Punishment

Vanessa stares at you with frightened eyes, struggling helplessly against her bonds.

"What are you going to do?" she whimpers. "You can just let me go. Isn't scaring me and tying me up enough? You don't have to do anything else. I've learned my lesson."

"I doubt that, Vanessa. I really do." You go to your desk and come back with the riding crop you used on Meghan earlier. When she sees it the bound girl writhes in fear her eyes widening.

"What are you going to do with.....OWWWWWW! Fuck! That Hurts! OWWWWW! Stop!" she howls as you lash her twice across her ass. "You can't do that! Stop it! OWWWWWW!"

"You know Vanessa you're right. I really shouldn't do this. I'm doing it all wrong." You put the crop down and reach under her, unbuttoning her jeans, then tugging them down over her ass. She's wearing a black thong which makes a delicious contrast against her pale skin.

"What are you doing! Stop it! You can't.....OWWWWWWWW! Stop! Please! That's enough! I'm Sorry! OWWWWWWWW!" she wails as you lash her again, leaving pretty red lines on her rump.

"You still have too much protection," you say, and pull her thong down, fully uncovering her ass.

"Pull my pants up, you fucking pervert! OWWWWWWW! Stop! My Grampa will kill you when he finds out what you're doing to me, he'll fucking kill you! OWWWWW! Stop!" Her face is crumpled in anger and fear, tears of pain running down her cheeks.

"Let's see what he thinks about the punishment his nasty little granddaughter is getting," you say, pulling out your cell phone and taking a picture of her, then another close up of her ass showing the marks of the lash. You show them to her, then write a quick text to Jim Gavin. "Punishment underway, here's an update." You show her the text and press send, then pick up the crop and stroke her ass with it, making her squirm. She looks up at you with furious tears running down her cheeks.

Your phone gives a ping and you see that Jim has responded to your text. "First class. Keep up the good work. Excellent pictures too." Smiling cruelly, you show her the text, and she sobs angrily.

"He's a bastard. You're both bastards. I hate him... OWWWWWW! Oh Fuck Stop! OWWWWW! Please! OWWWWWWW! Oh God please! Please don't hit me anymore! OWWWWWWW!"

"That's eleven. Let's make it an even dozen," you say and lash the squirming, crying girl a final time. She screams and writhes against her bonds then slumps on the table, sobbing disconsolately.

You watch her shuddering body, her rump striped with red, hear her sobs of distress, and consider the options.