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wearing a tightly cut leather bodice that pushed her large breasts together, creating a deep

    cleavage. Her miniskirt molded flatteringly against her curvaceous form, and garters peeked out from its hem, holding up sheer black stockings that hugged her long, shapely legs. Black patent leather six inch heels completed the outfit.
    At close to six feet, with large breasts and broad hips, Brenda was an imposing figure. Her long dark red hair hung loose over the black leather vest. In her mid-thirties, she was still beautiful and today her green eyes sparkled as she wielded her favorite flogger. She did love to give a good whipping, and this slut had definitely earned hers.
    Brenda had watched and listened to Robert's introduction to the sensual pleasures via the closed-circuit camera, as Robert had guessed she would. Her own hand had crept to her pussy as she watched her husband expertly bring that slave cunt to orgasm. She knew precisely what Jane was feeling. Robert could always drive a woman wild. His tongue was like a magic wand, drawing the passion out of you no matter how you resisted. Watching him lick and fondle their new toy was both exciting and enraging. If she had probed her own feelings, Brenda would have had to admit that the jealousy was as much a factor in her arousal as the voyeuristic pleasure she took in watching her man use another.
    Then she would feel her blood heat with passion and with that familiar jealous rage which lent such fire to the beatings her slaves got after Robert used them. Today was no exception. "I want you to count each lash, and then you will thank me that many times for your whipping. Am I understood?" She punctuated the question with the second strike, this time to Jane's back.
    Jane jerked in pain and surprise, but managed to nod her understanding. She wished she could faint like the first day, but she remained mercilessly alert and aware. Now only muffled groans, whimpers and the whoosh and smack of the whip could be heard as she received each lash. Jane could never anticipate where the next blow would land. It might be her back, ass or thigh. Brenda would move from spot to spot, and then hit one tender area repeatedly, until Jane would actually feel relief to be struck at another, less tender spot.

    When at last the whipping stopped, Jane's skin was on fire and her face was flushed with exertion. Brenda removed the gag, though she didn't untie the hapless woman. The thick red lipstick had smeared over Jane's mouth and chin, making her look like a little girl who had gotten into red icing. Brenda snorted derisively, saying, "Your face is a mess, lipstick all over you like some backstreet whore."
    Brenda shifted the frame so that Jane was standing upright, though the dildo was still firmly embedded in her cunt. She pulled off the blindfold to reveal eyes wet with tears. Jane opened and closed her jaw several times, relieved to have the offending object removed at last. Brenda stood, regal in her outfit, eyes flashing, breasts heaving from having beaten the poor woman still bound in front of her.
    "Well," she said, waiting. "One thank you for each lash. Get it wrong and we start again."
    "T-thank you, Mistress," began Jane, trying not to cry.
    "That's one. Go on, girl. Are you a total idiot? Can't you count? Or do you want the whip again?" She raised her arm menacingly, whistling the whip in the air next to Jane, who flinched.
    "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you," Jane hurried to interject. She counted off twenty five 'thank you's,' praying she had gotten it right, terrified of another whipping on her tender aching flesh.
    Grudgingly Brenda said, "All right. So you can count. Later I'll require that you beg me to know what you can do to show your thanks for getting the beating you deserve. And you do deserve it, don't you, whore, for leading my husband on like that?"
    Jane didn't know at first what she meant, and then slowly a glimmer of understanding pierced her as she