The three bare domestics were already squirm- ing and wiggling on the bedspread, their arms around each other. Commercials were nice for girl kissing, and the three took advantage of the time to exchange some mouth-to-mouth fun.
Poor Lanya! Here it comes. She looks gorgeous with her golden pubic hair. Zap! A dandy! Look at that mark on her back! Gosh, poor Lanya is going to get twenty zaps. Zowie! Right on that nice bot- tom! Closeup frame too. Long-range mikes are ex- cellent. Catch the whip sounds well, and, wow, can that girl yell! There, that's her twenty. Longo's happy. Ula's happy. Lanya's net so happy. Let's see her backside now.: There. Wow! Real blood trickling from a couple of spots.
"That girl is really super," remarked Stacy.
"Heck of a whipping." Stacy found one of Dania's long breasts and held it.
What next for Lanya? Look, she's tied to stakes in the ground. Longo really has a tool, doesn't he?
Give it to her, Longo! Wow, look at Lanya throw her hips into that guy, tied or not. Getting the hell raped out of her. Lanya orgasms with a squeal.
Longo, the nasty s.o.b., comes in her pussy.
Shame, Longo! Come on, camera, let's really see if she got it. Closeup. Yep, it's running out of her puss. Good camera work. Now what? Ula is kneel- ing over her. Oh, no. Lanya has to eat her out?
Yep! Do a job on her, Lanya. That's the girl! Wowl
Can Marlene Parkins eat a girl? You better believe it! Commercial again.
"You two want to see the rest of this?" gasped
Dania. "I'm on fire. Let's play pussy games."
"Oh, Dania," said Stacy. "There's only a minute or two left. You can wait. Then we'll have a super session."
The last scene was the "come-on" for next week's episode. A mini-preview. Bound to still another post, our heroine watches Ula prepare the branding iron. Her eyes widen as the native girl, aims the hot iron at one of her slender thighs.
Closer… closer… Cut. End of Chapter Six.,
Next week, Marlene Parkins, as Lanya, will be branded on her leg. Really.
The girls moved up off their tummies to get ' down to business. Three wet spots marked their former resting places. identical
"Let's give Stacy a welcome to Woodricking,", said Trish. "Ever have taro girls eat you together,!
Stacy?"
"Not until now," smiled Stacy, squirming deli- ciously and spreading her legs. "Oh, God… that's fantastic! Oooooh…" Her hands waved aim- lessly in the air and finally found their proper places in the bobbing hair of her two lovers' heads.
It was well after one before the bedroom of the domestics became devoid of moans, giggles, mewl- ings and screams.
Chapter Two
Stacy really had done quite well for a new maid.
It wasn't until the fourth day that she earned her first whipping, and both Norena and Mistress were impressed with her efficiency. The iron had really been too hot, and Stacy had tinged the hem of one of Mistress' skirts.
"Well, you are honest about it, Stacy," said
Mistress when she pointed it out to her. "I really wouldn't have noticed. Naturally, if I had, and you
'; You've been taught well."
"Thank you, Mistress. Do you have time to whip me now, or is it inconvenient?"
"Now would be excellent, Stacy. There's just enough time before my husband gets home for our cocktail hour. Go downstairs and select your whip.
Ask Trish and Dania to come up to watch, please. I think the hall table would be nice today."
"Thank you, Mistress."
It was a predicament, in the pantry, to select a whip. At her previous positions she was not re- quired to choose her own instrument of punish- ment. In a way, Stacy thought it rather interest- ing. She removed one after the other from their hooks, holding them and snapping them. It was impossible! A girl could waste an hour deciding.
Finally, in girlish desperation, Stacy closed her eyes, whirled around twice and put out her hand. It was the one with two leather thongs. Good as any, she thought.
"Trish, Dania… sorry to bother you. Whipping time for your new helper."
"Well, it's about time," laughed Dania. "We thought you were never going to make a mistake!
Is it Norena or Mistress?"
"Mistress," said Stacy.
"Oh, lucky you," chirped Trish. "It's a lot more sexy with her. Hurts more, though. You can't wear your panties when Mistress whips you, you know."
The three traipsed upstairs to the hall. Mistress awaited them, her blouse removed to facilitate her arm movements. Her breasts were very lovely.
Trish whispered to Stacy, "See, I told you it was sexier with her! 'She never wears much when she whips us. Look, her nipples are already hard. She must like you, Stacy."
"I've noticed."
Stacy lifted up her skirt and peeled down her panties, stepped out of them, and placed them, folded properly, on the table beside the whip. Miss
Cummins had taught the domestic class never to pull one's pants down around the knees. It was a silly sight. Take them off, and fold them neatly on the table or floor.
Stacy spread herself over the table, her skirt hiked to her waist. She found the proper balance on her stomach, then satisfied, spread her legs nicely, apart. Stacy always felt a tingle when she spread ' her legs for a whipping. A girl just seemingly never gets quite used to exposing her sex voluntarily.
And of course, before a new mistress who was getting to see it for the first time, a pretty mistress at that, well…
Besides, Trish and Dania would see her first whipping too. Another tingle, because they were lovers. Stacy was breathing rather hard, in fact.
She was glad her two lovemates were there. It was the sign of a real girl, of course,, for one who wished that her whipping would be done in private simply hadn't grown up yet. It hurt just as much either way. The whipping had to be received, so why not at least know that your two friends would enjoy it.
If one loved her sister maids like she should, then she hoped her punishment would turn them on.
The whipping would then be well worth it. It was, in fact, honest love between girls. Stacy had gotten her pants wet watching Trish whipped, so fair is fair. Wet your pants, Trish, thought Stacy.
The first lash is always such a surprise. The terrific sound always seems like it is somewhere else. Then a girl feels that awful burning on her bottom, and she knows that the sound was her own flesh.
By the fourth lash, Stacy knew that the whip- ping.was… different. Her previous employers, and even Norena, whipped her basically because it had to be done. A task, so to speak. The lashes fell in repetition, in a steady rhythm, falling where they might. It was a matter of whipping the girl and getting it over with. It was, in essence, a pun- ishment deserved. But Mistress was quite differ- ent. Each lash was an event in itself. Separate.
Distinct. Individual. There was 6o pattern to it, and they did not come close together. When a girl is whipped in a regular cadence, she can gauge the hurt and the strike. But when the pattern is very irregular, she knows not when the next will fall.
Thus each lash becomes a separate punishment, bringing the ultimate hurt.
Mistress was an artist, realized Stacy. Unhur- ried, patient. Maybe ten seconds between two lashes, then a full minute until the next, while the recipient squirmed mentally, almost begging for the next lash to end the suspense. Stacy could feel that Mistress also picked her target as well. Maybe one cheek only, then the other. Then both together.
A girl just simply couldn't prepare for the next lash, and it left her breathless. Stacy had never been whipped by anyone like this. Ten strokes from Mistress were like twenty from anyone else.