Chapter 7
Beth and I were released and the stage lights went down. Blessedly,
white terrycloth robes were given to us before we were escorted out of the room.
We were both exhausted and didn't talk as they led us back to my room. To my
surprise, Beth was locked in the room with me. We both collapsed on the couch,
still not talking. The hangover of emotion was worse for me than the lingering
sting and soreness of my skin.
She finally looked over at me and gave me a weak smile, saying, "I told
you we were in this together. I'm sorry I let you down." As she said this she
casually opened her robe, leaned back and fanned the open flaps to cool her
inflamed breasts, tummy and thighs.
I looked at the abused skin, realizing she had gone through much more
than I, and I said, "No, I'm the one who needs to apologize. I promised you I'd
give it my best shot, then all I did was stand there like an idiot." Forgetting
for the moment my outrage at being a prisoner in this house of horrors, I added,
"I just wish there was some way to make it up to you."
"Do you mean it?"
"Yes, I'm serious, I feel just terrible."
"Well," she said with a smile, "there is a lotion that works like magic
to take away the sting and redness after a whipping. After we shower, would you
put some on me."
I felt a strange flutter in my tummy, and another kind of flutter
further down, but I felt committed. I nodded and we went to shower. I was
uncomfortable at the idea, but didn't want to act like the prude I was when Beth
suggested we save time by showering together. Her close proximity gave me goose
bumps, and the inner tremors increased when she suggested we soap each other's
backs. Nothing overtly sexual happened, however, so I felt less intimidated
when we dried each other's back sides.
She laid down on her stomach in the middle of the bed after handing me
the bottle of lotion. I scrunched up next to her and began gently rubbing the
cool white lotion on the backs of her legs, feeling a return of the fluttering
sensations. I skipped her butt, though it had taken the most punishment, and
went to the middle of her back to the top of the redness. She gave off steady
moans of pleasure, and when I worked down to the small of her back she made her
desire known by wiggling her tight butt cheeks suggestively.
By this time the stirring inside me carried my hands to the firm swell
of her buttocks. I couldn't deny to myself that rubbing this intimate flesh was
making me feel a strong arousal.
I almost didn't want her to turn over, but when she did, the sight of
her abused breasts, flat stomach, and nearly hairless V, jolted my inner
excitement to another level. Again I started with her thighs. She kept her
legs close together, so I was able to rub around and past her pubic area without
too much discomfort. When I got to the bottom of her rib cage I couldn't keep
from glancing again and again at her tits. I wanted desperately to touch them,
and at the same time I was cringing inwardly at the idea of putting my hands on
so intimate a part of another woman's anatomy. After all, I avoided touching my
own unless there were some sterile reason to justify it.
But this was another world, one so radically foreign to my life, that I
gulped down my butterflies and clumsily splashed a palm full of lotion onto her
right breast. I began rubbing, trying to avoid the aureole and pointing nipple
in my determination to keep my touch businesslike. Beth took the reins and
grabbed my wrist, pulling my lotion covered hand squarely onto her nipple.
The feel of her nipple growing stiff under my palm brought a gasp to my
parted lips, and in moments my businesslike touch ended, and my sexual life
began.
