Sold, Packaged, and Shipped

Chapter 22: Sharon Whips Them

Chapter 22: Sharon Whips Them

They were left alone until almost dinnertime. It was good to rest after the ordeal of their first real whipping. Their bodies hurt, as was to be expected when the flesh is so abused. They talked some but it was hard to concentrate on most subjects when your body is sore and aching. Melinda’s breasts especially hurt where they were pressed into the leather covering of the bench. But the worse ache was between her legs where their Master had so cruelly whipped her. Darlene said that her pussy hurt also, but Melinda was of the opinion – and rightly so – that hers had suffered more. Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org exclusive © material.

When the light came, Melinda was surprised to realize that she had fallen asleep. Susan came walking around in front of the benches, her high heels clicking on the concrete floor. She was still wearing that black leather catsuit but had added an ominous touch: a whip coiled and hanging from her belt. There was a smile on her face.

“You two have now been whipped by the Master. From now on I can use the whip to punish you as needed. And I’m sure you two will both need a lot of punishing.” She almost purred as she said that. “You think that your bottoms hurt now,” she continued, “you just wait until I get to them. Master is a nice guy but he really doesn’t realize how much a woman’s ass can take. Or her breasts, for that matter. Angus says that you were whipped across the breasts. I love to whip a woman’s breasts. I love to make a woman scream.”

She was either deliberately laying it on thick to scare them or she really was a world-class sadist.

Calmly, she removed the whip from her belt, uncoiled it and let the end trail down to the floor. It was a little shorter than the whip Reggie had used but still looked extremely evil. Both of the women were very much aware of how vulnerable they were, strapped down to those benches, their bare bottoms sticking up.

Susan moved to the side of Melinda’s bench. The frightened girl followed her with her eyes as she positioned herself just the right distance from that bare bottom for a good swing. Then her arm went back – slowly because Susan knew Melinda was watching. When the arm came overhead and down, it was much quicker. The leather landed squarely on the two globes with a loud smack. Melinda screamed; she could not help herself. Pain burst anew on her rear and burned brightly. Her body jerked within the straps, and her taped arms lifted an inch then fell back down. Her upper body shook within the tight grasp of the leather straps, both in reaction to the pain and in anger.

Melinda could not see it, but Susan could and was enjoying the fresh red line that was forming across both cheeks atop the whip marks left there by their Master. This fresh stroke was becoming nicely swollen and red. Susan knew that the welt left by the whip would hurt for a few days, and then it would be another few days before it faded away. By then, she fully expected to be adding many new whip marks over it.

On the other bench, Darlene grimaced and her body went tense as she saw her daughter react to the fresh pain. She could almost feel it herself. Which was not surprising since her bottom wore a dozen relatively fresh whip marks and was still very sore.

Susan licked her lips. Such a beautiful sound a woman in pain makes. The agony in that scream was something she could listen to all day. And to see the muscles of the beautiful young body tense against the straps and tape was pure ambrosia.

Long ago, when Susan was much younger, she had been tied down to a bed and beaten by a drunken stepfather who used a belt on her, the buckle doing most of the damage. The pain had been incredible and had impressed itself upon her psyche so intensely that it never really left. A part of her knew exactly how Melinda felt when that leather whip descended and struck her flesh. She knew the pain and felt it with the younger girl. But in the twisted way of the human mind, it was something that Susan craved. She savored it, wallowed in it when she could, and drank deeply of that pain of other women.

To say that it satisfied something in her would be a terrible understatement. She craved it more than an addict craved drugs.

Twice more she slashed the whip across Melinda’s bottom; twice more listened to the scream of pain, and twice more felt herself overflowing with the beauty of it.

Had it not been for the Master and her husband, Angus, she might have let free reign to her feelings and slashed that wonderfully smooth flesh until it was all swollen and torn and bleeding. A part of her mind told her that Angus would soon be there, following the screams if for no other reason. She forced her whip hand to cease abusing the quivering ass before her.

Reluctantly, she turned to the other woman bound down to the bench and considered that bottom. It was marked up, yes, but nowhere as greatly as Melinda’s. The Master had struck that ass with more force than Darlene’s and Susan had added to it just now. Drawing back her arm, she applied a vicious cut across Darlene’s ass. The blow had been unexpected because Darlene was intent upon Melinda’s suffering. She cried out loudly, and her body jerked and went tense as Melinda had. Susan breathed deeply as if to suck in the pain floating in the air of that dungeon. It was an incredible feeling sweeping over her, as intense as a sexual orgasm, and not unlike it in a way.

“Enough!” came a voice from the doorway.