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“Kiss it, little one.” She did. “Why am I whipping you tonight, Chloe?”
“You are demonstrating the nature of our relationship, Master. You own me. I’m yours. You are proving it. You are whipping your new wife, because you can. You are showing me the way it will be now that we are husband and wife.”
I wanted to tell her that her answer was lovely, but that would have been too nice of me. Instead, I pulled my arm back and slashed her tits again. She could no longer hide the pain. She screamed. The skin on her breasts was now fiery red, and surely stinging like hell. Then I whipped her again. And again.
“How many was that, slut?”
“Twenty-two, Master.”
Chloe knew that one of her responsibilities during every whipping was to count the strikes. It was never easy: enduring the pain, and during it all, concentrating enough to keep track.
“What do you think…should the next one be soft, medium or crazy-hard?” I was messing with her. This was a no-win situation. If she asks for the lenient one she disappoints me. If she asks for the hard one, she brings more intense pain onto herself. And medium – well, that’s just a cop out.
She paused, but then answered: “Crazy-hard Master. Hit me as hard as you want.”
“If you insist,” I responded. *SLASH*
By the time the thirtieth strike was over, Chloe was deep in subspace. She was in the zone. Her breasts were a crisscross of welts. Her nipples were still stiff, but the lightest touch was agony. I put the flogger down.
“Thank-you Master,” I heard from behind me.
“Thank-you? Thank-you? When do you normally say thank-you, Chloe?”
“When the whipping is over, Master. You said thirty strikes. It’s been thirty strikes.”
You should have seen the look on her face when I told her it was thirty with the flogger. She still had twenty to endure with the riding crop, and then ten with the School Master cane. She was only half-way through the whipping.
“Oh fuck,” she whispered.
I used the riding crop all over her body. I delivered a couple of wicked strikes on her inner thighs, a few directly on her tummy. I whacked the side of her thighs. I even delivered a pair on the underside of her left breast, and then, two more on the underside of her right breast. She went to the moon and back with pain after those ones.
With two strikes left, I asked her one of those no-win questions: “Where do you want these last two, on your nipples or somewhere else?”
She chose ‘somewhere else’. Her nipples were far too sore. The flogger had done its job well. She didn’t want any more mistreatment there. Poor girl. I made sure she second-guessed her decision. I made her spread her legs, and I used the tongue of the crop to smack her open pussy lips. Her clit surely took some of the impact. I swung from the ground upward, and I flicked my wrist just before the crop made contact to increase the sting.
After that, we needed a break.
I untied Chloe’s wrists and she slumped down onto the floor, landing on her knees with an audible thud. The front of her body was decorated with the attention of my first two whips. Immediately my cock, rock hard since the minute she arrived home, found its way into her mouth.
She wanted to please me so badly, her mouth devoured my manhood. She sucked my cock like it was her whole world. I’d never seen Chloe so submissive. She went down so far onto me that the head of my cock pushed deep into the back of her throat. Then, she planted a series of kisses all over the head before sucking it and bopping up and down on it. She lapped at my shaft. At one point, I used my finger tips to feed her my cock head. She was so devoted, so enthusiastic, she sucked my fingers into her mouth, alongside my cock. Her mouth was like a vacuum cleaner, happy and willing to suck anything I put in front of it.
My hands gripped her head firmly as I orgasmed, fucking her mouth aggressively as she sucked away at me. She swallowed every drop like a good girl. With her left hand she cradled my balls, while she coaxed one last dollop of cum out of my cock by squeezing my shaft the same way someone squeezes that last bit of toothpaste out of the tube.
While I will admit a part of me wanted to sweep her into my arms and tell her how much I loved her and how proud I was that she endured the first part of her whipping, I didn’t want to slip out of Dom mode. I was in heaven and wanted to keep up the momentum. So with my fingers still entangled in her hair, I lead her out of the den, and toward our bedroom.
Once in the bedroom, I pulled her up over the seating bench that was at the end of our wrought iron bed. Chloe had been on similar benches during previous sessions. Surely she knew what was coming. Her ass was my next target. I’d let her think about that while I casually walked back toward the den to retrieve the rattan cane that was certain to bring her dreadful pain and agony.
On the way back I swatted it against my hand in an even pace, making sure I did so loudly enough that she could hear it. *Swat* *Swat* *Swat* Mental torture. So much fun.
She arched her lower back, pushing her butt up into the air the way that models and porn stars do. She was giving me a perfect target, enhancing the curves of her ass to look as enticing as possible. For a second, I worried she might be too far into subspace, and that I was pushing her too far.
As if reading my mind, she encouraged me: “Punish my ass with that cane Master. I deserve it.”
Normally I don’t tolerate such topping from below, but I understood she wanted to ensure I recognized her total submission and willingness to continue. I brought the cane down hard across her ass.
*CRACK!!!*
Three more times, with breaks in between, that cane came crashing down on her ass.
*CRACK.* *CRACK* *CRACK!!*
I was expertly spacing each strike about an inch below the previous, perfectly parallel. The welts were instantly visible. Vivid red stripes, which began to swell within seconds of delivery. She would have difficulty sitting for a week after this session. I was careful not to overlap, for fear of breaking the skin.
*CRACK* *SLASH*
The seventh strike hit the back of her thighs, and she screamed.
I then took the cane and laid it to rest across her back while I went to get a glass of water. On the way to the kitchen I couldn’t help but notice how hard I was again. The blowjob had given me temporary relief, but I was ready to go again. I drank some water myself, but mostly I was here to get some for Chloe. When I held the glass to her lips, she slurped at it greedily.
I picked up the cane from its resting place on her back, and with my free hand, I rubbed her ass. I was gentle, but she jumped when my palm made contact with the welts. I could literally feel them. The skin was raised where the wood had made impact. The last strike I had delivered across the back of her thighs was so pronounced, it almost appeared bruise-like. Within a day it would be bruised, no doubt.
There were three strikes left.
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“Turn over,” I said, matter of factly. “I want to see how well your tummy can tolerate the cane.”
Without further instruction, she knew the position I desired. She knelt on the floor backing up into the bench, and then bent backward arching her back to rest her upper back on the seat. Chloe was bending like a bow – her stomach stretched in that inviting way.
I touched the cane lightly on her skin. I was about two inches above her navel. I tapped her lightly there, as if to say ‘Get ready, this is where it’s landing.’ Her breathing was labored. She was holding her breath, then sucking in air in big gasps. My poor Chloe was a nervous wreck.
“Relax, breathe evenly,” I reminded her. Then, I brought the cane down across her soft defenseless tummy. She broke position. She couldn’t help it. She screamed, and her hands began to furiously rub the welt that was rising. I was tempted to toss the cane away and end the session early when she mustered up all her energy and returned into position.
My perfect little sub apologized: “Sorry for breaking position Master. Please can I have another?”
The second strike was a repeat of the first except that it was two inches below the navel. Chloe’s reaction was also similar. There was one last strike remaining. One more and the whipping was over.
“You have a choice for the last one, Chloe. I can set aside the cane right now, but if I do so, I will fuck your ass. On the other hand, if you choose to accept the last strike, I will fuck your pussy instead. The only thing is…the last strike will be delivered directly across your nipples.”
My darling wife blinked away tears and looked confused. Her brain wasn’t functioning properly from being so deep into subspace. She was near collapse. Emotional collapse.
She slurred her words and mumbled: “Hit ‘em, hit my nipples, do it…I need your cock, hit me.”
I did. I laid that thin rattan cane directly across her nipples. She screamed louder than I’d ever heard her scream before. The whipping was over. I picked my baby up and carried her around to the bed where I laid her down gently. Her hips were gyrating with need. She was mumbling for me to fuck her.
