Learning

Every time the phone rang during the week I prayed it would be Sarah. When it wasn't, my heart sunk a little further. Every waking moment was consumed by thoughts of her. I re-lived the precious time I had been with her over and over in my mind. Gladly I would hold my cock out again and let her whip it mercilessly. She could do anything she wanted to do to me. Anything at all.

By late Saturday afternoon I was beside myself. The phone rang just before 5:00 o'clock. It was Sarah!

"Mr. Reynolds?"

"Yes. Sarah?"

"Mistress Sarah. You must never call me by my first name."

"I am sorry, Mistress."

"Eight o'clock tonight. Be prompt."

"Yes, ma'am."

I left early and waited in my car around the corner from her house so I would not be late. I knocked on the door not a second too late. Priscilla answered it. This time she was dressed in black slacks and a white, long-sleeved blouse.

"Good evening, Mr. Reynolds." Her smile was contagious.

"Good evening, Priscilla."

"Mistress is expecting you. She's in the study."

I followed Priscilla toward the study. Her slacks were tight against her deliciously round derriere. Thoughts of the wonderful blow-job she had given me to end the evening only a short week ago filled my mind. To my surprise, she did not follow me into the room. Instead, she closed the door behind me, leaving me alone with Mistress Sarah. Mistress was lounging on a leather sofa. Before lowering my head and eyes, I noticed she was wearing a bright red skirt and a white, turtle-neck sweater. Her legs were crossed.

"Strip down to your panties," she said. "Place your clothes neatly on the chair next to you."

No "hello." No greeting at all. Her voice was cold as steel. Quickly, I obeyed, taking off everything but a pair of white, silk women's panties. With a triangular band of lace shaped in a "V" in front. I had bought a large size, and they fit me perfectly. She made me stand in front for an agonizingly long time while she studied me.

"Turn around, slowly." Red-faced, I turned, presenting my backside. "Very good. They fit you quite nicely. They cling nicely to your ass." She leaned forward and ran the palm of her hand over the back of the panties. "Mmmmm. Nice and soft as well. Most men don't have a proper ass for panties, but I think you look quite becoming."

How wonderful... Women's panties "clinging" to my backside. "Nicely clinging," in fact. While it made me happy to please her, but I knew better than to respond. I would need her permission to speak.

"Priscilla and I have some wonderful things planned for you tonight. We've had a week to think about them. Sometimes I think she thinks more wickedly than I do. I love her imagination! Turn and face me."

I turned, head still lowered. Mistress ran her hand over the front of the panties, fondling the bulge. I think she smiled, but I could not see her face. Her touch was gentle; it was all I could to prevent getting an erection that would have meant automatic punishment. She was teasing me now.

"You may look at me, Mr. Reynolds."

I opened my eyes. She had uncrossed her legs, but held them tightly together. She was leaning forward, elbows on her knees, her hands over her cheeks. Her face was even more beautiful than I remembered it. Her complexion was totally pure. Bright red lipstick. Thin mascara. I watched her eyes move to the front of the panties.

"Priscilla told me she blew you before you left last week. Did you enjoy it?"

I swallowed hard before answering. "Yes," I admitted.

"I punished her severely for doing it without permission. Priscilla, come in here!" Priscilla opened the door and entered, looking embarrassed.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Show Mr. Reynolds the penalty you paid for giving him pleasure last week. It may give him an idea of what is in store for him."

Priscilla's face turned a thousand shades of red and I watched in amazement as she unbuttoned the side of her slacks, eased the zipper down, turned her back to me, and pulled the slacks over her hips. She let them encircle her thighs. She was wearing light-pink panties with tiny blue flowers. The panties soon followed the slacks. Her otherwise gorgeous ass was streaked like a road-map, a bright red pattern of lines that gave only a hint of the pain she must have endured.

"Her last whipping was over an hour ago and she still shows the results. Show him more."

Priscilla stole a glance of disbelief in Mistress Sarah's direction before prying open the two halves of her buns and putting on display a pink device that was protruding from her asshole.

"It's a butt plug. Something you will soon get used to, but something she loathes. It's been in there all day. Every step she takes is a reminder to her that she did something wrong. Very wrong. It won't happen again, will it, Miss Priscilla?"

"No, ma'am."

"Fine. Pull up your slacks. We have work to do."

Priscilla pulled her panties and slacks back into place. She winced when she eased the slacks over her still painful backside. There was no doubt in my mind she had suffered mightily for her "indiscretion."

"Take your panties off, Mr. Reynolds, and give them to Priscilla."

In seconds I was naked as the day I was born, standing in front of two women. I handed the silky undies to Priscilla and she held them daintily.

"Put them in his mouth, Priscilla." Priscilla moved toward me. I didn't need to be told to open up for her. She stuffed them completely inside me and I closed my lips. "Panties always make a fine gag. I hate screams too early in the evening. Come here, Mr. Reynolds."

I moved toward my still seated Mistress, wondering what she had in store for me. I dared not look at her. Priscilla stepped back, giving Mistress Sarah more room. "Now it is your turn to pay for last Saturday evening, Mr. Reynolds. Neither of you had my permission to engage in such terrible behavior. You came without my permission. You spilled your seed right into the mouth of my maid. She paid an awful price for what she did; you shall pay tenfold."

I gulped. This was not going to be a fun evening at all.

Mistress Sarah stood up and grasped my cock tightly in her hand. "Come with me," she said, tugging on my member as she literally dragged me out the room. She was hurting me, but I followed as best as I could. Before long, we were in yet another room that I had not seen. "This, Mr. Reynolds, is the Punish Room. I take only those slaves who have incurred my wrath to this room. Priscilla enjoyed more than a few moments here this week and she will be sitting down pretty gingerly for the next few days. Tonight will seem more like weeks to you than her few hours in this room."

Mistress released my cock from her vice-like grip. It hung limply, without ceremony. The panties were drying my mouth out, but there was nothing I could do about it.

"Get me a butt plug, Priscilla. Medium sized, at least for starters. Mr. Reynolds, bend over and grab your ankles." While I bent over into a very compromising position, Priscilla brought our Mistress the butt plug she had requested. I knew exactly where it was going. "Grease him!"

With my eyes closed, I couldn't see Priscilla, but she was soon behind me. I was getting used to her violating my asshole. She slid two gel-laden fingers into me as I grunted in pain. She worked them in and out, preparing the path for the butt plug. I couldn't imagine the butt plug would be any worse than the cock Mistress had shoved into me, but I couldn't have been more wrong. When Priscilla withdrew her glistening fingers, Mistress Sarah took her place and immediately began to press the device against my anus. The tapered plug went in easily at first, but as soon as it reached the wider part of the flange, the going got tougher. In fact, it was downright painful. Just the way Mistress wanted it.

She was an expert in the use of butt plugs. She knew just when to hold it in place and keep the anus stretched to its limit. At first the pain was tolerable, but as she introduced it further into the nether opening, the greater the pain became. This time there were no soothing words, no comfort, no helping me work my way through it. It was grin and bare it time. My groans told her when to back off. I bit into the panties in my mouth to try to ease the pain. I was gripping my knees so tightly that my knuckles were turning white. At last, the flange worked its way through the sphincter and popped into my rectum. I grunted at the sharp pain that went all the way up my spine, but at least I had endured the first real pain of the evening. Little was I to know it was probably the easiest pain to endure that night.

"Stay right where you are, Mr. Reynolds. The penalty phase for your misbehavior has only just begun."

Mistress left me for a few minutes while I stoically held onto my knees, my ass poking out provocatively with the pink end of the butt plug sticking obscenely out of me. I couldn't imagine why she was having me stay in this position until I heard a faint swish of air behind me, followed within milliseconds by a loud crack of leather against flesh and a searing pain across my buttocks. I lurched forward, barely able to maintain my balance.

"This is a little riding crop. It's just an introduction to our festivities tonight." I hear the whoosh of air again and felt the second stroke light a fire across my ass. It was followed so quickly by two additional strokes that I had no time to recover. "Let this be a lesson to you. You may never come in this house without my permission. Only mine. Priscilla had no authority to allow you release, especially in her mouth. You disgust me, Mr. Reynolds!"

THWACK!!!!!!!!!!!!

What followed, for the next five minutes, was one stroke after the other, sometimes two or three at a time. At times Mistress waited a moment, tapped the riding crop on my ass lightly, then wailed away. Biting into the panties no longer helped, but I did anyway to stop from crying like a baby. I lost count of the times she laid into me, but it was easily close to 30. Once or twice she took direct aim with the tip of the crop onto the protruding butt plug, and I saw blinding stars in my mind each time.

When she finally finished my face dripped with sweat. My backside felt like it had been lit afire. She was an expert in wielding a crop and left no doubt she would show me no mercy tonight. And somehow I knew this was only the beginning.

"Straighten up!" I arose from my bent-over position as best I could, but it wasn't fast enough for Mistress. Again she drove the riding crop across my beleaguered ass, almost driving the panties out of my mouth. "You are not moving fast enough!"

Mistress moved in front me. "Hold your cock in the palm of your hand. Show me the thing you used to defile Priscilla."

I held my limp manhood in the palm of my left hand, praying it would not fall prey to another painful moment. My prayer would not be answered. The terrible whoosh again, this time followed by the leather tip of the riding crop striking directly on the cockhead. The pain was unbelievable. Unbearable. My whole body slumped to the group in a helpless heap.

"Get up, you wimp!" This time I moved as fast as I could, but the pain in my cock never seemed to abate. "Are you sorry you defiled Priscilla?"

I tried to speak through the pain. "Yes, ma'am."

"Are you ever going to come again without my permission?"

"No, no. I promise I won't."

"Ask me to give you one more stroke on your wimpy cock!"

Omigod! These were the most difficult words I would ever say in my life. "Please, Mistress, give me one more stroke," I finally blurted.

"On what, slave?"

"On... on my penis, ma'am."

"Open your eyes. I want you to watch this one."

I opened my eyes but dared not look at the face of my Mistress. She was holding the long, thin riding crop straight up, in the middle of her body. Her nipples pressed into the fabric of her sweater. I dreamed of my lips around them.

"Hold it out for me again!"

It was still stinging from the last blow, but I held it one more in the palm of my hand. I didn't know how I could take another stroke. I watched in terror as she drove the end of the whip downward. I knew there was no way I could brace myself for the pain. I winced. Suddenly the whip stopped, an inch or so from its target. She was teasing me now, making the eventual act that much more unbearable.

She laughed at me. "Just trying to improve my aim, Mr. Reynolds. But I am glad I didn't follow through. You closed your eyes, didn't you?"

"Yes, ma'am," I admitted.

"And I told you to watch me, didn't I?"

I nodded affirmatively, punctuating it with a slight sigh.

"If you close your eyes, the penalty will be so severe you will wish you were never born. Look down at your poor example of a cock and accept what I have to offer you." I looked down at my manhood, still red and sore from the first blow. She brought the double-edged leather tip of the crop over my cock and rubbed it lightly. "This time, if you fall to the floor like a pathetic wimp, I will beat you so hard you will go into orbit."

Having to watch as well as endure the unbelievable pain that was about to come my way was agonizing. I was amazed at how much my cock had diminished in size. Fear has a way of doing that. I watched the terrible crop quickly descend. It snapped on my penis with a loud crack. Mercifully, the blow was not as hard as the first one, but it was still enough to buckle my knees and render me almost senseless. Reflexively, the panties flew out of my mouth and fell silently to the floor. I screamed as loudly as I was capable of. I bent over double, but I stayed my ground.

"I bet it won't become hard now if Priscilla takes it in her mouth," said Mistress Sarah, looking down at the woefully limp appendage.

I didn't think it would ever harden again.

"Put the panties back in his mouth, Priscilla. And let's use some duct tape over his lips so he doesn't have another 'accident.'"

Priscilla picked the panties up and I dutifully opened up for her. She stuffed the panties back in, then left and returned moments later with a roll of gray duct tape and a pair of scissors. She cut a six inch piece of tape from the roll and flattened it over my mouth. There was only one way for the panties to go now, and I wasn't about to swallow them.

"Okay, let's string him up. Come here, Mr. Reynolds."

I followed Mistress to the side of the room. There was a chrome bar with wrist cuffs hanging from a ceiling rope. I watched as Pricilla lowered the bar with a pulley while Mistress stood in front of me. When the bar had been lowered sufficiently, she commanded me to raise my arms over my head. Deftly she secured my wrists with each of the cuffs. Her mission complete, Priscilla turned the handle to the pulley one more, this time in the other direction, and I felt my arms being slowly raised higher and higher until they were stretched as far as they would go.

Mistress Sarah admired her handiwork. "Mmmm. I have always liked to see a man hanging from the rafters. It gives me a feeling of total control. He looks so helpless, Priscilla."

"And so vulnerable, ma'am."

"He has a nice back, don't you think?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Do you think it would look better with some stripes? Perhaps for a little affect?"

"I do think backs always look better with stripes, ma'am. Especially a nice back like that!"

"And his ass. Stripes as well?"

"Of course. The pattern would be very effective, I think. Would you like me to get something for you that might create the pattern you are looking for?"

"Oh, Priscilla, my dear. You are always one step ahead of me. I think the single-tailed whip would be just perfect for the occasion."

"Ouch! That's the one you used on me last night. Stings like the dickens. And leaves such beautiful stripes. I'll fetch it, ma'am."

I couldn't believe the banter behind me. They were blithely talking about striping my back and buttocks in no different a tone than talking about what they had for dinner. And the tape over my mouth left me no choice but to listen. And wait...

Priscilla returned, I am sure holding the "single-tailed whip" that was about to cause me considerable pain, I was sure. I had no idea what a single-tailed whip was, but I needed only my imagination to understand that it was probably capable of misery, and I knew I was about to find out.

"Mr. Reynolds," said Mistress Sarah, "until this moment I have not discussed with you the use of a 'safe word.' Or, in your present circumstance, a gesture on your part that would indicate I am going too far in one of our little sessions. My slaves seldom, if ever, use the word or gesture, but since the whip I am about to use on you carries with it quite a bit more pain than you might be accustomed to, I feel it is necessary to inform you. If you did not have your poor mouth gagged so efficiently, I would instruct you that your safe-word is 'Mercy.' As an alternative, you may shake your head quickly in an up and down motion. That will tell me we have taken you over the edge and I will immediately cease or tone down what I am doing. Do you understand?"

I nodded my head in agreement. My heart was beating wildly. She hadn't offered me the use of safe-word when she nearly rattled my penis into eternity, so I wondered why she was doing so now. Nothing could be more painful than the tip of riding crop brought down hard on one's cock. At least I thought so. But, deep down in my heart of hearts, I vowed never to use the safe-word. Never, never, never. I wanted to make my Mistress proud of me. If I could take what she dished out so far and was still alive and kicking, I could handle most anything. And I lived to please her, to make her proud of me.

I heard movement behind me. I closed my eyes and bit into the panties in my mouth once more. It was my only way of bracing myself. The whip made more of a whistle that a whoosh, and when it landed across my back with a stinging crack, I thought she had cut me in two. My whole body shuddered from the burning pain. I threw my head back and felt tears welling in my eyes.

"Mmmm. Stripe number one. I think five on the back and five on the buttocks will look just fine," said Mistress Sarah.

For the briefest of seconds, thoughts of shaking my head violently up and down, my "safe gesture," seemed like a viable alternative to the unbelievable pain. Nine more of these and I just might go bananas. But I couldn't break my vow this early in the game, so I held on for dear life.

The next stroke was inches below the first, right in the center of my back. It shook the wrist cuffs and literally made me jump a foot or so off the floor. Stroke after stroke lit white-hot burning fires along the length of my back. When she reached my ass for the last five, I felt like my back was burning out of control. She spared my ass no mercy, using the whip expertly, never striping the same place. By the ninth and next to last stroke I was so exhausted I thought I would faint. She wielded the final blow extra hard, for good measure I am sure. It sent me through the roof. Tears poured freely from my eyes.

"Beautiful!" said Priscilla.

"Indeed. He stripes very nicely. Perhaps because his skin is so pale," continued Mistress Sarah. "You have done very well, Mr. Reynolds. I am proud of you."

'I am proud of you.' Her words actually lifted my spirits. My Mistress, proud of me for enduring the pain. My mission in life, from this point forward, was to always make her proud of me. Unbelievable as it may seem, I think I was at such a point in our relationship, albeit as short as it was, that I felt it my duty to accept her pain, to desire her pain, knowing that in the end I would make her proud of me. And that was all I needed of her. I knew I was her little "toy." That didn't matter. What did matter was the bond that was growing between us. I could actually feel it. I think she could too. Much later I would learn more about the strange bond between Mistress and slave. I would learn to trust her implicitly. I would learn to endure the most severe pain. And I would do because I loved her deeply.