Chapter 28: Whipping Andy

When Uncle Bert built the house in Vail, he installed a dungeon in the basement, complete with all the trimmings and trappings you might expect. Andy and I had spent some delightful time at Mistress Diana’s B&D emporium in New York but this was the first time I had taken her to my own dungeon. Of course, she wanted to go. Why else would see have started our wonderful fight upstairs? Do I need to say it? I wanted to take her.

My hand was wrapped in her long blonde mane as I dragged her downstairs, my hand at waist level, so she would be bent over in an awkward position. I opened the dungeon door and pushed her in ahead of me. Directing her to stand under the hoist, I said, “Stand right there.”

“Certainly, sweetheart. Anything you want. I always want to please you, Davy. All the time. I love you so much.” She was shifting nervously from foot to foot, her face anxious and sexy as she wrung her hands. I selected the restraints I wanted from the cupboard and returned to her.

“Strip.”

“Of course, honey.” In one motion, her top was gone. Her eyes never left mine as she slipped the bottoms off, leaving herself naked. Her body was undulating like a snake, unable to keep still from sexual arousal and from anticipation, if they are different.

“Sweetheart, you know I love you. We were just playing. Wasn’t it fun? I had a great time playing upstairs, didn’t you?” I started fastening the suspension restraint on her left wrist.

“Well, did you? I know how much you like to have fun and I was trying to please you. What is this, honey? What are you going to do? Davy, I really love you, you know.” She leaned against me, letting her breasts crush into my chest as she kissed me.

“I know, and I love you.”

“So, what are you going to do? I mean, I really wasn’t bad. I was just playful. You would not want a girl without some spunk? Right? What did you say? A Porsche without an engine? Isn’t that right? Well, did you say that? About the Porsche? I know what that means. It means you like a woman with spirit, with intelligence. Right? That is right, isn’t it? Davy, say something.”

“You need to be quiet.”

“Yes. All right. I will be quiet. Really. But, this is the first time you have brought me down here. I was wondering. Well, since New York.”

I was attaching the right one now. The suspension cuffs Uncle Bert had purchased were leather and canvas. The person to be suspended formed a fist. The canvas was a cover, holding the fist closed. The restraint was funnel shaped, fitting wrist and hand, allowing both to take the weight when suspended.

“Please, Davy. Can we fuck? Now, here. Please. I want you to fuck me. Please. Put your cock in me, sweetheart.” She was begging me, pleading like a kid wanting candy, hoping to divert me from her anticipated punishment. Her face was so innocent and childlike but she could not hide the sexy gleam which kept cropping up in her eyes. She would be horribly disappointed if I had stopped her punishment to fuck her. And, she would have lost respect for me if I let her divert me from my task.

“I thought I suggested you be quiet.”

“You did. And, I am. Really. This is quiet, don’t you think?” She was silent for maybe five seconds. “See. Quiet. I am obedient. Very obedient. I try really hard to please you, Davy. I love you. Just tell me what you want. Davy, you aren’t going to hurt me, are you? I really love you, Davy. Don’t you think maybe we should quit playing now? Isn’t the game over?”

“Yes, Andy. The game is over.” My voice was as cold as I could make it. Her eyes got very big. That is not the answer she was expecting. I attached the chains from the hoist to the heavy rings on the cuffs and pushed the button. The electric motor came to life. She trembled as her arms slowly started moving upward. She flinched as she yanked against the cuffs. For an instance, true fear flew across her face as she realized in a moment she would be dangling naked by her wrists.

“I love you so much. I would anything for you, sweetheart. Please. Davy, my arms are being stretched. Davy.” She was balancing on the balls of her feet, her arms fulled extended above her when I stopped the hoist. I moved behind her, arranging her blonde hair neatly like some gossamer garment.

“Davy, I love you. Please, don’t hurt me. Please, Davy. All you have to do is tell me and I obey. Just tell me, Davy. Anything, sweetheart. What do you want from me?” In front of her now, I kissed her hard, my hand on the back of her neck, my body against hers, knocking her off her tip toes so all her weight was against me. Greedily, she kissed me in return, squirming against me as best she could. I slipped a finger between her legs, the tip entering her. She was dripping.

“It looks like somebody wants to be whipped,” I said, wiping my finger on her upper lip so she could smell herself. Her tongue flicked to savor the girly juice.

“Not me. No way. I mean, no sane girl would want that, would she? Davy, please. What are you doing now?”

I had lifted up one leg. I was attaching a leather restraint around her ankle. Then, I did the other leg. She kept babbling and fighting for her balance as I attached ropes to the restraints. One rope went through a ring on the left wall, the other on the right wall. I pulled both, spreading her legs. She squealed as her feet left the floor. I tied the rope ends together, holding her at the spread position I wanted.

There she was. Her arms were a little wider than shoulder width, stretched above her by the chains from the hoist. Her full weight was supported by her arms which were bound in suspension cuffs. Her legs were spread almost two feet wider than shoulder width and tried securely. She could not touch the ground. But, she could twist and turn and squirm and move, which she was doing. Each movement was delightful to watch as her muscles expanded and contracted, her breasts jiggled. Being stretched made her twenty-three-inch waist even more narrow, emphasizing the difference between it and her full, flaring, thirty-six-inch hips. Her lush, D-cup, breasts never stopped moving invitingly. Her face was a picture of lust and fear, framed by her blonde mane behind her. I made a video. Too bad you cannot see it but close your eyes and let your mind make your own video of Andy hanging in suspension, ready to be punished.

Of course, it was not real punishment. This was sex play. I knew that. You know that. Right now, Andy was not too sure, which is part of the fun. Even her nervous babbling had ceased. Her face was frozen in wide-eyed anticipation, her mouth slightly open, her lips moist from her tongue which flicked over them intermittently. She was starting to sweat. I love sweaty girls, particularly if they are kittens hanging in suspension waiting to be punished.

I opened the cabinet where the whips hung, letting her see the display. She gasped and squirmed harder, twisting like a sheet in the wind.

“Which ones should I use on you?” I asked evilly.

“Oh, they are all so nice, but I don’t really think you need to use any of them. I have learned my lesson, sweetheart. Really. I...”

“Since you have no ideas, I will select.” I pulled out the most painful looking one. It had a steel core, wrapped in leather, about four feet long. Really a car antenna with a thin covering over the steel, it was very whip like and could cut deep. I gave her a nasty, cold stare, pulled it back and slapped it hard against the wall. It cracked like a rifle shot. She jumped and squealed. Her face tuned beet red and she yanked against her restraints.

“Maybe this one.” I pulled out the riding crop. Short, mean, in horsehide, it was an excellent punishment tool and the one Mistress Diana taught us to use in New York. In fact, this was one I bought there and Andy had felt it when we were in training. She recognized it and gave me a knowing smile, remembering the fun times we had.

“Let’s start with this one,” I said, removing a slapper from its hook. I heard her sigh of relief when I closed the door to the cabinet. The slapper was about a foot long and four inches wide, made of a flexible, medium thickness leather. What gave it extra effectiveness was a second, lighter piece of leather. When the slapper was slapped, the second piece of leather hit the first, substantially increasing the noise without increasing the physical force, making it sound like it hurt more.

Even though Andy was in good physical condition and strong, her arms were already throbbing from being raised and from supporting her weight. That pain depleted her energy supply which made the punishment more effective. I stood in front of her slapping the slapper against my thigh. She could hear it and see it in her peripheral vision, although her eyes never left mine.

“Anything you want to say?”

“I love you.”

“Anything else?”

“Please, forgive me.”

“You have done nothing which requires forgiving.” I got a very warm, shy, little grin for that.