Message-ID: <15433eli$9809182251@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/15433.txt> From: np98rb@mail.telepac.pt (Christine & David Stevenson) Subject: Under Control part twenty-five of twenty eight Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Original-Message-ID: <35fff0e6.7739840@news.telepac.pt> Under Control - part twenty-five of twenty eight by mailto: VictorBruno@mschristine.com this story remains copyright Victor Bruno, release to publish granted to Christine Stevenson. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - It was during the second session that Karen began to flag. She kept on stumbling as they carried the trunks and, despite Paul's urgings, seemed to get steadily weaker. He sensed Miss Delia's eyes upon them and, though he was taking more of his share of the work, sensed that, as a team, they were not doing well enough. "For Christ's sake make a bigger effort," he kept on saying, "or we'll be for it." "I . . I can't . . . . I c-can't . . . ." moaned Karen, sobbing for breath. "Think of that tawse on your bottom," warned Paul. But even that frightening incentive seemed to make no difference. Then, on one journey to the pile, Karen finally tripped and sprawled in the dust . . . . bringing Paul down too. Instantly, Delia's megaphone-loud voice boomed at them. "You two . . . over here . . . at once . . . ." Karen and he struggled to their feet. Inwardly he cursed the girl. One way or another she and trouble seemed to go together. "Oh God . . . no . . . no . . . I couldn't help it, " she kept whimpering as they doubled towards Miss Delia. Paul said nothing, he had resigned himself to the inevitable. "I've had my eye on you two," said Delia. "Your work rate's been dropping fast in the last half hour. Just because back and muscles begin to ache a bit, you think it's O.K. to slack off. Well, it isn't." Paul hated her. Did she know the agony of muscles straining to the limit? Of course not. 'Ache a little,' she said. What a hideous understatement. She pointed to the framework in front of the dais. "Get yourselves over that," she ordered. Already Karen was beginning to sob. Paul felt the rough pine splinters against his belly. Then found his wrists and ankles being secured by slim thongs to what looked like large tent-pegs in the ground. Karen was similarly dealt with, right alongside him. He saw Delia unfasten the tawse from her belt . . . . and gritted his teeth. "A dozen apiece, I think," said Delia. "That might encourage you to put your backs into it." The hideous injustice of it was like a dagger in Paul's belly. Still, there was nothing to be done. One just had to accept it. There was a rushing sound then the resounding thwack of leather on flesh. Karen got the first one. A three-inch width of supple leather nearly half an inch thick. Little wonder that a howl of pain erupted from her. A sideways step from Delia and it was Paul's turn to feel it. The flaming swathe blazed across his flesh as Delia laid on with all the vigour she could command. Paul's head jerked up and a grunt of torment came from between his clenched teeth. Then Delia stepped back to Karen. It was thus that the punishment continued. Alternate strokes. Somehow it made it far worse . . . to hear the tawse falling across another bottom alongside yours . . . knowing it was coming to you in a few moments. Even worse than that was Delia's method of application. At least, it was in Paul's case; for with venomous skill, she laid on each stroke in almost precisely the same area . . . so that the swathe of fire across him got ever more agonisedly tender. No wonder, then, that after some half dozen he was no longer just grunting but yelling out almost as loudly as Karen. No doubt the sounds they were both making were a potent reminder to those who continued to toil in the background! When it was over Delia released them both and they staggered to their feet. Karen was weeping openly, desperately clasping her hands to her plump bottom . . . a bottom now covered in pink-red welts. Fortunately, Paul had not been reduced to the humiliation of tears . . . even though the pain in his buttocks . . . a single blazing belt of it . . . was well-nigh intolerable. He had, of course, become incredibly hardened over the months. "Get back to it . . ." rasped Delia. "And if I catch either of you slacking again, I'll cane the living daylights out of you in the Punishment Room tonight!" Oh Christ, not that, thought Paul . . . and poor young Karen uttered a shriek of dread. They both hurried back to the timber they had dropped and were soon relentlessly sweating their guts out again. Karen seemed to have acquired twice the energy. The tawse, and the threat of the cane, had worked wonders! So much had the threat concentrated their efforts that neither of them noticed Delia's next action. The combination of hot sunshine, power and punishment had set her blood boiling. She returned to the dais and ordered the serving girl to kneel between her black booted thighs. Then for the rest of the session she basked in sexual pleasure; the girl lapping gently and constantly, while Delia watched her charges sweating under her control. At long last the second stint came to an end. The exhausted slaves were formed in their squads, chained together, and then forced to jog-trot back to the slave farm. Four hours rest lay ahead of them . . . and they needed every minute of it! - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - This story is being released as an illustrated web book, for details of Victor Bruno Books available please contact VictorBruno@MsChristine.com http://www.mschristine.com/bruno.html Also published as text simultaneously on...... ------------------------------------------------------ The DOMestic mailing list is free of charge. Subscribe in subject line:- DOMestic@Ms-Christine.com Moderated by David & Christine Stevenson. Subscribe online at http://www.mschristine.com/domestic.html ------------------------------------------------------ The Fem Dom Training Software. Runs on all computers (Macs too!) 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