She was kneeling in
front of Master Thomas, so scared she was beginning to tremble. “It’s time for
a new lesson, slut.”
Over the course of
the week, Hannah discovered that when she had learned enough lessons… when she
was a good enough slut… she could be a pet. She hated being called a slut.
“Yes, Master Thomas.”
There was a slight
quiver in her voice, but she did not hesitate to follow him over to a padded
beam. “Bend over the beam, and look at Mistress Sarah.”
“Yes, Master
Thomas.” Hannah folded over the padding, her braid flipped onto the floor, and
she looked at an upside down view of the Mistress. So far, no one had fucked
anything but her mouth, and she wondered if that was to be the lesson.
She shifted her eyes
away from the Mistress when Master Thomas spread her legs and buckled her
ankles into cuffs. He linked them to the legs of the beam, and when she glanced
at the Mistress again, she touched her eyes and smiled, reminding Hannah to keep
her focus on her and not on Master Thomas. Hannah appreciated that the Mistress
had not told on her and gotten her punished.
Her wrist cuffs were
unhooked, and Master Jeremy sat down on the floor by her side. He latched them
under the beam in front of her bare pussy, spread her lips, and Hannah’s bottom
tightened when he began to stroke. She immediately moistened, after a week’s
worth of conditioning to his touch.
He stood without
finishing, and while Hannah continued to watch the Mistress, the Mistress
watched the shining hole squeezing slick, shining juice, in preparation for the
abandoned orgasm. Master Jeremy had left her horny and she was a little pissed
off he had not finished it.
Master Thomas’ knees
blocked her vision of the Mistress, and Hannah trembled when his big hand
caressed her bottom. Maybe he would help her climax… he never had before… but,
maybe, this was the new lesson. His rubbing was making her itch with need, and
she rotated her bottom against his hand. When his finger stroked through her
cream, she almost begged him to finish her, but instead, he stopped, leaving
her even more frustrated.
Hannah gasped when
the tail of a whip, dropped onto the floor by Master Thomas’ foot. “I want you
to count the strikes, slut. You will say, ‘One, Master Thomas’… and count them
all, until your little cunt climaxes. Use your hands, slut. This is not punishment,
and you will learn to look forward to your orgasm.”
For the first time
in a few days, Hannah’s eyes filled and she shivered. She was scared of being
whipped because she remembered the ash branch her daddy used when she was
little. It burned and hurt for days. How could she forget about the whip and
try to make herself feel aroused if he was going to make her count?
He stepped back
until she could see all of him, and her upside down view showed her bulging
bronze muscles on his tanned chest. She had never seen him with his shirt off
before, and even though she liked guys her own age, the Master was very
handsome. His arm drew back and Hannah’s bottom tightened. She heard the
Mistress say, “It’s easier if you try to relax, slut.”
Her sister used to
tell her that when daddy whipped them, but Hannah never could manage to keep
from tightening up. The whip cracked forward across her bottom, and in a second
she rose to her toes. “Owww… owww,” she screamed.
“Count for me,
slut.”
“One, Master Thomas…
it hurts,” she wailed.