She stood back to let him grovel before receiving his punishment.
‘And, wanker-love, if you miscount, we’ll start again. Back at 25.’
With that she brought the first stroke down on his cringing bum.
‘25,’ he screamed.
‘Right,’ she laughed.
Another cut.
‘Very good,’ she giggled.
‘24. ’
Then ‘23 - 22 -’
He felt on fire. Each cut fell in a different spot and each was fiercer than its predecessor.
She slid her hand under his belly and on top of the horse.
‘As I thought,’ she said, feeling the wet patch. ‘You’re enjoying it.’
He moaned.
‘23 -’
She did not tell him he had gone wrong.
‘22 -’
The stinging on his bum-cheeks was like red-hot needles.
‘23 -’
‘As you wish,’ she gurgled. She did not point out his mistake.
He managed to get down to eleven, screaming out the number. Then he passed out.
‘Get a bucket of water,’ she ordered the quivering Erica. ‘Fling it over him. While he recovers, pull those knicks right off and get over that other horse. ’
Erica dared not argue. Shivering, sobbing, grovelling and babbling wild promises, he had no option but to obey.
‘Start counting!’
The first cut brought a wild shriek from the frantic maid.
‘25’.
‘Very good, Frenchie. Keep it up. ’
‘24’.
‘23 - 22 - 20’
‘Back to 25, Frenchie. Your first mistake. ’
At last he reached the end of the thrashing.
‘Like some more, Frenchie?’
Petrified, Erica dared not answer. He was afraid she would find he was lying in a puddle of sticky come.
‘Your lover has recovered now,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you’d like him to give you a few, too. Love-strokes. Five, I think. ’
Erica’s shoulders were heaving as he pressed his face into the leather of the vaulting horse. He could smell the sweat of previous offenders who had been placed across it.
His hands gripped the stained leather, his toes were curled into its sides to prevent himself from sliding to the ground. Through his shame and anguish he heard the gym mistress order Cyril to give him five more strokes.
‘And remember,’ she said, ‘if they’re too light, you’ll get them yourself, too. ’
By the time both men had been punished to her satisfaction, they had collapsed on the ground, whining and blubbing like whipped schoolboys.
Watching them gently running their hands over their newly-striped bums, the gym mistress flung the cane down and scoffed.
‘Men! Huh!’
She strode out of the gymnasium.
When they were sure she had gone, they crept sobbing uncontrollably into each other’s arms, mingling their tears, fondling each other, kissing deeply and passing their hands gently over each other’s smarting bum-cheeks.
In their misery, their degradation and loss of will made them understand they loved each other.
Chapter Twenty Two
Cyril’s cock twitched. As Erica lay in his arms, the desire to mount the little man grew. He pressed his groin against Erica, squeezing his lover’s buttock at the same time.
Erica’s eyes fluttered.
‘Do it,’ he murmured.
Cyril turned the eager little man over on his face and gently stroked the bottom that was straining upwards towards him.
‘Do it,’ Erica groaned.
Cyril placed himself astride the little man and slowly lowered his twitching cock until it touched the bum beneath him.
The yearning supplicant groaned beneath him. Running his hand over Erica’s skin, Cyril felt the heat from the thrashing and the nerves jumping spasmodically.
Swiftly, Cyril drew Erica’s bum-cheeks apart, exposing his tenderness. He placed his lips on Erica’s crack and slowly licked his cleft.
A shuddering sigh from his love partner brought his own needs to a peak. Taking his weapon in his hand, he pushed it into the unprotected tenderness beneath him.
Erica gasped as the stiff rod drove into him. His sphincter stiffened. When Cyril thrust deeper into him, he relaxed.
Cyril was now panting in his excitement. He had forgotten his own thrashing in the joy of asserting himself. Even though he was a mere slave to Woman, he thought, he was still master to a submissive French maid.
Cyril’s body rose and fell with each thrust. With each movement he was exhibiting his superiority over the little man who willingly submitted.
Erica wanted love and tenderness, the kind that was generally thought to be a woman’s part, the receiver’s part.
He, Cyril himself, also wanted love and tenderness. He, too, had sperm; lots of it. He remembered how he had wanted Jacko, and he recalled the pleasure he had received when he had been rogered by Cecil.
Lashley was right. “To Give is to Receive. ”
A man was no less a man by Receiving than by Giving.
Furiously he drove his swollen cock into Erica’s willing hole. Each time he thrust, Erica grunted with pleasure.
His spunk poured into Erica in gushes and spurts.
Never had he known such bliss. Never . . .
As he lay exhausted on top, the passion in his cock gradually subsiding, he was startled to hear someone say,
‘Yes, you’re nearly at the end of your course now. ’
Lashley had been watching them.
‘You’ve found each other and you know your places in the scheme. Soon you’ll go out into the world and spread the message of Love.
You must now be kitted out and trained for your place in life. You will both report to Mistress Wanda immediately. ’
Outside Wanda’s door, Cyril and Erica stood hand-in-hand, hesitating to knock in case the burly mistress was in a bad temper. Erica had not forgotten his experience under her riding crop.
Before they were able to pluck up courage, the door opened. Wanda took one look at them and burst into raucous laughter.
‘Come in,’ she said. ‘Another pair of lovers, eh? French maids,’ she decided. ‘Lots of vacancies for those these days. These Frenchies get into the best bedrooms and hear the most reliable news. A feel up; legs wide open. Then it’s across the bed, face down. The hot cock. Spunk. And bingo!
Women want to become Dominatrices. Men want to become slaves. Both are afraid to admit it. So it’s YOUR job to spread the word and get more recruits, of both sexes. Submissive men and dominant women. ’
As she spoke she was rummaging through a collection of clothing hanging in the wardrobe and folded up in the drawers. At last she made her selection.
‘Here, put these on. ’
She held a black and white French maid’s uniform, a pair of black silk stockings and a pair of high-heeled shoes to Cyril.
‘Start practising how to walk in these,’ she said. ‘It’ll take a bit of time to get used to it. ’
She showed him how to get into the skimpy dress, how to put the false tits inside the bra and how to adjust the cami-knickers.
‘Now you’ll go everywhere hand-in-hand. You’ll do everything together. For a start you’ll have to get used to being rogered by rough, untrained men, but you must always stay together, giving useful advice to the customer when needed. Your only relaxation will be when you are off duty. Then you can kiss each other and play water-sports. You must learn how to suck each other’s real tits so they grow large and supple. Lick and squeeze them to make them grow. Try massaging them. Encourage them by using your imagination. FEMINA DOMO HOMO - live up
to it.
Now,’ she said, ‘I’m going to give you your first lesson in “How to excite the Male Animal.”‘
She sat on a chair and pulled Cyril face downwards over her knees. She pulled his legs apart and exposed his tender anus.
‘See that?’ she said to Erica who was watching eagerly. ‘That’s his love-spot. The tenderest part of a man’s body. Tenderer even than his balls. You take your slipper - like this - spank there - like this ... ’
She pulled off her shoe and slapped on Cyril’s unprepared bum.
‘And if you do it often enough, he’ll beg you for more. More. MORE!’
With each repetition of the word, she cracked the shoe across his bum, bringing a howl of pain from him.
‘Ignore his cries and squeals. Actually, he loves it, no matter what he says. If you want proof of this, feel his cock. If it’s wet and hard and throbbing, he’s enjoying it. If it’s dry, just keep on. He’ll grow hard, you’ll see.
Meanwhile, you’re working yourself up, too. That’s when you get the best ideas. At that stage, be prepared for anything. ’
Cyril was sobbing now. The burly mistress was slashing his bum cruelly as she was speaking.
She flung him on the ground.
‘Your turn, now,’ she said to Erica, grabbing him before he was able to speak.
The shoe rose and fell on his naked bottom, drawing howls and promises of good behaviour.
At last the lesson was over. The two French maids lay curled up, trembling and whimpering on the floor.
Wanda pulled back her glistening quim lips.
‘Lick it,’ she ordered.
The two men, their faces burning, crawled between her thighs simultaneously, pushed their mouths into her pubic hair and licked her until she was dry.
Chapter Twenty Three
‘Now,’ said Wanda, ‘you’ve got to be tested on hetero-sex. ’
As she was speaking she was taking her clothes off. Her muscles coiled and uncoiled as she moved. Cyril had never before seen such a magnificently proportioned body, not even in the body-building contests Andrea had allowed him to watch.
When she was completely stripped, Wanda turned slowly, letting each man see her glorious physique. In her presence, they felt humble.
Cyril’s breath was coming in short gasps. His mouth had fallen open. His eyes could not conceal his desire.
‘Take the crop, Cyril,’ she commanded.
He looked at her, hesitating in case he had misheard.
She frowned at him and pointed to the whip lying on the desk. Afraid of annoying her, he hastily picked up the crop and stood waiting for further instructions.
She bent over and gripped her ankles.
‘Thrash me,’ she ordered.
Cyril remained stock still.
‘I . . . I can’t. ’ he whispered.
‘It’s an order, fool,’ she gritted. ‘Thrash me. ’
He looked at Erica in despair. Then, receiving no help from him, he tapped the crop on her bottom gently.
Wanda sneered.
‘Do you want to be tested in hetero or not?’
Cyril licked his lips anxiously.
‘THRASH me, I said. ’
There was no mistaking what she wanted this time. Cyril raised the crop again, this time slashing her bottom hard.
‘Again!’
He slashed.
‘Again!’
Another slash.
‘HARDER! PUNISH me!’
He slashed her as hard as he could, showing her no mercy. But she did not even whimper.
He saw Erica looking at him, an expression of wonder on his face.
Cyril’s cock was rearing up like a cobra. It was waving around wildly.
He gave the Dominatrix the hardest thrashing he could. Stripe after stripe appeared on her pure white bum, leaving red slashes and dark weals as the crop was withdrawn for the next slash.
At last, Wanda straightened up and faced him. Although pain was etched in the lines of her face, she made no protest nor cry.
‘Now!’ she breathed. ‘Now we’re ready. Make love to me. ’
Willingly, Cyril dropped the crop. He pointed his cock in her direction with his hand and ran towards her. She offered no resistance as he pulled her across the desk and fell on top of her.
One hand sought her breast, his fingers fumbling for her nipples. The other hand pushed his pulsating member into her twat, trying to force it through her quim-lips.
Not having success, he released his cock and felt for her clitoris. The hard little spur was standing out like a beacon. He ran his forefinger against it, feeling it quiver.
Encouraged by her acquiescence, he began to talk softly.
‘Come to me, bitch. Come up. ’
She bit his shoulder, making him understand she was feeling as randy as he was.
His finger slid under the clit, rubbing it without stopping. Its prominence amazed him.
Her legs wrapped around his waist, squeezing him tightly.
‘Now fuck me,’ she muttered.
Blindly, he tried to push in, but her vagina muscles rejected him each time he pushed into her. Every thrust was met by a wall of resisting muscle.
‘Fuck me,’ she ordered.
Again his attempts to penetrate her failed.
‘Your last chance,’ she scoffed. ‘Unless you do, you’ll fail as a man. I’ll cut it off if you can’t use it. ’
Desperately he rammed into her. She grunted as she took the full force of his jerk on her tightened hole.
‘Uh! Uh-uh! Uh!’
He HAD to get into her. He scrabbled around the desk top, feeling for the crop. At last he found it.
Reversing it, he was able to jam the handle between her thighs and push it into her slit. A few hard movements in and out and her legs fell apart.
She gasped.
Taking advantage of her surprise, he withdrew the handle and pushed his upright organ into its place.
She gave a little scream as he pushed home. He began to ejaculate as soon as he was in. Four - five - six pulses . . . He lost count as he spent himself inside her warm cranny.
Fiercely he sought her mouth with his own. She responded, making no attempt to avoid him.
Her tongue entered his open mouth and flickered snakelike inside, reaching down to his uvula. At its full extent, it moved up and down, making him want to gag.
To stop himself from falling out, his hand held his cock inside her. As her body relaxed, he took his left hand round her bum and started to finger her anus.
A sigh of contentment came from her as he pushed and pulled his finger in and out of her hole. In turn, he felt her hand go around his buttocks, searching for his own anus.
She deserved it, he thought. He wriggled slightly to show her he was willing and as her long finger found its target, he bore down on it to enable her to open his muscle.
They remained locked like that for some time, gently fingering one another to the accompaniment of joint sighs of comfort.
He had fucked the strongest Dominatrix in the College, and had gained her approval. He had nearly earned his diploma.
When Wanda had regained her poise, she turned to Erica who had been watching the battle with admiration complemented by fear that he would not be as successful.
‘Come on, girlie. Show me what YOU can do. ’
Erica looked uncomfortable as his little cock refused to rise.
‘It’s no good to you, is it, girlie? Shall we cut it off, then?’
Erica was frightened.
‘No, Mistress Wanda. Please. Cock-whip me, instead. ’
She tantalized him for a little while, laying the crop against his little prick and running it under t
he shaft while watching it stiffen but not become entirely hard.
‘No, girlie. Cock-whipping won’t help. Your job is to accept the cock whenever it’s wanted - anybody’s - at all times. You’re gay, that’s all.
There’s a place for you in the world, though. Come on, get into your uniform, girlie. ’
Chapter Twenty Four
The chatter in the crowded hall stopped when Wanda came on the stage. The audience of trainee-Dominatrices settled comfortably in their chairs, their right hands dangling between their legs. In the other they held their favourite implement for obtaining obedience.
From where he was standing, Cyril saw the most popular instrument was the cane. This was followed by the riding crop and then the whip. A few were holding a device which looked like a pair of slim long-nosed pliers.
In reply to his whispered enquiry, the elderly slave standing beside him muttered,
‘Arse-hole stretchers, mate. Widens y’r hole. A bit like the old days when ya needed a pair of gloves stretched. Very effective, too. But, blimey . . . Hurts!’
The man winced.
‘Pay attention,’ said Wanda. ‘This evening we’re going to start with an examination in Gay Love. Voting will take place afterwards. A Pass requires 75% “Ayes”. Less than 75%, the candidate fails and will be sent for Special Revision . . . ‘She paused, while the audience smiled in anticipation. ‘. . . and the candidate will - be - suitably - RE-TRAINED. ’ Again she paused. ‘A - painful - process,’ she added slowly.
This time Cyril saw several of the Dominatrices working their right hands energetically between their legs, joining in a roar of laughter.
‘No slave has ever failed twice,’ she said.
This time the laughter was unrestrained. Every hand flew backwards and forwards vigorously.
Wanda raised her hand for silence.
‘The candidates are Cecil, Maudine’s slave, and my own pupil, Erica. ’
A white-haired man stepped forward, his blushes emphasizing the difference between his mature years and his status as an unqualified slave.
‘This is Cecil,’ said Wanda. ‘Cecil is the man. While Erica, this one . . . ‘
Under the Lash Page 12