Cheryl's Passion Ch. 12

"Now don't move from this spot," Gretel demanded after I was in the center of the room, "I'm going to go and get one of my hairbrushes."

Coach Jenneke closed and locked the door while Gretel searched for her brush. I automatically assumed that Gretel was going to use the hairbrush to spank my poor bottom. I'd already been spanked multiple times since we arrived at the cabin, and my bottom was already sore, but that's the sort of thing that happens to you when you're a slave.

Gretel retrieved a hairbrush from her dresser drawer and abled over to where I was standing. She looked me up and down and said, "I like the way your arched back offers your breasts to me, but your legs are too close together. Your pubic lips should never be hidden."

"Legs apart," Coach Jenneke snapped sharply, and then she kicked at my ankles, urging to stand in a wide stance that left my smooth loins shamelessly on display.

"Don't move," Gretel admonished me and then she held up her hairbrush and dragged the stiff bristles of her brush across the smooth, defenseless skin of my naked body. I gasped and squirmed as she scrubbed the stiff bristles across my vulnerable breasts and up and down the length of my nipples. The pain was sharp as she harshly worked the bristles all over my delicate flesh.

Coach Jenneke got a tight grip on my arms, thus preventing me from squirming too much and Gretel got a look of malicious enjoying in her eyes as I whimpered and writhed while she tormented my sensitive nipples and areolas with the stiff, merciless bristles of her wicked hairbrush.

"Aaaghh! Ow! Ow! Ow!" I exclaimed.

"A true slave accepts her punishments with courage," Coach Jenneke admonished me, "she doesn't try to shirk them. Stick your breasts out and make it easier for Gretel to punish them."

Before I even had a chance to respond to Coach Jenneke's words, she grabbed my long, blonde hair, yanked my head back and forced me to arch my back, tilt my chin up, look straight up at the ceiling and thrust my breasts out even more, making them even more prominent and vulnerable.

With my breasts proudly thrusting out, Gretel took advantage of my defenseless state and grinding the stiff bristles of her brush into the soft skin of my bare breasts and my erect, sensitive nipples.

The bristles were stiff and prickly, but Coach Jenneke was right. A slave should be willing to accept pain for her mistresses. Gretel vigorously rubbed the stinging bristles into my soft skin, and I whimpered in the throes of raw, biting agony, but did my best not to complain or recoil from my punishment.

"Aargh! Aahhhh!"

My poor breasts suffered under the abuse Gretel inflicted and my eyes welled up with tears, but I kept my chest thrust out and struggled to please Gretel and give her the sort of slave/mistress experience that she wanted.

Gretel rubbed my breasts and nipples raw. My tolerance for pain is extremely high, however, I was rapidly approaching the point where I thought I exceed my limits and possibly pass out. And just when my breasts were throbbing with the pain of a thousand biting fire ants, Gretel ceased her assault on my breasts and then I felt the prickly bristles of her hairbrush against my loins.

"Aahhhh," I screamed, and my thighs reflexively closed together.

"Open your legs!" Gretel commanded.

I sobbed, and I whimpered, but I obeyed, and spread my legs while simultaneously thrusting my pelvis forward to receive the cruel bristles across the swollen folds of my pubic lips. I felt a powerful (if irrational) compulsion to please Gretel. I wanted her to know that I tried to be obedient and cooperative.

"That's a good girl," Gretel said when I spread my thighs apart and then she proceeded to inflict agony on my defenseless vulva.

My face was tilted up towards the ceiling, so I couldn't see what Gretel was doing, however, I could feel the cruel boar bristle hairbrush as it inflicted searing, shocking pain on my delicate, pink pubic lips. I whimpered and sobbed as Gretel's hairbrush viciously scrubbed up and down across the most secret part of my female anatomy. I screamed as the scorching pain of hundreds of stiff, sharp bristles inflicted a horrible, intimate pain on my soft, pink vulva and I burst into tears.

My legs trembled, my breasts throbbed with intense pain and my labia felt like it was being stung by a swarm of angry wasps, but I wanted to show Gretel how obedient a slave I could be, so I maintained position and kept my legs spread wide and my pelvis thrust forward.

I'm passionate about being a slave. It's important to me. I want to be constantly naked, ogled, examined, fondled, supervised, controlled, sexually abused and punished by cruel mistresses. And if my mistress wants me to present my ass, my breasts or my pubic lips for punishment, I'm the sort of slave who will yield to my mistress's authority. I will obediently assist her in punishing whatever part of my body that she desires.

"I'm impressed," Gretel finally proclaimed when she had finished inflicting white hot pain on the most intimate parts of my anatomy.

I had fallen into an exhausted, delirious state, sobbing and trembling as hot, wet tears cascaded down my face. Coach Jenneke released her hold on my hair and allowed me stand normally, brining Gretel once again into my line of vision.

"Such a brave little slave," Gretel said softly and tenderly, "I'm very proud of you."

My vision was blurry with tears, but I'm certain I saw Gretel smile affectionately before she began to plant loving kisses on my lips, my shoulders and my throat.

"You are such an obedient girl," Gretel cooed tenderly, "I can see why April loves you so much."

I was still sobbing and the sound of my cries filled the room, but Gretel still voiced sweet words of adoration and told me what a good girl I was. Coach Jenneke agreed with her sentiment and even opined that I looked even more beautiful when I was being punished.

"She looks so enticing when she's punished, so fetching, the sweet look on her face when she's suffering, it's impossible for me to take my eyes off her."

"Exactly," Gretel agreed, "she looks utterly adorable when she's suffering."

Gretel took me into her arms and held me affectionately. Her clothed body was pressed against my naked body, my wrists were bound behind my back so I couldn't return the embrace, but I felt a powerful throbbing in my loins Gretel's beautiful body intimately molded itself into my naked flesh.

She kissed me on my face and neck and delicately nibbled on my earlobe as she held me close.

"April is so lucky to have you," Gretel whispered in my ear. And then she pressed her mouth against mine. Her kissing started out soft and tender but became more and more passionate as her mouth was melded to mine. Her kissing became feverish and frantic.

And then she slipped her tongue into my mouth.

I moaned into her mouth and felt the heat rising in my loins as our tongues mingled and one of Gretel's hands roughly grabbed at my sore buttocks. I wanted to throw my arms around Gretel and embrace her, of course I couldn't.

When Gretel finally broke from the kiss, we were both panting. Gretel's eyes met mine and she had a look of tender adoration on her face. She held me devotedly and let me rest my head on her shoulder. I moaned and felt a weird sense of contentment and belonging. I got caught up in the feeling and got pleasantly lost

"That's enough," Coach Jenneke said, breaking me out of my peaceful reverie.

Next, I was ordered to get down on my knees and lick both women to orgasm. I spent over an hour with my tongue probing the vaginal clefts and licking the swollen pubic lips of Coach Jenneke, then Gretel, then Coach Jenneke again. And while I worked my tongue tireless to bring these women, panting, heaving, orgasmic bliss, my own wet sex was left throbbing with need, desperate for satisfaction.

* * *

By the time my three days in the woods were done, every woman in that cabin had become smitten with me. Even Alex took me into her arms and took back all the horrible things that she said about me. She admitted that her hatred of me was irrational. And once she came to grips with that, she realized that I was quite adorable. She's become quite delighted with how obedient, devoted and dutiful I can be when I'm under the care of a strict, domineering woman.

Everyone loved me, but when it came time for the ceremonial whipping out at the whipping posts, it didn't matter how much the women loved me. I was sentenced to thirty-six lashes and all the love and affection that Alex, April, Gretel, Heidi and all of the other women felt for me wouldn't get me pardoned from my sentence.

On the last day of our time out in the woods, Karlie and I were marched naked out to the clearing and fastened to the whipping posts. I looked over at Karlie and then I looked up at her bound wrists. They were neatly crossed and tightly bound. No matter how I danced, they would keep me secured to the heavy, wooden post.

The way my wrists had been tied, I could not lower my arms or walk away from the whipping post. My freedom of movement mostly consisted of shifting my weight from one foot to the other, rubbing my bare thighs together or rubbing myself against the hard wood of the post.

I squirmed and pulled against the ropes that held my wrists. I had been brave at first about the prospect of being whipped for the entertainment of Kat and all Kat's guests out here in the woods, but now that I was tied to the whipping post, helpless, defenseless and my whipping imminent, I found my courage ebbing.

After what seemed like hours, April appeared.

"Are you nervous, darling?" my mistress asked,

"Terrified," I replied, "but enormously excited at the same time. Does that make any sense?"

"It suits you," April replied, "You're a pent-up package of potent emotions. I'll enjoy watching your reactions as you're whipped."

I sighed heavily, and my mouth felt dry. Then I asked, "How many lashes?"

"Karlie is still a novice at being a slave, so she's only been sentenced to eighteen lashes," April explained to me, "You've got more experience and have a high pain tolerance, that's why you get twice as many lashes as her."

"Should I be honored, Mistress?" I asked.

"Don't be snarky," April warned, "Being snarky to your mistress can earn you extra stripes."

"Sorry, Mistress," I replied demurely.

"My panties are soaking wet just from looking at you, naked, frightened and bound to that post," April confided, "I'm taking you into my bed, the first chance I get after this is over."

There was a potent eroticism to being whipped, but there was also a mind-numbing fear. April wasn't helping me get past either of those things. My heart beat frantically in my chest while my vagina throbbed with sexual craving between my legs. I was in no condition to engage my mistress in polite conversation, but I nevertheless made a valiant attempt.

"Who's going to whip me?" I asked April.

"Kat Göttin insisted on whipping you, but I talked her out of it," April explained, "Thirty-six lashes with a real whip is a very advanced punishment, and Kat is just a beginner at this sort of thing. I arranged for Stefania to whip you. She's got the experience. She can inflict a great deal of pain without doing you any actual injury."

I knew from experience that April was telling the truth. Stefania could inflict a lot of pain on a naked girl, but she wasn't reckless. She never cut me, caused bleeding, bruised my kidneys of struck my joints. She only aimed for my sweet spots, and she always hit what she was aiming for.

I looked over at Karlie. She was just ten feet away and bound to an almost identical whipping post. She looked just as helpless and vulnerable as I felt.

"So, who's going to whip Karlie?" I asked.

"Kat," April explained, "I tried to talk her out of it, but she held firm to the idea that she should be allowed to whip her own slave. Stefania will be standing next to her the whole time, giving her pointers, but Kat will be the one holding the whip."

"I hope she doesn't hurt Karlie too badly," I said softly, and looked over at Karlie. She was naked and her wrists were bound helplessly above her head, forcing her to raise her arms high and keep them raised. She looked defenseless and I worried what Kat might do to her once the whipping began.

"You're sweet to worry so much about your friend," April commented, "but you have your own problems to worry about. Your lovely skin is going to end up far more marked up than hers."

Of course, once April said that my heart began to pound insistently in my chest, and I felt a new and delicious fear as I realized April's word were true. Stefania was going to decorate my skin with dozens of painful, red lines. I was going to be in a great deal of scalding pain when she was finished.

I stood there, naked and bound and helpless and then Kat showed up with a wicked looking, leather whip in her hand. A parade of attentive women followed behind her. Stefania was near the front, and I knew the whip would eventually be in her hand.

"I should go now," April informed me and then she scurried off to join the rest of the women.

Kat and Stefania marched over and took up a position a few feet behind Karlie. The rest of the women clumped together in a group nearby, their eyes eagerly fixated on Karlie's helpless nudity.

Kat raised her whip high above her head and called out, "We are gathered here today to celebrate Karlie's decision to serve me as my loving, obedient slave."

There were general shouts of approval from the crowd and then Kat raised her voice again.

"To commemorate this important occasion, Karlie has consented to have her lovely skin marked up with this whip! This is a sacred occasion and one that I want everyone her to remember forever!"

There were a number of shouts of approval as well as scattered applause. And then someone yelled, "Take lots of pictures!"

Kat got an amused smirk on her face and yelled back, "Of course, if you have cameras or iPhones, be sure to take plenty of pictures. That will help to immortalize the occasion."

Then I felt a rush of nervous adrenaline as digital cameras and iPhones appeared out of nowhere. Suddenly, every woman in the crowd seemed to be prepared to record the agonizing humiliation of two naked slaves.

Then, Kat placed her hand at the center of Karlie's back and very solemnly spoke to her fledgling slave.

"Karlie, this whipping is more than just a ritual between slave and mistress. This is a milestone in your life. No matter what happens from this day forward, you will never be able to forget this important moment, the way you surrendered all control and gave me absolute power over your fate."

A shiver ran through Karlie's naked body and she twisted her head around to get a better look at her mistress. Then, in a very tremulous voice, I heard her say, "I'll never forget, Mistress, but no more suspense please? The longer I'm forced to wait, the more frightened I become. I think my courage is just about to fail me."

"You are adorable," Kat responded in a soft, affectionate tone, "The waiting ends now."

Kat is more graceful with the whip than I had expected. I think perhaps Stefania gave her some lessons before she could whip a live human being. The first snap of the whip cut across Karlie's bare shoulders and elicited a gasp from the slave-girl's lips. Her face was turned in my direction and I saw the look of intense suffering on Karlie's face.

Before Karlie had a chance to recover from her first taste of the whip, Kat deliver another painful stripe across the helpless slave's back. Karlie writhed in pain and let out another gasp, but valiantly tried not to scream.

A third blow struck Karlie just above her buttocks and wrapped around her waist. I cringed in sympathy and my courage began to falter as well. Karlie and I became sisters in distress, and I was reminded that very soon, I would be the naked slave suffering under the lash.

Following Stefania's suggestions, Kat focused her next snapping of the whip across Karlie's bare buttocks and the backs of her thighs. The look of anguish on Karlie's face and her fevered writhing at the whipping post has a profound effect on me, part of it is sympathy for my friend, but another part of it is raw, unbridled fear. I always tried to be brave and stoic for my punishments, but watching how Karlie reacted to the whip, my knees felt weak and I felt the sensation of butterflies in my stomach.

"Oooooh," Karlie yelped as an especially painful crack of the whip found the sensitive spot where the top of her thigh met the lower curve of her ass. Her body squirmed and writhed in pain and she frantically pulled against the restraints on her wrists.

There was a strange sort of beauty in the way Karlie danced and writhed at the whipping post. Her lithe nudity bounced, arched and swung back and forth with youthful energy and animalistic passion. I became emotionally invested in Karlie's pain and it wasn't until the tenth of eleventh crack of the whip that I realized I was flinching each time Karlie was struck.

Karlie was stoic and made a heroic attempt to stifle her screams. And for the first half of her whipping she limited herself to heavy breathing and agonized gasps, but at some point, she was unable to maintain her stoicism and she unleashed on agonized scream after another.

Her screams echoed throughout the woods until Kat ceased to mark Karlie's naked skin and handed the whip to Stefania.

Karlie rested her face against one upraised arm and sobbed in pain while a crowd of female onlookers took photos of her wounded nudity. I felt a surge of sympathy for my fellow slave and felt a strong urge to take her in my arms and comfort her. Of course, that was impossible.

Kat walked over to her punished slave and solemnly announced, "It is done."

Karlie's body sagged against the whipping post and then she was told that she had to thank Kat for her punishment. "Thank you, Mistress," Karlie said, her voice choked with sobs. I was surprised. Karlie's naked body was decorated with a multitude of painful red and pink marks. The poor girl was suffering with scalding whip marks all over her body, but she still somehow managed to thank Kat for her whipping.

Stefania now held the whip and she strode purposefully over to where I was bound and announced, "Karlie's whipping was a ceremonial ritual to mark the occasion as she transitioned from Kat's friend, to Kat's obedient, naked slave."

She paused for dramatic effect and then added, "Cheryl's whipping is not ceremonial. She is a slave who was caught wearing clothing without her mistress's permission. For that she must receive punishment whipping. That will be much more severe that ritualistic whipping and hurt a great deal more."

I felt feverish, short of breath and there was a nervous lump forming in my throat. I was naked, vulnerable and Stefania was publicly telling a crowd of women that she was going to inflict far more pain on my bare skin than Karlie had just suffered.

And as I looked out at my audience, they held up cameras and iPhone and eagerly waited for Stefania to hurt me.

Stefania ran her left hand over my buttocks, squeezing them like melons, then she inserted a hand between my thighs and cupped my swollen pubic lips and said, "You are already soaking wet. I think you will enjoy this as much as the women who watch with hungry looks on their faces."

"You know me, Mistress," I told Stefania, "I crave the abuse, but I'm still frightened."

"Fear is part of what excites you," Stefania insisted, "Like the people who ride the roller coaster. They scream in terror, but they get back on the wild, scary coaster and ride it again and again."