MOTHER'S PET

BY SHARPERGIRL

I had been staying at Mme. Dulac's house for about 2 months. Her
lodgings included a comfortable upstairs room with en-suite
facilities, good French home cooking, and a highly desirable
location in the suburbs of Paris, all for a very affordable
price. My reason for being there was primarily to study business
and French language in the hope of getting a bi-lingual PA
appointment. My French was pretty lousy though, but I loved Paris
so much I just stayed there to complete the course and live a
little.

Mme. Dulac was a jolly woman, widowed or divorced (I could never
figure out which). She lived with her young teenage daughter
Carole. Carole was a very beautiful girl, pale alabaster
complexion and raven hair. Tall and slender she was always
dressed immaculately. She sometimes looked like a life-size
porcelain doll. Carole was not exactly friendly towards me. I got
the feeling she resented the fact that her mother took in a
lodger to make ends-meet. In all the time I had been there we had
never exchanged more than a few words, but she was always polite
if a little aloof.

One afternoon I wandered into the kitchen where I usually sat and
practised my French with Mme. Dulac. She would usually make cups
of wonderful hot chocolate and we'd sit there while I struggled
to figure out the grammar, she was very patient with me but we
often ended up giggling. "Oh Miss Suzanne you have much to
learn!" She would say. Her English was not much to write home
about either, but we got by and things were always jovial.

On this occasion though she was very agitated, her face was like
thunder, something was obviously wrong. When she saw me she took
my arm gently and shook her head. "Oh, Miss Suzanne, a very
terrible thing is happening. Carole is doing very bad things and
it is time for her to be hurted….err how is it, ah yes punished."
She ushered me over to the small table by the wall where we
usually sat for our drink. "You don't mind Suzanne we don't have
lesson and chocolat today. Please you will be watching Carole
getting her legs a whipping… yes please, it is more terrible for
her to have you watching, is it OK?" I was completely amazed by
what was being said. It took me a while to understand what was
going on. I just sat at my normal place and shrugged, "OK I
guess?".

The stout woman moved quickly. She took one of the plain wooden
chairs away from the table and stood it in the middle of the bare
concrete floor. She then went to a cupboard and brought out a
bunch of what looked like leather belts. She unravelled one and
stooped down onto the floor by the chair. I noticed the chair was
placed over a metal recess in the floor, a handgrip to lift up a
drain cover it looked like. There was a crossbar between the legs
of the chair. She fastened this to the handgrip by wrapping the
leather strap round a few times and then buckling it tightly. She
shoved the chair, it did not move from it's position. I began to
be interested in what I was about to witness. I had never seen
anyone whipped, but the idea of it had always thrilled me. As a
girl I had seen several of the old biblical epic movies where the
heroine would be whipped, or at least you would hear a woman
crying out and the sound of the lash. I started to get
butterflies thinking about it. Mme. Dulac went back to the
cupboard and came away with what was obviously the whip. I
learned later it was called a Martinet. It had a rigid leather
bound handle about a foot long, and from one end sprang four
braided leather tails. As she shook the tails they unravelled,
they were about 2 feet long, tapered and had small knots in the
end. "This one for traditionel punishment, my father use for me
and now I use for Carole" I nodded in acknowledgement, as she
left the kitchen, whip in hand. She went to the end of the
passage and I heard her calling Carole in a loud and angry voice.
Several times she called, and then I heard her start to climb the
stairs. I could not hear clearly, but there were a few exchanges
of words, Carole's shrill voice barely audible. Shortly Carole
and her mother entered the kitchen. It was clear that Carole had
not expected to see me there. She stood staring at me. She
blushed a little and looked away biting her bottom lip in
anxiety. Her mother stood over her with the whip and pointed to
the chair. Carole was immaculately turned out. Her black hair cut
into a neat bob above her slender shoulders was held just so by a
blue Alice band. She wore a powder blue sweater that clung to her
body, accentuating her pointed pubescent breasts, the nipples
very obvious although I could see the outline of a teenage
brassiere beneath. The sweater stopped at her thin waist and
there was a small gap of bare pale skin above the waistband of
her black pleated skirt. The skirt was very short, barely
reaching below the line of her pert buttocks. In all the time I
had known her she had always worn impossibly short skirts, yet
never had I seen her displaying anything she shouldn't. Below her
pale unblemished thighs and perfectly sculptured knees, her fine
calves were clad in white lace stockings, which disappeared into
black patent leather shoes. I don't know what it was that did it,
but somehow my butterflies turned into an intense feeling of
excitement. Maybe it was the fact that I'd noticed her nipples,
and her face was flushed with embarrassment, maybe I got a wrong
signal but I started to believe that she, this young prim girl
was intensely aroused in a sexual way. I could not think of
anything else, the arousal idea started to get to me and when I
shifted in my seat I realised that I had got very wet inside my
panties.

Carole's mother put the whip on the table right near me. The
supple leather tails hung off the edge. Light tan coloured at the
handle they darkened toward the twisted ends, which were almost
black. Obviously this instrument had been played many times. The
leather although old, gleamed, and had obviously been well soaped
after each use to keep it supple. I loved the smell of saddle
soap. While I studied the whip Carole was manhandled into the
chair and sat upright with her feet and knees together. She sat
with her arms hanging straight down from her shoulders following
the line of the chair-back with her hands resting beside the back
legs. Mme. Dulac picked up one of the remaining leather belts;
she passed it across Carole's lap and went round the back of the
chair. There she tightened it and fastened Carole to the chair at
her waist and also locked her arms by her side. I shifted in my
seat and the tight Levis I wore pressed into my tender parts,
which meant my panties were now working up in between my wet
pussy. I was very hot and my heart started to beat so hard I
could swear Carole and her mother would hear. Carole was now
having her shoes removed. Her mother stooped to undo the buckles
at each fragile ankle. The shoes were placed on the floor right
next to me. They looked so small next to my trainers. Mme. Dulac
took another belt and stooped again. This time she wrapped the
belt in a figure 8 around Carole's lace clad ankles leaving the
free end and the buckle end emerging from the between them. She
murmured to her daughter, I looked at Carole's face just as two
huge tears fell across her cheeks. She was breathing quite
heavily now. Here little breasts heaving urgently under the pale
blue sweater. Carole shifted her shoulders over to the right side
and shuffled her hips forward so her bottom was perched on the
edge of the seat. At the same time her mother lifted her feet up
by the strap and stretched her slender legs upward until her
ankles were at head height over her left shoulder and pressed
against he chair back. The strap was fastened tightly in place
around the top span of the chair back. Once her ankles were fixed
another belt was tightly wrapped around and buckled at knee
height, her legs now firmly strapped together.

It was a sight to behold. Carole was literally bent double and
strapped in place. Her bare legs were completely exposed, save
for the area under the knee strap, from the tops of her calf
length stockings all the way to her bottom. She was resting on
the base of her spine, and when she had shuffled forward her tiny
white cotton panties had been pulled in between her cheeks. The
angle at which her legs were fastened stretched her willowy
thighs and right between them her panties emerged again to
accommodate the bulge of her pussy, which protruded sharply
outward to ward me. With the slight twist induced by fastening
her legs over one shoulder I was now looking square on at
everything that girl would rather keep hidden. The panties were
thin white ribbed cotton and at the edge where her pussy was
contained I could see the wisps of lace trim. It was easy to see
the split of her peach under the tight material. I strained to
see if she was showing any pubic hair, but I could not see any.
Girls her age sometimes had a full bush, sometimes baby bare, or
maybe she was shaving already? I was on the edge of my seat now.
Conscious that Carole was glaring at me, and blushing even more
now that I could plainly see under her skirt and was taking in
the view with some relish. One thing was becoming clear to me. If
the whip was applied not only to her legs, but also along her
thighs to her smooth and well presented bottom, it would be
impossible to avoid having the tails whip across that neat white
mound. The thought excited me so much I shifted position again
only this time it set my nether regions throbbing in the most
unbearable way. I was desperate to go and relieve myself
manually.

Mme. Dulac walked over and picked up the whip. She turned and
swung it through the air from over her shoulder. The tails
shrieked as they cut through the air. Carole cringed at the
noise. She was sobbing quietly now, a constant stream of tears
dripping on to her sweater. "She is very bad this girl, she is
older girl and must be responsible for young neighbour to see her
safe home from class. But Carole is wanting to walk with boy
friend and not walk with young neighbour girl…" Mme. Dulac's
voice registered her extreme displeasure at her daughter's
behaviour, personally, I was on Carole's side up to this point.
It was perfectly understandable to me that a girl of Carole's age
would want to start taking an interest in the opposite sex. "And
when young girl follow Carole and boy, what is 'appening? Well,
they push the little girl down the bank and almost into canal.
Poor girl is bruised, cover in filth and nearly fall in and
drown!" Oh, well now maybe I can see Carole's mother's side now.
Carole could not understand her mother as she had very little
English, but she realised I was being told about her wrongdoings
and she stared at her chest in shame. "And she will not say the
name of the boy or what they were doing alone together, he is
also bad to help push the little girl!". Wow, so our little
goodie two shoes Carole has been a real little bitch and she
won't tell on her boyfriend. I guess she deserves what she gets
then. "Now all neighbours get to hear Carole being whipped, hope
screaming is not too loud for you Miss Suzanne."

Carole's mother swung the whip with all her might and the
screeching tails slashed across Carole's slender thighs close to
her knee joints. Carole had closed her eyes and screamed even
before impact. Her shrill voice was piercing, and the sharp crack
of the leather biting into her soft pale skin made me jump. The
initial squeal was followed by a horrible grating noise from the
back of Carole's throat, which she made between sharp panting
breaths. Wow! Again, even harder, the tails lashed a little
further along Carole's wriggling thighs, she sounded like a puppy
whose tail had been stood on. The dreadful braying like a donkey
followed, her legs jiggled as she tried to shake the pain away,
thigh muscles twitching involuntarily. Jeez! Three in quick
succession, her pale skin now turning scarlet with deep crimson
welts. The girl flexed every muscle in her body and made an awful
din, her face bright red, eyes screwed up and her beautiful mouth
wide open and gasping. The lashes came hard and fast working
inexorably along her thighs towards her exposed buttocks. It
looked as if there was electricity being passed through her legs
as she struggled desperately against her leather bonds. After
maybe fifteen lashes the red angry marks had reached the point
where the thighs join the buttocks. Her mother dropped her whip
arm and massaged her shoulder while Carole continued to squeal
protests at her. Soon Mme. Dulac was squaring- up to whip
Carole's bottom. I leaned forward involuntarily to scrutinise the
scene. Carole's thigh muscles twitched spasmodically, each time
squeezing her neat little pussy between them. Suddenly the
whiptails slashed across her buttocks. Carole's bleating suddenly
raised to another piercing squeal; the whip's four scorching
tails had scoured a blazing line across the left buttock and on
to the right. Although the thin cotton of her panties hid the
details, her pussy must have been stinging something awful. Again
and again and again, Carole jerked and thrashed her head and
pleaded as the whip criss-crossed her upturned backside. Then a
particularly nasty set of three lashes aimed vertically down the
line of her bound thighs. The tips of the whip's tails cutting
between them with the brunt if the force being taken by the
visibly swelling pussy mound. Her buttocks now glowed the same
colours as her thighs, bright red skin with a dense lattice of
rigid purple welts. Carole's howls were getting more desperate
and the terrible pain caused the cries to be stifled in the back
of her throat as if she were being strangled somehow. Her mother
was asking her what she'd been doing with the boy, and who he
was, punctuating each word with a hard swipe, left, right,
vertical, sharp cracks of the warm supple leather in hot punished
flesh. The pain had built up to an unbearable level and Carole
took a huge breath, put her head back and just screeeeeeeamed at
the top of her lungs. The whipping stopped, Mme. Dulac waited for
the long scream to subside, Carole looked at her mother gasping
and moaning pleading with her that she had been whipped enough.
Her mother shook her head and pointed at her daughter's backside.
I looked; Carole's pussy had discharged into the cotton briefs. A
reaction to the terrible throbbing and stinging in her nether
regions. Sticky fluid ran freely down between her buttocks
trickled on to the hem of her skirt and on to the floor. Mme.
Dulac placed the whip on the table in front of me. The tails were
wet and shiny. She went back over to her daughter and slipped her
hands under Carole's hips and shuffled the white panties down
over her buttocks and pushed them out of the way along her thighs
up to the strap at her knees. I stared wide-eyed at Carole's
totally bare slit. The mound was covered in purple blisters where
the whip's tails had made contact. The slit was held closed by
the bound thighs, but I could see the bulging labia inside trying
to push their way out. The whole area glistened with the slimy
discharge. Her pussy mound, now free of the constraints of her
panties was protruding markedly from between her legs and as I
watched I swear it started to open. "Now Miss Suzanne I make
Carole tell me about boy, sorry for horrible sight and loud
noises!" Carole was sobbing and mumbling and shaking with rage
pain and anticipation. Mme. Dulac went back to the cupboard and
brought out a long thin riding whip. Carole saw it and started to
shriek. Her mother simply asked the same questions of her
daughter. When no answer came she walked over and placed the tip
of the shining leather clad crop right across Carole's blistered
pussy, the pressed it in to the tortured mound so that it cut
across the line of her slit and made contact with her buttocks on
either side. She asked the question again, Carole stared
wide-eyed gasping and shaking her head, a high pitched swish and
a gunshot crack! I'd never heard a scream like it, Carole was
delirious, screeching and drooling from the mouth. Her mother
stood with the whip pressed back into the same spot, when the
noise died down a little, same question. Carole's swelling pussy
mound was forcing its way out from between the tightly closed
thighs. The terrible cut with the riding whip had increased the
swelling considerably. She was now showing her inner lips, fresh
pink tissue looking terribly vulnerable as the hard polished whip
pressed down on it. Carole's screams were sounding hoarse as her
normally shrill delicate voice started to give out. Her mother
waited patiently for her daughter to regain control keeping the
whip firmly pressed in place on the red and oozing gash. Then,
quietly she asked Carole again, who was this boy and what had
they been up to? Carole hesitated, looked pleadingly through
floods of tears. Not good enough, the whip flew again, crack!
Crack! CRACK! Hard, harder, harder still. Carole's tender cunt
took three direct hits. The look of disbelief, rage and agony on
the poor girl's face was beyond anything I'd seen, she went
purple in the face and I thought she would feint. Her squealing
came in silent gasps, her voice not able to register the almighty
force with which air was being expelled from her heaving lungs.
Her whole body shook uncontrollably against the bonds. As she
fought against the white hot pain in her most sensitive spot, her
mother stood stoically with the whip's supple end pressed into
place on the horribly blackened swollen mound protruding from her
thighs. When the question came again Carole responded,
immediately stammering an unintelligible sentence. Her mother
stood for a moment to consider what her daughter had told her.
She removed the whip's end from her daughter's backside and put
it on the table. Carole's relief was obvious as she let out a
long moan. Unfortunately she relaxed a little too much because
she also let out a spurting jet of urine. She looked away in
shame as her mother tut tutted. Mme Dulac set about unfastening
the girl's ankles from the chair back. She muttered some
instructions to Carole, who was still contributing to a yellow
puddle on the floor. Carole shuffled a little more upright in her
bonds and her mother eased her legs back down and eventually she
was in a sitting position with her feet on the wet floor. Mme
Dulac was not about to release her daughter though, to my
amazement she fastened Carole's ankles to the chair leg.

Carole's discomfort was audible. Tied tightly to a wooden chair
sitting on her swollen whipped pussy and thighs must have been
excruciating. Her mother turned to me, "So this terrible girl is
telling me what I already know. Boy is allowed to finger teets
and inside panty! She will be telling his name soon!" I could not
believe Carole, the little minx, was still holding out… who was
this guy? The still furious woman went back to her sobbing
wailing daughter and leaned over her from the back of the chair.
In a flash she had pulled the front Carole's fine knitted blue
sweater up over her head and left it bunched behind her neck.
Carole's damp pink-flushed belly and chest were now exposed. A
thin lace trimmed plaid patterned brassiere covered her tiny
breasts. Her chest heaved in dreadful anticipation. I could see
her stiff hard nipples pushing against the plaid material. The
brassiere was flipped up out of the way leaving the jiggling
breast-buds completely bare. Carole's tears now splashed onto the
newly exposed nipples. One sensitive spot had been tortured and
now, it seemed inevitable that the stiff pink "teets" would get
similar treatment.

Carole's mother went over to a kitchen drawer, rummaged inside it
and took out a large flat hardwood spatula. As she walked toward
her weeping daughter she slapped it hard onto the palm of her own
hand. Carole's arms were still strapped down by her waist strap.
She cried, "non! Non Mamman!" And leaned forward in her chair
protecting the bare tender buds from the inevitable beating her
mother had planned. Mme. Dulac sighed, put down the spatula and
picked up yet another leather belt, she stood behind the still
cowering girl and slipped the strap around her front and drew
both ends up, lifting Carole's upper body back into the upright
position. She fastened the belt very tightly behind the chair
back. Carole sobbed bitterly, not only was she now unable to
protect her nipples, but the strap had been passed under them and
squeezed her small breasts so tightly that the pink tips were
pushed up and outward. I could see they were extremely hard and
erect, it looked like they might burst. The first slap was
deafening, the sound ringing around the bare kitchen. This was
followed by the terrible grating noise at the back of Carole's
throat. The beating concentrated on the squealing girl's right
breast, the hard flat spatula swung at arm's length with a
vicious wrist flick as it slapped onto the sensitive pink bud.
There were no questions being asked, this was just pure brutal
punishment for being a slut with that boy. The nipple blackened
and the soft white flesh surrounding it now a dozen hues of
crimson and purple Mme. Dulac turned her attentions to Carole's
unblemished left breast. A relentless barrage of violent swats
were meted out buy the strong woman on her frail daughter causing
Carole to rant deliriously, spit, drool and gag on her desperate
screams for mercy.

Carole wept bitterly as the assault on her tender breasts
subsided. Her mother was now looking quite flushed from the sheer
physical exertion of beating her errant young daughter so
thoroughly. I glanced at my watch; Carole had been under the whip
now for over half an hour. Mme Dulac came and leaned on the table
next to my seat. She looked at her writhing moaning daughter.
Strapped in place, her short skirt around her waist and her
sweater bunched up over her head. Her whipped legs still
quivering and her thighs squirming as she tried to lessen the
pain of sitting on her horsewhipped pussy. On the floor by her
feet the tiny lace trimmed cotton briefs lay discarded in the
small pool of urine she had expelled after suffering the dreadful
riding whip that had been so cruelly directed. Her head lolled on
her shoulders, her face sore and red from the hot salt tears,
which still ran freely. Her tiny heaving breasts strapped up with
the tight belt shook with her panting breaths. The once plump and
erect fresh pink nipples now swollen grossly and blackened by the
bruising swats from the wooden spatula. And for what? Any mother
could surely see that this poor young girl was never built to
suffer such brutal torture. All because of a moment's irrational
violence towards a younger companion. Even if she were planning
some heavy petting with an illicit boyfriend surely her
punishment had exceeded anything that might be considered
reasonable. I looked up at Mme Dulac And she looked back at me;
she had tears in her eyes. "Oh Suzanne, how terrible you think I
am to whip little Carole so?" I shrugged and said nothing. "It
should be over now, so you think?" Again I just shrugged, as if
to say it were none of my business how she chose to punish her
own daughter. "Yes it should be over now, but I have to tell you
it cannot be, and now I explain how it is to be even more
terrible for little Carole."

I was really taken aback by this, Mme Dulac was clearly having a
big guilt trip about what she had just done to her only daughter.
But, she was now going to continue? Surely not. We sat there in
the kitchen listening to Carole's pathetic sobs and heart-rending
pleas while Mme Dulac explained. Apparently she had known Carole
had been seeing a boy and getting up to no good for some time.
Such behaviour was very much frowned upon by the local community.
Despite many warnings from her mother it appeared Carole found
her boyfriend's touch irresistible. On the day in question,
Carole had in fact sent her young companion home, bribed with
sweets. Things had not gone to plan and Carole had since told her
mother everything that had happened. All except the boy's name,
she had apparently just given more details of her misdeeds to her
mother while being questioned under the whip. Once the little
companion had been sent on her way, Carole had met her boy under
the bridge near the local canal. There they had caressed each
other and kissed. They had also explored each other's bodies.
Unfortunately the little companion had been seen going home on
her own by her older brother who had been driving his truck out
of town. He had been very upset to find the girl on her own with
too many sweets and had asked where he might find Carole. By the
time the little girl and her brother found them Carole and her
boy had been getting into a very heavy session indeed. They were
found under the bridge, Carole was leaning back against the wall
with her panties around her ankles; the boy was crouching down
between her legs. It was clear to the older brother that Carole
was having her young bare cunt licked out by the enthusiastic
boy. The older brother first sought to protect the little girl
from the disgusting scene. In doing so, Carole's boy was alerted
and ran without being identified. In the process he shoved the
little girl down the canal bank, Carole had run all the way home
hoping to lie her way out of the situation, leaving the little
girl's brother to save his sister from falling into the canal.

Mme Dulac had discovered Carole breathless in her room hastily
putting on a clean pair of panties. Carole had admitted at this
point part of what had been going on. This would have earned her
a severe punishment and she would have simply had her legs
whipped. However, within the hour, and just before I had come
back to the house, there had been a knock at the door. Genevieve,
the little girl, her Mother and big Brother were there. They were
furious about Genevieve being nearly drowned, and shocked that
neither Carole nor the boy had offered to help. They were even
more determined that a local underage slut be seen to be punished
for leading boys astray and ruining her mother's good reputation.
To Mme Dulac's distress and Carole's eternal shame Genevieve's
brother produced Carole's discarded panties that he had recovered
from the scene. He went on to describe the heavy soiling. He
pointed out that the wearer of these must have been in a highly
aroused state. Even before they were removed to allow the boy to
use his tongue on her cunt Carole must have been having her
vaginal opening rubbed by letting the boy put his fingers inside
her panties, or even worse, maybe his cock! They demanded that
the identity of the boy be found out so they could notify his
parents and protect him from being sucked in by the teenage
temptress. This seemed so unfair, but Mme Dulac explained that it
was common to blame the girls in these cases and that her
reputation was in ruins. The only shred of credibility she could
restore was to be seen to punish her daughter in the most
horrible and extreme way. The more shameful the spectacle of
Carole's punishment the more Mme Dulac would preserve of her
tattered credibility. Genevieve's mother demanded that they would
be allowed the satisfaction of witnessing Carole's punishment.
They also demanded that the boy be present with his family. They
eventually left to go and round up the spectator group, in the
meantime they expected Carole's punishment to commence and
progress until their return. They expected her to be punished for
the danger she caused to little Genevieve, punished for
withholding the boys name, and made ready to be punished for
being a slut in front of the spectators. Part of the punishment
would be to demonstrate to all the spectators that Carole was
still physically a virgin. They would want to all inspect her
hymen before the punishments proceeded. "People will come to see
it, you will 'ave to see it. All of this is just zee warming up."
Mme Dulac wept. "I will get everything ready, it takes a little
time. Please you come back in 'alf an hour to sit with the
people, to inspect the punishments." I did not know what to say,
my head spun, I stood up and put my hand on her shoulder, "Of
course, I will be here if you wish it." I said. I took a look
over at Carole, still sobbing gently; she glanced back at me, her
eyes pleading. I walked out of the kitchen to go up to my room.

On the way upstairs I was in two minds. One part of me was guilty
about the brutality going on the kitchen in front of my very
eyes. Surely the police should be notified, even if such extreme
whipping was demanded by local custom. The other side of me
craved the experience of witnessing the scene. I had already
soaked my own panties. The account of Carole having her teenage
slit masturbated and licked drove me to the edge of orgasm. I
resolved that I could probably do nothing to stop these people,
and that the consequences for Mme Dulac and Carole could be worse
if the punishments did not go ahead. The more I thought about it
the more I fantasised about what it would be like to be Carole. I
decided to take a shower to cool down, I stripped and put my
soaked panties into the wash basket. I kept my own pussy almost
bare and my bathroom mirror revealed how turned on I was. The hot
tingling shower had me on my knees for a thrilling orgasm within
seconds. I washed quickly and got out of the shower. I dried my
hair and put it into a ponytail. I was very excited now and my
heart was thumping. There was no doubt in my mind; I was going to
relish this experience. I did not want to be too obvious but I
wanted to do everything to increase the thrills I knew would
overtake me. I dried off and applied deodorant under my arms, I
put a little between my legs to make my pussy lips sting a
little. I rummaged in my underwear drawer and found my black PVC
bra and panties. These were what I sometimes used to drive the
boys mad, but the tight shiny garments also excited me
tremendously. The advantage was that the tight thong would not
leak, so when I became aroused I would not embarrass myself by
leaving a wet patch. I thought about wearing a nipple chain, but
guessed that it may show through my clothes. As it was I knew my
nipples would be quite obvious due to the PVC bra being a
half-cup affair. Although my breasts are quite small the bra had
the same effect as the belt across Carole's tiny buds. This
thought caused a tingle to run up and down from my nipples to my
clit which was firmly contained by the tight black thong. I then
slid into my tightest jeans, wriggling the seam right into my PVC
covered groove. I breathed in to zip the fly and walked around
the room feeling very sexy. I topped off with a baggy sweatshirt,
and slipped my trainers back on. I felt more than a twinge of
guilt when I thought about using Carole's terrible misfortunes to
get me off. There was a knock at the door and my heart leapt.
This was going to be it. What would they do to that poor girl
now?

When I got down to the hall there seemed to be at least a dozen
people taking off their coats. I introduced myself. Mme. Dulac
was looking more composed. Her face was stern and purposeful. I
looked along the hall and saw that the kitchen door was closed.
Within the group of people in the hall were Genevieve's brother
Paul who was a tall stocky man of a bout 20. His mother, who
looked very agitated and annoyed. He spoke good English and
introduced me to Marc, a young lad of about 17 and his Mother and
Father. He was Carole's mystery boy. He was white faced and
looked dreadfully uncomfortable as did his parents. "Allo Miss
Suzanne, yes Carole is telling the name to get things over with.
She will be well punished for causing this fine young man to be
drawn into her wicked ways" I could not believe this was the same
woman that I'd been talking to a little over half an hour ago.
These people sure took their reputations seriously. There was
also another couple, M. and Mme. Fournel who apparently taught at
Carole's school. Soon Mme. Dulac ushered us along the hall and
she opened the door to the kitchen. I was first through the door.
There were enough chairs for us all to take a seat. Some chairs
obviously borrowed and some brought in ufrom the small outside
patio. They were arranged in two rows facing the punishment chair
to which Carole was still strapped. Oh my goodness what a sight
to behold. Carole looked at her audience with fear and shame all
over her young tragic face. She still wore her blue Alice band in
her hair, which was now looking rather tousled. Her sweater and
Bra were as before pushed up to expose her tiny belted breasts.
The nipples looked impossibly large and black atop the bruised
reddened flesh. Her abdomen was bare to the waist where the short
pleated skirt still clung. Her hips and legs however had been
completely re arranged. Her legs were again raised up to her
shoulder height. But this time a long plank of wood had been tied
across the back of the chair. This allowed her feet to be
attached at each end of the plank so that her legs were spread at
full split. Her waist and wrists were fastened as before so that
the stretching of her long slender legs revealed the most awesome
sight. Firstly the backs of her thighs were very obviously coated
in the welts left from the martinet. Her unscathed inner thighs
were also exposed. Her thrashed buttocks were spread wide open
revealing white flesh between and the tightly puckered anal
sphincter at the centre. Above the neat little butt hole was the
object of the crude and humiliating display. Carole's vagina was
splayed wide open. The puffy skin of her mound was red, sore and
showed where the riding whip had been used earlier. However her
new position had pushed the injured tissue to the periphery and a
chasm had opened in between. Her little sex hole was wide open.
Spread above it were the gleaming pink labia majora. Crowning
these beautiful tender petals was the miniature oyster of her
labia minora, and for all to see the pink hard pearl of her
clitoris lay vulnerable and unprotected. We all took a seat and
had a completely unrestricted view. Mme Dulac had placed a lamp
on the table that illuminated the scene so that every detail was
plainly visible. Mark was made to stand to one side of Carole; he
looked horrified at the cowering girl. His father started to
explain something. Paul leaned over my shoulder from behind and
translated. "Marc will be examined to see if he gets excited
watching Carole. If he does he will get a sharp reminder that he
must not lose control when there are sluts to tempt him." Marc
was unfastening his fly and soon his penis was exposed to
everyone. His father made him drop his trousers to the floor.
Marc's young cock stuck right out of his Y-Front pants hard and
erect, the foreskin peeled back from the glossy dome. His father
muttered in disdain. From his pocket he produced a short piece of
rubber flex with the end taped over. He gripped the base of his
son's penis with his left hand and proceeded to beat the bulging
end with the flex with short sharp flicks. Marc's erection soon
died and he stifled the urge to scream with pain. There he stood
tearful, cock now limp with his vigilant father watching for
further signs of arousal.

Mme Dulac addressed the room, her French too fast for me; again I
felt Paul's warm breath on my neck. "She says Carole has been
very bad, but she is only a foolish girl and not a whore. We must
all go and see that Carole's hymen is still in place so we cannot
say she is a whore." One by one we all went and stared into the
poor girl's gaping cunt. Sure enough the silky membrane was
stretched across her hole proving that nothing substantial had
ever penetrated her vagina. Paul's mother was dismissive and
pointed to the girl's anus. I could guess what she was implying.
While this went on I noticed Carloe's white panties were still on
the floor and that the pee had been left there for all to see.
Carole was making her grating noise again as the men and women
stared into her gaping slit and nodded approvingly. Paul's mother
then produced what must have been the pair of panties left at the
scene. Tiny pale blue lace ones, very sheer and typically French
I thought, she turned out the gusset and showed everyone the
stains, pushed them under Marc's nose and then into Carole's
weeping face. "She says any girl her age that makes that kind of
mess must be training to become a whore, so she should be
punished like one." Paul related. We herd the whap! Whap! WHAP!
Of the rubber flex again, Marc hopped and grimaced as his bulging
cock was again brought down. Mme Dulac nodded in agreement, she
had acted like a whore and we would all see her whipped like one.
She picked up the martinet and swung it briskly through the air.
The sound made me shudder and I knew I was starting to spill into
my own panties. Carole looked up in disbelief as her mother stood
in front and to the left of her and laid the tails of the
martinet gently over her wide open slit. She adjusted a little so
the very tips of the martinet's tails lay over the most sensitive
and delicate tissue. Her arm pulled the tails down and the
martinet swung behind her and over the shoulder to be brought
whistling back down to the starting point with deadly accuracy
and blinding speed. The tails recoiled off Carole's pussy and Mme
Dulac's arm continued to windmill around and around. There was a
loud slap each time the whip's tails lashed into the wet slit.
Carole's squealing was inhuman, her body went into spasm and it
looked like her young muscles would tear from her bones as she
struggled with every ounce of her strength against the harsh
bonds. The terrible beating continued with hard measured strokes,
the martinet fizzed in the air as it lashed down between the
desperate girl's legs. Her delicate lace covered feet were firmly
strapped to the long plank. She was a very flexible girl, but if
she had been pulled any wider I'm sure her hips would have
dislocated. I watched her thighs start to perspire, the
whip-scorched surface flexing and shuddering as she tried to pull
her feet away from the ends of the plank. Her muscles tensed and
visibly shook after each stinging impact burned into her now red
and angry cunt lips. A gasping breath followed by a stifled
squeal accompanied the rhythmic flexing of her muscles. I got so
breathless as I watched, the reaction to each lash slightly
delayed after the sharp slap of the impact. It looked just like
she was straining to open her little slit wider to accept the
next stroke. I had to change my seating position to stop my legs
from trembling as I imagined stretching my own wet vaginal lips
to allow the whip to burn me in my most secret places. Maybe Marc
had been thinking on similar lines because there was the staccato
sound of the rubber flex whipping the end of his engorged cock
playing counterpoint to the martinet's measured strokes. Paul
whispered in my ear, "twenty nine, thirty…" He was counting
Carole's lashes good god thirty lashes with that long leather
tailed whip on her poor unprotected labia, not to mention her
tiny little clitoris which we had all seen during the inspection.
And still the lashes came. Carole had lost the rhythm now the
flexing of her muscles was causing her pelvis to twitch back and
forth as far as the tight fastenings would allow this made her
little whipped cunt wiggle up and down as if she were urgently
frigging herself up against some invisible cock. Her eyes were
rolling in their sockets; her cries less piercing but still
animal in nature due to sheer exhaustion. I looked at her wet
titties, soaked with tears and sweat with the rigid black nipples
jutting forward above the damp leather restraint. The martinet
still beat down on her jiggling pussy hard as ever. I could see
her cunt lips had turned black and had swollen horribly. Her clit
and the surrounding frills had also darkened and puffed up so
that her once tiny pink bundle of nerve endings was now poking up
hard and bruised and even more exposed to the stinging tails of
the whip. There was a spattering noise; she was releasing her
bladder again, intermittent spurts jetting out from the inflamed
and smarting mass of vaginal flesh. Mme Dulac did not falter, the
whip continued to mete out its vicious torturing pain. The piss
splashed from the whip's tails and squirted out from the girl's
stinging pee hole between each lash. "Thirty nine, forty"
Whispered Paul.

The sight of young Carole jerking her open pussy so urgently
against the whip, and then the piss coming like little
ejaculations had me in floods; I closed my eyes and breathed out
long and slow as I came in my tight PVC thong. I was terrified
Paul would notice my face must have been bright pink. As I
recovered the final lash was delivered; Mme Dulac turned towards
the audience, out of breath, sweating profusely trailing the whip
on the floor, the wet tails leaving their mark on the bare
concrete. Her voice was weak and shaky as she invited us all to
come and take a close look at her daughter's punished slit. As we
filed past Mme Dulac gave Carole some water through a straw; the
girl could not control her breathing sufficiently to suck on the
straw efficiently and a lot was spilled. Carole's little black
skirt was wet now, soaked in pee and sweat. I leaned over as the
others had done to closely inspect her trembling vagina. The
whole area between her thighs and buttocks was now purple or
black, some flecks of blood oozed out of the painful black
blisters where the skin was broken by repeated whipping. The
gaping hole we had peered into earlier was almost closed now due
to the swelling of the punished flesh. The delicate pink labia
looked like black knotted leather around the purple wet inner
recesses of her slit. Above, her bare thrashed mound was covered
in hard purple welts and in the centre where the groove of her
slit started the engorged red mass that had been the labia minora
erupted around the glistening black cherry if her battered
clitoris. I felt the heat on my face, I was sure I could see her
clit throbbing with the agonising pain, and I could smell her,
strong and pungent the mixed scent of cunt, piss and blood.

After everyone had peered and sniffed to their satisfaction we
filed back to the seats, I took a look at Mark, still standing
with his cock out, and although limp the end was swollen and
bruised and I noticed a small bead of fluid forming at the very
end. I started to wonder what would happen and expected everyone
to start gathering his or her things and get ready to go home.
But we sat there, the other's seemed expectant, I wanted to go up
to my room and masturbate. Mme. Dulac had placed the martinet on
the table and was now washing Carole's face with a cloth; she
gently dabbed her breasts also, and then mopped carefully between
her legs. Carole gasped at the touch of the cloth on her punished
cunt. Once the dabbing and fussing was over, Mme Dulac clasped
her daughter's terror stricken face in her hands, looked her in
the eyes and nodded to her. She then stood up and moved away. The
room was silent. Paul and Genevieve's mother looked very
agitated, expectant even. Then, Carole spoke. A tiny wavering
voice, speaking slowly and deliberately interrupted occasionally
by the involuntary sobs and gasps that her distressed state
demanded. I felt Paul's presence at my shoulder again. " She is
apologising to my mother for causing the terrible accident to
Genevieve. She wants my mother to be satisfied that she is very
sorry. She invites her to take the whip to the insides of her
thighs so they will be scarred like the backside. Also she
invites my mother to give her two dozen lashes anywhere she
chooses to be sure that the punishment is completed to her
satisfaction." I was so shocked; this poor tortured girl,
inviting someone to give her yet another whipping. This was too
much. The woman got up quickly, her face a picture of
determination and boundless cruelty. She was dressed in slacks
and a short sleeved blouse. A fit and wiry woman of about forty,
she marched over to the table, reached out and grasped not the
martinet but the long thin riding whip. Mme Dulac gasped; Carole
started her horrible noises again. The woman was determined. Not
the martinet! The horsewhip! Mme Dulac capitulated and sat down
with her head in her hands. Paul's mother spent some time
examining the shiny black whip. It had a short leather tail at
the end; it tapered from the handle down to this whippy end and
was covered in fine woven strands of polished black leather. I'd
guessed from the way it had been used on Carole earlier that the
core was fibreglass. Whatever horrors the martinet was capable
of, this would be a lot worse I was in no doubt. The woman
approached Carole, whip in hand, slashing it through the air. It
made a shrill sound and bent almost to a right angle between the
handle and the whippy tail. She lectured Carole, rested the whip
at the tender top of her inner thigh and stroked it along almost
to the quivering knee joint. This was repeated on the other leg.
"She tells her where she will be getting it" Paul whispered
unnecessarily. His mother then leaned over the girl and very
visibly sniffed at her slit. She went back to her seat mumbling.
"She smells like a whore" Paul gloated. His mother took a small
perfume spray from her purse and went over to Carole, the cruel
bitch squirted three times onto the tortured cunt flesh. As she
replaced the perfume Carole recoiled and began to writhe and
squeal as the burning pain seared into her from every nerve in
her tender slit that had been sprayed with cologne. The woman
stood over the hysterical girl horsewhip at the ready.

It started. We all drew a sharp breath when the high pitched
swish ended in the most sickening crack! The whip end had cut
into the white flesh of Carole's thigh very close to the
blistered area surrounding her burning punished vagina. Carole's
voice was not able to do justice to her scream, again the
terrible sound. This time on the opposite side of her cunt,
mirroring the first shot. Third cut, two inches further down the
thigh from the first. Fourth cut, exactly the same on the other
leg. The woman was strictly methodical, merciless and brutal. The
whip was leaving hard raised welts. Purple and black tramlines
quickly appeared, as did small drops of blood trickling from the
blazing wounds. Carole was trying to thrash her hips about again.
But she was held fast and her supreme effort only caused her cunt
to move up and down, twitching and shuddering between the awful
cuts from the singing whip. The whip cracks ceased, Carole's
pathetic squealing continued. She had taken twelve bloody cuts on
each thigh, the once smooth white flesh carved into deep red and
black furrows by the burning tip of the horsewhip. The cruel
woman stood and surveyed the workmanship with a smug smile. We
all did, we knew it was not over though. Mme, Dulac was
distraught but had to accept the situation. Carole was babbling
in a world of pain and agony far from us. During the
horsewhipping Carole had produced a stream of clear mucus which
oozed out of her blistered vagina and over her anus, long thin
strands dripped to the floor. Marc was having his cock whipped
again by his scolding father. The boy yelled in pain this time as
the rubber flex beat down on the already whipped and purple
glans. Once his cock was limp again he was told to put it away
and put his trousers back on. Meanwhile Paul's mother was
strutting about swishing the whip and intimidating the terrified
girl as she decided where to place the next twenty-four strokes.
She pointed the whip's tail at the dripping strands of mucus. She
coated the end of the whip in the slimy discharge then held the
whip against Carole's glistening pink anus. Carole guessed what
was going to happen, the only really sensitive spot left which
had not been directly beaten was her twitching pink butt hole.
She cried bitterly pleading not to have the horsewhip applied to
her tender anal sphincter. The woman took no notice, she'd almost
accused Carole of being penetrated there and now she was going to
whip it good and hard. She positioned herself to get a full swing
and to bring the tip of the whip right on to the centre of the
puckered hole. Crack Crack Crack! Went the whip. Carole almost
unble to respond now, translated her best efforts into stifled
yelps and a delayed wiggling of her backside which again made her
look as if she were trying to push her butt hole up into the path
of the whip. Paul's mother did not waste any time fast hard and
furious the cuts came one on top of the other as the tender
muscle twitched and swelled and went black with the terrible
blistering cuts. I had counted eighteen, when the onslaught
stopped. Could that be it? Will she let poor Carole off the last
six cuts? No! She beckoned Paul over to her and spoke quietly to
him, and then she said something to Mme Dulac who just shook her
head. Paul went to the side of the stricken girl and put both
hands between her legs. He used his thumbs to spread the
squealing girl's pussy so wide that I thought she would tear. Her
clit stood up proud and below was revealed the inner walls of her
vaginal opening which still had their reddish pink hue. Carole
renewed her pleas for mercy with desperate urgency when she
realised her clitoris was going to be horse whipped. The whip's
tail was placed along the groove and the very end rested on
Carole's sticky hard and swollen clit. She squealed at the merest
touch on the punished bundle of nerves. The whip swung, the
people gasped, Carole screamed long and loud, six blistering
strokes to go and I was ready to come again, for the third time
pee squirted from Carole's tortured pussy as the hard burning
whip slammed into her white hot burning clit again and again.
They had all gone, I had seen them all to the door while Mme
Dulac set about releasing her semi-conscious daughter. After I
closed the door I went upstairs, I needed to pee and I also
wanted to pleasure myself. I went to the toilet and was quite
shocked at the mess I had made inside my panties. I changed,
thought about masturbating but decided to go back down to see how
Carole and her mother were coping. I was amazed to find Carole
standing with her shaky whip scarred legs spread apart, and her
body leaning forward over the table. Her mother was sitting
behind her rubbing salve into her welts and cuts. They both
looked over to me and Mme Dulac beckoned for me to sit where I
was. Carole fixed my gaze. The application of the ointment
proceeded up the punished girl's thighs and on to her blistered
buttocks. Occasionally she murmured in pain and often directed
her mother's attentions between her legs. Mme Dulac seemed
reluctant to nurse her daughter there, and would continue to
treat the buttocks and thighs. Carole moaned and spoke briskly to
her mother; she shuffled her feet further apart and tipped
herself further forward. Her mother sighed and took a little more
salve on her finger, which she then placed, between Carole's
legs. Carole stared at me; her eyes regained some of their smug
aloof quality. Her mother massaged ever so gently, Carole's eyes
rolled and as I watched she smiled the most gorgeous smile right
back at me holding my gaze once more she shuddered and yielded to
her blissful orgasm.