"Why don't you feel it, Mistress?" Susan giggled. "It does belong to you, y'know?
along with the rest of me. Feel my pussy too, you'll get a wet hand."
Ilona got a wet hand. But she left it there to cup the swollen lips and their secretions. Her breasts were tumultuous. She was suddenly aware of Susan's laboured breathing. "We must stop this." She said firmly. "Another minute and I'l unstrap your wrists and take you to bed."
"Mmmmm oh, darling, me too. But the whip will cure me. It won't please my bottom but it will make my pussy behave herself? oh, and your hand: make me lick it dry."
In a daze of wonder, Ilona Paisley lifted her wet palm to willing lips and beheld a tongue at least twice the size of her own. It was delightfully pink, muscular and competent. She remembered Griselda. Would her own?? In time??
"Oooooo, they're lovely!" The naked beauty looked down to where Ilona had strewn the instruments of her impending punishment on the floor. "I'd love to swish them; you know, get their feel. But I can't. So why not use a riding crop on my bottom and a whip on my back? It will be good practice. . ?"
"Point out your choice, Susan, and tell my why."
A bare pink toe made its choice. Ilona picked up the items chosen and put the rest away. Her heart was pounding furiously.
"The crop's slender, Mistress. It will hurt like crazy but it won't bruise. The whip's not a long one and it's only a single thong. It will be easier for you to control and be accurate with. A long lash curls and cuts sometimes where you don't want it to."
"Like your breasts?"
"Yes. That short one with the slim lashes: that is the one for my breasts if you ever want to whip them."
"Did your previous Mistress whip your breasts, Susan?"
"Not very often. She was sort of in love with them."
"I'm in love with them too. They're out of this world."
"But if you want to whip them, then you must. I don't like having them whipped, but it's one of the punishments. . ! What I mean, darling, is: after today you mustn't let me influence you."
"Ready to be whipped, sweetheart? Want me to start?"
"Yes, oh yes! Hurry! A couple of hard one's across my bottom may stop this orgasm?"
It was quite unreal, a turgid dream. With the lovely slenderness of the crop Ilona struck and struck again with all her strength. Panting, she stood back and surveyed the picture her own hand had wrought.
Susan's nakedness went wild. Feet kicked, hips twisted and swayed, arms heaved against strapped wrists, fingers clenched and then spread wide. From Susan's mouth came sounds. . Suddenly the lovely torso and its limbs tensed in spasm? again?
and then again. . ! The moans changed tempo. When the sweat bedewed nakedness hung limply from the bar a girlish plea for forgiveness came from shamed lips.
"Oh, Mistress. . ! It happened. I climaxed. Oh, damn, I'm so sorry. .
Punish me."
"But it's not your fault!"
"I'm supposed to control it better, to keep them for you. You have to punish me."
"Oh alright, we can say that's what I'm whipping you for. Did I do alright?"
"Ohhhh, Mistress, I don't even know. I just exploded."
"The marks on your bottom are wickedly gorgeous."
"Run your fingers along them, Ilona, I can probably tell."
"Like this?" Ilona traced the angry flesh with sympathetic fingertips. "I feel a brute. But, gosh, they're lovely!"
"Mmmmm. . !" The platinum slenderness writhed in a plethora of sensation.
"Mmmmm:. . Mistress you did well. Ohhhh. . my poor bottom!" Susan managed a grin. "But it says thank you."
"There was a cane. Would you sooner I used that?"
"No. That's the British thing. You use a cane on my bottom when you make me bend over. It's awful."
"How many strokes should I give you?"
"Six on my bottom for this first time, darling. I don't want to cheese you off with my contortions. It hurts shockingly, y'know."
"Ready?"
"Mmmmm. . Four more. You can space 'em out a bit. I'm not terribly heroic."
Ilona Paisley took a deep breath and swung her arm. Never had she felt so involved in sensation. Sensation possessed her. She stared fixedly at the thin red weal forming on Susan's innocent skin, a wound inflicted there by her own hand. . !
Miss Ilona Paisley of Paisley Publications climaxed in the most eruptive orgasm she had ever known. For a long time she quivered under spasm after spasm as she heard her own keening wail blend with Susan's moans. As expressions of physical anguish they were remarkably similar.
"Oh, Susan, I'm? we're both?!"
"We are, aren't we!" The whipped girl laughed at Ilona's chagrin. Their panting gasps had subsided, their loins quiescent. Ruefully, they gazed upon each other and laughed again.
"I'll let you loose dear."
"Whatever for?" Susan writhed cheerfully against her strapped wrists. "I'm O.K."
"But? but? isn't it sort of all over for both of us, for the time being at least?"
"Poor darling!" Susan giggled. "Do you suffer from what the clinical boys call
'post coital depression'?"
"Well. . " Ilona blushed again.
"A mixture of feeling drained and guilty?"
"Well. . sort of."
"Oh, Mistress, you'l have to do better than that. It's in the mind, y'know." Susan giggled and scratched the inside of a bare leg with an agile toe. "I never feel that way for more than a minute. Right now my fire's starting to bum again. Being in the spot I'm in helps, of course. Why don't you take your clothes off? I think you should."
It was a new idea. Ilona examined it. In the course of doing so depression vanished. Doubtfully, she asked: "But does that go along with my role? I always thought?"
"Darling, we're not acting, we don't have roles. You're thinking of jack boots and black leather." Susan was vehement. "But if you want to be classic I believe female slave owners used to disrobe when whipping naughty maids. The idea was they got a less restricted swing with the whip. And there was always the afterwards."
"Afterwards?"
"The poor whipped girl had to service her, silly. You should make me do the same for you. It's a real punishment, darling, because the whipped girl wants it in the worst way, but all she gets to do is give it to someone else."
"You really think we should continue? You've still got three to come with this awful crop."
"Add one. Make it four. I called you silly. Don't ever let me get away with anything like that. I told you: I'm bossy."
"You're wonderful, Susan."
"Yes, I am. Now take your clothes off."
Knowing herself under a spell, Ilona obeyed. Impelled by erotic mischief, she did her strip before the interested eyes of the girl strapped to the bar. With Susan she felt no shyness, only a feminine unity. Without realizing it, she shed years along with her clothes.
"Oh, darling. . !" The youngster's voice was hushed. "Why do you ever wear clothes!"
"You like?" Ilona stretched and posed. "I've never done anything to hurt my figure.
Tell me it's good."
"I'll tell you how good it is. It makes me wish I was free. I'd have a hand between your legs so fast?"
"I'll undo those straps. Oh, Susan. . !"
"No!" The girl undergoing punishment seemed suddenly the elder. "Mistress, you have to control such impulses. I'm your's, you can use me anytime. Right now I'm being punished." Slyly, Susan insinuated: "I thought you were feeling all washed out?"
"Weeee. . Oh, damn!" Ilona ineffectually stamped a bare foot. "This is so new.
You were right about the clothes: I'm horny."
"You're a really terrible Mistress." Susan pouted. "For a successful tycoon, you've got the most un-orderly mind. It would serve you right if I stopped prompting and just foxed you around to please myself."
Ilona pursed her lips. "O.K. Fox me now."
"I can't." Susan giggled. "You called my bluff. You'd best use that crop on my bottom some more. I'm on number four out of seven."