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Whipping Muriel's Breasts
Until She Orgasms, Until She Faints, Until She Submits
"Ah, madame, do you remember the first time you crucified me? I haven't forgotten. How you laughed! It's my turn to laugh now, isn't it? You didn't think then that Juliette was to have the chance to write her name on your naked bottom, or you mightn't have been so keen on showing me how it was done."
She went to the loops which fastened the legs and took them off. "Now turn her over on her back," she said to me. "Perhaps she would rather display her breasts and belly than her hinder parts." I went to Muriel and pulled her towards me. She made no resistance. Her eyes were closed, her cheeks were wet with her tears, her whole body shook with gasping sobs. I rolled her over on her back and Juliette quickly refastened the legs. When she felt her bottom resting on the cushions, she started and screamed with the pain and tried to turn over again, but she was too late. Juliette had secured the ankles.
"Now, madame, for the real crucifixion." She pulled open the tea-gown at the neck and displayed all her mistress' charms.
There she lay outstretched for sacrifice, her breasts standing out firm, her belly raised by the ridge of cushions on which her bottom rested, while her legs, stretched as wide apart as possible, showed all her sex.
Scarcely a mark of her chastisement showed from our present point of view, only between her legs a few marks of the birch showed and the lips of her pussy seemed swollen slightly and flushed.
She presented altogether a maddening spectacle to my eyes, which wandered over all her body. Her position was ideal for any form of attack and I couldn't resist the temptation of putting my hand between her legs and investigating the gaping lips of her pussy.
Juliette watched me jealously. "Do you want to be in her? I should wait till to-morrow, but you can go on doing that if you like while I finish the crucifixion. It won't interfere with me. In fact, it will make it all the more amusing. She will have two different kinds of tickling at the same time."
My fingers began to probe the soft clinging lips of Muriel's pussy, while Juliette flicked the nipples of her breasts with the lash of one of the riding whips. She stood at the head of the couch and Muriel's white body lay stretched between us. Under the gentle persuasion of my fingers Muriel's sobs and groans gradually changed into sighs. Her thighs contracted, little twitchings and spasms ran over her smooth belly, evidently the pain of the whipping had not taken all sexual feeling from her.
"Tell me when she comes," said Juliette eagerly, as the little lash flicked here and there with a sort of wicked caress. "Now," I said as I felt the lips of Muriel's pussy contract, and her bottom heaved with convulsive thrusts and her thighs contracted and imprisoned my hand.
I was not prepared for what followed. Without a word of warning, Juliette lifted the whip above her head and brought it heavily down on her mistress' body, straight up and down between her breasts, causing a long straight weal starting from the valley between her breasts, crossing the navel, and ending just above the dainty brown curls of the bush where the lash cut the skin and a few beads of blood appeared. Muriel's sighs and moans of passion changed to a shriek of agony, but Juliette paid no heed. She stepped to one side and again brought the whip down on the unprotected body, but this time across from side to side, just across the breasts. Another weal appeared, making a perfect cross. I felt Muriel's body grow suddenly limp. I looked at her face; it was deadly pale. She had fainted.
How beautiful she looked there, with her arms tied above her head, her eyes closed, her mouth partly open, her head drooping, the purple lines of the cross showing up on her deathly pale skin, her firm plump legs stretched this way and that, revealing the beautiful mossy curls and soft lips of her pussy, still dewy with the involuntary sacrifice to love. I looked to Juliette to see what she would do and went to unfasten the loops.
"Oh, she'll come round all right," said Juliette, "you needn't worry. I've had lots worse from her than that. Don't untie her yet."
"I won't have her whipped any more," I said. "We've given her quite enough. Get some water and bring her round." Juliette went to the bedroom, and I chafed Muriel's hands and cheeks. Her eyes slowly opened and she looked at me. I was prepared for anger and resentment, but instead of that I only saw submission and appeal.
"Cruel, cruel," she murmured. "How could you be so cruel?"
I bent down and kissed her lips. "I'm sorry," I answered, "but you had to learn who was master. Have you learnt it?" Her eyes said yes and I kissed her again.
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Whipping Blog Posts:Bondage Blog: "It’s amazing what you can find on Usenet! Namely, Elvis Presley getting a prison whipping. This would appear to be a production still from Jailhouse Rock..." (More...) Bondage Blog: "Tied down like that on an old wooden trestle table, you’d expect her to be in trouble, and you’d be right. Now she’s yelling; I guess that leather belt he’s whipping her ass with hurts a bit. Good thing she’s held firmly in place, eh?" (More...) Bondage Blog: "This comes from Spanking Blog, where the appeal doubtless had something to do with this girl’s tears and the big-ass leather prison strap she’s getting whipped with. But I like the artwork for that lovely kneeling slave posture..." (More...)
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