ANNA
A SHORT STORY BY IMPLACABLE

Anna can't sit down today, well at least not comfortably. Nothing unusual in that; today is Saturday, and Anna is always rather circumspect about sitting down on Saturdays. By Monday she will be to manage her office chair as long as it has her usual cushion, a nice soft fluffy one. But for now she sips coffee in her best friend Julie's kitchen standing up.

The reason Anna finds sitting rather less than comfortable is that her bottom and thighs are covered in black and blue welts. It seems to her, that it always is. But Saturday mornings is the time for reflection on this.

Her regimen is quite ordered. Friday nights are spent with Sir. Sir is her mentor and takes good care to discipline her faults. And there always seem to be faults, no matter how good a girl she has been (and she always feels like an adolescent girl again while she is around him). She can't quite resist spending money, or being rude to colleagues when they deserve it or whatever. No, Anna is far from perfect and Sir is right to make her uncomfortable, very uncomfortable.

Every Friday evening, she finishes work around 5:30 and hurries home. She mustn't be late or she'll really catch it! She always has to make excuses to her colleagues for missing the get together at the pub and it doesn't go down too well, but she can hardly tell them the truth. She was late once … and she had to take the following Monday off and could still hardly walk on the Tuesday. No, being late wasn't nice; Sir was a bit too strict for that to be pleasant.

Pleasant? Well yes, in fact her relationship with Sir was rather more than "pleasant". It was much more like the foundation of her existence. Sir was the one constant and dependable factor in her life. He was always there for her on Friday evening, and if it cost her a very sore bottom (and usually other parts of her anatomy) then she counted that a small price for the solace, comfort and friendship (and all right, let's admit it, the sex) that she derived from his company. And yes she had to own up to it, she took a great deal of physical and mental pleasure from his ministrations – whether they be the beatings or the intimacies that would often follow. Mentor or not, Sir was most proficient in his use of her body, and the pleasures always seemed the more intense when she was still smarting from having her hide tanned.

At home she bathes and gets dressed. Sir will inspect her meticulously, her dress, her make-up and her cleanliness. It hadn't taken long for him to find the secret pleasure she took from humiliation and now it is a key part of their routine for her to under-go a very, very thorough inspection when she arrives at his house. And woe betide her if he finds anything less than perfect.

Once all is ship-shape she drives around to pick up her friend Julie. This has been a relatively recent addition to her routine, and one that has been spectacularly successful. Sir had required her to find a person to witness her Friday night sessions to increase her humiliation. At first this had thrilled her with fright, but slowly she gathered up the courage to take her long time best friend Julie into her confidence. After getting over her shock at hearing about Anna's secret life (and the chagrin about being left out of these oh so secret secrets!), Julie agreed with alacrity to be a witness to her friend's tribulation. Anna thought Julie had agreed rather too readily, but after all, that was what Sir had required her to arrange so she had achieved her objective and could hardly complain.

It is Anna who drives to Sir's house. Julie will be driving home as Anna will on hands and knees on the back seat, weeping. It is always this way.

Sir answers the front door bell, dressed in a suit and tie. Sir is always the gentleman, although he is often the devil as well. After welcoming the two ladies into his lounge room, the rituals begin.

A sherry for Sir and Julie, poured by Anna who then stands in the centre of the room while those two talk about the world at large. Waiting, waiting … always the waiting while the other two chat as though she isn't there. It is so hard to stand still, at attention as though on a military parade, wanting to be part of the conversation … no, wanting to be the object of attention, and being ignored.

As sherry is finished, the talk always comes around to the behaviour of young ladies, their deportment, their nasty habits and so on. A fidgeting Anna is brought suddenly to the focus of attention (oh dear … perhaps it was better not to be the centre of attention after all!) as Sir rises and tells her to present herself for inspection.

He walks around her, commenting on her hair, her perfume, complimenting her on her make-up – at least that which he can see. She colours when he asks if she has been as meticulous with the make-up he can't see.

Julie is rather helpful and points out that Anna's dress is wrinkled at the back where she has been sitting on it. Just a small crease, but Sir notes the imperfection. His voice has genuine sorrow in it as he remonstrates with Anna about slovenly dressing and asks Julie to make a note of "six extras – two specials". Anna squirms as she hears this – specials are not nice. For some reason, she is not especially grateful to her friend for pointing out her fault to Sir.

And then Anna's clothes come off. Stripping before Sir is one thing, but having to do it in front of Julie is quite another. It's so different from when the two women are modelling clothes for each other; the act of undressing is exactly the same, but the implications, the formal inspection, that one of them is undressing and the other is not all add up to a great deal of embarrassment for Anna.

Stripped to her underwear, the inspection continues. Sir's questions add to her shame. They are personal questions, and he hasn't even got to the really personal bits yet! Is her underwear clean? When she takes off her knickers, will he find the gusset wet? The very questions make her wilt and yet at the same time threaten to result in the very wetness she is so desperate to avoid. And all the time Julie sits there, grinning at her discomfort.

At Sir's order, Anna removes her bra, her knickers – yes they are rather damp, and it's rather difficult pulling them down with dignity over high heels while she dances first on one leg and then the other. She doesn't have to remove stockings. Sir prefers to beat her while she retains her stockings, suspender belt and high heels. He loves high heels on her, often tells her how they help to present her bottom to the cane so much better.

"Pick them up." The voice of command. She bends over and picks up the crumpled silk panties. She knows what comes next. She offers them to Sir. She's trembling. She tries to look away but he holds her in his gaze.

"They're soaking!" exclaims Sir. Julie sniggers in the background. "I thought you said you'd put on clean ones girl." His voice is that of one in command. She quails, she's a little girl again and she's been so very naughty.

At Sir's request Julie notes down twelve extras and this time six specials. Oh no, not six!

"Please Sir," Anna quails "I can't help it, I get so nervous and embarrassed and … and you know …"

"Yes, Anna. I know. You get so excited don't you?"

"No, Sir." she intones in a quavering voice barely heard. The denial is automatic, but the lie is obvious for all to see. It is in her eyes, her blush, her body and most tellingly of all the undeniable evidence between her legs.

"So, if I put my fingers to your sex, they would come away dry would they?" he imperiously questions, "And your nipples are standing so proud because you are cold perhaps?"

Anna is bright red, can you blush on top of a blush? She groans in defeat.

"Stand to attention Miss!" he orders. She does her best and resumes a stilted stance that might pass for attention in one of the lesser regiments.

"Julie would you be so kind as to note that Anna told a lie to direct question, and has been caught doing so. Anna knows not to prevaricate with me. I award two dozen extras with the crop. Twelve specials and note that her breasts will be involved on this occasion! I will not be lied to." Sir is clearly in no mood to be trifled with!

Anna groans. Mortified! She hates breast whippings. If she takes pleasure in her beatings, these (and perhaps those between her legs) are the hardest to take. Pleasure comes from those only after they are well over and she can savour the memory of past conflagration as she rakes over the dying embers in her mind. She admits to herself that it is quite a thrill through the week to stand in front of her mirror and gaze at the marks on her body as they change colour and slowly fade.

But the inspection continues. Stockings seem to have unaccountably got twisted – just a little, but enough for Julie to comment. Six strokes of the cane awarded for this small misdemeanour, but no specials this time.

"Just you wait you bitch," thinks Anna at this betrayal. But hardly has she had time to send the searing message from her eyes to her friend than her friend picks it up with a smile and draws Sir's attention to the disarray of Anna's garter belt. Disarray? It is barely off-centre, but truly the little embroidered bunch of flowers that marks the middle of the garment is at least half an inch to the left of Anna's navel.

She can't bear to hear Sir's pronouncement – another six.

And now Sir starts the most intimate section of the inspection. Intimate? Very. We start with Anna's breasts. He notes that there are no marks on them (from last week's session with the tawse). Perhaps he had been too lenient. Anna quickly assures him that her breasts smarted for several days afterwards, and thank you she felt he had been quite strict enough. Sir raised his eyebrows at this cheek! Watch it girl! But the truth is that her body has become accustomed to her frequent beatings and heals quickly. Now the evidence of the severest thrashings are gone in a week – just.

And now to the matter of cosmetics; the nipples were rouged the right colour? Sir asks Julie's opinion. Julie is rather rude and comments on Anna's tits being too saggy. Of course this isn't true but Sir forbears to remark on this. It is agreed that Anna has used the right colour and that the effect is rather pretty.

Julie is unkind enough to look into the cups of Anna's bra and notice that some of the colour has rubbed onto the white material.

"She should take more care of her expensive underwear", Julie opines. Sir can only agree and adds four specials to the others already decreed for her breasts. Julie remarks that it is only fitting as it is Anna's tits that have caused the offence. But why only four?

"Of course, they have to be nipple shots." Sir explains. "And we don't want to go overboard do we! Moderation in everything, I always say." Anna can only wince at the thought. She knows he will use the crop and that she will suffer the screaming agony later tonight and there is nothing she can do to prevent it. Sir does not give reprieves.

At Sir's command she lifts her arms high in the air. She scrunches her eyes in shame as Sir first rubs his fingers over her armpits and then imperiously leans forward to sniff them. It's not fair, Sir forbids her to wear deodorant, so how is she supposed not to perspire standing in this room under all this pressure.

"Well, you seem to have managed to shave properly, I'll give you that." he murmurs. "But I think you perspire more than is suitable for a young lady. Julie please note down a dozen strokes with the short tawse, six to each armpit."

This seems a bit rich to Anna. But she has the good sense not to complain. It would only cost her more and she's got enough coming her way tonight already. Anyway, she doesn't mind the attention to her armpits – as long as the tails don't wrap around to whip her breasts. That doesn't usually happen when Sir uses the short tawse, and anyway he usually whip her armpits from the front so it should be OK.

Hands down to her sides now. Her back provides few pitfalls, though Sir is less than complimentary on her posture. But Sir regards her belly with a jaundiced eye. There are stern questions about her weight and her diet. Has she been exercising?

Anna assures Sir that she has followed the strict regime he has laid down for her to the "T". But unfortunately Julie chimes in just as Anna thinks she has put it past him. She casually mentions how they went to the movies together on Wednesday instead of Anna going to the gym. She can remember how rude Anna was about "pulling the wool over Sir's eyes. He'll never know." Well now he does. I'm afraid it's rather too much of an offence to get off lightly. Oh no. It's two dozen with one dozen specials. Julie takes note that these (the specials) will attend madam between the legs and she grins heartily at the thought. Just at this moment, Anna doesn't like Julie very much. In fact she is rather hoping that the ground will open up and swallow the bitch up so that she can go straight to hell … which is quite clearly where she belongs!

Sir comments on Anna's legs. As usual he is rather complimentary about them. He says he doesn't need her to remove her stockings for him to see that she looks after her legs. At last, a little ray of sunshine enters Anna's heart. But not for long.

Now Sir's attention is drawn to her bare pubis. Bare because Sir requires it to be quite thoroughly shaven. He likes it that way. In fact she is required to wax her entire intimate area from mons to anus; ouch!! (or be waxed more to point – Julie is most helpful in this regard, the bitch. She really has taken a liking to hearing Anna scream! So much for best friends. "One day you'll get your come-upence, and I'll be there to serve it to you", muses Anna.) So she has suffered the tortures of hot wax to ensure that Sir will be pleased with her.

But, oh dear. Yes bare she is, but also leaking. The evidence of her excitement betrays her with silvery droplets at the tops of her thighs. On closer inspection, her lower lips are rather altogether too glossy, even though she wears lipstick on them at Sir's request. There can be no denying the evidence. Sir remonstrates with good reason about self-discipline and maintaining decorum like a good young lady. The tally has now reached the maximum he allows for any single offence – two dozen (one dozen of specials and we know where these ones will go). Julie sniggers again. Her own panties are soaking wet and she's been sneaking fingers up her dress every now and again for the last ten minutes while Sir's concentrating on Anna.

Anna's humiliation at the discussion of her most private parts knows no bounds. Surely it can get no worse than this. But, oh dear, Sir requires her to bend over and touch her toes. So? After all there will be a lot of bending over shortly. But, no, no it's not fair! Sir is parting her buttocks and inspecting her anus! When did she last go? Has she had an enema as he requires? Is she properly clean? Anna bursts into tears at last. Sobs rack her body as she contemplates her misery. How could anyone retain a shred of dignity under such stern and unyielding questioning? But at last she provides Sir with the answers he requires. And in the end, it's only fair; after all Sir likes to avail himself of the pleasures of the back door to heaven so it is only natural he wants to make sure the rubbish has been taken out – so to speak. And yes, the path to heaven has been thoroughly lubricated, Sir tests the passage with three fingers, which enter her easily. She straightens at his command and sucks the proffered fingers clean of the clinging lubrication – another reason to ensure that her preparation is of the highest standard! The lubricant is her own recipe of oils and flavours as she knows she will get to taste it one way or another before the night is through!

The inspection is over at last. Sir notes that she has been found wanting and that retribution will follow shortly. However, before it does, the ritual of confession now unfolds. Anna finds tremendous solace in this ritual. For her it is the corner-stone of the entire relationship.

She kneels before Sir in her near naked state. It is now more than ever that she resents the intrusion of Julie. Julie is an interloper between two lovers right now. But she remains, at Sir's insistence, though at least she has the grace to remain quiet during this special time.

The confession has almost truly religious connotations for Anna. It is the recognition of her faults through the week. The things done and not done. She dredges up her memory for each instance of imperfection and lays it before Sir. And Sir gently examines each sin as if he were truly her priest. He murmurs his understanding of her failures. Sometimes she goes into excruciating detail, but he always listens with infinite patience, never hurrying her or trivialising her travails.

The scene is charged with emotion. Sir whispers absolution and she weeps from gratitude. Tears fall steadily from her eyes, unheeded by her as she chokes out her stories of woe from the previous week. Sir collects the occasional tear on the tip of a finger and brings it to his lips. He cradles her head on his lap and she falls in love with him all over again. In her turn she silently thanks him for all the humiliations he has heaped upon her this evening and for all the pain he is about to extract. She understands that he knows her better than she does herself and that if she suffers at his hands it is because he knows that she needs to suffer. She loves her mentor all the more for the travails he requires her to undergo.

As with all true confessions, there is a penance to be ascribed. It is not a light one, but part of it is to be delayed … next week Anna will bring with her several garlands of stinging nettles. She has felt these on her bottom before and knows that her sojourn will be severe. But for this week, a riding crop will grace her buttocks and thighs two dozen times; that is, over and above the thrashing that would ordinarily befall her and the other punishments she has already earned this evening. But she asks for no mercy. Absolution must be paid for after all if it is to mean anything. It is what she came for. And tonight she is hungry to pay the price. Hungry for the sting of the cane. As the time for atonement approaches she is impatient for its bite.

The formalities of the first half of the event are complete. It is now intermission. Anna, of course, makes coffee and serves Sir and Julie. While she is in the kitchen, she thinks she hears a lot of rustling, moans and the odd shriek coming from the lounge. She notices that Julie's sopping wet knickers are lying on the floor and that she is curled up on the settee with that "cat's got the cream" look in her eyes.

"I bet she's got a half a box of tissues stuck up her cunt" thinks Anna rather uncharitably. But she doesn't make a scene; and using a word like "cunt" would most certainly earn her a lecture and a rather painful penalty. She has enough punishment coming her way just now thank you. If Sir wants to fuck her friend then he has every right to do so. But it irks her that she should have gone through so much unfulfilled excitement and frustration in the previous hour only to have some other female getting the stuffing that she so very much craves.

When the coffee cups and cake plates are cleared away. Anna returns to the lounge.

"We'll start with a nice warming up over my lap," says Sir nonchalantly as he sits on a straight-backed chair in the middle of the room. Anna is virtually naked, her stockings and garter belt framing her bottom perfectly for the tanning it is about to receive. She places herself across his lap with as much dignity as she can muster. There will be scant amount of it left when she is finished this evening.

Sir's bare hand can be soft and gentle when he caresses her. Like right now as he strokes her bare bottom. His fingers dip between her thighs and sample her honey pot. It always amazes her how her juices seem to flow so constantly during the time she is with Sir (or just thinking of Sir). But the moment passes, and now his hands are not gentle. And hands, plural it is. Because Sir spanks her with his left hand and then he has her reverse position so that he can bring his right to bear.

Sir spanks methodically. He knows that smacking the same area constantly increases the pain substantially rather than letting the sting fade quickly as other parts are smacked. And so it is ten hard slaps to each buttock and each upper thigh (oh how she wishes he would stick to her bottom). And then she is required to slip off his lap and quickly lie in the other direction. She does this several times, amassing a substantial number of spanks. But there is no counting for this preliminary adventure.

Anna knows that she must not try to shield her bottom. It is far too expensive to her flesh for her to try. Sir had cured her of that annoying little habit by her third visit. The standard penalty was six strokes of the cane to the offending hand (or six each if both had the temerity to be involved). The punishment was meted out immediately. On her first visit, she had suffered terribly and had not been able to hold a pen until the middle of the following week!

It seems childish to her to cry from a mere hand-spanking when she will receive punishments so much harsher later on. But weep she does. After the spanking has been in progress for about five minutes, she cannot help but burst into tears. Her defences have been slowly peeled away by the constant barrage of smacks. At first little more than mildly uncomfortable, but as the sting grows and intensifies, it becomes all she can do to keep her hands away (oh she must, must keep her hands away). He legs kick up and flail in the air, and she is wriggling like mad, but Sir keeps smacking her, her buttocks and the tops of her thighs. All is now red and the tears drip constantly, some falling on the carpet below her, but most flung into the air as her head jerks from each successive smack.

At last Sir considers her bottom warmed enough. He orders her to stand and sends her to the corner. There, she stands facing the wall, hands on head, snivelling and weeping. Her bottom and thighs are really stinging. She wishes she could blow her nose instead of having to snivel, it's so unseemly and undignified. She knows her bottom is five sizes bigger than it was and must be shining like a beacon. She wishes she could rub the sting away but she does not dare take her hands away from her head.

Julie stands behind her commenting to Sir on how she looks like a baby, crying like that from just a simple smacking. Julie is enjoying herself, the bitch. Julie wonders out loud how she's going to be able to take a proper punishment from Sir. Through her tears, Anna vows to the wall that she can take it all, she'll show Julie who's a baby and who's a real woman.

Tears are dry now. Sir allows her to blow her nose.

On Sir's command, she fetches the cane from Sir's study where it hangs on the back of the door. Her hand almost recoils from picking it up; she loves this weapon that has extracted from her so many screams and pleas with its loving caress. She loves it … and she hates it.

Sir has placed two chairs back to back. She kneels on one and places her hands on the seat of the other. At Sir's command, Julie squats in front of her and holds her wrists – we don't want her earning extras from getting up do we! As Julie's short skirt rides up, Anna notices that she was right; the knickerless Julie does have some tissues stuck in her sex. "Not fair!" thinks Anna. The first stroke descends.

Anna always tries to be brave. She hates hearing herself cry out, even worse when she totally loses control and starts screaming. The first one slices into her hot buttocks. Sir always starts nice and fair on the middle of her bottom. Soon he will lower his strokes to the sulcus and then her thighs, but for now it is square in the middle. And bearable … just. She confines her vocalisations to a small "ugh" through clenched teeth. Julie smiles up at her. It's such a happy little ritual for Julie. She gets her jollies from Anna's pain, how nice.

Second stroke and Anna's head comes up. Ouch, sting starting to build now. The first stroke is smarting nicely and she starts to feel that delicious fire build as the second one begins its task of raising the sting on top of the first. Delicious? Yes delicious and hateful at the same time. She cannot explain why she seeks out this feeling. Perhaps it is the intensity. Perhaps it is the fact that she must undergo the fire no matter how much it hurts. She doesn't know, but time for reflection is rather short as the third stroke impacts a fraction below number two. A rather more forceful grunt and one knee is jammed into the back of the other.

The caning continues. Sir doesn't count aloud, but two dozen stripes are painted on Anna's bottom. It is always a pretty bottom, but somehow the livid stripes of red, turning blue, serve to enhance its beauty. There are rather a great many tears. These started to flow at around stroke twelve. Lots of kicking and drumming of legs on the chair. Much begging for the strokes to be less hard; for a break, just a moment or two. Sir seems deaf to such pleas. Thankfully Julie hasn't let go of Anna's hands otherwise she most assuredly would have broken position, and that would never do. And of course, there are a further twelve stripes on the backs of her thighs. Sir always likes to make sure the thighs are well thrashed. Later he will add a further half dozen lower down towards her knees where Anna's stocking tops are. He likes to finish her off that way. The smarting is rather special Anna tells him.

A little rest and it is time for the specials. First, she is allowed to rub the atrocious sting and then she is facing the wailing wall again with tears cascading down her cheeks. There is a higher intensity to her weeping now and Anna has forgotten about dignity. Julie doesn't taunt her now. In reality, she rather respects Anna for her willingness to undergo the tests that Sir sets her. And also she is offering up for bottom to Sir's penis right now and therefore more concerned with her own and Sir's pleasure than with her friend's distress.

Anna's wailing seems to be calming now, just as Julie seems to have taken up the cry herself, Anna guesses that her friend is having rather the better time tonight. But she smiles inwardly, even through her tears, knowing that, if Sir is buggering Julie (and he always does, the girls will discuss it on Saturday morning and Julie tells Anna that she adores being buggered by Sir), he will most assuredly service her in a most satisfactory manner later, fore and aft, so to speak. And Anna always finds sex after a thorough beating to be so much the better for it.

Order is restored to Sir's clothing and Julie has a bit of a far-away look in her eye. Anna is little surprised that Sir orders her to accompany Julie to the bathroom. It is made clear to her that she is honoured to imbibe Sir's precious seed, recovering it from both of Julie's lower orifices. Really! This is taking things a bit far. But Sir's steely eye is quite resolute. And what is the harm? After all she and Julie have had plenty of girl on girl play-times –and yes even licked bottoms (but she wouldn't dare admit it to anyone, except Sir of course, during confession). And what is wrong with that, as long as they are both clean. Anna suspects that Julie has been as meticulous as her, after all Sir is a stickler for cleanliness. She suspects that Sir will have had Julie take him in her mouth once the act was finished. Sir says it is by far the best incentive to a girl to ensure she is clean – and Anna cannot but agree!

Returning from the bathroom, Julie is very happy. She loves having Anna perform for her like that. Anna is very sore but feeling rather pleased with herself. Her bottom and thighs are still smarting something awful. But at least she has the taste of Sir on her tongue. And Julie at least had the charity to apply her tongue to Anna's pussy while Anna attended to Julie's nether regions. Yes, very satisfactory.

Time for her penance. Two dozen with the crop. A wicked instrument and one that searches her out. It tests her courage every bit as much as the cane. The bite and sting are a little different somehow, but every bit as painful.

Anna takes these lying back on the settee with her legs up over her head. Her bottom is hanging over the edge of the chair and Julie stands behind holding Anna's legs to stop her dropping them or, even worse, kicking Sir. That would never do.

It is a shaming, but most effective position. From the start, Anna yelps and then howls as two dozen strokes are laid on with a will on her already throbbing bottom and thighs. Julie has a job hanging on to those legs as they writhe in agony. Sir whips her hard and without compromise. Each scream vindicates his accuracy and style. He knows well how to ply the weapons of pain through long experience. Each howl is an acknowledgment of his mastery of his craft, and of this woman.

When the beating is over Anna is allowed to crumple to the floor, a sobbing wreck. She gingerly grasps her behind, her thighs, trying to rub the sting away, the flames that sear in her tortured flesh.

Fifteen minutes of Anna sobbing and snuffling in the corner are sufficient for Julie and Sir to consume a whisky while quietly contemplating her distress.

It is now time for extras. And there are rather a lot of them. In fact, the count is 102! And 56 of those are specials. Specials? – special because they caress parts of her anatomy other than the more usual points of punishment. Very painful? Very! Perhaps delivered with a degree of leniency? No, I'm afraid that just wouldn't do. Anna has to learn her lessons after all.

You don't want to hear about these extras do you. What you do? Very boring I assure you. Just a poor young woman getting the most frightful whipping! You really do! Oh well, I'll take your word for it. This is what followed …

Sir starts with Anna's armpits. Anna stands in the centre of the room, trying to display a new resolve now that the previous tears have dried and she has regained somewhat of her composure. Both arms raised with elbows grasped in opposing hands on top of her head, she awaits the smacking to start. This will sting, but its impact is relatively short lasting. There will be no bruising, and by tomorrow night, she not be inconvenienced any more when she lets her arms drop to her sides. A short tawse is produced and Julie gives her a quick kiss (at last some solidarity and compassion being shown?)

Sir stands in front and whips each bare armpit in turn. He is proud of his skills and chooses this stance to avoid striking either her breasts or worse, her face if he were to deliver the beating from behind. Anna takes these blows well as he alternates the strokes to each armpit in turn. He draws from her a grunt, becoming a rather distressed grunt by the time full measure has been delivered; but in terms of specials, these are rather easy to bear. No tears this time, though the last few cause her to snort a bit.

Sir kisses each throbbing armpit and asks Julie to lock Anna's arms in place. It is time for Anna's breasts to be cropped. She hates this. This is real pain. She asks for a gag as she knows she will embarrass herself with her pleas for mercy. And she doesn't want mercy; she wants to be taken over the hill to that valley of acceptance where Sir wants to take her. Julie's panties are pressed into service (after being used to mop the juices from between the legs of both ladies – there is an abundance of moisture yet again) as a gag and these are stuffed into her mouth with a scarf tied around her head to keep them in place.

The riding crop is the same vicious black leather clad beast that previously whipped her bottom and thighs. Sir stands to one side and strikes. It is a full strength blow directed to the upper slopes of Anna's breasts. Anna buckles, and would fall to the ground if Julie had not been holding her. A thin red line springs up immediately. Tears sprout from her eyes and she starts to choke on her gag. Sir gives her a moment to absorb the pain and present herself for the next stroke. Sir insists on this. He often tells her the futility of beating a woman who does not willingly accept her chastisement. In discipline, he tells her, there must be self-discipline, exercised both by the chastiser and the chastised. "Bollocks, it just makes it easier to whip me!" she thinks, but she doesn't say so.

Anna screams behind her gag at every slash of the crop. She writhes in agony. Sir alternates the blows between the upper and lower slopes of her tortured breasts. He delivers the mandated dozen, but doesn't stop. No, she will wear some of the other specials on her chest as well. And now, of course, come the four nipple shots. Julie tightens her grip on the weeping Anna. Nipples hardened in anticipation (Anna can't imagine why they betray her in this way. Don't they know they about to be whipped?)

Agony! The crop takes both nipples at the very tip. Oh, yes, Sir is very much on form tonight. How can she possibly take three more like that? But she does. The sting is incredible. She imagines that her tits her been ripped open at the very least. But there is no blood.

It takes several minutes between each stroke for her to settle enough to allow Julie to tighten her grip for the next; but eventually the four strokes are delivered. No misses, all on target. Released from Julie's grip, Anna falls to the floor and curls up in a foetal position, cradling her wounded breasts in her arms, oblivious to world around her. "Never, never, never again." She thinks to herself through her choking sobs.

A pussy whipping beckons. Relieved of her gag, Anna weeps and moans for a while her mentor and friend look on. Can she arise for another torture?

As soon as she is able, Sir arranges her so that he has a clear field of fire (a turn of phrase most apt for the occasion!). She lies face up on the kitchen table. Julie is squatting on her chest (her poor tits) bottom planted in Anna's face (she's already rather familiar with that part of her friend's anatomy thank you very much!) Julie holds Anna's legs, one on each side under her armpits so that Anna is reminded of her last visit to the gynaecologist, only this is so very much more exposed. Julie is fascinated with the welts on Anna's legs and bottom – how beautiful they look! Is that envy that we see growing in Julie's heart?

Sir approaches with a martinet. The dozen strands of leather will impart a fearful sting, but will not damage the tender sex on which they will strike. Anna cannot see the approaching doom, and so is not tensed when the first lash lands. Sir has aimed it squarely on her labia. The tips strike her mons and catch at her clitoris. It hurts. Not desperately – not yet. At the first lash it is more the shock of being whipped in such an intimate place. The pain will build over the two dozen she is due. Nevertheless, she kicks her legs and lands a high heel on the back of Julie's head. Julie does not thank her, but instead slaps an exposed buttock hard. Perhaps Anna will control her feet better for the rest.

And the rest come in a measured cadence. Sir strikes left and right as well as centre, to ensure that the tender inner thighs also receive their fair share. In fact Sir allocated quite a few of the remaining extras to Anna's inner thighs. These are soon flaming red and she quickly moves to howls and tears. She struggles hard to escape from the lash, but Julie holds her well. There is no escape. There is pain. The martinet does not break the tender skin, but the smart mounts.

It is clear that Anna's body has a defensive strategy, perhaps ineffective, but at least it's trying! Her sex pours forth its fluids in an attempt to protect Anna's loins from this outrageous assault. Or perhaps it is just an expression of her arousal. In either event, the martinet now slaps wetly between her legs. Its sound is now a splat rather than the crisp whipping sound of before. But that does not mitigate the awful smart that builds as the beating proceeds.

At last Sir is satisfied that this portion of the evening is complete. He ceases to flog the sex of his protégé and Julie frees the punished woman's legs. Again Anna curls into a ball and loses herself to her pain.

The interlude is brief and Sir rearranges Anna so that she now bends over the kitchen table in the normal manner. Normal that is, for a woman about to be caned. Yes, it is time again for the cane. Forty strokes remain. Rather a lot, but there you are - a naughty girl has only herself to blame. And this one is still weeping and sobbing and trying to rub her pussy and thighs. No self-control at all one might think. Well we don't expect to complete a girl's training in one evening, do we.

Suffice to say the cane is plied with vigour. The focus of the strokes is the lower part of the bottom and tops of thighs. Sir allows Julie to deliver twelve herself (he adds a few more to the tally because he thinks some of Julie's strokes are rather weak). Anna is rather beyond caring and has reached the point of just weeping more loudly when any particularly painful stroke lands.

However, Sir is a bit of a showman, so he always likes to finish with a flourish. For this he unclips Anna's stockings and rolls them down to her knees. He now has unbeaten flesh to work with and delivers six crisp stripes (though he has trouble getting Anna to keep her legs together and it ends up being ten). And for the very last, there are four pussy shots from behind. These he delivers by aiming at Anna's delicious sulcus and caning short so that the tip of the cane disappears in between the afflicted woman's thighs. A shriek above all others tells Sir that he has found his mark. It takes a while to convince the gibbering woman to resume her position each time for the other three but the task is finally complete.

What an effort! Sir sits down to refresh himself with a whisky while Julie helps the hobbling, weeping Anna up to bathroom. A long hot bath for both of them will restore the women to an appropriate state.

It is an hour later when Anna returns, her gait somewhat unusual (not perhaps for Anna, but certainly not the gait of most women in the High Street on market day), her marks livid and proud. She kneels before her mentor and thanks him sincerely for taking the time to correct her.

We draw the curtain now, as the two ladies reward Sir for his efforts. In particular, Anna, despite her pains, performs in a most enthusiastic fashion. And Sir acknowledges "bedroom athlete" as one of his talents. But rest assured that when they leave in the early hours of Saturday morning, Anna will be bending over for the cane – another twelve well laid on, on her cruelly marked backside. It is Sir's requirement that she leave his house weeping. It's just the way it has to be.