A Tenuous Tenant

"It doesn't seem like you, dear." Mrs. Von Bierbauer smiled at Orelle, who stared shamefacedly at the floor.

"I-I'm so sorry, Mrs. Von Bierbauer, that you found that on your computer. My Ipad is out of whack right now. I don't think it will cause a virus or anything.

Mrs. Von Bierbauer cocked her head and looked at Orelle closely. All that gorgeous thick hair.

So curly and copper-ish, and what full breasts, they turn that snug basketball jersey into a symphony.

No, wait, it's lacrosse. Orelle is on the Lacrosse team at Buttermilk State.

Once, Mrs. Von Bierbauer had boarded a tenant who was a wrestling coach. But he'd begged Mrs. Von Bierbauer to put him in diapers and nail polish...what a strange creature.

Most of Mrs. Von Bierbauer's boarders were fairly normal people, but now and then a submissive gem shone, and Mrs. Von Bierbauer quickly took advantage of it.

Mrs. Von Bierbauer smiled, and tried to look naive as she pointed at the computer pictures she'd printed out. Some she recognized from 1960s shots at the Dominant Domain dungeon in Manhattan.

"These young women look like they are really going through the wringer in these pictures, Orelle." Mrs. Von Bierbauer ventured.

Mrs. Von Bierbauer, at sixty, was trim and attractive enough, but she dressed fairly conservatively, and didn't color her silver hair.

Of course Orelle was mortified that this motherly creature had seen her computer stuff, her shame.

Orelle believed, as did most Millenials, that life had begun around the time of her birth, and no one before like, 1999 would have any idea about bondage and discipline.

If people had had sex at all, she thought, it was probably in the missionary position back then, and while they were doing the rosary or something.

Orelle was twenty-two, and was a fairly seasoned female submissive, but she had not met many older kinksters.

Curiously Mrs. Von Bierbauer, at the same time was wondering if it had been Orelle s he'd seen in the play room at the Paincafe, enduring spread labia clamp training.

Orelle had been wearing one of those open mouth leather hoods that fit snugly around the head, so it would have been impossible to completely identify her.

But there was this familiar belly tattoo...

The mystery girl, hooded and with armbinders holding her back had jutted out her stomach displaying cartoon rabbit, a fairly rare one from the Looney Tunes days, was also just under Orelle's navel.

And that mystery girl had been so enticing, Mrs. Von Bierbauer reflected. Her long pink nipples had been entrapped in Japanese clamps, so tight.

It made the older woman slightly damp in the panties, remembering it.

The bondage hood had been a blindfold as well, so of course if it had been Orelle getting this treatment, she wouldn't have seen Mrs. Von Bierbauer, who had been standing quite close.

All this reminded Mrs. Von Bierbauer of her last live-in submissive, Shonagh.

It had been some time since Shonagh had moved out. Mrs. Von Bierbauer remembered using her tawse on Shonagh's ass one last time after the wet girl had gotten out of the shower.

It always seemed to hurt more, but was a ritual between the women...

And, they'd cried together when Shonagh left. They'd had four glorious years together, but finally Shonagh had gotten a job transfer, one she'd dreamed of, and had to leave Buttermilk Falls for a post in Luxembourg.

Shonagh had begged Mrs. Von Bierbauer to accompany her, to sell her boarding house, but Mrs. Von Bierbauer had demurred.

She'd lived in this sleepy little town all her life, and her people before her.

And always a kinkster!

Mrs. Von Bierbauer had been a bus girl at the Paincafe's breakfast bar in 1981!

Mrs. Von Bierbauer smiled now pleasantly at Orelle, who was blushing rather hotly.

"Orelle, it's not t hat important, dear. I have lots of firewall protection on my system, as I myself am not immune to the appeal of risky sites, some a bit sadistic, even at my advanced age."

Mrs. Von Bierbauer was trying to be a bit sarcastic, but of course Orelle took it terribly seriously. Orelle probably thought Mrs. Von Bierbauer was about a century old...

"R-really?" Orelle nodded at the steel whipping rod that poked out of Mrs. Von Bierbauer's umbrella stand. "You are into this?"

Mrs. Von Bierbauer smiled and she pointed to the mantel where her grandfather's braided and plaited snakewhip still hung.

"Not just for ornamental purposes, my child."

Orelle shifted from one foot to the other, and Mrs. Von Bierbauer watched her tenant's shapely thighs in the faded jeans. Ooooh, how I want to thrash her...

But, this is not the time to say anything.

Much less work to let the sub talk herself into this.

"Well, it's been a long time, Mrs. Von Bierbauer, since I met someone who could give me-"

"I believe you were getting some Wednesday night, weren't you, Orelle?" At the Paincafe's Impact Play Annual Gala?"

Mrs. Von Bierbauer smiled as Orelle started violently.

"The leather hood was quite comely, dear, though it mystifies me how you got all your pile of pretty curls in it without any lumps."

"Uh, I used some hair oil, I borrowed it from your-"

"Ah, my late husband's pomade, eh?"

Orelle nodded, foolishly thinking they were bonding.

"Well, you're quite a presumptuous young lady, aren't you?" Mrs. Von Bierbauer clicked her teeth and gave the younger woman an Evil Eye.

Back at Wyrmwood Prep, Mrs. Von Bierbauer had been known amongst her school friends as one who could raise one eyebrow and not the other, and her looks could be rather savage.

"What do you mean, ma'am?"

"Well, you try to infect my software with your perverse filth, and now you are stealing my late husband's scalp grease?"

Orelle's lovely hazel eyes grew bigger, and only calmed a bit as Mrs. Von Bierbauer winked slightly.

"Why don't you hand me the steel whippy cane, yes, you saw it in the umbrella stand."

Orelle's lower lip trembled. Her knees shook.

Had Mrs. Von Bierbauer misjudged this situation?

Mrs. Von Bierbauer didn't want to scare this girl, a paying tenant, off, or give her an experience she didn't want-

But Orelle took the steel rod out of the umbrella stand, and bent it in her trembling hands, reflexively, before handing it to Mrs. Von Bierbauer.

"D-do you want me to take down my-"

There was nothing Mrs. Von Bierbauer would have liked more, but she believed in a bit of surprise.

"No, for little girls with sticky fingers, those who borrow without asking..."

Mrs. Von Bierbauer watched with some satisfaction as Orelle's face grew scarlet.

"I think a little palm discipline will be enough this time. Stick out your right hand."

As the steel, razor thin whip came down hard on Orelle's hand, the girl felt an intense pain.

Oh, Jesus fuck, this is possibly worse than an ass-beating. Orelle had never been caned on the palms, not even with a nun's ruler.

She had been adored by her permissive parents, and had attended a "progressive" school.

The second whack caused Orelle to pull her hand back and she put it to her mouth.

"When we had our hands caned in prep school, we put them under our arms to soothe." Mrs. Von Bierbauer said, reminiscing.

"Is it too much, Orelle, dear?"

"Oh, no, ma'am, I don't use safe words. I trust you and I understand and need punishment, but my palms-"

"Well, you have a choice then. Six on each palm or twenty on your derriere."

Orelle immediately began undoing her jeans and then pulled her panties down as well.

Mrs. Von Bierbauer, viewing Orelle's bubble butt, pretty in pink as she bent across the writing desk...

Glorious. I almost want to kiss the cheeks instead of thrashing them, but of course that can wait until another time.

Orelle looked so vulnerable, her buttocks out in a corner of Mrs. Von Bierbauer's parlor.

"My goodness, a naughty girl seems quite wet." Orelle felt Mrs. Von Bierbauer's fingers toying with the tuft of hair peeking out of her back end.

"I don't know if you have ever experienced the steel whip before, dear, but it may not quite be a respite from the hand paddling."

She calls what she did to my hand "paddlng?" More like volcano lava.

But as Mrs. Von Bierbauer inserted a digit or two between Orelle's thighs, she felt herself getting wetter and wetter in anticipation.

How do you prepare for this...an evil, thin steel whip?

Orelle hear the swish of air, and closed her eyes, waiting for the lash.

But Mrs. Von Bierbauer, impudent old bitch that she was, held back from a full swing and watched Orelle's full buttocks de-clench.

As Orelle relaxed somewhat, as she leaned over the desk on her elbows...

The pants down at her knees...

The steel whip swung again with vigor and this time connected directly across Orelle's soft buns.

Five times!

WHACK! THWACK!

Orelle gripped the desk as if she was riding a typhoon, and truly it felt like thin lines of fire were crossing her tender skin.

Tears rolled out of Orelle's eyes, but she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming as Mrs. Von Bierbauer continued the whipping.

After five or six more, Orelle shrieked, but Mrs. Von Bierbauer could tell the girl was enjoying it, rubbing her legs together.

"I'm going to give you your last lashes elsewhere, dear. Stand up and pull off your shirt and your brassiere."

Orelle gasped inwardly as she realized that her breasts were new fodder for the cruelly accurate steel whip.

As the first shot slapped Orelle across her tender nipples, Mrs. Von Bierbauer felt incredibly empowered.

An hour later, when Orelle had happily labored between her landlady's legs, Mrs. Von Bierbauer felt true pleasure like she hadn't in some time...

She felt even more empowered after her fifth orgasm, when she graciously allowed her boarder permission to kneel on the hard bedroom floor and frig herself with the business end of the steel whip.