Cheryl's Passion Ch. 22

"That's the idea, Cassandra," an elegant woman said with a smile. "Slave girls are expected to suffer."

Melissa had a wicked smile on her face as she raised the whip and prepared to strike. Her enthusiasm for hurting me was all too obvious and she swung the whip forehand and back with rapid slashes that scorched my breasts and elicited tortured screams from my throat.

I struggled against my restraints as the servant girl gleefully decorated my breasts with painful red stripes. After my breasts were throbbing with a blinding riot of pain, I was certain that I'd taken all fourteen strokes, however, the maid informed me that it had only been six.

"I'll give you a few seconds to catch your breath, pretty girl," Melissa said, toying with the lips of my pussy. When her fingers were glistening with my juices, she held them up for all the women to see.

"I think she enjoys being whipped. Just look how wet she is."

It was humiliating to be fingered by my aunt's maid and have her use my sexual arousal against me in front of all these domineering women. I whimpered and gasped as Melissa played with my exposed pubic lips, allowing my sexual excitement to surge, driving me right up to the edge of a potent orgasm, then she pulled her fingers away.

There was a throbbing ache in my loins. I desperately wanted to cum. Melissa had brought me to the verge of a powerful climax and then left me suffering with desire. I wasn't allowed to talk, but I gave the maid a pleading look, hoping that she'd continue fingering me and bring me some relief.

Melissa saw the expression on my face and said, "Don't give me that look, girl. You heard what she said. You're a slave. Your orgasms are going to be rationed."

It seemed unbearably cruel for my aunt and her companions to strap my naked body with my legs pornographically far apart, make my exposed pussy the center of attention, and when it was throbbing and dripping wet, deny me sexual release. I whimpered and gave my aunt a wounded look. However, I soon forgot about my sexual distress, when Melissa began once again to whip my naked breasts.

The strikes of the whip hurt even worse this time. The blazing cuts came without warning and felt like arrows shot into my flesh.

"Gaaaawd!" I shrieked. She made diagonal strikes. One scorched across my right boob, the next across the left. One of them slashed right across my hard, sensitive nipple and it felt like liquid fire erupting across my swollen, pink nub.

"Just four more to go," the maid assured me. "The whip marks you already have are quite beautiful."

And Aunt Helen assured me that I'd soon be escorted to a mirror so I could admire her maid's handiwork. My eyes had welled up with tears and I was sobbing uncontrollably, so I could barely hear or see my aunt, but she seemed very pleased with the job Melissa was doing.

The last four strikes were pure torture and I understandably howled with pain. Each new lash across my naked body was a blinding flash of agony. When the maid was finished, tears were streaming down my face and my helpless, naked body had broken out in a sheen of sweat.

There was a hushed reverence in the room after I'd been subjected to my agonizing torment. For a while, the only sound I could hear was the sound of my own sobbing. Then the two maids came over to undo my restraints, and my aunt escorted me over to a freestanding antique mirror so that I could examine for myself the painful marks on my naked, young body.

"You see, dear?" my aunt inquired. "They really do enhance your beauty."

I gazed at my reflection. My hair was mussed up and my face was a mask of anguish. There were glaring red lines across my perfect breasts. I was mesmerized by the stripes, although I felt they didn't adequately portray the searing pain I had endured. There was no blood, just lines of disturbingly reddened skin. My aunt assured me that the marks would fade within three or four days.

"Unless we whip them again," one of the women commented. "Your aunt has you for ten whole days. It would be foolish for somebody to purchase a beautiful, naked slave for that period and only whip them once."

The crowd thinned out after my whipping. Some of the women had social or business obligations that required their attention, but they assured my aunt that they'd return at some point to abuse and objectify me some more.

My breasts were throbbing with pain and even though I didn't say anything about how much I was hurting, my aunt could tell from my body language and my facial expression. She set down her camcorder and picked up a plastic squeeze bottle of sort of medicinal lotion.

"It's for your breasts, dear," she said in a maternal tone of voice. "Pull your shoulders back and thrust your breasts forward, so I can rub it in."

The idea of my aunt rubbing her hands all over my naked, prominently displayed boobs made me feel incredibly awkward and uncomfortable, even if it might ease the throbbing pain. To make matters worse, she had an audience watching the entire time as she felt me up.

My aunt poured a generous amount of lotion into her hands and began to rub it gently into the reddened skin on my abused breasts and nipples. My skin was red and sensitive everywhere the whip had kissed it. I gasped when Aunt Helen rubbed it in but I forced myself to stand perfectly still with my breasts thrust forward, just as she'd ordered.

She placed her oily hands on my naked breasts and massaged the red marks and abrasions that her maid had left behind.

"Oooh!" I gasped. Even with her deliberate attempts to be gentle, my flesh was still too sore to be touched without sharp, stinging pain.

My aunt continued to massage the lotion into my sore skin, one breast at a time. Even though my breasts were sore to the touch, before long, her hands rubbing in the lotion felt good. I let out an audible sigh as she smoothed lotion into my naked breasts and exposed nipples, easing the stinging pain.

I kept my chin up, my chest thrust forward and my hands behind my back while my middle-aged aunt groped my teenage breasts.

There was a soft, wet pulse in my sex, and I found it shaming that I could get sexually aroused from my aunt touching me. And when my aunt focused on rubbing the oils into my abused nipples my whole body trembled.

It was humiliating, but I felt my need and my hunger growing as her oily fingers rolled my nipples and deliciously soothed away the pain.

* * *

It became the responsibility of every woman in my aunt's home to make sure I was in a constant state of sexual excitement. My aunt, her friends, even her servants all kept an eye on me and made certain that my pussy was constantly wet.

I remember one morning, a woman in a tweed blazer ordered me to get down on the floor, spread my legs and masturbate while my aunt and her friends watched.

I lay on my back with my feet flat on the floor and legs spread wide then as ordered, raised my hips high in a degrading and obscenely exposed bridge pose. The fact that the gathering of middle-aged women was all fully dressed, and I was entirely naked added to my sensations of being helpless and inferior, like a lesser person, powerless and dominated.

The tweed clad woman stared intently at my plump, glistening pubic lips as I moaned, gasped and fingered myself. It was awkward and embarrassing to perform such an intimate act while under the assessing eye of such a dominant, intimidating woman.

Although my feelings of embarrassment had to compete with my feelings of fear. You see, in her right hand she held a thin, leather strap that she had folded double so that the end was a large loop.

"It stings more if you strike a girl with the loop," my overseer informed me. "You'll appreciate it more when I use it on you this way. It will be exquisitely painful. You're quite fortunate, Cheryl. Not all girls get to experience this sort of delicious agony."

She smiled as she said it, making it sound as if she were conferring some sort of wondrous favor by marking up my naked body with her wicked leather strap.

Of course, she couldn't just whip me with it. No, that would be too simple. She waited, watching me play with myself and when my breathing became too intense and it seemed that an orgasm was imminent, she swung her leather strap down at my hand to swat it away from my crotch.

Of course, most of the time she missed my hand and would instead strike my inner thigh or my sensitive, pink slit.

"Aaaahhhh!"

"Don't look so forlorn dear," the woman with the strap advised as my eyes welled up with tears. "You'll come to appreciate your orgasms much more when you're forced to suffer for them."

I trembled as I felt the sexual pressure building inside me as I rubbed my hard, swollen clit, as wave after wave of feverish desire caused me to break out into a fine sheen of sweat.

Crack! The leather strap sliced across my inner thigh just as I was on the edge of orgasm. I yanked my hand away from my pussy and yelped in pain.

"Raise your pelvis up higher and spread your legs wide, girl," the imperious woman said as she hovered over me with her cruel leather strap. "Put your pretty vulva on display for me."

I whimpered and gasped as I struggled to obey. My self-preservation instincts were urging me to close my legs and protect my pussy, but instead I spread my legs pornographically wide and raised my pink slit up higher, making it vulnerable and defenseless.

Crack! When I was once again on the verge of orgasm, her leather strap came down and cut across the delicate folds of my pink pubic lips. The sharp pain of the whip across my swollen labia caused me to shriek in pain and my buttocks collapsed to the floor.

"Now, now, girl, you know better than that," the affluent woman admonished me. "Hips back up. Display that beautiful pussy for me."

I trembled as once again I felt the sexual pressure building inside me as I rubbed my hard, swollen clit renewed waves of feverish desire soaking me with sweat.

Crack! The leather strap sliced across my inner thigh just as I was on the edge of orgasm. I yanked my hand away from my pussy and yelped in pain.

Higher. Wider, girl," the imperious woman said as she hovered over me with her cruel leather strap. "Lovely pussy mustn't try to hide from me."

Crack! Again, on the verge of orgasm. Again, my buttocks collapsed to the floor.

"Up, up."

It took an enormous amount of self-control to do as she said. I raised my pubis up as high as my back could stand, putting my shaved pubes over and over on pornographic display. I rubbed my breast with one hand while my other hand reached for my moist slit. I rolled my left nipple as my right hand while I enthusiastically played with my hard, swollen clit. I was so worked up and so desperately in need of sexual relief. I closed my eyes and forgot all about the woman with the leather strap. My body was overheated, and my pussy was leaking fluids as shamelessly worked my fingers across my clit and inner pubic lips. I could feel an earth-shattering orgasm building deep inside me and just as my naked body was about to explode in libidinous ecstasy, there was an explosion of red-hot pain as the woman's cruel strap came down across the inside of my thigh and then a moment later there was another flash of pain, and I was struck dead center across the abused lips of my sex.

"Aaaaahhhhh!" I screamed. I was given a few minutes to absorb the enormity of the pain that the whip had inflicted upon me and then, to my utter astonishment I was ordered to begin masturbating again.

When she was finally done whipping me, I had a collection of vivid, red stripes across both my thighs, and I was sobbing as my body attempted to cope with the torment of extreme sexual frustration together with the stinging scald of the whipping.

When my sobbing finally stopped the dapper woman reached between my legs and kneaded my swollen pubic lips. They were horribly sore after all the painful abuse they'd received. I whimpered and gave the woman a hurt, plaintive look.

"Now, Cheryl," my aunt admonished as she hovered nearby and pointed her damnable camcorder at my naked body, "don't make that face. She's treating you in exactly as a slave is supposed to be treated."

I was loath to admit it, but I experienced a dark, potent thrill from the way that my aunt and her friends treated me. Being the only one naked, ogled and pornographically displayed for the entertainment of fully clothed, affluent women, keeping me in a state of constant sexual arousal, having my love juices constantly seeping from my exposed sex, being sexually objectified by these elegant aloof women...I never felt more alive than I did being cruelly abused and objectified by my aunt and her friends.

I was so displayed and humiliated, in such contrast to their clothed dignity, that I was driven into an unrelenting feverish riot of eroticism. My pussy was constantly wet, and my clit was constantly hard and swollen. I was trapped in what seemed like an intensely erotic wet dream, one too real to escape.

A very significant part of me didn't want to escape, but I wasn't going to say that out loud.