{"loaderData":{"4":{"story":{"id":"5e50df42-a72b-4456-8314-de62e8de6d90","seriesId":null,"seriesName":null,"currentUserId":"00000000-0000-0000-0000-000000000000","added":"2026-01-20T08:10:14.043Z","title":"The Whipping Post","slug":"the-whipping-post","shortId":"sNX0fuMr","authorNote":"This is a true account about my experience of being whipped, Paddled, Caned and tortured when I was aged 19 and at university. ","disclaimer":null,"type":"Short","paidUrl":null,"synopsis":"I agree aged 19 to be whipped and tortured by some university studs!","partCount":1,"parts":[{"partId":"9cfcfdaf-bb2d-47b1-99c5-7e0b9dfb844b","title":"How I became a 19 year old Whipping Post","summary":"The first time I ever felt the tingle of a whip across my body was when I was just turning nineteen ","wordCount":7270,"readTime":36,"number":1,"state":"Published"}],"currentPart":1,"contentTitle":"How I became a 19 year old Whipping Post","content":"

The first time I ever felt the tingle of a whip across my body was when I was just turning nineteen and at University. Before I had left Scotland to go away to continue my studies, my two friends Andy and Nick and I had experimented in a very rough and ready way with various forms of very basic bondage. These revolved around some very uncomfortable blue nylon ropes, occasional cable ties, and a homemade flogger made from part of a broom handle, with lengths of the dreadful blue rope crudely attached to one end.

At University, one young man from the Midlands area was a little more flush with money than the rest of us, even renting his own house near the campus, where occasionally some of us were invited to socialise. He had become part of my friendship group and, one day, informed me that he had managed to purchase a Bullwhip and asked if I would be willing to let him try it out on me. To be honest, I had no real idea what a Bullwhip was back then and just agreed as I thought it would be a bit of extra fun.

The day I turned up at his house, I decided to wear what I now consider a hideous lime-green knee-length dress. I chose this because the zip was at the back, running from the collar to my buttocks. I had foolishly presumed that this would be zipped down and the dress lowered off my arms to expose my back, but be left covering my bum. It seemed very suitable.

As always, we had a coffee and enjoyed a chat while a few other friends joined us for the proceedings. Eventually, I accompanied my friend up to the spare room in his house, which was devoid of furniture. He had placed large eyelet hooks in four places in the wall: two almost at ceiling height, about five feet apart, and two just above the skirting board, directly below the two higher ones.

Once I had been shown these to which it was apparent I was going to be tied, I was shown the whip. At first, I thought it was a curled-up snake, as it was brought in, lying upon my friend's hand. Then I noticed it was a series of long leather thongs woven together to form a thick handle end and a narrow whip end. I then watched, I confess in some trepidation, as the power of the whip was demonstrated on the wall. For the first time, I shivered and wondered if I was doing the right thing in allowing it to be used against my skin.

Someone produced some delightfully soft cotton ropes, and I was asked if I was ready to get undressed. I was a little surprised at this, as I was, as explained, just expecting my dress to be undone and lowered to my waist. I was told, however, that it would be much more fun all around if I were totally naked. There were about fifteen young men and a couple of girlfriends who had joined the room by now. They all wanted to see the exhibition of my first whipping.

After a lot of persuasion, I finally agreed to be whipped naked. Tony gave me the option of removing my clothes in the privacy of the bathroom or in front of the gathered crowd. I suggested that if I were to be naked, those watching should prepare me in such a way.

The previous year, I discovered that one of the best ways of getting my juices to flow was to have a guy remove my clothes for me. I had found that having my underwear taken off aroused whatever desire was lurking inside me at the time. There was, surprisingly, no shortage of volunteers to perform this task. Once I was naked, the ropes were bound, with care, around my wrists and ankles, and the young men led me across to the far wall where the hooks were strategically placed.

I faced the wall as my arms were pulled up and out above my head, then secured to the hooks by two guys standing on chairs. Next, I spread my legs so that the ropes around my ankles could also be made fast in the lower hooks. I was now in a spread eagle position, facing the wall and ready for my first whipping session.

The owner of this new implement of torture told me that he would whip me five times across my back as he felt that any more would be too painful for me to bear. I remember distinctly thinking that five was not many. I could hear the onlookers shuffling back out of the way as my Dom of the day began getting ready.

I tensed, pulling on the ropes, in expectation of what lay ahead. Then I heard a whoosh as the whip flew through the air and struck the wall to my right with a crack. I just had time to wonder why Tony had hit the wall and not my prone and exposed back when a sudden, indescribable pain tore through my quivering body, and I screamed out in both shock and surprise.

My head must have jerked back violently as I strained hard upon the ropes holding me in position. The next thing I knew was that my head hit the wall pretty hard, not hard enough to knock me out, but enough for me to see stars! I now had an excruciating back and a very sore head with a bump rapidly appearing upon my forehead.

The guys saw my predicament and, without waiting, undid the ropes securing me and helped me to sit down, even kindly covering me with a sheet. One ran out of the house to get some paracetamol, knowing that I would have a headache from the crack I had given myself.

Tony, my friend with the whip, was all contrary and upset about what had happened, as I guess we all were. I could feel the egg growing bigger on my head by the minute.

Thankfully, the young man who had run for the tablets had the presence of mind to obtain some cream for bumps and bruises. It was applied as soon as he returned.

One of the lads berated Tony about the positioning of the hooks, telling him it was obvious what was likely to happen. Others pointed out that he had not said anything before I had banged my head! Another added that Tony should have watched the whipping scene from 'The Story of O.' He pointed out that 'O' was not against a wall but in the centre of the room, allowing her to swing.

The whole thing was getting a bit out of hand. There were accusations and recriminations. I felt a little too 'out of it' to offer any sensible counsel on the matter. Thankfully, however, things calmed down, and I remember three or four lads talking to Tony about the best positions to place the hooks in to avoid any further accidents.

It was the following Saturday that we attempted the event once again. When I entered the room, which was about 20 feet square and situated in an old Victorian terrace house, I noticed that the ceiling hooks had been moved. They were now about four feet off the wall. The lower ones had been placed horizontally in line, but at the bottom of the side walls.

This time, I knew what to expect and so harboured no reservations, unlike the previous week, to retain any semblance of modesty. I knew I would be naked. From the one stroke of the whip that I had received the week before, I also knew that this would not just be a light whipping that would be uncomfortable for a few minutes, as my friends in Scotland had done to me. On the contrary, I knew it would be pretty painful and that I needed to grit my teeth and be mentally prepared after agreeing to participate.

I was stripped naked. I enjoyed the thrill as the men confiscated my underwear, leaving me exposed to the gaze of all in the room. I had to do a little twirl so all could see my naked form, front and back.

The soft cotton ropes were bound to my wrists and ankles. I was manoeuvred into position and tied to the hooks, securing me in a spread-eagle position.

This time, Tony asked if I wished to wear a blindfold, an offer I felt was a good idea to accept. I took it because, as I was suspended further into the room, I looked directly into the faces of some of the male students who had come to watch. The previous week, all I had seen was a wall. The blindfold was applied, and I tensed, waiting for what I now knew would be the sharp sting of the whip across my back.

I heard the whoosh of the whip and felt it strike just below my shoulder blades and the tip flicking around under my armpit to catch the side of my right breast. The searing pain was like someone dragging a knife across my back. I let out a fearful scream of pain that silenced the hubbub of background chatter that had been taking place.

\"Better gag her,\" Tony suggested, \"Before the neighbours come calling, wondering what we are doing.\"

My knickers were stuffed into my mouth, and from somewhere, someone produced a roll of rhino tape that sealed my mouth and contents shut. A silence descended, and again I tensed in anticipation of the leather whip making contact with my prone back.

This time it was lower, striking my bum right across both cheeks. Again, I tried to jump; however, bound as I was, I ended up swinging free on the ropes, securing me. I tried to scream, but just a muffled noise seemed to penetrate my very efficient gag.

I held my breath for the next strike as the whip moved across me from lower left to upper right, stinging like crazy as it hit. Once again, my gag did its work and stifled my screams. Tony kindly checked on my well-being and asked if I was okay for another two strikes. I was determined that I would be and nodded my acquiescence.

Again, there was a whoosh, and the sharp pain as leather struck exposed skin. Yet again, that stifled cry of agony from the willing yet suffering submissive.

There was some delay before I heard the now-familiar sound of the whip as it snaked once more towards my aching back. 'Crack,' it struck home just around my midriff, the end curving round to leave a red line pointing almost directly towards my navel.

I confess I was delighted to be unbound and remove the blindfold. Someone held up a long mirror so I could see my back. Five deep red throbbing marks ran across it from left to right, wrapping around to the front of my body. They were stinging, throbbing, and aching all at once.

I was delighted to have accomplished my first proper session under a BDSM whip. I was even more surprised when I received a round of applause from those who had watched the proceedings. More was to follow.

It would have been about a month later when Tony asked if I was happy to try some more BDSM with him and a few friends. I discovered it was using other types of corporal punishment on me. He informed me that he now had other punishment items that he would like a victim to try.

After due consideration, I agreed and arrived at his house as arranged a week later. Boy, did he have some equipment? A flexible cane for my bottom, a riding crop with a large leather end for my tits, plus a tawse - a nasty Scottish device made from leather slit down the middle and a handle. He also had a leather paddle, a soft, supple brown belt and a proper leather flogger. It was some collection, and he wanted to practice with them all on me!

Once again, his friends were in attendance, and as before, they took great delight in stripping me naked. I then stood before them as they watched what Tony had in mind. He spoke to me before he did anything, \"Rachel, all you have to do is yell stop, and I will stop. This is not as we did the other week, where you took five strokes. If anything is too much for you, we stop. Understand?\"

I nodded and said, rather meekly, \"Yes, thank you.\"

I allowed the soft cotton ropes to be secured once again to my wrists and ankles. I took up my place in the spread-eagle position between the hooks. No place for any modesty as about ten young men all ogled at my vulnerable body. This time, no one offered me a blindfold.

First, Tony flicked the leather end of the riding crop gently across and around each of my nipples. Of course, this had the effect of making them quite erect. Once they were how he wanted them, he flicked the crop down hard across my left breast, catching the erect nipple perfectly. The pain that shot through me made me attempt to stand back, bound though my legs were. I was held secure by my bonds. A few seconds later, I saw his hand move quickly and before I had time to react, my right breast filled with pain that seemed to shoot through every nerve of my body. I shouted out in sheer shock. \"Stop! That's enough for my breasts.\"

Once Tony and a couple of other interested men had checked on me, it was time for the cane on my bottom. This implement was not a solid, hard, long piece of wood, but a flexible affair, similar to a three-foot reed. As it had lots of give, I could see it would have plenty of sting when it met my bare bum. It did!

I did not hear any noise but felt a stabbing pain in my bum as his cane made its first contact. I had determined that, as I had only managed two hits on my breasts, I was going to make up with the cane and endure five. It was not to be! After the second hard stroke, I knew that three was my limit as tears built up in my eyes.

\"Stop!\" I called out after the third whack of my pristine and pert bum, \"Enough.\"

After another check to make sure I was okay, Tony took up the flogger for my back. That was much more manageable, even when Tony had built up to full power on about stroke eight; however, by around his fifteenth swing at my back, I knew I had had enough and once again called out, \"Stop.\"

Tony was as good as his word and stopped every time I asked, for which I was thankful. This gave me confidence not just in Him but in others who have used me through the years. I know the majority will indeed respect my limits.

\"Just one more,\" Tony commented as he walked around me surveying his work, most of which I was unable to see but could undoubtedly feel across my back, bum and on my nipples. \"I'll use the belt between your legs on your cunt, okay?\"

\"Won't that hurt?\" I questioned stupidly.

There was a chuckle from all the guys in the room. The majority were standing, holding their very hard and erect manhood in their hands and stroking them almost lovingly.

I realised as soon as I had said it that it was a stupid statement.

\"I think it might,\" Tony said, smiling at me and seeing my great embarrassment. \"But don't worry, Rachel. You say the word, and I stop just as before.\"

He ordered my legs pulled further apart, and this involved quite a bit of readjusting of the ropes before he was satisfied. When they had finished, my legs were so far apart that most of my arm suspended above me carried most of my weight.

He took up a position that I thought was strange behind me. I quickly realised why when the belt suddenly swung up between my open legs, catching my pussy and tummy right up to my navel. I was not sure what hurt most, my belly or my navel. I let out a cry of shock more than pain, and before I knew it, the belt returned. His aim was slightly off this time as he caught the inside of my right thigh before the belt reached its intended target. This naturally enough slowed its speed before reaching my exposed pussy.

The fifth swing brought me to the point once again that enough was enough, and once again I cried, “Stop!”

Now I really was stinging all over. Just as a few weeks before, the mirror was produced, and I could see my bum with its three distinct red lines crossing it, and my back looked like it had a severe case of sunburn. Someone had thoughtfully brought a tube of E45 cream, and after being released from my bonds, there was no shortage of help in applying this to my back, bum and pussy. I confess that lying naked on a bed and having cream rubbed into my sore parts was a very satisfactory end to that afternoon.

It was clear that Tony was happy, although he did casually comment, \"I thought that you would have managed more all-round, Rachel.\" I confess that I had thought the same, but had been taken aback by the brutality of the pain his various implements had caused.

The more I thought about this, the more I felt that I needed to challenge myself to receive more than I had that first time. I confessed this to a female friend who had known what I was doing with Tony and his friends. The next day, she came to me with a suggestion.

\"Why don't you play a game with Tony and his mates?\" she suggested brightly.

\"In what way?\"

\"Well, I was thinking of you writing out on several sheets of paper various forfeits, each with differing amounts of whipping on various parts of your body. Then, you place all the pieces of paper in a glass jar and pull one out. Whatever it says, you allow the boys to do.\"

She wrote down what she meant just so that I was clear: -

Bull whip on back 5

Cane on Bum 4

Flogging of Tits 15

Paddle on Bum 5

Tawse on Pussy 1

\"Just change the numbers up and down on each piece of paper and make say twenty all the same size, fold them and pull one out in the presence of Tony and his friends. Whatever is on that paper, they do,\" she continued to explain.

The idea sounded fun, so later that day, when I met Tony in the students' common room, I put it to him. He thought the idea was great, and we agreed to try it the following Saturday. I was a bit apprehensive, but I thought we could have some fun.

I wrote twenty pieces of paper with the same description, but with varying amounts of whatever whipping was to accompany it.

\"Why not do a big one just for the fun of it?\" my friend enquired.

\"What do you mean?\"

\"You have twenty mixed ones with lower degrees of corporal punishment, but add in an extra one with higher degrees, you know, Bull whip 10, just to give the whole thing a bit of drama.\"

\"But what if I picked out that one?\" I asked cautiously.

\"You will be in big trouble,\" my friend laughed, \"However, the odds of that happening are 20 to 1, so you should be safe. As I said, it will just add a bit of extra suspense when you are picking.\"

I thought about the idea and concluded that she was right. I would do it. I added an extra piece of paper: -

Bull whip on back 10

Crop 5 each breast

Pussy 10

Cane 5

Flogging 20

Paddle 10

Tawse 5

I thought that if I managed to pick that one by some fluke, I would grit my teeth and take what was on the paper like a man... well, woman!

The day arrived, and Tony had added an extra dimension. He had ten friends plus himself. They would all take two pieces of paper each, and Tony would take one. Thus making up the twenty-one differing options of punishment. Then I would pick one man and choose either his right or left hand. No one would know what they had, and neither would I. It sounded fun. It was just the consequences that worried me. I knew that whatever happened that night, I would go to bed rather sorer than when I woke up.

I arrived with my little pieces of paper taken from an exercise pad and carefully cut up to ensure they were all the same size. Tony took them and explained to his friends what was going to take place. He then put the pieces of paper into a breakfast bowl and walked to each guy, allowing them to take one each, then returned so they could take a second. The one left was his.

If I chose Tony, I knew that was bound to be the bad one that I most definitely did not want.

One of the guys was rather good-looking, with jet-black hair brushed into a parting. I decided to pick him and then his right hand. Before he opened it, Tony asked me if I was quite sure that was the one I wanted. Suddenly, I had doubts. Did Tony know something I didn't? I changed my mind and went with the shortest, most podgy guy there, and chose his left hand. Again, I was asked if I wanted to change. I didn't. Whatever was in his hand, I'd go with it.

He opened his palm, and with some reluctance, I took the piece of paper and unfolded it. My eyes nearly popped out of my head when I saw the one that I held. In fact, I trembled and managed to drop it on the floor. It was the one terrible one!

I could not believe it; I just could not believe it. It was impossible! How in the world had I managed that? I was sure there had been a conspiracy. I was sure someone had somehow changed the pieces of paper so that they were all the same and all the worst.

In answer to my accusation, each of the young men there held out their hands with the pieces of paper still folded. I lifted every one. They were all different. It was true, the one really nasty one was the one out of twenty-one I had picked! There it was in my handwriting: -

Bull Whip on Back 10

Crop 5 each Breast

Pussy Whip with Belt 10

Cane on Bum 5

Full Body Flogging 20

Paddle on Bum 10

Tawse on Bum 5

Tony did ask if I wished to drop that one and try again. I have always been blessed, or otherwise, with a steely determination to do what I set out to do.

I remember the day when I fell off my bike, aged about eight. I had severely cut my knee and grazed my leg. I was also about a mile from home. I had twisted my handlebars, so I could not ride. I made up my mind that I would walk all the way home without crying. I managed it, but by the time I got through the back door, still pushing my damaged bicycle, my white socks had turned red as the blood had trickled down my leg. A hospital visit resulted in several stitches.

I knew I could do whatever I set out to do if I fully put my mind to it.

\"No!\" I said to Tony. \"That is the one I picked. I included it, so I must pay the price! I will allow you to do all that is on that piece of paper.\"

\"Are you sure?\" Tony asked, looking concernedly at me.

\"Yes, I am,\" I responded, \"And no matter how much I beg or plead, do not stop until I have taken every stroke that is detailed on that sheet. A silence filled the room.

\"Are you quite sure?\" I was asked again.

\"Yes, positively,\" I added, \"But hurry up before I change my mind!\" There was a slight murmur of laughter around the room.

\"Can others join in and use these things?\" Tony asked, pointing to the implements of torture he had laid out on the little table in the corner of the room.

\"Yes,\" I added, trying to smile at everyone but inwardly feeling anything but as brave as I was trying to appear.

\"Would you like us to prepare you?\"

\"Yes, please.\"

Once again, I was stripped out of my jumper, blouse, jeans, shoes, socks, and, last of all, my bra and panties. I was naked before what I could see were the lustful stares of Tony's friends. Next, someone said, \"Mind if five more join us to watch?\"

I had no real objections. So what were five more on top of eleven? One young eighteen-year-old female student and sixteen horny male students, all away from home at university and all wanting a good time. Mind you, I had well and truly drawn the short straw for a good time on this occasion. I think that I’d have much rather they thrown me onto the bed and ravished me all day in every hole!

I allowed the familiar cotton ropes to be tied around my wrists and ankles, and then the rest of the ropes were fed through the eye hooks on the ceiling and walls. Once in position and leaving absolutely nothing to my audience's imagination, I was asked if I required the blindfold again. This time I declined. I knew that at the end, I'd be in floods of tears and was very sure that such a sight would harness the best in sympathy for those viewing the proceedings.

\"Better gag you if you don't mind, only so that the neighbours don't think that we are murdering anyone,\"

I agreed and was given a rubber bit with a buckle to go around my head, which had obviously been purchased for the occasion. I had never seen one before, let alone wear one. However, it was helpful as it gave me something to bite onto and help stifle my cries.

\"How do you want to do this?\" Tony asked, \"All of each section in one go or space things out so that we do a bit of each?\"

\"All in one go so that each is over and done,\" I begged.

The Bull whip was first, and I knew how painful that had been the first time. Now, in my stupidity, I would get ten lashes instead of just the five I had received the first time I was in this position.

I looked one of the guys standing opposite me straight in the eye as I braced myself for the first strike of the whip. I am not sure who was the most uncomfortable, him or me.

'Whhhiiiiip,' the first unleashing of the coiled leather hit home right between my shoulder blades. My stifled scream was only heard by those in the room. I thought, ‘One down, nine to go,’ as I felt myself beginning to sweat with either fear or excitement. I did not know which.

Suddenly, I was hit again, much lower down this time. I tried to move my feet but was held firmly in place by my bonds. I counted each blow, trying not to lose concentration with the pain across my back that increased each time the whip was unleashed in my direction.

There was a slight pause when I got to five as the whip was handed from Tony to another observer.

I dared to look up and behind as the two talked in hushed tones. The new guy was left-handed, so he moved from my left side to my right to take up a position. I tensed, tears filling my eyes as I waited for number six to lash my back. Suddenly, a frenzy of lashes hit me in rapid succession, one after another. I hardly had time to breathe, never mind count, as my stilted screams rang through the room with the explosion of new pain that came from my back.

Then, as suddenly as it had started, the frenzy stopped, and I hung, breathing heavily and sweating freely. The new guy had completed five without ceasing. Finally, it was all over... at least the Bull whip. I allowed a slight smile to cross my face and relaxed ever so slightly.

I knew there was still a long way to go, but one out of six activities was accomplished. I was in great pain but oddly very happy.

I was left suspended but offered a drink of anything I wanted. It was Irn-Bru, but, of course, that uniquely Scottish drink was not available, so I settled for Pepsi, my gag removed to allow me to drink.

After ten or so minutes, I was congratulated on my bravery so far and asked if it would be breast or bum next. I decided to go for breasts to try and balance out the pain, so it was not all behind me.

Someone took the riding crop and, with the large leather end, played with my nipples, making them erect without me desiring such an outcome. I knew what it meant.

Watching intently, I saw the whip move back and then forward with great rapidity. It struck my right nipple expertly, and I swung, as freely as I could, giving out more of a Croke than a scream. My left nipple was next, but the accuracy was somewhat off as the leather thong caught the top of my breast before hitting the erect nipple area, taking some of the sting out of a direct hit.

Another two downward movements brought me more searing pain of direct hits on my erect and now swelling nipples. The crop was handed to another; six to go. This time, no one decided to do anything in quick succession. Every stroke was measured to try to ensure the perfect hit.

I wanted to pull away as I saw the crop rise, but felt, for some reason, that such an action might be more dangerous, so I stoically stood my ground to receive the blow aimed at my expectant tits: another four over and two to go. I was still conscious, although I thought only just as pain now seemed to race through my blood into every cell of my body.

Would I manage the other tortures still to be inflicted? I hoped so and intended to prove so even as the tears ran down my cheeks, and I felt like shouting out through my gag, 'Enough! Stop!'

The last young man stood at my side, and after a couple of practice swings, made direct contact for the last time with my very sore and increasingly swollen right nipple. I knew that wearing a bra for the next few days was a certain no-no!

He took up position and swung the last blow to my left tit. I have no idea why, but that seemed to be the worst of them all. It felt not only as if someone had stuck a knife right into my right bosom but also had great delight in giving it a hard twist. I shivered, quavered, screeched, swung and just allowed the ropes to hold my trembling frame. I now noticed that sweat was freely running down my body; so intense were the feelings I was experiencing. I was dripping wet.

Not only so, but between my legs, I knew I was getting more than a little moist. It was in these early experiments with pain, suffering and humiliation that I realised I was aroused by such actions. Pain actually gets me wet between my legs, often producing the same reaction from my aching body – a full-on orgasm. As dozens who have used me over the years in often hard BDSM play will testify, pain still gets my juices flowing and can result in some of my most sizemic orgasms.

It happened then. As my body quivered from the pain and shame of being suspended and tortured by so many young men, it exploded into a full-on orgasm as I grunted and groaned, this time in highly charged pleasure, through my rubber gag.

“By jings,” I remember hearing the only fellow Scot in the room saying in somewhat of an understatement.

Others were much more descriptive in their choice of language.

“Fuck me!”

“Flipping heck!”

“Friggin hot!”

“Wow. She’s having an orgasimbecause we whipped her. Hot or what?”

I was allowed a few minutes to hang in my ropes as the wonderful feeling slowly ebbed away, and I once more entered the world of normality.

I was glad for a welcome break so that the gag could be removed, and I was given the chance to gulp down a proffered glass of Pepsi before the next item—the paddle to my bum. I had a feeling, and thankfully it was proved correct, that this would be the one I could cope with the easiest, as the paddle was broad and would cause less direct pain.

When all was ready, and I had been asked if I wished to continue, a new guy took up the paddle and stood behind me, ready for action. The gag was replaced. The guy with the paddle swung it a couple of times as if practising some tennis shot.

Then it made contact with my bum with a solid slap. I swung, murmured and relaxed. I knew I could indeed cope with this, although by the time a new hand had taken over control at slap number five, my bottom was feeling very raw and sore. I gritted my teeth as the paddle made contact on another five occasions, by which time my bum felt as though it was on fire, and I knew it was glowing bright red to those watching from behind.

At last, I was loosed from the ropes. I did not know whether to sit, lie or kneel on the floor. Three down, four to go! Mind you, I had lost any idea as to what I still faced as I knelt with my bum off the ground before my tormentors, if I could call them that, as it was I who had orchestrated the events.

After a while, I was asked if I was ready for the next session to begin. Whether I was ready or not, I was still determined to go through with it. I was laid, rather painfully, on the bed and asked to open my legs. I knew then what was coming next.

That soft leather belt on my most intimate and sensitive of areas. As I opened my legs to expose my pussy I realised once again that it was not just my body that was soaking with perspiration, but my pussy was dripping wet with anticipation too. With all the pain I had been through, this reaction could easily have been passed over me.

\"Can we have a look?\" Someone asked Tony, \"We have never seen one in real life.\"

\"Can they?\" Tony enquired calmly, looking at me.

I sighed and nodded my consent from my position on the bed as my legs were pulled even further apart. Rather excited but garbled voices whispered to each other as I watched between the two, holding me prone.

\"You might as well get a torch and open me properly,\" I offered. I knew that my natural hairy cunt was concealing much of what they wanted to see. Allowing such an exploration of my body also gave me a few more minutes of respite from the torture I was allowing to be inflicted on me.

Hands, gently, I must say, groped and poked and felt right up into my now open and available pussy. \"She's dripping wet,\" someone said, \"The bitch loves us torturing her!\" It was true I was, and I did!

A torch was procured, and for several minutes, different guys inserted fingers to open me up and take a closer look, some for the first time, of how a natural nineteen-year-old's moist and dripping cunt really looked. There were gasps and words of appreciation from so many, and questions about when it, along with the whole package, might be available to them. I think, if I were honest, I'd have enjoyed it filled with hard cock there and then rather than about to be whipped with a belt.

Eventually, Tony brought preceeding's back to why we were all there, and I knew that my time of refreshing relaxation was over. It was time to be pussy whipped.

The two guys holding my legs opened moved slightly towards me as if scared that the belt would accidentally hit them instead of its intended target.

Again, I was asked if I wanted to be blindfolded, and again I refused. I thought about some of the larger cocks that had already been through my tight cunt lips. Could the pain that I had experienced then and the enjoyment resulting from that discomfort be used here? If I thought positively, I might find it at least more bearable.

I was suddenly brought back to reality when the leather belt struck me painfully and forcefully full on my hairy pussy. It hurt. Then there was another sharp pain as I was hit again. I gave a gasp and a little squeal of shock and surprise—two down, eight to go.

From here on, the pain grew more intense as my most intimate and sensitive area took a real pounding. I could feel my lips swelling and becoming sorer with each lash from the belt. By the time the seventh strike made contact, I had broken down entirely under the pain and asked them to stop. I was told, correctly, that I had told them no matter what I said to carry on. They did.

Then three very quick and incredibly painful swishes hit me hard to complete the punishment. I wriggled and writhed in pain, held tightly in place by the two with a firm grip on my open legs. Finally, I shouted out through my gag, in total despair as the last three struck home, and I fought to be free. It felt like my pussy was going to explode or had already been torn right open. I could feel liquid running down between my legs. It was sweat; however, for a few awful seconds, I did wonder if it had been blood.

Although my body was soaking and my pussy was moist, my mouth and throat were dry and parched. The gag was removed, and more Pepsi was offered to me, which I gladly drank.

I knew now that I just had to endure the flogging, tawse and cane, the last two upon my still red and warm bum. I was given the option of choosing which came first. I decided on the flogging, but only after checking the condition of my swollen cunt in the mirror.

I was strung up again with my hands over my head. This time, my feet were not pulled apart and attached to the wall. I was hoisted almost onto tiptoes, but not quite, as the ball of my foot stayed on the ground. This position allowed me to swing freely on the ropes, which was a relief.

Once again, I was asked to confirm that I still wanted to continue. When every sinew of your body aches unceasingly, I was not sure what other pain could be inflicted. Finally, I was asked if I wanted a slow flogging or a quick one. I opted for the latter and closed my eyes as one of the guys took the flogger and got into position.

I had no time to adjust position as the onslaught was unceasing, as ten lashes rained down upon my naked body from across my shoulders to around my midriff and across my still marked and sore back to my breasts. There was a few seconds break when I attempted to catch my breath, and someone else took possession of the flogger.

Then another ten lashes as the leather throngs tore across my exposed form. The individual hits were lost on me as I let out one long and agonising moan along with one piercing scream just after the flogging had ceased. This last deafening cry made everyone realise that they had forgotten to gag me! They all waited for neighbours to come running, demanding an explanation. None came.

I was allowed to look in the mirror. Through my tear-filled eyes, I could see that my body had literally been turned lobster pink. Long lines showed where the bull whip had struck home, and large red areas told the tale of my flogging. As I looked at my bum, I knew that it would not only be red from the paddle but striped by the cane and tawse.

“Do you want a break, Rachel?” I was asked.

I wanted to get the whole thing over and then relax. I was let down, released and led to another bedroom and instructed to kneel. I took my place alongside the bed with my bum in the air, my knees on the floor, and my body reclining over the duvet set. I asked whether these last two punishments could all be carried out quickly. This time, the gag was not forgotten.

The tawse was first. It is a nasty leather affair, a bit like a belt sliced down the middle to create two thongs that could be very painful. It is a predominantly Scottish implement used in our schools until about 50 years ago. I knew it was painful.

I took up my position as instructed whilst the assembled audience gathered round in expectancy. All went quiet for a second or so, and then a 'swooshing' noise, a sharp crack and biting pain from my backside. I hardly had time to breathe until it was all over. I couldn't have shouted stop if I'd wanted to, as everything was done so quickly. I shook and shivered even though I wasn't cold. I realised, too, that even my hair was wet right through with perspiration.

Another guy took the cane and positioned himself to give the last treatment on the list. I heard him flexing the cane as I buried my head in the duvet and waited, wondering when I would next be able to sit on my backside pain-free.

Once again, as with the tawse, the caning finished almost as quickly as it had started. I heard five sharp cracks in rapid succession and felt the shooting and searing pain, almost like lightning, tear through my body.

I kept my face down and wept into the duvet. As soon as it was over, I was gently lifted to my feet, and everyone clapped and cheered. I cannot begin to describe either the pain I was in or the relief that I felt that it was all over. Every one of those young men came and gave me a (very light) cuddle, thanking me for what I had done. I was assisted onto the bed whilst the various ointments and lotions were applied.

Eager hands rubbed my back, bum and between my legs. Then I was rolled over to receive the same treatment on my breasts, tummy and pussy. I immensely enjoyed the attention, but I was amazed that so many hands could find a tiny space on me that was not already occupied, but they seemed to manage it.

I was just delighted and, to be honest, amazed that I had allowed and survived what had been done to me. It had been incredible; however, I still had words for my female friend who had suggested including such a nasty forfeit. Now, where was she!

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