The Discipline Begins

"If it is no inconvenience to you sir, I should sooner have the remaining strokes now." She smiled as winningly as her tear ravaged face allowed.

Sir Richard appeared to deliberate, then reach a decision. "Very well, but do try to hold your position, girl. It's damned difficult to land a blow properly on a moving target. Right, thirteen..."

Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen - as awful blow fell upon awful blow, Florence doubted her will to endure would hold - seventeen - but by embracing the pain, putting her consciousness into it -- eighteen - she found the strength to stand up under the fiery swipes -- nineteen - tracing the sensations that coursed through the enraged flesh -- twenty - giving full voice to her anguished sobs - twenty-one, - centring the pain in the sympathetic heat in her loins -- twenty-two -- feeling her pussy moisten and open - twenty-three - glorying in the utter depravity of her subjugation -- twenty-four - oh yes, she could do this...

"You can stand up now, Miss Roberts."

Florence stood and smartly stepped her feet together. Suddenly light-headed, she staggered on the high heels, only to find Sir Richard's arms around her waist, steadying her. Grateful, she leant her weight against him, and looking up at her master through bleary tear-stained eyes, lower lip atremble, she asked, "Are we friends now, sir?"

By answer Sir Richard planted the most tender of kisses upon her on her forehead. "Yes, Florence, I think henceforth you and I shall be the firmest of friends."

Florence snuggled against her master's breast, feeling the stiffness of Sir Richard's cock against her thigh "I am so very glad," she said, and taking his hand in hers she guided it to the rigid member.

Pressing her body against that of her master, Florence ran her hands down his chest as she sunk onto her haunches. Untying her apron she let the fabric drop to reveal her plump youthful breasts, pulling the unbuttoned dress apart to expose them fully, the pert girlish nipples presenting themselves in the lilac satin quarter cups. Still tearful, she sniffed, and smiled up at Sir Richard, as the ageing knight vigourously pumped his manhood, the bedewed glans glistening inches from her face. Her abused bottom burning like a hotplate, she struggled to hold back sobs of pain and joy, as the thick veiny penis performed its dance before her, a masculine display of mastery and courtship.

Then Sir Richard came, the sticky white load spurting in gobbets onto Florence cheek and chin and smattering her bared bosom. Licking a little cum from the corner of her mouth, Florence stared down in fascination at the white pearls dappling her breasts. "Thank you, sir, " was all she could think to say.

Sir Richard was breathing hard. "Dear God," he muttered. Conscious of his age Florence hoped he had no over-exerted himself.

Retying her apron, Florence rose a little unsteadily to her feet, the stinging heat in her bottom making each movement a new experience in pain. "Will that be all?" she asked

"For tonight, Miss Roberts," Sir Richard replied. "For tonight."

END