Lesbian adventures 19

by Edward Adams

  The mistress walked back over to where her slave wriggled vainly and began to tell her what was to happen.

  “Slave. This is a flogger.” The mistress held the flogger down so that the slave could see it. “I am going to whip that little ass of yours with it. Pain will teach you to obey orders. You will get twenty flogs on each ass cheek. Enjoy it my little slut.”

  With that she stood back and the first whip landed on the slave’s unprotected ass. The slave’s muscles tightened and her neck arched with the pain of the first searing slash. She screamed behind her gag but could make no sound. The mistress left no time for her to recover, landing another, harder lash down on her other ass cheek. The mistress continued, counting each flog aloud, never leaving enough time for the slave to recover. The slave struggled against her bondage, her muscles rippling but to no use and she soon collapsed into the bonds, her breaths coming in short gasps while tears flowed from her eyes, but then the mistress stopped. Her breathing continued, heavy. Her ass felt as if it was on fire. She could feel the mark that each lash had made on her bare ass as if she had been branded. But still the mistress did not strike and the slave realised that it was over. The mistress had counted her forty strokes.

  The mistress left her there for a while and walked back over to the cupboard and replaced the flogger. She stood there for a while as if browsing and finally reached out and took a black riding crop. She was not yet done with her slave. She walked firmly back towards her slave admiring the colour of her ass and wondering if she could take any more pain yet. The slave still lay over the cross bar of the frame her muscles lax. The mistress walked round to her front and whispered to her, “It’s not over yet. I haven't paid those tits of yours any attention.”

  With that she unlocked the slave’s wrists from her ankles and pulling her upright locked them behind her back. She then picked up a leather strap off a table and used it to buckle the slave’s elbows tightly together. The slave moaned as her breasts were pushed forward but her brain was not yet registering what was happening. The mistress then clicked two catches and removed the cross bar from the frame. Propping it against a wall, she walked over to another cupboard behind her and removed a number of leather straps, which looked rather like the bondage bra the slave had been wearing earlier. These she attached to the two vertical and to the top bar of the frame so that two circles of leather were suspended just in front of the slave’s breasts. The mistress loosened the first one and pulled the slave’s breast into it before tightening it up with a buckle. She then did the same with the other buckle. The slave stood tied to her frame, breasts proudly thrust forward forming globes beyond the tight constriction of the leather straps, her nipples firmly erect.

  The mistress then brought out her crop and flexed it in front of her slave. “Slave you will now be spanked with this crop. Your tits need to learn, like your ass has done, the cost of disobeying me.”

  The slave shook her head desperately but there was no escape. She could feel her breasts throbbing and swelling in their bondage and she tried to move. There was almost no movement in her chest as the supporting straps of her breast bondage were pulled very tight and there was none in her arms or legs. She stood looking at the crop with horror and thinking of what it would do to her sensitive swollen breasts. Suddenly, without warning the mistress brought the crop sharply down on the slave’s breast, filling it with fire. The slave screamed but the gag filling her mouth muffled it to a silent groaning. As the burning pain in her breast began to subside the next stroke fell, this time on the other breast.

  “Two,” the mistress counted.

  The pain of the whipping soon brought the slave back to reality and she struggled in her restraints trying to avoid the blazing pain of the crop. But even slight movements caused tugging on her bound breasts and they ached sharply. Slowly the fight was spanked out of her and she began to sag in her bonds. Her breasts took the weight and she was forced to pull herself upright again. Her head spun and darkness closed in as she began to lose consciousness. But it did not quite depart. The pain had stopped, her breasts, now bright red, smouldered. The mist cleared from the slave’s eyes and she looked up, but at that moment the mistress brought down the last two strokes in quick succession. One on each of the slave’s swollen nipples. The pain rocketed through the slave’s body and her whole body stiffened and she swayed ready to pass out, but she remained standing and the mistress smiled.

  “Your pain is nearly over now,” she said, “there is just one more area which needs a lesson.”

  The mistress placed the crop down on a table and stepping forward unbuckled the leather straps from around the slave’s breasts. They were swollen to much larger than their normal size and were bright red, here and there welts rose up off the skin. The mistress gently rubbed a cream into them enjoying their size. She then removed the leather straps from the frame and the slave was left standing, her legs still spread wide by the ankle restraints.

  The mistress walked slowly round behind her slave letting the psychological impact of the fact that her punishment was not over sink in. She unbuckled the leather strap, which held the slave’s elbows, and then unlocked the slave’s wrists. The slave was too weak to resist when the mistress pulled her arms up and locked her wrist restraints to two rings close together in the top bar of the frame. She then unlocked the slave’s ankle restraints and the slave was able to stand with her feet together, which she moved to do, slowly and painfully. The mistress walked round to the front of the frame and reaching up attached two chains to rings in the ceiling about three feet from the top bar of the frame. The ends of the chains hung at the same height as the slave’s wrist restraints though much father apart. The mistress then bent down and firmly grabbed the slave’s ankle. She then stood, pulling the ankle up off the ground so that the slave was left standing on one leg. The mistress then locked the ankle’s restraint to the end of the first chain. She repeated the operation with the other leg leaving the slave suspended her legs held wide apart showing off her shaven pussy.

  “Now my pet we will finish your pain.”

  The mistress took up the crop again and began to pat its hard leather tip on her slave’s wide open pussy. She used it to circle her wet pussy hole and even stroked its corner against her clit. The slave moaned and arched her back slightly. Without warning the mistress drew the crop back and brought it down as hard as she could on the slave’s pussy. Fire exploded in the slave’s brain eradicating all thought. The darkness took her.

  The mistress slowly unlocked her slave’s restraints and lowered her to the floor. She took a thick leather blindfold from a drawer and buckled it tightly over the slave’s eyes. She was not to see anything when she finally woke up. The mistress then gently spread the girl’s legs and pushed a small vibrator into her sopping pussy. She set it to a slow pulse, she wanted her slave horny but not to cum. She would not be allowed to cum until her punishment was over. She then pulled a pair of latex panties onto the slave to stop the vibrator sliding out of her pussy. Then she attached chains to each of her ankles and pulling them back clipped them to her wrists holding her in a loose hog tie.

  The slave was then half dragged, half carried to her cage in the corner of the dungeon and once inside the door locked. The mistress walked over to the wall and clicked a switch. A rumbling sound came from above and the cage was lifted slowly off the ground by a chain attached to one of the top bars. The mistress smiled, everything was panning out nicely and it would not be too difficult at all to cook up some interesting surprises for the next half of her slave’s punishment.

  dad i have a question

  “Dad?” my daughter asked, as she handed my car keys back to me.

  “What, sweetie?”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “It's kind of embarrassing,” she said.

  “Jamie, you know you can ask me anything. What do you want to know?”

  “I asked my friends Melody and Kiersten, and
they just laughed at me. I don't know who else to ask,” she replied.

  “Then ask me. If I know the answer, I'll tell you. If I don't, we'll do some research to find out,” I said.

  “Promise you won't laugh at me?”

  “Why would I laugh? If you don't know something, one of the best ways to find out is to ask. What's your question?”

  She took a big breath, as though she were gathering her courage. “Well, why do I get a tingly feeling sometimes in my,... my,... um,... my vagina? Why does it sometimes get wet and slippery?”

  Oh shit. Now what? This is where my ex would have been useful. I've tried to help my daughter understand as much about her body as I can. I was okay with the basic birds-and-bees talk. Years ago, I had explained to her about menstruation and the physical changes her body was going through as she changed from a girl to a woman. I thought I had pretty much covered everything. She was fully prepared when she got her first period. She knew how babies are made, how a male's sperm gets to a female's egg, how a baby grows in the uterus, and how it is born. I had taken her shopping for bras and panties, coached her on how to keep herself clean and how to deal with her cycle, and all the rest.

  It had always been just my little girl and me, since her bitch of a mother walked out of our lives when Jamie was still an infant. That's why my daughter and I are so close. I was the one who fed her, changed her diapers, bathed her, rocked her to sleep, helped her learn to ride a bike, treated her sc****s and bruises, and taught her how to drive a stick shift. We've always enjoyed our time together, and she's the kind of k** who's eager to learn new things.

  Being a single parent has always been hard, and friends had told me that dealing with a teenage girl would be a chore. Jamie's a good k**. She seems to have a lot of friends, and she's been allowed to go on dates for a whike, but for some reason, she doesn't seem to get asked much. As a result, I assumed she was pretty innocent sexually. I realized we had discussed nothing about the signals her body would give her about her sexual desires. Now she's asking me why her pussy gets wet and tingly. Oh, this could get awkward!

  “When does this happen to you, honey?” I asked.

  “I don't know. I guess when I see a cute guy, or when I watch people kissing and stuff on TV. It was pretty bad last week at the pool when Brian and Paul were hanging out with me. My vagina tingled so much I didn't know what to do. I sorta wanted to rub it, but I kinda figured I shouldn't do that in front of people.”

  “That was good thinking, honey. It's just like when you get a wedgie. You find some private place to fix your underwear so you don't have that feeling.”

  “Is it wrong to want to rub myself?” Jamie asked.

  “No, not at all. But it's something you should do in private,” I replied.

  “But why does it get all wet and slippery?” she asked.

  “Well, honey, your vagina produces a kind of moisture that acts as a lubricant.”

  “You mean like oil or grease?”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “Why?”

  Damn. I guess I should have known this day would come. What do I say?

  “The tissues inside your vagina are very delicate. They would get chafed if you didn't have that lubricant.”

  “Oh,” Jamie said.

  I prayed the conversation would be over when she went silent. My prayer was not answered.

  “What would chafe them? Doesn't chafing happen when something rubs against you?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “So what would rub the inside of my vagina? Oh, wait, I know. A penis.”

  “Yes, a penis, or anything else that might go in there.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew that comment would bring more questions.

  “What else can go in there, Dad?”

  “Um, well,.... Honey, did you ever hear the word 'masturbation'?”

  “Isn't that what a guy does when he plays with his penis?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why do they do that?”

  “Because it feels good.”

  “Do you do it?” she asked.

  I knew having such an honest relationship with my daughter would backfire sooner or later. “Yes, honey, I do sometimes.”

  “How do you play with play it?”

  “I sort of stroke it and rub it with my hand.”

  “Does it feel good?” she asked.

  “Well, yeah. Otherwise I wouldn't do it.”

  “Do you get an erection? I've seen drawings of that in class.”

  “Um, yes,... yes I do.”

  “Do you ejaculate?” my daughter asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Will you show me how you do it?”

  “Jamie! Honey! No, I can't do that!” I nearly shouted.

  “Why not?”

  “Because it's a very private thing!”

  “Going to the bathroom is private, and we've done that in front of each other.”

  “That's different. Sometimes you're in the tub and I need to use the toilet, or I'm shaving and you need to pee. We only have one bathroom, and we're family, so we just do it.”

  “Yes, and so you've seen my vagina and I've seen your penis . So why won't you show me how you play with it?”

  “Because it's sexual, and that would be bad.”

  “But Dad, you told me sex was a beautiful thing.”

  “Yes, but it's for people who love each other.”

  “WE love each other. I love you, and you love me, so that should make it beautiful, right?”

  “Sex is wrong when it involves family, honey. That's called i****t, and it's wrong and it's against the law.”

  “You're not making any sense. When you and Mom got married, that made you into a family, didn't it? You had sex with Mom. That's how I got here. That's how all k**s get here. Having k**s isn't i*****l.”

  “No honey, it isn't. It's a wonderful thing. But having babies and having sex is for adults, for men and women.”

  “You tell me I'm a young woman.”

  “You are, honey, but you're also my daughter. Fathers can't do sexual things with their daughters. Now let's not talk about this any more.”

  She sat there with a pout on her face, but said nothing. The silence was uncomfortable, but I must have projected enough of my own guilt onto her that she dropped the subject. Her good-night kiss to me was a little cooler than normal. This was the first time I felt I had let my daughter down.

  The next morning, Jamie came to breakfast still wearing my old t-shirt that she likes to sleep in. I guess she's grown a lot since she first appropriated it. It used to hang flat on her body and to come down to just above her knees. It wasn't that way now.

  “Good morning, honey,” I said cheerfully.

  “Morning,” she mumbled as she began to munch on a piece of toast.

  Normally, Jamie was full of sunshine and energy in the mornings, talking like mad. Today, she was quiet and withdrawn.

  “Are you okay this morning, honey?” I asked. “You're awfully quiet.”

  She didn't answer for a moment. Then she put her toast down and said, “Girls do it too, right?”

  “Do what?” I asked.

  “Masturbate.”

  Oh, fuck, here we go again. “Yes, they do, honey.”

  “Why?”

  “To make themselves feel good.”

  “What do they do?

  “Um, well, they rub themselves, you know, down there.”

  “How?”

  I could feel myself sweating a little. This was something I simply never considered having to talk about with my daughter. It didn't help that I could see the shape of her nipples under that well-worn old shirt. “Well, they use their fingers and rub around the vaginal opening,” I answered.