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“I’m going to whip you Tessa,” she whispered, “because sometimes it’s all that I can think about. With your lithe little figure traipsing about the apartment, flirting with me, sometimes I want to brutalize this fragrant thing of yours.” She grabbed Tessa’s cunt with her free hand. “You’re a shameless tramp, a brazen, shameless tramp.”
Tessa breathed deeply, trying to hold back a host of vile things she was thinking. How could Martine talk this way? What had she possibly done to deserve so much malice? Had they not made love a dozen times? Had she not given herself to Martine, almost without question? Had they not called each other friend?
“And you know my little tramp?” Martine continued, “I believe you want me to take you this way, but you’re too cowardly to ask. Isn’t that true?”
“No. It’s not true!” she snarled her reply.
Martine laughed. “I knew you’d say that, you little floozy. But guess what?” Tessa tried to pull from her grasp, but the bitch held her tight. “You will admit it to me before I’m finished with you.”
Tessa wanted to shout, “NEVER!” But it was a dangerous assertion that she was smart enough to keep to herself.
Martine let go of her chin and stood up, glaring contemptuously at her slave.
“A pillow under her ass,” she said as she turned away.
Miles was enthralled by the performance, his crotch aching, tortured with desire—though the scene had only begun. Following the orders of the mistress in charge, he took a pillow from the head of the bed and shoved it under Tessa’s hips, lifting her cunt to the precise height that suited her Domme.
“Perfect,” the bitch cooed.
Tessa’s exposed cunt dangled over the edge of the settee so that nothing was bared from view, and nothing would be protected from the whip.
“Tie her legs open,” Martine orde
red, “I don’t want her squirming away.”
“Please no,” Tessa pleaded.
Miles ignored her protestation. Taking several lengths of rope, he tied her feet to the legs of the couch, and then tied her knees open wide. Finished, he leaned over her bound body and kissed her cheek gently. “You’re doing this for me and for yourself, ” he whispered quietly, then backed away.
Tessa’s attention was quickly diverted to Martine. The bitch stood to one side of her with a witch-like face and a triumphant grin. Behind the mockery in her eye, there was a hypnotic beauty about her haughty appearance—something Tessa had seen before, something that attracted to her the woman, at the same mystifying her. Seeing her beauty now made her less afraid, as if she was acknowledging a bond between them that she hadn’t wanted to accept before. Accepting it now, her surrender to Martine seemed fated.
Martine held the buggy whip in her hand—the same one Miles used to mark her ass. She whispered softly, “Remember what I said—you will confess your desire before I’m through.” Stepping off the platform, she took her place in front and began.
Thwack! The whip cut quickly through the air, landing on high on Tessa’s inner thigh. The wounded submissive shrieked, just as the next cut sizzled exactly as the first, though this one landed on her plump pink labia.
“Gaaaawwwd noooooo!” Tessa tried to buck her hips away from the next strike, but the bonds held her fast.
Thwack! Thwack! Martine picked up speed. There was no time between cuts for Tessa to relax. She howled in pain, as each cut added such a horrid sensation, she feared she would pass out from pain. Seeing Tessa’s agony, Martine abruptly stopped the beating for a moment.
“Calm yourself, little one, I’ve only begun.” Martine waltzed about Tessa’s recuperating body. “You’ll take much more of this before you’re through.”
She began again, peeling off a steady stream of cuts, aimed at the centerpiece of Tessa’s life, her cunt—not particularly planning any specific assault, but letting each blow land at will on the tender inner thighs, on the reddening labia, and even on the tip of a clitoris that peeked out between the protective flaps of flesh.
“Oh gawwwd, nooooooo, pleassssse, noooooooo, auuuuugg!” she tried to twist away, with no success—squirming, she barely moved an inch. The pain continued to mount, even though Martine paused now and again to allow her submissive a moment to get used to the next level of intensity.
“Let it take you away, tramp, that’s what you want,” she asserted with a snarling scowl.
Thwack!
“Oh gawwwwwwd nooooooo,” the bound beauty wailed frantically.
Pain began to swim over her, a hellish aphrodisiac. As much as each cut hurt her to the core, she became resigned to its ruthless result—resigned to the horrendous arousal. Her body rose to each new burning bite, as if she wanted to feel the cruel cut of the buggy whip imprint her with the message that she craved the pain it would bring.
Her cries became moans, gasps of willingness. The “oh pleeeese,” in her voice urging Martine to continue.
Martine, whose dominance had suddenly burst forth in such overt fashion, was possessed. The power she wielded charged her with such passion, she thought she would cum simply from the act. And yet, to her surprise there was an unexpected feeling running in tandem with her lust. By some bizarre twist of fate, she discovered herself respecting Tessa and her submissiveness at the mercy of her whip. She was in awe of her inner strength.
She struck her swollen cunt, not to hurt her lover as she thought she would, but to pleasure them both. Each lashing cut descended on the vulnerable cunt to entice her. Some cuts were soft, some more harsh; but behind them all was the clear understanding, that at some point she would have to stop. She, Martine, would have to judge the moment when Tessa had reached her limit; and she, Martine, would have to demonstrate the grace required to end painful ordeal.
