The Master

The house slave girl buttons my white shirt. Carefully. Very carefully. She stands behind me. Slight, young-----and naked. She does it well. Which is important. For her. Fetching my silk riding britches, she kneels, and eases firts one leg, then the other into them. Very gently, reverendly, she pulls them onto me, sliding them up my calves, thighs, and into my crotch. My cock is already stiff and thick and the material closes round it. Tight. But not so tight as to prevent movement between it and the silk. Just how I like it. Still kneeling, she fastens the waist.

I sit and wait while she fetches my boots. Knee-high. Burnished deep brown leather. Materful. Gently she slides them on.

I'm pleased with her.

She will only get six.

"Fetch the dressage whip," I tell her. She obeys with only the slightest whimper.

Standing again, I feel its slender length. So silken. So cruel. My cock urges against the silk.

"Go to the usual place," I order. Quietly. There is no need for more. She obeys and, widening her legs, as she knows I like, she reaches down to grip her ankles. Her pussy, so lovely, smooth and young, is inviting. But no! Maybe later, when I have attended to the main business.

"You've done well, this morning, so I'm only going to give you six." I smile and tap her tender buttock cheeks.

One-------Two------Three. The strokes come fast. Too fast for her. The pain bursts through the barrier. And she stands. Which is forbidden. Completely forbidden .

"Down!" I hiss. "Down immediately." Sobbing, she obeys. "Legs wider apart! Reach down! Further! Now, my girl! We'll just have to start again! What will we have to do?" I demand.

"S---s--start again, Master," she sobs.

"Would you like to be tied down?" I enquire. "So that there is no danger of getting up. As you know, it means double the number strokes. It's your choice," I smile.

"Yes...." she stammers. "Yes, please Master."

I always enjoy preparing a girl for a tethered whipping. I have an up-to-date whipping horse. The ankles are fastened to runners, so that the victim's legs can move apart or together. The wrists I manacle, and then usually leave unbound. This offers the spicey option of extra strokes if she lets go of the conveniently-placed horizontal rail. A broad strap, pulled tightly, securing her belly to the padded top of the horse completes matters.

I eye her with anticipation and great enjoyment. My cock is transmitting delicious sensations of mastery.

Shall I gag her?

Later perhaps.

With a sigh of pleasure, I command her to bring her ankles together. She obeys. With a sweet whimper. For she knows what this means.

And, she is so right.

Ssssshhhhhhlllliiiiiiiicckkkkk. Across the backs of her knees.

I'm pleased. A perfectly horizontal redening line. And a rewarding shriek.