Victoria glanced once again at Stacy. The girl's big brown eyes were looking right back at her. In those eyes were love for Victoria, and they were the submissive eyes of a girl who was going to be whipped looking into the eyes of the girl who would do the whipping. They were eyes of total surrender.
The effect on Victoria Palmer was devastating… she would have to change panties when she got home.
Victoria chose her prettiest white shorts to wear for the whipping, and elected to be bare-breasted.
After all, it was the first occasion of whipping for the lovely Georgia young lady. She looked at her-
'self in the mirror and liked what she saw. She had chosen one of the new whips and had tried its pliability in her bedroom, snapping and swishing it in mock reality. Its very sound made her nipples stand up.
Stacy and Sondra sat in the lawn chairs near the post, and the sight of Victoria walking elegantly towards them was exciting. Victoria knew how to walk, and her full breasts bounced perfectly. Stacy reached out for Sondra's hand and squeezed it briefly before the two of them stood up. Girls did not sit when approached by their employers
They had decided that Stacy would go first by flipping a coin, and as Victoria arrived, she curt- syed, straightened up, and removed her clothes.
Naked, Stacy went to the post. One didn't wait for such an order. A girl simply went to the place of punishment on her own. Stacy had not been lashed at a post before, nor struck anywhere but on her bottom, and in a way was anxious to sample the traditional Southern-style flogging. Without being told, she put her hands high up to the wrist mana- cles which hung silently from the top of the heavy oaken post. Victoria adjusted the linkage so that
Stacy rested only on her tiptoes. Visions of Civil
War plantations flashed through Stacy's thoughts.
Sondra was well trained in whipping formalities among servants. A girl did not sit and watch a sister servant whipped. It was a basic rule. She stood near the recipient and watched every single lash strike. The purpose of such formalities was ancient, and dated back to Roman days. Having to watch the effect of the whip on another girl, pre- ceding one's own whipping, naturally added to the punishment. To watch the weals form, knowing that one's own flesh would soon be so marked simi- larly, was additional torture. It was why it was better to go first, if possible.
"In the South, the lashes are counted," said
Victoria. "When there are two girls, one counts them for the other. Also, by custom, a girl an- nounces her reason for being whipped. Even a wife when she's punished. You may begin, Stacy."
"I put my hand on your thigh, Miss Victoria, while we were driving home. I shouldn't have done so, and should be whipped for taking such liberties without permission."
"Upon my thigh, Stacy? Where? I would say if it was just above my knee it would merit twenty lashes. If your fingers went up further, then it should be more."
"I… touched you… all the way up, little by little."
"Goodness, girl. That's at least forty… unless you actually got to my underpants… then that would be fifty."
"I touched your pants, Miss Victoria… you know I did."
Victoria was pleased with herself. The word games certainly added quite a bit to the excite- ment.
"Fifty lashes it is then. Forty on the backside of you, ten on the breasts. Are you ready to count,
Sondra?"
"Yes, Miss Victoria, I'm ready."
"Call her a name, Sondra, and ask that it begin.
You know that she was bad."
"You're a little bitch, Stacy. You shouldn't have done what you did. Whip the little bitch, Miss
Victoria."
Stacy knew that word games were a sophisti- cated addition to whipping. It was, in effect, a per- formance, which milked all the eroticism possible from the situation. Yet, even though she knew
Sondra's words were true and that Sondra meant them, they stung, as they were supposed to. But she knew that a companion servant, even if in love with her, must always honestly urge that punish- ment be given if needed.
For the first time in her life, Stacy felt a whip slice hotly across her slender back. Victoria waited before issuing the second, for she wished to study the slowly blooming streak. Like anything else, whipping took practice and experience to become perfect and it was, of course, Victoria's first ven- ture into the wealing of girl flesh. The lash mark was not livid enough, she realized. She knew well how a proper mark should appear, having seen many, many whippings, and naturally studying ,her own striations on plentiful occasions. The second lash brought a hiss from Stacy. Too hard. It had sliced her skin slightly, and a red trickle oozed slowly downwards. The third was much better. The streak was red, and brought the properly raised ridge of skin. Comfortable now with the right amount of strength and the perfect, sharp retort,
Victoria settled down to her task while Sondra loudly called out the numbers. Forty lashes would just nicely cover Stacy, from shoulderblades to the middle of her thighs. One, naturally, did not whip a female in a pattern of inch by inch descension.
That was indeed much too mechanical and allowed the recipient to gauge where her next reception would occur. Thus the lashes should be varied in alternation, high on the back, the upper thighs, the buttocks. Occasionally, two in the same place. Any unpredictable pattern to keep a female guessing.
Stacy did quite well, it being the tenth stroke before she began her oral response of any signifi- cance. Occasionally, one or the other of her legs would bend upwards in response to a particularly punishing reception. If a bystander happened to witness the scene at the post, he or she would of course see the lashes fall, and hear the sound of the whip and the yowls. But the spectator would not be able to see inside the thoughts of the three females who acted out the age-old activity. Each had definite emotions and feelings, quite independ- ent of the actual physical activity involved.
For the girl being whipped, Stacy, the normal feeling of utter and complete submission was quite strong. In addition, a girl always reflected on the significance of what was happening to her and, to a great degree, the eroticism of it. In this case,
Stacy's strongest thought was that she was naked, and that another female was whipping her back and bottom with purpose and pleasure. She reflect- ed on the whipping of females since the beginning of man. Why were females whipped almost as a matter of course? Why was the appeal so great that even other females eagerly wished to lash females?
For the whipper, Victoria, her emotions were, quite truthfully, mainly sexual, It was only normal for any girl to be aroused in whipping another.
Why deny it? Was there any chance that she would feel at least a tiny bit of sympathy for the stria- tions which she caused on Stacy's skin? None at
all. Females do not for a minute have any reserva- tions about such things, especially a female who herself has tasted the whip. Turnabout is very fair play.
For Sondra, the complexity of her thoughts was probably the most interesting of all three, even though she was the- only one not physically in- volved at the moment. Firstly, she saw the hurt and the results of the lashes on Stacy's flesh, knowing full well that in a short time her body would also be subject to such serious punishment.
It was quite significant to be made to watch first.
Secondly, her thoughts about Stacy's whipping were threefold, and terribly intertwined. Stacy was her friend, sister-servant, and definitely her lover.
Thus, in one way, she was not overjoyed to watch her loved one hurt. But, Sondra was a highly trained servant, and a real girl, and she knew that her friend deserved the whipping without question.
Thus, in a directly opposing thought, she was pleased to see her whipped to teach her a lesson.