Return to Avondale

Chapter Five

The punishment and training of Avondale girls was not haphazard or come-as-you-may. It had been charted and planned and improved upon over the years through the experience of many lovely and wise headmistresses. It was a simple and undeniable fact that girls were wonderful at acclimating themselves to punishment if given time to adjust. It could be increased nicely, if patience and care were taken, to fantastic levels.

But time was needed for most girls, and rightly so, to learn to accept and expect increased training.

Ultimately, when a girl began to enjoy punishment she could be brought to any level, and anything could b6 done to her. The task was not all that difficult, fortunately, for girls possessed that unique and singular trait almost without exception. It was one of the surprising and delightful things in the world, among other things. Girls were made to be played with, whipped, hurt, and punished. Simply because they were girls.

Eventually any girl could be made to fully realize this. First was mere tolerance. Then acceptance.

Then an appetite for it. The stages came naturally, some girls faster than others. But eventually a girl would herself admit that since she was born a girl she should be made to bear punishments as a natural condition of her gender. When a girl reached this point she became one of earth's most fantastic creatures. She questioned not, punishment, the why of it, or what it was. That was up to others to decide. There need be no reason for punishment, other than she was a girl and her body was designed for punishment, thus a girl was punished for simply being a girl. If girls had not been meant to be punished, sexually taken, and chained, their bodies would not have been designed as they were.

A fully trained and elegant female would be the first to admit that the punishment of herself provided pleasure to others, thus what better role could she play than to have her body used for pleasing others? It became her role, her duty, her joy!

Pamela knew full well that the first two months at Avondale were easy, and she was intelligent enough to realize that she was far from trained into the kind of woman she wanted to be. It would take far more hurt and abuse and degradation to change her from a bouncy girl into a lovely and perfect young woman, and in a way, she looked forward to it.

Girls such as Pamela, who anticipated and expected a steadily increasing level of punishment, and would admit that it was necessary, were marvelous things to work with, and totally alluring. In her first two months Pamela had been brought along on schedule. She had learned that rope and chain were not occasional adornments to be used in girl games. They were part of being a girl just as much as skirts, lipstick and panties. Those items certainly were not boy-things, nor were the ropes and chains. They were meant for females. Pamela would leave Avondale feeling odd without some sort of confinement on her limbs somewhere. A girl became used to it and it seemed wrong without. If necessary, she would find some bits of rope or chain at home and affix them herself if she couldn't find someone else to do it.

She had learned quickly that girls were lovely things to make love to, and that that province needn't be reserved for boys alone. Girls were anyone's fair game and provided extreme pleasure for boys and girls alike. Boys used different, bodily parts to love a girl with, because girls just simply have that part, but made do nicely with other parts which a girl recipient enjoyed just as much. The word lesbian, once a nasty word, now was adored and honored. All girls were lesbian if given the chance to find out, and if they didn't, it was a terrible loss. Pamela had found that girls could fall in love.with girls, and that it was very natural.

She had learned the basics of slavery, a female's ultimate joy whether she served master or mis- tress. There was no other emotion so satisfying to a female as to serve and obey.

She had learned about the whip, in a moderate way, and knew that that delightful rear portion of a girl was intended and designed to be whipped.

She knew also that she had but, begun to know the whip as yet. There were many places yet to be whipped, and she must learn to accept and enjoy it, there if she were to become a woman. She must also learn to wield the whip herself and derive arousal from its use upon another female, for females loved to whip or be whipped. Either way was pleasant. Most of all, like rope and chain and lesbianism, whips were part of being a girl. Girls required the whip simply because t,hey were girls.

It was needed, the same as air or food or water, and needed regularly.

And of course, Pamela had learned about rings and their mystifying gratification. Where having rings put through various and sundry body parts might seem to the uninitiated as a punishment, or torture, they were in fact a joy! The sharp hurt as a girl was pierced was wee worth the price for the beautiful symbolism and excitement they returned ten-fold. The unique and modern locking pins in the nipples were of course not needed, since the nipples already held rings. Yet, a girl felt a sense of pride that those punishing items had been added even though they nearly ruined the nipples. It made a girl feel like a real girl!

Yet, all of these things were elementary during the first two months. The other girls, who had been there longer, had told Pamela and Donna what they could expect during their remaining term, and the two loved ones had talked about it in bed many times, Strangely, they were not apprehensive, though some of the things would hurt very, very much. It was, of course, due to Avondale. The punishments, no matter how terrible, were given with a love and a purpose, rather than brutality and anger. Pamela and Donna knew this, and it made it very different indeed. No matter how intense the hurt, no matter how many screams and tears, they knew that it was for their own good in the long run if they wished to be true young ladies.

All things had been done before, and accepted by their past sisters. It was part of being a girl. The true philosophy of Avondale had begun to appear.

Girls were not punished here for being truants, or shoplifters, or bad girls. They were punished be- cause they were girls. They needed to accept this openly and completely first, then they in turn could begin to find arousal themselves in involving themselves in punishment of other girls. Pamela and Donna walked nicely down this trail.

"Hi, Pamela," said Sabrina. "Your day, is it?"

Jan had brought Pamela to the nurse's lab shortly after lunch, and had taken Donna to the pool for a nude swim. Pamela and Donna had begun t.o be separated occasionally now by design. Some things would be done together, some things not, It was up to Jan, of course, and she thought it prudent that they not share everything all the time. It was good that they thought of each other when apart and wondered what the other was experiencing.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, so Jan was not being cruel

"Hello, Sabrina. Jan brought me. Swimming with Donna, she is. Geez, I miss that. girl when we're apart. I can just see Jan all stretched out on the diving board with my Donna eating her puss.

Oh, well, You look nice in pink!"

Sabrina laughed. She was sitting in a chair with her legs slightly apart, her mini-nurse's skirt far too short to cover the strip of pink underpants be- tween her thighs. That was why every girl liked her so much. She didn't spread her legs purposely or consciously. Yet she didn't worry about silly legs- together modesty. She just sat naturally and comfortably with legs slightly apart. If her panties showed, they showed, that's all.

"I like pink pants, hon. Mind?"

"No. It's very feminine, y'know. I might as well tell you that I'd like to get into your pants,

Sabrina."

"Really?" teased Sabrina. "Well, maybe some- day, darling. But what would my children think?"

"Oh, Sabrina. You're a right corker, you are."

Both girls laughed.

"Come sit on my lap, Pam, and I'll tell you what's on the docket."

Pamela flounced onto her lap. Sabrina's perfume smelled heavenly, and Pamela put her arms around her neck. Sabrina put her hands on Pamela's breasts and fingered her nipple-rings, causing

Pamela to steal a brief but nice kiss upon Sabrina's mouth.

"Hey. We're ten years apart in age," teased

Sabrina. "I'm twenty-seven."

"I like older women," laughed Pamela.

"Well, enough for now. Got things to do to you, you know."

"Like what?"

"First off, a super sudsy enema, t.hen I'm going to torture you."

"Oh, i.s that all Thought it was something special!" said Pamela. Yet her flippancy could not; hide her apprehension. Phase two was beginning!

Again, Pamela's mind found it hard to accept the perfectly normal manner in which Sabrina dis- cussed what she was going to do to her. In a way, such normal and matter-of-fact words were frightening considering what they meant, especially from so sweet and pretty a nurse as Sabrina, wife and mother of kids! Yet, because it did come from

Sabrina, it made it sound nice and totally accept- able. She knew that she wanted Sabrina to do those things to her.

"Okay, honey-pie, off my lap and onto the table, face down. New experience coming up for you."

Pamela lay propped up on her elbows and felt Sabrina peel her panties down and off. It made her tingly again. Her admiration for Sabrina grew when the nurse didn't throw her panties some- where. She lay them carefully and spread out nicely on the chair. Pamela held out her wrists and ankles to be tied to the four corner bolts of the table. Sabrina pulled the cords tightly into her flesh. It was a matter of acclimation again, and

Pamela was impressed by Avondale's well thought out training. If they had tied her like this during the first week it would have been unbearable, but they had tied her gently, though firmly, at first.

Then, as time went by, the ropes had become tighter and tighter and now she did not mind that

Sabrina had pulled them deep into her wrists and ankles. In fact, she was pleased to be tied like this.

Way a girl should be tied, she knew. She realized that if Sabrina were somehow bound somewhere, she would expect to be tied in the same manner. It was a sisterhood that she and Sabrina shared.

Sabrina removed her blouse, for it was rather warm in the room. Her breasts were magnificent, beautifully nippled. But they also bore three whip stripes. Her back bore a half-dozen more.

"Crikey, Sabrina! Who whipped you darling?

You're staff, not slave!"

Sabrina laughed. "Oh, those? No big deal. Have a girlfriend in town. Play checkers with her once in a while. Losing girl gets six on the back and three on the tits. Last night I lost, as you can see. Shush now, here it comes."

The enema nozzle and tube disappeared up into Pamela's anus, and Sabrina gave her a playful slap on one bottom cheek before opening the valve. The warm soap solution poured into Pamela, and her mouth simply opened in a large round O at the sensation of it. If, was her first such experience and she couldn't quite believe the weird feel of it! As the solution continued to empty into her she could feel her stomach bulging, and she began to squirm wildly on the table.'

"Geez! Wow! Oh, please that's enough. I'm bursting! "

"Shush, darling. Still another quart to go."

Pamela screamed. But she took the quart. Her skin shone with a thin sheen of perspiration. She was kept tied for five minutes, which by the way, was the longest five minutes of her life.

Later Pamela wondered about the enema. It wasn't really torture. What was the reason for it?

But she knew full well. It was merely to let her know what one girl could do to another, and to let her know the degradation of having another girl put that awful thing up her bottom! When one thought about it, there was no other orifice in her body that was so intensely personal and sacred. To have another female stand behind her and calmly force a tube in there was very soul-searching! She had gotten the message.

Pamela had been reversed on the table, bound once again, and awaited Sabrina's next move, staring up at the ceiling. Sabrina put her hands on Pamela's breasts and played with them nicely while she spoke.

"I'm going to hurt you now, darling, but I'm sure you know that your punishments from now on will be more severe. Girls need to be hurt for committing little crimes as you did. Can't ever have you doing things like that again, can we?"

"No, Sabrina. I'm sure sorry I stole. I'm sure I'll never do anything like that again for positive! And … I know I should be punished."

"There's another reason you should be hurt, you know," said Sabrina. "I think you've been here long enough to know what it, is. Tell me."

"Because I'm a girl, and girls should be hurt?"

"Yep. But why?"

"Just for being girls, I guess," said Pamela,

"and of course to give pleasure to the person who is hurting them, right?"

"Bravo, pussycat. Right on the button. You are coming along nicely, you know."

"Thanks, Sabrina," smiled Pamela.

"From now on you and Donna will visit me once a week, and I'll torture you. I have some lovely ways."

"Can Donna and I be tortured together, or must you do us on different days?"

"Really love that fluff, don't you, Pain? Well, if you're a good kitten, I'll think about it."

"Thanks, Sabrina. You're sweet!"

"Don't mention it, hon. Now, 'bout time to start in on you. I think it would serve a purpose if you asked me to torture you. Rather psychological and all that."

"Torture me, Sabrina, for being bad and for being a girl," said Pamela.

The two wires had been plugged in under the table. Sabrina pulled Pamela's locking pins part- way out of her nipples and fastened the wires to the two exposed ends. She then pushed the locking pins back in as far as they would go. She flipped a switch underneath the table and the air hummed.

Pamela's pink nipples turned red and sprang into full erection, and her screams resounded off the walls. Sabrina went back to her chair and began to read the latest issue of Playboy, only glancing occasionally at the twisting, writhing girl. It was three minutes before she turned off the current. Pamela lay limp and soaked with sweat.

"Really hurts the nipples, doesn't it?" Sabrina said as she used a towel to wipe off Pamela's forehead. Pamela could not answer. She was still trying to catch her breath. Sabrina removed the wires and pushed the locking pins back into their sockets in the rings.

"Going to show you something now, kitten. A girl can be hurt and have fun at. the same time," said Sabrina. "Had this done to me when I was only fourteen. Bunch of rowdy girls in my old neighborhood dragged me into a garage one day, pulled my pants off, and tried it on me. Made a. woman out of me in a hurry. I was ever so mad… told my mother about it and she didn't believe my story!"

Sabrina used her fingers on Pamela's clit until it responded and swelled. It wasn't a sexual thing at all that, Sabrina did. She simply needed an erect clit on Pamela to attach one of the wires to with a metal clamp.

The humming began again, and Pamela yowled and arched her back. The hurt was terrible. Yet it was different, and Pamela could tell the difference.

Despite the pain, or maybe because of it, at her clitoris, she felt herself soaring to intense sexual heights. IC Cook only fifteen seconds for Pamela to squeal in orgasm for the first time. It was only the beginning.

Pamela had no idea how long the current shot into her clit. It seemed like hours. The room was blasted by her screams, but the screams were not all alike at the source. Some were from pain, some were from orgasm, and they often were mixed and jumbled together. She was not even aware of Sabrina removing the wire. She felt completely wiped out sexually.

Sabrina helped her up off the table, for she was wobbly.

"Good pussycat, Pam! Turned me on, you did. You're wonderful to torture. Know how many times you came? I counted. Sixteen times. In three minutes. About average. Get your pants on, now,Pam, and go run find your darling Donna. See you next week, I'll have something exciting and it'll hurt lots."

"Thanks heaps," said Pamela. But she smiled at Sabrina. Girl games!

That same week the whippings changed, as expected. Kathy and Heather had come for Pamela one sunny afternoon, and bounced into the room with the vigor so natural to teenage girls. That was what was so exciting about being taken to the whipping suite. A girl never knew when! It could happen anytime, morning, noon or evening, and it could happen three days in a row or not for several days. It was whenever a mistress sent a pair of slaves to fetch another girl. Since a girl didn't know when to expect it, it became very exciting.

She didn't have time to contemplate about it as she would if it had been scheduled!

"You're the lucky one, Pam!" said Heather, turning Pamela around for wrist tying. Donna had mixed emotions, half being relief at not being the one, and yet half frustrated because she knew hers was yet to come. Better to get it over with.

There was no denying that the whip produced many strange emotions, and there was no denying that each girl at Avondale knew she required the whip often. But it hurt. It had hurt since the first girl in history had been whipped, and it would hurt until the last girl. Yet, that was the reason for the whip. Whipping would serve no purpose if it didn't hurt a girl.

Pamela smiled at Donna as her elbows were drawn together and bound.

"You'll have to excuse me for a while, girl-wife.

'Pears like it's yowling time for me. Be back soon.

Have the rubbing lotion ready, will you, luv! By the way, darling, we're almost out of panties and stockings. There's a bunch in the hamper need washing. Will you be a dear while I'm gone and wash 'em out, as well as Jan's? Hers are over there on top the dresser, but for Pete's sake, don't get ours mixed up with hers. She was furious last time!"

Donna gave Pamela a kiss. "Bye, angel. I'll wash the things out, and give you a super rub on your whip marks when you come back."

Pamela sighed, very much in love. Even whip- pings were acceptable when one had someone like Donna to come home to! Heather and Kathy snapped leads onto her nipple-rings and led her out. Donna turned to hand-washing the lingerie in the basin, and decided to wash their things first.

Donna had always liked the idea of pooling all of hers and Pam's stockings and panties and things, each wearing the other's without regard. It was total togetherness of two girls, and strangely, very sexy.

Jan awaited Pamela in the whipping suite.

"Greetings, cunt. Off with everything, rings out!"

"Oh, oh," said Pamela. When Jan called her by that word she was in a very dominant mood. She'd get a real hiding today!

It was the first time that Pamela had been completely and delightfully naked for a whipping. On the frame to have her bottom whipped, she still wore stockings and garter belt. The frame had been pushed to one corner and Pamela looked up at the ceiling chains.

"Right you are, fluff," said Jan. "Time to start taking the whip like a woman, instead of spanked like a baby."

Spanked like a baby? snorted Pamela to herself.

She'd had her bottom laced with the cat at least ten times so far, lost two pair of good pants, and she calls it spanking?

Pamela's wrists were placed in the cuffs at the bottom of the dangling ceiling chains, wide apart, and her ankles were also cuffed into floor settings which were set apart just as wide as her hands. Jan flipped the wall switch and the ceiling chains rose, raising Pamela fully six inches from the floor.

Of all the positions a female could possibly be put, into, the total suspension in the X setting was by far the most beautiful. Her body is perfectly exposed, every last inch of her, and she is made even more alluring by the forced tautness of arms, legs and breasts. Even her nipples were forced into becoming sharply defined and pointed. One simply had to stand back and admire such a female in this delicious bondage, and Jan did just that.

Pamela had never gotten over the beauty of the whipping suite. It was such a meaningful thing to all the girls brought here. It was true that at Avondale girls were whipped. Sometimes awfully whipped. But at least it was done in the most beautiful environment possible for such a thing, and it helped mentally. Somehow the combination of whip and beauty seemed so natural and so pleas- ant. It would be awful to be whipped in a damp dungeon, thought Pamela. She had been strung up facing the large picture window, which because of the warm summer day, had been slid fully open.

Pamela could see the trees and the lawn, and smell the flowers.It was a perfectly lovely view from the second floor, and nearly gave a girl the feeling that she was outside. Far beyond the distant ivy- covered walls Pamela could hear and see the tops of cars speeding along the highway. Beyond that were hills. Pamela smiled to herself. If someone knew, and sat on the hillside with binoculars focused on this window right now, he or she would catch quite a show!

Kathy and Heather, since they had fetched Pamela, were of course rewarded with being allowed to watch. They sat in front of the window facing her, as most girls did who watched. After all, it was the best view of the girl being whipped. All her best parts were in front, and besides, one could enjoy the expressions of hurt on her face each time the Donna to come home to! Heather and Kathy snapped leads onto her nipple-rings and led her out. Donna turned to hand-washing the lingerie in the basin, and decided to wash their things first.

Donna had always liked the idea of pooling all of hers and Pam's stockings and panties and things, each wearing the other's without regard. It was total togetherness of two girls, and strangely, very sexy.

Jan awaited Pamela in the whipping suite.

"Greetings, cunt. Off with everything, rings out!"

"Oh, oh," said Pamela. When Jan called her by that word she was in a very dominant mood. She'd get a real hiding today!

It was the first time that Pamela had been completely and delightfully naked for a whipping. On the frame to have her bottom whipped, she still wore stockings and garter belt. The frame had been pushed to one corner and Pamela looked up at the ceiling chains.

"Right you are, fluff," said Jan. "Time to start, taking the whip like a woman, instead of spanked like a baby."

Spanked like a baby? snorted Pamela to herself.

She'd had her bottom laced with the cat at least ten times so far, lost two pair of good pants, and she calls it spanking?

Pamela's wrists were placed in the cuffs at the bottom of the dangling ceiling chains, wide apart, and her ankles were also cuffed into floor settings which were set apart, just as wide as her hands. Jan flipped the wall switch and the ceiling chains rose, raising Pamela fully six inches from the floor.

Of all the positions a female could possibly he put into, t.he total suspension in the X setting was

by far the most beautiful. Her body is perfectly exposed, every last inch of her, and she is made even more alluring by the forced tautness of arms, legs and breasts. Even her nipples were forced into becoming sharply defined and pointed. One simply had to stand back and admire such a female in this delicious bondage, and Jan did just that.

Pamela had never gotten over the beauty of the whipping suite. It was such a meaningful thing to all the girls brought here. It was true that at Avondale girls were whipped. Sometimes awfully whipped. But at least it was done in the most beautiful environment possible for such a thing, and it helped mentally. Somehow the combination of whip and beauty seemed so natural and so pleas- ant. It would be awful to be whipped in a damp dungeon, thought Pamela. She had been strung up facing the large picture window, which because of the warm summer day, had been slid fully open.

Pamela could see the trees and the lawn, and smell the flowers. It was a perfectly lovely view from the second floor, and nearly gave a girl the feeling that she was outside. Far beyond the distant ivy- covered walls Pamela could hear and see the tops of cars speeding along the highway. Beyond that were hills. Pamela smiled to herself. If someone knew, and sat on the hillside with binoculars focused on this window right now, he or she would catch quite a show!

Kathy and Heather, since they had fetched Pamela, were of course rewarded with being allowed to watch. They sat in front of the window facing her, as most girls did who watched. After all, it was the best view of the girl being whipped. All her best parts were in front, and besides, one could enjoy the expressions of hurt on her face each time the whip fell. Not only that, but if the whipped young lady happened to get turned on, one had a nice view of a dripping pussy.

On t,he wall hung three whips, and Jan removed them to show Pamela.

"You're familiar with t,his one of course," she said, holding up the cat. "Or I should say, your ass is familiar with it! Does a nice job, doesn't it?"

"Yes, mistress Jan. Can't sit for a day or two."

"This one is just a good old-fashioned girl whip, or horse-whip, or whatever. Find 'em in barns, dungeons, anywhere. Had whips like this since time began. Used to whip a girl's back mostly, while the cat is used on bottoms. Now this one is special,"Jan said, holding up the third one.

It was about two feet long, and looked like a rubber-type bathtub hose of about a half-inch diameter, and hollow. In actuality, it was exactly that.

"This is used on a girl's tits and pussy, Pamela.

Hurts something terrible, but doesn't leave cuts or welts like a regular whip. You see, we've special- ized these days! Special whips for special places.

You're much luckier than girls in the old days who had to be satisfied with just one. Want a puff on my cigarette before I mark up that pretty back?"

Most of the girls smoked, but Pamela and Donna had only started two weeks ago.

"Yes, please, thank you mistress." Jan let her have several puffs.

The first stroke of the leather lash made Pamela jerk in her chains. A streak of fire burned along her back and brought a nice gasp from her lips. Dan didn't make a production out of it. The whip just raised and struck, time after time, in perfect pat- terns across the silken bare back. Pamela sang a song of pain very clearly.

It is funny how even during the hurt of the lashes a girl can think clearly about many things, and how certain emotions and feelings seem to be made clearer. In Pamela's mind, one thought be- came very clear.

I'm actually, really, truly, honestly being whipped like a woman! Like you see in the movies!

Me, Pamela McNee!

It wasn't that it hurt any more than the whip- pings she'd taken on her bottom. It was just… different. It was more mature. Even Iittle girls are punished on their bottoms, but the back… with a leather whip… very, very adult. Thus despite the searing pain, Pamela felt a sense of pride. She felt grown up suddenly, as if she had just had her twenty-first birthday! She was given a dozen.

Jan used a damp towel to wipe away two trickles of blood which had run down almost to the deep valley at her bottom cheeks. Kathy and Heather walked around to Pamela's back so they could see the lovely damage.

"Ooh, Pam, your whip marks are simply smashing!" said Heather.

"How nice," said Pamela caustically. "They hurt like hell, too."

Jan whisked the rubber length back and forth and it made a frightening sound.

"Geez," gasped Pamela.

"We call it the Angel's Kiss," said Jan. "Ready to really feel like a female? You'll know you're a girl when I'm done with your tits!"

"I know I'm a girl already," said Pamela. "Don't have to convince me… but, I'm ready."

Pamela never felt anything so traumatic in her life as when the Angel's Kiss had smacked into her breasts. "Smacked" was the correct word. The multi-thonged cat made a loud slashing sound. The leather whip made a cracking sound. But the Angel's Kiss made a smacking sound. It was, of course, due to where it was used. A girl's bottom, by its design, makes its own unique sound when whipped. A girl's back, much firmer, made another. A girl's breasts were not firm… they were curvy and soft. They did not crack when hit. They "smacked."

It had hurt so much, and had been such a sur- prise, that Pamela had not even cried out. Her head swung and her hair whisked and her nostrils flared.

The following strokes were not denied, however, and brought a magnificent array of moans and screams. The Angel's Kiss was not applied quickly to a girl. Each stroke was a separate punishment, applied with a lengthy pause in between to allow the girl the full pain of each blow. Jan applied each stroke with calmness, but yet with stunning force.

Pamela's breasts bounced wildly at each blow, and only when they had returned to their quiet repose did the next stroke come.

Jan aimed, of course, for the nipples each time. It wasn't that she was particularly sadistic. That's simply the way one whips a girl's breasts.

Pamela's screams were noticeably more shrill when the whining stroke did catch one or both of her nipples. She shook her head in stunned admira- tion over the seemingly endless amount of punishment that a female nipple could take. Nipples, created to dispense milk, were supposedly things of intimate sensual softness and tender design. Yet over the centuries, probably no other feminine part had been so punished, abused, and tortured, and still remained intact and sensitive. It was one of the strange mysteries of females. Pamela thought about her own. First, pierced like a sow's ear and violated with a ring. Then actually cored down the middle by another metal device, the locking pin.

Then subjected to electric current by Sabrina. Now whipped by a terrible rubber lash by Jan. Yet t,here they were, still there, and delightfully erect in a false passion produced by hurt!

Pamela had drifted off into these thoughts and had not heard Jan dialing the wall phone.

"Hello, Mrs. McNee? This is Jan Nelson… Oh, she's doing fine. Wonderful girl Matter of fact, I'm calling from our extension in the whipping suite.

Pam is getting her first real whipping right now … no… all over her… everywhere, First of many to come. She's getting to be a proper young woman, so she should begin t.o be whipped like one, don't you agree? Oh, good… I'm glad you feel that way, too. Haven't had time to write you this week, so I thought you'd like a special treat instead. You've heard the sound of a whip on a girl in movies and such… sure… so I won't bore you with that, but I'm whipping her breasts for the first time with a rubber thing we-use… yes… and I thought you might like to hear it being applied to her tits… yes, of course she yells. I'll have one of the other girls hold the phone close to Pam's front so you can hear it very clearly, and of course, her screams, too. I'll probably be well involved with Pam, so I won't pick up the phone again… yes… just hang up when you've heard enough. Bye."

Marienne McNee heard the loud smacking sound followed by her daughter's yowl. And another, and another, and another. Each moan and cry was different, but they. definitely were Pamela's!

"Owwwwww, Geez, my nipples! Yow! Whoooo- eeee! Ohhhhh!" It was enough for Marienne McNee. She wiped her brow. Then dialed Lila Carson. They made arrangements t.o get together on Saturday.

Pamela hung sweating. She hurt, but she had not wept. She finally mustered up enough courage to look down at what she thought would be ravaged breasts. They were not. They were red, but not streaked or welted, and the nipples, despite

Pamela's conviction that they were certainly lying on the floor somewhere, were still nicely in place.

Now that the burning hurt was over, Pamela once again felt a sense of peculiar pride in herself.

She had been breast-whipped like thousands of others, and like the others, found that she was still alive and not too badly hurt. More than ever now, she felt like a real woman! Yes, thought Pamela, I can accept it again and I know that I shall have to accept it again as long as I remain a female. It hadn't been too awfully bad at that, and I guess as long as a female has breasts she should expect to be whipped there.

Yet, her whipping was not over. The Angel's Kiss whined up between her legs and nestled into her sex. She whinnied like a horse. Another new emotion swept over her. It wasn't the searing pain, it was being tied so spread and open so that her most intimate place was totally helpless to prevent its punishment. Pamela shrieked at the second stroke and wanted to scream out that girls shouldn't be whipped there. There should be one sacred and inviolate place that would be free from the kiss of a whip. But she knew that girls had no such spot free from punishment. That was why girls were spread and tied like she was. But why a female whipping her there! As a female, Jan must know how it hurts a girl to be whipped there. The answer was again elementary to Pamela… that's exactly why a girl should be entrusted with the task of whipping another there. Because she knew the limits of the recipient at that place, and she knew the hurt!

Pamela took five strokes within her sex, the rubber rod splitting apart her lips at each strike, and curling up within her cleft behind to kiss briefly the puckered orifice which lay there. The Angel's Kiss had taken a few curly bits of fur from Pamela's patch.

Pamela hurt all over, yet she was still a girl, and had accepted it nicely. Also, because she was a girl, she had been aroused.

Many things contributed to Pamela's sexual condition. Things which thousands of women and girls had found before her. The pure ultimate nakedness of her spread suspension. The masochistic agony of the lashes. Her utter helplessness. The violation of her intimate parts by the whip. The knowledge that another female was doing it to her. But most of all, in Pamela's case, it was having Heather and Kathy sitting there taking in all of her nudity, her personal agony, her cries, her torture. She knew now why other girls were made to watch. It intensified a girl's whipping terribly, and made it totally sexual to know that other girls were receiving sexual delight from her punishment! It was like having girls watch when you were raped. All of these things contributed to Pamela's wetness and rising heat.

Jan was most aware of this. The pussy lashes had been the frosting on the cake, naturally. That was why she had saved Pamela's behind for last.

Pamela was nearly there!

The cat swished and flattened its thongs around Pamela's cheeks. Pamela ignored the hurt. It didn't matter now. She knew she was almost at Utopia, and the stinging cat;lashes merely intensified it. She looked at Heather and Kathy and moaned, her face flushed. They were still both looking at her whipping, but Heather had her arm around Kathy and was holding a breast. Kathy had her hand down inside Heather's blue panties and Pamela could hear the squishing noise, The utter knowledge that two girls were totally turned on because of her was the breaking point! She felt it coming.

"Geez… mistress… Jan… don't… stop.'.. whipping… my ass… do it… harder… whip me… hard, Ohhh God…!"

How many thousands of girls and women have climaxed under the whip will never be known. But Pamela added another name to the list. In fact, Pamela had fainted.

It wasn't always two other girls who came to take a girl to the whipping suite. Sometimes it was another girl and the recipient's own roommate It made it a surprise and terribly exciting. A few days later Pamela had been appointed by Jan, along with Maryl, to bring Donna for her first real whipping. Pamela was ecstatic because Donna turned her on so. Pamela's parts were moist just from binding Donna's elbows together, They had never tied each other as yet, not watched each other really whipped, except of course at the frame on the bottom. To think that she was actually going to get to watch Donna receive what she had taken a few days earlier!

Pamela couldn't pull Donna along fast enough by her nose-ring lead, so anxious was she, and she made Donna squeak several times from rather cruel tugs which made a thin trickle of blood falI upon Donna's lip.

Pamela sat by the window with Maryl, a sensuous young thing, and by the time Jan was halfway through whipping Donna's breasts with the Angel's Kiss, two pairs of white panties had been peeled off and lay side by side on the floor. Maryl was not reserved by any means, and she was a girl- kisser. Some girls were really into kissing, and she was at Pamela's mouth very quickly. They fondled and they fingered, and they watched Donna writ,he under the breast whipping. And of course, they made each other come. Then they sat back to watch Donna reach Shangri-la. And she did.

Pamela had not really needed Maryl, although she was fun to play with. She would have come anyway, simply by watching her pretty "wife" lashed. It had changed Pamela completely within herself. She had climaxed under the whip and she knew now that she would do so again and again.

And she would climax when watching others whipped.

Miss Pamela McNee had reached an important level, as all Avondale girls eventually did. It was the unique and beautiful world of sexual masochism and sadism. Either philosophy and condition would please her from this day on. She could be excited from being hurt. She could be excited from watching another girl hurt. Only one area remained virginal to Miss Pamela McNee, age seven- teen. To receive pleasure from hurting another girl herself! It would come soon. Avondale made sure.

Donna was using the strap-on, and Pamela thrashed and squealed under her thrusts. Sandy and Ginny came bounding into the room.

"Oh, look, Gin, Pam's fucking her little wife.How sweet!"

"Hi, Sandy and Ginny," said Pamela.

"Ooooh, she takes every inch, doesn't she!" exclaimed Sandy. "She's a smashing bit, isn't: she … look how she has her legs wrapped around you.Must be nice to be in love. Gin and I may get married too, someday."

"Sure she takes it all," said Pamela. "She's just a beautiful thing, she is! What's up?"

"Wanna play girl-tie?"

"Sure! Just let me finish her off first."

All of the girls played "girl-tie." It was played in a room in the basement. The room had been called the "Pink Room" in the old days because of its soft pink pastel walls and carpeting designed to create a total feminine decor. The Pink Room had been used for more serious bondage and punishments during the more advanced training of young ladies.

It was, in effect, a warm lovely dungeon of sorts without the drawbacks of stone and granite. The room had contained dozens of devices designed to draw the ultimate screams of girls. During the early twenties the Pink Room was shorn of its things, the powers of Avondale having decided that such sophisticated punishments should be conducted in the nurse's lab, by a nurse well trained in both the intricacies of hurting young ladies and in the medical knowledge of just what they could accept without lasting damage.

Most of the hooks, rings, bars, posts and other tying items had been left, however, and modern trainees found the Pink Room perfect for playing girl games. "Girl-tie" had been played for decades.

It was fun, and it could be played by any number of girls from two on up. The rules were simple. Each girl had one turn at tying any other girl of her choice in any manner she desired. When each had had her turn, the girls decided which one had done the most exciting or unusual or painful bondage idea. Each girl thus tried to think of something unique, for there was an incentive to win the game.

The winner could choose any one of the other contestants, and the chosen girl had to eat her dinner that night, in the dining room with her hands tied behind her. Obviously the other girls at dinner enjoyed the spectacle of the poor creature thrusting her messy face into mashed potatoes and soup!

All in all, it was lots of fun.

Ginny's idea was simply elegant, and she had taken the last turn, using Donna as her subject.

The girls had removed their rings before coming downstairs, for the rules of the game required that.

Five rings in a girl made too many easy places to tie her by, and thwarted original ideas. Girls must be naturally nude and ringless.

Pamela had tied Sandy onto a wooden sawhorse, and despite the discomforting hurt to the girl's pussy, it was not really a new idea. Donna had strung Ginny up by one thumb and one big toe from the ceiling and felt that her idea might possibly have a chance of winning. But it was agreed in the end that Ginny's subjection of Donna was the best idea.

Ginny had tied Donna's hands behind her and had then tied a ceiling rope to the wrist rope. This was pulled upwards raising Donna's arms up in back until she was painfully bent forward on her toss. Ginny had then tied cords between Donna's nipples and her big toes, right to right, left to left.

These cords were pulled taut until Donna's nipples were agonizingly stretched. It was a very clever idea, admitted particularly by Donna.

"Crikey," said Donna, "super idea, Gin! If I bend forward to ease the pulling of my nips, my arms go higher in back and hurt like heck. If I try and straighten up to keep my poor arms from breaking, my nips get pulled off, or at least get stretched to heaven knows! Cor! Hate to be left like this for a few hours. I think I'd run out of screams and walk away with the world's longest nipples to boot! I think you win, darling!"

The others had agreed.

"Well, Donna, since you were so nice, and made such a good subject, how would you like to eat dinner messy-face style tonight?" said Ginny.

"Love to. Just get me down! Cor!"

"How about a swim?" said Ginny to Pamela and Sandy. "We're already in our birthday suits."

"Great! Let's go," said Pamela.

"Hey, how 'bout me?" wailed Donna.

"Don't worry, punkin," laughed Ginny. "Nipples are amazing things, y'know. Besides, just think how super you'll look in London when you wear a T-shirt or tank top over three-inch nipples!

May have to cut little holes in your shirts for 'em. 'Sides, we'll be back in an hour. More or less."

"Oh, you bitches," wailed Donna. "Just you wait, Ginny! Pam darling, make her let me loose.I'll make love to you ten times in a row tonight!"

"Sorry, pussycat," laughed Pamela. "Long nipples are so very cute on a girl. Bye!"

Donna whisked her hair from side to side in anger and frustration.

"Oh, damn. Double and triple damn!" she whined. But Donna Carson wasn't really angry.

Girl games! A girl could expect anything

The others left. She was alone.

"Let's see, now… if I bend this way, maybe… ow!.. sorry about that, Miss Left Nipple. Well, let's try something else…"