First she took the flesh of the right cheek between her thumb and index finger, squeezed the soft flesh firmly and turned her hand around. Grushenka put her own hand to her mouth so as not to cry out aloud, for it hurt her terribly. She leaned forward, trembling in her legs. The girl watched with pleasure. The pinched spot first turned snow white and then deep red. “Now you look all uneven,” she remarked. “We can't stand for that-“ and she pinched the left cheek in the same way. Not content with that, she attacked different points above and beneath the bruised area and admired her handiwork with laughter. Grushenka suffered under each pinch as if fire burned her buttocks. Between pinches, the girl reached through Grushenka's legs and pulled the hair of her Venus' Hill, not very hard, but hard enough to make her groan aloud. Meanwhile Grushenka had the feeling that she had to pass water. But she was afraid to do so over the customer's hand-Madame Brenna's whip would have been the consequence. Now the girl got bored with her doings. “Sorry,” she said, “that we haven't a whip or a switch here. Otherwise I would erase the nice design which I made on your bottom.” Grushenka straightened up and turned around. The girls' eyes were fastened on her full breasts. “How I'd love to whip your breasts,” she went on, “with a small leather strap, the one I have at home for my lap dog. It would be a pleasure to see your breasts, of which you're so proud, prettily striped with the lash. You see, I don't like to hit you with my hands because that hurts me and wouldn't go through your thick skin anyway, you slut.” Nevertheless, she made Grushenka hold her breasts with both hands while she struck her a couple of times with her bare hands. Grushenka was able to catch these slaps with her hands, but it stung her anyway not a little. This over, the girl demanded her satchel, out of which she took a large artificial male organ. She laid herself on the massage table, opened her legs, had Grushenka stand close to her and gave her the pseudo-phallus. Grushenka opened the lips of the love nest with her left hand and with the right she carefully sunk the dildo into the waiting orifice. The girl now became very passionate. She put her right hand between Grushenka's thighs, near the cleft, and clamped her hand into the flesh, sinking the nails into Grushenka's soft skin. At the same time, she held her left hand tightly on her own well-formed bosom and worked her buttocks against the false shaft in a quick rhythm. Grushenka duplicated this rhythm by easing the artifice into the love nest up and down. The girl heaved heavily, whispered the name of her imaginary lover and moved her buttocks up higher and higher until, when she reached her climax, she rested only on her shoulders and on the soles of her feet. She then fell back on the table and lay motionless while Grushenka removed the intruding shaft and cleaned the girl with a wet towel. Grushenka was glad that it was over, but that proved a mistake. As soon as the girl came to, she had another scheme. “Give me the dildo!” she commanded. “And you go down and give my sweet little nest a good licking and don't stop before I tell you. Understand? No, that's not the right spot. Stick out your tongue, you stupid fool! Deeper. Yes, that's it”
Grushenka had her head buried between the thighs of this newly rich girl who revenged her own poor childhood with its many whippings and humiliations by taking it out on another girl. Grushenka had practiced using the tip of her tongue for some time, and, although she knew how she had formerly done it, she worked too quickly and pressed her mouth too hard into the opening, so that she soon was breathless and her tongue became sore. The girl had crossed her legs behind Grushenka's neck and pressed her tightly against herself. She was not yet excited because she had just come under the pressure of Master Phallus. This dildo she held playfully in her hands, placing it between her breasts, tickling her nipples, finally kissing it all along the shaft and then inserting it into her mouth and sucking it with delight. She did not concentrate on the feelings of her love nest beyond the agreeable tickling which Grushenka's tongue-play produced.
Grushenka stopped for a moment, getting her breath and resting her tongue, and, looking up, saw the shaft disappearing and re-appearing from the mouth. The fair patroness was not willing to let her have a rest, and hit her on the back with the soles of her feet.
Grushenka resumed her occupation. This time she held the orifice open with her left hand and, coming from underneath, inserted the index finger of her right hand into the love cavern and massaged the passageway all the way along until the womb seconded the efforts of her tongue to make the little love place spend. This method apparently met with the approval of the buttocks, because they started to move up and down, first slowly, then increasing their tempo to such a degree that Grushenka had a hard time keeping the tip of her tongue exactly at the right spot. However, it was the desire of her patroness to prolong the play. She twisted away, even took the priceless shaft out of her mouth and ordered Grushenka to stop. But Grushenka hung on. She kept her mouth close to the target and made love to the girl with all her might. Finally the girl gave up fighting and reached a climax. She lay panting, while Grushenka took a soft towel and rubbed her legs, belly, breast and arms, removing the sweat and giving her at the same time a strengthening massage. Her customer had her eyes closed and seemed to sleep. Grushenka was about to leave, when the girl got up lazily, gave her a malicious look and started for the door. Grushenka thought she was going to the tub. Instead, the girl opened the door and motioned Madame Brenna, who, always on the watch, came swiftly inside. “I always pay well and you know I never complain,” said the girl, “but look at this serf girl here. She is so lazy that when I tell her to kiss me a little, she just gives me words. I don't care what you do about it, but you know that there are the aristocratic bath halls where I should have gone in the first place…” “Is that so?” asked Madame Brenna with a grin and a severe look in the direction of Grushenka. “I'll wake the bitch up, if you permit. Come here, Grushenka, and lie over this chair. Yes, the bottom up.” Grushenka did as told. Her head hung down. Her hands held the legs of the chair with an anxious grip. Hex poor buttocks were turned up. Madame Brenna took a towel, held it in water until it was soaking wet and put her left hand firmly on Grushenka's back. She saw the marks of the pinching and guessed the rest of the story. But Grushenka, trembling and weeping and protesting her innocence, now lost control of herself entirely. She not only felt like making water, nay, she made water! In a big stream the yellow liquid ran out of her orifice and over her thighs onto the carpet.
The girl laughed aloud. After the sadness and bad mood which had followed her two orgasms, she now felt delightfully happy. Madame Brenna, however, became really angry. The wet towel proved to be a more painful instrument than a switch or a leather strap. While the latter gave the kind of stinging cut suggested by its switching sound through the air, the wet towel gave only a thud when it hit, but it crushed the flesh, inflicting the pain of a contusion. Madame Brenna understood perfectly how to handle a wet towel on a naughty girl's buttocks. She had perfected herself through over a score of years, and Grushenka's buttocks were just another behind to her. “Such a lousy girl, to ruin that good rug,” she thought, and Grushenka soon was purple-red from the knees to the small of the back. She howled and squealed like a pig being killed. She tossed about in her awkward position. Her tear-dimmed eyes fixed on her own knees, which she saw underneath the chair seat. On her body, arched so that the buttocks were its highest point, the blows rained with awful strength- swap-swap-swap! Madame Brenna did not count the strokes.