Gemma by Charles Graham

you were being caressed by your Masters. A total of thirty strokes, slavegirl," he paused and gazed hard into Gemma's terrified face, "Think yourself lucky slave," he hissed, "Had you not been a new and untrained slave, your punishment would have been much more severe."
     
    Gemma trembled wildly, the smooth flesh of her belly and breasts fluttering as she heard the sentence of her Masters and she squealed muffled pleas into her gag, begging for mercy, promising never to disobey again, to be the slave they wished her to be, anything they desired if only they didn't whip her.
     
    It made absolutely no impression on the two dominants and tears poured down Gemma's face as they took up their positions, Roxwell behind and her Mistress in front.
     
    The swish of Roxwell's crop gave Gemma a fraction of a second's warning, but not nearly enough for her to prepare herself and as the first of many stinging red stripes blazed its way across her tensioned buttocks, she screamed into her gag, her bottom erupting with heat. Immediately, her Mistress placed a shrewd cut across the tops of Gemma's thighs and the helpless girl shrieked in torment, her flesh blooming a vivid scarlet. Stretched by her bonds and quite unable to avoid the searing cuts of her Master's crops, Gemma screamed and wept as a mesh of reddened lines painted her thighs and buttocks. Again and again she begged for mercy and to be permitted to submit as their slave, certain that she could take no more of their merciless punishment...and time and again found that she was wrong! Not only could she take more, but she had to, for her Masters had no intention of allowing her to avoid what they considered her just deserts.
     
    Thirty strokes she had earned and thirty strokes her flinching, burning, striped body received!
     
    Long before the final stroke landed, the lesson had been well and truly learned by Gemma and she understood all too clearly the rules by which she was to be forced to live and the penalties that disobedience would bring down on her.
     
    She hung sobbing in her bonds as her Masters lowered their crops for the final time and walked from the room, leaving her to reflect on her errors as the pain of her punishment gradually subsided to a dull throbbing and her tears dried on her face. Still stretched in her bondage, she could not even rub her smarting flesh and her very helplessness reinforced the lesson that she had no choice but to submit. She had made her gesture of defiance and it had led her to this. No way would she ever dare repeat the experiment.
     
    Hours later, when her Masters returned to release her from her bondage, Gemma fell to the floor, her limbs and joints racked with aches and the tingling of returning circulation, then forced her stiff body to rise as she was cuffed and taken back to her own cell. Exhausted, she fell on the bed and went out like a light, too tired even to examine the fading pink stripes that patterned her buttocks and thighs like latticework.
     
     
    "You just don't learn, do you slavegirl. That's the third stripe you've earned yourself today for trying to evade a Master's touch."
     
    Gemma's training was continuing apace, the task made much easier for her Masters by Gemma's vivid recollection of her punishment of the previous day. Even with that in her mind, Gemma was still having trouble holding position when one of her Masters caressed her breasts or sex and even though they realised her problem, she still received a crop each time she moved. Three so far that day!
     
    "We'll try that again, slavegirl and this time, don't move! We are beginning to lose patience with you..."
     
    The implied threat sent a shiver through Gemma's displayed body and she steeled herself for the touch of the blonde's fingers, acutely aware that Roxwell and his crop hovered just behind her, ready to strike if she failed again.
     
    A soft palm cupped her right breast and cool fingers twirled the nipple, sending delicious tremors racing