MOTHER'S PET

BY SHARPERGIRL
me55ed_up_mi55@yahoo.co.uk

I had been staying at Mme. Dulac's house for about 2 months. Her lodgings included a comfortable upstairs room with en-suite facilities, good French home cooking, and a highly desirable location in the suburbs of Paris, all for a very affordable price. My reason for being there was primarily to study business and French language in the hope of getting a bi-lingual PA appointment. My French was pretty lousy though, but I loved Paris so much I just stayed there to complete the course and live a little.

Mme. Dulac was a jolly woman, widowed or divorced (I could never figure out which). She lived with her young teenage daughter Carole. Carole was a very beautiful girl, pale alabaster complexion and raven hair. Tall and slender she was always dressed immaculately. She sometimes looked like a life-size porcelain doll. Carole was not exactly friendly towards me. I got the feeling she resented the fact that her mother took in a lodger to make ends-meet. In all the time I had been there we had never exchanged more than a few words, but she was always polite if a little aloof.

One afternoon I wandered into the kitchen where I usually sat and practised my French with Mme. Dulac. She would usually make cups of wonderful hot chocolate and we'd sit there while I struggled to figure out the grammar, she was very patient with me but we often ended up giggling. "Oh Miss Suzanne you have much to learn!" She would say. Her English was not much to write home about either, but we got by and things were always jovial.

On this occasion though she was very agitated, her face was like thunder, something was obviously wrong. When she saw me she took my arm gently and shook her head. "Oh, Miss Suzanne, a very terrible thing is happening. Carole is doing very bad things and it is time for her to be hurted….err how is it, ah yes punished." She ushered me over to the small table by the wall where we usually sat for our drink. "You don't mind Suzanne we don't have lesson and chocolat today. Please you will be watching Carole getting her legs a whipping… yes please, it is more terrible for her to have you watching, is it OK?" I was completely amazed by what was being said. It took me a while to understand what was going on. I just sat at my normal place and shrugged, "OK I guess?".

The stout woman moved quickly. She took one of the plain wooden chairs away from the table and stood it in the middle of the bare concrete floor. She then went to a cupboard and brought out a bunch of what looked like leather belts. She unravelled one and stooped down onto the floor by the chair. I noticed the chair was placed over a metal recess in the floor, a handgrip to lift up a drain cover it looked like. There was a crossbar between the legs of the chair. She fastened this to the handgrip by wrapping the leather strap round a few times and then buckling it tightly. She shoved the chair, it did not move from it's position. I began to be interested in what I was about to witness. I had never seen anyone whipped, but the idea of it had always thrilled me. As a girl I had seen several of the old biblical epic movies where the heroine would be whipped, or at least you would hear a woman crying out and the sound of the lash. I started to get butterflies thinking about it. Mme. Dulac went back to the cupboard and came away with what was obviously the whip. I learned later it was called a Martinet. It had a rigid leather bound handle about a foot long, and from one end sprang four braided leather tails. As she shook the tails they unravelled, they were about 2 feet long, tapered and had small knots in the end. "This one for traditionel punishment, my father use for me and now I use for Carole" I nodded in acknowledgement, as she left the kitchen, whip in hand. She went to the end of the passage and I heard her calling Carole in a loud and angry voice. Several times she called, and then I heard her start to climb the stairs. I could not hear clearly, but there were a few exchanges of words, Carole's shrill voice barely audible. Shortly Carole and her mother entered the kitchen. It was clear that Carole had not expected to see me there. She stood staring at me. She blushed a little and looked away biting her bottom lip in anxiety. Her mother stood over her with the whip and pointed to the chair. Carole was immaculately turned out. Her black hair cut into a neat bob above her slender shoulders was held just so by a blue Alice band. She wore a powder blue sweater that clung to her body, accentuating her pointed pubescent breasts, the nipples very obvious although I could see the outline of a teenage brassiere beneath. The sweater stopped at her thin waist and there was a small gap of bare pale skin above the waistband of her black pleated skirt. The skirt was very short, barely reaching below the line of her pert buttocks. In all the time I had known her she had always worn impossibly short skirts, yet never had I seen her displaying anything she shouldn't. Below her pale unblemished thighs and perfectly sculptured knees, her fine calves were clad in white lace stockings, which disappeared into black patent leather shoes. I don't know what it was that did it, but somehow my butterflies turned into an intense feeling of excitement. Maybe it was the fact that I'd noticed her nipples, and her face was flushed with embarrassment, maybe I got a wrong signal but I started to believe that she, this young prim girl was intensely aroused in a sexual way. I could not think of anything else, the arousal idea started to get to me and when I shifted in my seat I realised that I had got very wet inside my panties.

Carole's mother put the whip on the table right near me. The supple leather tails hung off the edge. Light tan coloured at the handle they darkened toward the twisted ends, which were almost black. Obviously this instrument had been played many times. The leather although old, gleamed, and had obviously been well soaped after each use to keep it supple. I loved the smell of saddle soap. While I studied the whip Carole was manhandled into the chair and sat upright with her feet and knees together. She sat with her arms hanging straight down from her shoulders following the line of the chair-back with her hands resting beside the back legs. Mme. Dulac picked up one of the remaining leather belts; she passed it across Carole's lap and went round the back of the chair. There she tightened it and fastened Carole to the chair at her waist and also locked her arms by her side. I shifted in my seat and the tight Levis I wore pressed into my tender parts, which meant my panties were now working up in between my wet pussy. I was very hot and my heart started to beat so hard I could swear Carole and her mother would hear. Carole was now having her shoes removed. Her mother stooped to undo the buckles at each fragile ankle. The shoes were placed on the floor right next to me. They looked so small next to my trainers. Mme. Dulac took another belt and stooped again. This time she wrapped the belt in a figure 8 around Carole's lace clad ankles leaving the free end and the buckle end emerging from the between them. She murmured to her daughter, I looked at Carole's face just as two huge tears fell across her cheeks. She was breathing quite heavily now. Here little breasts heaving urgently under the pale blue sweater. Carole shifted her shoulders over to the right side and shuffled her hips forward so her bottom was perched on the edge of the seat. At the same time her mother lifted her feet up by the strap and stretched her slender legs upward until her ankles were at head height over her left shoulder and pressed against he chair back. The strap was fastened tightly in place around the top span of the chair back. Once her ankles were fixed another belt was tightly wrapped around and buckled at knee height, her legs now firmly strapped together.

It was a sight to behold. Carole was literally bent double and strapped in place. Her bare legs were completely exposed, save for the area under the knee strap, from the tops of her calf length stockings all the way to her bottom. She was resting on the base of her spine, and when she had shuffled forward her tiny white cotton panties had been pulled in between her cheeks. The angle at which her legs were fastened stretched her willowy thighs and right between them her panties emerged again to accommodate the bulge of her pussy, which protruded sharply outward to ward me. With the slight twist induced by fastening her legs over one shoulder I was now looking square on at everything that girl would rather keep hidden. The panties were thin white ribbed cotton and at the edge where her pussy was contained I could see the wisps of lace trim. It was easy to see the split of her peach under the tight material. I strained to see if she was showing any pubic hair, but I could not see any. Girls her age sometimes had a full bush, sometimes baby bare, or maybe she was shaving already? I was on the edge of my seat now. Conscious that Carole was glaring at me, and blushing even more now that I could plainly see under her skirt and was taking in the view with some relish. One thing was becoming clear to me. If the whip was applied not only to her legs, but also along her thighs to her smooth and well presented bottom, it would be impossible to avoid having the tails whip across that neat white mound. The thought excited me so much I shifted position again only this time it set my nether regions throbbing in the most unbearable way. I was desperate to go and relieve myself manually.

Mme. Dulac walked over and picked up the whip. She turned and swung it through the air from over her shoulder. The tails shrieked as they cut through the air. Carole cringed at the noise. She was sobbing quietly now, a constant stream of tears dripping on to her sweater. "She is very bad this girl, she is older girl and must be responsible for young neighbour to see her safe home from class. But Carole is wanting to walk with boy friend and not walk with young neighbour girl…" Mme. Dulac's voice registered her extreme displeasure at her daughter's behaviour, personally, I was on Carole's side up to this point. It was perfectly understandable to me that a girl of Carole's age would want to start taking an interest in the opposite sex. "And when young girl follow Carole and boy, what is 'appening? Well, they push the little girl down the bank and almost into canal. Poor girl is bruised, cover in filth and nearly fall in and drown!" Oh, well now maybe I can see Carole's mother's side now. Carole could not understand her mother as she had very little English, but she realised I was being told about her wrongdoings and she stared at her chest in shame. "And she will not say the name of the boy or what they were doing alone together, he is also bad to help push the little girl!". Wow, so our little goodie two shoes Carole has been a real little bitch and she won't tell on her boyfriend. I guess she deserves what she gets then. "Now all neighbours get to hear Carole being whipped, hope screaming is not too loud for you Miss Suzanne."

Carole's mother swung the whip with all her might and the screeching tails slashed across Carole's slender thighs close to her knee joints. Carole had closed her eyes and screamed even before impact. Her shrill voice was piercing, and the sharp crack of the leather biting into her soft pale skin made me jump. The initial squeal was followed by a horrible grating noise from the back of Carole's throat, which she made between sharp panting breaths. Wow! Again, even harder, the tails lashed a little further along Carole's wriggling thighs, she sounded like a puppy whose tail had been stood on. The dreadful braying like a donkey followed, her legs jiggled as she tried to shake the pain away, thigh muscles twitching involuntarily. Jeez! Three in quick succession, her pale skin now turning scarlet with deep crimson welts. The girl flexed every muscle in her body and made an awful din, her face bright red, eyes screwed up and her beautiful mouth wide open and gasping. The lashes came hard and fast working inexorably along her thighs towards her exposed buttocks. It looked as if there was electricity being passed through her legs as she struggled desperately against her leather bonds. After maybe fifteen lashes the red angry marks had reached the point where the thighs join the buttocks. Her mother dropped her whip arm and massaged her shoulder while Carole continued to squeal protests at her. Soon Mme. Dulac was squaring-up to whip Carole's bottom. I leaned forward involuntarily to scrutinise the scene. Carole's thigh muscles twitched spasmodically, each time squeezing her neat little pussy between them. Suddenly the whiptails slashed across her buttocks. Carole's bleating suddenly raised to another piercing squeal; the whip's four scorching tails had scoured a blazing line across the left buttock and on to the right. Although the thin cotton of her panties hid the details, her pussy must have been stinging something awful. Again and again and again, Carole jerked and thrashed her head and pleaded as the whip criss-crossed her upturned backside. Then a particularly nasty set of three lashes aimed vertically down the line of her bound thighs. The tips of the whip's tails cutting between them with the brunt if the force being taken by the visibly swelling pussy mound. Her buttocks now glowed the same colours as her thighs, bright red skin with a dense lattice of rigid purple welts. Carole's howls were getting more desperate and the terrible pain caused the cries to be stifled in the back of her throat as if she were being strangled somehow. Her mother was asking her what she'd been doing with the boy, and who he was, punctuating each word with a hard swipe, left, right, vertical, sharp cracks of the warm supple leather in hot punished flesh. The pain had built up to an unbearable level and Carole took a huge breath, put her head back and just screeeeeeeamed at the top of her lungs. The whipping stopped, Mme. Dulac waited for the long scream to subside, Carole looked at her mother gasping and moaning pleading with her that she had been whipped enough. Her mother shook her head and pointed at her daughter's backside. I looked; Carole's pussy had discharged into the cotton briefs. A reaction to the terrible throbbing and stinging in her nether regions. Sticky fluid ran freely down between her buttocks trickled on to the hem of her skirt and on to the floor. Mme. Dulac placed the whip on the table in front of me. The tails were wet and shiny. She went back over to her daughter and slipped her hands under Carole's hips and shuffled the white panties down over her buttocks and pushed them out of the way along her thighs up to the strap at her knees. I stared wide-eyed at Carole's totally bare slit. The mound was covered in purple blisters where the whip's tails had made contact. The slit was held closed by the bound thighs, but I could see the bulging labia inside trying to push their way out. The whole area glistened with the slimy discharge. Her pussy mound, now free of the constraints of her panties was protruding markedly from between her legs and as I watched I swear it started to open. "Now Miss Suzanne I make Carole tell me about boy, sorry for horrible sight and loud noises!" Carole was sobbing and mumbling and shaking with rage pain and anticipation. Mme. Dulac went back to the cupboard and brought out a long thin riding whip. Carole saw it and started to shriek. Her mother simply asked the same questions of her daughter. When no answer came she walked over and placed the tip of the shining leather clad crop right across Carole's blistered pussy, the pressed it in to the tortured mound so that it cut across the line of her slit and made contact with her buttocks on either side. She asked the question again, Carole stared wide-eyed gasping and shaking her head, a high pitched swish and a gunshot crack! I'd never heard a scream like it, Carole was delirious, screeching and drooling from the mouth. Her mother stood with the whip pressed back into the same spot, when the noise died down a little, same question. Carole's swelling pussy mound was forcing its way out from between the tightly closed thighs. The terrible cut with the riding whip had increased the swelling considerably. She was now showing her inner lips, fresh pink tissue looking terribly vulnerable as the hard polished whip pressed down on it. Carole's screams were sounding hoarse as her normally shrill delicate voice started to give out. Her mother waited patiently for her daughter to regain control keeping the whip firmly pressed in place on the red and oozing gash. Then, quietly she asked Carole again, who was this boy and what had they been up to? Carole hesitated, looked pleadingly through floods of tears. Not good enough, the whip flew again, crack! Crack! CRACK! Hard, harder, harder still. Carole's tender cunt took three direct hits. The look of disbelief, rage and agony on the poor girl's face was beyond anything I'd seen, she went purple in the face and I thought she would feint. Her squealing came in silent gasps, her voice not able to register the almighty force with which air was being expelled from her heaving lungs. Her whole body shook uncontrollably against the bonds. As she fought against the white hot pain in her most sensitive spot, her mother stood stoically with the whip's supple end pressed into place on the horribly blackened swollen mound protruding from her thighs. When the question came again Carole responded, immediately stammering an unintelligible sentence. Her mother stood for a moment to consider what her daughter had told her. She removed the whip's end from her daughter's backside and put it on the table. Carole's relief was obvious as she let out a long moan. Unfortunately she relaxed a little too much because she also let out a spurting jet of urine. She looked away in shame as her mother tut tutted. Mme Dulac set about unfastening the girl's ankles from the chair back. She muttered some instructions to Carole, who was still contributing to a yellow puddle on the floor. Carole shuffled a little more upright in her bonds and her mother eased her legs back down and eventually she was in a sitting position with her feet on the wet floor. Mme Dulac was not about to release her daughter though, to my amazement she fastened Carole's ankles to the chair leg.

Carole's discomfort was audible. Tied tightly to a wooden chair sitting on her swollen whipped pussy and thighs must have been excruciating. Her mother turned to me, "So this terrible girl is telling me what I already know. Boy is allowed to finger teets and inside panty! She will be telling his name soon!" I could not believe Carole, the little minx, was still holding out… who was this guy? The still furious woman went back to her sobbing wailing daughter and leaned over her from the back of the chair. In a flash she had pulled the front Carole's fine knitted blue sweater up over her head and left it bunched behind her neck. Carole's damp pink-flushed belly and chest were now exposed. A thin lace trimmed plaid patterned brassiere covered her tiny breasts. Her chest heaved in dreadful anticipation. I could see her stiff hard nipples pushing against the plaid material. The brassiere was flipped up out of the way leaving the jiggling breast-buds completely bare. Carole's tears now splashed onto the newly exposed nipples. One sensitive spot had been tortured and now, it seemed inevitable that the stiff pink "teets" would get similar treatment.

Carole's mother went over to a kitchen drawer, rummaged inside it and took out a large flat hardwood spatula. As she walked toward her weeping daughter she slapped it hard onto the palm of her own hand. Carole's arms were still strapped down by her waist strap. She cried, "non! Non Mamman!" And leaned forward in her chair protecting the bare tender buds from the inevitable beating her mother had planned. Mme. Dulac sighed, put down the spatula and picked up yet another leather belt, she stood behind the still cowering girl and slipped the strap around her front and drew both ends up, lifting Carole's upper body back into the upright position. She fastened the belt very tightly behind the chair back. Carole sobbed bitterly, not only was she now unable to protect her nipples, but the strap had been passed under them and squeezed her small breasts so tightly that the pink tips were pushed up and outward. I could see they were extremely hard and erect, it looked like they might burst. The first slap was deafening, the sound ringing around the bare kitchen. This was followed by the terrible grating noise at the back of Carole's throat. The beating concentrated on the squealing girl's right breast, the hard flat spatula swung at arm's length with a vicious wrist flick as it slapped onto the sensitive pink bud. There were no questions being asked, this was just pure brutal punishment for being a slut with that boy. The nipple blackened and the soft white flesh surrounding it now a dozen hues of crimson and purple Mme. Dulac turned her attentions to Carole's unblemished left breast. A relentless barrage of violent swats were meted out buy the strong woman on her frail daughter causing Carole to rant deliriously, spit, drool and gag on her desperate screams for mercy.

Carole wept bitterly as the assault on her tender breasts subsided. Her mother was now looking quite flushed from the sheer physical exertion of beating her errant young daughter so thoroughly. I glanced at my watch; Carole had been under the whip now for over half an hour. Mme Dulac came and leaned on the table next to my seat. She looked at her writhing moaning daughter. Strapped in place, her short skirt around her waist and her sweater bunched up over her head. Her whipped legs still quivering and her thighs squirming as she tried to lessen the pain of sitting on her horsewhipped pussy. On the floor by her feet the tiny lace trimmed cotton briefs lay discarded in the small pool of urine she had expelled after suffering the dreadful riding whip that had been so cruelly directed. Her head lolled on her shoulders, her face sore and red from the hot salt tears, which still ran freely. Her tiny heaving breasts strapped up with the tight belt shook with her panting breaths. The once plump and erect fresh pink nipples now swollen grossly and blackened by the bruising swats from the wooden spatula. And for what? Any mother could surely see that this poor young girl was never built to suffer such brutal torture. All because of a moment's irrational violence towards a younger companion. Even if she were planning some heavy petting with an illicit boyfriend surely her punishment had exceeded anything that might be considered reasonable. I looked up at Mme Dulac And she looked back at me; she had tears in her eyes. "Oh Suzanne, how terrible you think I am to whip little Carole so?" I shrugged and said nothing. "It should be over now, so you think?" Again I just shrugged, as if to say it were none of my business how she chose to punish her own daughter. "Yes it should be over now, but I have to tell you it cannot be, and now I explain how it is to be even more terrible for little Carole."

I was really taken aback by this, Mme Dulac was clearly having a big guilt trip about what she had just done to her only daughter. But, she was now going to continue? Surely not. We sat there in the kitchen listening to Carole's pathetic sobs and heart-rending pleas while Mme Dulac explained. Apparently she had known Carole had been seeing a boy and getting up to no good for some time. Such behaviour was very much frowned upon by the local community. Despite many warnings from her mother it appeared Carole found her boyfriend's touch irresistible. On the day in question, Carole had in fact sent her young companion home, bribed with sweets. Things had not gone to plan and Carole had since told her mother everything that had happened. All except the boy's name, she had apparently just given more details of her misdeeds to her mother while being questioned under the whip. Once the little companion had been sent on her way, Carole had met her boy under the bridge near the local canal. There they had caressed each other and kissed. They had also explored each other's bodies. Unfortunately the little companion had been seen going home on her own by her older brother who had been driving his truck out of town. He had been very upset to find the girl on her own with too many sweets and had asked where he might find Carole. By the time the little girl and her brother found them Carole and her boy had been getting into a very heavy session indeed. They were found under the bridge, Carole was leaning back against the wall with her panties around her ankles; the boy was crouching down between her legs. It was clear to the older brother that Carole was having her young bare cunt licked out by the enthusiastic boy. The older brother first sought to protect the little girl from the disgusting scene. In doing so, Carole's boy was alerted and ran without being identified. In the process he shoved the little girl down the canal bank, Carole had run all the way home hoping to lie her way out of the situation, leaving the little girl's brother to save his sister from falling into the canal.

Mme Dulac had discovered Carole breathless in her room hastily putting on a clean pair of panties. Carole had admitted at this point part of what had been going on. This would have earned her a severe punishment and she would have simply had her legs whipped. However, within the hour, and just before I had come back to the house, there had been a knock at the door. Genevieve, the little girl, her Mother and big Brother were there. They were furious about Genevieve being nearly drowned, and shocked that neither Carole nor the boy had offered to help. They were even more determined that a local underage slut be seen to be punished for leading boys astray and ruining her mother's good reputation. To Mme Dulac's distress and Carole's eternal shame Genevieve's brother produced Carole's discarded panties that he had recovered from the scene. He went on to describe the heavy soiling. He pointed out that the wearer of these must have been in a highly aroused state. Even before they were removed to allow the boy to use his tongue on her cunt Carole must have been having her vaginal opening rubbed by letting the boy put his fingers inside her panties, or even worse, maybe his cock! They demanded that the identity of the boy be found out so they could notify his parents and protect him from being sucked in by the teenage temptress. This seemed so unfair, but Mme Dulac explained that it was common to blame the girls in these cases and that her reputation was in ruins. The only shred of credibility she could restore was to be seen to punish her daughter in the most horrible and extreme way. The more shameful the spectacle of Carole's punishment the more Mme Dulac would preserve of her tattered credibility. Genevieve's mother demanded that they would be allowed the satisfaction of witnessing Carole's punishment. They also demanded that the boy be present with his family. They eventually left to go and round up the spectator group, in the meantime they expected Carole's punishment to commence and progress until their return. They expected her to be punished for the danger she caused to little Genevieve, punished for withholding the boys name, and made ready to be punished for being a slut in front of the spectators. Part of the punishment would be to demonstrate to all the spectators that Carole was still physically a virgin. They would want to all inspect her hymen before the punishments proceeded. "People will come to see it, you will 'ave to see it. All of this is just zee warming up." Mme Dulac wept. "I will get everything ready, it takes a little time. Please you come back in 'alf an hour to sit with the people, to inspect the punishments." I did not know what to say, my head spun, I stood up and put my hand on her shoulder, "Of course, I will be here if you wish it." I said. I took a look over at Carole, still sobbing gently; she glanced back at me, her eyes pleading. I walked out of the kitchen to go up to my room.

On the way upstairs I was in two minds. One part of me was guilty about the brutality going on the kitchen in front of my very eyes. Surely the police should be notified, even if such extreme whipping was demanded by local custom. The other side of me craved the experience of witnessing the scene. I had already soaked my own panties. The account of Carole having her teenage slit masturbated and licked drove me to the edge of orgasm. I resolved that I could probably do nothing to stop these people, and that the consequences for Mme Dulac and Carole could be worse if the punishments did not go ahead. The more I thought about it the more I fantasised about what it would be like to be Carole. I decided to take a shower to cool down, I stripped and put my soaked panties into the wash basket. I kept my own pussy almost bare and my bathroom mirror revealed how turned on I was. The hot tingling shower had me on my knees for a thrilling orgasm within seconds. I washed quickly and got out of the shower. I dried my hair and put it into a ponytail. I was very excited now and my heart was thumping. There was no doubt in my mind; I was going to relish this experience. I did not want to be too obvious but I wanted to do everything to increase the thrills I knew would overtake me. I dried off and applied deodorant under my arms, I put a little between my legs to make my pussy lips sting a little. I rummaged in my underwear drawer and found my black PVC bra and panties. These were what I sometimes used to drive the boys mad, but the tight shiny garments also excited me tremendously. The advantage was that the tight thong would not leak, so when I became aroused I would not embarrass myself by leaving a wet patch. I thought about wearing a nipple chain, but guessed that it may show through my clothes. As it was I knew my nipples would be quite obvious due to the PVC bra being a half-cup affair. Although my breasts are quite small the bra had the same effect as the belt across Carole's tiny buds. This thought caused a tingle to run up and down from my nipples to my clit which was firmly contained by the tight black thong. I then slid into my tightest jeans, wriggling the seam right into my PVC covered groove. I breathed in to zip the fly and walked around the room feeling very sexy. I topped off with a baggy sweatshirt, and slipped my trainers back on. I felt more than a twinge of guilt when I thought about using Carole's terrible misfortunes to get me off. There was a knock at the door and my heart leapt. This was going to be it. What would they do to that poor girl now?

When I got down to the hall there seemed to be at least a dozen people taking off their coats. I introduced myself. Mme. Dulac was looking more composed. Her face was stern and purposeful. I looked along the hall and saw that the kitchen door was closed. Within the group of people in the hall were Genevieve's brother Paul who was a tall stocky man of a bout 20. His mother, who looked very agitated and annoyed. He spoke good English and introduced me to Marc, a young lad of about 17 and his Mother and Father. He was Carole's mystery boy. He was white faced and looked dreadfully uncomfortable as did his parents. "Allo Miss Suzanne, yes Carole is telling the name to get things over with. She will be well punished for causing this fine young man to be drawn into her wicked ways" I could not believe this was the same woman that I'd been talking to a little over half an hour ago. These people sure took their reputations seriously. There was also another couple, M. and Mme. Fournel who apparently taught at Carole's school. Soon Mme. Dulac ushered us along the hall and she opened the door to the kitchen. I was first through the door. There were enough chairs for us all to take a seat. Some chairs obviously borrowed and some brought in from the small outside patio. They were arranged in two rows facing the punishment chair to which Carole was still strapped. Oh my goodness what a sight to behold. Carole looked at her audience with fear and shame all over her young tragic face. She still wore her blue Alice band in her hair, which was now looking rather tousled. Her sweater and Bra were as before pushed up to expose her tiny belted breasts. The nipples looked impossibly large and black atop the bruised reddened flesh. Her abdomen was bare to the waist where the short pleated skirt still clung. Her hips and legs however had been completely re arranged. Her legs were again raised up to her shoulder height. But this time a long plank of wood had been tied across the back of the chair. This allowed her feet to be attached at each end of the plank so that her legs were spread at full split. Her waist and wrists were fastened as before so that the stretching of her long slender legs revealed the most awesome sight. Firstly the backs of her thighs were very obviously coated in the welts left from the martinet. Her unscathed inner thighs were also exposed. Her thrashed buttocks were spread wide open revealing white flesh between and the tightly puckered anal sphincter at the centre. Above the neat little butt hole was the object of the crude and humiliating display. Carole's vagina was splayed wide open. The puffy skin of her mound was red, sore and showed where the riding whip had been used earlier. However her new position had pushed the injured tissue to the periphery and a chasm had opened in between. Her little sex hole was wide open. Spread above it were the gleaming pink labia majora. Crowning these beautiful tender petals was the miniature oyster of her labia minora, and for all to see the pink hard pearl of her clitoris lay vulnerable and unprotected. We all took a seat and had a completely unrestricted view. Mme Dulac had placed a lamp on the table that illuminated the scene so that every detail was plainly visible. Mark was made to stand to one side of Carole; he looked horrified at the cowering girl. His father started to explain something. Paul leaned over my shoulder from behind and translated. "Marc will be examined to see if he gets excited watching Carole. If he does he will get a sharp reminder that he must not lose control when there are sluts to tempt him." Marc was unfastening his fly and soon his penis was exposed to everyone. His father made him drop his trousers to the floor. Marc's young cock stuck right out of his Y-Front pants hard and erect, the foreskin peeled back from the glossy dome. His father muttered in disdain. From his pocket he produced a short piece of rubber flex with the end taped over. He gripped the base of his son's penis with his left hand and proceeded to beat the bulging end with the flex with short sharp flicks. Marc's erection soon died and he stifled the urge to scream with pain. There he stood tearful, cock now limp with his vigilant father watching for further signs of arousal.

Mme Dulac addressed the room, her French too fast for me; again I felt Paul's warm breath on my neck. "She says Carole has been very bad, but she is only a foolish girl and not a whore. We must all go and see that Carole's hymen is still in place so we cannot say she is a whore." One by one we all went and stared into the poor girl's gaping cunt. Sure enough the silky membrane was stretched across her hole proving that nothing substantial had ever penetrated her vagina. Paul's mother was dismissive and pointed to the girl's anus. I could guess what she was implying. While this went on I noticed Carloe's white panties were still on the floor and that the pee had been left there for all to see. Carole was making her grating noise again as the men and women stared into her gaping slit and nodded approvingly. Paul's mother then produced what must have been the pair of panties left at the scene. Tiny pale blue lace ones, very sheer and typically French I thought, she turned out the gusset and showed everyone the stains, pushed them under Marc's nose and then into Carole's weeping face. "She says any girl her age that makes that kind of mess must be training to become a whore, so she should be punished like one." Paul related. We herd the whap! Whap! WHAP! Of the rubber flex again, Marc hopped and grimaced as his bulging cock was again brought down. Mme Dulac nodded in agreement, she had acted like a whore and we would all see her whipped like one. She picked up the martinet and swung it briskly through the air. The sound made me shudder and I knew I was starting to spill into my own panties. Carole looked up in disbelief as her mother stood in front and to the left of her and laid the tails of the martinet gently over her wide open slit. She adjusted a little so the very tips of the martinet's tails lay over the most sensitive and delicate tissue. Her arm pulled the tails down and the martinet swung behind her and over the shoulder to be brought whistling back down to the starting point with deadly accuracy and blinding speed. The tails recoiled off Carole's pussy and Mme Dulac's arm continued to windmill around and around. There was a loud slap each time the whip's tails lashed into the wet slit. Carole's squealing was inhuman, her body went into spasm and it looked like her young muscles would tear from her bones as she struggled with every ounce of her strength against the harsh bonds. The terrible beating continued with hard measured strokes, the martinet fizzed in the air as it lashed down between the desperate girl's legs. Her delicate lace covered feet were firmly strapped to the long plank. She was a very flexible girl, but if she had been pulled any wider I'm sure her hips would have dislocated. I watched her thighs start to perspire, the whip-scorched surface flexing and shuddering as she tried to pull her feet away from the ends of the plank. Her muscles tensed and visibly shook after each stinging impact burned into her now red and angry cunt lips. A gasping breath followed by a stifled squeal accompanied the rhythmic flexing of her muscles. I got so breathless as I watched, the reaction to each lash slightly delayed after the sharp slap of the impact. It looked just like she was straining to open her little slit wider to accept the next stroke. I had to change my seating position to stop my legs from trembling as I imagined stretching my own wet vaginal lips to allow the whip to burn me in my most secret places. Maybe Marc had been thinking on similar lines because there was the staccato sound of the rubber flex whipping the end of his engorged cock playing counterpoint to the martinet's measured strokes. Paul whispered in my ear, "twenty nine, thirty…" He was counting Carole's lashes good god thirty lashes with that long leather tailed whip on her poor unprotected labia, not to mention her tiny little clitoris which we had all seen during the inspection. And still the lashes came. Carole had lost the rhythm now the flexing of her muscles was causing her pelvis to twitch back and forth as far as the tight fastenings would allow this made her little whipped cunt wiggle up and down as if she were urgently frigging herself up against some invisible cock. Her eyes were rolling in their sockets; her cries less piercing but still animal in nature due to sheer exhaustion. I looked at her wet titties, soaked with tears and sweat with the rigid black nipples jutting forward above the damp leather restraint. The martinet still beat down on her jiggling pussy hard as ever. I could see her cunt lips had turned black and had swollen horribly. Her clit and the surrounding frills had also darkened and puffed up so that her once tiny pink bundle of nerve endings was now poking up hard and bruised and even more exposed to the stinging tails of the whip. There was a spattering noise; she was releasing her bladder again, intermittent spurts jetting out from the inflamed and smarting mass of vaginal flesh. Mme Dulac did not falter, the whip continued to mete out its vicious torturing pain. The piss splashed from the whip's tails and squirted out from the girl's stinging pee hole between each lash. "Thirty nine, forty" Whispered Paul.

The sight of young Carole jerking her open pussy so urgently against the whip, and then the piss coming like little ejaculations had me in floods; I closed my eyes and breathed out long and slow as I came in my tight PVC thong. I was terrified Paul would notice my face must have been bright pink. As I recovered the final lash was delivered; Mme Dulac turned towards the audience, out of breath, sweating profusely trailing the whip on the floor, the wet tails leaving their mark on the bare concrete. Her voice was weak and shaky as she invited us all to come and take a close look at her daughter's punished slit. As we filed past Mme Dulac gave Carole some water through a straw; the girl could not control her breathing sufficiently to suck on the straw efficiently and a lot was spilled. Carole's little black skirt was wet now, soaked in pee and sweat. I leaned over as the others had done to closely inspect her trembling vagina. The whole area between her thighs and buttocks was now purple or black, some flecks of blood oozed out of the painful black blisters where the skin was broken by repeated whipping. The gaping hole we had peered into earlier was almost closed now due to the swelling of the punished flesh. The delicate pink labia looked like black knotted leather around the purple wet inner recesses of her slit. Above, her bare thrashed mound was covered in hard purple welts and in the centre where the groove of her slit started the engorged red mass that had been the labia minora erupted around the glistening black cherry if her battered clitoris. I felt the heat on my face, I was sure I could see her clit throbbing with the agonising pain, and I could smell her, strong and pungent the mixed scent of cunt, piss and blood.

After everyone had peered and sniffed to their satisfaction we filed back to the seats, I took a look at Mark, still standing with his cock out, and although limp the end was swollen and bruised and I noticed a small bead of fluid forming at the very end. I started to wonder what would happen and expected everyone to start gathering his or her things and get ready to go home. But we sat there, the other's seemed expectant, I wanted to go up to my room and masturbate. Mme. Dulac had placed the martinet on the table and was now washing Carole's face with a cloth; she gently dabbed her breasts also, and then mopped carefully between her legs. Carole gasped at the touch of the cloth on her punished cunt. Once the dabbing and fussing was over, Mme Dulac clasped her daughter's terror stricken face in her hands, looked her in the eyes and nodded to her. She then stood up and moved away. The room was silent. Paul and Genevieve's mother looked very agitated, expectant even. Then, Carole spoke. A tiny wavering voice, speaking slowly and deliberately interrupted occasionally by the involuntary sobs and gasps that her distressed state demanded. I felt Paul's presence at my shoulder again. " She is apologising to my mother for causing the terrible accident to Genevieve. She wants my mother to be satisfied that she is very sorry. She invites her to take the whip to the insides of her thighs so they will be scarred like the backside. Also she invites my mother to give her two dozen lashes anywhere she chooses to be sure that the punishment is completed to her satisfaction." I was so shocked; this poor tortured girl, inviting someone to give her yet another whipping. This was too much. The woman got up quickly, her face a picture of determination and boundless cruelty. She was dressed in slacks and a short sleeved blouse. A fit and wiry woman of about forty, she marched over to the table, reached out and grasped not the martinet but the long thin riding whip. Mme Dulac gasped; Carole started her horrible noises again. The woman was determined. Not the martinet! The horsewhip! Mme Dulac capitulated and sat down with her head in her hands. Paul's mother spent some time examining the shiny black whip. It had a short leather tail at the end; it tapered from the handle down to this whippy end and was covered in fine woven strands of polished black leather. I'd guessed from the way it had been used on Carole earlier that the core was fibreglass. Whatever horrors the martinet was capable of, this would be a lot worse I was in no doubt. The woman approached Carole, whip in hand, slashing it through the air. It made a shrill sound and bent almost to a right angle between the handle and the whippy tail. She lectured Carole, rested the whip at the tender top of her inner thigh and stroked it along almost to the quivering knee joint. This was repeated on the other leg. "She tells her where she will be getting it" Paul whispered unnecessarily. His mother then leaned over the girl and very visibly sniffed at her slit. She went back to her seat mumbling. "She smells like a whore" Paul gloated. His mother took a small perfume spray from her purse and went over to Carole, the cruel bitch squirted three times onto the tortured cunt flesh. As she replaced the perfume Carole recoiled and began to writhe and squeal as the burning pain seared into her from every nerve in her tender slit that had been sprayed with cologne. The woman stood over the hysterical girl horsewhip at the ready.

It started. We all drew a sharp breath when the high pitched swish ended in the most sickening crack! The whip end had cut into the white flesh of Carole's thigh very close to the blistered area surrounding her burning punished vagina. Carole's voice was not able to do justice to her scream, again the terrible sound. This time on the opposite side of her cunt, mirroring the first shot. Third cut, two inches further down the thigh from the first. Fourth cut, exactly the same on the other leg. The woman was strictly methodical, merciless and brutal. The whip was leaving hard raised welts. Purple and black tramlines quickly appeared, as did small drops of blood trickling from the blazing wounds. Carole was trying to thrash her hips about again. But she was held fast and her supreme effort only caused her cunt to move up and down, twitching and shuddering between the awful cuts from the singing whip. The whip cracks ceased, Carole's pathetic squealing continued. She had taken twelve bloody cuts on each thigh, the once smooth white flesh carved into deep red and black furrows by the burning tip of the horsewhip. The cruel woman stood and surveyed the workmanship with a smug smile. We all did, we knew it was not over though. Mme, Dulac was distraught but had to accept the situation. Carole was babbling in a world of pain and agony far from us. During the horsewhipping Carole had produced a stream of clear mucus which oozed out of her blistered vagina and over her anus, long thin strands dripped to the floor. Marc was having his cock whipped again by his scolding father. The boy yelled in pain this time as the rubber flex beat down on the already whipped and purple glans. Once his cock was limp again he was told to put it away and put his trousers back on. Meanwhile Paul's mother was strutting about swishing the whip and intimidating the terrified girl as she decided where to place the next twenty-four strokes. She pointed the whip's tail at the dripping strands of mucus. She coated the end of the whip in the slimy discharge then held the whip against Carole's glistening pink anus. Carole guessed what was going to happen, the only really sensitive spot left which had not been directly beaten was her twitching pink butt hole. She cried bitterly pleading not to have the horsewhip applied to her tender anal sphincter. The woman took no notice, she'd almost accused Carole of being penetrated there and now she was going to whip it good and hard. She positioned herself to get a full swing and to bring the tip of the whip right on to the centre of the puckered hole. Crack Crack Crack! Went the whip. Carole almost unable to respond now, translated her best efforts into stifled yelps and a delayed wiggling of her backside which again made her look as if she were trying to push her butt hole up into the path of the whip. Paul's mother did not waste any time fast hard and furious the cuts came one on top of the other as the tender muscle twitched and swelled and went black with the terrible blistering cuts. I had counted eighteen, when the onslaught stopped. Could that be it? Will she let poor Carole off the last six cuts? No! She beckoned Paul over to her and spoke quietly to him, and then she said something to Mme Dulac who just shook her head. Paul went to the side of the stricken girl and put both hands between her legs. He used his thumbs to spread the squealing girl's pussy so wide that I thought she would tear. Her clit stood up proud and below was revealed the inner walls of her vaginal opening which still had their reddish pink hue. Carole renewed her pleas for mercy with desperate urgency when she realised her clitoris was going to be horse whipped. The whip's tail was placed along the groove and the very end rested on Carole's sticky hard and swollen clit. She squealed at the merest touch on the punished bundle of nerves. The whip swung, the people gasped, Carole screamed long and loud, six blistering strokes to go and I was ready to come again, for the third time pee squirted from Carole's tortured pussy as the hard burning whip slammed into her white hot burning clit again and again.

They had all gone, I had seen them all to the door while Mme Dulac set about releasing her semi-conscious daughter. After I closed the door I went upstairs, I needed to pee and I also wanted to pleasure myself. I went to the toilet and was quite shocked at the mess I had made inside my panties. I changed, thought about masturbating but decided to go back down to see how Carole and her mother were coping. I was amazed to find Carole standing with her shaky whip scarred legs spread apart, and her body leaning forward over the table. Her mother was sitting behind her rubbing salve into her welts and cuts. They both looked over to me and Mme Dulac beckoned for me to sit where I was. Carole fixed my gaze. The application of the ointment proceeded up the punished girl's thighs and on to her blistered buttocks. Occasionally she murmured in pain and often directed her mother's attentions between her legs. Mme Dulac seemed reluctant to nurse her daughter there, and would continue to treat the buttocks and thighs. Carole moaned and spoke briskly to her mother; she shuffled her feet further apart and tipped herself further forward. Her mother sighed and took a little more salve on her finger, which she then placed, between Carole's legs. Carole stared at me; her eyes regained some of their smug aloof quality. Her mother massaged ever so gently, Carole's eyes rolled and as I watched she smiled the most gorgeous smile right back at me holding my gaze once more she shuddered and yielded to her blissful orgasm.