When I got home and naked I became excited again seeing my striped body in the mirror and decided not to put on the salve to feel the tingling as long as possible.
I went to bed to finger my pussy but I found I had become so jaded from the pain and his marvelous dildo that it just felt good to relax me but I could see I could spend hours doing it without an orgasm. Suddenly I remembered that lying on my stiff wool rug while wearing my panties to watch TV had irritated my skin so much I had gotten up and laid down a sheet.
I got off the bed and laid on the rug. It was wild! With my tender welts it felt like thousands of pins were sticking me. I rolled over on my front and rubbed my breasts and nipples against it while I buried three fingers in my pussy and humped my hand. That worked! I had a very satisfying orgasm so I could go to bed and instantly fall asleep.
Fortunately I had easy classes that quarter because I went through the week like a robot. Anytime I was not actively taking notes in lectures or studying I was daydreaming about my experiences. I also did some research.
My readings of psychology were counter-productive because they treated masochism as if it was an aberration that needed to be cured and their explanations referred to childhood trauma. I could not think of anything bad that had happened to me as a child. I became much more interested in books like, "The Story of O," Marquis De Sade works and others that celebrated the joys of pain. I worked through subjects alphabetically from corporal punishment to torture. One book really fascinated me. It talked about nurses that were captured by the Nazis or Japanese who were able to disconnect themselves from even the most horrendous tortures and described a feeling of rapture which I translated to orgasms. It was a rare ability and I was proud I could be included in this favored few. It was a fantastic relief to find I was not a pervert especially when I discovered a Catholic religious group called the "Flagellants" That either whipped themselves or had others do it to get a "Religious experience" which I also assumed meant orgasm.
I began to wonder just how much pain I could endure and still be able to cancel it out. I really appreciated the fact Ted had the large mirror and for the most part whipped me without blocking my view. I found out why he did it that way later on. I spent so much time looking at my naked body in my mirror imagining the whip wrapping around my side to hit my pussy or breasts I decided to improve on it by going to expensive women's stores that had large dressing rooms with mirrors on all the walls so I could see how I looked in different poses and which ones gave the best view of my gaping pussy. It excited me to perform obscene poses so close to other people I could hear them talking outside my door. Sometimes I stayed in there so long a clerk would knock on the door to see if I needed help. Once I heard a man's voice just after I had put on a tiny bra and panty set I had brought in as an excuse to use the room. He was asking me if I needed help obviously curious as to why I was in there so long. I thought this might satisfy my urge to exhibit myself. I answered, "Yes, could you come in and see if I have the right size." He probably thought I was wearing a dress, his eyes got huge when he saw me leaning against the back mirror wearing a tiny silk gauze G-string and tiny bra of the same material that brazenly showed my nipples and the slit of my hair-less pussy. He coughed in embarrassment then turned his head and said, "I think that only comes in one size." No matter how he turned his head he could see a reflection of me in the mirrors. I grinned at him and said, "Yes but it is loose here and here. Can anything be done about that?" At "Here" I touched my pussy and nipples. He coughed again but no longer looked away. I could see the front of his pants growing a bulge as he answered, "I think you just have to tighten the straps."
His dick really grew when I said, "I tried that but when I do this," I pulled my elbows back to push my nipples tight against the gauze. "Or this," I spread my legs so wide I could see my lips open. "They just loosen up again. See if you can fix it."
Sweat popped out on his forehead as he came over to me to pull the elastic waistband higher and tighter then pulled up on the elastic going through the crack of my ass. He got braver then and smoothed the gauze over my pussy pushing in more than he needed to and said "Try it now." I spread my legs while we both watched it avidly in the mirror as pink appeared then closed them again. The gauze remained tight. He took a deep breath then said, "I see the problem. We need to take a couple of inches out of the elastic. Take them off and I will have our seamstress tighten them up and you can pick them up tomorrow." I knew he meant after he left but I said "Okay." and pulled them off to hand them to him. He stared at my nude pussy while I slipped off the bra. I watched his dick jump under his pants.
It was exciting at the time to make him horny but I ended up wishing I had resisted the impulse because he followed me around like a puppy after that ruining my chance to fantasize in front of the mirror. I was not interested doing it for him again because he was wearing a wedding band and would only use me to get horny for his wife.
I tried rubbing on the rug again but by the next day my skin had healed to the point it was just irritating rather than painful.
By Friday I was desperate for excitement. As planned I just wore a loose dress which I tucked up so my bare butt would be on the car seat.
Again he met me at the door barechested. I anxiously waited for him to tell me how I would be punished since so far it had always been different. It was to be wildly different.
He seemed a little disappointed to have me take off my dress to be instantly naked. He must have missed the strip-tease. I decided that next time I would wear more clothes. I could always leave the panties and bra off when I went home.
He said, "I have good news, bad news, and other news that I don't know whether you will like or not."
"Okay, what is the good news."
"I made you a new whip. It is just leather boot strings braided together. Feel it. It is soft and real light."
I took it from him to study it. He had braided four boot strings together and nailed them to a short broomstick. It was light and only about a half- inch thick but there was a real hard knot at the ends of it that looked as if it may dig in. In any case it was the lightest whip so far.
I rubbed it across my nipples as I asked, "What is the bad news?"
The judge thinks at least thirty lashes should fall on your most sensitive parts. Your breasts and pussy. That is why I made you a smaller whip."
That was not bad news. It excited me but I was not ready to admit to him how much pain excited me.
"Oh God! I am going to be awfully sore afterward, aren't I?"
"Possibly. Just in case I have already filled the tub with cool water."
I thanked him for being so thoughtful and gave him a hug. Again he pushed me away.
Then I remembered there was more. "What is the news you aren't sure of?"
"The judge said I always had you tied up for the whipping and I had told him you would make retribution willingly. He wants you to take them in certain poses untied to show you are willing."
That would allow me to move to direct the lashes where I wanted them. I was quick to agree.
He took me to my room of torture. He had put pipe through the cuffs to make a trapeze about waist high. He told me to rest my lower stomach on it and hold on to my ankles. I would be able to see the lashes hit from between my legs. I said excitedly, "Oh this is wild. I will be able to see you hit my butt and pussy."