Whipping time

However, her final night of use wasn't over yet. I disconnected her wrist chain, sparking a glimmer of hope in her eyes, which died when I reconnected them above her head to the ring in the ceiling. She watched knowingly as I got out my huge black single-tail whip and gave it a practice crack in the air, making her flinch. "One last time honey, I'm gonna relish every stroke and I know you will too." That was the advantage, I thought to myself, of selling her to a labour **** company rather than to an individual or a sexual service - it didn't matter how marked she was when they picked her up as long as her muscular ability for hard labour wasn't impacted.

For the next forty minutes I whipped her thoroughly all over. It was forty minutes of screams, tears, discomfort and of course **** pain for her, and sheer comfortable erotic delight for me. I took plenty of photos of her to remember, as indeed I had throughout the night. I had never been a precision whipper of girls, preferring more the fear and fun of the unknown that came when I just lashed animalistically at her full naked exposed body. That said, I managed to land blows between her legs, to my absolute satisfaction, though I got even more satisfaction by simply ordering her to keep her legs open constantly despite every instinct in her body screaming at her to close them protectively, and watching her quivering thighs as a result. I also landed great tit shots, and focused for a very long time on turning her little sensitive ass red.

The majority of the blows however landed directly on her front or back. I loved the simple punishment like slavery-treatment aspect of whipping her bare stretched out back - I loved how it was simply pain for causing pain's sake, as it was not an overly erotic area, and it was a big target. However whipping her front had the advantage of being able to watch her face, to look right into her eyes, to study the way her head thrashed and her teeth gritted, her tears, her readjusting stepping legs, the twist of her whole body in pain, the beautiful tension of every muscle clenched. My poor little girl. I felt truly sorry for her with every stroke (I did love her after all), but enjoyed the sight too much to stop.

After one photo I took immediately after a savage hit, a clear flash image which showed her front-on, tears streaking her face, her arms chained above her head and her whole observable body covered in vivid red striped, I told her "That's a gorgeous image, you look so hot in this one, well done. I'm going to frame this and have it on the shelf as my main visual memento of you at your peak."