Belle Submission Read online

  I must stop this whipping fever, this war mania. It’s not healthy for girls to crave flogging so, nor the other thing…cock in butthole, indeed! How do I explain all this to GG?

  The courtroom air was fetid on her big, swaying breasts, whose downy hairs quivered in the eddies of hot breath. Sweat beaded the teats and she raised her hand to rub the flesh, brushing droplets from the big — stiffening! — plums of her nipples and drawing appreciative murmurs from the audience. Zealla noticed her arousal and said it was reasonable and healthy for a whipper to be aroused by a beating, as it made her strokes sting more and the miscreant’s bare buttocks smart more handsomely. She handed her a four-foot hickory switch, gnarled and unpolished. Trina wriggled, trying to get the shorts comfortable; there were no panties and the gusset was soggy with Blush’s cunt-oils. She looked angrily at the nude Blush, who smiled, flaring her nostrils, and crooked her finger just over her luxuriant growth of cunt-fleece, where her swollen clitoris stood red and glistening raw.

  The bitch was masturbating! Why her shorts? Yeah — Zealla knew they would fit. What doesn’t she know?

  Alana Funger supervised Julie Pageant hauling an oblong teak bench, colonial in style, and with legs eighteen inches high, into the centre of the courtroom. There were rubber straps dangling on each side and at each end, with extra straps at the foot of each leg. The body of the bench was of solid wood, a foot deep, but rose, curving, to an altitude of two feet underneath the hips, so that the buttocks were presented raised for flogging, for greater ease of the whipper. Trina’s lips wrinkled as the heavy thing was dragged to mid-stage: it was not some lounger or long chair, pressed opportunistically into the service of chastisement, but lovingly handcrafted furniture, whose only purpose was to lodge a victim for flogging on the buttocks. The prisoner Emily Cawdor was unyoked and led by her noose to the flogging bench where, snuffling and sobbing, she lay face down. Prefect Alana Funger unfastened her bra and pulled it free from the big squashed teats, then ripped her panties down to her knees; Emily raised her hips and legs, permitting Alana to complete the garment’s removal. At a signal from Dorita, the clerk of the court, the rednecks lifted their cameras and flashes began to pop.

  The condemned girl’s bare buttocks trembled, covered in goosebumps, and with the downy hairs clustered in her cleft standing straight. Her body draped the flogging hillock like a crescent moon, with the buttocks in prominence over her head and feet; she raised her head awkwardly. Julie, in black shorts clinging damply to her ripely swelling mons, and Blush, nude but with moisture plainly visible at the dark red slash of her quim, strapped the girl to the body of the bench. Long straps of rubber crossed over her skin, holding her by the backs of her knees and by her waist, just above the buttocks. They fastened her wrists and ankles to the bottom of the legs, which stretched her arms fully and held her buttocks parted. The fat red slice of her naked vulva and her anus bud were fully exposed to her chastiser, and telephoto lenses hummed to focus on her wet gash-meat. Swish! Trina lashed the air, the cane passing inches from Emily’s top buttock.

  ‘Ohh…’ Emily moaned. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to…’ and a jet of steaming yellow pee bubbled from her cunt-flaps, sluicing up over her ass-peach and puddling the floor and Trina’s boots.

  There was a flurry of camera shutters.

  The fucking bitch, putting me through this…

  Vip!

  She lashed Emily hard across the middle of her bare melons and Emily screamed, her buttocks clenching shut, then open, half a dozen times; a thick red welt flamed across both ass-cheeks. Her mons banged against the teak bench, slopping her cunt in her pee. Vip! Vip! One to each haunch, delivered forehand and backhand.

  ‘Oh…oh…’ Emily sobbed, her face a rictus, and her eyes shut tight, squeezing copious teardrops.

  Vip! Vip! Vip! One to the fleshy underfesse, and two stingers to the taut thin skin at top buttock. The bare fesses jerked harder at each stroke, anus and quim-lips disappearing in a deep, clenched furrow that sprang open and closed. Cameras clicked incessantly.

  ‘Ah! Ah! Ohh…’ Emily squealed. ‘Oh, please, no…’

  Trina’s bare breasts bounced and jiggled at each stroke to delighted gasps from the rednecks; she looked round to see the men and women staring half at Emily’s wealed bottom and half at her own naked teats. Vip! Vip! Vip! She caned two more at top fesse and another across the backs of the upper thighs.

  ‘Ah! Oh! It’s so tight, mamselle. Oh, I don’t think I can take a full hundred, mamselle. Please have mercy.’

  ‘Shut the fuck up, bitch,’ Trina hissed. ‘You think I like beating you?’

  Yeah. I do. I want that bitch’s melons to swell up crimson. I want to hurt her as I’ve been hurt. Make her feel my pain.

  Vip! Vip! Vip!

  ‘Ahh! It hurts. It hurts me so.’

  One to each haunch, and another stinger deepening the weal at top fesse. Emily’s buttocks jerked in a frenzy, clenching madly at each stroke, and the ripe envelopes of buttock-meat slammed into each other as though to devour her ass-cleft, even though the strokes avoided the fleshy mid-fesse. Her arms and pinioned legs leaped, straining the rubber cords that bound her. Vip! Vip!

  ‘Oh! Oh!’

  At the fourteenth stroke, Trina halted for breath. The girl’s bare croup continued to clench, churning her cunt-basin against the piss-soaked wood, and with an oily trickle of come seeping into the pee. The buttocks were marked by a grid of pink and crimson weals, rapidly darkening to purple at the tender skin of haunch and top fesse, where Trina had stroked hardest. Emily gasped for air, her breath a rasping gurgle, slamming her titties against the hardwood bench. Trina put her hands on her hips and bent forwards, facing the audience, with her naked teats dangling beneath her face. She too gasped, the sweat dripping from her brow and the points of her nipples, which stood swollen and erect to the stares and cameras of the rednecks; the gusset of her shorts was slimy with her own come, dripping into the cunt-juice oozed by Blush Coynte, so that Trina’s vulva and perineum slithered as she stood up with the oil lubricating her anus.

  Heidi and Alice stared, smiling, with their legs apart and fingertips just above their cunt-fleeces, already glistening with a dew of come; Harriet too had her hand between her legs and was openly masturbating, flicking her eyes from Trina’s breasts to Emily’s scarred bare nates. Long lenses waved from the panting rednecks to the cunts of the masturbating girls. She raised her cane for the next set of Emily’s hundred, then gasped. Zealla squatted with her skirt folded up, then placed herself beside Harriet and put her hand between the maid’s legs, touching her quim. She began frotting her, while Harriet took Zealla’s nipples between her two thumbs and fingers, rubbing and pinching them until the big plum nipples stood fully erect. Zealla’s free hand crept beneath her thighs and clamped the lips of her own vulva, peeking beneath her skirt; she began to masturbate vigorously and openly. Trina’s clitoris throbbed; panting, she slashed the air.

  Vip! Emily’s bare buttocks reddened and heaved.

  ‘Ah! No, please! Oh…’

  Vip!

  ‘Ah…’

  Vip! Vip!

  ‘Ahh!’

  Trina settled into the rhythm of her caning, spacing the sets with a minute’s gap, and delivering sets of ten stingers in quick succession, so that Emily’s nates writhed and squirmed as harshly when free of cane as under stroke. The reddened flesh was everywhere deepening to jagged dark welts and ridges, highlighting the puffy, mottled skin on either side of the weals. Emily’s shrieks mellowed to a low, continuous sobbing, heightened by snuffles and wails. Her cunt streamed with a copious flow of come, and between her wails at cane’s impact were soft little yelps and moans. Her writhing loins rubbed her vulva on the teak, and at the fifty-sixth stroke Trina demanded if she was masturbating.

  ‘Aren’t you, mamselle?’ Emily sobbed. ‘Doesn’t everyone get off, seeing a girl’s butt caned?’

  Trina looked round; redneck couples were openly embracing and
caressing each other genitally, with some of the women engaged in solo masturbation of their exposed cunts. Blush, Julie, Alana, Heidi and Alice and the custodians — all were frotting themselves, or each other; Zealla and Harriet practised heavy tribadism, with Harriet squatting and her face between Zealla’s thighs, exposed under the billows of her dress, and panties at her knees, while Zealla caressed Harriet’s cunt with her booted foot. Zealla looked up at Trina, licked her teeth and nodded towards Trina’s own quim; her shorts were soaking wet with her come. Sweat poured from Trina’s breasts and brow; she closed her eyes as her fingers crept down the front of her shorts, dallied in the rich curls of her cunt-fleece and impacted the erect, throbbing clitoris.

  I can’t stop myself. What have I become? A flogger, a masturbatrix, a diddler…

  Trina poked three fingers into her come-slopped cunt and, with jerking motions of her hips, began to thrust her clitty against the heel of her hand. She touched her swollen nipples with the cane, rubbing the whole length of the wood across them, with the wood still hot from Emily’s flogged bottom. She drew the cane back and flicked her nipples with its tip; then slapped her breasts with the shaft of the cane, harder and harder, until the thwacks of her tit-flogging echoed through the courtroom. Thin stripes appeared on her teats, crossing the areolae and streaking the nipple-buds. Emily twisted her neck to gaze at the teat-jellies and lustfully rubbed her cunt on the flogging bench in a sweeping motion. Trina gasped, tore her cane away from her glowing bare titties and lifted it over Emily’s bare ass. Vip! Vip! Vip!

  ‘You fucking bitch!’ she hissed. ‘How dare you masturbate!’

  ‘But, mamselle! We’re sub specie modestiae! Please —’

  Vip! Vip! Vip! Three stingers, all on top fesse, striping unwealed skin. Emily howled, and her whole body jerked rigid as her naked buttocks quivered like automata.

  ‘Oh! Oh!’ she screamed.

  As she stroked, Trina masturbated with firm, vigorous rubs of her clitty. Her fingers slopped with her own gushing come and she paused in her frottage to rub her come into her bare ass-melons, tight under Blush’s shorts, and with Trina’s knuckles crawling mole-like under the fabric as she kneaded the hard ridges scarred by her own bare-bottom floggings. She moaned, panting harshly.

  ‘Ohh!’ Emily squealed as three cuts lashed the very same weal, deepening it to a jagged trench across her pumping top buttocks, just below her rubber restraint strap.

  Vip! Vip!

  ‘Ooh! Ahh!’

  Hsss…! A second jet of piss spurted from Emily’s cunt, this time oily with rainbow globules of her copiously oozing come. Her thighs, vulva and ass-cleft were bathed in the fluid, and her wriggles made slopping sounds. Vip! Vip!

  ‘Ahh!’

  ‘Dirty little fuckpig!’

  Vip! Vip!

  ‘Uh! Cane harder, mamselle,’ Emily whimpered. ‘Please, mamselle, fast, all together, all together…’

  ‘Sassy bitch!’

  Trina drew up her cane and gave Emily ten in quickfire succession, using alternate backhand and forehand strokes, and squeezing her clitty while three fingernails clawed the wet walls of her cunt-pouch. Her titties flapped together as she flogged, the skin cracking with a wet, slapping noise; her belly heaved as she watched Emily’s bare croup, a sullen kaleidoscope of weals, squirm and shudder at each wealing canestroke.

  ‘Ah… ah… ah…’ Emily cried; a gush of come flooded her thighs, and her cunt and belly slapped up and down on the wood as Trina delivered the last two strokes.

  Vip! Vip!

  ‘Ahh…!’ Emily shrieked as she writhed in orgasm.

  Dazzled by camera flashes, Trina raced her fingers on her clitoris as the girl’s flogged bare continued to jerk and quiver. She bit her lip and sobbed as her belly exploded in the flood of her own climax. She reached out with her flogging hand and touched Emily’s scalded bare bottom as the ripples of her orgasm caressed her cunt. She let her fingers draw through Emily’s cane wounds, brushing the crusted dark skin of the ridges and welts and tracing the painting her cane had made on the soft bare flesh.

  Emily was left strapped to her flogging bench while the cases of the other malfeasants were heard. Sweating, Trina draped herself in her robe, and heard a litany of plaints and defences. None of the offences was as grave as panty despoliation, nor even of treason: they concerned insolence, bedwetting, failure to leave the latrines clean, nail-biting, smiling on parade. Zealla assured her that she could defer the sentences until the morrow, with the prisoners given to the custody of the watch, thus saving her flogging arm. She indicated the relevant pages of Mamselle Flageolet’s reglements. Her quim still dripping come, and an electric flicker shooting in her cunt as she passed sentence, Trina read out the fates of the sullen maids, one after the other:

  Clara Latasse, to receive twenty lashes of the whip, bareback, and twenty canestrokes on bare fesses, the strokes to be taken freestanding and strapped by wrists only, with toes touching the floor; Prudence Vile, fifty canestrokes on bare fesses, chevauchée, meaning riding a rail with her naked quim on the crossbar, wrists raised above her and ankles strapped to the base of the rail; Beulah Beaucoup, sixty lashes on the buttocks from a nine-thonged leather quirt, taken in horizontal suspension, wrists and ankles roped from a gibbet, her mouth filled with gravel, and her teats weighted with two three-pound rocks; Jewel Persimmon, forty lashes of the rattan cane on bare fesses, in upside down suspension from the gallows, legs apart, the quim filled with sea anemones and the anus with clams, both orifices sealed with duct tape; Florence Glow and Virginia Marble, their shaven pubic hillocks glued with sweet gum, and jointly suspended by the right wrists, with the left wrists in half-nelson, bound to spiked collars; Devora Dykes — Trina paused, looking at the insolently smiling face of the malfeasant, and closed the rule book, breathing deeply before pronouncing — Devora Dykes was to be publicly hanged, racked, flogged in suspension from the gallows, to one hundred with the cattle whip on bare back, and one hundred with hickory switch on fesses, the floggings to be dealt simultaneously, with a mouthful of rocks, and spider crabs in both cunt and anus, the orifices taped shut for three hours after cessation of chastisement, and her naked body to be displayed on the gibbet in Republic Place during that time. Devora bowed low and whispered, ‘Thank you, mamselle.’ Trina trembled as she looked up, crossing her legs repeatedly and with new come seeping in her cunt still hot from orgasm.

  ‘We need some volunteers, mamselle,’ Zealla said, ‘for Emily’s crushing, under peine forte et dure. Those trulls should do. Shall they doff their underwear, mamselle? Naked crushing is more shameful for the prisoner.’

  Trina watched Devora twitch at her bra and slither her panties down until large tufts of her pubic forest peeped beneath her navel; she agreed to their nudity and the malfeasants stripped naked. Blush and Julie removed the flogged prisoner from her bench but left her wrists and ankles strapped behind her, so that her body was arched, with the titties, belly and cunt thrust in a crescent. They pushed her to the floor and Blush planted her heel in Emily’s vulva, then poured a vessel of sweet gum all over her body. The malfeasants lined up in order of sentencing, and Clara flung herself on Emily’s belly with a sticky thud, followed by Prudence and Beulah, the three bare bodies covering Emily completely and muffling her shrieks. The cameras of the spectators continued to flash. Jewel, Florence and Virginia threw themselves on the naked pile, and the squeals of the first crushers, slapped by new naked bodies, rose above Emily’s wails. Devora was last, taking a run and hurling herself on the heap of writhing bare bodies, spreading her arms to embrace them. The pile writhed, slippery with sweat and sticky with sweet gum, as Devora stroked the bare fesses inches from her nose and her fingers brutally penetrated two open, squirming cunts. Looking back and smiling, she proceeded to masturbate the two maids, whose heads were hidden in the throng.

  ‘Mamselle Pure,’ Trina cried to Zealla, ‘I must protest — this is just a spectacle for rednecks?’

  Zealla shrugged.


  ‘It’s what they pay for, mamselle,’ she replied, ‘and, begging your pardon, the execution of sentence is my responsibility, as directress of discipline. Custodians Felt, Acajou, add your bodies to the crush pile.’

  The two maids stripped and threw themselves on to the mass of bare bodies, wriggling and vibrating as fingers probed open helpless cunts and rammed squirming buttholes, while mouths chewed bare skin. The bodies glistened with oily come, sliding amongst the rivulets of sweat and sweet gum. Beneath the throng, Emily’s frantic shrieks yelped higher and higher. Devora’s arm dived into the tussle and jabbed, until Emily’s squeals turned to long wailing sighs; Devora continued to jab with her fist as she masturbated Emily’s exposed cunt amid the thighs of Jewel and the teats of Prudence.

  Heidi Absorb threw aside her robe and straddled Devora’s buttocks, ramming her forefinger into the wrinkled plum of Devora’s asshole and making her squeal; she penetrated the anus to the knuckle and began to ream Devora’s anus, while her teeth fastened on her left nipple and bit savagely. Alice climbed on and straddled Heidi in her turn, getting her fist into the maid’s writhing cunt and pumping until her wrists flowed with Heidi’s glistening come, and at the same time she masturbated her own swollen, exposed clitty.

  Trina crossed and uncrossed her stockinged legs, with the seep of come now a flow slithering into the stocking fabric and drenching her thighs and pubic fleece. Her long pubic tendrils were oily and damp amid the folds of her perineum and tickled her anus bud. She clenched her sphincter muscle hard, several times, but only succeeded in drawing the hairs up into her anus, which became unbearably ticklish. She gaped as Prefect Alana Funger threw off her own uniform and plunged nude into the morass of limbs, her eyes and lips glistening and her pussy oozing come. Zealla looked pointedly at Trina’s dripping cunt and stretched her arm towards the naked pyramid of girls in invitation.