Katrina's Taming

KATRINA'S TAMING (by Eve Adorer)

Chapter 15 – Katrina On Trial

The endless pitiless darkness in which I sobbed and howled in the deepest of deep misery in the soundproofed pitch black naughty girl's cell, alternated with the endless pitiless darkness in which I determined that I must only plead 'guilty' at my trial.

The horror of losing my citizenship rights and even becoming a slave if the court found me 'very-guilty' was constantly preying on my mind. I still owed huge debt to Jackie. If the court found me very-guilty, I would have no right to paid employment. Jackie would then surely apply to the court to have me made her slave, so that she could use me to repay what I owed her. She was a friend, but friendship has its limits and there is nothing like money to end friendships, no matter how strong they seem, or how long they have hitherto endured. Jackie had not made all the money she had now accumulated, by squandering any significant amount on friends.

I continued, as I enforcedly must, in the endless pitiless darkness of the hell cell, to stand on very-tip-top-tiptoe. But even a fit girl such as I, could not do so forever, and I was in agony after four hours of succeeding in keeping sexily leggilly tiptoed, from having to lower my heels and thus impale them on the tips of spikes, one in each heel.

Even after that, I had tried to move to ease the agony of being constantly stood at rigid attention. As a consequence my lovely bare arms were scratched and bleeding.

Then I had been overcome by overwhelming tiredness, let myself fall back, been viciously stabbed in my gorgeous buttocks and the back of my magnificent thighs by the cruel totally unyielding spikes on the rear wall of the cell, only for my reflexes to shoot me forward so that my glorious bare thighs were then stabbed in the front.

I had screamed with the agony, and then compounded and completed my misery my letting go my bladder so that my golden steaming hot urine had run in long rivulets down the insides of my gloriously shapely legs, this heat to be immediately followed by the 3.00 a.m. firing of the overhead shower, dousing me in freezing cold girl-pee for two whole wholly and totally miserable humiliatingly cruel minutes.

I was beyond even sobbing after all this. All I had was my determination to stay alive. This cell was punishment for being a convicted thief. It was also to break my spirit so that I would be so tired and tortured and submissive, that I would plead very-guilty in the court. I was not going to be broken; I was not going to plead very-guilty.

And yet later, as I suffered the excruciating agony of repeated cramps in my superb long calves, I found myself calling out to be released. I begged for mercy. I shouted that I would plead very-guilty if only they would let me out of this hellhole.

I did not mean it of course. I could not help it. I was a girl in hell and agony: absolute hell: absolute agony.

My hell could not be more complete; or could it?

I had lost all track of time. Was it an hour or four or two since the shower had gone off? I did not know. I could not recall. But what I did know was that I desperately needed to defecate.

What choice did I have as I stood rigidly unsleepingly tiptoed to enforced soldierly attention surrounded on all sides by the vile spikes that were to keep me standing to attention in my cell, forever standing to attention to show a naughty girl's respect for the law.

I could not even lower my pretty head in the deep deep shame that filled me as more of my hot dark-yellow girl pee running down the insides of my gloriously shapely legs was close followed by my vile stinking fart of long pent up bowel wind, followed by the echoing "slop" of my faeces as I shit from my enforced constant standing position, and my fresh stinking shit slopped on my cell floor, on my thighs and on my strong shapely calves, to which it clung.

I still had some tears left in me, and they ran down my pretty face as I stood in my own shit and piss, my own stinking filthy shit and piss filling my nostrils with its stench.

……………………

Endless, endless, endless hours passed like endless, endless, endless days, as I continued, as I must continue, to stand sexy leggy tiptoed in that cell. I had almost cried with relief when the second firing of the cold girl pee shower had at least washed most of my shit off my legs. And I had had to drink some of the girl pee.

Then there was a scratching on my cell door and a laser-white burning bright shaft of light as the keyhole cover was lifted.

My heart lifted too, and I cried out for joy. But then I heard a girl's voice say: "No not that one, it's number seven", and the light disappeared as the cover went over my lock to fully re-soundproof my cell once more, and to be followed by more seemingly endless hours of pitch-dark heartbreaking misery for me.

……………………

Despite that experience, I somehow knew it was me they were letting out when the keyhole cover was opened once more.

My cell door was opened and I heard a familiar voice say: "Hello luv", and I broke down and cried once more.

When my eyes were able to stand the light again, the two girlwardens that had arrested me stood ready to take me to the court.

"My, you are in a mess", said the kindly girl. "You're to go before the court, so we'll hose you down first, they don't like them smelly", she continued.

Then she whispered that I should try and catch a drink as I was hosed: "Lift your prison dress and we'll hose your bum clean for you as well luv".

Her companion was readying the hose, and I was being escorted to a corridor corner where there was a drain, as my gentle girlwarden said, out of the hearing of her colleague, "Don't ask for food luv, we're only allowed to feed the prisoners on their own shit."

The water from the hose was bitterly cold but so, so, very, very welcome as it washed my body of my pee and faeces and I caught as much as I could to drink, the kindly girl making her colleague point the hose at my lower face for some time so that I could do so.

I was still dripping with the water that gave my incredibly wonderful legs a compelling glowing shine, as my wrists were handcuffed behind me, and both girlwardens walked me along the corridor to the waiting court.

Suddenly even the kind girlwarden seemed harsher. I could sense why. It was fear.

"Don't let us down bitch. Plead very-guilty and we'll get a bonus see", sneered the not so kind girlwarden.

"When you get to the dock, you must put your feet in the stirrups" advised the gentler girl. "You'll see what I mean. And you must address the judges as 'my most revered and highly honoured ladies' and refer to yourself only as, 'this very naughty girl'. You plead as you think it right to do as well luv…… Be brave luv!"

I became all too aware of the constant buzz of conversation as I was walked closer and closer to some very high elaborately carved wooden doors, one of which stood open. This was the courtroom coming ever closer, and that hum of assembled women was the noise of the judges their clerks and the public come to watch them administer justice in the next case: 'The State versus Katrina ******' "

As we three got closer to these doors, I wanted to turn back and had to be grasped.

"You must go in alone, right to the front and into the prisoner's dock", I was instructed.

Still wearing only my shaming recycled sack as prison dress, but otherwise totally naked and leaving spots of my blood behind where one of the wounds from the spikes that had dug into my heels as I had stood in my cell for those endless hours, had not scabbed over, I femininely swayed into the court. My lovely bum hemispheres were undulating naturally, and my gorgeous titties flowing and swaying to and fro, rubbing my nipples on the rough sacking I wore, as I girl-wiggle-walked into the court.

A hushed silence fell over the place, followed by a gasp and then a sob, at the obvious post-torture state I was in, from what I instinctively knew, even though I walked with my head down in fear, to be poor young Norna.

As instructed, I made my way to a raised platform, which was just a few feet from the bench of judges. I could feel their eyes enjoying my body as with my strong shapely sexy legs I took each of three two-foot high steps, flashing my naughty naked bum as I did so, to stand on the prisoner's dock.

Once on the platform, I saw what must be the stirrups. They comprised four short planks of wood arranged into two upright "V" shapes. I lifted my gorgeous right leg, and put my pretty right foot into the V forming the right stirrup. My foot sank down and I lifted my glorious left leg, and put my dainty left foot, still bleeding as it was, into the left V, and I was now standing with all the feminine magnificence of my orgasmically stupendous legs tiptoed en pointe, for the court to enjoy the most erotic sight in all the world: a girl with wonderful legs.

There was a sudden buzz of a motor, and I swayed a little, having been taken off-guard as, unexpectedly for me at least, the stand on which I was on top-tip-of-tiptoe super-leggy-display, began to slowly rotate so that the whole of the court and all the judges could see all of the body of the very naughty girl who was before them.

"Which one is this?" demanded the head of the three judges, as I continued to slowly rotate on humiliating display to the court and to the public gallery.

"Very Naughty Girl 36D2437-001: a convicted thief: a shoplifter m'lady", answered the girlwarden who had taken notes at my arrest.

"Ah yes," mused the judge, "Katrina ******. Stole scent."

"With all very due respect m'lady, it was nail varnish", the girlwarden interjected in a nervous and very apologetic tone.

"Whatever", the judge rejoined. "Old enough to know better. She's a grown woman, and a very, very, delightful one too," she mused.

"Witnesses for the prosecution?"

"Two very respectable members of the public, officials at the store where the theft took place and who heard 36D2437-001 confess m'lady, as did my GirlControl colleague and I just before the arrest itself m'lady"

"Defence witnesses?"

"None m'lady"

"First offence?"

"Yes m'lady"

"I see from the computer screen, that she's intelligent and well educated, as well as being extremely beautiful. Is she an intact virgin and is she presently menstruating?"

"No m'lady. Neither of them m'lady"

"So, she's a candidate for the spike then", the judge mused out loud once more.

"36D2437-001 how do you plead, guilty or very-guilty?" the judge asked me, in a surprisingly gentle way.

I remembered how I was obliged to couch my response: "My most revered and highly honoured ladies. This very naughty girl humbly begs to plead guilty," I whispered, with my chin on my chest, as I continued to be slowly rotated on public display.

The three judges chatted very briefly.

"36D2437-001, 'guilty' is an inadequate plea. Do you change your mind and plead very-guilty?"

I was silent momentarily from shock at this response, and from it's being given me in so short a time.

"My most revered and highly honoured ladies. This very naughty girl humbly begs to only plead guilty" I whispered once more, this time my voice betraying the full trembling depth of my fear, now that I knew I was expected by this court to have pleaded very-guilty.

"36D2437-001, you can either change your mind now, or we will give you an hour in which to change your mind from 'guilty' to 'very-guilty', and that hour will be very distressing for you. Do you wish to change your plea to very-guilty, here and now?"

I recollected that I would lose nearly all my citizen's rights and could even be made a slave were I to be found very-guilty, and gave the only response that I could: "My most revered and highly honoured ladies. This very naughty girl humbly begs to only plead guilty" I repeated with tears trickling down my exquisite face.

The judges turned to one another and chatted among themselves, as my lovely body, wrists still handcuffed behind my back, continued to rotate on display for the pleasure of the all girl court and all-female public audience. Then one of the judges wrote something down and passed it to a clerk, who hurried away with the slip of paper.

"36D2437-001, we have decided you need persuading to change your plea. Unless you change your plea to 'very-guilty' here and now, you will suffer an hour-long whipping. Do you wish to change your plea?"

I was choking with my tears as I responded: "My most revered and highly honoured ladies. This very naughty girl humbly begs to only plead guilty".

"Bring her back when she has been taught a lesson", the chief judge ordered in a bored and resigned monotone.

……………………

My two GirlControl escorts took me down from the dock and a general hubbub broke out in the court among which I heard, "I love you Katrina, I love you!" from the melodic girly voice of the lovely schoolgirl Norna.

I was taken into an anteroom in which I immediately saw there were a number of posts and a startling number and variety of whips hanging on the walls. The walls of this room were white-tiled as was the floor. Four very strong looking older women, mid-thirties to early forties, were there, and had obviously been waiting around for me to be brought in.

"This 36D2437-001?" the woman in charge of them asked my escorts.

"Yea" said my crueller escort.

"Do us a favour darlin' and take 'er dress off of 'er for us will yer?" asked the chief torturette.

I had never ever felt as lonely as I felt now. Lonely and very tired after the endless completely sleepless hours in that horrible cell: hours that had been meant to tire me and to break my spirit. Soon now it would be forty-eight hours since I had slept, and the dark black rings under my lovely dark-brown but bloodshot eyes told that this was so.

The girlwardens took off my handcuffs and lifted my filthy prison old-coarse-sack uniform dress over my head, as the chief among my torturers re-read the note the judges had sent her.

She then looked up and caught first sight of me fully nude. "Wow! Wow! Wowwee!! Well lookee here. You are a beauty and no mistake. What lovely titties! You ought to be a model darlin'. See someone whipped your back already, not so long ago….. Bit of a naughty girl were yer darlin'?"

She then looked in obvious admiration at my pretty rosebud-pink nipples, with their one-inch diameter areole. "We'll 'ardly be able to miss hitting them gorgeous nipples will we darlin? Bet they really turn the other girls on don't they, eh?"

The chief torturer's companions took over from the two girlwardens who had left me alone with the four older women, and I was tied by straps with by back to a wooden whipping post that ran from floor to ceiling. Straps held my ankles to the post, more straps just above the knees tied my legs to it, a single broad strap tied me around my belly to the post, another strap under my armpits across the top of my chest, and a final one around my neck, finished my tight close, immovably tight close, binding to the post.

The women binding me, then went behind the post and tied my wrists to the back of the post at the height of the small of my back.

The chief torturette inspected my bonds. "Get the cushion up behind her back and tighten that belly strap, I want the chest and her tits thrust right out, yer get me?"

She gazed at my chest: "Ain't they beauties. She must be a good D or double-D bra cup with big 'uns like that. And so firm! Lucky bitch! Lovely big nipples too!!"

The operation of pushing a cushion up behind me, to thrust out my chest the more, being completed, I stared out horizontally, having no choice because of the way my neck was strapped to the post. I stared out horizontally as did my totally naked breasts. I stared out horizontally only too aware of the completely nude vulnerability of my wonderful girl-soft nude mammaries, and of their delightfully pretty one-inch diameter areole rosebud-pink nipples.

"Now then darlin', we're going to see just how high these lovely titties of yours will bounce ain't we, eh?"

"We knocks 'em down and up they bounce, so we knocks 'em down and up they bounce again, and it fuckin' hurts darlin', cos it's your fuckin' nipples getting hit wiv a tawse, a very special tawse just for pretty nipples like the beauties you've got, eh?"

"Look at it darlin'" she waved one of the two tawses they were going to use on me, in front of my eyes. It was a one-foot-long, quarter-inch-thick, black leather strap, with three tongues at its business end.

"Nipple whip darlin'" she went on. "The two outside tongues kiss your nipple-surroundings, and they've got flat steel studs in 'em so that 'urts, and the middle one gets you right on the point of yer nipple itself. It's a steel ball that one darlin', and that one hits you just a bit later following through behind as it does, and that one really fuckin' 'urts"

"Me and my girls, we're spot on at hitting nipples. Yer titties will bounce like they've never ever bounced before, like yer didn't know they could possible ever bounce; but we'll still hit you dead on your nipples, time and time and time again darlin', cos we're good at it, that's what we are. Dead on the nipple, time and time again, we're that fuckin' good!"

"Do you want to plead very-guilty now before we starts on yer darlin'?"

I was horrified at the prospect of what was going to be done to me, but how could I plead very-guilty knowing it could well result in my being made a slave?

"No!" I said, in a louder voice than I meant the word to come out with.

"Look darlin' you got an hour to change yer mind. We don't want to hit yer lovely titties. Believe me. But when we gets goin' it'll feel like you're your titties are goin' to be whipped right off.".

"I am only guilty: I am only guilty", I sobbed.

"Look darlin'. Believe me. When we get goin' you'll wish you'd never had titties."

I am only guilty!" I cried out once more.

"Have it your own way then darlin'"

"Set the clock goin' Tracy".

My sixty minutes began to tick away and the whipping of my lovely perky nipples began on the dot of the clock. The chief woman and one assistant, Tracy, hit one each of my breasts whilst the other two girls waited with thin highly flexible headmistresses' canes in their hands, with which to whip my poor nipples when their turn came.

My first two torturers built up their rhythm and my breasts bounced like wild independent creatures, as if they were trying to leap free from the rest of my body, or to hide themselves from the next vicious whip kiss.

They worked totally methodically, taking one breast each as their targets and careful aim at the tip of the breast for every stroke. They would wait for the reverberations of previous strokes through my full firm breasts to settle before they struck, and took account of the heaving of my breathing and my struggles to turn myself away from their terrible torment.

They also took due time to line up their aim and ensure they had the full swing they needed to ensure the hardest strike and thus the worst pain. These were professionals who took pride in their work. They knew how to make the torture worst for the victim and therefore the more likely to bring the surrender to the "very-guilty" verdict the court sought from the naughty girl at the receiving end. They knew how and when to swing their tawses to get the maximum delivery at the point of impact - the point of impact being the points of my breasts: my poor beautiful nipples.

The tawses were being used to prepare my nipples for the real interrogation of my will: the savage questioning from the canes to come.

And the accuracy of my torturers was phenomenal. No matter that my breasts were bouncing and threshing up and down and side-to-side as they were hit with all the force of the full savagery that these strong women could bring to bear. And no matter how much I howled with the terrible pain as each stroke stabbed my nerve endings like red hot pokers, not least the cruel balls on the middle tongue of the tawses that hit the centre peaks of my nipples, so that I screamed with the pain, they hit me time and time and time and time and time again, nine-times-out-of-ten, exactly on my beautiful nipples, and it was excruciating hell.

It was pain, it was agony, it was brutality, it was horribly frightening, as I feared I must lose my poor nipples so hard and so often were they being hit, and so hard and so far down were my breasts being thrashed, before they bounced up to almost hit my upper chest and then levelled throbbing and still shuddering from their thrashing down, only for their nipples to be hit hard once again, and for the breast hit to dive and stretch and bounce up hard and high, and then level and throb and twitch from the reverberations of the impact of the tawse on its nipple, only, once steadied, to be brutally hit on its nipple once more, and once more dive down stretched by the savage impact, and dive up in springing reaction, to level and throb and judder, as its companion breast was now whipped and it dived and bounced and levelled, and the original breast was now whipped again, and bounced down and down and stretched and flew wildly up to level and have its companion breast hit once more, so that its companion breast dropped and thrust down and flew up, and on, and on, and excruciatingly on, and on, they thrashed my nipples, as I cried out in total total agony.

And to my torturers this was everyday work, and they chatted about inconsequentials or deeply personal matters as they thrashed my nipples time after time…

"You ain't really goin' to fuckin' Scotland are you, that's not a holiday. I told my Sarah it was Italy or nowhere for us, else I'd divorce 'er…."

My brutal thrashing continued even as this base discussion was going on……

"Got a lot of bounce ain't she?"

"Give her another twenty on each one and we'll let Mandy and Amy use the canes on them"

"……Like I say, you're only goin' to fuckin' Scotland for that tart. She's only sixteen and still at school, you dirty cow. Still she is a cracker though. They're so fuckin' randy at that age they just can't keep their panties on, you fuckin' lucky bitch!"

"Wouldn't mind shagging this one either. She's a real cracker, eh? See one wiggle of that bum of 'ers, and you'd be a deeply weird bitch if you weren't turned on, eh? Bet she loves to fuck! Bet if you got a finger on 'er clit she'd be all over you like a fuckin' rocket-rattlesnake, eh?"

Such was the skill and practice of these women that there was no let up in my brutal thrashing, despite this chit chat.

"Bet she's got a fuckin' juicy cunt too. Ain't she like that photo model? You know, that Katrina whatshername? Totally knockout stunnin' she is: that Katrina whatshername. Wouldn't mind getting my hand in 'er knickers, I can tell you, eh?"

"So. Do you wanna plead very-guilty now then darlin'?

My preparatory whipping had been stopped.

"No" I sobbed.

My preparation and the possibility of my surrendering to the initial whipping with the tawses having been gone through, my torturers turned to the even worse evil for me: the canes.

"Go on then Mandy, and you Amy. Use the canes on her nipples and make 'em fuckin' bleed. Then she'll give up, the dumb fuck".

I tensed as the two reserve girls took up their individual stances one each side of my tight tied body. Mandy went first. She tapped lightly on my left nipple with her cane, lifted her cane high above her shoulder, arm out straight, straight up in the air, and then backward of straight, and then brought it down through a 180 degree arc directly on my left nipple with greater accuracy than a laser guide bullet, whipping right through with her cane, and I screamed and screamed with the terrible terrible pain when her cane's tip thrashed my left nipple, thrusting my stretched breast down with such rapidity and force that it bounced back up even harder and higher than either of my breasts had hitherto bounced with the hardest strokes from the terrible tawses.

And I tensed again as Amy now tapped on my right nipple to align herself for the stroke, and then whipped her cane tip down on my totally naked right nipple with even harder force, and I again screamed with the terrible pain.

"Mercy! Mercy!" I begged.

"You wanna plead very-guilty now then darlin'?"

I made no answer but the cane came down on my left nipple with a whistle and a "THWICK" and this time my cry was sexual, undeniably sexual: deeply, divinely, girlilly sexual.

I was in the ecstasy of agony that positively proves the saying that a truly beautiful girl should only ever have love made to her in one of two ways: by another truly beautiful girl, or with a whip.

Amy, lined up her cane to whip my right nipple again and I wanted to feel the absolutely horrible pain. I wanted to have my tit's very tip thrashed brutally and unmercifully. Thrashed to feel its helpless superb beauty dance to the tune of the cane. Thrashed to have its dream that it was free to move and flow and float, as is the desire of every girl's bare breast in the world when its encumbering and controlling brassiere is peeled from her to let her breasts roam wild and free on her chest as nature intended, and be taught by the cane that it's movements must be controlled and harshly disciplined, and that it would be given pain to teach it its place in the world, to show it that it was just a breast and had no right to roam and no right to be free, and that if it claimed such rights it would have its arrogance thrashed from it, as the cane would beat it down, and though it might bounce up again in its strong willed arrogant beauty, it would be thrashed down even harder again, to teach it that it ultimately had only one direction of movement, the humbling painful downward direction in which it was being thrashed, and that it would be thrashed harder and harder and again and again, until it learned that it had no right to freedom and roaming and must learn to be humble and be controlled and contained, and that its wildness would be thrashed out of it even if it had to be made to bleed to understand that though it may be very beautiful, beauty has its price, and that price is to choose containment and constraint over freedom and roaming on a girl's lovely chest, or to try for the freedom and wild roaming, and risk meeting its mistress in the cane, that would whip it until it surrendered to tameness, to pain it, to bruise it, to cut it, to make it bleed, if need be to make it bleed, so as to humble it, to teach it its lowly place, and that freedom and roaming on a lovely girl's chest to entice and excite, have their potential price in extreme pain.

The cane's tip came whistling down for a third time on my left nipple and I moaned with sexual abandonment as my lovely breast bounced wickedly hard but did not learn its lesson and stay down where the cane put it, but bounced arrogantly up once more to challenge the cane to discipline it again as if to say I will not be beaten down, my beauty will not surrender to your pain. And Amy whistled her cane harder still down on my right nipple and again my sexual moans echoed around the tiled torture chamber in which I was being so brutally whipped for being a very naughty girl.

The cane then swooshed down for a fourth time on my left nipple, and I girly gasped with the horrible pain from my lashing lover, the wicked wanton witch switch that kissed this girl so searingly savagely sexually on her tortured tit tip, to bounce the bountiful beauty of her gloriously gentle mothering mammary, to teach it subservience to power through pain and make it bow before its brutal mistress, only for its perky independent imperiousness to stand it up back from whence it had been thrashed, and to therefore beg to be thrashed once more, to be taught a lesson that it just would not learn, that a beautiful breast is for the capture and control of a brassiere and not for nature's natural free floating and roaming on a beautiful girl's chest, and that for all breasts found outside their rightful and proper containment and control of brassieres it is always open season for their wanton wildness to be thoroughly thrashed from them.

My right breast jiggled and joggled with the thrashing down of my left. Amy waited with practiced patience for my lovely flesh to settle and for the vibrations of the bounce that my left breast had just been brutally smashed into, to run their delicious course through my superb bosom, so that she could be sure of a wholly accurate and precisely hard hit on my right nipple with the tip of her cane, with which she now lightly tapped my right breast to line up her aim. And I wanted my nipple to be whipped again. I wanted my nipples to be whipped again and again and again. And the sound of my sexual sexy girly moans was changing in tune from the pleasure of the pain from my recently whipped left nipple to the still echoing pain of the previous lash on my right one, and to the anticipation of yet another of the never ending lashes on my naked nipples. And this time Amy waited longer so as to make me wonder if my whipping was over, and to give me the psychological torture of thinking that it was all done, and I had survived, so that she could break me by the sudden new lash on my tit tip. And she this time began to jiggle my breast by using her cane to tap the underside of its beautiful pert firmness so that she set up vibrations through my soft girl's flesh and so that my right breast was still jiggling lightly as she again brought her cane down on my right nipple with a resounding THWICK and a murderous holler of pain and wanton wicked sexual pleasure from me and my wholly sexually absorbed and obsessed mind, as my cunt was rolling me through a slow burning orgasm from the whipping and whipping and whipping of my nude nipples

No sooner had my right tit resettled in its arrogant perky pert pose, than Mandy whipped my left nipple again. So accurate was her aim and so co-ordinated, to my misfortune, was her timing, and the timing of my tit in levelling itself to sit up and defy the thrashing, this was the hardest hit yet. I moaned with sexual abandonment as my lovely left breast bounced wickedly hard but did not learn its lesson and stay down where the cane put it, but bounced challengingly up once more to defy the cane to discipline it again, as if to say I will not be beaten down, my beauty will not surrender to your pain. And Amy whistled her cane even harder still down on my right nipple and again my sexual gasps groans and moans echoed around the tiled torture chamber, the cries of a very naughty girl being whipped.

The cane came whistling down for a sixth time on my left nipple and I began to beg to be whipped. I began to call out for my tit tips to be whipped with the cane tips, for them to whip my nipples and whip them hard and harder.

And my completely brutalised left nipple was at long last split by this cane stroke, and my blood spattered on my face as my tit bounced up, and still I let out the deepest of deep animal sexual moans, my nectar already dribbling from my cunt.

And my right nipple was whipped with Amy's vicious whistling cane a sixth time and blood spurted from it too, to splash on the floor and onto Amy as my breasts continued to be taught their place by the canes that thrashed them down to humble them and beat the arrogant thrusting beauty from them. And my blood was spattering my torturers as my tits would just not learn their lessons and must continue to be continuously whipped and whipped even as my split nipples splashed my blood on me and my horrendous pain pleasured my cunt and I was coming with the biggest rolling thunderstorm of girl-orgasm.

And Mandy whipped by left nipple with its seventh and the very hardest stroke of the cane yet. And even yet my insolent breast would not stay down when the cane whipped its nipple so extremely hard down, so extremely far down, that in its upward spring the blood spurted from its nipple onto the white-tiled ceiling of the room. Amy now waited patiently for my arrogant breast to settle itself, as Mandy signalled to Amy that this next stroke was going to be Mandy's once more, and that she was going to discipline this haughty tit that so wilfully disobeyed its mistress by returning every time to the place from which she had whipped it. And Mandy whipped my left nipple yet once more and I screeched with pain as she hit my left nipple even harder still. And still my disobedient left tit would not surrender its right to protrude in all its soft feminine firm bountiful bouncy beauty from my lovely chest.

The girls with the canes rested, and they were back to using the tawses on my nipples to soften up my will, to keep pain in their targets for the next round with the canes, and to let the girls with the canes be refreshed sufficiently to once more use maximum force on me.

But now at each THWICK of the tawses, I was begging for them to whip me harder and harder and harder and harder as my cum was rolling on slowly with my horrible agony. And the thrashing of my tits was spraying blood from my split nipples all around where I was so tightly tied.

And my breasts would not be tamed, no matter how hard or how often they hit my nipples, even though my body was running with drying rivulets of my nipple blood as they whipped and whipped and whipped my nipples with the tawses.

"Whip me! Whip me! Whip me! I audibly moaned, my gorgeous brown eyes betraying my rolling orgasm as they whipped and whipped and whipped my poor bleeding nipples.

"Give 'er some straight on ones Mandy, you're the best at those", ordered the girl in charge to one of my caners.

My breasts settled after their constant thrashing with the tawses. And I still moaned begging them to whip me, as the crimson blood from my split nipples flowed beneath the wonderful under-curvature of both my breasts and then trickled down my belly.

Then Mandy's cane whistled in a bent-back-with-the-force-at-which-it-was-flying-horizontally-arc, and I howled and hollered with agony as she whipped both of my nipples hard-on, straight-on, slapping both of my breasts so hard into my chest that my breath was beaten from me………….and I fainted…….

……………………

I awoke under the cold-water hose that was washing the blood off me, and off the tiled walls ceiling and floor. I was being washed of my blood and, coincidentally my nectar, so that I could be taken back into the court.

I had survived my hour of "persuasion". The court would surely now have to accept my plea of only 'guilty'. I could surely not now be found 'very-guilty', even under the new laws for the treatment of naughty girls: or could I?