THE GIRL WHO HAS EVERYTHING

BY SHARPERGIRL
me55ed_up_mi55@yahoo.co.uk

I had been at a loose end all of Saturday. The previous week had been filled with meetings and presentations, a very busy time in corporate finance. My office had been doing very well, my career was taking off and things were quite exciting in my professional life. Only 26 years old and a senior tax manager for a major international retail chain was pretty good going. Unfortunately weekends often found me reflecting on how well things were going career wise. I had the chic apartment, the new BMW and all the trappings of a successful business girl. A dozen handsome men would be eager to escort me to the best clubs and restaurants; some of them were kind and thoughtful and had been invited into my bed on several occasions. So, the same question arose, one that had been nagging at the back of my mind for nearly ten years. What was missing in my life?

The answer also lurked, deep in my darkest recesses. I had a need, like a craving for a drug. The satisfaction of that need could cost me all of my apparently idyllic lifestyle. The risk involved in satisfying my deepest desires was always too great for me to have the courage to even take the first steps, until that Saturday.

My Internet browser had listed hundreds of websites fitting the search criteria women + art. I had been casually browsing the on-line poster galleries for some prints by female artists. Quite out of the blue I found one reference in the listings that seemed to draw me in. "Erotic art of woman" The site had an adult only warning, but I was curious and entered. There were several galleries listed. Airbrush art with photographic detail of obvious and vulgar explicit sex poses did not interest me. I could not help however checking the one called Bondage, Pain and Humiliation. As soon as the page of thumbnails materialised on my screen I felt an electricity in me, a deep thrill in my stomach. I clicked on each image in turn to reveal fantastic images of beautiful girls; all of them bound or otherwise rendered helpless. The pictures showed evidence of painful tortures and punishments inflicted by cruel tormentors. As I gazed on the images, I felt my arousal increase to a giddy height, I actually started to moisten between my legs and felt my face flush with self-embarrassment. I started to download some of the images. The quality of the paintings and sketches was wonderful. By the time I had downloaded the pictures that aroused me most I was dying to relieve the urgent passion which throbbed between my legs. I logged off from the Internet and went to my bedroom.

I have never had hang-ups about masturbating, I find it a poor substitute for sex but a great way to ease stress and relax tension, which for me are occupational hazards. My need was urgent, as I slipped out of my jog pants I could feel the cool air on the very wet gusset of my white cotton CK panties. I took off my sweatshirt and dropped it on the floor next to my jog pants. My white cotton crop-top came off next, and I stood for a while massaging my small firm breasts, kneading and pinching my dark brown nipples. Not only had the pictures aroused me sexually, I had also got into a real high state of excitement I was full of adrenaline and had a knot low in my stomach. As I walked over to my chest of drawers I began to wonder if any unexpected visitors might arrive and catch me, I never usually did this during the day. In any case no one would know for sure that I would be home so I could safely ignore any callers. I reached to the back of the middle drawer and found the velvet bag, which contained my trusty vibrator. It had some attachments and a spare set of batteries inside as well as the ten-inch long ribbed pink rubber dildo. I held it in my hand and flicked the switch. It's silent pulsing was strong in my fingers and buzzed like electricity up my forearm. I went over to my bed switched it off and put it down on the pillow. I took a towel and spread it over the bed quilt. Peeling off my panties I stood for a moment and looked at myself naked in the dressing table mirror. I kept my pussy almost totally bare, waxing my bikini line regularly leaving only a small vee of short-cropped pubic hair above my clitoris. My pussy lips and clitoris were peeping out of the smooth slot under my mons obviously wet and aroused. I lay on the bed with my bottom on the towel, spread my legs and started to splay my labia wide with my fingers. Gentle probing and light brushes of fingers and thumbs over the hard bud of my clit soon gave way to more urgent pinching and thrusting. I closed my eyes and thought about the pictures. Helpless bound girls being punished and tortured for unknown misdeeds.

I reached for the thick and weighty dildo and switched it on; the buzz started the first pre-orgasmic wave deep inside me, as I placed the tip between my open slit another wave washed over me. I started to massage it up and down between my anus and my clit in slow sweeping strokes. I went through in my mind the most memorable images from the picture gallery. The waves came more frequently and I tensed my lower abdomen to capture each and build the sensation into a climax, slowly surely building up each time the dildo buzzed my rigid clit. I was becoming quite breathless; the images made me so excited. I stopped quite suddenly, I stood up and put on a bathrobe, and my legs were like jelly, my orgasm so close. I picked up the still vibrating phallus and went back to my computer. Sitting down on the leather chair I hitched up the robe and unfastened it, I sat with my bare bottom on the leather seat and my feet up on the desk either side of the computer. I leant forward and opened the graphics browser. I had a list of JPEG files that contained the artwork that would take me to the darkest pleasures imaginable.

Mouse in one hand and vibrator in the other I fed my desire visually and sensually, eventually fixing on two of the pictures displayed side by side I was now ramming the throbbing rubber stump deep into my hungry twitching slit, the chair was wet and would be stained forever. I didn't care. I was looking at a picture that filled me with such depraved desire and such a wanton fire that I could no longer control my thoughts or deeds. Both of the pictures I had chosen were sketches, they showed a young girl in her early teens. She had been stripped naked except for a pair of lace trimmed ankle socks. She had been fastened at each ankle to the legs of a stout wooden dining table and as such she stood with her legs wide spread and her backside pushed into the edge of the tabletop. Her arms had been fastened behind her and across to the opposite side of the table. She stood therefore bent slightly backward over the table with her hips pushed forward, and chest pushed up. It was no doubt a very uncomfortable position to be in. Tied tight and stretched against a sturdy solid wood table, naked and with her most vulnerable body parts pushed to the fore. Her face showed fear and distress, her thigh muscles taut so that her hairless pussy gaped, showing her inner lips and clit. Her chest thrust up with her small pale young breasts barely raised up from her ribs, topped with dark and stiff nipples. This would have been torment enough for any teenage girl, but there was more in the detail of that picture. Beside her on the table were her clothes, short pleated skirt folded neatly, a thin blouse draped half on, half off the table. On top of these were a small plain junior bra, and a brief pair of lace-trimmed panties. This girl was obviously only about twelve or fourteen years old and just going through puberty. The other subtle and highly exciting feature of the depicted scene was the fact that there was obviously a line of seated onlookers facing the stricken girl. This was evident only by the shadows so brilliantly sketched in. To one side stood the figure of a woman in her late thirties, most probably the girl's mother. She stood looking the hapless girl in the eyes and was obviously lecturing her on a series of misdeeds. Her arms were folded across her chest. In her right hand she held the handle of a martinet. There were four or five nasty looking leather thongs hanging down about two feet in length from the handle each about an eighth of an inch wide and about the same thickness. It was an electrifying scene, the young girl's body restrained in this way in front of family and friends and about to receive a severe whipping.

The next picture showed the same scene, but about ten minutes later. The girl now was straining with all her might against the bonds that held her rigidly in position. Her face was contorted in a desperate scream, tears dribbled off her cheeks and on to her breasts. Her chest was a mass of dark cris-crossed welts where the whip had left it's stinging marks. The mother was bending; recovering from the follow-through after a hard and powerful swipe with the lash which had cut across the girl's lower abdomen. The whole area from her hips to her gaping vagina was also covered in welts and the effect of the whipping on her punished sex was that the lips and clit had swollen and bulged outward, the dark and blistered folds being even more exposed to the whip-ends. The scene was further enhanced in depicting the total degradation of this poor girl by the fact that a very obvious stream of urine was spurting from between her spread legs.

I gasped to catch my breath as I braced for my orgasm, my body jerked uncontrollably as wave after wave of nerve jangling ecstasy washed through my very being. I heard my own voice as if from afar, crying out as if in pain. The rubber tool fell to the floor and I curled up in the chair in a state of total relief, tinged with a little disgust and a hint of mild panic.

I slipped into the hot bath and disappeared into layer of bubbles that covered the scented water. As my muscles started to relax I began to collect my thoughts and try to rationalise what had happened a few moments ago in front of my computer. I had never felt so shaken by what was essentially just a half-hour of masturbation. I had discovered a trigger which sent deep sensations through my sexual being and which left me craving for more of the same. Even as I had recovered from my post orgasm shame, and started to close down the computer, those pictures had started me up again, I wanted to do it all over. I had exerted self-control and left the computer switched-off, put away my rubber toy and made a vain attempt to remove the stains from the expensive leather seat while my bath was running.

I thought about the scene in the two pictures, and other equally disturbing ones I had looked at that day. I knew I was discovering that I was some kind of Sadist or Masochist, I feared this revelation, I'd always hoped I was normal. Whatever normal is. I needed information; I was not ready to talk freely about this with anyone, not yet. I resolved to use the internet again to figure out if there was any clues out there as to what was going on in my, quite possibly, very sick head. What could have been the story leading up to the pictures of the girl tied to the table. It was a punishment scene, not overtly staged as if it were an enacted fantasy for the players involved. I started to dream up a story as I drifted and dozed in the warm water. I began running through different scenarios in my mind, developing situations in which a girl could be so deviant as to warrant such a severe punishment.

I had a rough story sketched out which aroused me afresh and I decided to end my bath and get dressed so as to get closer to what it was about me that was driving me into ever more complex and uncontrolled fantasy daydreams. I towelled down briskly, slipped into clean underwear and put my robe on. I dried my hair and went over to the kitchen to get a sandwich and some coffee. I sat on my sofa and began to get thrills again as I thought about the girl in the pictures. I had given her a name, Lottie. My quickly thought-up story went like this:

Lottie was fourteen. She was beginning to develop and had become somewhat preoccupied with boys. She had unfortunately been caught several times in school kissing and caressing behind the outbuildings with older boys. She had had her backside paddled several times for it. Her parents had been called into school and had felt terrible shame when their daughter's wayward behaviour was revealed. Mother had lectured Lottie and made it clear that if she ever did anything like this to shame the family again she would be whipped soundly in front of everyone. As if to underline her threat she showed Lottie the martinet that she had purchased especially for the occasion with a stern warning. Within a month of the warning Lottie had been discovered in the outhouse of her own home with a boy she's walked home from school with. The man next door who was in the garden had spotted them. He chased the startled boy away and took the girl to her front door where he told her mother what had happened. Once inside Lottie protested her innocence, but her mother had made the girl pull down her panties to reveal a very wet patch and quite obvious signs of arousal. Lottie was sent to her room to await the arrival of the rest of the family. Her father, brothers and an aunt would be there, and even the man next door and his wife were invited with their dreadful son and daughter to witness the spectacle.

I soon realised that his contrived scenario was based on something I was remembering from my distant childhood. Not an exact re-enactment, but some basic elements were the same. The incident had fired in me as a little girl a curiosity in cruel treatment; a strange emotional upsurge had come over me when I'd witnessed a friend's ten year old sister getting severely whipped for encouraging the attentions of an older boy. This feeling had lain dormant since then, until today. I had been about six at the time. I was walking back from Church and was allowed to go and play at my friend, Jane's place. They had a small farm and we loved to run in the field of maize that they grew near the house. We ran about in our best dresses careful not to get too dirty. We played for an hour or so before I needed to go home for my lunch. Jane and I were just about to climb up a small bank onto the farm road when my friend grabbed me. She pointed toward an old barn, there, in the shade was my friend's older sister Emma. She was leaning against the wall of the barn in the arms of a tall handsome boy called Michael who had walked her back from church. They were kissing; the boy was running his hands all over Emma's blue gingham dress. She did nothing to discourage him. Soon he had run his hand up her legs and raised her dress above her waist. She stopped kissing for a moment and looked round to make sure no one was about. She then got back to kissing, leaned back further and parted her legs widely to allow Michael's hand to fondle her deep down into her white lace panties. My friend and I were completely mystified. It was at this point that Emma's father walked out of the barn and rounded the corner to be confronted by the vision of his ten-year-old girl being eagerly groped by a boy who was at least four years her senior. We heard a shout and a shriek; the boy ran like hell. Then we heard a lot of commotion as Emma was dragged by her hair, around the corner and into the barn. Jane looked at me and beckoned, she crept up the bank and across the road to the barn. I followed and we crouched down. There were large gaps between the vertical timbers and a lot of light got inside the barn due to it only having half it's roof in place. In the barn were a number of stacks of rectangular hay bales, a workbench on the far side and, near the door there was a shiny black horse-drawn buggy which Jane's father used to show at local events. We silently watched and listened. Her father was shouting at Emma, we could see her kneeling by the Buggy, her father came into view dragging a bale of hay. He set it down in front of the large spoked wheel of the buggy. He barked at Emma and she started to plead and sob. We heard him telling her to take off her panties and to give them to him, eventually she stood up and lifted her dress, pulled down the flimsy lace garment and handed it to her father, he inspected them. We heard more barking and Emma was pushed down onto the bale of hay. Jane turned to me and beckoned again. We crept round to the other side of the barn and found a position just in front of where Emma was sitting where we could see and hear everything. Emma's father was gathering up some riding tack and muttering to the sobbing girl. He came back over with a bunch of buckled straps and stood so close to us that we froze. Jane put a finger to her lips. Her father threw down the straps and took one over to Emma; he held her wrists together and wrapped the strap tightly around them. He then fastened it to the top of the buggy wheel. Emma protested at having her hands tied in this way but to no avail. He picked up two more straps and wrapped one tightly around each ankle. He made the sobbing girl place her legs up with her feet behind her head and fastened them against the buggy wheel either side of her wrists so that her legs were spread wide open. He then hitched her dress right up so that her bare bottom and pink open slit were totally exposed. The girl cried and cried, unable to move and in a very uncomfortable position, she seemed to know what was going to happen next. Her father went to the driver's side of the buggy and picked up a small slender driving whip. It's leather bound rigid handle was about 2 feet long and the supple plaited leather cord of the tapered lash about another 2 feet. Emma started to scream now. He ran the polished supple leather through his hands as he strolled to a position facing the girl; She pleaded and pleaded her red face soaked in tears peering in terror from between her spread thighs. He swung the whip gently underarm, with the whip's handle at arm's length, the cord's end tassle rested right between Emma's legs in the groove of her wet slit. She howled in anguish again pleading for her father not to be so harsh with her. Her father raised the whip into the air; swung it behind his back and brought is whistling through the air down onto its moist and delicate target. I will never forget the feeling that went right through me as that girl's squeals made me cover my ears. Needless to say, after witnessing the spectacle for a few minutes we could no longer look at the mass of red and purple welts between Emma's legs without feeling queasy and the noise of the squealing was frightening. Jane and I soon crept away and the regular sharp cracking sound of whip against bare skin faded behind us. I did not know what to do with my feelings and promptly suppressed them. Jane and I never spoke of the incident ever. Emma was not seen for a few days and when she did eventually appear back at school she was sporting ugly purple welts on her legs, but I guess only Jane and I knew that they went all the way up to her sex.

I was awoken out of my daydream by the phone, as I got up I realised I should not have bothered to put on clean panties as I has soaked them through again. It was my friend Tina asking if I wanted to go out to a dance club that night. I talked for a while and declined her offer, promising that if I felt like it later on I'd meet her there. Normally I would have said yes immediately, this was the first evidence that my new-found interest was having an influence on my life. Back to my computer, I surfed the net well into the afternoon in search of information and other thrilling websites. Hours can quickly disappear on the Internet. I soon found out about the initials BDSM. I found many sites dealing with stories and pictures of the punishment of young girls. I was in no doubt that the majority of this material was for the enjoyment of men. Some of the stories and pictures lacked the tension and atmosphere of my initial finds in the erotic art categories. I did however find the resource pages useful, many contributions by women also. It was after reading a few accounts that I realised why the majority of the punishment sites did not thrill me as much as one might have expected. This was because the material was mainly aimed at people with a sadistic streak who liked to watch girls being hurt. I had discovered that I was a girl who was fantasising about the idea of being hurt, in short I was a submissive masochist, and I badly needed to express that side of my character or I was sure I would explode.

It had not been the sight of Emma or the fantasy of Lottie getting their whippings that had excited me. Rather it was the thought that I might be in their situation, and that I might get whipped in the same extreme way. Before I knew what I was doing I was walking around my apartment in just my wet cotton panties. Imagining I was waiting to be whipped. I stood in front of the dining table and put myself in Lottie's position. I thought about being watched by a room full of onlookers. I also considered that someone might look in through my windows so I closed the drapes and put on the lights. I lay back in an armchair, imagined it was the hay bale and swung my legs up an outward. I pictured a strong farmer in dirty dungarees brandishing the long leather whip. I was almost out of breath and mad with desire. I went to my wardrobe in my bedroom and went through my collection of belts, I found an old leather one, supple and about an inch wide, I wrapped the buckle end round my hand and went back to the chair. I got back into the "Emma" position and tried flicking the end of the belt between my legs. Gently at first, the splat of the leather against the wet cotton was a little sporadic as I adjusted the length of the belt and shuffled my position. Eventually I had a regular swing that got the end of the belt slapping onto the crotch of my panties more often than it missed. I gradually increased the force of the swings. The sound became quite loud and I was getting a satisfying sting as the leather tongue licked me in my most private area. Harder still and the stings were like hot shocks, making me gasp a little. Harder still, and I really felt it but my arm was weak, swinging in a most unnatural way, the sound was also quite loud and would be audible from outside. I was going to have to think more on this. I got up and took off the soaked panties. I went in to the bathroom and ran some water in the sink. I shaved the short vee of pubic hair off my mons. Now I had a little girl's sex, just like Emma, and Lottie. The difference with me was that I was so excited that I had dribbles running down my thighs from my slightly red glowing labia. I thought hard about how to satisfy myself. I wanted a little more pain, with less noise. I figured the position I was in was not good for self-whipping, I tried many positions swinging the belt this way and that. Eventually I found one that worked; I lay on the edge of my bed with my feet up on two chairs, which I'd placed in front of the bed. My knees were consequently raised and spread wide. I rested up on my left elbow and took the belt in my right hand. I could now swing my arm from behind my head right over and down. The first cracking shot sent me gasping, off the bed and onto the floor between the chairs. I got up and inspected the damage. There was a clear line where the edge of the belt had bitten in to the soft mons that had recently been shaved bare. The end had curled under and whipped into the delicate lips that protected my clitoris. The lips looked a little bruised, and my clit throbbed, it was red, hard and standing proud. I shuddered with fear and desire. How many could I take like that? I most definitely wanted more. I walked over to my stereo and put on a dance hits CD. The regular bass drum beat would be sufficiently loud to cover up any noises made by the belt. I got back into position, a few dummy swings to get in time with the music. I would whip myself on every fourth beat. I started lecturing myself in my head, as if a stern father or mother was scolding me. I was a disgusting girl, I had been caught masturbating, I had two pairs of wet panties that proved it, and I was going to get the leather belt on my bare clittie. I was going to get a dozen hard swats with the belt. I took a deep breath, braced myself and promised myself I'd keep the position until all twelve hard strokes had been delivered. My arm went back, I counted on the beat…One! My brain went into overdrive, concentrating on the aim and the beat. I fought to keep my legs open and my hips pushed out to receive the lash. White-hot pain shot through me, Every stroke snapped down on the throbbing bud of nerve endings and the surrounding tender flesh. My body was like a coiled spring, jerking under the impact of the supple leather… Twelve! I threw down the belt and curled up unto a foetal position on the bed, gasping and convulsing trying to ride out the searing wave of pain between my legs. I realised the position I was in was compressing the newly whipped area and so lay on my side with my legs spread and cunt gaping open. I gradually regained control of my breathing and opened my eyes. I was sweating profusely. Gingerly I put my hand between my legs. I panicked a little when my fingers brushed the strange-feeling ridge of swollen tissue that now protruded from my slit. The deep painful throbbing in my brain ensured that only the lightest touch was used in this self-examination. I touched my anus and followed up to the rear lip of my vagina. I slid my finger up, slowly parting the tender labia that were quite firmly stuck together. I shuddered again at the soreness I felt as my finger peeled the 2 bruised lobes apart. I reached the top of my slit and stopped. My finger now rested on my hugely engorged and swollen clit. Sharp stabbing pain here from the slightest touch. I shuffled up to try to see. The act of parting my fused labia had opened the floodgates and I was oozing all over the bed quilt. I got to my feet, my legs were wobbly and my arm ached. I hobbled carefully into the bathroom and got a bottle of moisturiser. I took a towel and went back to the bed. I spread the towel over the wet patch and lay with my bottom on it. I took some moisturiser on my fingertip and ever so, ever so gently massaged it round and round on my bruised clit. I lay back lightly applying the cool lotion to my tender flesh and within minutes was consumed by an almighty body-crushing orgasm, which had me screaming out loud in my moment of total abandon.

I was hooked; I had never ever felt like this. As I walked over to turn off the stereo I caught myself in the full-length mirror. I was thrilled by my bare mons with its red stripes, and besotted with my dangling labia and protruding clit. All I could think of was the phrase "what a naughty girl". My excitement was at a constant and breathtaking level. I washed myself carefully and slipped on yet another pair of panties. I chose a pair of black cotton/lycra sports briefs as I guessed I would need the extra absorbency. I put on a matching bra, my faded jeans and a sweatshirt. The jeans were quite tight and it was an effort to walk normally. I stood straight, marched up and down, checking in the mirror. I could handle the discomfort and was delighted at the thought of shuffling round the shopping mall having every step remind me of my punishment session. I made a mental note that for next time I would place the mirror between the chairs, and watch myself doing it. The very thought just about put paid to the extra absorbency idea.

I drove into the mall car park and had to park a long way from the entrance. I did not mind. A long walk in this condition could be so thrilling. I went straight to the lingerie store. I normally bought my underwear here. Mostly I bought plain everyday stuff but I like high quality. I like to wear thongs because most of my work outfits are fairly figure hugging and I don't like to see panty lines showing through. I have only small breasts so bras are usually a fancy accessory rather than a practical garment. I would occasionally splash out on something outrageously sexy if I was going out dancing or to a swish party. That was why I had come, I was going to go dancing with Tina after all and I was going to be giving myself a rare treat at the same time. Over in one corner of the store, away from all the French lace and satin, there was a collection of items for the more risqué customers. PVC, Rubber and Leather items, all beautifully made and rather expensive. An assistant offered help; I blushed a little and said I was just looking. After about ten minutes I settled on a half-cup bra and micro-thong made out of fine soft black leather. I selected an extra small size in the thong, and my usual 34b in the bra. I also picked up some opaque black lace-topped hold-up stockings to complete the set. Pleased with my purchase I then went over to my favourite boutique to look for a dress to wear. It only took me a few moments to decide that a black sheer little cocktail dress with silver sparkles in the semi-opaque chiffon would be perfect. I tried it on and was pleased to be able to see my bra and panties through the material and also that it would only just come down far enough to cover my stocking tops. I stopped to by a few cosmetics, and was on my way home within the hour.

The leather bra felt absolutely magical. I struggled a little to get the waistband of the tight thong over my hips, but once in place it hugged me perfectly in all the right places. I had been careful to apply a little moisturiser to my pussy lips and smooth them into place before hitching the leather gusset up into my crotch. The line of the thong was very sexy and so tight that the contours of my punished and still rather swollen lips and clit showed plainly through the fine smooth black leather. If walking around in tight jeans had required some self-control; just walking at all in the gripping leather thong was going to be a very memorable experience. I paraded about in my new leather underwear, I did my make-up and put on the stockings, and by the time I slipped into my new flimsy dress I was in a state of high arousal. Thank god the leather would prevent any leaking, because I knew my pussy was already awash. I called a taxi to the apartment to take me to the new downtown club that Tina had recommended. I had not been before but had heard it was really cool. I was wearing a long coat over my sexy new outfit and wondered if the taxi driver had any idea what I had been up to that day. I got there just as it opened, about nine thirty. Tina was already in the queue for non-members, I paid the cab and trotted over to her, the guys standing behind did not mind me standing in line with her. We giggled and talked a lot about what we'd been doing. I made everything up. Once inside the club we got a glass of wine each and sat at a table by the one of the dance floors and watched the people coming in. Within an hour the music was pumping, the bass vibrating through me setting up tingling sensations in my stomach. I'd had three glasses of wine and had been asked to dance twice. I'd said I was not ready. Now I was, I wanted to go and dance with one of the many fine young men that were eyeing Tina and me from the bar. Within another fifteen minutes I got my wish, Tina and I were both lead on to the floor and got lost in the heat and rhythm of the night.

I sometimes got taken home, and even laid if I met someone at a Night-club. I was very particular, and had a few men friends that sometimes got lucky; we were all young professionals who did not want any ties. Just good fun and the occasional sexual encounter with no obligations. All women enjoy the feeling of being made love to by a man they can trust, a closeness and warmth which is why many women do not get such a kick out of casual sex. I knew I could not take a man home tonight. One look at my pussy and he'd probably freak. This was a major deal with me now as I was so worked up that all I could think about was getting a good hard fucking. The guy I was dancing with was very energetic and muscular. We were both sweating a lot, he offered to get me a drink, and I went over to the bar with him. Tina was with one of her regular men. I was sure I knew what she'd be doing later. Jim, the guy I was with was well spoken and intelligent, he worked in publishing and was from the same part of town as me. We found we had friends in common and it reflected on how strange it was that we'd never met. After a couple of drinks he took me for a slow dance. It felt good, he was a good mover and held me close against is strong body. I was rubbing against his thigh, my leather-clad sex was begging for him. We kissed, softly at first, then more urgently. I whispered to him that I could not go home with him tonight, he pretended he did not mind. We went to a dark corner, we could kiss more passionately, and I allowed him to let his hands roam. It was not long until he discovered the leather between my legs. The effect was incredible, he begged me to come with him, I was in turmoil, I could tell from the throbbing that I was still very tender and probably quite swollen still, what would he think? I made an excuse and went to the ladies room. Once in a cubicle I took down the thong and got my compact mirror out, everything was very visible still, but the stripes on my mons had faded. I decided to risk it. Jim would have me tonight I'd have to say I was shy and do it with the lights dimmed maybe. Either way from the bulge in his pants he had a huge cock, and for me tonight size was very important, I felt like I wanted to be split wide open and be screwed until dawn. I went back to where he had been standing, he was gone, I waited, looking round, I began skirting round the club looking for him. Nowhere to be seen. I could not believe it, I almost cried with frustration. I got back to the table where I had left him and finished my glass. I noticed a card lying next to it. No number, no name just a website address. I was mad, puzzled and upset all at the same time. I called my cab and left for home.

I had my dress off before the door had slammed behind me. I rummaged for the rubber man and impaled myself on it for the next twenty minutes, scolding myself for being such a sucker, enjoying the pain as I rammed the solid buzzing stump hard between my still sore lips. I had literally just pushed the leather thong to one side and pushed in like an inconsiderate, drunk lover would have done. After the orgasm, I began to pull my act together. I was a little drunk; I made some tea, cleaned myself up and put on my robe. I shivered and sat huddled over my tea as the after shocks of my orgasm ran through me. I had never had such a day of utterly depraved self-abuse in all my twenty-six years.

I slept soundly with no further thoughts of depraved behaviour until the next morning when I awoke at six. I went to the bathroom. It stung a little when I took a pee. I wiped myself and checked out below with the small mirror. Most of the swelling had gone down but my labia looked a little darker then normal. The stripes on my mound had faded almost completely. I figured that the whipping I had managed to give myself was way short of anything Emma had suffered or my imagined Lottie for that mater. I took a long shower. I did not bother to dress, but I took out a fresh towelling robe and put it on. I sorted through my clothes from the night before. My dress and stockings smelled of smoke so I put then straight in the dry cleaning basket. My leather bra I hung up to air, the thong was really quite a disgusting article, I resolved to study the washing instructions later. I found the card I presumed was left by James. I went over to the computer and booted up. I typed in the web address once my browser had connected and waited with curiosity. The page went black, and then a title came up in fine silver script on a black velvet background. " Welcome to the Punishment Parlour…….…. A range of experiences for submissive ladies tailored to your specific needs." I nearly choked, I panicked and thought about what I had said to James, I'd been drunk, but surely I had not given him any ideas about my new desires. I was mortified to think he had even guessed that I might be interested in such perverted and depraved activities. I buried my head in my hands and was near to despair when the tune started playing. I looked up at the screen and there was a banner scrolling across. "Anonymity guaranteed. Exchange views with like-minded ladies. No need to be isolated unless you want to be. Any fantasy catered for with complete discretion. Excellent facilities." On and on it went to the tune of Billy Joel's "My Life" OK. So I was curious and I entered the site. It had no picture galleries but it did have a comprehensive list of services that were exactly what someone like me would be interested in. It also had a lot of advice about security over the web along with warnings about exchanging addresses and other information. To start the ball rolling, all I had to do was Email my fantasy punishment scenario to the posted Email address. It even advised me to do this from a hotmail account rather than from my personal or work Email account. If the scenario were accepted I would be contacted. I would be invited to go to their premises and take a tour of the facilities. If I wanted to proceed I would be given a price and some forms to sign and then send to their P.O. Box address. I would then be emailed a list of possible appointment times. I would choose one and the date would be set. Payment would be in cash and on the day.

There were a number of example scenarios listed, some which were really bizarre and some quite extreme. Some poor soul had wanted to be harnessed like a pony and chased round a ring with a cattle prod! Whatever turns you on I thought. I resolved to look into this a bit deeper. I had not made up my mind, but I knew I needed more than the self-flagellation session of the day before. I needed to be bound and totally helpless to really achieve my fantasy. It looked like the people at Punishment Parlour were specialists in that department. My first task was to write down my fantasy situation. There were instructions on how to do this without having to write a huge document. They wanted to know essentials, and how I wanted to feel at each stage. Punishment scenarios were explicitly catered for. There was a section that categorised punishments. Under flagellation there was much discussion about marks on the skin, severity and even risk of injury and how to avoid that. There was also a whole list of implements and their effects listed with the parts of the body to which they should be applied. I scanned the list to see if my particular area of interest was listed. It was! Genital flogging was listed with sub categories mild, strong, severe and extreme. This was a revelation; after all of the craziness of the previous day I had now found a place I could go to be tied down have my naked pussy soundly whipped, just like Emma or Lottie. There was a note also about fantasies that involved being seen by others. Some fantasies, like the one involving Lottie, involved a room full of onlookers. Other examples that they quoted were for instance, being exposed to other clients when being escorted to and from punishment sessions. To allow this to happen, some of the clients would have to agree that they would not object if they happened to observe other people engaged in their sessions. It was all very complicated, but had obviously been thought out carefully to try to accommodate the complex needs of people like me. I got myself a hotmail account and then went to get some coffee. I set about composing my fantasy situation.

I would take the role of myself but as a ten-year-old. Four years on from witnessing Emma being whipped in her fathers barn I would be very careful about my liaisons with boys. However I would be compensating for lack of contact with the opposite sex by becoming increasingly withdrawn and preoccupied with masturbating myself. Things would start going wrong when my mother discovers me playing with myself on a couple of occasions. I ignore her warnings and she catches me again. This time she tells my father, but he is not comfortable with disciplining me. (This was actually true) Instead he says that if my mother wants to have me punished she should talk to Bud Johnson. Mr. Johnson is Emma and Jane's father and he has confided in him that he really enjoys whipping his girls into shape in his barn. So, my mother makes arrangements, Mr Johnson says that if I do it again then all my mother has to do is deliver me to the farm on a Friday afternoon and I would be whipped that night and back home by the next morning. I become very secretive about my masturbation sessions from then on. In fact I start to do it at school and on the way home mostly for fear of being caught. However this is not a good solution. My mother is the one who does all the washing, and of course it is not long before she starts to notice the state that my school panties are getting in as a result of my off-base activities. One Friday when I come home later then usual, she stops me as I come through the kitchen. She makes me take off my panties there and then. The evidence is plain to see.

I had stayed behind to watch the school football team work out. I'd been with the guys afterwards, and had got myself groped on the way home, this had been seen by a well meaning friend of my Mom's who had phoned her right away to report me. I get sent upstairs to wash and put on clean panties. I am then taken round to Mr. Johnson's and left sitting in their living room while his wife calls him in from the barn. Johnson comes in holding the dreaded black driving whip. He questions me, and I deny all of the reports he has heard about. He tells me that liars get extra punishment. He tells me how much he loves to hear the special kind of squealing that a little girl makes when she is getting the horsewhip. He tells me about his girls when they are punished for masturbating and have to have their bare pussies horsewhipped. He said that he would prove I had lied and would give me it extra hard on my pussy. I start to cry and he then pulls out four pairs of my panties from his pocket. Each pair is heavily stained from my own secretions. My mother had taken them from the wash basket and given them to him in evidence. He says that I will have to come walk with him right along the road to the barn to be punished so that I would not disturb people too much with my screaming and bawling. I am marched out of the house. We pass several people on the road, all of whom stare and ask Johnson what is happening. I am in tears and he is carrying the whip and my panties openly for all to see. When the church warden asks him what we were doing. Johnson showed him the panties and nodded over to the barn. The warden nods knowingly and shakes his head in disgust. Once in the barn, I have to have my panties removed and get strapped-up exactly as Emma had been. I start to beg and struggle with the straps, while Johnson practises his swing. The whipping was thorough, my thighs and backside were covered in raised welts and between my legs got special attention. I was under the whip until after nightfall. After it was over Johnson stripped me naked and hosed me down with cold water. I was wrapped in towels and left to sleep in the barn until morning when I dressed and was driven home.

I added a few notes about how I would feel at each stage of the scene. I indicated that I wished for the severe application of a whip to my genitals. I also gave some indications about the presence of onlookers and then sent the Email.

The rest of Sunday was uneventful; I jogged round the park, called my folks and read magazines. Sunday evening I got myself prepared for work. It was going to be a busy week.

It was Wednesday night before I gave much thought to pursuing my submissive daydreams any further. Since Sunday I had not even had a chance to surf the net for any more wonderful pictures. I was driving back from work; the traffic was at a standstill. I was thinking about being home and having a glass of wine. I had resolved to shave my pussy that evening because the stubble was starting to itch. I used to get around to trimming my pubes and waxing my bikini line on a monthly basis or in between if I was going anywhere special. The process almost always had ended up in a date with my rubber friend. Now that I was shaved bare, this would be something I'd have to do every other day. When I eventually got back to my apartment I was really tired. I'd been thinking a lot about my fantasy and about other interesting scenarios. I started to change out of my work clothes. I hung up my suit jacket and unzipped the tight black mini skirt. Underneath I wore a grey silk camisole top and a matching lace trimmed thong. I took down my sheer hold-up stockings and noted that my legs needed sugaring. I went to the bathroom to run a shower. After the shower, I carefully shaved my pussy, rubbed in some moisturiser and put on my robe. I was delighted to find a reply on my hotmail inbox. My scenario was acceptable and I had been invited to look over the premises by a Miss Jennifer Higgs. I hadn't expected a woman and felt that this was a good arrangement. I could visit tomorrow night. The address was that of a legitimate beauty clinic in town. I was more than a little amazed by that.

The next day went by in a flux of anticipation. I left the office early to avoid the traffic and parked in a multi-storey lot below the block in which the Parlour was located. As I strode toward the elevator my tummy was in a knot of excitement and my mouth dry. I stepped into the brightly-lit reception area and rather timidly went up to the desk. The girl looked up. "Miss Jennifer will be along shortly Ma'am please take a seat." I wondered how she knew that I'd come to see Miss Jennifer, but put it down to the fact that maybe I was the only after-hours caller on the books that evening. Soon, Jennifer appeared. Petite, fair and slim with strong features wearing a business suit not unlike my own, she greeted me warmly and asked if I'd like any coffee or tea. I declined so she asked me to follow her through a red panel door behind the reception desk.

The door was very thick, as were the walls. "These are virtually soundproof" Jennifer explained, and went on to tell me that the legitimate beauty parlour was part of the same business and the same high standards applied. We were in a long corridor with many doors off on both sides. I was shown all kinds of different rooms. Changing cubicles, dark dungeon rooms with all manner of terrible torture devices. Large film-sets complete with lighting and props; it was an amazing place. I was told that they could attend to me on Friday, only 2 days time. If I had any "props" I wanted to be used in the fantasy enactment I should get them to the front desk by tomorrow night. Large Items could be collected and delivered to the trade address if I did not want to bring them myself. My legs were a little weak when I agreed the price and set the date for my punishment session. Jennifer told me that the actor that I was getting to play the part of Johnson was most impressive and that she was sure he'd do the role justice. There was one thing we still had to agree and that was the level of punishment I was willing to endure. "You have indicated that you want severe treatment, but I guess we should show you some photos with some comparisons." She took me to a room that was decorated like a little girl's bedroom. It had a pink quilt on the bed, dollies, teddy bears and all that stuff. On the floor were some girl's clothes, actually a cheerleader outfit complete with underwear. The bed had got a set of ropes at each corner post, and on the quilt, in the middle was a distinct wet patch. "This room has only recently been vacated by a young lady who has similar needs to yourself… She has herself photographed and I have some here taken over the last 6 months. One set from a strong session one from a severe and one from today's extreme session. I took each set of photos in turn. The woman was small and willowy with shoulder length brown hair. Her face was obscured by an eyemask and she had a ball gag strapped in place across her mouth. She looked very young. Each set had her start out dressed in a the cheerleader outfit, complete with pom-pom. She was scolded by a man twice her size, eventually stripped of her panties, shirt and bra. She was fastened to the bed face up with her legs wide open. Her short skirt was raised up over her tummy and a pillow placed under her backside, which exposed her gaping and totally shaved pussy.

In the next few shots she was shown being harshly whipped across her breasts and pussy. A belt was used in the first set, a leather whip in the second, and what looked like a long swishy riding whip in the third. I got very excited looking at the pictures. The belt gave her broad angry red welts, The riding whip made her bleed and left deep ridges all over her breasts and cunt. The whip had given her a well-defined set of hard purple ridges, the kind I longed to feel on my own private areas, but no blood was evident. I thought for a little while, and breathlessly agreed that I wanted to start off with severe treatment. Jennifer raised her eyebrows slightly. "OK" She said, "But we'll give you a secret word that you can shout out at any time in the session if you want to stop or change the level of severity." With that I was escorted back to my car, wished fond farewells and that was the deal struck!

My thong was soaking wet and had ridden up between my pussy lips. Once the car door was closed I hitched up my skirt to prevent a stain, and drove home with my wet bottom sticking on the leather car seat. On the way home I stopped off at a store and bought several pairs of little girl's panties. Large children's sizes would fit my small hips I was sure. I got some pink and white lace ones, and some with cartoon characters on.

I went to the ladies rest room and took off my wet thong and replaced it with a pair of girl's cotton high cut panties with Tweety Pie on the front. These panties were going to be my "props" they were a tight fit but they felt fine. By the time I was home Tweety had wet feet. My skirt had a wet patch and of course the driver's seat was stained… What is a girl to do? I was feeling very turned on, and stripped to my panties as soon as I got inside. I had printed off the pictures of Lottie. I took them into the bedroom and got out the vibrator. I rubbed myself with it urgently through the cotton panties and soon brought myself to an exquisite orgasm. Breathless I lay there, remembering the cheerleader tied to the bed getting her whippings. She must have been a very naughty girl indeed. I got up and rolled the panties off my hips and down my legs. There was a disgusting puddle of thick come in the gusset. I set them down in the corner of the tiled bathroom to dry out. I went to the wash basket and found the two pairs of tiny CK briefs I'd soiled over the last weekend. I had seen very young girls buying these and they were entirely consistent with the role-play of a fourteen-year-old. The fact that they were so badly crusted with my lustful discharge made them very convincing props for my fantasy. I looked through the other panties that I had just bought. The pink and white lace ones were very girlish, there was a bow on the front and little cupids either side. I tried them on for size, again quite tight but no problem. With my bare pussy showing through the thin lace and satin I really did look like a little girl again. These I would wear on Friday for the session. I thrilled at the thought. The others were lace-trimmed cotton. One pair had a Barbie logo, one had Pooh Bear and the last pair had a Pink heart shape. I resolved to wear these between now and Friday to get myself into my character. I already had some little white ankle socks and a white cotton CK bra that many young teenagers wore these days. I thought about buying a gingham frock similar to Emma's, but the cheerleader photos had given me another idea. I went to the bottom of my wardrobe and pulled a sports bag from the back. Inside were several sports outfits including a navy blue pleated skirt and a white tennis shirt. I had not worn them for years, but they were clean and ironed so I tried them on. I was delighted to find that the skirt fitted round my waist perfectly. It was however indecently short. That would not be a problem. The shirt complimented the outfit. I then went to my needlework box and found some pink and white satin ribbon. I put my hair in bunches at the side. I stood back and admired my new character in the mirror. The sight had me in floods almost at once. Pulling off the new panties in favour of the pink heart ones and sitting on a cushion in front of the mirror with them pushed to one side. I rammed my dildo in and out of my bare and gaping hole until I could hold back no more and collapsed into yet another brain scorching orgasm.

Thursday was really busy at work. I managed to send my props via courier to ensure they would be received in time. I got all my weeks work finished up so that Friday could be spent building up to my session. I phoned friends to check that no one was planning anything over the weekend that might be difficult to explain my way out of.

Friday morning came and I was more excited than I can ever remember being. I packed a sports bag with my fantasy outfit. I dressed in my usual office clothes except for the underwear, which was replaced with the white cotton bra and the pink and white girl's panties. I tried not to think about what was going to happen at six o'clock that evening. Once at work I was thankful that my morning was taken up with a series of urgent issues that required me to be occupied on the phone most of the time. I met Tina for lunch, she had been successful with her man at the night club and would be seeing him again tonight. She asked if I wanted to come. I said I was really tired after a long week, but if I felt OK later I might meet her there later. I could not resist the possibility that I might just be able to get into my leather underwear after my whipping and parade around the club looking for James.

I left the office at five and drove into town. I got to the car park at five forty-five. I was in a state of high anxiety now, I began asking myself what the hell I was doing. All the time though, deep down in me a little voice was saying "what a naughty girl" over and over again. At the reception desk I was asked to wait. People came and went, I wondered if anyone had any idea why I had come and what I was waiting for. The receptionist was very professional and gave no hint that she was in the slightest bit phased by what was going on. I had waited for about fifteen minutes when Jennifer appeared. "Hi Susan how are you today, please come through" I said hello and got to my feet, my legs faltered, my heart was pumping pure adrenaline. We got through the door and it closed behind us. "Susan, I am going to take you to a changing cubicle. I'll give you ten minutes to change into little Susan, I will then take you to meet Johnson, and he'll take it from there. OK?" I was unable to be coherent but nodded enthusiastically. I was left in a small locker room with a bench seat, clothes pegs and a lockable cabinet. I got out off my skirt, jacket and blouse and stood in my character underwear. I put on small white ankle socks and put the ribbons in my hair. The little thrills I had felt all day had left me suitably wet so that my performance in front of Johnson would be very convincing. I looked inside my panties and imagined the way things would look in an hour or so. I started to throb. I had just slipped on my skirt and shirt and shuffled into a pair of sandals when there was a knock at the door. I jumped, then opened the door to find Jennifer. "You ready Susan?" I was, and I followed her as she walked very slowly along the corridor. "Your secret call-off word is medicine. If you call out the word Medicine at any point during the fantasy, everything stops there and you get returned to the changing room and I will come and meet you there to see if you are OK. Also if you feint at any stage we will bring you round and I'll sit with you until you are able to go home." I was both soothed and distressed by these words. " Do you wish to have your session recorded in any way? We can do Video, Audio and stills. I thought about it, my mind was all over the place. " I'd like you to record the sounds please." I said in a small voice. "Can I get a cassette of the sounds please?" I asked. "Yes, no problem, I can do that for you." Jennifer smiled and stopped at a door on the left. "Here we are." She said. "Ready?" I just nodded slowly, she knocked on the door turned and walked back along the corridor.

The door opened slowly, I gazed up at the man that stood in the doorway. He was enormous. Way over six feet tall and with a broad and muscular body. I felt small. I was fourteen again. He wore faded denim dungarees and a check shirt. He had a short grey beard and the meanest blue eyes I ever saw. He looked right through me. "Huh, If it aint the Harper girl come to get a whippin', better come inside missy." I shuffled silently inside and past his massive figure. He closed the door. We were in the girl's bedroom I'd seen before. "Your Mommy say's you need a real good whippin' girl, how about you tell me what it is you've been up to and why you deserve it." I stammered and stared back at his piercing blue eyes. "I, I don't know, I've been good but my Mommy thinks that I was being naughty at school because I was a little wet when I got home sir."

"Oh I see, so it's all a mistake, is it? You are tellin' me your Mom doesn't know when her daughter is goin' bad is that right?" His voice was more menacing.

"Yes, sir I'm a good girl sir"

"You are a LIAR miss" He shouted and made me jump. "Your Mom knows what you are doing, you are a disgusting and depraved little slut, and you are going to be whipped for that. My girls get the whip on their bare backsides when they are out of line. I give 'em it good and hard so they remember it. When they play with their pussies, and all you little girls do it, they get the whip on their pussies as well. Do you know how much that hurts? Did you ever hear how my girls squeal when they are getting their pussies whipped for playing with themselves? Do you know what happens when they think they are smart, and try to lie their way out of it? Well? They get it whipped twice over real hard so they beg me to stop!"

I felt like feinting but I remembered what Jennifer had said. I felt an incredible mix-up of emotions, the first tears came. My panties were overwhelmed and the fluid started to run down my legs. Johnson reached down under the bed and stood back up with a black driving whip in his hand. Just like the one that had been used on Emma.

"Now, miss, let me see if your Mom is right about you, I want you to lift up your skirt and take your panties down to your knees."

I did as I was told and revealed the disgusting mess.

"Keep that skirt up so I can see your pussy!"

He bent down, reached out and fingered the soaked gusset of the lace panties. He then took the end of the whip handle and gently ran it up my thigh. He retrieved it and examined the wetness on the end. "I think your Mom was right, you do need a good hard whippin' don't you?"

"Please, sir I don't play with myself, I couldn't help getting wet sir I never get like this normally, please don't whip me" I was getting into character now and knew that by protesting my innocence I'd get deeper and deeper into trouble.

"You just don't get it do you?" He stared at my naked wet pussy. "Your mother knows everything you do, look at these, can you explain this?" And with that he fished my props out of his pocket. The pairs of come encrusted panties were set out on the bed with the stains clearly apparent. "I'm going to have to take you way over to my barn, otherwise the noise is goin' to disturb the neighbours, pull up your panties, you're coming for a walk.

He pushed me out into the corridor and prodded me in the back with the whip handle, "Walk" I did as I was told and slowly walked in front of him getting the occasional prod from the whip handle. He threaded the panties over his left arm so they hung obviously and showing the stains. He walked me up and down the corridor a couple of times, we passed some other people who looked at us appreciatively obviously enjoying the implications of what they saw. We got to the end of the corridor furthest from the red door, he opened a set of double doors. "In here he said" and shoved me backwards through the doors. He closed them behind us, we were in the 'barn' There was the Big spoked wheel of the buggy mounted on a large wooden board which had the rest of the buggy painted on it, just like a theatre set. The hay bail was already in place, as were the leather straps and buckles.

"OK missy take off your panties, you won't be needing them for a little while" I did as I was told, he held out his hand and took them from me. "Now I'm going to have to strap you down so you can't move or we'd be here all night" He picked up a strap and bound my wrists to the top of the buggy wheel. He then slipped off my sandals and strapped each of my ankles above my head. I was totally open. Anus and vagina completely exposed. The thrill and fear in me was almost unbearable, I was starting to gasp, and hyperventilate. I thought about "medicine", and also about the cheerleader's whip marks. I thought about my leather thong and the dance club, I closed my eyes. Johnson swished the whip in the air. It's whistle made me cringe. I looked up and he was practising. "You'll get it on your legs, your backside, your butt-hole and your pussy. You can't escape it. There is no point in lying anymore. Because you lied already two times you are going to get two extra whippings of twelve lashes each just on your pussy after the main punishment is over. You can scream all you like, but you will be whipped!"

With that he carefully laid the whip's end between my cunt lips so that the tassle touched my throbbing clit. That is when I noticed the mirrors. Two large full-length mirrors had been placed so that I could observe myself. Every detail was clearly visible to me and despite the terrible fear that I felt, I was at the point of orgasm. I braced myself and pulled hard on the straps with my leg and arm muscles.

The first lash bit hard with a loud splat into my slit sending a stabbing shock through my clit. A split second and the pain hit me. Words can not describe it. Only my blood-curdling scream could do it justice. I convulsed and gasped in my bonds unable to do anything to ease the fire burning between my legs. The next lash slashed across my right buttock. It made a sound like a gunshot, I screamed again, just as the third lash mirrored the second but on the left side. The fourth was back to my pussy, this time the end landed on my mons and the whip curled over my clit, between the lips again and on to my anus. My back bounced up and down on the bale. I could hardly catch my breath between screams. The whipping continued, criss crossing from one buttock or thigh to the other and then on my pussy in strict order. Between screams I was able to open my eyes to glimpse at the mirrors. I could see the tramlines clearly on my legs and buttocks. I looked down between my legs and saw three purple stripes on my stomach running up from my mons. The whole of my upturned rear was soon covered in welts and I was screaming and sobbing so much I could no longer focus my eyes on the mirrors. Johnson was really whipping me. Beneath the scorching hell pain of the terrible welts on my skin, I felt the deeper thud of the whips impact. It was this that I tried to concentrate on. Deep down in my writhing straining muscles the regular waves set up but the impact were beginning to build. I shook my head and wiped the sides of my face on my upper arms. I looked down and saw my mons and tummy was now covered in purple lines radiating out from my pussy. I knew I would not need to shout medicine now. I just screamed until my voice was breaking.

I looked up through my tear and sweat soaked hair. Johnson stood there, his mean eyes smiling cruelly. "Heh missy you scream even better than my own two girls, not such a sassy smart mouth right now are you?" I could not answer, I was wrestling with my pain and degradation. "Well, that's what your Mom wanted for you. So as you learn not to finger yourself and mess-up all your panties. Did you learn your lesson girl?" I could not bring myself under sufficient control to respond. "Well, it don't matter none, I'm gonna rest my arm a little." He rubbed his thick upper arm as the whip trailed on the floor. "Then I'm gonna tie you a little different, and then you are gonna get to do some more screamin' while I give you what you deserve for lyin' to me" He shook his head and paced up and down. My breathing was still irregular and I was still screeching in agony each time I exhaled, but I would have begged for more of the whip if he had told me it was over.

After a while he put the whip down next to me on the bale. He untied my ankles and roughly manhandled my shuddering legs so that I was upended, resting on my shoulders with my knees pressed against the rim of the buggy wheel. He strapped them to the wheel and strapped my ankles together behind it. During this operation he leant over me brushing against my raw bottom and thighs. When he had finished I was spread open impossibly wide, my whipped hole and slit uppermost and totally exposed. I was looking up at my blistered mons and could not believe the black lumps of leathery blisters that my clit and labia had become. It was hard to breathe in this position and I struggled to take deep breaths of air that was heavily scented with my own arousal. He rested the whips tassle on my clit again, I braced against the wheel and the leather straps. The shrill whistle made me cringe, shut my eyes and squeal with all my remaining strength, deep bruising pain shot through me and my spine thrashed as if it were carrying ten thousand volts. Again and again the whip thrashed my pussy, the perineum and my anal bud. Hard cracking licks from the hot and wet leather whip. Each time it struck home I felt the spray of my own fluids splash onto my face, even tasting it as I gasped in the air between urgent and pitiful cries. Twelve short sharp swats seemed to be over quickly compared to the first set. I knew I still had another dozen to take. I thought my heart was going to burst, I was in a lather of sweat. My pussy was now oozing a long trickle of clear mucus from between the impossibly swollen lips. Johnson started to untie my knees. I wailed incomprehensibly as he manhandled me into another position. This time I was kneeling with my thighs spread, my hands still strapped to the top of the buggy wheel behind me. I was leaning right back as far as I could with my hips pushed out.

My whipped buttocks and thighs throbbed against my calves and feet. Johnson lifted my skirt off my lap and tucked it into the waistband to expose my purple striped tummy and mons. He stood to my right side and laid the whip along the line of my groin. "Be sure you keep your legs spread Miss or we got to start over" I did my best to present myself for the whip's final assault. I braced and gathered deep breaths for the next bout of screaming. My legs were not tied so I would be expected to keep them spread open to allow the whip to punish my pussy. He lifted the whip out from between my legs, raised his arm and the whistle came followed by the now familiar report of the leather tail lashing into my blistered swollen slit. I strained with all my might to keep my thighs parted, my whole body shaking as I absorbed yet more burning pain. The whip had flicked mercilessly onto my already punished clit. It was sticking out proud of the labia, all hard and red and the size of a cherry. I screamed at the top of my lungs as the next five lashes whipped into exactly the same spot. This was hell, a new dimension. The closest I came to shouting medicine. There was a moment's respite as Johnson went round to the other side. I closed my eyes and breathed out. I let my head fall back between my tethered arms I relaxed myself and then pushed my hips up and spread myself as wide as I could to welcome the next six. I knew they would take me to a more extreme and yet exquisite level of sheer pain and submission than I had ever dreamed possible. I contained my screams and after the first stroke I stared up and watched Johnson's cruel eyes as he concentrated on what he was doing.

He released my wrists and I quickly got onto my hands and knees, legs parted to try to ease the burning pain. I looked over my shoulder into the mirror. Backside covered in welts, pussy still oozing from black puffy labia, and my hard whipped clit standing proud. My hot tears were still flowing as I staggered to my feet, very unsteady I pulled my lace panties back on. I eased into them very carefully, the pain level shot up. I smoothed down my skirt and tried to control my breathing. I was lead slowly, hobbling back to the changing booth.

Once back in the booth, Johnson left and I bolted the door. I held my head in my hands and wept, my emotions were in turmoil. I undressed. I noticed flecks of blood had spotted my panties. Not surprising considering the beating I had taken. I turned on the shower and pulled out the wash pack from my bag. I was still trembling and very unsteady on my legs as I gingerly soaped myself in the gentle warm spray. I washed my hair and gradually my breathing started to relax and my heart stopped pounding. The warm water and soap burned on my whipped skin. I towelled down very carefully. When I was dry I put the towel round me and took out a bottle of moisturiser. I lifted the towel above my waist and started to gently apply the soothing lotion to my punished backside. I could not contain the thrill of running my fingers over the hard raised welts. I began to feel an inner peace take hold and counter the raging soreness that still pulsed through every nerve in my lower body. I leant against the wall and pushed my behind out, one hand supporting me and the other rubbing the lotion down in between by corrugated buttocks. There was a light tap on the door. I jumped. "Susan, It's Jennifer, may I come in and give you a check up to ensure you are OK after your session?" I'd forgotten that the regulations specifically stated that a member of the staff would need to check me over before I left to ensure no permanent damage was done and that I was satisfied with the service. I shrugged and opened the door. The towel was still above my waist when Jennifer walked in. "Oh Susan!" She exclaimed, "you really have been a naughty girl haven't you." Her eyes were alight and fixed on my bare whipped cunt. "Jennifer, it was beyond anything I'd expected." I started to cry again, big tears for no reason I could think of. "Here," Said Jennifer. "Let me help with that." Before I knew what was happening Jennifer was very gently applying moisturiser to my inner thighs. Lightly massaging my purple welts with her fingertips. I leaned with my back to the wall, hips forward and legs apart. Gradually Jennifer soothed me, she spoke softly about how naughty girls need to be whipped so hard, but that they also need to be loved and made better afterward. Soon her fingers were brushing against the hugely inflamed labia that protruded from my blistered slit. I remembered the image of Emma being groped by that boy on the farm so long ago. Jennifer applied more lotion to her fingers. She applied the lightest touch to my red and bulging clitoris, my body began to spasm, I stifled a scream, lost myself and came in such violent jarring waves that I slid down the wall and slumped to the floor. I had never ever felt such complete release in all my life.

Jennifer helped me to dress, I put on a flimsy pair of satin tap panties which fluttered between my legs with no elastic except for around the waist. I slipped into my bra, eased up my hold up stockings which stung my whipped thighs. Soon I was Susan the business girl again, at least outwardly. I tied my damp hair up, applied a little lipstick and shadow. I hugged Jennifer and she then opened the door and escorted me to my car. Walking was not easy. It felt like I was gripping a hot potato between my upper thighs. I strode slowly but purposefully trying not to let the pain show on my face. Jennifer said goodbye and said she hoped I'd be back soon. I agreed and waved as she walked back to the parlour entrance. I looked around the car park before getting into the car. No one was about. I lifted my skirt up over my waist before quickly slipping into the driving seat. As I drove home in the darkness I let my hand wander over my thighs and belly thrilling at the feel of my blistering welts and wondering if I dare to get out my rubber friend when I got home.