"A Soldier's Diary."

"No! Please don't do that," he answered with his head hanging down.

Liz stepped closer, rubbing her nipples against his arm. She could see Elliot's cock was throbbing hard and his breathing was labored. She took his cock in her hand, squeezing it, gently stroking it. "Umm, we'll see. I may decide to whip both your cock and ass," she said in a soft tone of voice, like that of an undecided parent.

"Yes Miss," he answered. He shuffled close to the table, his feet still encumbered by his pants. He leaned his hips forward, putting his erect cock on the table, and dutifully put his hands behind his back as though he had done this before.

"Umm, and it's such a nice cock," she smiled at him. She slowly massaged his erection. watching his face grimacing with pleasure. "You're so hard. Umm," she smiled. "I think your cock wants the whip?" Liz asked with a hint of enthusiasm in her voice.

"I don't know miss," he whispered his answer, looking down, too afraid to look at her.

Liz swung the crop down, striking his cock hard as she put her face to his cheek. "Don't you ever tell me, you don't know! When I ask if your cock wants the whip, you say, yes Mistress!" She screamed at him, spitting her words in his face.

Ahhhhh," he groaned, "Oh God that hurt," he whispered.

Her eyes lit up. "Yes! Elliot! That's why it's called punishment. It's supposed to hurt!" she said, her tone harsh. She bit her lip, "and I like to hurt you!" she added, and she knew, that was what he wanted to hear. Whipping naked men was Liz's trade. Men paid her to whip them, that was how she earned her living.

She stepped behind him, and reached between his legs, cupping his balls. "Legs apart! and keep your hands behind your back, Young Man!" she ordered, squeezing his testicles hard as she spoke. Liz liked to hold a man's balls when she talked to him. She knew how weak it made submissive men feel and how they relished that feeling of vulnerability and Liz enjoyed seeing the fear in their eyes.

"Ohh," he grunted in pain. "Yes, Miss!"

"Stand straight and be quiet!" she said, striking his cock hard with the riding crop.

"Ahhhhh!" he grunted, jumping back from the table. "Yes, Miss! I'm sorry I moved," he whispered, quickly stepping back to the table.

She held her finger up as a warning, "You speak when I tell you to," she ordered, striking the cock again. "You see what happens when you don't do as you're told?"

"Ahhhhh," he panted out, "Yes, Miss. Thank you, Miss." He answered her in a frightened tone. But he still held his cock out for her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to speak, Miss."

Liz leaned closer, her lips again touching his face as she spoke. "Giving your cock a good whipping excites me; it makes my cunt drip," she said, twisting his cock hard, then slowly milking it, bringing him closer, but keeping him on the edge.

She put her finger to his chin, lifting it. "You look me in the eyes when I whip you!" she said in a nasty tone as she struck the whip down hard, on his cock.

"Ohhh God. Please Miss!" he screamed, doubling over, whimpering, panting, holding the injured cock in his hand, but quickly putting it back in place. "Yes, Miss."

"Come come, Elliot! Stand up straight," she ordered, "and stop sniveling like a cunt!"

"Yes, Miss, I'm sorry," the young man said, breathlessly panting out his words.

"That's better," she nodded, slowly milking his cock, rubbing her hand back and forth. "You have such a nice cock. Does that feel good?" she asked. "Umm, would you like me to kiss it, put it in my mouth, and suck it when I'm done whipping you?" she asked, watching his body tense as his breathing faltered, her hand bringing him oh so close, but not quite.

"Oh, please, yes. I want that," he panted, begging her.

She smiled and raised the riding whip. "Hold it out for the whip!" she said in a callous tone, then swung the whip down on his cock again, but much harder.

"Ahhhhh," Elliot screamed out, bending over, grasping his cock, hanging his head down, breathing hard, panting out soft moaning sounds. "Oh God, please."

"Shh, easy," she whispered, kissing his cheek. "Now I want to hear you ask me for it!" she said in a snarling husky tone. "You ask me for it, or I will get very angry with you," she said, her voice changing to a pleasant tone. "You know, if you make me angry, I will tie you to the table and we can do this all night." she threatened.

"No, please don't," he whispered. "Yes Miss, I want it." He was nodding his head, begging her. He made eye contact with her. "Please, Miss. Whip my cock," he said, his voice breaking.

Liz smiled at him. "Oh, you like that?" she asked with a grin. "Of course, I will. If that's what you want," she smiled, fondling his erection.

Liz was skilled in the art of masturbating men. The experienced woman had handled hundreds of hard cocks in her line of work, and her soft hand brought Elliot ever closer to the point of no return.

"Oh, your poor little cock," she said as she petted the young man's throbbing cock, then moved her hand away and swung the crop down hard.

"Aaahhhh,' he screamed.

"I know you like this!" she said, as she watched the young man's face twisting in a painful grimace then saw his body stiffen.

Elliot's breathing changed, as he started to push his hips forward in a thrusting motion. "Please Miss, whip the cock," he panted out, grunting, "Please, hit it," he moaned, moving his hips back and forth. "Please."

Liz knew he was cumming and he needed the cock pain to reach the intense orgasm men like Elliot enjoy from having their cock abused. She struck the whip down, again and again, and again, harder, faster, on his cock.

"Ahhhhh... aaahhhhh... aaahhhhh." He was groaning, making loud moaning sounds as his cock ejaculated large gobs of pearly white cum onto the table.

For a long moment, Elliot stood there with his head hanging down, breathing hard. He reached behind him and pulled the chair closer and as he sat down; he folded his arms on the table and rested his head. Liz stepped closer, her body touching his. She put her hand to the side of his face and pulled his head against her bare stomach, holding him tight against her body.

"Shh, easy," she said.

"Whew. Thank you... thank you, Liz," he whispered, putting his arms around her waist, and burying his face against her stomach, kissing her. "I wanted that so much," he whispered. He put his mouth lower kissing her pubic mound. "I was afraid to ask you. I didn't think you'd understand.

Liz got down on her knees and worked his feet free from his pants. "Shh, that's alright," she said. She pushed his legs apart and lifted his sore soft cock then leaned her head forward and took it in her mouth. Liz gently licked and sucked the soft member, nursing out the last droplets of cum from his cock head. Liz looked up at him, "I knew you needed that," she said. "It's my fault for waiting so long."

She patted his knee, then stood up and leaned over, taking his chin in her hand. She pressed her mouth to his, spitting the droplets of cum mixed with her spit into his mouth. "You're not finished," she added, her tone assertive. She stepped over to the cabinet drawer and took out a spoon, holding it up and showing him. "You must always clean up after your whipping," she said sounding like a parent. She carefully scraped his cum from the table, with the spoon.

"This wasn't your first time, was it?" Liz asked. She lifted her head, nodding for him to open his mouth.

He shook his head with a nervous smile. "No. I was whipped once before," he said.

She frowned, "Here in Berlin?"

"No, no," he shook his head. "When I was stationed at an Army post close to where my Aunt Vivian lived. I sometimes stayed with her for the weekend, when my uncle was away," he said opening his mouth for her.

Liz put the spoonful to his mouth, then nodded for him to swallow.

"Were you fucking your aunt?" she asked in a surprised tone.

"No," he nodded, "She wouldn't allow me to touch her."

"Was she a dominatrix," Liz asked with a frown.

"I don't think so," he shrugged. "She married my mom's brother, Uncle William. He was a salesman, not home much, but they seemed normal."

"So, why did she whip you?"

He frowned, then gave her a little sheepish smile. "I was staying a weekend with her, while Uncle William was away, and I found a pair of her soiled panties in the bathroom." He hesitated, shaking his head, "I don't know, I just started to smell them and, you know me, Liz, I put them in my mouth, tasting them and Aunt Vivan walked in."

"You found them!" Liz frowned at him. "You mean you were looking in her dirty laundry hamper, don't you?"

Elliot looked down, nodding, without answering her.

"Oh, she knew that! That must have been embarrassing," Liz said, frowning. "But you liked it!" she added with a little grin.

"Yes, I loved it, but It wasn't a whip."

"Hmm?" she asked.

"She beat me with a wooden spoon."

Liz laughed, pointing to his cock. "I see you liked it. You're getting a little hard talking about it."

"Yes," he nodded, "We were both surprised when I came on her table."

Liz stepped to the stove turning the fire on under the tea kettle.

"Umm, next time I'll use a wooden spoon on you. My mother has one," she said. "I like that. When we use the spoon in the kitchen, it will remind you of your cock punishment."

Later as they sat drinking tea and talking, Liz touched herself between her legs and held her wet finger up to show him. "You see what whipping you has done to my cunt, I'm dripping wet. I need to be fucked," she said, intentionally using a snarling harsh tone. "Don't you dare tell me your cock is too sore to fuck."

The next morning was a Sunday, and they sat together naked at the table as they often did when Elliot had the day off. Liz smiled, "We're going to do that more often. Whipping you excites me, especially when I know how much you want it." She picked up the coffee spoon and put it to her lips, spitting in it. "Would you like some sugar she asked?" nodding for him to open his mouth.

"Yes," he nodded, answering her, but his tone of voice sounded different, maybe a little preoccupied, she thought.

Liz put the spoon in his mouth, then took it back and stirred her coffee. "It will be better for us both if we ritualize your whipping," she said, in a lecturing tone of voice. "Painsluts like you will get more pleasure from it," she said, then laughed at her choice of words. "We can do this the first Sunday of every month, unless, of course, I decide you need it more often."

Liz didn't notice but Elliot's mind was elsewhere as her voice droned on. She went over the time frames with him for when his cock punishment would be scheduled and went into great detail, explaining what the ritual would be. On the day of his punishment, at noon he was to undress and hand Liz the riding crop. He was then to kneel, kiss her feet, and beg her to whip him. If she had the time and agreed, Elliot was to stand naked with his cock on the table waiting until she was ready. He was to stand there waiting, regardless of how long she might take.

Liz smiled at him, "and if for some reason we have company on your whipping day, if my mother or my sister were to visit, or maybe a woman I work with stops over, that will not be an acceptable excuse to postpone your punishment," she said. She wanted the young man to know she would whip him with other women watching because she knew very well, he would like that.

"So do you understand?" she asked, then stared at him. "What's wrong?" she asked.

Elliot didn't answer, instead, he got down on his knees in front of her. He pushed her legs apart and put his face against her thigh, kissing, and rubbing his cheek against her soft skin. He leaned close, smelling her, then kissed her cunt lips, but not in a sexual way, it was more like an affectionate kiss.

He stood up and looked at her without smiling, he walked over to the cabinet. "I'm on orders Liz. They're fighting in Korea," he said.

Liz sat back closing her eyes. She bit her lip for a moment, then looked at him. "But.. but not you!" she stuttered. "But you were in the war! You don't have to..." she said, shaking her head, and looking at him with a quizzical expression on her face.

He looked away. "I asked for it, Liz. I'm a soldier. I want to be there."

Liz's eyes opened wide, "But why?" she asked. "Why?" Her face twisted into an angry scowl. "Why would you?" she asked, leaning forward, screaming her question at him. She picked up her coffee cup, "You fucking idiot!" she cried, throwing the cup at him. She put her head down, her face in her hands sobbing. "You fucking idiot," she said, screaming the words over and over again.

And a little over a month later, Liz found herself standing at the railway station, tears running down her face, waving goodbye to Elliot as he stepped up into the train to Frankfurt am Main, on his way to Korea and out of her life forever.

For Elliot the separation from Liz was different. Maybe he did love her, but that wouldn't have mattered to him. Elliot was a career soldier, and he looked forward to Korea. Elliot considered his time in Berlin with Liz as a brief diversion from the norm, and that was over, he had more important things to do. Elliot knew his life was soon going to be very hectic.

Chapter 2

It was now 15 years later, the summer of 1965.

"When one door closes another door opens."

After Korea, it took a few years before Elliot started to realize how much he missed Liz. As the years went by and Elliot's military career was coming to an end, he found himself thinking more and more about his time in Berlin with Liz. He sometimes toyed with the thought of using his leave time and spending a week or so in Berlin looking for her. But Elliot was a pragmatic man, he knew so much time had passed he'd never be able to find Liz.

Elliot had been in the Army for more than twenty-six years; he had fought in two wars and now there were rumblings of a full-scale war in Vietnam, and he didn't want to hang around for the third one, for him, it was time. On the day Elliot retired from the Army at Fort Dix, the first thing he did was drive an hour and a half to visit his aunt.

Aunt Vivian was by now, a widow in her sixties. She was a tall thin, dark-haired woman with striking sharp features, a hook nose, and dark piercing eyes. The elderly woman had a narrow waist, small pear-shaped breasts, and thin long legs. When she answered the door, she was wearing a faded cotton button-down, knee-length house dress, no makeup, and well-worn house slippers. It was obvious to Elliot the woman had aged, but she looked very good to him.

They had been sitting in her living room, talking over tea for an hour or so, when Elliot nervously asked if he may use her bathroom. Vivian stood up and was pointing to the bathroom when she suddenly turned to him. She held up her hand. "Elliot, did you come here just to use my bathroom?" she asked, in a sharp accusing tone.

Taken back by her question, he put down his cup, shaking his head no, but yes, although he hadn't planned it that way, Elliot knew very well, that that was why he was there. He looked away from her, his face turning red. "I'm sorry Vivian," he said standing up. "Please don't be angry with me, I'll leave."

She tilted her head, looking at him, studying him, then shook her head. "No, don't go." She thought for a moment. "I think maybe I understand." She looked at him, holding his eyes with hers. Vivian frowned at him, then bit her lower lip, "You're here because you want to be punished, aren't you?" she asked in an accusing tone, then without waiting for an answer, "How long has it been Elliot?" she asked, in a tone of voice that sounded like a parent talking to her son about masturbating.

Elliot looked down, unwilling to face her. "It's been a long time, Vivian," he whispered. "Maybe two or three years."

"A professional? Where was that?" she asked.

"Umm," he nodded, "Where I was stationed, Kyushu, Japan," he said, giving her an embarrassed smile, and shaking his head. "A Japanese woman, she was brutal!"

Vivian leaned forward, "But that's what you wanted?" she asked.

He nodded.

As Vivian sat down, she pointed to the chair. "Sit," she said, then looked away. She sat there for a few moments, then picked up her cup, sipping from it. "I miss your Uncle William so much, and your mom," she said, glancing at Elliot, and smiling. "I'm sure you do too," she added.

He nodded at her, with a sigh, relieved that she changed the subject. "It's been a few years," he answered, "I miss them too. I should have visited her more often."

For another few minutes, they continued with small talk, about his mom passing, and what he did with her house, and her things, then Vivian stood up and stepped over close to him. She looked down at him her hands on her hips. She nodded her head with a knowing look on her face. "You just sit there," she said, "I'll be right back."

When she came back into the room she had a long wooden spoon in her hand, and he could see she had changed her clothes. She was wearing sheer black stockings and a short black skirt. The white blouse she wore was so transparent he could see the outline of her nipples and she was wearing a pair of black high-heeled shoes she wore when she wanted to look sexy. She had put on makeup to give herself a sultry sexy appearance.

When she sat back down, she crossed her legs allowing her skirt to ride up, so much so that he could easily see the bare thigh flesh above the black stocking. She intentionally made eye contact with him as she placed the wooden spoon on the coffee table. Vivian sat back sliding her skirt, up carelessly opening her legs so that Elliot could see the pubic hair between her thighs. "I think you mentioned you wanted to use my bathroom," she said.

"Well, I have some things I have to do," she said in a business-like tone. "I'll be gone for at least an hour," she added. She held his eyes with hers. "Maybe you would like to wash up. Take your time," she smiled. "Do whatever you want." She stood up with the wooden spoon, smacking the palm of her hand. She tilted her head, glancing toward the bathroom. "There will be no reason to close doors, you'll be alone here," she said, then picked up her cup of tea and walked toward the dining room, disappearing into the darkness of the archway.

Elliot took a deep breath, then leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes. He sat there for a few minutes facing the dining room, listening, aware Vivan was still there sitting in the shadows. There wasn't a sound in the house. He loosened his belt and opened his pants, then took out his cock and sat there touching himself. He liked the feeling of the cool air on his penis, just sitting in her living room with his cock exposed gave him sexual pleasure. After a few minutes, he leaned forward and untied his shoes, then stood up and stepped back from the coffee table. He took his time undressing, neatly piling his clothes on a chair then walked into the bathroom.

There was a pair of white panties with a stained crotch, draped over the toilet seat. He picked up her underwear and held the damp crotch to his nose, inhaling the woman's strong musky cunt odor. Oh God, he whispered to himself. The smell of the woman's cunt captured his mind.

His cock stood so hard; he didn't dare touch himself. It had been so long since he had been punished by a woman. He walked over, through the archway into the dining room with the crotch of her panties in his mouth, aware she was sitting there waiting for him.

Vivian stepped forward to meet him, holding the wooden spoon. She had removed the blouse and skirt and stood naked except for her black stockings and shoes. She hurried to confront him. "Elliot, what do you think you're doing with my soiled panties?" she asked in a harsh tone, sounding much like an angry parent. She had used the same words from the first time she punished his cock, years ago. "Are you smelling my panties?" she asked, aware of how humiliating this was for him.