Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Woke This Morning To The Stinging Lash By Jeremy Spencer Copyright 2004

   All rights reserved.  This story may be downloaded for personal use, but
any posting to a website, free or otherwise, is strictly forbidden.  If you
have found this story somewhere other than my page
(/~Jeremy_Spencer/) or at Storiesonline, please let me
know by filling in a feedback form at either place.

   Author's Note: The following is a fictional story.  In it, fictional
characters have hot, sweaty, unprotected, fictional sex.  They live in a
fictional world without fictional diseases.  You do not.  Be careful.  All
characters in this story are old enough to know what they're doing.  Now,
on to the show!

   *****

   With a snap, the whip bit into the soft flesh of his inner thigh, and
Roger fought to stifle a second cry of pain.

   "Good boy," the soft voice said, in sharp contrast to the sting of her
lash.

   "Thank you Mistress," Roger panted, his voice breathy and strained.  He
tried to calm himself, to slow the pounding in his head, but the burning
sensations in his legs made concentration impossible.

   "Roger...  darling...  you've been a bad boy, haven't you?" The voice
was calm, hypnotic, and Roger nodded, ashamed of his weakness.  "Answer
me!" she commanded, again harsh and demanding.

   "Yes Mistress." He screamed as another stroke bit at his flesh.  Red
stripes on white skin, a fresh track for each lash of the whip.

   "What did you do to deserve this, Roger?

   "I...  I fucked another woman...  and my wife found out." He cringed,
anticipating another blow, gasping as instead a cool hand grasped his erect
cock.  Roger flinched, but lasted only a few swift strokes before spurting
his seed into the cool air of the dark basement.

   "Good boy, Roger.  Temptation is evil, isn't it?"

   "Yes, Mistress."

   "If you feel tempted, you shall come to me, isn't that right?"

   "Yes, Mistress."

   "Good boy.  You may take off your mask now.  We're done.  You've learned
your lesson." Exhausted, Roger collapsed to the ground and quickly removed
the heavy leather wrap.

   He turned, seeing the deceptively placid-looking woman, and behind her
his wife, demurely watching the spectacle.  Roger eyed the older woman
warily, still fearing the bite of her leather, until she smiled and helped
him to his feet, kissing him lightly on the forehead.

   "Such a good boy," she cooed, wiping his sweaty cheek.  "Sometimes you
just need reminding." Roger blushed, looking at the ground.

   "Thank you, Mother."
   The End