Cheryl's Passion Ch. 23

Then she pushed her chair back from the small poolside table and said, "Climb over my lap girl. I wish to get a better look at your backside."

I was pulled across Ms. Astor's lap and forced into an awkward position with my naked ass high in the air and my face down near the ground. Ms. Astor placed her hands on my inner thighs and spread my legs apart, leaving my wet, swollen pubes and my anus shamefully exposed. I could feel my face blushing hot with embarrassment as Ms. Astor's hand began to roam over my tender backside, touching it all over and kneading the wounded flesh, renewing the pain of the spanking I'd received that morning.

"Corporal punishment is so good for girls your age," Ms. Astor proclaimed with surety as she examined Sandra's handiwork. She didn't elaborate on her statement; however, I wondered if she truly felt that Sandra, Sophia and Mackenzie would benefit from being stripped naked and spanked over the knee of some merciless disciplinarian. Those girls were all around my age. Did Ms. Astor think that corporal punishment would be good for them too?

As she continued her intimate examination of my poor, abused bottom, Ms. Astor brought up the subject of my upcoming whipping, rekindling my sense of panic.

"I've spoken to your aunt," she said. 'She was going to have you submit to a traditional whipping, but I told her that would be boring."

Ms. Astor then told me to get up. Once I was standing, she elaborated on her discussion with my aunt. "Traditionally, a penitent is punished with a whip across their back. However, a girl's anatomy has much more interesting targets that a master can whip. The crowds will enjoy it more, and I think you'll appreciate having attention paid to the more alluring parts of your anatomy."

I couldn't keep the look of shock from my face. Getting whipped across my back would be bad enough, however Ms. Astor was clearly implying that delicate parts of my anatomy such as my young breasts and swollen pubic lips would be abused by the whip.

"Don't make that face, girl," Ms. Astor admonished me. "A whipping across your intimate parts will be good for you. It does a lot to humble a girl. And it will be grand entertainment for everyone that's showed up today to witness your punishment."

I had a dozen sarcastic remarks on the tip of my tongue; however, I kept them to myself. Then, Ms. Astor told me to pick up my tray and serve the other guests.

It was humiliating to be the naked sexual center of attention for all these women, and I suffered a flood of shame as scores of assessing eyes roamed up and down my naked body.

When I had finishing handing out the drinks, I thought I could collect the empty glasses and return to the kitchen, but my aunt's guests had other ideas.

A tall, blonde woman in a stylish tennis dress stepped in front of me and gave me an unfriendly look. She placed a hand on me, directly between my breasts, and said, "I traveled almost two-hundred miles to be here today. I'm looking forward to seeing them whip you."

A leggy redheaded woman in a similar tennis dress hurried over when she heard the blonde say this and grabbed the blond by the arm.

"Ivanka! Don't say that!" the redhead protested. "You shouldn't enjoy watching a girl get whipped!"

"It's nothing worse than she deserves," the blonde countered. "Walking around naked in front of decent people! Making a display of her tits and ass like a slut!"

Ivanka was clueless. Her friend tried to explain to her that I was a slave, and I was forced to display my naked body by the people who owned me. I had no choice in the matter.

Ivanka wasn't a quick learner and she continued to accuse me of being a slut, a temptress and a sexual deviant.

Eventually, I got away from Ivanka, but then an elegant woman with a Russian accent insisted that I stop and allow her to examine my boobs.

Of course, I did as she asked and placed my hands behind the back of my neck and thrust my breasts out for her inspection. She just cupped them at first, but then she proceeded to knead them enthusiastically and roll my nipples between her fingers.

Next, an elegant young black woman stopped me and demanded my attention. She wore black patent leather high heels that looked expensive and a stylish leather belt that accentuated her slender waist. She insisted on telling me how amusing it was that she was going to get to enjoy watching a white slave girl get tied to the whipping post and punished.

I got her point. Traditional roles were being reversed and now a black woman got to wear fine clothes and sip alcohol while the white girl was shamefully naked, bound and whipped until her throat was raw from screaming.

I would have found the whole thing much more amusing if it wasn't my naked body that was going to be covered in stinging whip marks.

It took me at least an hour to collect seven empty glasses, as scores of women were far more interested in my naked body than they were in mimosas. The kitchen staff gave me another tray of drinks to hand out to the guests and once again, I got ogled and fondled while attempting to carry my tray.

At some point, the kitchen staff also put Cara to work. I saw her out near the pool, carrying a tray like mine. Of course, like me, she was utterly naked, and her buttocks had been reddened. It was the first time I'd seen her since we'd been brought to my aunt's house.

I wanted to make my way over to her and ask how she was coping with life as one of my aunt's slaves, but the crowd of wealthy women separating us kept impeding my progress and I was never able to reach her.

Being groped while you're carrying a tray of drinks is awkward. There were several times when an overprivileged woman would squeeze my ass or grab one of my boobs and I almost dropped my tray. Handing out a tray of mimosas became a major challenge.

When I finally handed out all of the drinks, I attempted to go back and collect the empty glasses, however, I was stopped by a hand grabbing me by the thigh.

An elegant and lovely teenager was sitting at one of the tables and she reached out for me as I tried to move along. I made eye contact with her and said, "I've never seen a slave before. You have to stay and tell me what it's like being constantly naked and owned."

Her eyes were wide, and her breathing was excited. She was like a groupie, meeting her favorite rock star.

"It's less glamorous than you might think," I said politely. "There's a lot of menial labor and cruel punishments."

Her enthusiasm wasn't dampened. She stared at me, spellbound, and said, "You walk around naked with all these people staring at you! And you are going to be whipped! I think that is oh so exciting!"

Her name was Emma. She was eighteen years old, thrilled and incorrigible. She was bewitched by sexual slavery in general and me in particular. She insisted that I was living a life of extraordinary eroticism, and she wanted to be a part of it.

"Is your aunt interested in acquiring any additional slaves?" Emma asked. "I'd be willing to volunteer!"

Emma had a face like a Disney princess and from what I could tell, she had a beautiful body. She had the right physical appearance to be a sex slave, but she seemed too eager. It was like she had no self-preservation instinct. I was worried that if she set one foot in my world, she'd be in the ER before the end of the week.

I tried to dissuade Emma from her idea of becoming one of my aunt's slaves, however, she was adamant. She gave me a direct order and demanded that I talk to my aunt.

She basically pulled rank. If I didn't try to talk my aunt into taking on Emma as a slave, I could be punished for being disobedient. It felt wrong, but I promised Emma I would talk to my aunt and do my best to get things arranged.

Of course, I had my own problems to worry about. Before I had a chance to talk to my aunt, one of the maids came and got me and told me it was time for me to be bound to the whipping post.

The maid's name was Eva and she towered over me, especially as she was wearing high heels while I was barefoot. I was enormously intimidated by her and did my best to keep up with her as she tightly gripped my arm and dragged me off to where slave girls got whipped.

The post stood waiting; the severe solidity of its vertical lines was broken by a metal ring embedded in it up near the top. It was of simple construction, but practical, and it inspired dread in any naked slave that beheld it.

Eva ordered me to raise my arms up so she could tie my wrists to the thick, metal ring. She stepped up onto a wooden crate and fastened my wrists with practiced ease. I wondered where she learned her skill at ropes. She secured my wrists so quickly and easily.

Eva patted my ass affectionately and left me there. Despite the warm sun, I shivered. It was terrifying for a girl to be stripped naked, bound, knowing that someone would arrive soon to whip her innocent flesh.

I rested my cheek against the warm wood and tried not to think of all the rich ladies who were staring at me from a distance. To them, I was just a source of entertainment, a naked body that would scream and writhe provocatively when a whip was applied.

I was so focused on feeling sorry for myself, I didn't even notice when a woman walked up behind me. I stood there, pressing myself forlornly against the wooden post until I heard a female voice say, "The way you're hugging that post looks adorable. I could almost believe you're in love with it."

I pulled myself away from the post and saw that black lady I had talked to earlier. She had a look of joyful satisfaction on her face. She hadn't looked nearly so cheery the first time we met.

"When a slave is bound to a whipping post, there's not much else she can do," I explained to the affluent woman.

"Oh, you'll find something else to do, when I come back to whip you," she replied with an amused smirk.

"You?" I asked, stunned at her words. "You're the one who's going to whip me?"

"Your aunt thought it would be amusing for her white slave to be whipped by a black mistress," she said as she placed a hand in between my thighs and began to feel me up. "I thought it was a great idea too, so I agreed to go along with it."

I found myself irresistibly drawn to Simone. I gasped and panted as she ran her hands all over me. Her hands were wicked and demanding. She examined me like she was examining a naked girl at the slave market, checking the firmness of my buttocks, pulling my pubic lips far apart and thrusting her demanding fingers deep inside, assessing the tightness of my pussy, roughly squeezing my breasts and even examining my pink asshole.

I felt a wave of confused excitement at the rough way she explored my body and my mind drifted to shaming images of me submitting to Simone, groveling at her feet, humiliating myself in front of her for her entertainment.

"I have to go and choose a whip," Simone said as she took her hands away. "I'll be sure to select something that stings. I wouldn't want your aunt to think that I'm going easy on you."

I shifted my weight from one foot to another as I waited for Simone to return. I tugged forcefully at the ropes that held my wrists, but it was a wasted effort. I wasn't going anywhere. It wasn't long before I gave up, rested my forehead against the post, and closed my eyes.

Before Simone returned, Aunt Helen arrived with the crowd of overprivileged women, ready to enjoy my suffering. A chair was carried over for my aunt so she could sit and view me in profile. Ms. Astor was in the front row and stood near my aunt. There were so many affluent women staring at me that I felt totally overwhelmed. They were all wide-eyed and eagerly waiting to see my naked body painfully marked up by the whip. I trembled at the thought, and my heart pounded frantically in my chest.

I was terribly afraid. My body was flooded with adrenaline, and I was trembling with nervous energy. My aunt was within earshot, but I didn't beg her for mercy. The cold look in her eyes made it clear that my punishment was inevitable and there were no words I could say that would sway her to show me the slightest mercy.

Scores of women openly stared at my naked body, making me feel more naked and exposed than I'd ever thought possible. And then Simone returned, carrying the whip she would use on my helpless, naked body.

The whip was thin, snakelike, and I could tell immediately that it would inflict a wicked sting. I reflexively squirmed at the sight of it.

Simone set her whip down on the wooden crate and placed her hands on my hips and said, "Well, naked girl, are you ready to scream?"

I trembled at her touch and with a desperate throb in my voice, I asked, "Would you like me to scream, Mistress?"

"It's more entertaining when slaves scream," Simone allowed as her hands wandered down lower and she tenderly touched my plump pubic lips, "but you won't be able to help it." She leaned in closer.

"Put on a good performance for the crowd, and I just might give you a reward afterward," she whispered.

My pussy was sopping wet. Simone smeared some of the wetness over my vulva, then she felt me up from front to back, parting my swollen labia, stroking a finger along my moistened cleft. I moaned and nodded my head. I promised Simone that I would give an entertaining performance for the crowd, but she'd already turned back to the crate.

Simone's whip slashed across both of my buttocks, and I cried out in pain. It wasn't so much a performance as my body's legitimate reaction to the cruel assault of a leather strap smacking against my innocent, naked flesh.

Her whip curled around my upper body and snapped across my breasts. I cried out in pain and yanked frantically against the ropes that held my wrists. My struggles soon proved fruitless, and my breasts were whipped again and again. The leather whip scorched my naked flesh, leaving red lines of heated pain across my chest.

"Aaaaahhhhh!"

A wave of dark, masochistic heat swept over me as I felt another sharp blow across the backs of my thighs, then a third across my abdomen. I twisted my head to see Simone behind me smirking as she drew her arm back for another blow.

I writhed and screamed lustily as Simone's whip cut across my breasts. And before I could recover from the sting of that assault, her whip snapped stingingly across my buttocks.

The crowd of women cheered Simone on and urged her to whip me more. The cheering seemed to energize her, and the cuts from her whip became even more cruel and agonizing.

"Aaaahhhh! No!!!"

Simone's whip sliced across my right hip and snapped down across my abdomen to bite into the soft flesh of my shaved loins. I squealed in pain, my hips bucking violently even as Simone's whip cut across my breasts again and again. The pain mounted, but as the pain became more intense, so did the stirring in my loins.

I danced frantically under the whip, twisting this way and that. Simone seemed to be aiming her whip at my loins, which filled me with a delicious sort of fear. Like when her whip landed against my lower abdomen just above my shaved pubes, or when the next cut landed at the top of my thigh and the tail end of the whip snapped cruelly against my outer labia.

I screamed in helpless agony as Simone painted my body with stinging red stripes. The way I was bound, my movements were severely restricted and no matter how much I thrashed and writhed there was no way to get away from the sting of her whip.

"Aaaauuugh, nooooooooo, aaaaaaaaaugghhh!" I screamed as three more cuts seared my skin. My aunt and her guests were visibly enjoying my reactions, although by then my eyes had welled up with tears, so my view of them was remarkably blurry.

The large audience of well-dressed women were clustered all around me, viewing my painful humiliation from a multitude of angles. They called out to Simone, boisterously, cheering her on and encouraging her to make me scream.

"Bad girl!" one of the women shouted at me. This was followed up shortly with another woman screaming, "Shameless slut!"

I danced in agonizing pain as Simone whipped the most intimate parts of my body, and at some point, I pressed my legs together, concealing my delicate pink slit. It resulted in Simone whipping the backs of my thighs a lot more. However, the crowd could tell that getting my thighs whipped didn't hurt nearly as much as getting my tender, swollen labia whipped.

"Tie her legs open," my aunt ordered when Simone complained about how I was protecting my delicate pubes from her whip.

"Please no," I pleaded, but my aunt ignored my protestations.

Two of my aunt's servants brought out ropes and assisted Simone in spreading my ankles far apart and tying them to sturdy metal rings securely embedded in the ground.

With my legs spread pornographically wide, my pink slit was shamefully exposed and defenseless. Simone could do whatever she wanted to it.

I felt a surge of panic and tried to close my legs together, but the ropes that held my ankles apart were strong and secure. All my desperate struggles accomplished was some chafing of my ankles. Then Simone stepped up behind me, set her whip down on the wooden crate, and placed a hand between my legs.

"You don't get to hide your charms from me slave girl," she said as she gently stroked my moist cleft. "Your naughty pussy belongs to me. I'll do whatever I want with it, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

Her words, her domineering attitude and her tone of voice had a profound effect on me. The idea that my body was owned by Simone felt real and exciting and I got swept along in an overwhelming sensation of submission. I whimpered as she stroked my pubic lips and felt as if I truly were her property.

I stood there, spread-eagle, gasping, breasts heaving, my naked body decorated with whip marks and Simone's fingers brushing across my swollen clit, coaxing it to emerge from its hood. It was so hard and swollen, and my levels of sexual excitement surged. I panted urgently. I didn't care how many people were staring at me at that moment. A potent orgasm was building inside me, and I just wanted to cum.

I could feel my orgasm approaching and just as I was about to explode in blissful climax, Simone removed her hand. I whimpered and writhed my hips in a shameless manner. The large crowd of women laughed at my obvious sexual frustration and then, Simone picked up her whip and circled around so she was standing right in front of me.

"Patience, slave-girl," she said softly, her voice delicious, silky, and seductive. "You'll get your reward. But I get to have my fun first."

Simone took up position behind me and began whipping me again, peeling off a steady stream of cuts, aimed directly at my exposed, swollen pubic lips. Some of the stinging blows snapped across my tender inner thighs, some across my reddening labia, and even one or two across my hard, swollen clitoris.

"Oh Gaaawwwwd! Noooooooo! Aauuugh!"

I squirmed and tried to twist away, but the ropes that held me made sure that I could barely move. Mostly I just jerked my hips around in a shameless manner.

"Aaaaahhhhh! Nooooooooo!"

I wailed frantically. Pain began to swim over me like a hellish aphrodisiac. As much as each cut hurt my defenseless pink slit, I realized that Simone's whip was intensifying my sexual arousal. My cries of pain became moans and gasps. Then she stopped.

I was untied and led away from the whipping post. The crowds were very vocal in their disappointment. However, my aunt was wise enough to know that a slave can only take so much abuse in one day, and the whipping I'd received had drained me both physically and emotionally.

I was handed over to an employee named Sasha. She was a petite brunette with an innocent face. She was ordered to give me a sponge bath and to rub healing ointments into my skin. The whip marks would fade, even without the ointment, however, the greasy substance Sasha was to rub into my skin would speed up the process.