A continuation of the selection from Exit to Eden, by Anne Rampling. Read the first part here."I'm a real fast learner," I said. I turned my head away from her. What the hell was I trying to do? It was bad enough. But I couldn't stand it, the sight of her, the tight vest and the plunging neck of her blouse.
"I hope so," she laughed softly. "I'm going to whip the hell out of you if you're not." And her lips touched me again, feeding on my neck. "What is this? All flustered already? You come against the bed while I'm whipping you and what do you think I'll do to you? Take a guess."
I didn't dare say anything.
"Now, while I'm punishing you," she said just as gently, smoothing the hair back from my forehead, "you're going to answer me properly and deferentially every time I address you, and you will control your powerful proud impulses, no matter what the provocation, you understand?"
"Yes, Madam," I said. I turned over and strained forward and kissed her before she could get away. She pulled in again, softening all over, and dropping down on her knees, kissed me, that same scorching current running through it, and the kiss almost touched off the bomb.
"Lisa," I whispered. I didn't even know why.
And she stayed still, very close, looking at me. And there was some instantaneous sense of why this was so horrific, that always before they'd been wearing masks in my imagination, the women and men who whipped me, or subjugated me... But she wasn't wearing a mask. The fantasy wasn't cloaking her. "I'm scared to death of you," I whispered. I could hear the amazement in my own voice. I was speaking so low I wondered if she could hear me. "I mean I... this is difficult, it's..."
"Good," she said. She drew back slowly. "Are you ready to be whipped?"
I made a little sigh and nodded.
"You have to do better than that."
"Yes, Madam."
She shook her head. She was studying me. I licked my lips a little, looking at her mouth. She was frowning slightly, her lashes a dark fringe as she looked down and then back at me. "I like the way you say Lisa," she said, thoughtfully, as if she was considering. "Let's change it to 'Yes, Lisa.'"
"Yes, Lisa." I was trembling.
"Good boy."
She disappeared to the foot of the bed. And when she started, she swung the strap as hard as one of the male handlers. And there was an efficiency to the way she whipped, making every lash count.
She went to work. It was like an examination, the way she spread the blows, and the pain built slowly, luxuriously, just the way the pleasure had... and I could feel myself breaking down, a slow exhilaration building under the pain, all the defenses weakening that would have been solid against her, had she gone at it more brutally, swiftly, with more noise.
Then the thrashing started in earnest.
I tensed my muscles, rising off the sheet. I couldn't keep quiet. I tried holding out as I always do, unwilling to let go, but it was no good. My body was cooking all over and I couldn't stand it any longer, the dazzling sting of the strap seeking out all the little places it had neglected, the excitement surging even as I tried to hold back, the strap teasing the big welts again. There came that priceless moment--a moment that doesn't always come--when I knew I had no control anymore, and I felt everything, everything, at the same time.
"You know you belong to me," she said.
"Yes, Lisa," I answered naturally, spontaneously.
"And you are here to please me."
"Yes, Lisa."
"And there will be no more impertinence."
"No, Lisa."
"And there will be no repeat of the impertinence I heard from you this afternoon."
"No, Lisa."
Finally I was moaning outright, and I couldn't pretend I wasn't. I kept my teeth shut even when I answered her... I had things to say to her that they hadn't made words for. But I didn't dare say anything except the proper answers, listening through the rain of blows to each question. I was ready for anything she would demand.
Finally she stopped. My skin was sizzling, every welt and mark steaming as she undid the cuffs with her maddening, delicate and quick little fingers and told me to get up.
I climbed off the bed drunkenly and I fell down on my knees in front of her, exhausted as if I'd been running for miles. My muscles hurt from the clenching and unclenching all through the whipping, and I wanted to take her in my arms so badly that I pressed my head to the floor. I was weakened with this feeling for her, drugged... I didn't care anymore about anything in the world, really, except her... The soreness and desire came in flashes.
"It was a good whipping, wasn't it?" She asked.
"Yes, Lisa," I nodded, letting out a little laugh in spite of myself. If you only knew--"Very good"--that I want to devour you. That I... what?
"Have you had better?" she asked. She nudged my cheek with the belt so that I looked up... "I would like to know."
"Longer and louder," I murmured. I knew I was smiling at her, almost ironically. "And harder, but not better."
"...do you want one of the last acts of this fort to be the whipping and punishment of a woman?"Well worth a visit, don't you think?
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