It was either fuss and complain, or make the best of it between themselves. The latter was so much nicer.
"What's she look like?" asked Trish. "Afraid I can only see the ceiling for a while."
"Pussy weights, Trish," said Dania. "Pretty good ones too, her lips are stretched pretty damn far. Stacy'll have some pussy after a couple months of this!"
"Good," said Trish, softly. But her tone indi- cated that she was hurting.
The flippancy of the conversation might well belie the fact that the bondage did indeed hurt. It might also tend to give the impression that in some manner, domestics somehow tended to be less immune to discomfort and pain than other girls in various and sundry vocations. It was, of course, not true. It hurt no more or no less than it would any other female. The difference was in the train- ing and resolve of domestics. Punishment was accepted as part of their duties, and repetition of discomfort certainly helped.
Thus a good maid simply did not yowl or corn- plain as quickly as others might. She was expected to at least absorb a moderate acceptance, both of pain and length of time, before she let her discom- fort known in the form of various and sundry sounds and whines. Too, it was always different when two or more domestics suffered together.
Alone in bondage, a maid might well begin her caterwalling soon, but it was rather humiliating to do so when her companions in bondage hadn't uttered a squeak as yet. It was, naturally, a matter of pride not to be the first if at all possible.
After a reasonable length of time, however, one had to be the first. In this case it was Trish. The majority of her weight on her nipples was obvious- ly the most hurtful of the three tribulations in the room. Dania had suffered the breast weights many, many times before, and Stacy's predicament was not unbearable, but Trish's nipples were being stretched quite terribly. At that, it was twenty minutes before the first soft moan escaped her. Her utterance immediately made the situation more enjoyable for Mistress, who had sat smoking and waiting for the pleasures of.vocal response. Girls in punishment became much more arousing when they made some noise. In time, all three girls began a symphony of delightful moans and cries, much to Mistress' enjoyment.
The onIy problem with the three bondage posi- tions of the girls was that their tongues were just not available to do something about her wetness, a fact that she had been aware of when she put them there. In the future, she would have to make at least one girl available.
Mistress was not insensitive to her punishment activities. She knew well that young Trish suffered more than the others for the lengthening of a girl's nipples was not an easy task if it was to be accom- plished. Breast stretching wasn't quite as discom- forting, for they were larger things to punish, but a nipple is such a terribly slender little thing. Mis- tress had always been amazed as to the punish- ment a nipple could take, especially the stretching.
But Trish's age was the time to do it. At seventeen they were still pliable and soft, and could be lengthened to almost any position with the proper hard work. Trish would, of course, suffer consider- able hurt, but in the long run the girl would be quite proud of her sexy new acquisition. In a blouse or tank top, Trish would be sensational.
Trish was squirming quite considerably, and making more than adequate racket, but Mistress realized that it was her first session. Yet, the girl really did deserve a diversion from her hurt, if only briefly. Mistress stroked her clitoris with one fin- ger, knowing that it wouldn't take much. Of course she was correct, knowing girls as she did. A girl in extreme bondage was mentally and emotionally as tight as a bowstring. Under such conditions there was only a fine line between pain and pleasure.
Indeed, in time, the two became one, such as in a whipping with concurrent fondling. It took only ten seconds for Trish to scream out in orgasm and wet her thighs.
"Thank you, Mistress," gasped Trish. It wasn't a courtesy reply. Trish meant it, for if at least for only a brief moment or two, her pleasure had made her agony disappear. For a girl in bondage or pun- ishment, such relief is beautiful, even if given by the very person who dominates her. Gratefulness transcends animosity. But in Trish's case, there would be no animosity at all. Mistress was only doing things which were expected of an employer.
Domestics simply were things to hurt for fun and enjoyment. That was all there was to it. If a girl didn't like that philosophy, she didn't go into domestic service.
"Stacy," said the housekeeper, "would you mind taking care of Dania? Master has his pinochle game tonight and I have to go into town for some liquor and things. Be gone for an hour or so and I just haven't time to whip her right now. She's on the table in the library so she's obviously done something wrong. I simply can't afford to have her lying there until I return. You do know how to whip a girl, don't you?"
"Quite honestly, Norena, I haven't whipped one before, but I don't imagine it's that difficult. I've watched enough. How many lashes does she get?"
"Stacy, you know we don't issue a specific num- ber here at Woodriding. It's entirely up to the one with the whip. I'll rely on your good judgment. I'll check her bottom when I return to see if you did a proper job of it."
"Yes, Norena. I'll take care of the matter. By the way, I need some lipstick. Can you pick some up for me, please?"
Stacy was rather excited about her task. A domestic receives the whip far. more times than she gives it, yet most girls would admit to wishing it were more equalized. Being whipped was part of domestic life. It was accepted, and it most cer- tainly hurt. But whipping another must be terribly enjoyable.
' Stacy finished up the dishes before going into the library where Dania was sprawled on the oaken table.
"Dania, what an odd position!" she laughed from the doorway. "Do you know your panties are showing… all of them?"
"Oh, hi, Stacy. Where's Norena? I'd like to get ! this whipping over. I've only just started dusting in here."
"What did you do, honey?"
"Dusting the books and one fell. Bent the bind- ing."
"Well, guess what? Norena has gone into town and told me to whip you."
"Lucky girl, Stacy, doesn't happen too often at
Woodriding. Well, let's get on with it before I get another for not finishing in here."
"Well, la de da, a left-hander," smiled Dania.
The first stroke was very inefficient.
"Sorry, Dania. First time for me. I'll get the hang of it in a minute or two."
"Raise your arm higher and put more snap into it, darling."
The second was much better, and produced the satisfying retort inherent in a well-delivered effort.
"Much better, Stacy."
Dania said nothing at the third lash, but Stacy saw her hands move to the table edge and grip the wood, which indicated that Dania was indeed start- ing to feel it. It was more exciting than she had anticipated, and Stacy was getting better with each stroke. She decided that she would simply whip Dania. She certainly wasn't experienced enough to administer the delightfully erotic byplay and fondling that Mistress did. That took experi- ence and skill to play a girl'like a musical instru- ment. Domestics simply weren't in Mist,ress' league.
Stacy was pleased with the pattern of streaks she had caused, so perfectly evident under Bania's – sheer panties. Really, more than pleased. To be quite honest, glowingly aroused. A good domestic should develop her sadistic personality as well as her masochistic, for every girl has both. Miss
Cumrnins had touched on that in class. Thus Stacy was very pleased to finally get the opportunity to try out that side of her. She had always wondered if that part of her would work. By the tenth stroke, there was no longer doubt in her mind. It worked.