Once upon a time, in a land which exists in the dark recesses of the mind, there was a Mistress. And the Mistress was me.
Night draws in. I have had supper with the visitor, a County Sheriff with a lame horse who appealed for a bed for the night. He is comely, I suppose, in the way of young, strong men, but really nothing interesting. Not to my taste. His eyes were merry, though, dark and knowing.
I retire to my dim, firelit chamber. My Maid is drowsing by the fire after a long day. I love this Maid. She is so obedient, such clever fingers. So pretty. I stand for a moment, admiring how the deep red dress sets off her long dark hair, and the swell of her breasts rising out of the tight bodice.
I clap my hands sharply. "Up, Maid! There is time for sport before we sleep."
She is awake immediately. "Yes, Mistress. What would you have me do?"
Ah, I love this girl. Quick as a fox.
"Maid, I am in the mood for a beating. Fetch me the crop, and the rope."
She flinches. It is only two days since I beat her last and she still has glorious purple bruises across her pink little arse.
"Yes, Mistress."
"Good girl."
I take her wrists behind her and tie them together. I pull her over to the table and push her down over it, my left hand resting on the back of her neck lightly but firmly. Already her hips are jammed up tightly against the table in hunger.
"How many did I give you last time, Maid?"
"Fifteen, Mistress."
"Good. I shall give you...twenty, and if you scream pleasingly I shall kiss you goodnight."
"Thankyou, Mistress!"
I hear the surprise in her voice. Normally I would go higher, but her bruises are so delightful I don't want to overstep the mark.
With my right hand I scoop up her skirts and fling them over her back. Aaah. Such a peach, a bruised peach. I cannot resist squeezing it, and even as she gasps in pain, I feel her growing hotter. I am a strict Mistress, but I do give my girl what she wants. Her cunt is practically dripping in anticipation, she burns with lust. I look forward to sating it.
SWISH-CRACK!
The crop lands hard on her arse. She gasps, tears starting in her eyes.
SWISH-CRACK! SWISH-CRACK! SWISH-CRACK! SWISH-CRACK!
"How many, Maid?"
"Five, Mistress...thankyou..." Her voice is dreamy, despite the tears trickling down her face. The crop on top of the bruising must have sent her out into space quickly tonight. She's barely conscious of anything but my loving hand on her, and the pain.
SWISH-CRACK! SWISH-CRACK! SWISH-CRACK!
"I love you, Mistress...wonderous Lady..."
SWISH-CRACK!