I kept Marion waiting a long, languishing moment with my whip upraised and my left hand gripping the back of her slim neck. I must say that she showed now more bravery than could have been expected after her emotional breakdown and her confessional. I daresay if I had been thoroughly pacific with my intentions, I could have shown a nobility of character by forgiving her and releasing her and then cozening her into making love with me. But I think I correctly estimated that this would be a show of weakness on my part in turn and that she might try to regain her lost terrain and be haughtier than ever with me. No, I must harden my heart-just as my cock was hardened!-and proceed to a thorough subjugation of my beautiful sister-in-law to be.
At last I brought the whip down rather smartly across the top of her hips. It made a soft smacking sound, but it left no mark, although Marion sucked in her breath and nervously jerked, perhaps more from the torturing suspense than from the first stripe itself. “That is one,” I counted aloud. She bent her head, closed her eyes, while I stared over her shoulder at the mirror, feasting my vision to the utmost. You cannot have any idea how really mouthwateringly tasty Alice’s sister was, standing there stark naked except for her black stockings and the flouncy rosette garters, her legs slightly spread apart, her arms drawn up so high that her pectoral muscles were in fine bold relief, and the uptilting insolent pears of her bubbies surged out with a really dazzling elegance as if she would not be ashamed to enter them in a contest of love goddesses-including glorious Venus herself! Indeed, she would not have come off too badly in such a contest, in my private opinion.
I dealt the second cut a little lower down, just over the tops of her prominent firm bottom ovals, and I enjoyed the sight of the lash clinging across those tensing hemispheres and the tip flicking round towards her tender groin. Marion gasped a little more loudly this time, nervously tried to shift from foot to foot, and dragged on her wrists. From the way her sides were trembling, and I could see the lovely ribcage plainly outlined against her taut warm olive skin, I knew that she must really be fatigued from the long duration of her atonement. But as this would join in the overall stress upon her nerves and her psyche to bring me the most delicious nuances of voluptuous gratification, I again hardened my heart and directed the third cut about an inch below the place where the second lash had kissed.
Her hips gave an involuntary swerve to this side, and to that; her head tilted back a little and her eyes opened. Intently following the reflection of her features-as well as her body to be sure!-in the huge mirror in front of her, I perceived that they were full of tears and that her nostrils were beginning again to dilate rather rapidly.
I did not keep her waiting for the fourth cut, but applied it almost instantly thereafter, yet exactly over the last place attacked. A reiterative stroke on bare flesh which has already been sensitized produces much more than a double effect of irksome heat, which radiates throughout the entire feminine nervous system and thus aggrandizes the suffering-and also the voluptuous titillations which a whipping always produces in a female of any sensitivity whatsoever, as any connoisseur of flagellation can tell you from experience.
The fifth lash took a little longer, and Marion nervously glanced back for a second, then again bowed her head and stiffened herself. It cut directly across the plumpest curves of both naked hindquarters, producing a faint sob of “Aahh!” and a convulsive squirming which I found maddeningly stimulating to my roused and now again savagely excited cock.
I made her wait almost a minute for the sixth lash, which wrapped the soft-substanced whip around the base of that mouthwateringly contoured backside of hers and possibly may have darted the tip of the lash in toward her furry gap, for she lunged to the left, sticking her bottom practically back at my swollen prick, while with a plaintive groan she entreated, “Ohh, please, please, s-sir, it hurts, it hurts!”
“To be sure it does, Marion, and it is meant to. What will it be, I wonder, when you receive your final eight strokes across the fronts of your thighs? You may ponder on that question while I complete the first portion of your whipping,” I said. I now applied the two final cuts of that first sentence of eight lashes for the slap, placing them straight across, once more, the jounciest region of the summits of her naked olive-satiny behind. She groaned and sobbed a little, twisted and jerked, but in the main I had to admit that she had borne her eight strokes with relatively good grace, far better than a naughty teen-ager would have done if bent over a desk to receive chastisement for poor lessons or inattentiveness or rudeness to her mistress.
But now I had an ingenious interlude to accord her which I knew would further surprise her tender flesh, unused as it certainly must have been during her three years of marriage to such imaginative treatments. Placing the whip on a tabouret to my right and behind her, I now took up the globe-box, opened and took out the longest, softest feather of the dozen, then closed the box and put it down beside the ship. During this pause, Marion again lifted her head and opened her eyes and stared into the mirror, doubtless to determine what I next intended. Her eyes widened a bit when she saw the feather in my hand, and then she blushed vividly and again closed her eyes and bowed her head, while a long tremor passed through that bewitching supple body of hers, tethered by the silken ropes at her ankles and by the rope-pulleys at her updrawn wrists.
I squatted, and after a moment’s study of her lovely quivering bare bottom and the beautiful merger of those long supple thighs sheathed so provocatively in the tightly moulding black silk hose, I extended the feather in my right hand and began to graze her sleek calves, then her kneehollows, and then on upwards along her thighs till I had reached the tops of the fine hose and was titillating the bare olive skin itself. Marion fidgeted throughout this unexpected treatment and glanced back once or twice at me, and I also noticed that her thighs made involuntary jerks as if to clench together which, of course, the ropes at her ankles utterly prevented. I stroked her naked thighs a long moment, next artfully passed the side of the feather over the swelling curve at the base of her left buttock, then moved it to the other cheek at the same place, lulling her by this stroking and caressing but at the same time making her all too conscious of her nakedness before me and of all that she exposed so vulnerably to my slightest whim. Suddenly I passed the tip of the feather into the shadowy groove which separated her tensing naked bottomcheeks, and with the very tip of the plume tickled the secretive niche of her arse-hole. I made no attempt to open the cheeks of her behind to locate it definitely, but I knew that I had attained it from the sudden horrified little squeal of “Aahhh, oh, good Lord, what are you doing to me now, s-s-sir?” and her immediate violent contraction of all her bottom muscles to defend that most sensitive and most shameful of orifices.
Quite satisfied with her reaction, I resumed my little game, grazing the feather all over the quivering cheeks of her bare bottom, especially where the springy lash had inflicted its warm kisses on her choice firm satiny olive-tinted flesh. Her head tilted back again, and her breasts began to rise and fall with an erratic cadence, while long rippling tremors surged up and down her shapely long thighs. Yes, in many ways, Marion surpassed dear Alice in the complexity and deeply rooted latency of her feminine and sexual nature! What a treasure I had found in this black-haired beauty who had come to score me off, but who was now herself in the process of being scored!
I covered her entire bottom with those feathery caresses, ending at the chinkbone with its pronounced dimple, and Marion squirmed and wriggled salaciously at this last phase of the tickling, finally gasping, “Oh, for God’s sake, s-s-sir, finish my punishment, I can’t stand much more of this!”
“I am afraid you will just have to stand it, Marion, for as long as it pleases me. And I would not advise you to be insubordinate or surly at this stage, considering how nicely you are fixed for whipping, as I can readily add to your sentence.”
With this, I moved round to face her, and she gasped aloud: “Ohh!” and her eyes were huge and glazed with her tears, for she beheld the furious erection of my prick, jiggling audaciously between my sinewy thighs as I stood with the feather in my right hand and my left hand moving out to cup one of her beautiful bubbies and to squeeze and lovingly fondle it As I did this, I began to tickle the nipple of the other globe, and Marion sucked in her breath and twisted her face away, groaning, “Oh don’t make sport of me, you shame me so, it is disgraceful to take such advantage of a helpless woman!”
“If your husband had taken such advantage of you, I do not believe that you would be here this afternoon,” I retorted as I continued to titillate the rosy bud of her nipple till I could see it quiver and tingle and stiffen with tumescence. Her face was absolutely flaming again and her eyes were closed, but her lashes could not help a restless nervous fluttering, nor could she control the rapid flaring and shrinking of her delicate nostrils. I playfully paraded the feather down her belly and spent a moment or two tickling the sweet niche in that deliciously smooth basin which would surely cushion a man mounted astride her in the very joust of love. The time had not yet come to tickle her cunt, but I certainly intended to do this without too much further delay. For it was time for the second part of her flogging.
With Alice, my readers may recall, I had induced the slightest dosage of cantharides into a glass of wine which I had given her before I had taken the maidenhead of her bottom. Now this was because she was such a pure virgin intact; but as Marion was not, I determined to guide her along the path of lust myself, relying not only on my own ability and vigor, but also on her own unleashed feminine powers-for unleashed they would surely be by the time I had finished with what I had in store for her.
I went behind her again, replaced the feather in the globe-box and took up the whip again. This time, without any warning, I drew back my arm and dealt her a cut right across the fleshiest part of her backside, but in a diagonal way, from right to left and giving the whip the slightest possible flick of my wrist as I concluded the stroke. This sent the tip whisking round the top of her hip and on towards the tender sloping basin of the groin and the lower abdomen, and she uttered a wild cry: “Aaarrr! Oh, don’t, it hurts, oh how it hurts me! Oh do let me off now, sir, please do!”
“Nonsense,” I heartily rejoined, “You shall have seven more cuts just like that one on your naked bottom Marion, and then I am going to make you count off the final eight strokes across the front of your bare thighs. You are not even marked from your punishment thus far, so you need not try to deafen my ears with your entreaties for mercy. You are paying off your debt, which you have already agreed is grievous. Prepare yourself!”
With this, and with a backhanded stroke from left to right, I cut across her bottom to form a kind of X. Only the faintest pink mark showed on the warm olive skin of her backside, but the burning sting, and especially where the lash crisscrossed its predecessor, caused her to lunge forward with a piercing shriek and to turn her face back over her right shoulder to appeal to me with hugely dilated, tear-filled eyes: “Ahhh! Oh my Lord, I can’t bear such pain, oh, how it hurts my poor flesh! Do have mercy, I repent the things I did to you, sir!”
“For a woman of your maturity and marital experience, Marion, you disappoint me with your lack of originality,” I taunted as I slowly raised the whip again to let her see what awaited her. “Why, a minx of twelve, up to be thrashed by the headmistress in a boarding school would have more ingenuity in trying to beg herself off. The most wicked sinner is always ready to repent when the lash begins to fall. No, Marion, it is only after you’ve had your punishment that I shall treat with you as to your future behavior towards me.”
With this, I gave her the third cut, but this a horizontal slash from right to left just over the upper summits of her huddling, jerking, squirming bare bottomcheeks. Now I was using the full force of my arm, but I knew that the substance of this ingeniously fabricated whip would not break the skin and would hardly mark it, for all my vigor. But it was thrilling in the extreme to watch the difference between the first part of Marion’s whipping and this second portion, for now she cried out at every cut in genuine anguish; and the way her body plunged and jerked and twisted, her hips jiggling and contracting and weaving, made me almost afraid that my cock would explode with admiration long before it had a chance to pay that ardent tribute deep within her cunt or arse-hole, depending where my burning needs might lead me.
I paused a little while to let her regain her strength as well as her voice; and as she twisted and squirmed, sobbing and tearful, I patted her tensing bottom with the whip and told her to get ready for the final strokes upon its sensitive terrain.
Next I gave her a very severe cut which made the whip cling across the base of both nether globes while the tip darted round to sting her tender inner thigh perilously near her furry cunt, as I could well see in the mirror ahead of her. This lash produced the most piercing cry yet of the whipping, and a sudden furious tugging at her bound wrists as well as a hastily sobbed-out appeal for pardon. But I was deaf to all this. Now my eyes alone savored the joys she was providing me so unwillingly.
I made her wait for the last few strokes, but she had no reason to complain of their vigor when they finally attacked her tender oval-cheeked bare bottom. Each time the little whip visited the plump jouncy summits of her seat, Marion yelled out wildly and jutted herself forward in a kind of semi-arc like a bow, thus projecting out the furry nook of her cunt to the mirror in the most shameless way imaginable.
Seeing that she was rapidly losing the aplomb and courage which she had so admirably sustained through the first portion of her punishment, I decided to speed my own tempo in the hope that it would produce an even more complete annihilation of her will. I therefore moved round to face her, whip in hand, and I told her cruelly, “Now you are going to count aloud eight cuts across the tops of your bare thighs, enunciating each in a clear, loud voice so that there will be no mistake. For each cut that you do not count, you shall have an extra. Do you follow me?”
And before she could stifle her sobs and groans and make any kind of affirmation, I drew back my right hand and slashed the little whip against the top of her left thigh, so that the lash wrapped round the lovely lithe column just below the groin.
“Arrrhhh! Ohh, no more, oh please stop, oh I cant stand it there, I can’t, sir, do forgive me and let me off now!” Marion wailed as she lunged and twisted from side to side, dragging on her bonds above her head.
I waited a moment, and then I applied another cut over the very same place, wrapping the thong entirely around the lovely column, which jerked madly under the stinging bite. A prolonged scream of anguish tore from Marion’s gaping mouth as she twisted and jerked, but pitilessly I moved over to my left and sent the whip around the top of her right thigh this time as viciously.
“Eeeeowwl! Oh my Lord, oh you are killing me-three, oh-three, oh end it, I cannot bear such suffering!”
“But it can hardly be three when you have not yet counted one, Marion,” I told her. “It will go on being one until I hear you say so.” And with this I applied a new slash which coiled the wicked little whip like a serpent hungrily clinging round her left thigh.
“Aiiii!! Ohh, don’t, I’ll do whatever you want, I swear I will, sir, only for God’s sake don’t hit me on my legs again, please don’t!”
I lowered the whip, trembling with the keenest land of anticipation, and the veins along the shaft of my bulging prick were dark and gnarled with triumph lust. At last I had compelled haughty, arrogant Marion to offer herself of her own free will to escape from merited punishment. But I was not yet sure of what I wished of her, so I decided to test her compliance. “You mean that if I suspend the remaining lashes, Marion, you will agree without struggle or resistance, insult or injury, to do exactly as I order?” I demanded.
And, just to make certain that she understood my own obduracy in the matter, I doubled the little whip in my hand and shoved it right up against the mossy gape of her furry cunt, staring sternly into her tear-blurred eyes.
She shuddered violently, glancing down, then shrinking and squirming as she tried to remove that most vulnerable part of her delicious anatomy from the menace of the lash, and she huskily and sobbingly panted, “Oh, my God, yes, I can’t stand this anymore, I really can’t! Do what you want with me, and let me go!”
And thus, dear reader, my long-desired goal, that of the conquest of Alice’s sister, was very nearly within sight!