Candy Among the Christians
Download 13.
Download Title, "Barbara Unleashed"
Elsbeth Strikt, Ph.D.
12:05 AM, Thursday August 2nd, 2001
A New Day For Mrs. Robinson
All of the pleadings of the little brat were in vain. Elizabeth Robinson is
mine now and will be for another three years. Tonight I have gone a long way
toward breaking her and I will shape her to my will. She has already discovered
horror beyond her imagining. I will use that knowledge and develope her fear
into a tool I will tame her with. You can bet that within a month she will be
sweet, modest and demure. A perfect little picture of what every teenage girls
should be.
I looked over at her mother as I chose a four stranded Norcod whip with thongs a
little over two feet long and five knots spaced half an inch apart starting at
the end. She was, as they say, drunk as a skunk. The "boys from DOW" must have
been feeding her the stuff pretty steadily as they fucked every oriface in her
body. Well she will have lots of time to sober up as I whip her ass to ribbons.
I sang to myself as I cleaned the whip off with rubbing alcohol. "Hush little
baby by and by. You know your tushy is going to fry. All your trials luv, just
beginning." Her daughter Barbara looks at me with a somewhat puzzled
explanation on her round face. I explained to her the thirty-nine stroke rule.
You could not give a "girl" more than 39 lashes of the whip on a given day.
Mrs. Anne Robinson had received thirty-nine lashes with the whip to her breasts
and pudendum. But that was yesterday. "Yesterday, all her troubles seemed so
far way. Now today she knows they're here to stay for Wendsday was yesterday."
Yes, it has been Thursday for almost five minutes now. I have saved her ass,
unmarked for the new day which has just started.
Finally we are alone. Mrs. Robinson, Barbara Robinson, and me. All of the
other bozo's are gone at last. The schedule is mine at last. There is no rush,
we have all the time in the world. I hate nothing worse than having to give
pain in a hurry. Pain should be doled our slowly and carefully and with great
feeling.
I wonder why Barbara is here. Doesn't Payne trust me. Do I need to have a
family member here to insure that Mrs. Robinson suffers no more damage than is
mandated. Does he think I cannot get by without an assistant. Having worked
for that man for the better part of a decade I still don't understand him. I
never know what is going on in his head. He is nothing but a backwoods preacher
with barely a high school education. An evangelist from the yellow-dog piney
woods of East Texas. Well I need to get down to business. Still I would like
for once for him to explain what is really going on. Babs and her mothem, what
in the hell.
Ms. Barbara Robinson
12:10 AM, Thursday August 2nd, 2001
Punishment Stories
My mom, me and Dr. Strikt, just the three of us. My mom and Dr. Strikt I
understand. I have heard about the mosaic 39 lashes rule. The other girls in
my class may regard me as a goody goody who has never done wrong and who is
constantly currying favor with the teachers but I know about punishments. I may
have never been punished but I think about punishments a lot. Funny, dad has
never engaged in home punishments the way the other dads at school do. I have
heard the stories the other girls have told, generally by eavesdropping. The
Friday nights when they have had to undress and present their behinds for
punishments. I found these stories exciting. The times when their moms have
had to undress in front of them and get their butts spanked. That image would
always cause me to really get excited. Finally the occassional story, always
whispered, about the trip that so and so paid with her mom on a Friday afternoon
to the Treatment Room. At the point where the mother and daughter stripped and
were tied up, the whisper usually got so soft that I could no longer make out
exactly what happened next. All I could pick up was the occassional giggle.
Late at night, in my mind, I would lie awake and imagine what happened on Friday
afternoons in the Treatment Room. I would fantasize about Elizabeth, mom and I
in the treatment room. With Dr. Strikt.
Late at night I thought about all the tortures I had read about in the stories
of the early Christian marytrs. Impaled on stakes stuck into their vagina or
anus and then slowly burned to death. Or the books about the Reformation where
the poor free thinkers were tortured by the Inquisition in the Low Countries.
Breasts seared by branding irons, pliers tearing off nipples and crushing your
private parts. Or what happened when English women on their way to the New
World were captured by the Spanish. Tied to the mast and whipped and then raped
by a dozen foul smelling men. Or reading about the harsh life of the early
settlers. Girls who did not obey had their naked behinds shredded with
switches. Or captured by wild indians who stripped you and bound you and made
you run for miles through dense forests before they raped you. And how about
the stories the teachers told about Christian missionaries tortured by
rebellious natives in Africa and by Chinese Communists. The teacher's would
only hint at the things that were done but even that was exciting. Enough to
keep me up until late at night as I dreamed and stroked my way into my secret
sins.
But no matter what path my initial fantasies took me, eventually as my inner
parts swelled and my breathing got faster and my heart started racing, and my
hands developed a life of their own, it always boiled down to the same scene.
Me and mom and Dr. Strikt, just the three of us. Alone. Late at night. And
for once my mom naked and powerless.
When I heard Rev. Payne, dad and Dr. Strikt talking about the significance of
midnight I caught on real quick. She had been punished to the limit on
Wendsday. Stripped and beaten. Chained for humiliation as a sex toy. Whipped
until her tits and cunny bled. That was supposed to be it. Everybody else, the
blond lady, Patty, my sister would be allowed to rest and recover on Thursday.
But for my mom, the horror was to continue. Thurs would not be a slack day.
Thursday the torment would continue. And I would have a part in it. My
excitement was such that I feared I couldn't stand it. I would go insane or
faint. Or maybe that shaking and moaning that I have always sought would
finnally come to me with all the vengance I longed for. It was all up to Dr.
Strikt.
Mrs. Anne Robinson
12:15 AM, Thursday August 2nd, 2001
Yesterday
In a dream world. That's where I am. Beaten and fucked then chained and
fucked. Then beaten some more. Everything is a blur. The beer and booze
helped a bit for a while. Then vomiting and passing out. Then waking up to
more pain till I passed out from the torment. Where am I, I don't care. I am
not really sure anymore who I am. All I know is that I am slung over this damn
sawhorse with my ass in the air and my head down at about the level of my knees.
Oh shit. That is my daughter Barbara that I see when I look out between my
spread legs. Then I remember, Dr. Strikt is Satan and I am in Hell. But what
is my daughter doing here. SHE is singing the beatles song "Yesterday". I try
to remember yesterday but my mind won't let me see details. I know there was a
yesterday I just don't know what it was.
Mrs. Candice Butz
12:20 AM, Thursday August 2nd, 2001
Candy Unbound
Out of there. Safe for now. Looks like I am in a condo just to the southwest
of the school. Actually a set of new row houses. The girls are safe. They
waited up until I got home. I put them to bed. They are in a small bedroom
next to mine. Bunk bed, two sets of drawers. Not much else. But they are safe
and have a roof over their heads. We are not on the streets. I am lying on my
belly and Mrs. Brousard is spreading some sort of lotion on my backside. I am so
tired. Son of a bitch. Yes, I saw myself in the mirror. Yes, I really am cut
up all for shit back there. Strips of skin just peeling off. Damn, that stuff
stings. But then it feels so good. What's it called? Aloe re-leaf. Made by
some fundamentalists down in the Valley. Oh God but it feels good! Now roll
over on my back so she can work my front. Yeah they really did whip the shit
out of my tits and pussy. Ohh! that feels good. They make good shit down in
the valley. Oh am I tired. I roll over onto my left side. That is the part
that is cut and bruised the least. Draw my knees up. The girls are safe. I am
so tired. Mrs. Broussard is floating a blanket down over me. At least I have a
job. My girls have a roof over their heads. We are not out on the street. Oh
Alex, I hope you are in heaven. It is so hard here down on earth. I am so
tired. My girls have a roof over their heads. We will not go hungry. I am so
tired. I love you all.
Elsbeth Strikt, Ph.D.
12:25 AM, Thursday August 2nd, 2001
It'll Be A Hard Day's Night
Well, enough lollygagging, time to gain control of the situation. Sizing up
Barbara comes first. I call her over to me to gain her attention. "Young lady,
you are under my direct control now and you are to serve me and the school
without question. Am I clear." She looked me in the eye with the vacant gaze
of an Irish setter and said yes. I continued "Barbara, you have been such a
well behaved girl that you know nothing of disciplinary matters here at school.
You have never been rebellious or headstrong. You have never slacked in you
studies or stinted in your athletic efforts. You have never been immodest with
young men or displayed yourself to them lewdly." In short, you are about as
naive as can be." She smiled and nodded at me. She really didn't understand
where I was going so I tried to further explain, "Furthermore, you father has
not exerted a firm disciplinary hand at home. This has had little effect on you
although it has had disasterous effects on your mother and sister. But this
family environment has left you woefully ignorant of disciplinary matters." She
once again nodded and smiled indicating a happy ignorance. "Well," I said,
"your ignorance in these matters of disciplinary chastisment is about to come to
an abrupt end. You are going to assist me in the next stage of your mother's
penance for her grievious transgressions. You will probably be shocked by what
is about to happen." She gave a twisted smile and nodded. Finally I said "I
need to prepare you for what is about to come." Her face flushed as though she
knew what was to come. "You have never had the opportunity to learn what
chastisement is all about, what it feels like to be chastised, what it means to
administer discipline. Are you ready?" Barbara's face broke out into a grin
that I can only describe as beatific. I would have been less startled and would
have felt more at ease if she was struck with horror and sorrow. I was not
exactly prepared for joy.
She looked at me and said "Will you make me undress?" I nodded. "Must I
undress completely, until I am naked?" she said. I replied, "you may leave your
shoes and stockings on, and the bow in you hair so that it doesn't fly around."
Her smile broadened and she said "Are you going to beat me?" to which I replied
"I am going to teach you what chastisement of the body entails." Now she was
positively elated. Her body twitched and twisted with excitement like a five
year old at Christmas as she said "Will you tie me down and whip me, pinch my
pussy lips till they bleed, rip the nipples from my titties, oh will you have me
impaled on a stake till my womb is pierced by the sharp spike that splits my
vagina open." I stared at her in unbelief, shocked and appalled. She was
totally losing control of herself. She was becoming estatic. "No, my child. I
am only going to spank your bottom. Where did you get such ideas!"
She rapidly began to disrobe. First off came the tie she was so fond of
wearing. It made her look less silly with her oxford cloth blouse buttoned up
to the top button. In four years as a teacher at 2nd Evangelical, I don't think
I had ever seen the sternal ends of her collar bones. Gaily casting aside her
striped tie she unbottoned the sleeves of her blouse and then started rapidly
undoing the buttons down the front of the white blouse. "Not so fast and
furiously, I told her. Pick up that tie and place it on the back of the chair.
I won't have clothing carelessly shed around here." She complied. "Now," I
said "first remove the skirt and fold it across the back of the chair". She
caught onto what I was saying. I had heard that Barbara was extreme in her
modesty. The girls told me that she almost undressed in her locker while
getting ready for gym or sports and they never saw her shower. Her skirts were
long even by the standards of 2nd Evangelical and I had on more than one
occassion seen the flash of a frilled cotton white petticoat rather than a shiny
half slip of synthetic fabric. Sure enough. When the long blue skirt came off
it revealed a cotton petticoat. "OK," I instructed her, "now remove your blouse
and hang it on the chair back." This part of her disrobing revealed that she
was wearing a bandeau rather than a bra. This flattened her breasts concealing
the amplitude of her busoms. An interesting creature. When she had finished
hanging her blouse I told her to remove her petticoat and fold it across the
metal "card" chair. At least she was accepting her instructions to disrobe in
good order. There are always those girls who when it comes times to strip prior
to punishment, struggle and sometimes require the assistance of several teachers
to expose them for disciplining. I intensely dislike such scenes.
As she lowered her petticoat and stepped out of it, Barbara revealed her
greatest surprise to date. She was wearing an old fashioned girdle! One with
garters. I had not seen one of these in the better part of thirty-five years.
White, elastic with stays and dangling garter straps. I wonder where she got
that from. My startled response was quickly picked up on by the girl. "Oh
this", she remarked, "it flattens my tushy and keeps it from bounding around."
I couldin't help asking "where on earth did you buy it?" Non-plussed she
replied "From the Sear's catalogue of course. Mommy was never home. I just
copied down her Sear's card number and called it in. You can get anything from
them. No questions asked." I changed the subject to "Well, lets get those
foundation garments off and placed on the seat of the chair". The bandeau was a
more substantial affair than I expected. Rather than just being slipped up over
her head it had a whole series of hook and eye fasteners in the back that had to
be unhooked. This revealed that rather than the A cup we had also viewed
Barbara as, she had rather a generous C cup endowment. Beautiful breasts with
absolutely no sag. In my youth I would have killed for such breasts. And
almost did. It took her even longer to unfaster her garter hardware and wiggle
out of her very tight girdle. Her butt seemed to exand at least three or maybe
four inches! At seeing me stare she turned a beet head flushing not only her
face but her neck and even her chest above those magnificent breasts. As
expected, Barbara had a quite modest set of white cotton panties. She caught
the nod of my head and took it to indicate that the panties were to be removed
and place on the seat of the chair joining the bandeau and girdle.
Disrobing down to her shoes and stocking revealed further surprises about
Barbara Robinson. Not only did she have satisfyingly large breasts and a
voluptuous bottom but her "snatch" had been depiliated and her buttocks had
faint bruises on them. The hairless pelvic area I could understand. A goodly
number of the girls shaved their pubes although most of the shavers were either
the socialites who enjoyed showing their wares in string bikinis or the "butch"
athletic set who thrust out their hairless pudenda while strutting naked around
the locker room. But Barbara belong to neither set. In fact she belonged to no
set but her own. Noting my puzzled expression she volunteered "with all the
heavy undergarments I wear, I prefer to be as clean as I can." I further
probed, "How about the bruised behind, I know that your father has never spanked
either you, your sister or your mother. No matter how much they deserved it.
And I know that none of your teachers has ever laid even a hand on your butt.
Where did the bruises come from." Barbara blushed again, "Every few days,
before my bath, I try to spank myself, on my behind, with the heaviest belt I
own. I have a cowboy belt for the Livestock Show and Rodeo. But it doesn't
work too well. It is hard to spank yourself. I have read so much about how
brave so many Christian girls are under torment and torture and I wanted to
prepare myself as well as I could. That way, if I was ever put to the test, I
would hold up well and so inspire my toturers to become Christians." Well, I
hadn't seen many ones like this before. I wonder what this girl's fantasy life
is like. Perhaps I would find out later. Right now business had to be attended
to. I would show this girl what a proper hind-end warming was like and then we
would begin to start striping her mother's behind. I told Barbara to go and
fetch the heavy strap from the card table upon which rested this evening's
collection of implements of discipline.
Ms. Barbara Robinson
12:30 AM, Thursday August 2nd, 2001
Love Story
I couldn't believe it. My fantasy come true. Dr. Strikt, who I have loved in
burning silence for almost three years, loves me. She is going to subject me to
chastisement and then we, together, will punish my mother for all of the wicked
sins she has comitted. At first, when Dr. Strikt started talking about my lack
of disciplianry experience, I had a hard time figuring out where she was going.
Eventually, she got around to it. She was going to give me disciplinary
experience and then I was going to help her. My heart almost stopped, then it
began to race. I flushed over all my body. And my private parts began to sweat
in a way I have never known. It was all that I could do to keep my hands off of
them. I wanted to die and I wanted to sing. I was in love!
When she told me strip my fingers couldn't move fast enough. But she made me
slow down, carefully remove my garments and fold them on a nearby chair. Her
eyes ravished every inch of my body as it was exposed. She made me go slowly so
that the pleasure of stripping me was prolonged and intensified. When I removed
my breast flattener and my nipples hit the air, they immediately became erect,
such was my excitement. After I took off my girdle I swung my ass from side to
side to feel it wiggle and I watched Dr. Strikt's pupils widen. As I walked
over to get the strap is swung my body around to feel my ass and tits bounce and
I gloried in my freedom. When she said she was only going to give me a taste of
the strap I fell on my knees in front of her, grasped her around the thighs, and
pressed my sobbing face into her stomach. "Please," I cried "do not leave me
unfullfilled. I love you, I love you despirately, I have loved you for years.
Do not leave me empty. Do it to me with your full heart. Spank my behind until
it glows red and your hand can take no more. I will stand still, holding my
ankles for you. I will not flinch. Please do not spare me. Strap until my butt
is purple. Then bend me over the chair and please, please use the switch on me.
Cane me until the skin is stripped off. I will only cry with joy and scream
with please. But, oh, please don't neglect me. Love me. Flog me." Dr. Strikt
was stunned and turned ashen pale. But eventually she recovered her composure
and realize that I had not lost my mind but was serious.
She assented. She sat down on another chair and bade me lie across her lap from
right side to left. Then she took her right hand and began to alternately slap
the globes of my buttocks. It was then that I experienced my first orgasm. I
had heard other girls talk about "cuming" and "orgasm" and "earth shakers" and
"climax" but never knew what they meant. At night I had fondled my genitals
while dream of Dr. Strikt and the torments she would heap upon me and the
torture the two of us would inflict on mother. But the pleasure I got from
those midnight fumblings was nothing compared with the vibratory sensation
coming from my privates and spreading throughout my body. I felt a clenching of
muscles inside my pelvis that my autoerotic manipulations never before
triggered. I was actually shaking and then broke out in a sweat. I shook so
much that I think I actually scared Dr. Strikt for a minute. She stopped
spanking me with her hand and asked if I was OK. I said, please, please spank
me some more. She did, but it was not long enough or hard enough. I wanted
more.
Elsbeth Strikt, Ph.D.
12:45 AM, Thursday August 2nd, 2001
Orgasm and Beyond
I think I have some sort of a wierd masochist on my hands. I have seen quite a
few female orgasms in my days. Women are much harder to judge than men. They
don't just tense, thrust and ejaculate. And then go to sleep. There is an
enormous variability in the female orgasm and I fancy I have seen them all. You
see, you have to look for a woman's orgasm. You have to get inside her mind and
figure out what really turns her on. And do it, and ride it, and prolong it.
But I had never actually seen another one like Barbara's when I spanked her.
Whew!
As she lay, somewhat spent, across my lap, I realized that I had something very
unusual here, something rare, something precious, something that would have to
be developed carefully. I would have to muster all my talents, knowledge and
sensitivity and pour them into this seventeen year-old child/wanton. I could
spend a decade exploring her and enlarging her talents. A lifetime.
But I gave her a final rousing slap and lifted her up out of my lap. "Come," I
said to her, "You must learn to give chastisement and then perhaps you can
receive some more. And very sensitively give and very carefully receive." Her
mother awaited. I was going to take a chance. I quickly stripped to my shoes
and stocking, revealing my flat and scarred chest. I would be frank and honest
with my young Barbara. I said, "Together we will give your mother what she
deserves." I suspect those words shocked her but soon a bright fire gleamed in
Barbara's eyes. I got out another Norcod 4/26/5 whip, gave it to the girl and
took her over to Mrs. Robinson's side. "Watch what I say and do, I will
instruct you in the fine art of whipping ass that is bent over the horse. They
are many subtle points ot be learned. But a proper ass whipping may be the
single most devestating thing you can do to a woman. You can destroy her or
drive her insane. You can render her unconscious in a short order. Or you can
bring her extemes of pain just to the edge of unbearability. And stop. And
then again to the greatest exteme. And stop. And once again to the edge. And
stop. This we will attempt to do to your mother. Are you up to it." Barbara
nodded assent.
Ms. Barbara Robinson
1:00 AM, Thursday August 2nd, 2001
Whipping My Mother
We were going to whip my mother. We were really going to whip my mother. We
were. All my life I have waited for this. It was actually going to happen.
She was spread out over the sturdiest sawhorse I have ever seen. It was made
from heavier lumber than the ones I have seen construction workers around the
house use. And it had braces around the bottom. And of course the ones that
the mexican workers used didn't have ropes and straps to tie you down with. And
mom was not just stood over this horse the way you lean over a chair. Her ass
was actually the highest point. The front of her hips and not just her stomach
was atop the cross piece. She was fastened to the legs at both the ankles and
the knees so that her thighs were almost parallel to the cross piece. Her
wrists were bound way down on the legs so that her upper body and head dangled
down. The position must have been unbelievably uncomfortable with her ass in
the air and her head down and her legs spread and her pussy waving out there in
the breeze. I chuckled to myself. As we walked up to her with our whips in our
hands, Dr. Strikt and I, I giggled like a little girl. I looked at Dr. Strikt
and I just busted out the biggest grin of my life. I was in heaven.
I may have been euphoric but Dr. Strikt was deadly serious. "Properly whipping
a woman's ass is one of the most difficult things you can ever do. It does not
require much strength but it does require great contol, and surprising
sensistivity. It is not simply the stripping of epidermis from dermis and
lacerating the dermis until blood flows. Although these things can happen in a
severe whipping. And this will be a severe whipping. It is gaining the
attention of the woman to be chastised, directing her attention and focusing her
mind. For when one woman whips another woman it is the sublime sexual act that
makes heterosexual intercourse look like the primitive grinding of organs that
it is. This is particuarly true in the case of your mother. Her sexual
apparatus has been pushed into overload this evening by the melange of men who
have penetrated her beyond even her comprehension. For she is not a whore, she
is a slut. And like a slut she will be punished. In whipping her, we will not
only torment the skin of her buttocks and thighs, we will also torture the skin
of her pussy. When we are done any touch to the most sensitive parts of her
body will bring only pain for at least a month to come. And if the Rev. Payne
has his way, and he usually does, your mother's bottom with be the site of
unspeakable pain for months to come. Consider just how serious this is."
At this point Dr. Strikt did something that shocked me. She got down on her
knees and slid between my mother's splayed legs until her face was litterally in
my mothers crotch. Dr. Strikt began to kiss and lick the raw skin of my
mother's labia and suckle and tongue her battered clitoris. At first my mother
remained as semiconcious as she had been for the last hour. Then she began to
move her hips around and finally began to moan. She was obviously being turned
on by the first fairly gentle genital stimulation she had received all night.
Then I noticed that Dr. Strikt was also stroking, slowly and lightly, my
mother's welted breasts, starting at the edges and working in towards her
lacerated nipples. Dr Strikt was arousing my mother. I had always heard talk
about women going down on women and I know that some of the girls at 2nd
Evangelical swung that way. And not just the ones on the field hockey team.
Some girls went only with girls and others, including a few homecoming queen
types, were known to swing both ways. There always been rumors about Dr.
Strikt. About her and teachers. About her and students. About her and
mothers. But I never really believed any of those rumors because I adored Dr.
Strikt. Now I saw her sexually toying with my own mother. And I found the
sight exciting.
Then swiftly it happened. Just as my mother's movement started to become active
and she really began to get into it, Dr. Strikt got out from under her and took
a stance by mom's left side. Back came the whip wielding right arm and down it
shrilly whistled. The sound of plastic coated multi-stranded copper wire
hitting flesh was suprising muted. I expected a loud crack but the sound was
more like a flat THRIPPP. And a shattering scream. The knotted ends of the
lampcord struck just beyond the far right cheek of my mother's buttock and
whipped around striking the flank of her butt. The unknotted portions of the
whip struck directly on both cheeks of her ass. As Dr. Strikt withdrew the whip
you could see four red strips clean across mom's ass and 20 red spots on the
side of her hip. At first you didn't get much of a chance to think about it
because the scream that issued from my mother's mouth was so blood curdling that
it erased every thought from your brain. I just stood there and watched as the
middle portion of my mom's body slammed up and down against the crossbar and her
head bobbed up and down. After mom's thrashing and screaming abated a bit, Dr.
Strikt hit her again, just as far across but a little lower on the buttock and
hip. This blow came as less of a surprise but mom still put on a pretty good
show. The third stroke surprised me, not in its timing but in its placement.
Dr. Strikt aimed it so that the knotted ends of the lampcords landed and curled
directly onto my mother's vulvar region. On to those pussy lips that had early
been beated with a whip and then pounded by multiple rapes and finally caressed
by Dr. Strikt's lips. My mom literally went crazy. The rest of the whip
strands made marvelous marks across the skin that formed the juncture between
the globes of mom's buttocks and her hips but it was the crotch shot by those
cruel knotted ends that did the job. My mom bellowed and screamed, cried and
moaned for at least five minutes. I have to admit that I was dumfounded.
Slowly, my own arousal crept though the mental haze of screaming and thrashing.
Before I realized it, I found myself transferring my whip from my right hand to
my left and using my right index and middle finger to frig my slit. Then Dr.
Strikt, ignoring my masturbation, told me to stand on mom's right and apply the
same strokes, two across and one to the crack, except from the opposite side.
Having just been caught fingering myself I was highly embarrassed although the
concept that my arousal was due to the torture of my mother escaped me at the
time. Suddenly, holding the whip in my right hand I felt enormously clumsy. I
stared at the welts developing on mom's buttocks and realized that I would have
to wield the whip backhanded. As I fidgeted there trying to adjust my footing I
noticed that the places where the knotted ends of the cords swung around caused
hideous welts four times as big as the welts from the smooth portions of the
cords. And those welts weren't red, they were rapidly turning purple. Nasty.
And since there were five knots in each cord and four cords, there were about
twenty bruises forming where each blow of the whip had struck, already almost
two score on the hip on my side. This was going to be a devastating whipping.
Dr. Strikt saw my discomfort and reassuringly coached me. "Take it smooth and
easy Barbara. Turn your body to the left. Gently swing your right arm over
your left shoulder. When I say so swing your body and your arm over to the
right. Now!" The whip whistled out through the air and struck skin with a
thripp-thunk. My mom howled but not as wildly as when Dr. Strikt hit her. I
hit a good deal higher up with my first blow than Dr. Strikt did. The ends of
my whip hit halfway across the back at the waist. "Very good" soothed Dr.
Strikt. "Remember that exact placement takes time to develop". Reassured I
wound up again and delivered a second blow, this one a bit more forceful. Mom
gave a bigger howl with this one which landed straight across the buttocks. Dr.
Strikt advised that I should not try for a pussy shot at this stage in my
training. So the next one I just delivered low across the buttocks. Again I
elicited I moderate howl from my mom.
Dr. Strikt suggested that we now change sides. Now she proceeded to whip my mom
from the right side. I had to admire how smoothly and accurately she did it. I
was also awestruck at the damage the whip was doing to mom's butt and thighs.
The spots where the knots at the end of the strands of the whip hit were now
purple and sort of blistered. And when these spots got hit again, either with
the smooth part of the cord or with a knot the swollen skin was torn and bled.
I never imagined that such a thing could happen. And I suspect that neither did
my mother since she screamed like a wild animal in pain every time Dr. Strikt
struck her. After three blows from the right side by Dr. Strikt mom's butt was
oozing blood from a dozen spots. And the third stroke from the right featured
the tips of the whip cords hitting the vulvular area again. This caused mom to
scream so hard she became hoarse. Now it was my turn. Now that I was striking
forward with my whip, rather than backhanded across my body I could really lay
my whip into mom. Her thighs were relatively unmarked and so I concentrated my
effort there. I hit her twice across the middle part of both thighs and for my
third and last strike I aimed for the inner aspect of her left thigh. I got the
end of the whip to curl right into the inside, striking one of the most
sensitive spots on the whole body. I was elated and mom fainted! I felt a rush
and a thrill like I had never experienced before. I was finally having my
revenge for all those years of being ignored. All those years of being the ugly
duckling. All those years of being the middle sister who never got credit for
doing anything right. All those of always being wrong. Well this ugly duckling
has become a swan. And a swan is a mean bird that can inflict a lot of damage.
There you go girl, you knocked her right into tomorrow.
Elsbeth Strikt, Ph.D.
1:25 AM, Thursday August 2nd, 2001
Bloodlust
I had never seen anyone like Barbara. I have probably conducted over the years
a thousand or so schoolgirl chastisements and possibly a hundred mothers have
been punished under my hand. Most of the girls were trembling at the prospect
of being disciplined by me. A few affected arrogance in the face of what was
coming. That of course quickly changed after the first few strokes, as first
the tears came, next the gasping, then the full fledged crying and in the end
screams, howls and wailing. A small number of girls took it stoically,
accepting the inevitable and being beaten like dumb beats of burden. Bravado
was more common among the mothers. The attitude of "I'm a grown woman, who's
afraid of a little spanking". It was fun to break their hauteur, reducing them
to sniffling, crying little girls pleading for mercy. There were a vanishingly
small number of girls and only a few mothers in which I detected a suggestion of
true sexual arousal under chastisement. I have seen less than a dozen mothers
climax while undergoing severe punishment. I am fond of manipulating a woman's
sensitive parts prior to applying a disciplinary implement. However, sexual
excitement usually melts when the real pain starts. I can't say that I
encountered many females who looked forward to a session with me in the
treatment room. Barbara was the first.
My experiences were similar on the opposite end of a caning. Most ladies, when
confronted with the necessity of administering disciple approached it with a bit
of reluctance. Particularly when they realized that the alternative was more
severe chastisement for themselves. Patty is your average example. Competent
with a belt or switch but not enthusiastic. She certainly doesn't enjoy it like
me. Barbara is different. For me, there is nothing like the sight and sound of
a riding crop striking a swollen nipple or a switch hitting an engorged
clitoris. I like nothing more than whipping someone's butt and thighs until the
outermost skin peels off the purple bruises. My nipples tense, my genitals
become turgid and my pussy juices run when a girl screams for mercy. I love
nothing more than sitting next to a woman I have just beaten the consciousness
out of and frigging myself to orgasm. Barbara came very close to orgasm when
whipping her mother. And she was obviously looking forward to it. She did it
with lust. As the whip made contact with bruised and blistered areas drawing
blood, she was panting. And not with the exertion. She loves administering a
whipping. I had to strop her when the twelfth stroke of the session was
administered and literally peel her off her mother or I think Barbara would have
whipped her mother to death. I have something rare in that girl. She has the
combination of the erotic and the sado-masochistic that I find irresistible.
After the 1 AM whipping was over. I guided the wild-eyed Barbara over to a
chair and sat her down. I explained that I was going to teach her how to bring
a woman to the fulfillment of her sexual potential. I knelt down between her
knees and began to lightly lick her already erect nipples. As the stimulated
teats became even more swollen I began to suck them while starting to massage
her breasts. She exploded into an ecstasy of moans, whimpers and panting while
squeezing me with her legs. I progressive squeezed her breasts harder and
harder as my teeth bit into her nipples. Barbara began to scream and her body
went totally tense. After she finished her climax I moved my attentions to her
nether regions. First I applied my tongue to her clitoris and its hood. Then I
licked her inner labia. Finally I began flicking my tongue in and out of her
vaginal orifice. I will have to have a serious talk with this girl about the
state of her hygiene. At the time I was surprised to find that her hymen was
intact although now that I think of it her use of an external pad rather than a
tampon is consistent with her reactionary character. As her genital tissues
became engorged, I worked more with my lips and teeth. I brought her to her
second orgasm in under ten minutes by nibbling on her clitoris at an extremely
rapid rate. She slumped back exhausted in her chair rubbing my head and softly
saying, "I love you Dr. Strikt" over and over again.
Elsbeth Strikt, Ph.D.
1:45 AM, Thursday August 2nd, 2001
Boob Job
I explained to Barbara that now it was her turn to pleasure me. She started to
kiss my nipples but was puzzled by my lack of breast tissue and the scars all
over my chest. Since it appeared that we were to become true lovers, I decided
to tell her the story. Twenty-five years ago I was a graduate student in New
York. At that time I still did not understand the nature of my sexuality and I
was very uncertain of my body and its responses. I wanted to be a girl that
young men lusted after and would give anything to possess. But the only man who
expressed any interest in me was a resident in surgery at Cornell Downstate
named Dr. Shinezall. In particular I was ashamed of the small, A cup sized
breasts on my skinny body. I thought that if my boobs were bigger I could make
a slave of any man I wanted to. Well the long and the short of it was that in
exchange for free use of my body, however and whenever he wanted it, Dr.
Shinezall would fix my breasts. Now this was before the days of breast implants
but he had read about some early efforts at breast enlargement out in California
by injection of silicone. So he got some medical grade silicone OMDS monomer,
mixed in so acetic acid and benzoyl peroxide and injected it in. I went from an
A cup to a B cup and Dr. Shinezall fucked me, buggered me and deep throated me
to his heart's content. And I remained as unattractive to other men as a B cup
as I had been as an A cup. Then the trouble started. My breasts became hard,
hot and red. Lumps developed all throughout them and I started running a
temperature and getting night sweats. As I became sicker, her became more
worried. Finally be began to talk to some people that knew more about materials
science than he did. My body was reacting to the silicone he injected. He told
me not to worry. He said that my body would wall the silicone off and that the
only problem would be that my newly enlarged breasts would be stiff and lumpy.
Besides, he said, my breasts had now swollen even larger. They were about C up
size although they were so painful that I couldn't wear a bra. Shinezall
laughed and said that my big red breasts were sexy. He said that I might have a
little bit of an infection and gave me some antibiotics.
I got progressively sicker, running high fevers and loosing weight. Finally I
went to see a real doctor who put me into the hospital and ran a bunch of tests
on me including a breast biopsy. The report that came back from the pathologist
said I had granulomatous panniculitis. Apparently when the silicone was
injected into the fatty tissue in the back of the breast, my body thought that
the silicone was microorganisms that cause tuberculosis and started attackjng
the silicone. I had something that was as nasty as tuberculosis of the breast.
But you can't kill silicone with antibiotics. Every bit of it had to come out.
It took three episodes of hospitalization and six operations over five years to
get it out. I sued the hospital where Dr. Shinezall was doing his residency but
got only enough to barely cover the cost of my medical care. He got kicked out
of his surgery residency and did a residency in Dermatology. I lost what little
boob I had and ended up with a mess of scars on my chest.
Barbara had been listening intently and was profoundly moved by my story. As I
finished she began to weep and gently kissed my nipples. I held her head to my
chest and I began to cry, our mutual tears running down between the two of us.
Then I kissed her and she responded. We clenched each other, lips locked for
what seemed an eternity until Barbara broke away and said "Let me pleasure you
to wipe away the pain of memory". Then she went down between my legs. I have
never had cunnilingus like that. So gentle, so tender, so loving. She brought
me to my climax so slowly, building the stimulation and manipulation with
sensitivity you just don't expect from a 17 year old virgin. I can love this
girl for the rest of my life.
Mrs. Anne Robinson
2:00 AM, Thursday August 2nd, 2001
A Mother's Nightmare
As I began to recover consciousness, I raised my head and looked at the clock on
the wall. It took quite a while for my eyes to focus but eventually I began to
understand that it was probably two o'clock. Then I had to figure out, was it
AM or PM. Finally I decided that it was probably 2 AM, probably Thursday. OK.
Now, where am I. White walls, white ceiling, white tile floor. OK, I've been
here before. This is the fucking Treatment Room and I am draped over that
fucking whipping horse. My head is throbbing because I have been in a head down
position for what must be at least two hours. And I had a lot to drink last
night. There are a lot of gaps there but I think that somebody poured several
cans of beer down me. And a bottle of Scotch or two. Oh, what a God-damned
headache. I adjusted my hips which were atop the crosspiece of the horse and
that triggered the pain. Oh SHIT, it feels like my insides have been ripped
out, rearranged, and not too carefully stuffed back in. As I attempt to focus I
can begin to differentiate pain from my asshole from pain in my vagina. My cunt
lips also hurt. And my ass is also on fire. Though the throbbing pain of an
emerging hangover I recall I got fucked last night. And Fucked. And FUCKED! I
can't remember how many guys at least a dozen or so. And those big-dicked
Haitians. Up the ass. OH SHIT. I move my head around to survey the room. Oh I
shouldn't do that, it hurts too much. But I hear my daughter Babs and another
female voice. OH FUCK There is my daughter making out with, OH SHIT, she is
making out with that horrible Dr. Strikt. Babs is gammahuching the dark lady.
They are cuddling together. Now I remember the whipping. The incredible
ripping of the skin off my back. What the fuck is coming off here. I hang my
head and the darkness returns.
Ms. Barbara Robinson
2:30 AM, Thursday August 2nd, 2001
Finis
I lay there in her arms for what seemed like an eternity. I was happy for the
first time in my life. Dr. Strikt was for me what my mother never was, someone
who loved me and understood my needs. I yawned. I looked lovingly at Dr.
Strikt and she beamed back at me. Then I got off my chest what was bothering me
"Dr. Strikt, I think we need to get back to work on my mother, we still have a
lot of whipping to do." Dr. Strikt got up and went over to my mom, fastened
over the whipping horse. She raised up mom's head by the hair and stared at out
of focus eyes that didn't stare back. Dr. Strikt passes her free hand back and
forth in front of mom's face. My mother's eyes didn't follow Dr. Strikt's hand.
"Honey, this here bitch is just whipped to a frazzle" remarked Dr. Strikt. It
was funny to hear a Southern drawl overlaid on a nasal New York twang. She
continued "We have beaten her about as much as is useful, any more strokes and
we are just shredding skin on an ass that just isn't feeling it. Why don't we
let her recover. After a couple of days she will be in a condition where we can
whip her again. I think that your daddy is going to leave her in our loving
hands for a long time."
Dr. Strikt and I got dressed. However, Dr. Strikt took my bandeau and girdle
and threw them in the trash. "I like you natural" she said. Then we went over
and dealt with my mom. Dr. Strikt gave my mother the shot that Dr. Shinezall
had left for her. Apparently a mix of antibiotics, sedatives and stimulants
that was banned by the FDA, the AMA, the Texas Medical Association and the Dept.
of Agriculture. I helped Dr. Strikt unstrap mom from the horse and we got her
into her skirt, blouse and jacket. With a sneer Dr. Strikt disposed of mom's
panties and bustier. "I don't think she will be needing these for a while", she
remarked. "I have a lot to teaching you about chastisements but I think you
will be the finest pupil I have ever had". I smiled and hugged her. "But never
forget how strict I am. You may have to undergo a lot of disciplinary
training." I beamed and hugged her again.
With one of us under each arm we walked mom through the maze of rooms and over
to the elevator. I enquired as to what we were going to do with her. Dr.
Strikt indicated that we would put her in the condo's that had just been
renovated into dormitory rooms. Apparently this was part of the property
transfer done just before Genron crashed. She also had rooms over there and I
could stay with her for the next few days.
It was looking like the beginning of a wonderful friendship.
