Enslaved Chapter 29 free porn video

Several hours later that night, Havers returned his two charges to their bedroom in the slave quarters. He found it difficult to believe the evidence of his own eyes, for the skin of each was flawless again.
For a moment or two, Havers considered fucking Julia (his boss had given permission!) but being a little tired after a day of excitements and also rather drunk as well - he decided to postpone it until the morrow. Giving the girl’s bottom a slap, he advised her of ‘the treat’ to come then he staggered out of the room and back up to the house above, carefully locking the security door on the way.
Mustn’t forget that! Quentin had told him that, if he ever did, he would be sacked instantly.
Julia lay quiescently down on her bed. She had become used to being treated in that kind of humiliating fashion. Long ago she had learnt the uselessness of lying there burning with rage and hate.
That only made matters worse. Though those emotions were still there, deep down, it was better to keep them suppressed as best one could. To accept the degradation of one’s existence. To accept the fact that one was a slave. And that a slave was there for the service and pleasure of others.
It had been a long, hard road for Julia to arrive at such a mental and psychological condition. There had been many ‘breakdowns’ on the way, many ‘hold-ups’, many ‘accidents’. But she had got there in the end. That was something she would have considered quite impossible at the outset. That person who once was me - with pride, a stubborn will and a temper - does not exist any more, thought Julia as she lay there. I am someone quite different. Without pride (would she not display herself indecently at the snap of someone’s fingers?); without will (did she not obey instantly now?); without temper (was she not ever ready to grovel meekly at her Master’s feet?). Though I am still Julia, she said to herself, I am not that Julia of long ago. Now I am Julia the submissive slave girl. It was like being re-born.
Tomorrow, thought Julia, that pig will have me . . . and I shall have to do my utmost to please him. Just as I pleased my Master earlier. Then her mind went back to the time on the dildoe. A long, long hour of humiliation and frustration . . . before the final degradation.
How terrible it was to be brought to such peaks of sheer a****l lust! To be so overpowered by it that one became completely abandoned! Nothing more than a frenzied sex object!
And oh, reflected Julia with a sudden keen stab of bitterness, how they must love watching you in that state! For a few moments the suppressed rage and hate within her welled up. Then, shaken by a deep sob, she fought those emotions down again.
Suddenly, Julia felt a cool arm about her shoulders; then a soft smooth body. It was Melissa come to comfort her. Tears of self-pity came cascading from Julia’s eyes as the two girls clung tightly together, belly to belly, breasts to breasts. Then their mouths met in a long, gentle kiss. There was no sexual passion in that kiss. It was a kiss of love and understanding. No words needed to be spoken.
They were lost souls in a most terrible, unbelievably cruel and evil world.
“Most touching . . .” said Glenda with a smile. She had decided to take a final quick look at the TV screen before retiring.
Nearby, Quentin opened a pair of tired eyes.
“Rather like the Babes in the Wood,” he said after a few moments.
“Mmm . . .” nodded Glenda. “I wonder if they’re going to make love.”
“Shouldn’t think so,” said Quentin. “They’re not really like that, you know. Just have to pretend to be, when you want them.”
“I know that,” replied Glenda a shade impatiently. “That’s a large part of the fun of both of them. Feeling them perform so well, as if it were natural to them, which it isn’t. Perhaps they’ll grow to like it.”
“Possibly,” nodded Quentin. He rather enjoyed that idea.
“Do you know,” said Glenda musingly, “I haven’t laid a hand on either of them yet? Apart from the odd slap, I mean.”
“No . . . I suppose you haven’t” said Quentin, looking a shade startled. “There wasn’t much time on the ‘Paradise, was there? And now we’ve only just arrived. But that can be remedied . . .”
“Oh yes,” smiled Glenda, “that can be remedied. I think I’ll start with Julia.” She gazed at the shapely posterior and the long, smooth thighs and experienced a thrill of sadistic delight. For my amusement, she thought. Especially did Glenda like the look of the thighs.
They looked so white and soft. So tender.
“Your one-time girlfriend.” she continued. “Your mistress, if you prefer.”
Quentin shrugged. “But never my wife,” he said.
“Yes . . .” said Glenda, almost to herself, “I shall enjoy dealing with her.”
“Tomorrow?” asked Quentin.
“Tomorrow,” replied Glenda.
“Then I shall leave her entirely to you, my dear,” said Quentin.
“Melissa is quite capable of providing adequate amusement. Oh . . . and I must tell Havers. I promised Julia to him at some time tomorrow.”
Glenda Osman switched off the TV screen. She seemed indifferent to watch arrangements Quentin had made, or was going to make. Perhaps her mind was already too preoccupied with thoughts
of the morrow!
On the following morning, Glenda dressed herself with some care. She chose a simple, but most expensive gown. A Paris creation, mainly black but trimmed with gold and with a broad, gold belt.
Julia would know just how exclusive that gown was, reflected Glenda, recognising in me the pampered and extravagant wife who could indulge herself in such things. Funny to think that the girl had been kept stark naked for something over six months. Incredible that. Really never for a moment permitted a moment of womanly modesty. Always on display. Being a woman herself, Glenda could appreciate all the more how a woman must feel about that.
Glenda put on a pair of plain, black patent shoes with unusually high heels. Again, obviously expensive items. Then she put on three or four hefty diamond, emerald and ruby rings and added a final diamond cluster to her corsage.
Yes . . . thought Glenda as she studied herself at length in the mirror . . . I look the very epitome of a successful wife. Well caredfor, living in luxury, happy, care-free, fawned on by an indulgent husband. At exactly the opposite end of the scale to Julia!
With a final few flicks of a comb through her hair, Glenda left the room and made her way down to the slave quarters.
Her first visit was to the Punishment Room. Once there, she went over to the long bench along one wall upon which a vast array of corrective instruments were kept. Glenda already had a plan of how she was going to ‘deal’ with Julia. First the girl would be birched, entirely on her buttocks. Then she would be caned, entirely on her thighs. It was simply a matter of choosing the implements.
The birches were all kept in tall, iron canisters containing brine water and, as was only to be expected, were of varying sizes. Glenda examined the smallest . . . and dismissed it almost at once. It had four slim twigs, about two feet long, bound together at the handle end by means of a leather string. The twigs were pale green and whippy, softish on the exterior, hard underneath. In some places the thin bark had flaked away to reveal the white wood underneath.
Glenda replaced the birch and took another one out of the second canister. This one had eight similar twig-slivers. Better. In fact, twice as good!
Glenda considered. On this occasion . . . a first occasion . . . she wanted to be adequately severe, yet not too severe. She took the birch out of the third container and, as she expected, this one had twelve twig-slivers. These were rather longer, too. About two and a half feet. Obviously, the two other canisters contained progressively heavier birches . . . but Glenda felt she had gone just about far enough. She regarded the twelve, swishy green switches, trying to imaging what it would be like to have them fall across her own bar flesh. She shuddered. But it was a shudder quickly followed by a glow of cruel pleasure. Soon, Julia would not have to imagine!
Glenda moved on to where the rods and canes were lying . . . and here the selection was even larger and more bewildering. Having decided to use an ordinary willow cane, Glenda must have picked up half a dozen or more - testing them out by flexing and swishing them but still had not made up her mind. She moved a little further on and then her eye was caught by what she thought, at first, was a riding switch made of tightly-plaited white plastic.
Then, tied around the leather grip was something like a luggage label. Glenda recognised Miss Judith’s hand.
‘This whalebone rod is not exactly Julia’s favourite!’ read the brief note.
Glenda wondered why. The rod was very hard, yet very flexible.
Yes, it would hurt a great deal. A very great deal. Yet there were far more formidable rods in the armoury before her. Why this particular one then? Glenda, of course, was not to know that this was the rod which Miss Judith had regularly used whilst Julia was being taught to service Ahmed and Jason with her tongue. She must have writhed-under its searing bite literally scores and scores of times.
A little puzzled, but nevertheless pleased that her mind had been made up for her, Glenda decided upon the whalebone rod. If it is not exactly Julia’s favourite, it will do adequately, she thought, with a grim little smile. Oh those white thighs! Those long, tender white thighs!
Glenda carried both instruments from the Punishment Room and placed them on a table in the centre room of the slave quarters.
Somehow she did not wish the stark practicality of the Punishment Room but preferred ordinary, comfortable surroundings. The contrast pleased her. Then she entered the girls’ bedroom.
Julia was alone and at once knelt erect.
“Where’s Melissa?” demanded Glenda.
“With . . . with my Master, Mistress,” replied Julia at once.
“Don’t call me ‘Mistress’ in future,” said Glenda sharply. “It is a word which had connotations I do not care for! You will call me ‘Ma’am’. Got it?”
“Yes . . . Ma’am . . .” replied Julia at once.
She had been waiting with some apprehension ever since Melissa had been taken away by Quentin - with Havers in attendance – to the Playroom. Why had she not been taken with her? Poor Melissa.
She would have to service both those pigs. One at a time was bad enough. What would be happening at that moment? Her mind shrank away. (Melissa, in fact, was having to use her mouth and tongue - alternately on Quentin and Havers - in a variety of disgusting ways).
“I’ve got a bone to pick with you, my girl . . .” Glenda’s harsh voice broke in on Julia’s mental wandering.
“Yes, Ma’am?” she said meekly.
Glenda stepped up close to the girl and stared into her eyes.
Julia flinched.
“You were once the Mistress of my husband, I believe?”
Julia’s features twitched. “Yes . . . Ma’am . . .”
“He showered worldly goods upon you. He pampered you. He trusted you.”
Julia flinched again. “Y-Yes . . . M-ma’am . . .”she said in a whisper.
“For that deceit upon a fine and generous man . . . and upon my husband . . . I am going to birch you, Julia.”
The full mouth quivered, a tie in one cheek flicked nervously. What have I not suffered already for that deceit, thought Julia? For that stupid deceit. Far, far too much. Beyond all reason. Yet, it seemed, her suffering for it was never to be over.
“Do you not think that you deserve to be birched for such behaviour . . . arrogant behaviour, in my view . . . Julia?”
“Y-yes, Ma’am . . .”Another whisper.
“Quentin is my husband,” continued Glenda in the tones of some outraged suburban matron, “and he is a good and generous man. Would be doing less than my duty if I did not stand by him. Protect him. And see that those who harm him suffer for it. Is that not so?”
The hypocrisy of these words was not lost upon either women!
“Yes, Ma’am,” said Julia softly. She was beginning to steel herself for what she now realised was going to be a cruel ordeal at Glenda’s hands. Cruel both physically and mentally. She looked at
this well-groomed, chicly-clad woman . . . this woman who had everything she once had had . . . and she hated her.
Perhaps that hatred flashed momentarily in her eyes, for Glenda smiled. What Heaven it was to have such power! Not only today . . . but any day she wished in the future.
“We will go into the main room, Julia,” she said. Then she turned on her heel and walked out. Julia followed with a kind of stately grace . . . her hands still clasped on top of her head. Oh God have mercy on me, she said to herself, as she had done thousands of times before.
Poor Julia!
It was a plea that seemed to go perpetually unheard!
On a table lay the birch and the whalebone rod. Julia’s eyes flickered over them in dread and then flickered away. She saw, on the far side of the room, the two black dildoes standing erect, still fastened to the ornate chairs. It seemed as if they were likely to remain there permanently.
Coolly, unhurriedly, Glenda looked around the room. She was considering the best place for Julia to receive her birching.
There, covered in fluffy purple velvet, was an Edwardian chaise longue. Its curved back-end and long-stretching s**t looked most inviting. For what Glenda had in mind. The old and the new would combine to create a poem of pain!
“Julia . . . place yourself over the end of this piece of furniture.
Originally, it was designed for lovers. So it seems appropriate.”
Julia turned to the rococco-like couch. She had once owned one very similar in appearance which had stood in her dressing room. Except that it had been covered in green velvet, not purple. Also,
she had, as she now recalled, enjoyed some excitingly seductive moments upon it. That was when she had been a woman of allure, in her own right . . .
Quaking inwardly, but still maintaining remarkable poise, Julia moved to the chaise longue and bent over its end. She placed her hands flat upon its seat. With the greatest delight, Glenda looked upon the naked curve of her victim’s hindquarters. So creamy-white, so vulnerable! Hers to do with as she wished! The birch, still glistening faintly with water-drops, lay silent and menacing upon the table.
Julia was suddenly shaken by a deep sob . . . Glenda smiled, eyes almost distant. She was trying to put herself in Julia’s place.
Thinking of what it must be like. With all the memories of the past.
Yet now with this hideous present. Glenda tried . . . but found it impossible to imagine herself where Julia was. Her mind could not grasp it; or would not. It was something beyond imaginative comprehension.
Yet it was something which Julia was having to endure!
After a little searching, Glenda found some velvet cords in the drawer of the of one of the numerous cabinets around the room. The same velvet colour as the chaise longue. Unhurriedly, she used the cords to secure Julia’s thighs to the legs at one end of the couch . . . then she corded her wrists and fastened the cords to the legs at the other end of the couch. Thus Julia’s arms were at full stretch . . . her back flat . . . her hindquarters up-curving. Vulnerable to anything which might be done to her.
Again Julia was suddenly shaken by a deep sob . . . The injustice and cruelty of the world in which she found herself was quite beyond belief. Yet it was an actual world. Once in which she was forced to exist.
“Mercy . . . mercy, Ma’am . . . I have already suffered . . . beyond . . . ooh . . . beyond anything . . . y-you could imagine. . .”
The words came out, controlled and soft. As far as Julia was concerned, they came out involuntarily. It might as well have been someone else speaking the words. They were words which added greatly to Glenda’s pleasure . . . and her smile was broad and happy. It was going to be the purest joy to flay this young woman’s helpless bottom!
“Now, Julia,” she said, as if the girl had not spoken, “I do not intend to be too severe with you. Though, in duty bound, I should be. A dozen will suffice, I think . . .”
Twelve times twelve slivers!
One hundred and forty four slivers of blazing pain! Glenda’s small teeth were suddenly bared, vixen-like. Julia’s nates contracted convulsively.
“M-Mercy . . . ooohhh . . . m-mercy . . .” came the plaintive plea.
“You admit you were my husband’s Mistress, girl?”
“Y-Yes . . . oh . . . yes, Ma’am . . .”
“For how long?”
“F-For . . . a year, Ma’am . . . maybe . . . a little more . . .”
“And, during that time, whilst under his protection, you deceived him?”
“Oohh . . . yes . . . Ma’am . . .”
The Birch came slashing down with all the force that Glenda’s right arm could command. Splaying out, twelve individual whippy twigs streaked agonisedly across Julia’s buttock flesh. A howl of torment erupted from the girl and she threshed frantically over the end of the couch.
“You deceitful harlot!” Glenda almost shrieked the words. It was as if she had been personally harmed by Julia’s peccadilloes. She gazed with almost lustful satisfaction upon the pink-red tracery of stripes which she had instantly raised over her victim’s flesh. She saw that flesh twitch and quiver . . . could but guess what torment was being endured.
“How many lovers? How many did you deceive my husband with?” came the rasping query.
“Ugh . . . uurf . . . th-three . . . M-Ma’am . . .”
Again the birch came slashing down, in almost precisely the same area.
“Liar!” shrieked Glenda.
Julia shrieked too, but for a different reason. The pain of those multiple, slashing twigs was atrocious.
“Liar!” yelled Glenda once more. “How many?”
“Th-Three . . . Ma’am . . . three . . . I swear . . .”
Julia’s words were cut off by her shriek of agony as the birch descended for the third time. Again in the same area, right in the fullness of her curving bottom.
“Liar!” cried Glenda yet again. “I was told five. By my husband. I believe him rather than you.”
“Ma’am . . . I swear . . . three . . .” began Julia.
And again the slashing birch twigs contorted her in gaspingshrieking pain.
“You lie . . . it was five . . . say it was five!” bellowed Glenda.
“Admit, you whore . . . admit it was five!”
Already, where one thin weal overlaid or crossed another, the flesh -Was empurpling. Glenda recalled Quentin’s phrase about ‘Taking the skin off’ Julia’s bottom.’ That was what she was doing.
“Mff . . . mmmf . . . y-yes, Ma’am . . . f-five . . . then . . . although . . .”
“Ahh so you admit to five, you trollop?”
“Y-Yes . . . Ma’am . . .” It was almost a whine. A whine from a whipped cur.
“So you also admit that you lied to me originally?”
A pause . . . a sobbing pause . . .
“Y-Yes, Ma’am . . .”
“Well, I’ll deal with that later. Meanwhile, does not your admission reveal you as a depraved and lecherous woman?” Another pause . . . another sobbing pause.
“I . . . I s-suppose . . .”
“Suppose, harlot?”
“I . . . I m-mean . . . yes . . . yes . . . I suppose . . .”
“There is no supposing about it, you trollop. You had my husband and, during that year, you had five other lovers. How disgusting! Are you not a trollop? Admit it!”
The birch slashed down for the fifth time before Julia had a chance to admit it so, instead, a shriek of torment bellowed from her gaping mouth.
“Admit it!” repeated Glenda when the cacophony of sound had died.
“I . . . ahh . . . I . . . a-admit . . . hhhaaa . . .” it gasped Julia.
“Admit you are a trollop . . . say it . . .”
“I . . . hhaa . . . I . . . a-am . . . aaah . . . am a . . . t-trollop . . . Ma’am . . .”
“Fucked by five different men, while you were my husband’s Mistress?”
Julia’s mouth was a curved-down letter-box of despairing horror.
“Yer . . . yer . . . ess . . . Ma’am . . . I . . . I’m s-sorry . . . so s-sorry, Ma’am . . .”
“Too late to be sorry,” snapped Glenda.
“Mmmfff . . . ugh . . . mmmfff . . . u-u-ugh . . .” moaned Julia.
“I suppose you enjoyed being fucked by all these men?” asked Glenda.
Julia’s head shook. “Oh no . . . no . . . Ma’am . . .” she said.
Instantly the birch slashed down across her buttocks for the sixth time.
“You’re lying to me again!” cried Glenda.
“No . . . ooooooo!” shrieked Julia in despair.
“Yes you are . . .”
“No . . . NO . . . OOOO . . . I s-swear, Ma’am . . . it . . . it wasn’t llike that . . .”
Glenda’s mouth twisted contemptuously. “What was it like then?” she demanded. “Tell me . . . tell me . . . tell me, trollop . . .”
Julia, still sobbing, fought to find coherent words. “N-Not like that . . .” she could be heard saying. “I . . . I was in l-love with one .
. .” A flurry of sobbing and tears. “And . . . and the others w-were . . .just n-nothing . . . really . . .”
Glenda laughed. “Nothing!” she said. “Nothing, eh? So . . . five different cocks up you regularly was nothing, was it? While, all the time, my husband was keeping you. And trusting you.”
“I . . . I didn’t mean . . . m-mean it l-like t-that, Ma’am . . .”
“Like what then, you whore?”
Glenda was similar to some court prosecutor. Probing relentlessly.
“I . . . ahh . . . I . . . don’t know . . . Ma’am . . . I . . . I’ll never do it again . . . Ma’am . . .” whined Julia pathetically.
Glenda laughed. And this time she laughed more loudly. “No . . . you certainly won’t do it again. From now on, you will be fucked when other people decide. Not when you want it. Right?”
“Mmmff . . . mmmfff . . . yer . . . ess . . .” Ma’am . . .”Just how right that was, Julia only knew full well!
“So, there we have you,” resumed Glenda, “little Miss Hot-Pants, leaping into bed with all and sundry . . . and two-timing my dear Quentin without a second thought. My God, girl, if ever a girl deserved birching, you do!”
Sssswwweeee . . . sssslllllaaaasssssshhhhhh!
“AAAAAGGGHHI-IHH . . . AAAAIIIIEEEEEE! AAAAHHH”
Again twelve whippy slivers of searing pain blazed across Julia’s quaking bottom. She had, of course, been birched before. But the special ‘personal’ character of this birching made it particularly unendurable.
Sssswweeee . . . ssslllaaassshhhhh!
“Squirm then . . . squirm, you randy bitch . . . just as you did when those cocks were up you!”
Glenda’s eyes were alight with sadistic lust. Never before could she remember enjoying herself quite so much . . . outside an orgasm, that is. How divine it was to make this young woman shriek and writhe in agony . . . all for something quite trivial, done long ago. Something which any healthy young woman might have done.
It really did give one the greatest pleasure to exact retribution. Especially when it wasn’t called for!
“Are you sorry now?”
“Yes . . . ooohhh . . . yes . . . Ma’am . . . I b-beg you p-pardon . . . I truly beg you pardon . . .”
“And that of your Master?”
“Ok . . . ooohhh . . . yes . . . Ma’am . . . I . . . I h-have already bbegged his pardon . . . a . . . a . . . t-thousand timer, I’m sure . . .”
Sssswwweee . . . ssllllaaassssshhhhhhhh!
“I should think so too!”
“Yyyyaaaaiiieeee . . . aaaaaaaahhhhhhh!”
Three strokes to go, said Glenda to herself as she looked down at Julia’s squirming bottom. A bottom that was now virtually completely covered in thin red weals. Or perhaps it would have been more truthful to say, red-purple weals. Certainly there was now very little white flesh to be seen on the buttocks themselves. How vividly the creamy-white thighs contrasted! every stroke on that tenderised flesh from now on, thought Glenda, will be a triple-torment compared to when I started.
She heard Julia weeping unrestrainedly, yet felt no pity.
She felt only a pleasure which is granted to but a few.
“What are you, Julia?”
“A . . . a trollop . . . Ma’am . . .” Julia groaned horribly, nates suddenly clenching again in dread apprehension.
“A trollop who deserves to be birched?”
“Yes . . . oh yes . . . Ma’am . . . a trollop who d-deserves . . . to . . . to be birched . . .”
“Frequently?”
“Mmmfff . . . uuughhh . . . y-ugh . . . ess . . . Ma’am . . .”
“I think I can arrange that!”
Sssswwweeee . . . sssslllllaaaasssssshhhhhh!
“AAAAAGGGHHHHH . . . AAAAIIIIEEEEEE! . . . AAAAHHH . . . MERCY . . . MERCEEEEEEEE!!”
Only slowly did the awful sounds subside in volume. Glenda waited patiently. She was faintly surprised that one so experienced as Julia found the birch so painful. But obviously she did. But then, perhaps if one looked at the lacerated state of the girl’s flesh, one should not be so surprised!
“Do you know, Julia?” enquired Glenda at last, “that, in Victorian days, young women of your age, when sent to a Reform School, could get as many as twenty four strokes of the birch just for stealing a few shillings?”
Julia’s nates twitched, maybe in sympathy for those sufferers long agony. “No . . . n-no . . . Ma’am . . . I . . . mmmfff . . . d-didn’t know . . .”
“And it was often done in front of the Magistrates who had sentenced them. So, by comparison, you’re lucky really, aren’t you my girl? We are in private, you’re only getting twelve strokes and, at least, instead of stealing, you had the pleasure of being fucked. So aren’t you lucky, Julia?”
“Mmmff . . . ugh . . . y-er . . . ess . . . Ma’am . . .”
Glenda smiled broadly. How delightful to hear someone in Julia’s situation stating they were lucky!
“That’s right . . . you’re lucky!”
The deadly birch came slashing down for the eleventh time, the twigs splaying and biting. Each one doing its agonising work at precisely the same moment.
No wonder Julia shrieked dementedly . . . no wonder she writhed with such frantic fervour!
Remorselessly, Glenda measured her victim for the twelfth and final stroke.
Up went her arm . . .
Down it came with all the force at her command . . .
Sssswwweeeee . . . sssllllaaassssshhhh!
Julia’s curvaceous bottom writhed frenziedly and another awful gasping howl was torn from her lungs. Then her head slumped down on to the seat of the chaise longue and, with tears pouring down her cheeks, she sobbed and moaned unrestrainedly. Once more she had been mercilessly flogged for no real reason.
No . . . not quite true.
For, in her heart, the wretched Julia was aware that the real reason she had been birched, until it seemed that her flesh had had a fire lit upon it, was simply for Glenda’s amusement. For the woman’s pleasure. Her sadistic pleasure.
And that made her sufferings all the worse.
It was a woman-to-woman affair. The one all powerful, the other quite helpless. Each aware, as a woman particularly, of how the other must be feeling.
Julia went on sobbing. Quite, quite defeated. She knew she would do anything the woman demanded. Climb up the wall even, if she possibly could. She would certainly make the attempt. Yes . . . attempt the impossible. Because she was a beaten slave, flogged into a state of the most complete submissiveness.
Glenda’s eyes remained fastened on Julia’s lacerated bottom, seeing the constant twitching and quivering of the tormented flesh. So that is what a woman who has been birched looks like, she thought.
She had never seen the sight before. But I wonder what it feels like, she asked herself, with that inner glow of surging sadism. She lis tened happily as Julia’s sobs continued to subside but slowly.
“Have you anything to say, Julia?” demanded Glenda after a couple of minutes or so.
“Mmmff . . . ugh . . . n-no . . . M-ma’am . . .” answered Julia in a choking voice.
“You have, you know!” said Glenda in a voice with an edge to it.
Julia searched her bemused brain . . . which was largely taken up in absorbing pain. What was she supposed to say? Ah yes . . .
“I . . . ahh . . . I . . . Ma’am . . . I am a t-trollop . . . Ma’am . . . a trollop who . . . d-deserves . . . to be . . . b-birched . . .” croaked Julia.
“That’s right, Julia,” said Glenda, a happy smile breaking out over her features. “But I think we agreed to add the word ‘frequently’, did we not?”
“I am . . . am a trollop . . . aahh . . . oh . . . who deserves to be birched . . . f-frequently, Ma’am . . .”
“That’s it, Julia . . . absolutely right this time!”
Julia burst into a fresh flood of tears. She was getting near the end of her tether, both physically and mentally. She would have cracked long before but for the daily stimulant injections she was receiving.
“Kiss it!” commanded Glenda, laying the mass of green twigs on the couch beside Julia’s half-turned face. “Kiss the birch I have just had the greatest pleasure in laying across your backside, girl!”
Julia’s mouth pressed and pressed again to the supple slivers, many of which, glinting white, showed the plain wood, the thin outer bark having been stripped by reason of their action upon Julia’s flesh.
It was incredible, thought Julia, as she went on kissing, that such simple, natural things could bring such pain!
“That will do,” said Glenda at last. She reckoned she had extracted the last ounce of her dominance over Julia out of that first part of ‘dealing’ with her. “Now I’m going to leave you there for half an hour or so. To reflect upon your sins, trollop. To reflect upon the fact that it would have been far preferable not to deceive my dear husband. Then, when I return, I shall complete your punishment.
And, Julia, it will be rather more severe than I originally intended since you lied to me . . .”
“Ahh . . . no . . . oooo . . . have mercy! Pity me, Ma’am . . . have pity on me!”
Julia’s plea was pathetically moving . . . yet it left Glenda unmoved.
Except insofar as it added to her pleasure. As she turned on her heel and left the room, she could hear Julia beginning to weep hysterically.