A static interior flogging

With a glance towards the curtained window beyond which a rapidly cooling evening awaits, your guest hesitates and then understandably opts for the decision that will keep her in the warm and away from prying eyes. You wonder whether she's taken into account the greater self control it will take to offer up her delectable body for lash after lash, but whatever happens, you're sure you, at least, will enjoy it immensely.

"Put your hands behind your head when you're ready to proceed and beg me to start," you tell your svelte colleague. "I know that you'll be screaming quite a bit, but do try to keep it down so that we don't disturb the neighbours."

She obeys, her stilettos keeping her on tiptoe so you don't need to instruct her to do that, then she promises to remain as quiet as she is able and immediately begins to plead for the first lash.

You admire her vulnerability, ribs just barely visible as her bosom rises and falls, anxiety and apprehension deepening her breathing. You take the handful of switches and raise them above your shoulder, locking eyes with the woman about to feel their impact for the first time, savouring her fear until you whip them sharply into her side, the supple rods curling around her torso and seeming to grip the contours of her chest while you draw them lengthways across her mortified flesh. The effect is immediate, Léa moaning and writhing, stifling a sob, the first of many tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

"Thank-you, Jaques. May I please have the second of last year's bumps?" Léa still pushes out her chest to receive the next lash, although her voice warbles slightly when she begs for it.

You follow up with a back-handed blow to the other side of her body, which causes no less anguish, then two more slightly lower, raising a pretty web of thin, pale weals that you find to be a more attractive adornment to the female form than any tattoo or body piercing. After the fifth stroke, just below her armpit, Léa struggles to keep her arms up, whimpering the required words whilst tears flow unchecked down her wan cheeks, so you vary things to stay unpredictable with strikes to either side of her waist, before returning to mirror the lash to beneath her other armpit. Léa is left wailing and gasping for breath, the agony consuming her, but she sobs out her gratitude, nevertheless.

Just two more, to the underside of her arms, which will chafe terribly in the coming days, forces her to stifle the first of many screams, so you take a short break and ask her how she's doing, whilst cupping one of her as-yet untouched breasts in your warm hand, rolling the stiff nipple between finger and thumb.

"Ohh, it hurts so much, Jaques, forgive me, it hurts so much…"

She trails off, wracked with tears and you ask whether she's strong enough to continue.

"Yes, Jaques," she answers bravely, after another sob. "Please may I be permitted to have my ninth bump."

This time, you stand to the side and momentarily rest the switches on the upper curve of her perfect pert boobies, leaving no doubt about your intended target. Léa shudders during the swing, so the rods land slightly higher than you wished, splashing one of the tears that have fallen from her chin, droplets flicking through the air in seeming slow motion. In your mind, this spanking is becoming a work of art and you reward yourself by finally administering the stroke you've been imagining from the start, welts appearing magically across both pink aureoles. You envision sucking on those stiff teats, gnawing agonizingly on the tender ridges while the young blonde writhes in torment beneath you, but that comes later, hopefully. Now, you have a switching to finish.

You give three vicious blows to Léa's belly, starting at the bottom and culminating in a cruel lash to the underside of her tits that elicits a reedy shriek, her body quivering while she gasps for the breath to thank you for making her suffer so. It seems a good time for another break, so you caress the weals you've inflicted lovingly and tell the weeping girl wearing them how proud you are of her, before guiding her to your sofa and telling her to lie face down. The fabric is not rough, but she still wails pitifully at the pressure on her tortured flesh, before begging you to continue, while you take another handful of switches and dry them. The first is still in fairly good condition, but it's better to be on the safe side.

Léa's calves are unaccustomed to chastisement and the two lashes you put there are enough to make her bury her face in the sofa cushion to stifle her screams.

"Head up, Léa," you admonish and she obeys at once, knowing you want to see the suffering on her face no less than the marks on her skin. "I'll give you a proper spanking for that later," you promise gently and she dissolves into complete hysterics at the thought of a proper spanking on top of her belated birthday bumps, but you are already thinking ahead and after two swingeing blows to the backs of her thighs, you skip over her peachy bum, inviting though it is, to deliver the next two to the small of her back. The beautiful lectrice's howls of anguish tell you that your decision was a good one and that the last couple of strokes were quite possibly the most painful yet.

You remind yourself that this is not a punishment and take another break, kneeling beside the sofa and squeezing one of Léa's buttocks reassuringly, before slipping your hand between her thighs.

"I think at least a couple of the last six should go here, don't you?" Your finger touches her intimate folds.

"Oui, I mean yes, Jaques," the tormented blonde sobs out, shoulders heaving. You tut in mock disappointment.

"You must be eager for more spankings, lapsing into French like that."

"Oooh, yes, Jaques, I'm so sorry. Please spank me for my disrespect."

"Later, girl. For now, decide how many with the switches you want on your fanny."

"Me decide? H-how many would you like to put there, Jaques?"

"All of them, Léa, all six." You pause while, appalled, she starts to hyperventilate in horror, then you continue. "This is not a disciplinary flogging, which is why I'm leaving the choice to you."