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From: "E.Z. Riter" <ezriter@hotmail.com>
Subject: {EZ}MyInhert28 Whipping Andy
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The attached work of fiction is intended to be entertainment for
adults in locations in which it is legal.  If it is illegal in your
location, DO NOT read.  This is a copyrighted work.  Reposting or any
other use strictly prohibited without the express, written permission
of the copyright holder, except may by posted as part of a  review or
posted to free-access, noncommercial archive sights.

Copyright 1998 by E. Z. Riter.

Please!  Give me your comments.

Email address: ezriter@hotmail.com

This is a mind control, multi person romance with a planned thirty
plus chapters. 


MY INHERITANCE

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. 

I heard the door open but did not look. I knew Mary must have joined
us. I was standing in front of Andy, at an angle, so my left hand
could play with her front and my right hand, which held the slapper,
could spank her back side. 

"Anyone need anything?" Mary asked.

"No, thanks, Mom."  

"Just a Diet Coke, please."  

Andy turned her head to look at her mother. I saw that look. It was
lust and happiness.  Oh, poor Andy.  So afraid.

Lazily, I played with her nipple with my left hand, twisting it gently
between thumb and forefinger.  She was looking at me, all her emotions
exposed in her face. That face, that lovely face, would tell me
exactly how to punish her, how to adjust the tempo and the force to
make this her pleasure.  She flexed the big muscles in her shoulders,
squirming slightly to turn towards me. Eyes closed, she struggled to
lean towards me to be kissed. I swatted her ass with the slapper,
getting a squeal for my effort. Her ass muscles quivered delightfully
as her eyes popped open, lust almost dripping from them. 

The key is the left hand to tantalize and touch her. Her skin will be
much more sensitive in places and less sensitive in others. I watched
her face, then swung the slapper, which came up to wrap around the
inside of her left thigh. Four sharp blows from above, two on each
thigh. "No! Please!" she barked. Every muscle was straining now,
trying to get away from the sting.  Rhythmically but lightly, a long
series of slaps from the top of her breasts to her lower stomach,
between navel and pussy as my finger slid in and out of her ass hole.
She watched each blow land on her front, flinching involuntarily. I
stopped, letting her feel the heat building and massaged her
shoulders.  

Wrapping her hair in my hand, I pulled her head back until she was
looking directly up to the ceiling. Letting the slapper dangle from my
wrist, I nibbled her throat as my right hand roughly massaged her
thighs where they join the body. 

Her breathing was ragged, hard. She was sweating profusely now, the
perspiration dripping to the floor. She groaned deep from her gut as I
yanked her head back further. My mouth found her left breast. I took
her tender flesh between my teeth and sucked, leaving a large hickey
on the top of the breast where it would be very visible when she wore
a bra. 

"Davy, Davy, Davy," she whimpered. She had been whimpering, moaning,
very vocal, as she continued to be. A hundred, no, a thousand times,
she asked me to stop. We both knew I would not and that she really did
not want me to. 

My cock hurt it was so hard. Behind her, I stripped, letting him free.
Concerned about what I was doing, she kept trying to swing around to
see me. 

She was an oven, with waves of heat rolling from her.  I could see
where the slapper had met her flesh by the red, and, I could feel by
the heat on her skin. But, she generated more heat than that.  Heat
also came from the strain on her muscles and the emotional stress of
being whipped. 

Mistress Diana had taught us one of the big mistakes a novice
dominator (or dominatrix) makes is the make the first blows too hard.
They should be hard enough to sting but not hard enough to cause more
pain than the subject can take. "Build up slowly," she had said.  The
purpose was to build sexual tension and desire. It had been twenty
minutes and it was working.  We were ready for the end game. 

I took a few ice cubes from my Coke glass and held them against her
pussy. Her eyes, which had been closed, popped open and she shivered.
I released the knot on the ropes holding her legs and they fell to the
floor.  She struggled to get her balance. I started swatting her ass
hard with the slapper. With each swat, she jumped and squealed until
she started sticking her ass back, offering it to the blow,
anticipating, wanting, begging, in essence, for another.  Then, a hard
slap across both nipples. She was thrashing violently.

Her golden hair was soaked from her sweat, plastered around her face
and neck, her eyes were wild and unfocused.  She was so close. I
stopped and stood back.  She was panting as if she had run a race. She
shook her head, trying to make her sex crazed mind determine why I
quit. She saw me standing there. 

I wish I could put a picture of her face here for you. It was pure,
raw, unadulterated, animal sex.  She flexed her muscles like a lioness
ready to pounce, her eyes locked onto mine.  She brought both legs off
the floor, doing the spilts as she hung from the ceiling. I brought
the slapper up directly across her pussy. 

She screamed as her body began flopping like a fish out of water. I
yanked her legs up, spread them and wrapped them around my waist. I
guided my cock into her. 

"Yes.  Yes.  Fuck me.  Fuck my cunt, you bastard. Fuck me until I
die!" she screamed directly in my face, as she locked her ankles
behind my back. Holding her by the waist, I fucked her as hard as I
could, feeling her pussy spasming. Her face was lustful intensity as
she moved up and down, guided by my hands but propelled by her thighs
around me. 

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," she screamed over and over, like some
kind of erotic prayer chant. I felt her thighs start to tighten and
her pussy squeezing. Slowly, her body straightened, her back arched as
the pressure on my cock and ribs became almost unbearable. Only the
suspension cuffs, kept her from being parallel to the floor. As it
was, she was looking back at the wall behind her although I am sure
she saw nothing.  Screaming ceased. Motion ceased. For an instant, all
was still. I thought my ribs would crack, the only sound I heard being
the bending of those bones like branches in a windstorm. She released
her breath like air escaping a pressure valve. 

She relaxed, even her legs releasing their death grip. An insane
laughter exploded from her. Then, she tightened and arched, gasping
wildly for breath as an orgasm erupted in her. Contract-gasp,
relax-laugh, came in a rapid fire sequence until she passed out. 

I fell to the floor as she dangled unconscious from the suspension
cuffs. I lay there trying to regain strength. Somehow, I managed to
carry her in my arms upstairs and put her in our big bed. I collapsed
by her.  I felt Mary cover us over before I, too, passed out.  

It was mid afternoon when I awakened. I untangled myself from Andy and
wandered towards the kitchen, moving slowly and feeling the tenderness
in my sides where her legs had held me. There I found a note from Mary
saying she would be back by four. Opening the refrigerator, I found a
container of home made soup ready to be nuked and a ham and cheese
sandwich on bakery bread.   I stuck the soup in the microwave, got a
quart of milk, a bag of potato chips, and the sandwich and sat down at
the table.  I ate all that, two bananas, an apple and an orange,
before I went back in the living room. 

I was resting with my eyes closed when I heard her. Andy was stalking
towards me from the bedroom.  I could see the blue on her breasts and
thighs, the yellow-purple of the hickey, the red splotches from the
slapper. Again, she looked like a hunting lioness. She sat across my
lap, drove her pussy down against my crotch and seized my head in her
hands. She kissed me hard, biting my lip, sucking my tongue deep into
her mouth. Holding my shoulders, she rolled out of the chair, pulling
me with her.  She shoved me to the floor, and, in a sixty-nine
position, shoved her pussy in my face.

"Eat me," she said. Then, she wrapped her lips around my cock. I ate
pussy as if my life depended on it.  No. I ate it like I loved it,
which I did.  She started orgasming almost immediately, pumping her
juices into my eager mouth. I do not know how many orgasms she had
before she collapsed and was instantly asleep.

See.  None of this would happened if I had programmed Andy only to
follow my commands.  

Andy was collapsed on me, her head on my leg, her fingers wrapped
around my cock, her pussy just inches away from my juice-covered face.
I heard the door open but did not move, thinking Mary was back.

I heard soft, feminine giggles. I squirmed to look back.  My sisters
were standing in the doorway.  Mom was wide eyed behind them. "You
girls let me through with this luggage," Dad said. He came into view,
laden with baggage like a camel on a desert caravan. 

"Hi, son.  Are we interrupting anything?"  I could see him staring at
Andy's hairless and still swollen pussy and her ass with its red and
blue splotches. 

"How was Aspen?" I asked. I mean, what would you have said if your
entire family found you buck naked, your face covered in pussy juice,
with a naked women on top of you and holding on to your cock? I do not
think Miss Manners has written a column about this social situation. 

"Oh, it was great, but we have to leave tomorrow and we wanted to
spend the night here with you," Mom chirped in.  

Looks like I have a full house again.  Fortunately, that is the way I
like it.  

To be continued . . . 

Please! Give me your comments.

Email address: ezriter@hotmail.com














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