“RIGHT,” she thundered as she picked up the wood handled strap off the bondage bench and held it between her hands. She moved the leather between her hands for a few seconds, showing it off to Darryl. She slapped a hand with it to get their attention, then she cracked it down loudly on the bench putting some effort it into.
Darryl hadn’t taken his eyes off her or the strap for an instant. “Oh no, please Mistress,” he gasped. He’d had his buns warmed by that strap before, many times, and knew exactly how it felt.
For that matter, she’d had also felt it many times when her own special needs took her to Magenta for a sub session. But that was another story.
“BEND, YOU NAUGHT GIRL.” She pointed the strap at the bondage bench only a few feet in front of Darryl.
Angel released Darryl’s naughty bits then stood shakily, “I’m sorry Mistress, you’re not going to s-t-r-a-p me are you?” She worked the word strap making sure Darryl was focusing on it, making the harshness of the word sharp and painful sounding. For Darryl it made him even more excited.
She pointed at the bench and shook the strap, she looked fierce, she put her other hand on her hip with her elbow out and waited with the strap pointing at the bench.
Angel made a performance of looking sad, upset, then fearful. She squealed a little as she bent, her chest flat on the leather of the bench, her arms pushed forward and gripping the other side.
She moved behind Angel then extended her arm with the strap and tapped Angel’s bottom over her skirt and whatever underwear she had on. She brought her arm back and in slow motion tested how the strap would fly through the air then land making a show of it. She shook her head, “NO. Not Happy Angel. Skirt up, knickers down,” she snapped waving the strap at her, making it look all very theatrical.
Angel gasped, “Oh no Mistress please, please no, not the strap on my bare bottom. It hurts far too much more on the bare.”
She brooked no dissent. Winding up she gave Angel a huge stroke of the strap over the back of her bare thighs, right in the middle of her thighs, the strap sounding gunshot sharp and painful as it echoed down the corridor outside.
Angel squealed. She jumped in the air and rubbed her thighs, the red band showing vividly, dancing from foot to foot squealing, “Eeeaggghhh, Mistress, not on my thighs Mistress, it hurts too much Mistress,” as she jumped from foot to foot and shook her legs.
Angel had a ‘too hard word’ of bananas which she seldom used. Her mercy word. Thigh strapping and red welts was all par for the course for Angel.
She almost smiled, Angel could take a strapping like that all damn afternoon, the theater of her getting the strap and dancing around was for Darryl’s benefit and, with a sly glance, she saw his ardor barometer hadn’t drooped at all. The flesh compass needle was pointing up nicely, standing tall and proud and if anything, looking a little painful in its intensity. It wouldn’t take much to make him pop off but that wasn’t going to happen for another frustrating half hour at least.
If she and Angel had any say in it, Darryl was in real danger of getting a muscle strain where a splint would make getting dressed difficult, and rubbing liniment into it would make his eyes cross.
Angel pulled her knickers down then stepped out of them. Then she bent back over the bondage bench and flicked up the short skirt she was wearing so her as yet unblemished bottom was facing into the room, the only mark on Angel the angry red band across her mid-thighs.
“Now you need a strapping my girl,” she said as she measured up and tapped the bottom in front of her with the wood handled strap, flicking it up, letting it fall, then repeating it all for Darryl’s benefit.
She wound up then brought her arm forward at speed making the strap swish slightly as it moved through the air. It wasn’t the hardest stroke she could give by any means, about half power, but the sound of leather strap on bent feminine bare bottom was a delightfully loud crack. With that crack a faint red band was instantly painted across the center of Angels bottom. She knew it would be painful but Angel was a true masochist, loving the out of body feeling and the whole sub-space thing that strict corporal gave. Bent over the leather bondage bench, in the dungeon, her face against the leather, this was something Angel would otherwise probably be paying for if didn’t work here
Angel squealed and shook her hips, her bottom going from side to side, then it jerked up and down for a moment as she lifted and raised. All the while her pussy appeared between her legs, winking at Darryl, sometimes gaping, sometimes hidden as she shook her hips and legs. For Darryl it was like a view of heaven.
She delayed only a few moments till Angel stabilized. Then she struck again, the strap landing slightly lower. Waiting a dozen seconds between each stroke, she worked the strap down, overlapping strokes and taking her time. Angel danced and squirmed giving Darryl a wonderfully erotic show for his money as the loud cracks of the strap barked and the red band on her bottom grew wider and turned a deeper shade of red.
After only a half dozen strokes the strap cracked across the tops of her thighs and Angel screamed, “Oh Mistress, oh Mistress, not my thighs, I’m so sorry. I won’t do it again. Please go easy Mistress, you’ve s-t-r-a-p-p-e-d me so hard. I won’t be able to sit for days.”
Darryl picked up on that cue just as he should have, “Mistress Tish, it was all my fault. Please spare Angel, please give her strokes to me.”
She stopped for a moment, then she ran the strap through her hand enjoying the feel of the leather.
She snap-cracked another hard stroke across the same place on the top of Angel’s thighs making Angel jump and squeal even more.
She looked at the bottom in front of her, and she looked at the slave standing tall in bondage with his erection sticking straight out looking painful. “Slave, I think she needs more strap, much more of the strap, she can’t get off this lightly.”
Then she repeated the stroke making it three to the same place and the red band was bright red now. Angel reacted predictably, jumping and waving her butt in the air, showing off her charms time and again as she squealed and shook herself.
“Slave!. Naughty girl Angel must learn first hand that when she misbehaves she gets the s-t-r-a-p,” she said sharply emphasizing the implement of punishment at the same time as she ran it though her hands.
Then she aimed a little higher and cracked the strap down on the lower portion of Angels bottom. It too wobbled and Angel squealed again. “But slave Darryl, Mistress enjoys using her strap. She enjoys it so much.”
She gave Angel another stroke over the top of the previous one and Angel wailed. “Mistress needs naughty girls to know what the s-t-r-a-p feels like slave Darryl.”
Again she cracked the strap over the middle of Angels bottom lifting Angel onto her toes as she hissed loudly. “This s-t-r-a-p is so good at teaching naughty girls,” she said as she ran it through her hands.
Another stroke cracked over the top of Angels bottom bringing the same squeal and a little dance from her feet making her legs shake and move open and closed as the sting worked its way into Angel. “Slave Darryl, if Mistress stops s-t-r-a-p-p-i-n-g a naughty girls bottom, who will she strap then? Who should Mistress s-t-r-a-p on then slave Darryl?”
She lifted the strap and gave Angel another huge stroke over the top of her bottom cheeks where the previous one had landed. Angel leaped into the air and shook her hips. “Well slave Darryl? Who should Mistress s-t-r-a-p?” she asked as she ran the wood handled strap through her hands between strokes.
Darryl’s gaze was alternating between the strap in her hand, herself in her dominatrix gear and the bent over form of Angel. Angel was hard to resist with her hugely red striped rear on display and the charms between her legs occasionally visible in her gyrations. Darryl did like Angel, it was hard not to.
He whispered, “Me Mistress. Can I please save Angel from the strap, please Mistress?”
She walked in front of Darryl, his erection pointing straight at her. He did get a thrill from watching her, all her clients did, and seeing Angel punished like that was an added turn on.
Men could be so predictable sometimes.
She rubbed the strap on his chest, then tapped him with it. “Certainly slave but Angel does need more. Lots more. She’s not had anywhere near enough. You can have them.” She tapped his chest again then she walked behind him, she measured up by tapping his bottom with the strap and she looked in the mirror. Then she added, “With interest, of course.”
Darryl was watching her closely and his erection was if anything even more pronounced now that his punishment was at hand.
She wound up and gave Darryl a hard stroke across the middle of his bottom, much harder than she’d given Angel, the sound loud and sharp with the red band appearing instantly. Darryl gasped loudly, shouting an ‘aagghh’ as the heat and sting worked their way instantly into him.
She continued to strap Darryl. She kept slamming the strap across his bottom hard, waiting just a few seconds between each stroke. She adjusted her aim so that the strokes moved over his bottom spreading and darkening the red band till the whole of his bottom was red.
After a dozen he was shouting. She knew the feeling well, a strapping like this was always painful.
She started on the second dozen, putting effort into the strokes, making them count. This wasn’t a bad upper body workout, winding up, swiveling her hips then wrenching her arm around to give the leather plenty of speed took muscle in her arms, shoulders, back and abs. If she’d been a tennis player, that would have been an advantage. Strapping took more effort than a caning but she tended to like it more. There was something about the sound of a good strapping when it was done right. A perfect stroke made such a delicious crack she usually had to suppress a smile.
And that was the case now. the strap on Darryl’s butt was making the perfect sounds; crisp, sharp, loud and from the reaction, were getting through to him.
She knew he’d have been trying to stay quiet but this was too much for him and anyway, staying quiet was a signal to her she wasn’t going hard enough. This wasn’t a warm up as such, she’d gone straight into a hard strapping ‘cold’ so it would be nicely challenging for him. The wood handled strap wasn’t all that severe but without a warm up and with some force it did work well.
After two dozen, his butt was looking red so she moved her aim lower. She cracked the strap just under his bottom onto his thighs making him shout out. This and the feel of bondage was why she used the belts to strap his legs together. With them bound he couldn’t shake his legs or try to evade the leather. she got an ideal target.
With the first hard stroke to the thighs, he shouted out loud. She wasn’t surprised, she found a strapping to the thighs damn hard to take also. “Too loud,” she said so she put the strap down then strapped a ball gag into his mouth nice and tight. She stood in front of him, put a finger on the center of the rubber ball and pressed it gently. “Mistress doesn’t like distractions when she’s strapping a naughty slave.”
“Let’s start again,” she said then she strapped his thighs again, but she made it harder, much harder. She always found a gag made taking punishment easier, so she assumed all her slaves did as well.
Darryl jumped, he squirmed, he tried to shout out again but the ball gag kept him quiet. “Good,” she said then she strapped him again and again till the back of his thighs were good and red, the red from the top of his butt all the way down to the back of his knees a nice even shade of pain.
She put the wood handled strap on the bondage bench by Angel then went to the wall of gear. She moved her hand across the implements, quite sure Darryl would be watching her as best he could. She chose something nice and severe.
Carrying it back to Darryl and put it up to his face, then she rubbed it down his front and touched his straining penis with it, just tapping it. One glance made her think that if she wasn’t careful it would pop off and make an awful mess.
She walked behind Darryl then gave him a hard crack of the strap whip high up across his shoulders, the solid belt leather lashes making an agreeable crack as they landed.
As whips and floggers and cats went, this was particularly painful. The lashes were made with belt leather so they were hard and painful if applied with any force which she was of course doing. Darryl’s reaction was predictable. He jumped and tried to evade the hard stinging but in his bondage that wasn’t going to happen.
She took her time giving Darryl six firm strokes, starting across his shoulders then working them down his back. Then she cracked the whip across his butt making him jump and shake. She gave him another then another stroke till he’d taken a half dozen and his butt was showing the red stripes quite plainly.
Taking her time, letting Darryl settle and recover for a moment, she gave him a hard stroke across his thighs. This made him jump and shake even more. Clearly the strap whip across the thighs was painful, so she did it again. Like his butt and his back and shoulders, she gave him a half dozen very hard strokes across his thighs, making the leather lashes sing though the air then crack across the backs of his legs.