At University one young man from the Midlands area was a little more flush with money than the rest of us, even renting his own house near the campus where occasionally some of us were invited to go and socialize. He had become part of my social group, and one day informed me that he had managed to purchase a Bullwhip and wanted to know if I would be willing for him to try it out on me. To be honest, I had no real idea what a Bullwhip was back then and just agreed as I thought it would be a bit of extra fun.
The day I turned up at his house, I decided to wear what I now consider to be a hideous lime green knee-length dress. I chose this because the zip was at the back running from the collar to my buttocks. I had foolishly presumed that this would be zipped down and the dress lowered off my arms to expose my back but be left covering my bum. It seemed very suitable.
As always we had a coffee and enjoyed a chat while a few other friends joined us for the proceedings. Eventually, I accompanied my friend up into the spare room of his house, which was devoid of any furniture. He had placed large eyelet hooks in four places in the wall two almost at ceiling height and about five feet apart and two just above the skirting board directly below the two higher ones.
Once I had been shown these to which it was apparent I was going to be tied I was shown the whip. At first, I thought it was a curled up snake as it was brought in lying upon my friend’s hand. Then I noticed it was a series of long leather thongs woven together to form a thick handle end and a narrow whip end. I then watched, I confess in some trepidation as the power of the whip was demonstrated on the wall. I shivered and for the first time, wondered if I was doing the right thing in allowing it to be used against my skin.
Lovely soft cotton ropes were produced, and I was asked if I was ready to get undressed. I was a little surprised at this as I was, as explained, just expecting my dress to be undone and lowered to my waist. I was old however, that it would be much more fun all around if I was totally naked. By now, there were about fifteen young men and a couple of girlfriends who had joined in the room. They all wanted to see the exhibition of my first whipping.
I agreed to being whipped naked. My friend gave me the option of removing my clothes in the privacy of the bathroom or doing so in front of the gathered crowd. I suggested that if I was to be naked, those watching should prepare me in such a way. I had discovered the previous year that one of the best ways of getting my juices to flow was to have a guy remove my clothes for me. I had found that when my underwear was taken off, it aroused greatly whatever desire was lurking inside me at the time. There were, surprisingly, no shortage of volunteers to perform this task. Once I was naked, the ropes were bound, with care, round my wrists and ankles. I was then led across to the far wall where the hooks were strategically placed.
Here I was made to face the wall while my arms were pulled up and out above my head to be secured to the hooks by two guys standing on chairs. I had to spread my legs so that the ropes around my ankles could also be made fast in the lower hooks. I was now in a spread eagle position facing the wall and ready for my first whipping session.
The owner of this new implement of torture told me that he was going to whip me five times across my back as he felt that any more would be too painful for me to bear. I remember distinctly thinking that five was not many. I could hear the onlookers shuffling back out of the way as my Dom of the day began getting ready.
I tensed, pulling on the ropes, in expectation of what lay ahead. Then I heard a whoosh as the whip flew through the air and struck the wall to my right with a crack. I just had time to wonder why he had hit the wall and not my prone and exposed back when a sudden indescribable pain tore through my quivering body, and I screamed out in both shock and surprise.
My head must have jerked back violently as I strained hard upon the ropes holding me in position. The next I knew was that my head hit the wall pretty hard, not hard enough to knock me out but enough to see stars! I now had an incredibly painful back and a very sore head with a bump appearing pretty rapidly upon my forehead.
The guys saw my predicament and without waiting undid the ropes securing me and helped me to sit down even kindly covering me with a sheet. One ran out of the house to get some paracetamol, knowing that I would have a headache from the crack I had given myself. Tony, my friend with the whip, was all contrary and upset at what had happened as I guess were we all. I could feel the egg growing bigger on my head by the minute.
The young man who had run for the tablets, thankfully, had the presence of mind to obtain some cream for bumps and bruises. This was applied as soon as he returned.
One of the lads berated Tony about the positioning of the hooks telling him it was obvious what was likely to happen. Others pointed out that he had not said anything before I had banged my head! Another added that Tony should have watched the whipping scene from ‘The Story of O.’ He pointed out that ‘O’ was not against a wall but in the centre of the room to allow her to swing.
The whole thing was getting a bit out of hand. There were accusations and recriminations. I was feeling a little too ‘out of it’ to offer any sensible counsel on the matter. Thankfully however, things calmed down, and I remember three or four lads talking to Tony about the best positions to place the hooks in to avoid any further accidents.
It was the following Saturday that we attempted the event once again. When I entered the room, which was about 20 feet square and situated in an old Victorian terrace house, I noticed that the hooks were in the ceiling had been moved. They were now about four feet off the wall. The lower ones had been placed horizontally in line but at the bottom of the side walls.
This time I knew what to expect and so harboured no reservations as the previous week as to retaining any resemblance of modesty. I knew I would be totally naked. I also knew, from the one stroke of the whip that I had received the week before, that this would not just be a light whipping that would be uncomfortable for a few minutes as my friends in Scotland had done to me. I knew it would be quite painful and that I needed to grit my teeth and be mentally prepared for what I had agreed to participate in.
I was stripped naked. Once again, I enjoyed the thrill as the men removed my underwear. This left me exposed to the gaze of all in the room. I was asked to do a little twirl so all could see me front and back.
The soft cotton ropes were bound to my wrists and ankles. I was manoeuvred into position and tied to the hooks securing me in a spread-eagle position.
This time I was asked if I wished to wear a blindfold, an offer I felt would be a good idea to take. I choose to accept this was because, being suspended further into the room, I was looking directly into the faces of some of the male students who had come to watch. The previous week all I had seen was a wall. The blindfold was applied, and I tensed waiting for what I now knew would be the sharp sting of the whip across my back.
I heard the whoosh of the whip and felt as it struck just below my shoulder blades and the tip flicking round under my armpit to catch the side of my right breast. The searing pain was like someone dragging a knife across my back. I let out a fearful scream of pain that silenced the hubbub of background chatter that had been taking place.
“Better gag her,” Tony suggested, “Before the neighbours come calling wondering what we are doing.”
I had my panties stuffed into my mouth, and from somewhere someone produced a roll of rhino tape that sealed my mouth and contents shut. A silence descended and again I tensed in anticipation of the leather whip making contact with my prone back.
This time it was lower striking my bum right across both cheeks. I tried to jump, however, bound as I was I ended swinging free on the ropes securing me. I tried to scream, but just a muffled noise seemed to penetrate my very efficient gag.
For the next strike, I held my breath at the whip moved across me from lower left to upper right stinging like crazy as it hit. Once again, my gag did its work and stifled my screams. Tony kindly checked on my well being and asked if I was okay for another two strikes. I was determined that I would be and nodded my acquiescence.
Again there was a whoosh, and again the sharp pain as leather struck exposed skin. Yet again that stifled cry of agony from the willing yes suffering submissive.
There was some delay before I heard the now-familiar sound of the whip as it snaked once more towards my aching back. ‘Crack,’ it struck home just around my midriff the end curing round to leave a red line pointing almost directly towards my navel.
I confess I was delighted to be unbound and remove the blindfold. Someone held up a long mirror so I could see my back. Five deep red throbbing marks ran across it going from left to right and wrapping round to the front of my body. They were stinging and throbbing and aching all at the same time.
I was delighted to have accomplished my first proper session under a BDSM whip. I was even more surprised when I received a round of applause from those who had watched the proceedings. More was to follow.
It would have been about a month later when Tony asked if I was happy to try some more BDSM with him and a few friends. I discovered it was using other types of corporal punishment on me. He informed me that he now had other punishment items that he would like a victim to try them out on.
After due consideration, I agreed and arrived at his house as arranged a week later. Boy, did he have some equipment? A flexible cane for my bottom, a riding crop with a large leather end for my tits, plus a tawse – a nasty Scottish device made from leather slit down the middle and a handle. He also had a leather paddle, a soft, supple brown belt and proper leather flogger. It was some collection, and he wanted to practice with them all on me!
Once again, his friends were in attendance, and as before they stripped me naked to stand before them all as they watched what Tony had in mind. He spoke to me before he did anything, “Rachel all you have to do is yell stop, and I will stop. This is not as we did the other week where you took 5 strokes. If anything is too much for you, we stop. Understand?”
I nodded and said, rather meekly, “Yes, thank you.”
The soft cotton ropes were secured to my wrists and ankles, and I was placed in the spread-eagle position between the hooks. No place for any modesty as about ten young men all ogled at my vulnerable body. This time I was not offered the blindfold.
First, Tony flicked the leather end of the riding crop gently across and around each of my nipples. Of course, this had the effect of making then quite erect. Once they were how he wanted them, he flicked the crop down hard across my left breast catching the erect nipple perfectly. Oh, the pain that shot through me and made me attempt to stand back bound though my legs were. I was held secure by my bonds. A few seconds later and I saw his hand move quickly and before I had time to react my right breast filled with pain that seemed to shoot through every nerve of my body. I shouted out in sheer shock. “Stop! That’s enough for my breasts.”
Once Tony and a couple more interested men had checked on me, it was time for the cane on my bottom. This implement was not a fixed hard long piece of wood but a flexy bit similar to three-foot reed. As it had plenty of give I could see it would have plenty of sting when it met my bare bum. It did!
I did not hear any noise but just felt a stabbing pain in my bum as his cane made its first contact. I had determined that as I had only managed two hits on my breats I was going to make up with the cane and manage five. It was not to be! I knew after the second hard stroke that three was my limit as tears built up in my eyes.
“Stop!” I called out after the third whack of my pristine and pert bum, “Enough.”
Another check that I was OK followed before Tony took up the flogger for my back. That was much more manageable even when Tony had built up to full power on about stroke eight however by around his fifteenth swing at my back I knew I had had enough and once again called out, “Enough.”
Tony was as good to his word and stopped every time I asked for which I was thankful. This gave me confidence not just in Him but in others, who have used me through the years. I know the majority will indeed respect my limits.
“Just one more,” Tony commented as he walked around me surveying his work most of which I was unable to see but could undoubtedly feel across my back, bum and on my nipples. “I’ll use the belt between your legs on your cunt, Okay?”
“Won’t that hurt?” I questioned stupidly.
There was a chuckle from all the guys in the room. The majority were by now were standing holding their very hard and erect manhood in their hands and stroking them almost lovingly.
I realised as soon as I had said it that it was a stupid statement.
“I think it might,” Tony said, smiling at me and seeing my great embarrassment. “But don’t worry Rachel. You just say the word, and I stop just as before.”
He ordered my legs pulled further apart, and this involved quite a bit of readjusting of the ropes before he was satisfied. When they had finished, my legs were so far apart that most of my weight was taken by my arms suspended above me.
He took up a position that I thought strange behind me. I quickly realised why when the belt suddenly swung up between my open legs catching my pussy and tummy right up to my navel. I was not sure what hurt most stomach or pussy. I let out a cry of shock more than of pain, and before I knew it, the belt returned. This time his aim was slightly off as he caught the inside of my right thigh before the belt reached its intended target. This naturally enough slowed its speed before reaching my exposed pussy.
The fifth swing brought me to the point once again that enough was enough, and I said so. Now I really was stinging all over. Once again, as a few weeks before, the mirror was produced, and I could see my bum with its three distinct red lines crossing it and my back looked like it had a severe case of sunburn. Someone had thoughtfully brought a tube of E45 cream, and after releasing me from my bonds there was no shortage of help in applying this to my back bum and pussy area. I confess that lying naked on a bed and having cream rubbed into my sore parts was a very satisfactory end to that afternoon.
Tony was happy, although he did say casually, “I thought that you would have managed more all-round Rachel.”
I confess that I had thought the same but had been taken aback by the brutality of the pain his various implements had caused.
The more I thought about my failure the more I felt that I needed to challenge myself to be able to receive more than I had that first time. I confessed this to a female friend who had known what I was doing with Tony and his friends.
The next day she came to me with a suggestion. “Why don’t you play a game with Tony and his mates?”
“In what way?”
“Well, I was thinking of you writing on several sheets of paper various forfeits each with differing amounts of whipping on various places of your body. You place all the pieces of paper in a glass jar or whatever and pull one out. Whatever is written you allow being carried out on you.”
She wrote down what she meant just so that I was clear: –
Bullwhip on back 5
Crop 5 on each breast
“Just change the numbers up and down on each piece of paper and make say twenty all the same size, fold them and pull one out in the presence of Tony and his friends. Whatever is on that paper they do,” she continued to explain.
The idea sounded fun, so later that day when I met Tony in the student’s common room, I put it to him. He thought the idea was great and we agreed to try it the following Saturday. I was a bit apprehensive but thought too that we could have some fun as I sought to gain more from my newfound interest in becoming a pain slut.
I wrote out twenty pieces of paper all with the same de***********ion but with varying amounts of whatever whipping was to take place.
“Why not do a big one just for the fun of it,” my friend enquired?
“What do you mean?”
“You have twenty mixed ones with lower degrees of corporal punishment but add in an extra one with higher degrees, you know, Bullwhip 10, just to give the whole thing a bit of drama.”
“But what if I picked out that one?” I asked cautiously.
“You will be in big trouble,” my friend laughed, “However the odds of that happening are 20 to 1 so you should be safe. As I said, it will just add a bit of extra suspense when you are picking.”
I thought about is and concluded that she was right. I would do it. I added an extra piece of paper: –
Bullwhip on back 10
Crop 5 each breast
I thought that if by some fluke I managed to pick that one I would grit my teeth and take what was on the paper like a man… well woman!
The day arrived, and Tony had added an extra dimension. He had ten friends plus himself. They would all take two pieces of paper each and Tony would take one. He was thus making up the twenty-one differing options of punishment. Then I would pick one man and chose either his right or left hand. No one would know what they had, and neither would I. It sounded fun it was just the consequences that worried me. I knew that whatever happened that night I would go to bed rather sorer than when I woke up.
I arrived with my little pieces of paper taken from an exercise pad and carefully cut up to ensure they were all the same size. Tony took them and explained to his friends what was going to take place. He then put the pieces of paper into a breakfast bowl and walked around allowing them to take one each then returning so they took a second. The piece left was his.
I knew if I chose Tony that was bound to be the bad one that I most defiantly did not want. One of the guys was rather good looking with jet black hair brushed into a parting. I decided to pick him and then his right hand. Before he opened it, Tony asked me if I was quite sure that was the one I wanted. Suddenly I had doubts. Did Tony know something I didn’t? I changed my mind and went with the shortest and most podgy guy there and chose his left hand. Again I was asked if I wanted to change. I didn’t. Whatever it was in his hand I’d go with it.
He opened his hand, and with some reluctance, I took the piece of paper and opened it out. My eyes nearly popped out of my head when I saw the one that I held. I trembled and managed to drop it on the floor. It was the one terrible one! I could not believe it; I just could not believe it. It was impossible! How in the world had I managed that? I was sure there had been a conspiracy and said so. I was sure someone had somehow changed the pieces of paper so that they were all the same and all the worst.
In answer to my accusation, each of the young men there held out their hands with the pieces of paper still folded. I lifted every one. They were all different. It was true the one nasty one was the one out of twenty one I had picked! There it was in my handwriting: –
Bull whip on back 10
Crop 5 each breast
To be fair, Tony did ask if I wished to drop that one and try again. I have, however, always been blessed with a steely determination to do what I set out to do. I knew I could get through this if I fully put my mind to it.
“No!” I said to Tony. “That is the one I picked. I included it so I must pay the price! I will allow you to do all that it on that piece of paper.”
“Are you sure?” Tony asked, looking at me in a concerned manner.
“Yes, I am,” I responded “And no matter how much I beg or plead do not stop until I have taken every stroke detailed on that sheet. A silence filled the room.
“Are you quite sure?” He asked again.
“Yes, positively,” I added, “But hurry up before I change my mind!”
There was a slight murmur of laughter around the room.
“Can others join in and use these things,” Tony asked, pointing to the implements of torture he had laid out on the little table in the corner of the room.
“Yes,” I added trying to smile at everyone but inwardly feeling anything but as brave as I was trying to appear.
“Would you like us to prepare you?” they asked.
Once again, my jumper, blouse, jeans, shoes, socks and last of all, bra and panties were removed. Naked before what I could see were the lustful stares of Tony’s friends.
Someone then asked, “Mind if five more join us to watch?”
I had no real objections. What were five more on top of eleven? Here I was one young eighteen-year-old female student with sixteen horny male students. We were all away from home at university and wanting a good time. Mind you, I had well and truly drawn the short straw for a good time on this occasion.
The familiar soft cotton ropes were tied around my wrists and ankles and then the rest of the rope fed through the eye hooks on the ceiling and walls. Once in position and leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination of my audience, I was asked if I required the blindfold again. This time I declined. I knew that at the end I’d be in floods of tears and was very sure that such a sight would harness the best in sympathy for those viewing the proceedings.
“Better gag you if you don’t mind, only so that none of the neighbours think that we are murdering anyone,”
I agreed and was given a rubber bit with a buckle to go round my head. It had obviously been purchased for the occasion. I had never seen one before never mind worn one. It was useful as it gave me something to bite onto as well as help to stifle my cries.
“How do you want to do this?” Tony asked, “All of each section in one go or space things out so that we do a bit of each?”
“All in one go so that each is over and done,” I begged.
The Bullwhip was first, and I knew how painful that had been the first time. Now in my stupidity, I was going to get ten lashes instead of just the five I had received the first time I had been in this position.
I looked one of the guys standing opposite me strait in the eye as I braced myself for the first strike of the whip. I am not sure who was the most uncomfortable him or I.
‘Whip,’ the first unleashing of the coiled leather hit home right between my shoulder blades. My stifled scream only heard by those in the room. One down nine to go I thought as I felt myself beginning to sweat with either fear or excitement. I did not know which.
Suddenly I was hit again, much lower down this time, I tried to move my feet but was held firmly in place by my bonds. I counted each blow, trying not to lose concentration with the pain across my back that increased each time the whip unleashed in my direction. When I got to five, there was a slight pause as Tony handed the whip to another observer. I dared to look up and behind as the two talked in hushed tones.
The new guy was left-handed, so he moved from my left side to my right to take up a new position. I tensed, tears filling my eyes as I waited for number six to lash my back. Suddenly a frenzy of lashes hit me in quick succession one after another. I hardly had time to breathe never mind count as my stilted screams rang through the room with the explosion of new pain that came from my back.
As suddenly as it had started the frenzy stopped, and I hung breathing heavily and perspiring freely. The new guy had completed five without ceasing. It was all over… at least the Bullwhip. I allowed a slight smile to cross my face and relaxed ever so slightly.
I knew there was still a long way to go, but I had accomplished one of the six activities. I was in great pain, but oddly very happy.
I was left suspended but offered a drink of anything I wanted. I would have loved some Irn Bru, but of course, that uniquely Scottish drink was not available. I settled for Pepsi, and my gag was removed to allow me to drink.
After ten minutes, I was congratulated on my bravery so far and asked if it would be breast or bum next. I decided to go for breasts simply to try and balance out the pain, a little front side and a little back side!
Someone took the riding crop and with the large leather end played with my nipples making them erect without my desiring such an outcome. I knew what it meant.
Suddenly I saw the whip move back and then forward with grate rapidity. It struck my right nipple expertly, and I swung, as freely as I could, giving out more of a Croke than a scream. My left nipple was next, but the accuracy was somewhat off as the leather thong caught the top of my breast before hitting the erect nipple area, taking some of the pain out of a direct hit. Another two downward movements brought me more searing pain of direct hits on my erect and now swelling nipples.
The crop was handed to another, Six to go. This time no one decided to do anything in quick succession. Every stroke was measured to try and ensure the perfect hit. I wanted to try and pull away as I saw the crop rise but felt, for some reason, that such an action might be more dangerous. I stoically stood my ground to receive the blow aimed at my expectant tits.
Another four passed, leaving two to go. I was still conscious, although I thought only just. The pain now seemed to race through my blood into every cell of my body. Would I manage the other tortures still to be inflicted? I hoped so and intended to prove so even as the tears ran down my cheeks and I felt like shouting out through my gag ‘Enough! Stop!’
The last young man stood at the side of me, and after a couple of practice, swings made direct contact for the last time with my very sore and increasing swollen right nipple. I knew that wearing a bra for the next few days was an absolute no no! He took up position and swung the last blow to my left tit. I have no idea why, but that seemed to be the worst of them all. It felt not only as if someone had stuck a knife right into my right bosom but also had great delight in giving it a hard twist. I shivered, quavered, screeched swung and just allowed the ropes to hold my trembling frame. I now noticed that sweat was freely running down my body so intense were the feelings I was experiencing.
Again another welcome break and a chance to gulp down a proffered glass of water before the next item—the paddle to my bum. I had a feeling and thankfully was proved to be correct that this would be the one I could cope with the easiest as the paddle was broad and would cause less direct pain.
When all was ready, and I had been asked if I wished to continue a new guy took up the paddle and stood behind me ready for action. The gag was replaced while the paddle was swung in the air as if the operator was practising some kind of tennis shot.
Then it made contact with my bum with a solid slap sort of a sound. I swung murmured and relaxed. I knew I could indeed cope with this although, by the time a new hand had taken over control at slap number five, my bottom was feeling very raw and sore. I gritted my teeth as the paddle made contact on another five occasions by which time my bum felt as though it was on fire and I knew was glowing bright red to those watching from behind.
At last, I was loosed from the ropes. I did not, however, know whether to sit, lie or kneel on the floor—three-down four to go. I had lost any idea as to what I still faced as I knelt with my bum off the ground before my tormentors if I could call them that, as it was me who had orchestrated the events.
After a while, the guys asked if I was ready for the next session to begin. Whether I was ready or not, I was still determined to go through with it.
I was laid, rather painfully, on the bed and asked to open my legs. I knew then what was coming next—that soft leather belt on my most intimate and sensitive of areas. As I opened my legs to expose the area in question, I realised for the first time that it was not just my body that was soaking with perspiration, but my pussy was dripping wet with anticipation too. With all the pain I had been through this reaction had totally passed over me.
“Can we have a look?” Someone asked Tony, “We have never seen one in real life.”
“Can they?” Tony inquired calmly looking at me.
I sighed and nodded my consent from my position on the bed. I allowed my legs to be pulled even further. Excited but garbled voices whispered to beach other as I watched between the two holding me prone.
“You might as well get a torch and open me properly,” I offered. I knew that my natural hairy cunt was concealing much of what they wanted to see.
With that hands, gently groped and pocked and felt right up into my now open and available pussy. “She’s dripping wet,” someone said, “She loves being tortured!” It was true I was, and I had.
After procuring the torch for several minutes, different guys inserted fingers to open me up and take a closer look, some for the first time, of what a natural nineteen year old’s pussy looked like. There were gasps and words of appreciation from many. There were also questions as to when it along with the whole package, might be available to them.
Eventually, Tony brought presiding’s back to why we were all there, and I knew that my time of refreshing relaxation was over. It was time to be pussy whipped.
The two guys holding my legs opened moved slightly towards me as if scared that the belt would accidentally hit them instead of its intended target. Again I was asked if I wanted to be blindfolded, and again I refused. I thought about some of the larger cocks that had already been through my tight cunt lips. Could the pain that I had experienced then and the enjoyment resulting from that discomfort be the same here. If I thought positively, I might find it at least more bearable.
I was suddenly brought back to reality when the leather belt struck me painfully and forcefully full on my hairy pussy. It hurt. Suddenly there was another sharp pain as it hit again. I gave a gasp and a little squeal of shock and surprise—two down eight to go. From here on the pain grew more intense as my most intimate and sensitive area took a real pounding. I could feel my lips swelling and becoming sorer with each lash from the belt. By the time the seventh strike made contact, I had broken down entirely under the pain and was asking them to stop. I was told, correctly, that I had told them no matter what I said to carry on. They did.
Suddenly three very quick and incredibly painful swishes hit me hard to complete the punishment. I wriggled and writhed in pain being held tightly in place by the two with a firm grip on my open legs. I shouted out in total shock as the last three struck home. It felt like my pussy was going to explode or had already been torn right open. I could feel liquid running down between my legs. It was sweat; however, for a few awful seconds, I did wonder if it had been blood.
I knew now that I just had to endure the flogging, tawse and cane the last two would be upon my still red and warm bum. Tony gave me the option of choosing which came first. I decided the flogging but only after checking the condition of my swollen cunt in the mirror.
I was strung up with my hands over my head. This time my feet were not pulled apart and attached to the wall. I was hoisted almost onto tiptoes but not quite as the ball of my foot stayed on the group. This position meant that I could swing freely upon the ropes, which was to me a bit of a relief. Once again, the lads checked to ensure I still wanted to continue. When every sinew of your body aches unceasingly, I was not sure what other pain could be inflicted. Then they inquired as to whether I wanted a slow flogging or a quick one. I opted for the latter and closed my eyes as one of the guys took the flogger and got into position.
I had no time to adjust position as the onslaught was unceasing. Ten lashes rained down upon my naked body. They landed across my shoulders and over my still marked and sore back. There were a few seconds break when I attempted to catch my breath, and someone else took possession of the flogger. Then another ten flashes as the leather throngs tore across my exposed form. The individual hits were lost on me as I let out one long and agonising moan along with one piercing scream just after the flogging had ceased.
This last piercing, cry made everyone realise that they had forgotten to gag me! They all waited for neighbours to come running, demanding an explanation. None did.
I was allowed to look in the mirror once again. Through my tear-filled eyes, I could see my body had been turned lobster pink. Long lines showed where the bullwhip had struck home, and large red areas told the tail of my flogging. As I looked at my bum, I knew that soon that would not only be red from the paddle but marked by stripes from the cane and tawse.
The young men inquired as to whether I wanted a break. All I wanted was to get the whole thing over and then relax. The ropes were released, and I was led into another room. Here I was made to kneel alongside a bed with my bum in the air, my knees on the floor, and my body reclining over the duvet set. I did so and asked in it could all be done quickly again. This time the gag was not forgotten.
The tawse was first. It is a nasty leather affair a bit like a belt sliced down the middle to create two thongs that could be very painful. It is a predominantly Scottish implement used in our schools until only about forty or so years ago. I knew it was painful.
I took up my position as instructed while the assembled audience gathered round in expectancy. Suddenly all went quiet for a second or so and then a ‘swooshing’ noise and a sharp crack and biting pain from my backside. I hardly had time to breathe until it was all over. I couldn’t have shouted stop if I’d have wanted to as everything happened so quickly. I shook and shivered, even though I wasn’t cold. I realised too that my hair was wet right through with my perspiration.
Another guy took the cane and positioned himself to give the last of the treatments on the list. I heard him flexing the rod as I buried my head in the duvet and waited wondering when I would next be able to sit on my backside pain-free.
Once again, as with the tawse, the caning finished almost as quickly as it had stated. I heard five sharp cracks in rapid succession and felt the shooting and searing pain like lightning tear through my body. I kept my face down and wept into the duvet.
Suddenly I was gently lifted to my feet, and everyone clapped and cheered. I cannot begin to describe either the pain I was in or the relief that I felt that it was all over. Every one of those young men came and gave me a (very light) cuddle and thanked me for what I had done.
I had to lie on the bed while various ointments and lotions were applied. Hands rubbed my back, bum and between my legs before I rolled over to receive the same treatment on my breasts tummy and pussy. I was amazed that so many hands could find a tiny space on me that was not already occupied, but they seemed to manage it.
I was just delighted and, to be honest, amazed that I had allowed and survived what had taken place. It had been incredible. However, I still had words to speak to my female friend who had suggested that nasty extra piece of paper be included. Now, where was she!