by JJ Argus
My wrists were raised and spread, locked into chains, my legs spread wide so that only my toes touched the floor, and they too locked into place. Ginny produced a new whip, a whip unlike any they had used before. It was long and curled and thick, a bull whip, with a small, sharp, hard tip. She let it trail along the floor as she moved slowly, tauntingly around me.
I moaned weakly, standing on my toes, shaking, trembling, aching.
Dog was led in between my legs, and began to lick, and slowly at first, but with increasing speed, my sexual hunger rose once again, spreading out through my weak, trembling body, enveloping my weak mind and spinning its intoxicating web across my thoughts.
“Now we begin,” Ginny growled.
She drew back, and I tried to brace myself. The whip flew through the air and slashed across my back. This was no light blow, but a hard punch, followed by a shockingly sharp pain which almost took my breath away. I screamed, yet there was a sudden dark hunger within me. I was being whipped. Really whipped now. This was no pretence, this was no game. The whip slashed across my back again and I jerked violently, crying out, tears filling my eyes.
Whipped! I was being well and truly whipped!
The whip slashed in, and now I felt it curl around my body, around my waist, the tip slashing up against the soft flesh of my belly. I sobbed, thrashing, even as Dog continued to lap at my pussy. My mind twisted even more violently, reeling between dark, hungry lust and the frightened little-girl cowering against the pain.
The whip flew forward, and once again curled around me, this time around my ribs.
Oh that bitch! That was what I remember thinking, in wonder, in awe, in hatred, and in admiration. Yes, admiration. For her cruelty towards me!
The whip cut into my back, into my ribs, hissing across my skin as it bent and the sharp, cruel tip slashed in across my right breast. My breast was thrown up and in by the force, and I screamed, the pain blasting through my body and mind.
The others applauded and laughed, and masturbated as they watched. The whip slashed across my back again, curling around my ribs and up to bite at my breast. Again, and then again the cruel whip sent my breast bouncing upwards, burning wildly, and then the tip struck true, struck exactly where Ginny would have it. It snapped up directly against my nipple.
My mind seemed to explode and I shrieked, yet even as the agony flared hotter the excitement became even more powerful. To whip me there! To whip me with a real whip, with the kind of whip which was the product of nightmares and fantasies. This was no switch or cane, no light flog, or even crop or Cat. This was the bullwhip. This was the whip which had bit into the backs of pirates and slaves.
Slaves!
Now I felt a true slave, cowering and exulting, sobbing even as my pussy and anus squeezed spasmodically around the cruel instruments jammed inside me. The whip curled around my ribs and cut at my breast again, then Rachel took her turn. Her eyes were dark slits of hunger as she drew back her arm. She was left handed, and the whip slashed in the opposite direction, curling around my left ribs this time, and by luck or skill unerringly snapping directly up against my nipple.
I screamed and wailed and threw myself at the bonds, even as the heat in my pussy began to spread out and envelope my body. The whip slashed in again, once more curling up beneath my arm and cutting at my nipple. A third blow struck directly below my areola, but two more struck true, and my nipple burned, swollen to twice its normal erect size.
Cynthia took her turn, and the whip slashed across my lower back, curling in around my hip, laying a line of fire across my skin as the tip rolled in to cut at my lower belly. I sobbed, my bottom snapping up and back, my ankles pulling against the chains. The next blow curled in lower, and the tip snapped directly at my pussy mound.
I came screaming, screaming madly, screaming mindlessly. Convulsions racked my whip marked body as I thrashed in my chains.
They laughed and taunted me, and the whip flew again, and again, and again, curling across my hips and down to snap at my bare pussy. I came again, and then again. It seemed every time the whip struck me I came. And then Cynthia’s aim sent the hard, hot tip snapping directly down across my clitoris. The world turned over. The orgasm too painful, the pleasure too wonderful to bear. I screamed, I think, until my lungs were empty, until my mind was blank, and then the world faded around me.
I don't think I ever really regained that part of me that snapped that night. For though my mind returned it was changed, altered. I stopped attending classes, not caring about anything but my body and the wanton acts which brought me pleasure. I ate off the floor, now, or out of the girls' hands, being whipped and tortured and beaten as I satisfied their pussies.
They eased up on the whips, and then I began to work for the sorority, stripping in a very expensive private club which earned me - the sorority, that was - over two thousand dollars a night. I was never prostituted, though I was often given to men to gain the sorority favours or friends.
EPILOGUE
A year passed, then another, then another, and I remained a slave as new girls came and old ones graduated. An unpaid servant and maid, and a sexual slave to serve their wishes and base desires.
Emma, who was then head girl, decided I should attend classes again. It wasn’t easy. I had the habit of saying “yes mistress” or “yes master” to anyone who addressed me. They trained me out of it with the whip, of course, and soon I was once again a true student. I eventually graduated with a masters in psychology, and the well placed alumni of the sorority placed me in a job at the university. Where I would be advising troubled girls.
I am always on the lookout now for girls with the right combination of characteristics to join the sorority, the right measure of sexual submissiveness and need. When I find them I tailor their therapy in such a way that they soon find themselves hanging by their wrists and glorying to the whip, as I do.
I feel no guilt over this. Indeed, it’s a wonderful feeling to know you have set a girl on the path of her true nature, the path to total sexual freedom and pleasure. To give oneself totally to the control of others is to lose all fears and worry. And I’m sure they, as I, will exult in lives of slavery - and freedom.
As will my daughters.
The sorority found a man who was almost prettier than I to impregnate me. My daughters are beautiful. They’re now ten, but it’s obvious both will be painfully beautiful young women. With my knowledge of psychology and the help of the sisters their minds are being carefully nurtured and nudged in the direction we wish them to take.
Another seven or eight years, and I have no doubt that when they enroll and are kneeling before the sisterhood as pledges, our efforts will reward us with another pair of true slaves, slaves who will kneel naked beside their mother, proud in their lush sensual beauty and their sexual submissiveness, taking pleasure in giving pleasure, and being punished. Revelling in the true nature of slavery.
But that is another story.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
EPILOGUE
