Linda and the Lash

Towards the end of breakfast the following morning - Carmen and I sat naked, the men in thongs - Brad looked at Gary with what I thought was a malicious grin. "What say we give Linda a double F?" he asked.

The term "double F" meant nothing to me, but Gary was obviously fully aware of what his host was talking about. "What a wonderful idea," he said, pouring himself another black coffee from the big pot in the center of the table.

Then his wife piped up: "And how about a videotape of the proceedings?"

Brad looked at the lush-breasted black woman. "You good with a video camera, Carmen?"

The big woman laughed. "Good? Brad, you don't work for the BBC for as long as I have without being able to operate the play and pause buttons. I'm pretty good with the zoom, too!"

The men laughed, but I was still intrigued to know what the fuck a "double F" was. So I did the natural thing – I asked.

Brad looked at the Cambridge University professor. "What d'ya reckon, Gary? Shall we tell her, or let her find out?"

The handsome silver-haired black man smiled and looked at me with amusement. "Keep her in suspense, Brad, old boy," he said, in his upper-crust Limey accent. "She'll soon work it out once we've started."

"That's settled then," said Brad, all business-like. "Let's clear up this mess and we can get started. Carmen, take our lovely little lash lover down to the basement. Gary and I will sort all these plates and things out. The camera's by the television."

Carmen and I then went down to Brad's beautifully-appointed torture chamber and once inside I asked her: "What the fuck is a 'double F' Carmen?"

The beautiful black bird grinned, as she looked the video camera over, making herself au fait with its operation.

"What two things, starting with 'f' do our boy friends like most, sweetie," she said in her BBC accent.

That wasn't a question that took much thought on my part. "Fucking and flogging?" I said, "but not necessarily in that order."

"Precisely," said Carmen, but any further conversation was made impossible by the arrival of Brad and Gary, both now naked, both sporting hard-ons. Brad's seven-inches of uncut cock was beautiful, but dwarfed by Gary's nine-inch circumcized monster.

Then, as Carmen focused the camera and pressed the record button, the two naked men took me to the leather flogging bench and soon had me strapped over it, my thighs dragged wide as my ankles were pinioned at the wide bottom legs.

They then went to the equipment bench and returned to my bound body each carrying small whips. The handles were about as long as the width of a man's palm, the six lashes on each flogger were no longer than one foot in length and gleamed, made as they were of red rubber.

Brad took up his place in front of my face, his cock hovering only inches from my mouth. Gary stepped behind me.

"She'll probably need some lubrication, Gary," Brad informed his fellow flogger. "She's all yours."

There was, of course, no way I needed any lubrication down there. I was extremely aroused and I knew my pussy was simply streaming love juice. Not that that, of course, was anything to do with matters. It was simply that before they began my flogging I had to be licked towards arousal.

Carmen moved around with the camera and filmed as her husband knelt behind my displayed pussy and began to lick and kiss at my wetness. Soon I was panting from delight, but I was immediately quietened by Brad who pressed his seven-inch prick into my mouth and hissed: "Suck me, bitch!"

As I began to fellate Brad's lovely penis, I felt Gary rise from his kneeling position and then experienced the wonderful thrust of his monster as he pushed it deep into my cunt.

Carmen stood off to one side filming my double penetration when Brad nodded to his partner in punishment: "Time to start, I think."

And then I felt the floggers begin their stinging, exciting work. Gary laid the first blow on me, it fell with a splat of the thongs across my shoulder blades. When the flogger had been dragged back down to my buttocks and away from my body, Brad took his turn – only his stroke cracked against the upper crests of my heaving buttocks, before tracing a path back up my back over my shoulder blades.

And so my fiery flagellation continued. First Gary would flog my upper back, then Brad would attack my buttocks, one stroke, then another, as they continued to fuck me in my cunt and my mouth.

After several minutes of this, Brad pulled his stiffly-swaying cock from my compliant mouth and in a husky, excited voice, said: "Time to switch, I think."

The men moved around my strapped, naked body and then I was confronted with Gary's massive, sex juice-smeared nine inches, its circumcized helmet purple and gleaming. I took about half of it into my mouth as Brad's smaller but no less satisfying cock invaded my cunt.

Then, when they had both established a steady tempo of thrusting, Brad obviously nodded to his partner in pain, because I heard no oral instruction, but the floggers resumed their punishing attacks to my upper back and buttocks.

Soon, Brad was gasping and he announced to Carmen: "Get ready for a money shot, Carmen, I'm just about there."

Carmen's camera was aimed at my pummelled posterior, then Brad was out of me, his cock was poised against my burning buttocks and his spunk was shooting out in a plume of semen onto my back.

He had hardly finished, than Gary told his wife: "I'm coming round to give her some more."

Carmen nodded and aimed her lens at my gaping cunt as her husband's monstrous weapon thrust into me once more. Then, after about a minute of humping and heaving, the university lecturer withdrew to shoot his seed above the now cooling splotch of spunk that Brad had deposited so recently.

As Gary was spunking on my back, Brad had pressed his cock – going limp but still quite stiff – into my mouth for a final clean up. Gary did the same after his ejaculation, then my ordeal was over.

Both men released me from the bench, both gave me long, lingering, smoochy kisses.

Afterwards, Brad hugged me and asked: "Now, my lovely little librarian, you know what we mean by a 'double F', don't you?"

"Double flogging, double fucking?" I grinned.

"Go to the top of the class, my dear," said Brad.

"And that's a take!" Carmen cried and pressed the stop button on the video camera, and we all trooped upstairs.

Later, after Brad had transferred the film to a videotape which could later watch on the big screen, he looked at Gary and asked: "Time for Carmen to enjoy a little of the lash?"

Gary nodded enthusiastically. "I think it's time she had a taste of the prancing pony," he said.

Brad broke into a broad smile. "Oh that's just so fucking sexy – and so punishing," he said. "Linda, reckon you can operate the video camera?"

"You betcha," I said, eager to witness the "prancing pony". The "double F" had me unawares, but I thought I knew what the prancing pony would be like.

After a period of rest and recuperation, spent frolicking in the lovely blue waters of Brad's pool, with its wonderful view out to the valley, we all towelled down. Brad then produced a piece of chalk and made a mark on the paving stones off to one side of the pool.

"That's where you'll prance, Carmen," he said, then we all went inside and got ready.

I was given the camera with a fresh one hour tape. "Should be long enough," said Gary.

I put on a baseball cap to shade my head, then some high heels and went out poolside to await the arrival of Brad, Gary and Carmen.

From inside the house I heard Brad call out: "Start filming now, Linda. We're bringing her out through the lounge sliding windows."

I brought the camera's viewfinder to bear on the windows, then Carmen emerged from the room. She was a stunning sight.

A sort of leather band had been placed around the top of her head and springing up from it was a deep black feathered plume. In her mouth was a red rubber bit, which was strapped around the back of her head. Her wrists were encased in black leather cuffs with D rings, which had been clipped to a black leather choker around her neck. Her elbows thus pointed out straight ahead and horizontally.

Carmen's luscious 40-inch breasts were thrown into mouth-watering uplift by a black leather quarter-cup brassiere. Nipple clamps had been attached to her large, erect nubbins, linked by a chain which hung down below the bra thanks to a little lead ball through which the chain was threaded.

On Carmen's feet were black shoes, the patent leather gleaming. The shoes had thick, chunky high heels. Her pussy and buttocks were bare, her body was shining all dark brown and choclatey in the warm Californian sunshine.

Then I heard a call from Brad: "Walk on!" Next came a sound of a whip cracking. Then Carmen began to move out towards the spot where Brad had marked with chalk. She walked – no, make that pranced slowly, with each step she brought a knee up until her thigh was horizontal with the ground. Her tits wobbled deliciously as she advanced towards me. Then, when she reached the marked spot, she halted but slowly continued her prancing, bringing her knees smartly up to the horizontal each time.

Behind her, walking slowly so as to stay behind her came Brad and Gary, both naked, both aroused, their cocks swaying as they jutted out from their groins. Each carried buggy whips, thin, supple implements which must have been almost five feet long!

Gary moved to his wife's left and with a sweeping cut of the buggy whip across her bouncing buttocks he ordered: "Halt!"

I moved around to behind the black woman's back and took a three-quarter shot of Gary bringing back the buggy whip and then slashing it across his wife's buttocks, leaving a thin line where it had bitten into her flesh. On receipt of the stroke, Carmen smartly lifted her right foot until her thigh was level with the ground, her foot pointing daintily down to the ground. Then she held it, perfectly balanced, her left calf and thigh rippling with the strain of the stance.

Gary then moved behind her until he was off to her right. Again the buggy whip slashed. Down went Carmen's right foot and up came her left, until this time her left thigh was horizontal to the ground, her foot again pointing down. This time the calf and thigh of her right leg strained under the pressure of one-legged stance.

Now it was Brad's turn to whip his persuader against Carmen's beautiful big bottom. As he did so, Gary moved in front of his wife and indicated to me with a jerk of his head that I should film from the front. When I was in position Gary spoke: "Now, my lovely little prancing pony, shall we see if you are ticklish? That'll be fun, won't it?"

And without waiting for any nod of indication from his wife – she obviously couldn't speak with the rubber bit in her mouth – Gary placed the tip of the buggy whip against Carmen's sex trench, flicking it along the lips, teasingly.

Carmen's face was already sweating in the sun, and her body was also taking on a lovely sheen from her perspiration. She obviously had to concentrate like crazy to maintain her balance as her husband ran the tip of his buggy whip along her sex. Then Gary moved off to his wife's left side ready to inflict his next two strokes after Brad had landed his two.

When Brad reached the front of the sweat-stained "pony" he also teased her by running the buggy whip up against her sex lips.

This torment went on for 10 or 15 minutes, the two stiff-pricked men circling their prey, sometimes tickling her minge with their whips, sometimes ignoring her, so she could never be sure if the whip was going to flick between her thighs.

Then, after their first flagellation foray, Brad called out: "Gary, I don't know about you, but I'm finding this thirsty fucking work. What say we break for a beer?"

Gary had just struck a blow from Carmen's left side, so her right thigh, leg and foot were in the air in the pony pose.

"Great idea, let's go – and Linda, keeping filming so we can check later that Carmen doesn't cheat while we're gone and lower her foot!" And with that the two laughing men walked back into the house where their voices could be heard as they enjoyed cold beers inside.

Meanwhile, I was finding it extremely hot out in the sun simply holding the video camera and recording Carmen's punishment. For her it must have been far worse. She was sweating under the full brunt of the sun and she was maintaining what I was sure was an excruciatingly difficult pose. I timed the wait she had, poised on one foot, at four minutes, before the men returned to enjoy continue the torment of their lovely plaything.

Gary stepped off to his wife's right and snapped: "Right, time you worked up a decent sweat, my darling little prancing pony. Quick prancing – commence!" And with that he cracked the buggy whip across her backside.

Now Carmen went into a quick, on-the-spot prancing, her feet tapping up and down on the pavers, her body gleaming until it was covered in a slippery sheen of perspiration which ran into thin streams down her nearly naked body. At her mouth, drool ran from the corners of her mouth and dripped onto her chin.

The men stood in front of her, stroking their cocks as the prancing pony worked.

Then Brad took charge. Stepping off to her left side he whipped the leather punisher across her wobbling, jouncing buttocks and snapped "Slow prance – commence!"

The panting pony then slowed the tempo of her movements to that of her prancing gait on her walk out of the house to the chalk mark.

Finally, the men relented and called a halt. When I say "called" I mean "whipped", of course. Brad lashed the buggy whip across poor Carmen's buttocks and called "Halt!"

She finally came to a rest, heaving and panting from her exertions. But the men had still not finished with her!

"Bend!" snapped Brad, and Carmen inclined her upper body forward until she was almost, but not quite, bending over horizontally to the ground.

Brad stepped behind the woman's upturned cheeks and stroked his erection. "May I?" he inquired of Gary.

"My dear chap," said the university lecturer in his posh English accent, "be my guest."

And Brad guided his stiff-helmeted prick to Carmen's pink cunt lips and thrust smoothly up her. I filmed it all, his buttocks tensing and relaxing, tensing and relaxing as he fucked her and then withdrew seconds before his climax so I could get "the money shot" as he sprayed his sperm onto Carmen's glistening back.

Now, I thought, that would be it - but no! Gary was smiling and proudly erect as he stepped to his wife and lifted her chin, forcing her back up to a standing position.

"Right, my darling little pony, that's enough of the slacking. Time you pranced for me again!"

And this time, Gary performed a solo display of buggy whip domination, marching slowly around the beautifully prancing pony as she obeyed each stroke by lifting first her left, then her right legs into the muscle-straining pose demanded by the discipline. I got some great shots of Brad's spunk sliding down her back and onto her glorious buttock globes as she pranced.

For anther 10 minutes she was pranced like this and then Gary then whipped her into a fast prance, then back to a slow prance. And to complete the punishment, he once more had her bent forward for her fuck. Again I got great pictures of the "cum shot" as Gary spunked onto his wife's back.

When I checked the video camera, I saw that I had been filming her ordeal for 45 minutes!

Later, as the men plunged into the pool, Carmen and I sat back in Brad's spa pool and relaxed over long, cooling glasses of vodka and tonic.

"That looked like hard work!" I exclaimed, as Carmen eased her whip-striped buttocks into the water and sucked on her vodka.

"My dear, you can fucking say that again," she said, placing her glass on the side of the pool. Once again the sound of the word "fucking" coming from such a beautifully modulated voice sounded strange.

"It looks like you've been doing it for a while," I said. "I'm sure I couldn't balance like that."

Carmen smiled. "Gary has an hour-long video – it's one of his favorites – of a young woman being trained by two hunks. And if she overbalances, she has to bend over and take six strokes of the cane. I've been trained the same way.

"At first I used to get quite a bit of the cane, but you gradually become used to it and now I'm a very well-trained little prancing pony." Then she grinned and added: "Well, maybe not so little."

"How did you meet a Cambridge University professor who's into flogging prancing ponies?" I asked.

"A lot of people in our flagellation circle ask me that," said Carmen, turning around and kneeling on the seat to ease her poor burning buttocks.

"He appeared on the current affairs programme that I present for the BBC. He was talking about the modern slave trade because the producers thought it would be interesting to have an expert on the American slave trade of the 1700s talk about the way some countries still practice it," she told me.

"After the show I met him in the hospitality room and he invited me out for dinner. Then I went back to his Mayfair flat, which he uses when he's not at Cambridge, and I found these books.

"They were amazing. Titles like 'Sold Into Slavery' and 'Pussy Whipped on the Plantation' and Gary was quite pissed and he told me all about his fetish."

I was interested in the similarities between Carmen's story and mine, but I was also intrigued by her penchant for pain.

"Oh, that's simple," she said. "You see in the UK I'm a hugely famous name. I make a lot of decisions on the program I present, I'm deferred to. Maitre d's kowtow to me like crazy. I boss people around."

"And?" I asked.

"Well," said Carmen, "it's nice every now and again to be on the receiving end of orders. To be told what to do. To be dominated. To be punished. And the whipping never breaks my flesh, never scars me. But it sure as hell excites me! And the sex afterwards is sensational. Isn't it?"

I had to confess it was. "But Gary has fucked me. Doesn't that concern you?"

Carmen smiled. "Darling, I've been around too long to worry about the fact that my old man fancies some younger pieces of fluff from time to time. Sorry, that's very rude. Younger ladies.

"And we have a very open relationship - as you've seen, I'm not exactly the shy spinster-type. And Brad's a great fuck, isn't he?"

"He most certainly is," I agreed. "And Gary's not too dusty either."

Later, after lunch, we sat in front of Brad' big screen and watched the two videos. First up was my "double F", which had been expertly videotaped by Carmen. It was there in all its stinging, delicious detail.

Then came my effort with the camera and Carmen re-lived her "pony prancing" punishment under the expert buggy whipping of Brad and her husband. I'm glad to say that my filming wasn't at all bad, even drawing a compliment from Carmen!

And then, just as the film of her humiliation was drawing to its steamy conclusion, Carmen piped up: "Why don't you train Linda to be a prancing pony, Brad?"

I felt a sudden flutter through my pussy, but Brad's reply possibly made me even more excited.

"I don't know about me," he told Carmen. "I rather think Gary here should do any training due to the lovely young minx. After all, he 'whipped' you into shape, as it were, didn't he?"

Brad then looked at his fellow author and grinned: "How about it, Gary? Care to do the honours?"

Gary looked over at me from his seat on the couch, where he and Carmen had cuddled and stroked each other during the hour and a half of erotic videos. "Well Linda, are you game?"

I nodded quickly. "Yes, Gary," I said, quietly, trying to hide my emotional turmoil. "But please go easy on me, those buggy whips look fearsome. Oh, and I've only got disgustingly high, high heels. Will they do?"