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  Two more followed, one to each haunch, raising livid welts. Susan’s cheeks began to clench, rapidly and involuntarily, as the wood reddened her skin. Her back remained straight and her breasts quivered only slightly at each impact. Juice flowed from her swollen pouch flaps. Suddenly, Edwige’s mewling became a muffled howl. The whips continued to stroke her back, but she threw herself against the flogging-frame, instead of allowing the whips to jolt her, and began to jerk her branked head from side to side, her eyes wide, staring at Habren. Habren paused in caning Susan’s bare.

  ‘Mm! Mm! Mm!’ moaned Edwige, shaking her head frantically.

  ‘How many strokes left?’ Habren barked.

  ‘Sixteen, Mistress,’ said the first whipper.

  ‘Mm! Mm!’ sobbed the flogged girl, shaking her head.

  ‘Can’t take it, Edwige?’ said Habren. ‘Had enough?’

  Edwige nodded yes, her moans fainter.

  ‘Give the girl her sixteen, and continue to whip her until I have finished this one,’ Habren rapped, and recommenced her caning of Susan.

  Crack! Crack!

  The whips streaked across Edwige’s writhing bare back.

  Vip! Vip! Vip! Vip!

  Four strokes bruised Susan right on the softest skin of her top buttocks, and her back and buttocks began to shudder.

  Vip! Vip! Vip! Vip!

  ‘Ahh…!’

  After four cuts to her gash, Susan yelped, and Habren murmured that she must begin her dozen over again. Susan’s punishment was continued three times, while Edwige’s body stiffened and jerked at each whiplash, carrying her well past her hundred. When Susan Race’s bare fesses were two puffy crimson gourds, Habren delivered a final cut to the arse-cleft and vulval lips, and her thumb pressed her own stiff clitoris into her pubic bone.

  ‘Ah! Ahh…’

  Habren sighed in climax as her come flowed down her quivering thighs, puddling the rock beneath her and staining her sandal-leather.

  ‘Enough,’ she ordered. ‘Cut her down.’

  ‘Ohh…’

  Edwige collapsed, sobbing, on the sand at Habren’s feet; she ripped the honeysuckle garland from her mane and threw it to Habren’s juiced pubis.

  ‘You bitch!’ she wailed. ‘You fucking bitch! I begged you to stop…! I couldn’t take it!’

  ‘But you did,’ said Habren, ‘and deserved it, too, you submissive bitch.’

  She lifted Edwige on to the chair beside the young male, and began to bathe the wounds of her back with scented salve. Habren stood at the chair back, leaning over, so that her nipples brushed Edwige’s forehead. Her fingers ran up and down the girl’s spine, covering every inch of her flogged skin, then descended into the buttock cleft and massaged Edwige’s anus. Edwige moaned. Habren parted her legs and Edwige lifted her head.

  Hesitantly, her tongue slipped out of her slack lips and penetrated the swollen folds of Habren’s gash. As Habren rubbed her anus, twisting to get her fingers in the flogged girl’s quim, Edwige began to press Habren’s erect clitoris with her teeth, then penetrated the slit with her whole tongue, swallowing the juices that seeped from the swollen cunt. The young male watched, face red and crotch bulging, but he did not move. When Edwige’s scarred back was thick with salve, Habren ordered her to kneel while continuing to tongue her mistress’s gash. With the blond girl kneeling and her mouth slopped in Habren’s come as she nosed and tongued the proffered vulva, the girl masturbated her own clitoris and her come juices joined her mistress’s in an oily pool on the rock. The first whipping-guard lowered his loinstring and stood nude behind Habren’s buttocks.

  She lifted her left thigh and, at once, he reached to her vulva to retrieve a palmful of her come oil. With her own fluid, he lubricated her anal pucker and shaft, putting an index finger in, while oiling the bulb of his own giant cock, before nuzzling her exposed anus with his peehole. A swift jerk of his loins and his massive black tool was halfway embedded; a second and he impaled her anus, right to his balls. The young man in the panama hat gazed, transfixed.

  With Edwige still licking her clitoris, Habren began to respond to the black tool’s thrusts as it buggered her vigorously, withdrawing to the crest of the glans before each new penetration and soon slimed with Habren’s arse-grease as well as the come from her slit. The black guard buggered Habren for several minutes before he groaned, and bubbles of sperm frothed at her anal mouth, stretched by the cock to many times its pucker.

  His place was at once taken by the second whipper, his cock as massive as the first and his buggery as hard. The guard who had shaded Habren laid down his parasol and grasped Edwige by the belly. He pushed aside her masturbating fingers and took her from behind, thrusting his cock into her wet vulva and tooling her at the crouch, with his belly slapping her squirming buttocks, while she continued to tongue Habren’s clit. Habren’s fresh bugger gasped as he spunked in her anus and his sperm dripped to a creamy pudding on her thighs.

  The guard, holding the shackle of the nine caned girls, dropped the chain and removed his own robe. Four guards were now nude; the two already spunked put their cocks turnabout in Habren’s mouth while she tongued the helmets, raising the cocks to new stiffness. Grunting, the male fucking Edwige spermed in her cunt, and at once presented his slimed cock for sucking by his mistress, while she climbed on to the chair, parted her buttocks, and was anally impaled by the first guard who had buggered her, his cock sucked to new hardness. She pushed the chair away, and swayed, her full weight taken by his impaling cock, with her feet cradling her face, and calves squashing her breasts, so that her erect nipples jutted like pears.

  The second guard thrust his own erect tool into her soaked gash. Both men fucked her, one anally and the other in the cunt, squeezing her slippery body between them, while Edwige, masturbating her clitty, clawed Habren’s exposed nipples, and Habren’s mouth took the cocks of the other two guards turnabout, sucking them to orgasm, swallowing their spurts and licking her lips clean of their copious creamy spunks. She moaned in constant orgasm, and the dripped come under her loins grew to a pool. When the males were gasping and spunked dry, Habren turned to the rear of the scene where a film camera whirred.

  ‘Cut and print!’ she cried. ‘I only meant it as a rehearsal, but I think it’s good enough to use.’

  The guards released the tethered girls from their fastenings; all, rubbing their caned bums, clustered around Habren.

  ‘You didn’t have to leave us trussed quite so long, Mistress!’

  ‘Nor cane us quite so hard!’

  ‘Verisimilitude, my dears,’ said Habren. ‘I make a film about caned sluts in a Moroccan prison fort, in a Moroccan prison fort.’

  ‘I begged you to stop!’ Edwige wailed. ‘Shaking my head was a sign! I really meant it, Habren! God, that whipping hurt!’

  ‘When does acted penance become real penance? You are glad it didn’t stop,’ purred Habren, staring Edwige down.

  ‘Yes,’ sobbed Edwige. ‘I deserved it. I’ve never hurt so hard, or come so much…’

  Habren slapped a square of pink brocade into Edwige’s bum-cleft, and it clung to the bruised skin. Edwige patted her flogged bottom and smiled.

  ‘Any girl who tires of being paid to do what she likes doing, is free to go back to Marrakesh,’ said Habren.

  She turned to the gaping male in the panama hat, his crotch still bulging, as he ogled the nude, fully suntanned girls rubbing their flogged bottoms.

  ‘Have you no shame?’ Habren snapped. ‘You’re stiff, you dirty little creep. How can a husband watch, drooling like a pervert, as his own wife is abused?’

  ‘But, darling — you know I am your most devoted fan. That is how we met — oh, the glory that you noticed me! — and…and let me produce your films! I love your acting!’

  ‘A girl buggered is never acting, dear Joss. As for producing my very money-making films, you still haven’t the nerve to sell them in your beastly supermarkets.’

  ‘But Abby, you know…the uninformed public might
think them lewd,’ he blurted.

  ‘Miss Habren, to you,’ she drawled. ‘Lewd, eh? Not like the big tits on your checkout girls.’

  ‘Darling Abby — I mean, Miss Habren —’

  ‘No, I think, “Mistress”…’

  ‘Mistress, you know I’ve nothing to do with actual hiring at Gauntco…I merely approve.’

  ‘And afterwards?’

  Joss Gaunt squirmed in his chair.

  ‘We have already established your regime of correction,’ she said. ‘How lucky you are that I permitted you to marry me, before you wasted all Papa’s money on filthiness.’

  ‘Am I to be caned, for watching you act?’

  ‘Why, yes,’ she murmured.

  ‘How many, Mistress?’

  ‘A good three dozen. No, four.’

  ‘On the bare?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Oh, Habren…Mistress…’

  ‘Not yet… you must wait.’

  ‘Ohh! You are awfully cruel,’ he gasped.

  ‘Yes,’ said Habren.

  2

  Payback

  Angarad Stark shivered in her woollen pullover, skirt and tights, all navy blue, with the company logo at her breast, and her clothing thick enough to keep out the English winter. Below, on the Earl’s Court Road, vehicles made swishing noises as they ploughed the sleet.

  ‘I’d rather you sat down, Angie,’ said her boss.

  ‘But I prefer to stand, Will,’ she replied. ‘I’m scarcely here for a bonus, am I? If you’re going to sack me, I’d rather leave fast, and with dignity.’

  ‘Sack you…!’

  The young man, also wearing blue, but in jeans and sweater, rose from his desk, where his computer monitor glowed with the lurid colours of a maze. He looked at the tangle and smiled.

  ‘Our interactive games are almost as important as your interactive fashion,’ he said. ‘With “Labyrinth”, we might even outstrip you…players creating their own maze as they go through it! It’s impossible to win, yet impossible to lose. People like mazes. They’re trapped, but safe, just as girls like tight knickers. Heavens, I’m not going to sack you, Angie! You’re the best! If only…’

  He perched on the side of the desk, frowning.

  ‘You make me feel I’m the one who’s done wrong,’ he blurted. ‘No! Nobody’s done wrong, it’s just…’

  ‘I have done wrong, Will, and I feel awful,’ Angie whispered. ‘I’ve let you and the team down, and the customers…perhaps I deserve the sack.’

  She hung her head, the long blond tresses caressing the tips of her breasts, jutting under the fluffy sweater. Her hands were clasped at the small of her back.

  ‘I accept I have to make amends, or…or be punished, somehow,’ she added. ‘It’s only fair.’

  ‘Punished?’

  ‘It’s an old-fashioned notion, but I am old-fashioned. You could dock my salary…though I don’t know how much my sloppiness was worth, in money.’

  ‘Oh, come on!’

  Will sighed.

  ‘It’s ironic…a paradox. How do you punish someone who wants to be punished? Sloppiness is no crime, but we still feel it deserves a lesson, to encourage the others.’

  ‘Then we agree,’ said Angie, lowering her head. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘This is ridiculous!’ Will exclaimed. ‘I’m not Sergeant-Major Cragg, I’m a computer graphics artist! All I know is, if our backers think anything in Metawear.com is less than perfect, we’re done in. Interactive fashion over the net…! Such potential, Angie, yet so open to piracy. I’ve sold it on my staff, my business plan, my creative plan — any flaw would take us down. We are talking many millions here, Angie, and you’ve accidentally downloaded thousands of personal files, who knows where? So a girl struts out in her new Metawear designer kit, because everything — fabric, design, cut — is her own exclusive, then sees half a dozen lookalikes in the High Street! God, I’m being a bastard.’

  ‘No, Will,’ said Angie. ‘You’re proving my point. I’ve done wrong and must make amends. The team knows my mistake and no payback is bad for morale.’

  ‘Any payback is bad for someone’s morale — like yours.’

  Will put his arm around her trembling shoulders.

  ‘Is there something you want to tell me? Boyfriend?’ he said, gently.

  She shook her head, then grinned.

  ‘Derek, isn’t it? From our outsource accounting?’

  ‘Darren…’

  ‘None of my business, damn it!’

  ‘It’s hardly a secret.’

  ‘Look, I’m not angry at you, Angie. I just want to work the problem. Don’t be hard on yourself — you’re preoccupied, that’s all.’

  ‘That is the problem, Will. I haven’t been hard on myself. I don’t want to think I’ve just had a bad hair day. I want to make amends…to feel better.’

  Will sighed again.

  ‘A paradox,’ he said. ‘If you walk out of here miserable, morale suffers. If you wear a cheeky grin, you’ve got away with it, and morale suffers.’

  Angie swallowed, and spoke rapidly in one breath:

  ‘It…it needn’t be a cheeky grin, Will. There are tearful ones, too,’ Angarad whispered. ‘Oh, God, forget I said anything. I’ll resign…’

  ‘No!’ cried Will. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘It would be one way of solving the problem.’

  ‘Problem-solving is our business.’

  ‘I mean, I would be punished…but not discouraged.’

  ‘Enough riddles,’ said Will. ‘I want you back at work.’

  Angarad took a deep breath.

  ‘Promise you won’t think I’m being funny, or teasing?’

  ‘I promise,’ said Will. ‘Just tell me.’

  ‘You…you could give me a spanking,’ Angarad blurted.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I knew I’d make a fool of myself,’ she said. ‘I’ll go.’

  ‘Wait!’ Will rapped.

  Angarad halted and hung her head again. He looked her up and down, stroking his chin. She crossed her legs, the slither of her nylons revealing a flash of panties, and shifted in her seat to cover a damp patch on the leather beneath her gusset. Angarad blushed.

  ‘It’s an idea,’ he said finally. ‘Pretty corny — kinky, too. People do it for fun.’

  ‘I didn’t say it was for fun!’ Angarad spat. ‘I’ll hate it. There is nothing, absolutely nothing, in the way of pleasure from it, I promise you. It will be a short, painful lesson, and I’ll feel better when my tears have dried, knowing I’ve made amends. That’s all. Payback.’

  ‘Look, Angie, if you’re into some kinky scene —’

  ‘No!’

  ‘At least give me some explanation,’ Will said. ‘Your parents — were they, you know, strict?’

  ‘My foster-parents are gentle innocents,’ said Angarad.

  ‘Dad can’t even fight to stop Gauntco supermarkets putting his shop out of business.’

  ‘I’m sorry. But this spanking…’

  ‘I was spanked at school!’ Angarad blurted, her eyes moistening. ‘That’s the way things are done in the sixth form at Ditton Girls’ Grammar, and it’s all you need know. Lower forms got detention, or lines, but when you were a sixth-former, it was spanking. That way, teachers didn’t waste their own time. Spanked or slippered, on panties or on the full bare! I hated it, and it smarted, and I wept, and I thought two years ago that I’d never have to endure the pain and shame ever, ever again, but it’s the only way I know to atone for my mistake, so please, Will, spank my bottom and get it over with.’

  Will shook his head, frowning.

  ‘I can’t just…’

  ‘Please!’

  Will sighed.

  ‘OK, Angie,’ he said, ‘I’ll spank you. I’ve never done anything like it before. Won’t people hear?’

  Angarad’s face was pale.

  ‘That’s the point,’ she whispered. ‘They’ll know. Girls always know when another girl’s been spanked.’ />
  ‘I suppose I’d better sit, with you bent over my knee,’ Will said. ‘Isn’t that the way? It seems weird.’

  ‘Or over the desk,’ she said. ‘It’s up to you. Over your knee, I suppose, is more comfortable for you. And it’s not weird, Will, it hurts. There’s no point if you don’t hurt me, or if I feel you’re just going through the motions. I have to be wriggling and my bum smarting. Oh, God!’

  ‘OK then,’ he said, looking at his watch.

  His blue leather armchair squeaked as he sat, heavily.

  ‘I’m ready,’ he said, his voice cold. ‘Bend over my knee, Angie. I am a bit angry with you, for putting me through this weird game. So I do feel like hurting you. Satisfied?’

  ‘It’s no game,’ Angarad hissed, as she positioned her belly on his knees, her toes and fingers on the carpet.

  She lifted her skirt and tucked the hem under her belly, revealing her buttocks thrust upwards and clothed in thick blue wool of her tights.

  ‘I’m going to spank you till I think you have made amends, Angie,’ said Will. ‘OK?’

  ‘Yes. You’ll know when to stop. That’s when you mustn’t, I’m afraid…’

  Will pinioned the back of her neck and his fingers pulled down her tights.

  ‘I am afraid,’ she whispered.

  ‘There, there,’ he soothed. ‘No point in spanking you with all that cladding. You mentioned the full bare…’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, her voice muffled in the blue leather.

  He pulled down the tights, until the globes of her croup trembled under yellow satin panties cut high and clinging wetly to her skin, with the slightly stained fabric stuck in her cleft.

  ‘Not company knickers, eh?’ he whistled. ‘That does deserve spanking.’

  ‘Please don’t make fun, Will.’

  ‘I’m not. I’m serious. Maybe you’ve unleashed my inner beast.’

  He pulled the panties up high so that the cloth stretched fully on her taut buttocks and left a generous expanse of naked skin at each haunch. Still pulling the waist elastic, he worked the satin into her cleft, until the buttocks were covered by little more than a sliver of cloth and presented two orbs of bare smooth skin for the spanking.