Claiming Aty

-Dr Isabella Pacetti's Notes:

To recap: Katy has hurt and degraded herself in order to show her devotion to Sophie, and she has been rewarded with a long-awaited orgasm. Now Sophie's mood appears to be growing darker, and she is taking Katy down to the cellar with a promise that she will howl in pain, something for which Katy has begged.

It is my habit to remind the reader that each of these women - Katy included - is a consenting adult. This is especially important to remember during the following scenes, which are the most truly sadistic in the whole story.

-Katy's Statement:

Sophie's long legs carried her swiftly ahead of me, and I struggled to keep pace on my hands and knees.

"Hurry up, please, you nasty little dog. I dressed like this for my own comfort and pleasure, not for you to perv over me."

I tried to increase my speed, and felt I ought to deny this accusation, not least because it suggested such disrespect.

"Miss Sophie, I promise I'm not... I wouldn't dare..."

Sophie turned abruptly and marched back to me until she stood behind me. I felt her foot curl over my bottom and then shove. I fell forward untidily, flat on my face on the kitchen floor, and with new excitement flowering inside.

"Shut up Katy. I'm not interested in your whining. Slither into your pit, where you belong." She pointed towards the stairs that led down to the cellar. She wasn't shouting, but her voice was powerful.

I began to crawl on my belly, as fast as I could, Sophie striding ahead of me once more. She waited for me at the foot of the stairs, arms folded. I carefully eased myself down the steps head first, painfully aware that if I tumbled now there would be no laughter. When I was almost at the bottom with my eyes fixed on Sophie's toes, she turned with an irritable sigh and entered the cellar. I squirmed across the floor, following Sophie to the Throne. She was seated by the time I caught up and I lay full length on the floor.

"Stand up, let me look at you."

I was shaking as I struggled to my feet. This was the first time I had been upright since my orgasm, and the sudden change in atmosphere from Sophie was disorienting. I couldn't meet her gaze.

"Ooh, something's made you nervous, hasn't it?" She grinned. "What's wrong? I haven't hurt you, I haven't threatened you, I haven't shouted... What are you frightened of?"

"You," I whispered, and even the word thrilled me. "You're starting to be a little crueller and I'm... helpless."

"I am. And you are," she purred. "But I'm still the person you were worshipping earlier. All the things we discussed remain the same. Do you trust me?"

In a way I couldn't describe, I knew this wasn't quite the same person I had worshipped. I still had the desire to worship, but now I also thrilled with fear, just a little.

"Yes, I trust you." And this, after all, was still true. "I'm not only frightened."

"Good girl. I think it's time to reconsider your costume. Take off your shoes and give them to me please."

I bent sideways and pulled the cheap black pumps off my feet, with some relief. I pressed them together and handed them to Sophie. She stood and moved close, holding the shoes behind her back.

"Katy, you're cowering. You're cringing. There'll be time and good reason to do that later. For now, stand up straight, chest out, head up. Lift your head like you're proud of yourself. Pretend you're a woman, with a mind and personality. It might be fun."

I allowed myself to feel stung by this, and I wanted to prove something, and this emboldened me. I stood erect and raised my chin, meeting Sophie's eye and holding my mouth firm. I tried to look defiant.

A smile crept across her lips. "Oh that's sexy," she whispered. "Don't move, stay exactly like that..."

She moved slowly, and I had time to see the soles of my shoes moving toward my face. She held a shoe in each hand and pressed a sole against each of my cheeks. She had a cold smile on her face as she gripped my face firmly and pushed my head around. The shoes scuffed over my skin, scrubbing like soft sandpaper. I screwed up my face and grunted, but didn't resist. This went on for a full minute, my face getting more sore and gritty all the time. It was a little painful, sharply humiliating, and yet... everything gave me pleasure. When I caught a glimpse, Sophie was pouting with a mischievous smile and chuckling silently.

The shoes went away for a moment, and Sophie licked her lips.

"Put on that sexy, dignified face again."

My lips were shivering with excitement and shock, and I knew my face couldn't possibly look dignified now, but I tried to resume my pose. Sophie laughed as she rubbed a shoe over my face again. My eyes were watering and I was breathing hard, and Sophie reacted by wiping the grimy rubber over my eyes and nose and pushing it between my lips. I let myself be overcome with confusing emotions. She was scrutinising my face all the while, and grinning.

She stopped, stepped back, and narrowed her eyes.

"Open mouth."

I obeyed and was not surprised to have my shoes placed in my mouth. I bit down to hold them, and stared dumbly at my tormentor.

"Filthy," Sophie mused, then turned and reached down beside the throne, lifting up the mirror. She held it up in front of my face, angled slightly so that I had to look up to see my reflection. My face was a mess, dirtier than ever and now scuffed with dust and grit from the shoes. My skin was sore and my nose and lips were rather attractive shades of pink. I felt a rush of pleasure and let out a breath which was part sigh and part laugh. I looked exactly as I wanted.

"Fank you Miff Fophie."

"You strange little creature. The things that make you proud." She returned the mirror to its place by the Throne. "But I'm disgusted by you. Because you're not dignified and you have nothing that a normal person would be proud of. Do you?"

"No Miff Fophie."

Sophie snatched the shoes from my mouth and dropped one of them on the floor. The other whipped in her hand and struck my cheek sharply. I gasped.

"No," said Sophie, "nothing to be proud of. And while you're getting your weird kicks from being filthy, you're not considering my feelings, are you?"

"Oh... oh... I'm sorry, Miss Sophie, I didn't..."

The shoe smacked me again, and I realised Sophie was only playing at being insulted. I started to enjoy myself a lot more.

"How can I kiss you, without dirtying my lips?" Another smack, and I said I was sorry, and meant it. I yearned to be kissed. "And I can't slap you without dirtying my hands."

Nevertheless, she demonstrated that she could use a cheap shoe to slap me perfectly well, and I thanked her. I much preferred her hands or feet to slap me, but I really didn't want to make her dirty.

"I can't even let you near me in case you soil my beautiful white clothes."

After the accompanying blow had stopped ringing on my skin, I whispered:

"Or your beautiful body."

Sophie called me a good girl in a voice that made it sound like an insult, and began a series of smacks either side of my face which seemed to show no sign of abating. I cowered, screwing up my face, whimpering and squealing, not daring to raise my hands to my face, but slowly crumpling to the floor and curling up. She leaned down and grabbed my hair, pulling my face to where she could slap it. In truth the blows weren't unbearable - and I suspected I was becoming tougher about this sort of pain - but the aggression made me shake and whimper. And now Sophie really was shouting insults and my body was electrified with a dirty erotic thrill.

"You little shit! Disgusting little slut! How dare you? How dare you make me look at you?"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please let me wash myself! Please!"

"In this room? You're in here until I'm finished with you."

"Yes Miss Sophie! I have some cleaning things down here! I won't waste your time, I promise! Please!"

She threw the shoe in my face and stepped away. "Get on with it."

"Thank you Miss Sophie." I crawled dizzily across the floor to the stone sink in the corner. I was aware that Sophie was walking silently beside me, and I felt cripplingly self-conscious. Sophie spoke softly as I filled the basin and took out a rough cloth and soap from a box beside it.

"Of course, you're disgusting anyway - skinny and pale and wriggling around on the floor. Cleaning your face won't help that. You'll always be fucking filthy. Spitting on you would demean me. Why do I waste my time on you?"

I grew hot with humiliation as I feverishly rubbed the tart soap over my face with shaking hands, feeling it sting. Yet I dared to believe that this sort of talk meant Sophie was turned on. I blew foam from my lips to answer.

"Because you're kind and generous. And lovely."

"Thank you, Katy," she purred, kneeling beside me and stroking my hair, making me squirm with pleasure. "You're pathetic. Breathe in, nice and deep."

I obeyed without thinking, and then squeaked in panic as my head was pushed down into the basin. My face was submerged in water, but I didn't struggle, and Sophie approved.

"Good girl. Don't fight me. Now, it's a simple game. As soon as you have removed your bra and your socks you can breathe again."

With wet, trembling hands I fumbled with the catch between my shoulder blades and desperately tried to remove the bra. It took too long, I was too unfamiliar with the process, and I began to panic. As soon as the bra was loose I reached back awkwardly to tug my socks from my feet. Even this took a frighteningly long time, and little gulps of air were escaping my lips by the time I was finished. Sophie didn't release me immediately, and I was almost ready to struggle when I felt my hair being tugged. My head was pulled out of the water, just a few inches.

I gasped and drew huge, ragged breaths. My face was held just inches from the water, and I was terrified.

"Thank you Miss Sophie!" I breathed, desperately. "Thank you for letting me wash. Thank you for letting me undress." The water sloshed in front of my face and little waves caressed my mouth and nose. In a whisper I added, "Thank you for letting me breathe."

My head was hauled up and back. Sophie looked me over, from my scrubbed pink face to my now naked torso, where water was trickling and giving me goose bumps. Suddenly she was kissing me, holding me roughly in her arms, still gripping my hair. I felt light-headed again, but snaked my arms around Sophie's back, clutching the fabric of her blouse.

"Thank you for letting me breathe," I said, speaking into her mouth between kisses. "Thank you for not letting me breathe."

The embrace ended suddenly. Sophie pushed me away with such force that I fell to the floor, my flesh making a soft pattering sound against the flagstones. I looked up at her, noticing that the front of her blouse was damp, and staring at her without any shame. I knew that my feelings of rapture and adoration would show in my eyes, and I felt sure she would approve.

She knelt neatly beside my hip, her toned skin decorated with brilliant white fabric and topped with shimmering blonde hair. I sighed and she smiled affectionately, looking casually up and down my body. It was as though the ordeal she had put me through was already forgotten. Perhaps it was. I didn't expect it to be important to her. I didn't need it to be. And now her attention was on my body, and I liked that.

"I think you look better now. Your pretty little nipples are standing up, look. Don't ever wear any clothes ever again without my express permission. Understand?"

I nodded, feeling wonderful. "Yes Miss Sophie. I'm sorry Miss Sophie."

"I know you are. You're still wearing those knickers, aren't you?"

I nodded tentatively, waiting to see what this might lead to.

"Those poor, pretty knickers that could have been worn by a clean, dignified woman. But they were given to you."

She was running her finger idly along the waistband of the knickers, just slightly inside the elastic. It tickled and teased and I squirmed.

"I'm sorry Miss Sophie."

"And what have you done to them, Katy?"

"Wet them, Miss Sophie. I came in them and made them wet. I'm sorry." This aroused me as though I was being ground under her feet. Utterly humiliating and exciting.

"Poor knickers, all damp and sticky and forced to suffer the indignity of clinging to your filthy cunt. It won't do."

She sat back and rested her hands on her thighs, smirking.

"Katy, you don't have permission to wear those knickers."

An electric charge rushed through me and my hands leapt to my pelvis. I immediately tugged the knickers down, over my thighs, calves and feet. I lay down flat, now completely naked, and held the fragment of black cotton with both hands. They felt wet, and I could smell myself on them. And they had clung slightly to my pussy as I pulled them off, and I could feel the dampness between my thighs.

I lay still and watched Sophie with a mixture of fear and arousal. Increasingly arousal. She stood swiftly and stepped over me, allowing me another momentary glimpse of her knickers. She walked silently across the cellar to the rack containing most of the canes and floggers. She returned carrying the cane she had used to teach me my lessons a week before. It was no surprise to me that I felt more afraid. It wasn't much of a surprise that I felt more turned on.

Sophie hooked the tip of the cane under the waistband of my knickers and lifted them out of my hands. I let my hands drop to my belly and fixed my eyes on the damp knickers, which were lowered until they dangled over my face.

"You have abused these knickers. They are more valuable and important than you. You should apologise to them."

"Yes Miss Sophie. Um..." I stared at the black fabric, breathing in the scent and feeling foolish. "I'm sorry for wetting you... I'm sorry for making you sticky. I'm sorry for cumming in you. Please forgive me."

"You're pathetic. Now clean them. But don't soak them in your dribble, use your teeth. Scrape them. They're thick with your slime."

"Thank you Miss Sophie. I'm sorry." I raised my head until I could close my teeth over the knickers, and carefully slid them over the cotton. I was drawing sticky fluid into my mouth and I swallowed it at first with a shudder of disgust. Then I reminded myself I had been sucking on my dirty knickers for a week, and I continued with more enthusiasm.

Sophie let me continue for several minutes, the room silent but for the wet sounds of my mouth and the sighing of my breath. She stood tall and elegant beside me, one hand holding the cane, the other behind her back.

After a while she said "Stop" very quietly, and when I had lowered my head, she laid the knickers gently on my face. I was very aware of my body heat, and my heaving breaths. I could see Sophie only dimly through the fabric, and could hear nothing. Each ragged breath drew in the aroma of my dirty knickers. My world was suddenly small, dark and solitary - an intimate sensory prison.

Sophie spoke quietly again.

"Raise your feet until they are either side of your head. Hold them there with your hands."

I moved as gracefully as I could, curling until my hands gripped my ankles and pushed them as near as I could to my cheeks. I was ridiculously wide open and the moisture in my pussy tingled as it cooled.

Still speaking softly, Sophie said: "You will apologise for wetting yourself. You will be caned. There will be no limit to the time or the number, and you may not cum."

"Thank you Miss-"

The cane moved sharply with a delicious 'whip' sound, and then bit my thighs with a rich 'crack'. A scream growled in my throat and I gritted my teeth.

"Thank you. I'm sorry I wet myself."

The cane was brushing affectionately over my open pussy, then its tip was playing skilfully with my clit, making me tremble, making me ache with desire.

"Thank you-"

Another stroke across my thighs and I apologised again. A series of similar blows followed, and the pain was intense and thrilling. I gripped my ankles until my knuckles hurt. I apologised over and over through gritted teeth, the screams still growling in my throat. I felt strangely elated, and no less turned on.

"I'm sorry I wet myself! Nnng! I'm sorry I - Nnng! - wet myself..!"

On and on this went, my thighs and bottom burning with pain, my body aching with lust. And then the cane was resting on my clit, and then its length was moving back and forth, gently and smoothly, like a violin bow across the strings. I moaned.

"Beg for it here, Katy."

I caught something in Sophie's voice and squinted to see her through the knickers which clung to my face. Through the tangle of fabric I saw: she was kneeling and her hand was in her own knickers, masturbating.

I whined with longing as a wave of affection and pleasure surged through me, and almost shouted: "Please cane my pussy! Please Miss Sophie, oh Goddess, please cane me!" I assumed Sophie wanted me to know what she was doing - I didn't want to believe Sophie wasn't entirely in control of everything - but that didn't matter. The idea that my punishment was turning on my Goddess filled me with joy that made tears wet my cheeks. "Please cane my pussy! Please! Please!"

The cane began tapping against the swollen, delicate flesh, and I recognised that Sophie was finding the appropriate force to use, just as she'd guided my hand earlier. Even as she was building to her own orgasm, Miss Sophie was taking care of me. I wanted to be beaten mercilessly, but Sophie was in control and treating me kindly. I felt safe and warm.

Then the cane bit me and I screamed, unprepared for the shocking pain. I realised Sophie didn't have to hit hard, the lightest caning would be enough to make me convulse. But I felt safe, and I loved and adored my tormentor, and wanted more than anything to please her.

"Thank you for my pain! Oh Goddess, thank you so much! I'm sorry for wetting myself! Aghh!"

And my legs moved instinctively as each blow fell. And in my haze of pain and darkness and scent it took me several blows to realise that my legs were opening, straining wider all the time.

And then the caning stopped. The length of the cane was resting firmly against my abused pussy, and I froze. I held my breath and forced myself to stop sobbing because I desperately wanted to hear the soft sighs as Sophie reached orgasm.

-Sophie's Statement:

It had been a quick and fierce orgasm, and the fingers I pulled from my knickers were not as wet as they might have been. But I licked them silently and wiped them on my blouse, and then settled myself beside Katy. She was sobbing again, but I could see her lips opening and closing, and I recognised the little gasps of pleasure. Her thighs were glowing red and striped with cruel welts. I stroked them and let my fingernails graze them slightly. She shuddered and whimpered. I wondered if she realised how wide her legs were spread.

"Are you pleased with yourself, Katy?"

"I feel wonderful, Miss Sophie. Thank you so much. Oh Goddess, thank you!"

I smiled affectionately, still high in my afterglow. "You wretched little insect. What have we learned?" I continued to stroke, now with both hands. "You're pathetically grateful if I brutally flog your cunt while I have an orgasm. Is this correct?"

"Yes Goddess! It was beautiful!"

"Worm. Do you have any idea what that makes me think of you? Hm?"

"No Miss Sophie. I daren't guess."

"No. Well, it makes me think you're beneath contempt." I said this sweetly, and enjoyed watching Katy's breast rise and fall heavily as the words turned her on. The dangerous thought that had been at the back of my mind all night and day became a plan I was ready to pursue. "There's nothing I could do to you that would be too cruel, is there?"

I lifted the knickers off her face and carefully laid them to one side. I smiled down at her and gently stroked her face. Her eyes were wide and moist and she spoke in a trembling whisper.