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Tie me up and whip me
Looking back on that wonderful summer in France, when my Daddy and I discovered so much about ourselves and each other, and cemented the bond of our love and our lust with our dirty experiments and wonderfully depraved perversions, three things are very clear in my mind.
The first one is of course just the lovely memory of the good times we had together. Even now, quite a few years later, we still have a lot of fun together, playing the same dirty games, and lots of new ones, which I promise I will describe for you, so do make yourself “comfortable” and keep reading! But doing all these great things for the first time was really very special. It was very exciting and very, very dirty. My mouth is dry just remembering. You know, you only get one chance to do something for the very first time, and these were some very special “first times”.
The second memory is that truthfully, my Daddy didn’t in any way trick or trap me in to doing any of the things we did. I know I had only just turned seventeen, and arguable I was still very young. However. Even then I knew my own mind, and I was, and still am, up for absolutely anything and everything with him. As these written memories prove, in a way it was really me that lead him astray rather than him perverting and debauching his innocent daughter. The only thing he asked me to do was to “lead him on.” I did, and I enjoyed doing it!
However, the third thing that impresses me more than anything else is my logical, schoolgirl maturity. I wanted my Daddy to cum, so I wore nothing but my sexy heels and masturbated him against my stomach. I didn’t know if he would be up for piss games, so to find out, I sat naked on the edge of a table, spread my legs, and pissed all over his cock. We then discovered that I like pain, so I bought him a belt and got him to wank over me after he’d belted my bare bum and stomach.
It was after this last experience that we gave up all the pseudo-moral, Puritan, father/daughter crap, and stopped even trying to pretend that although this was perhaps all the result of an innocent discovery; we had moved on. We were enjoying ourselves and each other too much to just stop. We wanted to do this! We loved each even more as father and daughter, and still do, very much, but we also enjoyed every second of our heavy, dirty, depraved and perverted sex together. And so we go on; he loves my dirty mind, and the look and feel of my smooth skin and slim body and my heavy tits and oh, so spankable arse, and I love it when he gets me to do dirty, depraved things for him. My reward is seeing his hard cock erupt all over me.
So, a couple of days after our previous escapade, when he’d whipped me with the belt I’d bought him specially for the purpose, we sat down to lunch; well, he sat down, I perched gingerly on a pile of cushions. My arse was still throbbing; red raw where he’d whipped the belt down on to it time after time. In fact, if you remember, to avoid having too much damage done to my bum I’d had to stop him and lie over on my back and have him belt me across the stomach until I had what was in fact my first ever orgasm.
Now, that had been my first orgasm, but it wasn’t going to be my last! We still had this unspoken agreement about me keeping my virginity, and it turned out that I liked pain and apparently I could take quite a lot of it, so being spanked, whipped, belted, whatever, was the only way I was going to cum that summer. But my Daddy really had hurt me and it was taking days for me to recover, and I certainly wanted to cum more than once a week. The schoolgirl me could see quite clearly that it just wasn’t fair. (How often have you heard kids say that?) But it really wasn’t fair; I would make him cum all over me two or three times a day, and in return I only get one orgasm a week? It wasn’t enough, it simply wasn’t fair!
We sat and talked about it over lunch, and I agreed that whilst all the exhibitionist games I was playing did get me started, and pouring freezing cold water on my tits and then pissing for him was exciting, it was really the pain that did it for me. Having my tits abused or my body whipped was the only thing that had worked so far. It really was my pleasure to make myself stay still, offering myself to him while he hurt me. It was the only thing we could do that would make me cum, and I wanted to keep going (and cumming!), but there was a real danger of Daddy having to do too much damage to me in the process.
Then my Daddy had an inspiration.
“Baby Girl, your self control is amazing. I love the way you just lay across my lap and let me hurt and abuse your tits and then simply bent over the table while I almost drew blood from your arse with the belt. And it was even better when you climbed up on to the table and just lay down on your back so I could finish your whipping. It was simply wonderful, just amazing. But it might be better for you if you didn’t have to use so much self control and could just relax in to it.”
He gulped and started to talk very fast and very quietly, obviously excited by what he was going to suggest. I listened very closely.
“You might cum more quickly, with less pain, if you were tied up. Maybe you should be more at my mercy, more in my power. Maybe I should tie you up. Why don’t I tie you up?”
My mind went in to overdrive. Yes! To be tied up, completely at my Daddy’s mercy, unable to move, so he could do anything he wanted to me! My young cunt was wet, just thinking about it! And my Daddy had gone quiet as he was suggesting it so I knew that just talking about this had turned him on. What kind of state of excitement would he be like if we actually did it? He was my Daddy and this was something he really wanted to do to me, and knew straight away that I wanted it to happen too!
“Daddy. Let’s try it! Right now! Tie my arms to something.”
Lunch was abandoned as my Daddy went in to the house, reappearing almost immediately with a couple of his old neckties, and I found a fallen branch, which was more or less as tall as myself. As always, I was naked except for my heels, and I sat down holding my arms straight out from my sides. He took complete control:
“No. Not on a chair, kneel on the ground!”
So, naked except for my heels, I knelt on the grass, and he held the branch across the back of my shoulders and tied first one then the other of my wrists to each end. The branch was too heavy for me to support like this, so he went back in for another couple of neckties and with them tied my elbows to the branch too. This was much more comfortable. I kind of shrugged my shoulders so that the branch was resting across them just at the back of my neck, and with my head bowed; there I was, crucified, with my arms tied horizontally out from my body.
Kneeling with my back straight and arms tied like this had the wonderful effect of lifting and separating my soft, full breasts even more than they are usually, and I gazed down at them proudly. I know I’m boasting, but they are lovely.
Let me tell you about my breasts, my dear reader. It’ll make me feel sexy and I hope it’ll make you hot too.
I suppose I’ll have to start by admitting that now, a few years after this story I’m telling you took place, my breasts are quite heavy, almost fat, so much so that even when I am standing, sitting, or as in this case, kneeling up with my back straight, they are too wide for my slim chest; they tend to separate and are in fact wider than my body, with most of their heavy soft fullness swelling below my so kissable nipples, which tend to point upwards from the smooth upper slopes. But they are still smooth and lovely and I’m still very proud of them.
Back then, gazing down on them, they were not quite so large as they are now, but they were a little smoother and firmer. They still start to sweep forwards and out from my body, the very beginnings of the upper slopes sweeping down from just below my shoulders. Their smooth curve takes the eye down to the dark circles of my areolas, in the centre of which my nipples always seem to stand stiff and erect, pointing upwards, offering themselves to me, to my lips. I usually can’t resist them; and let me tell you that writing this I’ve just taken a moment to slip my hands under them, cradling them for a moment before bending my head down to kiss my nipples.
Closing my eyes I seem to be back there again. I remember wanting to feel them, to feel their weight in my hands and to caress and squeeze my nipples, but with my arms tied obviously I can’t. But I did just manage to bend my head down just enough to reach the very top edge of my areolas with my lips and tongue and teeth. With my wide open as I kissed myself on this sensitive part of my body, rubbing my lips and teeth from side to side and licking myself, drooling on myself in my growing excitement. I still do this to myself sometimes and love the feel of the hot fluids from my mouth trickling down over the swell of my breasts, across my areolas to drip from my nipples down onto my thighs.
I must stop doing this to myself and get on with writing down this story just as it happened.
As I’ve said, even when just standing still they are crowned with my erect nipples and they look full, soft, and perfect. I love them. Kneeling down naked except for my heels and with my arms tied straight out to a branch resting on my shoulders, they were big, soft targets; ready for whatever was going to happen next, to be whipped by my Daddy with his belt. I craned my neck back and looked up at him for orders. There was wonderful tension and excitement deep in the pit of my stomach and between my legs. I was, and still am, very excited by the memory of this, the first time my Daddy tied me up in order to whip me. I remember thinking that this was really what my tits were for, to be whipped. The rigid tent-pole of his cock inside his shorts made it obvious that in his excitement he thought they should be whipped too. Two minds with but a single thought!
I try to bring myself back to the present, to get on with writing this, remembering my Daddy’s gentle reverence as he knelt in front of me and, reaching out, gently fondled my breasts. He gently cupped them, lifting them, one in each hand, lifting them and stroking them, doing the soft, gentle things to them I had wanted to do. He softly squeezed them together then rolled my nipples between his thumbs and fingers and then placed his palms flat on their smooth upper slopes and then leant forward, suddenly pushing them hard in to my chest as though trying to make me look flat, like a boy. No chance, they’re much too big; but the weight of the pressure as he pushed them against me excited me more.
He took his hands away from my body and said:
“Shake your shoulders, Baby Girl. Shake them a little.”
With my arms tied as they were, the only way I could comply with this instruction was in fact to carefully move my whole upper body from the waist, but I did the best I could, twisting slowly from side to side. The weight of the branch to which I was crucified, tightly tied at both wrists and elbows, meant that I couldn’t really shake my breasts so much as just get them to swing slowly in front of me, swaying from side to side on my chest. At the age of seventeen I felt very sexy and sophisticated, kneeling naked in front of my Daddy and slowly showing myself off to him at his command; doing his bidding. I feel even sexier when I do it for him now!
He stood up, and said: “That looks great, Baby Girl, very sexy and very lovely.”
He removed the heavy belt that had been my present to him, from his shorts and then unfastened the waistband and took them off, letting them slip them down his legs and kicking them and his boxers out of the way. Now he was naked too. His cock was stiff, bobbing in front of his body and right in front of my face. On an impulse I leant forward and kissed the tip, taking just a little of it into my mouth and trying to gently force my tongue down the slit. Keeping his cock in my mouth I leant further forward and let it slide deeper into my mouth, back over my tongue and trapping him against the roof of my mouth until I choked slightly as its tip just grazed the back of my throat. I gagged and almost choked, and with more of my drool trickling from my mouth and running down my chin I just had to pull my head back. I remember thinking that there’s more to this deep-throat business than meets the eye!
He was immediately concerned, but there was no damage, other than to my dignity, such as I had, considering the situation, and I just shook my head and smiled up at him.
“I’m OK daddy.”
Kneeling in front of him, naked except for my heels and the branch tied to my arms, my defenceless tits gently swaying, ready, waiting, I realised that for both of us the anticipation is almost as exciting as the doing, and that we are both turned on by my willingness to offer myself, freely and happily, to whatever pain, humiliation, or degradation my Daddy wants of me.
Certainly the realisation that afternoon that for both of us this was about offering, about giving, and receiving, and that it was about the trusting exchange between two loving humans who just happened to be a father and his seventeen year old daughter. It was a turning point for both of us. He still has the power to physically hurt me; I still have the strength and the desire to accept the gift of pain he gives me. But more than that I have the power to excite him and myself, and you, I hope, dear reader, by enjoying the actuality of the pain and the memory of the pain that our love and, lets face it, depraved sexual desires created, and still create.
Hell – I’m wet just writing about this!
I realised then, and it’s still the case, that I am his, he is mine, and the world is ours.
Anyway, fuck the philosophy; you want to hear about him whipping my tits.
When we came to it, it was really quite simple. With his right hand he grasped the belt just at the buckle and wrapped it once round his fist. Then he stepped back from me and told me to sit up straight and to spread my legs wide so that my cunt just touched the grass, and to lean back, away from him, tipping my head back so that my face pointed straight up to the blue afternoon sky. It suddenly seemed to be an unusually hot day. My heart started to beat faster. Then he said’
“Lift your arms a bit more, Baby Girl, as high as you can.”
I’m sure you haven’t forgotten that I was in fact crucified by having my arms tied at the wrists and elbows to a fallen branch, so I couldn’t really lift them very high, just enough to lift my breasts just a little more. They felt absolutely free and unfettered, defenceless and unprotected. He had two distinct and perfectly shaped pale, vulnerable targets.
He stood in front of me and very gently placed the square tip of the belt on to my left breast, taking a half step further back to position himself so that its square point rested lightly right in the centre of its smooth, tanned upper slope. The rest of the belt lay across my areola. The knot in my stomach suddenly tightened and my heart was pounding and I held my breath in anticipation of what was about to occur. I was suddenly sweating very heavily. I shut my eyes.
“Don’t move, Baby Girl,” he said, “First, just the tip,” and he flicked the belt at me, in much the same way as football players sometimes flick each other for fun in the showers with wet towels, but this was the hard tip of a stiff leather belt flicking viciously down onto the smooth soft skin of my naked breast, and it wasn’t really just for fun. I grunted with the shock of the blow and cowered forward protectively, instinct telling my to shield my body.
I gasped and forced myself to breathe before straightening my back and once again offering myself to my Daddy. He once again flicked the just tip of the belt at me, once again hitting me on the left breast. This time the pain was greater and I cowered forward once again, but I still only grunted and clamped my mouth shut so as not to scream. I started to breathe noisily through my nose, quick, shallow breaths with my chest and breasts rising and falling in the rhythm. I was dizzy, hyperventilating slightly as my racing pulse started to pound in my head.
One more flick of the belt on the same left breast, once again I cowered on my knees in front of my tormentor and I squeaked as I grunted open mouthed, drool dripping from my lips into the pale valley between my breasts. I began to see the world through a pink fog as the pain started to spread its excitement from my breast to my stomach and to my cunt. There was great pain, but something else too; I began to smell my own cunt fluids as they gathered on those lower lips. My Daddy’s plan was working – I was becoming very excited by the strokes of the belt on my softest and most vulnerable flesh.
I straightened up once again and opened my eyes to smile at him, just in time to see him lift his strong right arm high above his head and bring the belt down really hard onto my left breast, the hard leather tip landing precisely where it had three times already. But this time it was no playful flick of the wrist. It smacked down on me with all the strength of his arm, punching into my defenceless skin with a sharp crack, which echoed off the surrounding walls of the garden and the house. I felt an immediate bite of shuddering pain that burned my flesh like a hot poker and sent a sudden shock of lust to arrow down through my body, straight to my cunt.
I shrieked once with pain and started to cry, cowering forward so that my forehead almost touched the grass. I knelt like that for some moments; head down, gasping to breathe through my silently gaping mouth. My nose was streaming as my tears flowed; I was aware of my drooling mouth and my dripping cunt.
I straightened my back and looked up again, fearful of what I would see.
I whispered’ “Daddy,” and gazed up to the sky, offering my now bruised and abuse left breast for further punishment. I didn’t have to wait. He lifted his arm and brought the stiff leather tip down again, smacking hard into the same soft mound of my flesh, my once beautiful, pale, bruised pain-wracked left breast. Again the crack of leather on skin echoed round the garden, and again I shrieked with pain, but this time, instead of cowering, I managed to keep my back straight and to merely bow my head. With all my heart I wanted to reach with my tied hands and arms to stroke and soothe and comfort my poor, sore flesh, to cradle my breast and smooth the pain away.
“Don’t move,” he growled, “And be quiet!”
I straightened and managed to whisper that I was sorry and tried to wipe the tears from my eyes, but of course with my crucified arms I couldn’t. I could only sob and let the tears run down my cheeks and let my nose stream over my upper lip and into my open mouth as I gasped for short, shallow breaths, kneeling naked and tied on the grass in front of my father, my master, my loving Daddy, and wait for whatever he was going to do to me next.
I closed my eyes as I heard the belt whistle through the air and tried to ready myself for further pain in my left breast. But this time his target was my right one. No messing around with warm up flicks this time! The hard tip of the belt landed in the exactly corresponding place on the soft, smooth upper slope of my right breast, and this time the pain was even greater, not because of any subtle increase in my sensitivity or sexual awareness, not even because of the sweat glistening on my body as I knelt there defenceless in the hot afternoon sun, but because he had relaxed into his task and was quite simply hitting me harder. This time I was beyond cowering. I barely moved but just knelt there in front of him, so he gave me no time to recover; he immediately hit me again, the tip of the belt punching deep into the same place, the upper slope of my right breast. I was now howling with pain; sniffing deeply and swallowing to try to clear my nose as my tears streamed down my face. Through the deepening pink haze that seemed to envelope me I could once again smell my own cunt fluids.
I glanced down at my body, which now dripped with my sweat, shining in the French afternoon sun, and after a moment managed to make my eyes focus on the deep red marks the vicious tip of the belt had left in the pale, soft upper skin of my aching breasts. I remember thinking that the sharp, angular bruises looked like three sides of a square and that they were curiously at odds with the smooth curves of my body, which was otherwise completely unmarked in any way, still a perfect seventeen year old girl’s.
“Lean further back and keep looking up, and for God’s sake keep still. I don’t want to hit your face by mistake!”
At first I thought he sounded really angry with me, but I realised later that he was just trying to protect me. He was obviously very excited, but his head was still clear enough for him to try to keep me safe from an accident, should his lust overtake him completely and he just start flailing away at me. I was still kneeling, so leaning further back meant that in order to continue to support myself I had to spread my legs even further as I followed his orders, my stomach muscles as tight and hard as rock as they struggled with the weight of my head, my upper body, and the heavy branch to which my arms were tied. With my body leaning further back my heavy breasts spread wider on my chest, gravity separating them almost as much as my thighs. My stomach muscles were hard as steel, trembling with the effort of holding myself up as I waited for the next crack of the belt on my body. I let my head flop backwards and stared at the sky again for a moment before closing my eyes. There was a rushing sound in my ears and I felt my sweat trickle down my back as I waited, gasping for breath and with my heart pounding, the lovely, dreadful anticipation of what was to come filling my mind.
I waited for my Daddy to strike my body again.
Not for long: I once again heard the belt whistle through the air and once again felt the sharp crack of pain as the evil leather tip bit into the exposed inside of my right breast. It was as though it had punched deep into me – I felt the weight of the blow bite through my soft flesh; I swear I felt it in the bones of my body. Involuntarily I screamed and tried to cower protectively forward, but with my back arched as it was I couldn’t. So just knelt on the grass and sweated and wept even more, staring up at my loving tormentor through a mask of pain as I offered myself to his belt.
He hit me again in the same place, and I shrieked as the tip of the belt punched deep into my bare breast twice more, then three times more, each time the hard leather flattening it against my body, causing further bruising to my previously unmarked and perfectly tanned skin. Through my fog of pain and excitement I found that with each stroke my back was arching, pushing my sweating, glistening, pain wracked flesh up towards my persecutor as I knelt naked on the grass with my legs wide apart, eager for the agony and submission of the next crack of the leather on my soft body. I was weeping continuously now, crying real tears of real pain, struggling to breathe fast through my open mouth and trying to control my shouts and screams.
Dear reader; I do hope that you find reading about this torture, which I had after all invited to be inflicted on myself, is as exciting for you as the memory is for me. I would love to see your cock as hard and rigidly erect as my loving Daddy’s was, perhaps sticky with some of your fluids; I would sooth it for you with my slim hand, maybe kiss it gently on the tip and lick it softly for you, as I had done immediately before this, my first breast whipping. But make no mistake, as well as being very exciting, very sexually stimulating, the pain was appalling, the devastating cracks as the belt smacked down hard, hard, HARD, on my soft, full breasts, inflaming my bruised flesh, was driving me towards the edge of a kind of agonised sexual insanity.
Because, as well as the mind-numbing pain which was centred on my breasts and which was beginning to overwhelm my whole body, my pleasure, my deep sexual desire, my frankly cunt-dripping lust for more and more gorgeous and intimate sensation, for more and more depraved excitement, for more and more pain, was also coursing through my body, taking with it the remains of my consciousness. With what was left of my mind I had felt it start, and then to grow, and to develop, like a huge throbbing monster deep inside me, deep in my womb, deep between my legs. I felt my whole body glow as though on fire, as though scalded by steam, as the huge wave of my depraved lust swept through me and my sweet wetness gushed from the lips of my virgin cunt. I have never felt so naked and exposed as I was then, with my sweet fluids dripping between my wide open thighs for the pleasure of my naked, cruel father, my loving Daddy, who was whipping my young breasts with the belt I’d given him.
I was now too hoarse to scream, I merely squealed again and again as he changed targets, reverting to abusing my other breast, the left one that he had initially started to whip, all those minutes ago, until it too was covered in deep red weals, their pale, square ridges created by the cruel tip of my Daddy’s belt.
By now my tits, my lovely sweet, soft, full tits, of which I was and still am so proud, had ceased to exist as things of beauty for me. They were just two bruised and abused masses of glowing red agony, sending their urgent messages of pain and depraved desire arrowing down through my body to my gaping virgin cunt. (I have to tell you, dear reader, that writing all this down, it’s as though I’m back there again. Once again as I sit here writing this, my memories make the sweat run down my back and shine between my breasts as I spread my legs to let my sex drip from my body, the sticky fluid trickling down from my cunt lips. I feel as sexy and as hot as hell. I need you here with me, now!))
My straining stomach muscles had given up the struggle to support my pain-wracked body and my long legs had folded completely under me. I had collapsed backwards and was lying on my back on the lawn, my raised arse, which was still tender from the belting it had received only a couple of days previously, rested on my crossed ankles and my back and shoulders were flat on the grass. My broad hips were the highest part of my body and so I lay there in my pain, basking in my Daddy’s gaze, my body shining with my sweat in the hot afternoon sun and the lips of my dripping virgin cunt completely exposed to his merciless glare. As my shoulders were now lower than my raised hips my bruised and abused tits had changed again so that their soft, pale undersides were now fully exposed; ready to take their share of the torment.
There was a brief pause, and I opened my eyes to watch, to try to see what my torturer was going to do to me next.
He was standing by my right knee where it was folded back on itself, savouring the delicious display of my punished and abused body as I lay there sobbing on the grass, my arms tied flat out beside me, and my legs folded back under my hips, spread wide to offer him a perfect view of every part of my young body. His cock stood out stiff in front of his body, its tip shiny, dripping with his sexual needs. I watched as a rope of his sticky, viscous fluid slowly swung down from him like a spider swinging down from a branch to land on the broadest part of my thigh. I could see in his eyes that there was no question but that he wanted hurt me more, to hit me again. I lifted my hips upwards, thrusting my spread open body towards him as a mute offering of my complete love and devotion, of my complete trust in him and of my deep desire to be punished by his love, to be made to hurt again and again as he brought me towards our loving goal; my orgasm.
I sniffed and swallowed to clear my nose again, and managed to stop snivelling and watch in tearful silence as leant over me and stretched his left hand down between my legs to run his fingertips gently over the lips of my aching cunt, soaking them with my fluids. Lifting them slowly so that a second rope of our mutual lust stretched between us, from my cunt to his lips, he carefully licked his fingers clean then stood straight, naked, tall, and terrible, standing over me once again as my father, and my master.
My Daddy.
“Let your head fall back again, Baby Girl, there’s more to do.”
With a weak smile I nodded through my tears and as my eyes closed I saw him once again raise his right arm high above his head. My head flopped back to the ground and I took up the exposed and defenceless position he had demanded.
The belt whistled through the air and landed on my body.
Now, up to this time my Daddy had been using just the tip to carefully hit me on the soft mound of the upper slopes of my tits, but this time the length of the belt landed diagonally across my stomach; I felt it thud deep into the tightly stretched flesh of my smooth, slim abdomen, just above the swell of my right hip bone, before carving a track of pain right across my body, almost collapsing my prominent ribcage so that the wickedly whipping belt-end landed with an evil crack on the soft skin of the pale underside of my left breast, the tip cracking down on my areola, just below my nipple.
I shrieked with pain and tried to wrench myself into an upright sitting position, desperately trying to cup my injured breast in my hands, but crucified as I was, of course I couldn’t. I just lay there, howling in my pain, unable to believe that my Daddy, my loving, dependable Daddy, could do such a thing to me. I was rocking back and forwards but also thrusting my pelvis up and down, trying to press my desperate cunt hard down on my crossed anklebones as a wave of lust and desire and desperate sexual need washed over me and through me. A mini orgasm.
Then I was lying on my back again, once again pushing my spread thighs up towards my Daddy, offering myself to him. Again he raised his arm and the belt thudded down into my young body, knocking the very breath from my lungs as it once again arced its line of pain across me. The hard, squared leather tip again whipped wickedly into my bruised and aching areola.
At this point the pain was just so bad that I simply couldn’t shout or scream. I just gasped and lay there motionless, my mouth wide open but unable to breath, my eyes staring straight up at the blue summer sky and then focussing on my Daddy as he stood over me, naked, with his belt coiled round his fist, ready to hit me with it again. His cock was rigid, a hard pole of flesh which swayed and bobbed in front of him as he raised his arm yet again and brought the belt down to track across my body once again, once again its line of fire burning across my stomach from my hip bone to my areola. He hit me again, and again, and again, all in the same place, and still I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. I just lay there as the fire burned into me, the fire started by my Daddy’s belt as it tore its diagonal strip of fiery agony across my body, speechlessly staring up at my torturer through a pink haze, a fog of pain as I felt the fire suddenly burn deep into my cunt.
I just lay there as the fire burned inside me too. Waves of lust, of urgent sexual need suddenly enveloped me, filling my cunt to overflowing with the sweet, thick fluids that gushed from between my spread thighs to trickle over my feet and ankles where they were bent back under me.
With a scream I coughed and started to breathe again, my chest heaving as I sucked in the oxygen I had been denied, my pale, soft tits glistening with my sweat in the hot sun as they rose and fell with my breathing. Drool trickled from the corners of my mouth and my tears flowed from the corners of my eyes. I closed my mouth and once again sniffed hard and swallowed deeply, trying to clear my nose so I could breathe through it, but it was hopeless. My tear-filled, snot-filled nose was streaming over my upper lip and into my mouth.
Through my pain, my fear, my lust, my driving need, I managed to smile weakly up at my Daddy, as he stood with his stiff cock dripping a thick rope of his fluids. He crossed to stand beside my other knee. I coughed, and whispered,
“I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m not very pretty for you just now.”
He stopped and turned to look at me.
“Oh, Baby Girl, you are beautiful. You are always beautiful. You’re beautiful in your pain and your excitement. You’re beautiful in your nakedness. You’re beautiful in the way you let me do these things to you and let me fulfil my heart’s desire with you. You’re beautiful in the way you excite me and in the way you love me.”
I cried again, this time not because of the pain, but because of the enveloping love I felt flow over me from my father, my sweet, , fierce, loving Daddy.
“I love you, Baby Girl.”
“I love you Daddy,” and for a moment neither of us moved, we just gazed into each other’s eyes, my Daddy naked and standing over me with his stiff cock dripping on me as I lay flat on my back, naked, at his feet.
Then I slowly closed my eyes and whispered,
“I think I’m almost there Daddy. Can you do the same to other side?”
Once again the belt came crashing down on me, and once again the breath was driven from my body as the weight of the blow thudded into me and the wickedly whipping belt tip cracked into the lower part of the areola of my right breast. Daddy had once again hit me diagonally across my body, but this time from the other side, from my left hipbone, across my abdomen and rib cage to my right breast.
I moaned, but otherwise didn’t move as I felt my excitement grow, spreading out from my cunt in waves which grew in intensity until I was almost drowning in the pink mist. I spread my legs even more and rocked my pelvis at my Daddy.
“Again, please.”
He hit me again with the belt, and my whole body shuddered as I fought for breath and I lay on my back, savouring my pain and my excitement and my wetness; my sweat, my tears, and my dripping cunt. I wished it would last forever.
The belt swung down on my body again, once again punishing me with its fiery stripe of fierce pain, a stripe of red flesh glowing from my hip to my areola. I lay there for him. Daddy whipped me again, and again, and I just lay there at his feet in pain and in ecstasy. He whipped me once more, and then I must have passed out for a moment, because with no warning I felt his hands lifting me under my shoulders. From a far distance his voice said,
“Can you stand up? I’ll help you.”
I opened my eyes and found that I was standing, unsteady on my heels as the circulation flooded back into my legs after they had been folded under me for so long. Daddy was behind me, whispering in my ears and supporting me, steadying me with his arms around me. My arms were still tied to the branch so I couldn’t protect myself and he couldn’t stop himself; his hands gently soothed my tortured breasts as they swung free on my chest. His naked body was pressed against mine and I could feel his stiff cock pressing hard into my back. I sighed and pressed back against him and enjoyed his loving caresses.
Once my legs had recovered he squeezed my nipples once, hard, and reluctantly let my breasts go free and stretched out to take me by the hand.
“Can you climb up on to the table now? Take my hand.”
He guided me to a chair to use as a stepping-stone up on to the table, which he had cleared of the remains of our lunch.
My eyes were red and my face was puffy with my dried tears. The pain in my breasts was subsiding a little, but they were glowing red where the belt had punched into them on their smooth upper sides and their full lower globes. I had a St. Andrew’s cross of pain burned into my stomach.
“Jesus!” I thought, what a mess. I sniffed and tried to swallow to clear my nose, but I was too dry.
“I need a drink, Daddy”, I croaked through cracked lips.
“Okay, Baby Girl. Kneel down on the table like you were before, and I’ll bring you one of your favourite beers.”
So, crucified and naked except for my heels and with nothing I could do to prevent my breasts swinging free I accepted his assistance to climb onto the table and to settle down in the same kneeling position as before, only this time I was perched on the table with my back to one end of it. Daddy very quickly appeared with an icy cold glass of my favourite cloudy Belgian wheat beer, and held it to my parched lips. I drank greedily, tipping my head back as the level in the glass went down. He tried to keep pace with my drinking but got slightly ahead of me so that some of the beer spilled down my chin and down onto my breasts. The freezing cold beer was wonderful as it trickled over them.
“Daddy, could you get me another, and spill a bit more of it this time?”
He reappeared with two glasses this time. The first one he helped me to drink just as greedily as before, “accidentally” spilling quite a lot of it down me, and then he simply emptied the second glass all over my breasts and stomach. The freezing cold beer poured over me, soothing the overheated flesh of my breasts and stomach, and soaking my pubic hair. Daddy bent down and kissed and licked me low on my stomach and then carefully sucked my pubic hair dry. He kissed me there and stood up, just as the beer made me burp once gently, making my breasts bounce.
He bent forward and kissed my nipples and said,
“I’m going to whip these now. You haven’t really come yet so I’ll have to whip your nipples until you do.”
Once again the tight knot of anticipation and fear was back in my stomach, just where he’d kissed me.
“This will really hurt you, Baby.”
I started to cry but without being told pulled myself as upright as I could, settling the branch on my shoulders and lifting myself as high as I could, so as to display my breasts and my stiff nipples to my Daddy. And I waited.
He was standing behind me so there was absolutely no warning when the belt suddenly smashed into the right hand side of my ribcage with its thin covering of skin just below my armpits, wrapped itself round the side of my right breast, flattened my right nipple hard into my breast and with its wickedly whipping tip cracked down hard, hard, hard on my left nipple, flattening both breasts into my body with the impact. I didn’t have time to react, or even to draw breath to scream when it happened again. The belt, my gift to my father, given to him for this very purpose, was doing its job, curling wickedly round my naked body to flatten my breasts and whip my nipples so that I reached the heavenly state of sexual excitement and complete release we call an orgasm.
I threw my head back and howled in my pain and my pleasure, my deep fast breathing raising my chest and breasts as my loving father unerringly found his target; our target I should say. I was in deep, unremitting pain; individual belt strokes were almost meaningless; it was the totality that mattered. I was in agony really, as he whipped me round my body time after time, my nipples flattening into my soft breasts, my breasts in turn flattening against my chest, my very chest feeling as though it would collapse under the weight of the blows from the leather belt my sweet loving Daddy was using to whip me to orgasm.
It was exciting, it was wonderful, and it was coming to an end. All too soon he stopped and I felt myself come down. We were both exhausted, I couldn’t take much more, but I still felt slightly unsatisfied. I had just had a great orgasm and even though my breasts certainly couldn’t take any more punishment at that time, but I still felt that I had more in me. I still needed an orgasm. There had to be a way.
I opened my eyes and saw my father. He’d come round to stand beside me and was looking at me.
“Are you all right, Baby Girl?”
“Sure Daddy. Thanks. That was wonderful,” which sounds a bit casual, I know, but I did really mean it.
And I knelt there on the table, looking down at my bruised and battered body. I really had taken some punishment, but was it all worthwhile if I still felt I had more to give? I was looking thoughtfully down between my breasts at the St. Andrew’s cross that had been whipped onto my stomach. I suddenly knew what had to happen. I knew what I had to ask my Daddy to do to me. I was excited again, not just sexually excited, but also the way I had been when I had been given a treat as a little girl!
“Daddy. Will you trust me and do exactly what I ask? Please. I need this now or all this will have been wasted!”
He looked surprised.
“You want more? You really want more?”
“Yes Daddy, but this will be a little different. Is there a stool on the ground behind me?”
I was still tied to the branch so turning to look for myself was really impossible.
“Yes Baby Girl. Do you want me to put it on the table?”
“No Daddy. Leave it where it is. I want you to bend me over backwards until my head is resting on that stool.”
He went to help me off the table.
“No, no, Daddy. I want to stay kneeling up here. Just bend me over backwards so that I’m kind of upside down, still kneeling on the table but with my head below me, as it were, on the stool.”
“Okay, but it will be difficult to hit your breasts when you’re upside down like that.”
“ That’s okay. I don’t want that. What I want you to do is this. This position will spread my legs and stretch my stomach as tight as tight. I want you to use the belt to hit me on the place between my belly button and my pubic hair where the two arms of the St. Andrew’s cross intersect on my body. And…”
I paused, gulped, and went on, my voice shaking with fear and excitement at what I was about to say.
“This time hold the belt by the other end and hit me with the buckle.”
I tried to reassure him, and to an extent, myself.
“My stomach muscles will be as hard as anything. They’ll be like steel. The buckle will probably just bounce off.”
He was still doubtful.
“Please Daddy. We’ve come this far. My body is marked ‘n bruised to hell ‘n back anyway. Please. PLEASE. I’m really begging you.”
“Okay, Baby Girl. You don’t have to beg for anything from me. We’ll do it.”
And he once again placed his hands under my shoulders and gently lowered me backwards, lowering my head way down off the end of the table until my it was resting on the stool. My heart was racing, my blood thumping in my ears. Could I go through with this? My legs were crossed under me trapped by my own weight, and I had to ask my father to help spread my thighs. I wanted my cunt to be completely open and exposed with nothing even remotely touching it. I wanted to know if I could cum, really cum purely from the delicious mixture of my exhibitionism, my pain, and my love for my Daddy.
He stood behind me.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Not quite, Daddy. Come forward for a moment.”
So he moved forward until he was standing with his legs parted on either side of my head, and I lay there for a moment, gazing up at his rigid cock as it towered above me. I strained upwards and stretched out with my tongue and just managed to flick it over his balls where the hung tightly at the base of his hard-on just above my face.
Then I shouted,
“Hit me!”
And he did.
I watched as he took one step back and swung his arm high above his head and brought the belt buckle down fast and hard, right on its target, my abdomen, the smooth area of my body halfway between my belly button and my pubic hair. My stomach muscles were stretched like steel, but just as the buckle punched into me I tried my best to relax them and was rewarded by feeling the hard brass buckle sink deep into my body, knocking the breath from me in a way that all the breast whipping had failed to do, and sending an agonising arrow of lust deep between my legs, to my gaping cunt.
Upside down and in an impossible position as I was, I was rocking my hips and pelvis, spreading my legs so that I was fucking the air as my orgasm swept through me. My body shuddered and it seemed to contract to nothing for a moment. Then it suddenly exploded and I screamed my heart out, screamed my lungs out, screamed my self hoarse in a moment, as I forced my legs wide apart and felt my cunt contract, squeezing itself down to nothing before it too exploded to send a spray of my sexual fluids from between my legs to shower the length of the table, soaking my thighs in my sweet aromatic fluids. I pumped my fluids out time after time, still fucking the air with my gaping, dripping, squirting cunt. I was gone. My mind was gone. I was in another world of my pain, of real severe pain where my breasts had been battered and abused, and I’d been punched in the stomach, and of my pleasure, of dry mouthed, urgent, demanding lust, where nothing mattered except my urgent, demanding, virgin cunt, squeezing and squeezing the last of my lust from me.
And then it was over.
I relaxed my body completely and felt all the beer I’d drunk during and after lunch well up inside my bladder, just below where the buckle had punched into me, and I pissed myself. I pissed all over my thighs and knees, some of the hot fluid running the length of the table to pour off the far end, the rest leaking backwards under my arse to drip from the table, and to trickle down my back and soak the back of my head where it rested on the stool.
That summer, as you’ll remember from my earlier memories, I’d quickly lost any embarrassment I may have felt about bodily functions in front of my father, so I just lay there and pissed, and pissed, and then stayed lying in my own piss.
There was still one thing had to happen, and I wouldn’t move until it had.
“Thank you Daddy. Would you like to wank on me now?”
And he did.
He stood with my head between his legs, and I looked up at his cock and balls as he wanked on my stomach, spraying his cum on me just where the belt buckle had sunk deep into me and done its wonderful thing.
I hope you will wank for me too. Please do it now, for me.
Kiss.
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