Whip Me

by Cathryn Cooper

  Juliet was a daddy’s girl, who got whatever she wanted. She’d sensed that the mechanic had resented that about her, but she’d also sensed he fancied her. She’d noticed him checking out her breasts on more than one occasion. Daddy had paid for those, as well!

  It was almost six o’clock, which was when the mechanic closed for the night, so Juliet hurried on down the street. She could see the garage just up ahead. The doors were wide open and her car was being lowered down from the ramp. Peter was working the machinery, and even from a distance she could see the oil and sweat-stains on his overalls. He’d obviously worked very hard that day, but hopefully he’d still have some energy left in his tank!

  ‘I’ve come to collect my car,’ said Juliet, stepping into the mechanic’s workshop.

  ‘It’s just finished,’ said Peter, who did a double-take when he saw Juliet’s outfit. The breeze was ruffling the hem of her skirt, making it flounce around her stocking tops. And her blouse was tight, with maybe one too many buttons left undone, so as not to spoil the view of Juliet’s newly bought-and-paid-for cleavage.

  ‘The dent came out fine,’ the mechanic said, trying to keep his mind on his job. He ran his hand across the surface of the bright pink convertible. He showed a tender touch, which made Juliet all the more eager to feel his hands upon her skin.

  ‘It’s like I never even crashed the thing,’ Juliet giggled, then she watched as Peter went over to the desk in the corner and filled out a bill. There was a Pirelli calendar pinned to the wall in front of him, showing a semi-naked woman draped over a sports car. Juliet wandered over, attracted by the sensuality of the image, which made something stir inside her body. The hunky mechanic and her provocative outfit had already caused her cunt lips to moisten, but this image took her arousal further, as she imagined herself in the model’s place, draped across the sports car’s bonnet.

  ‘So that’ll be eighty-five quid, including VAT,’ said Peter, but the mention of VAT didn’t kill the moment. Quite the opposite – Juliet had been eagerly waiting for the money talk to start, since it gave her a chance to be a bad girl.

  ‘I didn’t bring my purse,’ she told the mechanic.

  ‘That’s fine,’ said Peter, ‘you can always pay me on–’

  ‘Wait,’ said Juliet, butting in. ‘I didn’t bring my purse on purpose, because I have no money. I can’t afford to pay you. I let you do the work even though I couldn’t pay.’

  Peter’s eyebrows rose out of curiosity, then he glanced at Juliet and then at her car. It was obvious she was loaded. It was obvious she was a daddy’s girl. So why was she fighting over eighty-five quid?

  ‘Look, maybe I can do it slightly cheaper,’ mumbled Peter, uncertain what else to do in the circumstances.

  ‘But don’t you think I’m a bad girl?’ asked Juliet.

  ‘N-no!’ stammered Peter, polite at first. But then he reconsidered: ‘Well, maybe you are.’

  ‘Yes, I am,’ insisted Juliet. ‘I’m a bad girl and I deserve to be punished.’

  Bemused but interested, Peter looked up into Juliet’s face, trying to make some sense of the strange situation. The girl appeared to be totally serious. A fantasy was taking place inside her head – one she seemed determined to play out to the full.

  Unsure of his role in the fantasy, but attracted to the girl, Peter walked to the front of the garage. He shut the doors, which blocked out most of the sunlight, giving the place the air of a dimly lit dungeon. His back still to the girl, he heard the sound of Juliet’s stilettos. They made a click-clack noise on the concrete floor, as she strode towards her pink convertible. She wasn’t the first girl to try and seduce the hunky mechanic, but Juliet was different. She seemed to want something more than the usual hard, fast sex with a bit of rough.

  ‘I need to be punished,’ said Juliet, as Peter stepped towards her.

  ‘Yes, you’re a very bad girl for not paying,’ he said, suddenly getting the measure of the girl’s desires. At six foot plus, he was towering over her, so it wasn’t difficult for him to adopt a dominant manner. He gazed down at her, a scowl on his face, his rugged good looks turning angry and mean.

  ‘Tie me up and whip me,’ said Juliet, licking her lips in anticipation.

  ‘Tie you up with what?’ asked Peter, so Juliet lifted her skirt and showed him her nylon stockings.

  ‘And whip you with what?’

  ‘Are you wearing a belt?’

  ‘Yes, I’m wearing a belt.’

  ‘So, whip me with that!’

  Juliet kicked off her stiletto heels, then rolled her hold up stockings down. She handed them to Peter, who made her turn around and lean across the convertible’s bonnet, like the sexy model in the calendar. As she stretched out her arms, Peter used the stockings to bind her wrists to the wing mirrors. He pulled the stockings tight, so they chafed her skin. She was thoroughly bound, which was just how she liked it!

  Peter walked in front of the car, admiring Juliet’s trussed-up body. She was positioned face down against the bonnet, with her bottom poking up into the air. Her tiny skirt had risen almost to the top of her thighs, but not high enough for Peter’s liking. He lifted it a little further, only to find Juliet had no knickers on.

  ‘What a slut!’ said Peter, and the comment was enough to send a shiver of lust through Juliet’s body. She stared into the windscreen. She could see her own reflection, plus that of the dark-featured mechanic, who was standing tall behind her, menacingly so. She watched him unbutton his dirty overalls, which immediately fell down to his waist. He wore a T-shirt underneath, which was caked with sweat, the dampness of the fabric making it cling tight to his pectorals.

  Peter pulled the belt from his jeans, then formed a loop with the leather strap. Doubling the thickness of the belt would make it easier for him to handle, as well as doubling the intensity of every lash. He tested the makeshift whip against the palm of his hand, and just the sound of the slap was enough to set Juliet’s nerves a-jangle. The muscles in her buttocks tensed up tight, as she readied herself for the first hard lash.

  ‘You’re a bad girl,’ yelled Peter, as he raised his hand and then drove the leather strap into Juliet’s bare behind. His biceps were huge, so there was power aplenty in the strike, which sent quivers of pain through Juliet’s flesh. She screamed at the point of impact, her howls getting louder, as the mechanic followed straight up with another fierce strike. The thick leather strap smacked Juliet’s arse cheeks, a red mark colouring her flesh where it struck.

  ‘You’re a bad girl and a slut,’ Peter shouted, as he wielded his weapon of punishment again. The leather belt zipped and thrashed through the air, before striking Juliet’s curvy arse. An agonising burst of pain shot up her back and down her thighs, spreading way beyond the point where the belt had made contact. Her entire body was feeling it now, including her pussy, which started to throb.

  ‘Harder,’ shrieked Juliet, as the growing sting in her arse cheeks added fuel to the mounting fire in her cunt.

  ‘Yes, harder,’ agreed Peter, his biceps flexing, as he delivered six quick strikes of the belt. Each new blow was harder than the last, leaving Juliet’s rear-end red and sore. So, keen to find fresh flesh to whip, Peter trained the next lash on her upper thighs.

  As leather met skin, the young girl shrieked, but was it a cry of pain or a cry of pleasure? Peter sniffed the air and smelled Juliet’s cunt. It seemed the harder he whipped her, the hornier she became. He gave her thighs another firm lash, then watched her writhe around on the bright pink bonnet. He saw a spasm of tension shoot through Juliet’s body. He saw her wrists pull at the stockings that held her in place.

  ‘You dirty fucking bitch,’ the mechanic shouted, and how he longed to whip her again. He wanted to hear her squeal once more, and to leave another red mark on her buttocks and thighs, but his dick was too pumped up with tension. Peter had to fuck her now!

  Excited, Juliet stared into the windscreen, watching as Peter threw aside the belt and dropped his overalls. H
e undid his jeans and stepped up behind her, pressing his erection between her cunt lips. His helmet was huge, but he forced it into her orifice, then thrust his full-length deep inside. The vigorous penetration made her gasp. Clearly he was still in dominant mode – out to teach her a lesson with his rigid dick!

  ‘Filthy slut,’ muttered Peter, as he started to power his manhood in and out of Juliet’s cunt. His hands were gripped around her thighs, his fingers digging deeper, as his passion mounted with each new thrust. It was almost as if he was still whipping her. He wasn’t tender and gentle or out to please her. There was aggression and venom in the way he fucked. Whipping Juliet had brought out the animal in him!

  Juliet yelled, as Peter’s cock went thumping through her pussy muscles. Her insides convulsed around his length, as he overwhelmed her with his visceral passion. She gazed at his reflection, in awe of his strength, of his handsome face and almighty prick. His dick was longer than any she’d known, but it was the girth that truly excited her. Never before had her cunt been made to stretch so far. Never before had her cunt been fucked with such unrelenting speed and force.

  As Juliet’s convulsions reached a near-orgasmic pitch, Peter put his all into one last thrust. He withdrew his helmet to the entrance of her cunt, then hammered his full-length straight back home, splitting her right down the middle with the blistering force of his carnal lust. Her climax was instant! Juliet threw back her head and roared with delight, as the spasms in her pussy went out of control. She could feel Peter’s cockhead bulging inside her – the passionate thrust had made him climax, too. His dick was spitting out thick jets of spunk, which spurted into her orifice as forcefully as the leather belt had torn into her exposed cheeks.

  ‘Let that be a lesson to you,’ Peter said, still pumping his phallus back and forth. He could feel the orgasmic tension in Juliet’s pussy, so was grateful for the moisture dripping from her gash. The extra lubrication allowed him to keep on thrusting through her tensed up muscles. He watched her reflection in the windscreen, as he drained his balls inside her cunt. He could see the look of fevered satisfaction in her eyes.

  Peter tried again: ‘I said, ‘Let that be a lesson to you.’’ But once again Juliet failed to respond. Deep sighs of pleasure were falling from her lips, as her cunt muscles pulsed around Peter’s prick. Her orgasmic high was refusing to fade, since Peter had done such a perfect job of punishing her with his leather belt and, later, with his rock-hard prick. He had totally overwhelmed her with his masculine power, beating her into complete submission – just as she had hoped he would!

  With her fantasy fulfilled, Juliet felt an urge to turn and kiss her master, but her wrists were still fastened securely in place. He was still the boss. He was still in control. And Juliet liked being Peter’s bitch!

  So, had she learned her lesson? Would she come back the next day with the money she owed him? Or would she leave her purse at home again?

  Juliet already knew the answers to those questions, which is why her pussy was throbbing so hard. She hadn’t learned her lesson. She was such a bad girl. Perhaps the naughtiest of them all! It was going to take a lot more whippings to get the badness out of her system! But she’d found the man to deliver the lashes. Peter would sort her out!

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