It had been a bus to Boston, and the jet to
Atlanta, arriving after dark. There was a two-hour wait for the bus to Rose Hill, near where the
Palmers maintained their home, and it gave Stacy an opportunity to walk about the southern city.
She fell in love with the quaint and charming buildings, the ever-present fragrance of fruit blos- soms and the nicely dressed people. She was pleased to see a definite return, on many of the ladies, to quasi-period dress so reminiscent of the old South. It added a definite charm to the women of the South.
The bus left the terminal at ten and Stacy found it nearly empty. Not wishing to sit alone, she spied a pretty girl in the fourth row, and asked if she could join her. The bus was dark, but occasionally it would pass the lights of buildings and stores and gave Stacy a chance to study her traveling com- panion. The girl had jet-black hair with a beauti- fully exquisite face. Her skin was tan-brown and perfect. Her smile was radiant.
"Hi, I'm Stacy."
"Hi, I'm Sondra." Nothing was said for a while, but Stacy often stole a glance. The other girl laughed nicely.
"Yes, Stacy, I'm not white. Mulatto. Three- fourths black, one-fourth white, on my father's side, so to speak. Answer your thoughts?"
Stacy's face burned. "Oh, really, Sondra. I'm sorry. I wasn't at all trying to qualify you. It makes no difference at all to me. It's just that you're so… damnably beautiful, it's hard to stop looking at you. As a matter of fact, I really do like black girls, and I… oh, damn, Sondra, I'm just making it worse… I feel like an ass… oh, jeez."
Sondra took Stacy's hand in hers. "Hey, it's o.k., baby. I understand. You can stop fumbling around." Her smile made Stacy feel very nice.
"Thanks, Sondra. You're sweet. I'm a domestic.
Served in New England, and I'm on my way to
Briargate near Rose Hill. Mr. and Mrs. Palmer."
"Will miracles never cease?" said Sondra, laugh- ing. "Say hello to your fellow servant"
"You mean, you…"
"Yep! Briargate too! I've just served in Savan- nah. By the way, in the South it isn't domestics, it's servants."
"Oh, wow!" said Stacy. "I'm happy. We'll get along great, Sondra!"
Sondra had not released Stacy's hand, and Stacy had no desire to withdraw it. The girl smelled of fresh jasmine and its fragrance was intoxicating,
Stacy felt a familiar stirring in her loins.
"Been whipped a lot, Stacy?"
"Average amount, I'd say, Sondra."
"Where do you get it in New England? Don't know too much about up north."
"On the ass, usually."
"Whoopee. We call those 'spankings' down here in Georgia. They whip girls better down here. Al over, back, tits, ass. Whatever she has. You're
in for some yowlin', darling. You haven't been whipped yet, girl."
"Sounds like it, Sondra. No matter. Won't kill me."
Sondra wore a T-shirt with her skirt and Stacy couldn't help but notice the exaggerated twin points.
"Looks like you have quite a pair of nipples,
Sondra."
"Nipple weights in Savannah for a few months.
One inch exactly."
Stacy related the story of her former friend,
Trish, who underwent the same treatment. She also told of Dania with her sensuously long breasts.
"What about you, Stacy?" smiled Sondra.
"Well… oh, heck, my pussy."
"Stretched the lips?"
"Yep."
"Oooh. Nice. Haven't seen that yet."
"Want to?"
"Here… and now?"
"Sure. You show me your nipples, I'll show you my cunt. We can go in the rear. No one's back there, Sondra."
"Let's go."
They moved to the second last seat. The bus was dark, but there were occasional bright spots along the road. Sondra lifted up her T-shirt.
"Oh, God, they're beautiful," said Stacy as she fingered each one tenderly, an act which made them spring upwards to an angling tilt.
Stacy pulled up her skirt, and pushed aside her panty. Sondra stroked the moist lips.
"Never saw a pussy like that, Stacy. It's scrump- tious. Boy, what a set of lips!"
They sat in silence for a while, as the bus rolled through the dark countryside.
"Would you like to neck, Stacy?"
"Thought you'd never ask, darling," said Stacy.
"Rose Hill!" said the driver. The two girls un- tangled.
"God, can you kiss, Sondra!"
"You're pretty good yourself, Stacy. Never kissed a white girl before." She laughed.
Stacy laughed back. "Had that coming, didn't I?
Well, anyway, Miss Sondra, I think you're pretty special. I'm sure I'm going to fall in love with you."
"You're late, girl. I've already fallen for you. Bus trip was just a bit too short."
"Too short?"
"I was just about ready to get on the floor down here and sample your fantastic pussy."
"Rain check, honey?"
"Rain check. For sure."
Victoria Palmer had been excited all day. Much more so than a woman who had had servants be- fore, obviously. At twenty-four, Victoria would be not much older than the two she had taken on, a fact which she was aware of, to her delight. There is nothing like the first servants of a newly married girl. John had been most loving in offering two, especially since Briargate was small, and as an eager young wife Victoria would do a lot of the work herself. Stacy and Sondra, in a sense, would be playthings for the most part, a gift which most young Southern brides of any means were entitled to, In Georgia society a young woman simply must have a pretty servant or two. Victoria had looked at the photos of the two several times during the day, with increasingly rising excitement, most evi- dent in the moistness in her panties at times.
She drove alone to Rose Hill to meet the bus, for
John, as an understanding husband, had realized that, after alg the servants were Victoria's, and he wanted her to enjoy the moment of excitement fully. The two had bounced off the bus hand in hand, a fact which delighted Victoria when she saw them. How nice that they had already met and had obviously become friends! In return, the two were excited about the youth of their new mistress when they saw her. Neither had served a mistress under thirty, and understandably this new one would be an exciting change of pace.
The car was a blue Panther, large and roomy, and most elegant. Sondra and Stacy plumped into the front seat by their new mistress, and immedi- ately were pleased by the lovely lily-of-the-valley fragrance of Victoria. They gave each other a nod of agreement. Victoria was beautiful!
From the glove compartment, Victoria extracted two ropes.
"Girls are tied quite a bit down here in the
South," Victoria drawled. "Don't mind, do you?"
"No, ma'm," they answered in unison. Victoria's newness into the game of servants was apparent to both Stacy and Sondra, for a mistress shouldn't ask a servant if she minds being tied. Her newness was cute. They mentally agreed that they'd have to help Victoria in such matters.
"Show you the Georgia tie for two girls," smiled
Victoria. "Would you mind pulling your skirts up
… right up to your pants, please… that's it."
Victoria looped the rope around the adjoining thighs of each girl at the very top of each leg, and pulled the thigh of each girl tight to the other girl's
thigh, She pulled down their skirts, then with the second rope bound their adjoining arms together near the shoulder. Stacy immediately felt a tingle of arousal, for it was a first for her.
"There!" beamed Victoria. "Rather sweet, isn't it? Thigh-tying two girls is quite common down here. Was it so where either of you were?"
"No, ma'm," they replied. "I like it," said Stacy.
"The feel of a girl's thigh tied to mine is quite… nice. It rather stimulates… closeness."
"That's the idea, of course," said Victoria.
"When I was in girl scouts at twelve, I was thigh- tied to a girl all night. I'm afraid it was quite more than I, or she, could handle, and we did some terri- bly naughty things together. To be honest, I had a girl before I had a boy! By the way, girls, we don't use ma'm or mistress down here. Rather stuffy.
Please call me Miss Victoria."
"We will, Miss Victoria, thank you," said Stacy.
"But in return you'll have to stop asking if things ' are all right when you do them. Just do them, Miss
Victoria. Tie us, or whip us, or strip us, or love us.
Whatever. It's your right… and we needn't ap- prove or disapprove. And of course, you need say no pleases and thank-yous."
Victoria turned on a Southern blush. "I'm dread- fully new at this as you can tell. I'll improve, with your help." Victoria had said it so sweetly and honestly that Stacy felt immediate love for her.
She reached over and planted a kiss on Victoria's cheek.
The drive was fully half an hour, and gave the three females a nice chance to chat about the posi- tions and experiences of Stacy and Sondra. Each of the two gave a brief outline of their recent adventures.
"Do they have reform days for convicted females in Georgia, Miss Victoria'!"
"No, Stacy. Mostly only up north, I guess.
Sounds exciting, though. Goodness, they certainly hurt those Yankee gals at Woodriding, didn't they? Imagine you saw so many tortures. Really too much bother down here. Don't have too many basements and such because of the dampness. Not really too much space for proper torture chambers.
No, in Georgia females go right into prison farms, proper leg chains and everything. Mix them all together, girls and women, from fourteen and up.
They work in the fields, most of them stripped down pretty good because of the heat. We'll see some of them tomorrow when I take you shopping in Rose Hill. Really, though, I like the reform idea.
Gives a female an alternative to her term. I know
I'd take the torture rather than, say, three months or more. Next year our legislature is going to vote on reform punishment, and I think it might go, through. Women's groups are backing it. Don't fret, though. There are some other things just as exciting down here in Georgia!"
"Oh, tell us about them," said Stacy.
"Well, for one thing, just an awful lot of whip ping in the South. Kind of an ancient tradit,ion down here, back from the Confederate days. I don't mean just the servants either, like you two. Most pretty young wives as well. Man runs the show down here, as he should, and we wives need a good lacing now and again to keep us on our toes."
"You mean, you get whipped by your husband?" asked Stacy, most surprised.
Victoria laughed. "Yes, of course. Afraid we'll have to share the whipping post together. Don't look so surprised. Southern women take to whipping nicely. We need it. Been that way since before the Civil War. A wife of any merit simply takes the whip. If she doesn't she certainly isn't thought well of by the rest of us gals. A young woman with an unmarked back at the Country Club pool or ten- nis court is simply pointed at. Gracious! Then, of , course, there are the charity days in June and
October, at one of the plantations, to raise money for such good things, hospitals and such. All of us young women, married or unmarried, offer our ser- vices in various ways. If a girl doesn't she is ostra- cized. Very disgraceful."
"What do you do, Miss Victoria?" asked Sondra.
"Oh, it varies. The committee comes up with something new each time. You'll see when I take you. It's all volunteer, of course. They always have a whipping post though. Ten dollars per lash. Lots of girls volunteer. Nurses' aid girls get to do the whipping in payment for their endless service at the hospitals. Pretty things don't get much pay, so
'it's kind of nice for them. Men put up the money, and I'm afraid some are very well-to-do. A hundred- lash donation is quite common."
"Wow!" said Stacy.
Victoria smiled. "Yes, well, as I told you, South- ern girls are weaned on the whip. Some other pun- ishments are thought up too, for larger donations.
Then, some of us might volunteer, or be chosen, for the 'Whore Tent' as we call it. Sell our pussies. anyway, we raise an awful lot of money for a good use."
"And I always thought the South was conserva- tive!" laughed Stacy. "Anything else?"
"Well, only the slave sales."
"Slave sales?"
"Sure. Every gal over eighteen and under thirty has to serve six months as a slave before she can marry. Most counties anyway. She gets to choose her own time. Have a slave sale over in the county seat the lost Saturday of each month. It's very ex- citing with regular bidding and everything. The item is chained to wood posts for auction, stripped to her panties, so people can see what they're buy- ing. Anyone can buy her, man or woman, families.
I t's really a good idea for every young lady. Teaches her to serve and obey. Slavery makes a real woman out of her, to go into marriage."
"God!" said Stacy. "Fantastic. Sold right out on the street?"
"Oh, no. In the court house assembly room. But children can come. The slave is branded and ringed before sale, of course."
Stacy choked on her tongue. Conservative
South? La de da.
"You mean… you… I mean you… served?
"Sure, Stacy. Had to. It's the law. Last year served my six months. A young family over in
Atlanta." Victoria laughed at the looks on the faces of Sondra and Stacy. "Don't believe me, do you? Open up my blouse and turn the dome light on. Can't take my hands off the wheel, this road is tricky."
"Double wow!" said Stacy. "Can you see
Sondra?"
"I can see, Stacy. Geez, branded on both tits with an 'S' right near the tops!"
"They do it there so the 'S' will show when woman wears an evening gown or swimsuit and the like. When a woman serves, she's proud to show it
My, you two are excited about this thing, aren 't you? Well, of course it's all so new to you both. Old hat to us. I'll take you to a sale or two. Would you like that?"
"Oh, yes, Miss Victoria. Very much!" said Stacy. "What about your rings?"
"They came out of my nipples when my slavery was over. Free females don't wear rings, of course."
It had been the most interesting conversation that Stacy ever had, but soon the car wheeled up the lane to Briargate. It was close to midnight, yet the warm Georgia breeze was filled with the aroma of magnolias which bordered the lane. The bound thighs of the two girls were hot against each other in arousal, and when they walked in matched stride created by the binding, the sensation became even more intense.
"Geez, Sondra. Your thigh feels like silk against mine when we walk. You're turning me on, girl."
"Join the club!" said Sondra.
The introduction to John Palmer was made. A handsome young man, with rugged Southern polish. They were shown to their room by Victoria, a delightful eastern exposure overlooking an orchard. Stacy and Sondra were tired, for it had been a long day of travel, and it was late. They were, however, prepared to be called to the bed of the Palmers, for they assumed that since the cou- ple was very young they would quickly wish to sample their new servants. Yet, the Palmers were also class people, and understanding of the long day. Thus they were impressed and very pleased that bedding would not be the case on this night.
Victoria untied them, kissed them on the mouth, and left. The two weary girls bounced onto the bed.
"Well, that thigh-tying, and all the things she told us," said Sondra, "look, Stacy… just look!"
The dark girl lifted up her skirt. Her pink panty was soaked at her sex.
"What makes you so different?" laughed Stacy, showing Sondra her sopping crotch.
"Well, let's shower, honey," said Sondra. "Want to join me?"
"Try to keep me out of there. I'll give you the best soaping you ever had."
"Don't scrub me too hard, angel. Might make me white."
Stacy laughed wildly. It was beautiful that they could carry on this lovely little game of racial frivolity. She definitely was going to fall in love with this tan turn-on! The shower was marvelous.
"Too tired to eat?" smiled Stacy in a clever retort.
"If it's you on the menu, Stacy, no! Been hungry for your pussy ever since she tied our thighs to- gether in Rose Hill. Golly! Just remembered,
Never ate a white girl before! My former mistress was old and wasn't into that. Do you taste any dif ferent?" Stacy squealed in laughter.
"You're simply beautiful, Sondra! Try some white pussy and find out!"
Both of them found out. Twice.
They slept until midmorning, Stacy awaking first. It was a glorious morning to begin a glorious new position! Stacy got out of bed and stretched,
Sondra's black hair spilled all over the pillow, and gave Stacy momentary thoughts about having breakfast on her other set of black hair. Instead she went to the window to see what type of view was to be had. For one thing, the orchard was in brilliant white and pink display and the aroma was intoxicating. For another thing, there was a swim- ming pool. Stacy squealed in delight at this latest discovery. Swimming every day!
Within the blue water was something else. A naked female. Victoria Palmer.
"Hey, baby. Wake up," said Stacy, tugging at
Sondra's arm. "Want to see a pretty bod?" Sondra rubbed her eyes and went to the window.
"Mmm-hmm! Super, super chick. Look at that set of tits. That's all for us, Stacy, every loving inch of her."
The girls dressed in the outfits which they found in the dresser. Like Woodriding, the clothes would be shared. Unlike Woodriding, the bottom drawer contained an assortment of various colored panties, instead of just white. Victoria had shopped nicely for her two new servants, and certainly didn't believe in the regimentation of identical underpants for her girls. Not in the colorful South!
"I'll have to keep my pants separate," teased
Sondra. "White chicks won't wear pants that have been on a brown, will they?" She made Stacy laugh again.
"The heck I won't! We'll exchange 'em right off our butts at midday, if you want… you smart-ass, you!" She gave Sondra a good hard smack on her bottom, expecting a yowl. Instead she got a pair of arms around her neck.
"Is that all the harder you can spank?" said
Sondra. "Why don't you practice some on me.
Now. Say for an hour or so!"
"You tempt me, darling. But we better get our asses downstairs."
Interestingly, the servants's costumes at Briar- gate were the exact opposite of Woodriding. In
Vermont it had been long skirts, and very short blouses. Here, it was high-neck blouses and very short skirts. Indeed, the dark blue skirts were not much longer than the underpants.
By the time they arrived downstairs, Victoria had finished her swim and was dressed and having breakfast with her husband. They greeted the two girls warmly. Unlike Woodriding, one didn't have to pull up three feet of skirt to curtsy properly. One didn't have to pull up the brief skirt at all. They kissed Victoria and John properly before sitting down to toast, jam and orange juice.
"Well, where are the women in my life off to today?" asked John.
"Into Rose Hill, darling," said Victoria. "Have to stop in at Martha's Boutique to get Stacy and
Sondra fitted for chains, and some other items.
Really suppose I should buy a couple of more whips too. I noticed after you whipped me last
Monday, darling, that our poor whip is a bit frayed looking."
"Good idea, dear. Why not get three or four.
Various sizes. Might as well be properly stocked.
Three girls being whipped around here will take its toll on even the best of whips."
The countryside was beautiful as Victoria drove through the gently rolling terrain. Once again,
Sondra and Stacy were thigh-tied in the front seat.
If they had not have been, they might have asked for it.
"There's your prison girls," said Victoria, point- ing to a cotton field. There were perhaps fifty females in the field, cutting the plants by hand.
Each wore ankle chains. All were bare-breasted in the hot sun, their bodies glistening and shiny with deep tans. Some wore cutoff jeans, most wore their panties.
"Wow," exclaimed Stacy. "I've never seen so many nearly bare girls all at once. Cute. Hey, some of them are naked and chained to another prisoner.
What's the story, Miss Victoria?"
"Oh, those. Well, they're the young ones, four- teen, fifteen mostly. There's kind of a system with- in the system at prison farms. The young ones are fought over when they arrive and belong to who- ever wins them. Their lovers chain them to them- selves so no other one can get near them. Usually keep their little girls naked, as you see. One night in prison and a young one is an expert lesbian.
Sometimes the older girls trade the young ones too."
"Kinda exciting," said Sondra; "Teach the young ones not to get into prison, doesn't it?"
Rose Hill by day was a delightful little town, and
Victoria parked the car at the square. The ropes were removed and left on the seat for the return trip. Martha's Boutique was a small but elegant shop under a huge magnolia, and Victoria led the girls across the hot blacktop street into its cool interior. The proprietor was rather heavy-set, but pleasant enough looking.
"Hello, Martha."
"Why, Victoria. So glad to see you. How's
John?"
"Just fine, Martha, just fine. Meet Stacy and
Sondra, my new servants."
"Oh, they're just adorable, Victoria. Francy
Donner mentioned that you were getting some ser- vants. I'm so pleased for you. Want to get them measured?"
"Yes, Martha. Like to purchase some whips too."
The door of the shop opened and a cute little moppet waltzed in eating an ice cream cone.
T-shirt, shorts, tennis shoes. The perfect tyke.
"Abby Moreland's daughter," said Martha by way of telling Victoria. "Works for me part time.
Deliver my package to the post office, Julie?"
"Yes, Martha. Bet I did."
"May I have the receipt of register." Julie fum- bled in her shorts pocket, once, twice. Her face turned red.
"Must have lost it. Oh, dear."
"Julie, whatever am I going to do with you?
That's the third time this month you fouled up, girl. I really should consider hiring someone else."
"Oh, please, Martha. I really need the job. I will be more careful. Really I will. Don't let me go."
"Well, one more chance, and that's it, Julie.
O.K., in the back room with you. I'm going to blis- ter you today."
"Yes, Martha." Julie finished her cone and slipped out of her shorts, which she threw on the counter. She wore the tiniest underpants Stacy had ever seen. But then again, Julie was very tiny her- self. She wandered off into another room.
"Why don't you look over the whips, Victoria.
They're all there on the wall. Will you excuse me, please. Have to attend to Julie. Won't take long."
"I understand," said Victoria, "take your time.
We're in no hurry."
Victoria and the servants began to look at the whips as the unmistakable sound of hand against young buttocks emanated from the back room. The crisp smacking was a steady rhythm of hot appli- cation. Nothing was heard from Julie.
"Tough little cookie, isn't she?" said Stacy to
Sondra. "Hasn't made a peep yet." It was fully two minutes before a high-pitched little series of wails began.
"There it is," said Sondra. "Finally."
Eventually, Martha returned, followed by a peni-. tent moppet. Julie's face was flushed and she was doing her best to hide her wet eyes from the cus- tomers as she slipped into her ragged shorts. With permission, she went out to play.
"I'll take these four whips," said Victoria, laying the snaky items on the counter. "Would you mea- sure my girls now, Martha?"
Martha produced her cloth tape measure and set about her task, measuring ankles and wrists.
"Sondra has slightly larger ankles than Stacy," she pointed out, "but Stacy has a little thicker wrist. I'll have the chains by Tuesday, Victoria. I'll put little Julie on them first thing tomorrow. Regu- lar three-foot wrist chains, I assume, but how about the ankles. They come in the three sizes, you know. Three-foot for appearance, two-foot for slightly modified steps, and the one-footer for ex- citing little half-step walking. Selling more and more of the one-footers now. Look cute on a girl."
"No, I don't really care for the one-foot ones,
Martha. I like to see a girl with just a slight modifi- cation of her walk. I'll take the two-footers."
"Very well, Victoria. They're twenty dollars apiece. Same for the wrist chains. I'll charge it to your account. Could I interest you in a branding iron and nipple rings? Starting to come into fash- ion over in Porter County for servants."
"Well, I hope our county stays the way it is," said Victoria with concern. "Branding and nipple rings should be kept for slavery service. A girl like those of us who have served is quite jealous of being branded and ringed. It's quite an honor, and very meaningful to us. If people start doing it to servant girls it waters down the meaning of the whole thing, you see. Slavery is different than being a servant. No, Martha, I'm not interested in those items."
"You make a good point, Victoria. Probably be repealed over in Porter soon, as a matter of fact.
Glad I didn't stock too many. How about a bit on leather gag?"
"Mmmm… no… not this time, Martha. May- be in the near future. Frankly, I really am not too keen on mouthpieces, except for punishment of a mouthy servant. Stacy and Sondra seem to say only nice things, so I don't think they'll be requir- ing a mouthpiece. Well, I'll be in Tuesday for the chains."
Victoria picked up some groceries, and headed out of town once again.
"What did you think of Martha's place, Stacy?"
"It was lovely, Miss Victoria. Thank you for our chains. By the way, I enjoyed the floor show too!"
"Oh, you mean Julie's spanking? But you didn't see it, Stacy."
"Didn't see it, but heard it. First time I ever just heard a spanking. I found it terribly sexy to listen to a girl being spanked. Quite an exciting experi- ence, I thought."
"It was," agreed Sondra.
"How would you girls like a swim and a rubdown at the Country Club before going on to Briargate?" asked Victoria.
Sondra and Stacy were rather stunned. The
Country Club! Servants didn't go to country clubs!
Victoria recognized their wonderment.
"We're not as stuffy down here as they are up north. Mistresses always take their girls with them wherever they go. Or their slaves, if they happen to own one at the time. John said he would buy me one on our second anniversary, by the way. Any- way, it's off to the club!"
The lockerroom was plush, made even more so by the ordering of Tom Collins for all three.
Victoria slipped into a magnificent orange bikini.
"Servant girls or slaves swim in their under- pants," said Victoria. "Come on, get undressed… it's o.k… There'll be some other servants in the pool. No one will stare at you."
Yet, with all the domestic service behind them,
Stacy and Sondra felt somewhat uneasy when they accompanied Victoria out to the pool deck. After all, this was more or less public, with men, boys and everything else. However, within several min- utes, their apprehension went away for, as Victoria had predicted, there were four or five other ser- vants attired in the same attire, or lack of it. They were glanced at, but not leered at, and began to feel comfortable. The water was delicious.
Servant girls have a rather unique sisterhood even though strangers. They speak a message of love and understanding that is not apparent in other, non-domestic, girls. Words need not be spoken, and seldom are, between servants who do not know one another. Especially in such places as in public, or at the Country Club pool, for instance.
Yet, their eyes meet in brief, naughty glances and give a silent message. Like the servant in black panties and long blonde hair in the deep water end.
Her eyes found Stacy on the diving board, and
Stacy got the message. Come here, girl Stacy made a perfect dive and came up close to the blonde. There were, of course, no words. Servants didn't talk to one another, or to anyone, at the
Country Club. They were to be seen, not heard. Nor did they play obvious girl games with one another.
Such disportment would be out of place and very embarrassing to their mistress. A severe hiding could be expected. Yet, girls can be subtle and
discreet when they put their minds to it. And un- observed. Especially in the deep water. Under the rippling camouflage of the water Stacy put her hands on the blonde's breasts, and felt the girl return the favor. Brief, careful, unobserved. A break for a swim to dispel any possible wondering eyes, then, by "accident" meeting again in the deep water. Two quick hands inside each other's panty at the sex, deep below the water.
"Ohhh," gasped the blonde softly. It lasted only a second.
"Bye, darling," whispered Stacy. It was over, and unobserved. There was not time for any more than that brief touch, but it had been nice.
The men at the pool, of course, were subtle and clever about their glances at the few servant girls.
They need conduct themselves with dignity at such places as The Club. The younger boys, how- ever, weren't quite as experienced or adept in hid- ing their perusal of four or five pretty girls in sheer, wet panties, which did nothing to hide the dark patch of silken hair beneath. Their eyes were, at times, owl-like, their heads turning slowly to catch the next pair of interesting young breasts that swam by. They did the best they could to cover their enjoyment of the girls, but many of the boys could not leave the water at times for fear of everyone seeing their arousement in their wet trunks.
Stacy had noticed that many of the younger women, in their brief bikinis, revealed the letter 'S' on the bare top halves of their breasts. The brands, denoting obviously their slavery service, were now dark brown, but perfectly distinct and sharply de- fined. They swam for an hour before heading for the lockerroom again, and as they passed through the carpeted hallway they saw a clubwoman lead- ing her girl out to the pool. It was a slave, not a servant. The girl wore a collar shackle, her breast brands were fairly fresh and still red-brown, and glistening rings dangled from her erect nipples.
"Wow," said Stacy, softly.
"Me too, wow!" said Sondra. Victoria smiled at her two servants.
"First.nipple rings you've seen, girls?" They nodded happily. "That's Nancy Becker. Went into slavery two weeks ago. Nice girl. Getting married after her service. The Mortimers bought her."
Stacy and Sondra were, naturally, in seventh heaven. To swim at The Club, and to get a mas- sage! Just like club members! La de da!.The mas- sage room was unoccupied at present except for the three college girls in sheer leotards who were employed as masseuses. Victoria, Sondra and
Stacy plopped, naked, onto separate tables.
The college girls were divine in their ministra- tions. A soothing lotion and tender fingers plied and massaged legs, arms, tummies and backs, as well as upthrust bottoms and warm breasts. The masseuses lingered longer on the breasts for they knew the pleasure it brought, and their expert touch quickly brought the nipples to full erection.
The sensual and relaxing feeling of the long, lazy rubdowri was drowsily intoxicating, and produced almost a sleep. In the half-daze, Stacy felt her legs gently parted by her masseuse, followed by a warm, wet tongue. It wasn't an eroticism by the masseuses, Just the normal final part of a female rubdown in the better clubs. In the men's locker, three other college girls applied their oral talents as the concluding service also. It was most customary.
Victoria, and her flanking servants, gasped and moaned softly in a trio of sound. The college girls- worked at their task until they had wrung the ex- pected orgasms, toweled their charges, and sent them off to a hot shower. The three felt tingly- warm and invigorated when they returned to the car. For Stacy and Sondra, their first day, so far, had been spent sharing the sophistications of the upper class, a pleasure most delightful. Victoria turned on the ignition. Stacy and Sondra pulled up their brief skirts, and snuggled their thighs to- gether.
"Ahem," coughed Stacy.
"Oh, dear," laughed Victoria. "You see, I do for- get. Thanks for reminding me, Stacy." She pulled the thigh rope tightly into the flesh of the two, almost sinking out of sight in the young legs. The adjoining shoulders followed.
"Thank you, Miss Victoria." Sondra and Stacy had their thank-yous down to a perfectly timed duet. Stacy let her hand slip inside Victoria's skirt and felt her warm thigh. She glanced quickly at her face to see if her forward action would be met with displeasure, for a domestic was not privileged to initiate such naughtiness without permission. Any kind of a look of concern or disfavor and Stacy would quickly withdraw her hand. Victoria kept her eyes fastened on the road as she drove, but her tongue slowly licked one lip. Stacy was expert at knowing the feeling inherent in the inside of the thigh, and let her caressing finger move slowly, inch by inch, upwards. She knew well that the sub- tle advancing of her finger would be driving Vic- toria rather wild. It was indeed, and Victoria bit her lower lip as she tried to concentrate on the road. Eventually, Stacy's finger reached the silken strip of panties between her legs, and found it ter- ribly hot and wet. Victoria pushed her hand away.
"I'm sorry, Miss Victoria. It wasn't too smart when you're driving."
"I'm new at this, Stacy, but please don't take advantage of me. You should never take such liber- ties unless you're told to. Let's get that straight right now."
"I am sorry, Miss Victoria. I really am. The priv- ileges that I was shown today went to my head,
I'm afraid. Rather spoiled us. I just wasn't used to such things and got a little cocky, the Country
Club and all. I can assure you that any future trips to The Club will not result in my forgetting my sta- tion again. I promise."
"And I should have stopped Stacy when I saw her playing girl games with you, Miss Victoria," said Sondra. "I knew she was wrong, but I just sat here and enjoyed watching the look on your face when her finger got closer and closer. I'm terribly sorry also."
"Well. Very well then. But not again," said
Victoria seriously. "You should be whipped hard, the both of you. I wasn't going to whip you for a few days, but I'm afraid you shall have to be lashed when we get home."
The duet spoke. "Yes, Miss Victoria." Sondra and Stacy rubbed their bound thighs together in a silent Western Union message. Both received it loud and clear. Victoria was coming along fine!
Sondra put her face in Stacy's hair and whispered into her ear.
"You played with her leg on purpose, didn't you, baby?"
"Shhh… yes."
Both girls lay their heads back against the seat.
Each had learned early in their domestic careers that the anticipation of a whipping was unique and magnificent. It was not really an eagerly awaited activity, for it did hurt awfully. But the utter knowledge that it was to come was almost intoxi- cating. The punishment of waiting was nearly as bad as the actual whipping itself. Stacy could al- ready actually feel the burning leather.
Victoria Palmer glanced over at the two girls who reposed with closed eyes. She knew that they were thinking about the whipping. In truth, Vic- toria was thinking even harder about it. She had been whipped often, but had never whipped a girl herself as yet. The thought of it caused waves of sexual emotion within her. In truth, Victoria had not planned on whipping them for some time, frightened of her own desires, and afraid that her lack of experience with the whip might be evident.
She shook her head in anger at herself. She must get with it. After all she was a mistress and quite responsible for the discipline of these two young- sters! Victoria Palmer was only experiencing the same apprehensions as many other "first-time" mistresses. After the first whipping, it would be easy. Why, that flirty Stacy had actually provoked her into whipping them! Victoria knew that. Very well. I'll whip her so hard she won't ever do that again!
Victoria glanced once again at Stacy. The girl's big brown eyes were looking right back at her. In those eyes were love for Victoria, and they were the submissive eyes of a girl who was going to be whipped looking into the eyes of the girl who would do the whipping. They were eyes of total surrender.
The effect on Victoria Palmer was devastating… she would have to change panties when she got home.
Victoria chose her prettiest white shorts to wear for the whipping, and elected to be bare-breasted.
After all, it was the first occasion of whipping for the lovely Georgia young lady. She looked at her-
'self in the mirror and liked what she saw. She had chosen one of the new whips and had tried its pliability in her bedroom, snapping and swishing it in mock reality. Its very sound made her nipples stand up.
Stacy and Sondra sat in the lawn chairs near the post, and the sight of Victoria walking elegantly towards them was exciting. Victoria knew how to walk, and her full breasts bounced perfectly. Stacy reached out for Sondra's hand and squeezed it briefly before the two of them stood up. Girls did not sit when approached by their employers
They had decided that Stacy would go first by flipping a coin, and as Victoria arrived, she curt- syed, straightened up, and removed her clothes.
Naked, Stacy went to the post. One didn't wait for such an order. A girl simply went to the place of punishment on her own. Stacy had not been lashed at a post before, nor struck anywhere but on her bottom, and in a way was anxious to sample the traditional Southern-style flogging. Without being told, she put her hands high up to the wrist mana- cles which hung silently from the top of the heavy oaken post. Victoria adjusted the linkage so that
Stacy rested only on her tiptoes. Visions of Civil
War plantations flashed through Stacy's thoughts.
Sondra was well trained in whipping formalities among servants. A girl did not sit and watch a sister servant whipped. It was a basic rule. She stood near the recipient and watched every single lash strike. The purpose of such formalities was ancient, and dated back to Roman days. Having to watch the effect of the whip on another girl, pre- ceding one's own whipping, naturally added to the punishment. To watch the weals form, knowing that one's own flesh would soon be so marked simi- larly, was additional torture. It was why it was better to go first, if possible.
"In the South, the lashes are counted," said
Victoria. "When there are two girls, one counts them for the other. Also, by custom, a girl an- nounces her reason for being whipped. Even a wife when she's punished. You may begin, Stacy."
"I put my hand on your thigh, Miss Victoria, while we were driving home. I shouldn't have done so, and should be whipped for taking such liberties without permission."
"Upon my thigh, Stacy? Where? I would say if it was just above my knee it would merit twenty lashes. If your fingers went up further, then it should be more."
"I… touched you… all the way up, little by little."
"Goodness, girl. That's at least forty… unless you actually got to my underpants… then that would be fifty."
"I touched your pants, Miss Victoria… you know I did."
Victoria was pleased with herself. The word games certainly added quite a bit to the excite- ment.
"Fifty lashes it is then. Forty on the backside of you, ten on the breasts. Are you ready to count,
Sondra?"
"Yes, Miss Victoria, I'm ready."
"Call her a name, Sondra, and ask that it begin.
You know that she was bad."
"You're a little bitch, Stacy. You shouldn't have done what you did. Whip the little bitch, Miss
Victoria."
Stacy knew that word games were a sophisti- cated addition to whipping. It was, in effect, a per- formance, which milked all the eroticism possible from the situation. Yet, even though she knew
Sondra's words were true and that Sondra meant them, they stung, as they were supposed to. But she knew that a companion servant, even if in love with her, must always honestly urge that punish- ment be given if needed.
For the first time in her life, Stacy felt a whip slice hotly across her slender back. Victoria waited before issuing the second, for she wished to study the slowly blooming streak. Like anything else, whipping took practice and experience to become perfect and it was, of course, Victoria's first ven- ture into the wealing of girl flesh. The lash mark was not livid enough, she realized. She knew well how a proper mark should appear, having seen many, many whippings, and naturally studying ,her own striations on plentiful occasions. The second lash brought a hiss from Stacy. Too hard. It had sliced her skin slightly, and a red trickle oozed slowly downwards. The third was much better. The streak was red, and brought the properly raised ridge of skin. Comfortable now with the right amount of strength and the perfect, sharp retort,
Victoria settled down to her task while Sondra loudly called out the numbers. Forty lashes would just nicely cover Stacy, from shoulderblades to the middle of her thighs. One, naturally, did not whip a female in a pattern of inch by inch descension.
That was indeed much too mechanical and allowed the recipient to gauge where her next reception would occur. Thus the lashes should be varied in alternation, high on the back, the upper thighs, the buttocks. Occasionally, two in the same place. Any unpredictable pattern to keep a female guessing.
Stacy did quite well, it being the tenth stroke before she began her oral response of any signifi- cance. Occasionally, one or the other of her legs would bend upwards in response to a particularly punishing reception. If a bystander happened to witness the scene at the post, he or she would of course see the lashes fall, and hear the sound of the whip and the yowls. But the spectator would not be able to see inside the thoughts of the three females who acted out the age-old activity. Each had definite emotions and feelings, quite independ- ent of the actual physical activity involved.
For the girl being whipped, Stacy, the normal feeling of utter and complete submission was quite strong. In addition, a girl always reflected on the significance of what was happening to her and, to a great degree, the eroticism of it. In this case,
Stacy's strongest thought was that she was naked, and that another female was whipping her back and bottom with purpose and pleasure. She reflect- ed on the whipping of females since the beginning of man. Why were females whipped almost as a matter of course? Why was the appeal so great that even other females eagerly wished to lash females?
For the whipper, Victoria, her emotions were, quite truthfully, mainly sexual, It was only normal for any girl to be aroused in whipping another.
Why deny it? Was there any chance that she would feel at least a tiny bit of sympathy for the stria- tions which she caused on Stacy's skin? None at
all. Females do not for a minute have any reserva- tions about such things, especially a female who herself has tasted the whip. Turnabout is very fair play.
For Sondra, the complexity of her thoughts was probably the most interesting of all three, even though she was the- only one not physically in- volved at the moment. Firstly, she saw the hurt and the results of the lashes on Stacy's flesh, knowing full well that in a short time her body would also be subject to such serious punishment.
It was quite significant to be made to watch first.
Secondly, her thoughts about Stacy's whipping were threefold, and terribly intertwined. Stacy was her friend, sister-servant, and definitely her lover.
Thus, in one way, she was not overjoyed to watch her loved one hurt. But, Sondra was a highly trained servant, and a real girl, and she knew that her friend deserved the whipping without question.
Thus, in a directly opposing thought, she was pleased to see her whipped to teach her a lesson.
Lastly, Sondra's female emotions could not help but be sexually aroused by witnessing the whip- ping. Like Victoria, she could not help this aspect of it. It was just the way girls are. Indeed, the fact that Stacy was her loved one, aroused her more than if it had been a stranger.
By the twentieth lash, Stacy was nicely into full- throated screams. It was not embarrassing to her.
Whipped girls are supposed to yowl. Some domes- tics bragged that they could go to such and such number of lashes before uttering the first real cry.
It was foolish. It did not make a female any more or less a woman to cry out on the fifth lash or the thirtieth. It was irrelevant.
"Forty!" yelled Sondra. Stacy lay against her post for just a moment.
"May I have a moment, Miss Victoria? I haven't been whipped like this before. It hurts very much."
"Of course, Stacy." The moment of rest was quite nice. Stacy took, finally, a deep breath and turned around in her wrist chains to face Victoria.
Another deep breath, then thrust her breasts out- wards in offering.
"Very nice, Stacy," said Victoria. "I like a female who offers her breasts and keeps them there. A reaI
Southern girl will do so. You belong down here in
Georgia, honey."
"Thank you, Miss Victoria."
"You may instruct the commencement, once again, Sondra, and count off the ten."
"Whip the bitch's tits, Miss Victoria."
"Thank you, Sondra," said Victoria, raising the lash high.
The singing whine struck Stacy expertly.
"Owwwwwwww. Whooee." It had hurt more than she had anticipated. Stacy decided that she better lay her head against her armpit, close her eyes and clench her teeth. For the first time, she realized how the young ladies in the reform room at
Woodriding must have felt to be breast-whipped.
A girl just simply doesn't know by watching. Some of Victoria's lashes caught one or both nipples, an event which caused them to sprout erect in pain.
Besides the terrible hurt, Stacy was surprised to feel the tremendous bouncing of her breasts when they were struck.
"Ten!" said Sondra. Stacy felt herself un- shackled. Her first steps were quite wobbly, but she remembered her duty to kneel and thank
Victoria.
Stacy and Sondra changed places, with Stacy using some choice words in her turn. In reality,
Stacy had just a little more excitement than
Sondra did in witnessing, for her whipping was over. She shouted out the numbers in louder than normal enthusiasm.
Victoria's face was flushed in excitement, an observation which efficient servant girls should recognize. Stacy and Sondra were efficient.
"May we have permission to show our submis- sion to the excellent whippings you gave us, Miss
Victoria?" asked Stacy.
"Yes." Victoria sighed softly. Sondra pulled off
Victoria's shorts, and Stacy peeled down the utter- ly soaked panties. They eased her gently down onto the warm grass.
Victoria Palmer was taken, first by Sondra, then by Stacy, with an efficiency which carried her shrill cries of completion to the mailman who walked a block away on the county road. Then both took her together, two eager faces nestling side by side between the apex of Victoria's legs. Within a min- ute, Victoria held a head of hair in each hand and began to squirm and thrash quite nicely.
"That… will… do… just… fine…" said
Victoria eventually. In truth, it had been the very first time Victoria had experienced a long series of wrenching orgasms, one after another. The whipped walked quite perfectly now, back to the house. The whipper walked quite wobbly. Could anything be stranger?