. Once you were tied to that stable wall, I could have picked up a bull whip and hurt you very badly.”
Susan lifted her shoulders slightly, the best she could do for a shrug in the circumstances, and said “But you didn’t.”
Angelica tapped her own calf with the cane in annoyance. She was bathed in the yellow light of a single light bulb that left the walls of the cellar hidden in dark shadow. There was the bench, holding Susan, a dining chair on which her clothes were neatly folded, and some benches against the walls. The air was warm and still.
“I could cut you to shreds now, if I wanted to.”
“You said twelve. Twelve of the best. You won’t do more than that.”
Angelica patted Susan on the shoulder. “You must be at least 10 years younger than me, perhaps twenty two?”
“Twenty three”
“Close enough. And yet you have now twice allowed me to tie you up without knowing a thing about who I am or anything. Does anyone even know you have come here?”
“No – of course not!”
“For an adult, you are a very silly person. I think it is time you learned not to be so trusting. I take it that absence of a safe word means that you are new to doing this sort of thing?”
“What’s a safe word?”
“Wrong answer, my little pet.”
She bent down close again to speak quietly, as if sharing a confidence in a crowded room rather than in the privacy of a closed cellar.
“You know, when a Victorian schoolgirl got a beating like this, she hated every moment of it? The pain was a dreadful sensation, not the flame you enjoy. So, tell me, does the idea of her pain really, really hurting her … er …fascinate you? Does it heighten your anticipation? Would you like to actually be that Victorian schoolgirl, howling and begging because the sting was too much to bear?”
Susan closed her eyes. And then gently nodded.
“It is not impossible to make it so for you. Would you like that?”
Again, an almost imperceptible nod.
Angelica stood up. She placed her thumb on Susan’s exposed anus, and gently rotated it backwards and forwards.
Susan jerked as if an electric current had run along her limbs.
“Gently, gently! Please don't hurt me like tat…”
Fingers stroked the inside of her thighs, and then brushed lightly against her pubic hair.
“Please, I don’t want …”
“Shhh. I shall tell you a great secret. For those of us who get excited with pain ... well, for some, there is a short period after an orgasm when pain goes back to being just pain. Does that interest you?”
The fingers probed deeper. “Ah, you don’t have to say. I see that it does.”
Susan pressed herself into the leather, raising her bottom slightly and surrendered herself into the moment.
“When you get your caning, it will be twelve strokes of real fire …. It is going to hurt a lot … I bet that thought is the most exciting thing you have considered in your life time … think how much more it would be if it was more strokes …. eighteen of them … would you like eighteen instead?’
“No … no … yes. Yes I would”
“Say it properly then. Say ‘please may I have eighteen strokes of the cane.”
“Please may I have eighteen strokes of the …” The last word was lost as the longest, deepest climax she had ever experienced engulfed her.
“Of course you may.”
Susan opened her eyes, and tried to take stock.
“Right, and now back to the business in hand,” said Angelica. “Erm … do you want to go back to the original twelve we agreed on?”
“Yes! Yes please!”
“Just testing – You're not going to enjoy the next few minutes as much as I. am… You need to learn, you need to learn not to put yourself in such mortal bloody danger. And I'll now teach you. One thing - do not beg for mercy. I hate that. So don't do it.”
Susan felt the cane rest across the center of her bottom. “Please don’t” she whispered, almost to herself.
“Always”
Whack! An inward grunt of pain.
“Have”
Whack! A mew of despair, Eyes wet from brimming tears.
“A”
Whack! A yelp.
“Safe”
Whack! The first sobs, and futile wriggling
“Word”
Whack! All pretense of resistance gone, Susan cried like a Victorian schoolgirl.
“If you have a safe word you have some chance of survival. Clear?”
“Yes. Yes. Please, no more”
Now the cane resting across her bottom seemed quite cool, in comparison the heat of the welted flesh.
“Always”
Whack!
“Check”
Whack!
“Out”
Whack!
“A new”
Whack!
“Partner”
Whack!
The cuts were taken in relative silence, each stroke invoking short yelps in her constant tears and quiet moans.
“Did you get that?”
“Yes. I understand.” blurted out between sobs.
“Always”
Whack!
“Tell”
Whack!
“Some”
Whack!
“One”
Whack!
“Where”
Whack!
“You”
Whack!
“Are”
Whack!
“Going”
Whack!
“That’s it, your done.”
“Oh god, it hurts, it really, really hurts.”
First the ankles were untied.
“I thought that's what you wanted?”
“No, no, I never wanted it be like this. Not now I know.”
The wrists were released.
Susan swung upright, legs splayed out as if riding a horse, and touched her bottom gently. She then looked at her finger tips.
“No – no blood. I wanted to get a message into you, not flay you alive.” Angelica smiled.
Susan nodded. “That was a lesson I shan't forget any time soon.”
She thought for a moment and then added “Erm … next time, could you leave the massage until afterwards, please?”
She wriggled and tested her wrists and ankles against their silk bindings. They were firmly held, not tight enough to cut circulation, but loose enough to cause chafing.
"Hmm."
Angelica surveyed the form of the naked girl spread-eagled face down on the leather topped bench, securely fastened to its four legs.
She swished her cane gently as she paced, as if testing its strength against the air.
“You are quite silly in the way you take such risks to yourself.”
Susan looked back over her shoulder, the unspoken question in her eyes.
Angelica bent down and spoke quietly in her ear. “Last week, you had no idea who I was, and within ten minutes of us meeting, you were being whacked with a riding crop. Once you were tied to that stable wall, I could have picked up a bull whip and hurt you very badly.”
Susan lifted her shoulders slightly, the best she could do for a shrug in the circumstances, and said “But you didn’t.”
Angelica tapped her own calf with the cane in annoyance. She was bathed in the yellow light of a single light bulb that left the walls of the cellar hidden in dark shadow. There was the bench, holding Susan, a dining chair on which her clothes were neatly folded, and some benches against the walls. The air was warm and still.
“I could cut you to shreds now, if I wanted to.”
“You said twelve. Twelve of the best. You won’t do more than that.”
Angelica patted Susan on the shoulder. “You must be at least 10 years younger than me, perhaps twenty two?”
“Twenty three”
“Close enough. And yet you have now twice allowed me to tie you up without knowing a thing about who I am or anything. Does anyone even know you have come here?”
“No – of course not!”
“For an adult, you are a very silly person. I think it is time you learned not to be so trusting. I take it that absence of a safe word means that you are new to doing this sort of thing?”
“What’s a safe word?”
“Wrong answer, my little pet.”
She bent down close again to speak quietly, as if sharing a confidence in a crowded room rather than in the privacy of a closed cellar.
“You know, when a Victorian schoolgirl got a beating like this, she hated every moment of it? The pain was a dreadful sensation, not the flame you enjoy. So, tell me, does the idea of her pain really, really hurting her … er …fascinate you? Does it heighten your anticipation? Would you like to actually be that Victorian schoolgirl, howling and begging because the sting was too much to bear?”
Susan closed her eyes. And then gently nodded.
“It is not impossible to make it so for you. Would you like that?”
Again, an almost imperceptible nod.
Angelica stood up. She placed her thumb on Susan’s exposed anus, and gently rotated it backwards and forwards.
Susan jerked as if an electric current had run along her limbs.
“Gently, gently! Please don't hurt me like tat…”
Fingers stroked the inside of her thighs, and then brushed lightly against her pubic hair.
“Please, I don’t want …”
“Shhh. I shall tell you a great secret. For those of us who get excited with pain ... well, for some, there is a short period after an orgasm when pain goes back to being just pain. Does that interest you?”
The fingers probed deeper. “Ah, you don’t have to say. I see that it does.”
Susan pressed herself into the leather, raising her bottom slightly and surrendered herself into the moment.
“When you get your caning, it will be twelve strokes of real fire …. It is going to hurt a lot … I bet that thought is the most exciting thing you have considered in your life time … think how much more it would be if it was more strokes …. eighteen of them … would you like eighteen instead?’
“No … no … yes. Yes I would”
“Say it properly then. Say ‘please may I have eighteen strokes of the cane.”
“Please may I have eighteen strokes of the …” The last word was lost as the longest, deepest climax she had ever experienced engulfed her.
“Of course you may.”
Susan opened her eyes, and tried to take stock.
“Right, and now back to the business in hand,” said Angelica. “Erm … do you want to go back to the original twelve we agreed on?”
“Yes! Yes please!”
“Just testing – You're not going to enjoy the next few minutes as much as I. am… You need to learn, you need to learn not to put yourself in such mortal bloody danger. And I'll now teach you. One thing - do not beg for mercy. I hate that. So don't do it.”
Susan felt the cane rest across the center of her bottom. “Please don’t” she whispered, almost to herself.
“Always”
Whack! An inward grunt of pain.
“Have”
Whack! A mew of despair, Eyes wet from brimming tears.
“A”
Whack! A yelp.
“Safe”
Whack! The first sobs, and futile wriggling
“Word”
Whack! All pretense of resistance gone, Susan cried like a Victorian schoolgirl.
“If you have a safe word you have some chance of survival. Clear?”
“Yes. Yes. Please, no more”
Now the cane resting across her bottom seemed quite cool, in comparison the heat of the welted flesh.
“Always”
Whack!
“Check”
Whack!
“Out”
Whack!
“A new”
Whack!
“Partner”
Whack!
The cuts were taken in relative silence, each stroke invoking short yelps in her constant tears and quiet moans.
“Did you get that?”
“Yes. I understand.” blurted out between sobs.
“Always”
Whack!
“Tell”
Whack!
“Some”
Whack!
“One”
Whack!
“Where”
Whack!
“You”
Whack!
“Are”
Whack!
“Going”
Whack!
“That’s it, your done.”
“Oh god, it hurts, it really, really hurts.”
First the ankles were untied.
“I thought that's what you wanted?”
“No, no, I never wanted it be like this. Not now I know.”
The wrists were released.
Susan swung upright, legs splayed out as if riding a horse, and touched her bottom gently. She then looked at her finger tips.
“No – no blood. I wanted to get a message into you, not flay you alive.” Angelica smiled.
Susan nodded. “That was a lesson I shan't forget any time soon.”
She thought for a moment and then added “Erm … next time, could you leave the massage until afterwards, please?”
No comments:
Post a Comment