South Africa

1859 Natal, South Africa
Morning

With a noisy creak, the heavy door opened and Kleine Kraal's head servant, Hlubi, stood in the entrance, large and forbidding, his presence all the girl needed to know that the time for her punishment had come at last. Scarcely a day after Rodger Blore had left for his yearly trip back to England, his son Kyle, now twenty and in charge of the ranch during his absence, had made a pass at the pretty Boer servant girl, Melissa Meuws, he had desired for the past two years. She was demurely cute, with glorious red hair down to her shoulders and freckles across her creamy-white skin. He grabbed her tits from behind, then spun her around and and tried to kiss her, but she pushed him away in indignation. “Come on, 'Lissa, you know you want it!” he insisted, reaching again for her chest, “My father is gone and the servants don't care. Come on, let's have a look at your titties!” But she had slapped his face and cursed him until he slunk away.

Kyle did not forget—or forgive. The Boer girl's rejection and contempt festered inside him. Two days later, he pushed open the door of her small servant's room and ordered a search. He looked triumphant when a small sack of gold coins were found under her mattress. Kyle identified them as his and accused her of thievery. As the acting Inkosi, laird of the ranch, he had coldly sentenced her to the Whipping Post the following morning. Still protesting her innocence, she was taken to the small house, used for the extra hands during the round up, and locked inside. There she sat all night, trying not to think about the horror morning would bring.

All too soon, the door was unlocked and Hlubi, the old head servant, entered. "It is time, Missy," he said. Resigned to this moment, Melissa stood and took a step toward the door. Hlubi held up a hand, stopping her. "You are to remove your blouse first, Missy. The Inkosana, the little master, has ordered that you are to walk to the post bare to the waist. Please, Missy. You have to leave your shirt here. Either you do it yourself, or I have to do it by force. I . . . I would rather not have to do that. Please, Missy, it is time to go and his instructions must be followed."

The young Boer girl could see both the reluctance and determination in his eyes. She knew that nothing would be accomplished by fighting here—at best, she would only delay the inevitable and at worst, well, there would be two floggings this day and Hlubi had always been kind to her. Her hands rose to the drawstring at her neck. It took a conscious effort to stop their trembling. After undoing the knot, it took only a minute to open the buttons down its front and husk the well-worn blouse from her shoulders. Beneath it she wore only a simple bandeau of cloth crossing her breasts and tied in back. She reluctantly reached behind to work at its knot. Soon it, too, opened and she dropped the cloth on the bunk. Melissa's upper body was now naked and she saw Hlubi look away in embarrassment. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, but he said, "Hands at your sides, Missy. The Inkosana was very clear. He wants you exposed when you walk to the Post."

"B-But why?" she said plaintively, her arms slowly lowering. "Just to see me like this?"

Hlubi could not meet her eyes. "That . . .and . . . and I think he wants to hurt you." He gestured toward her chest. "Hurt you there, I mean."

The pretty redhead's arms flew back up to cup and hide her bare breasts at his words and a chill ran through her. Oh god, oh god, she thought. Of course. She would be facing the Whipping Post for the flogging she knew, but with her hands tied up high there would be little protection for her titties and the sjambok had a long reach. With the Old Man gone, there was nothing to stop Kyle from ordering that the lash extend around to sting the tender sides of her globes. She had hurt and frustrated him and he was used to getting his own way. And he was cruel.

"Sorry, Missy. I am very sorry, but we must go now. Try to be strong."

Melissa took a deep breath to gather her courage, dropped her arms, and forced herself to walk past him through the door into the yard. Oh god!

Just a week past her eighteenth birthday, Melissa Meuws was a lovely young woman with a stunning, newly ripened female body. She had a heart-shaped pixie face, high cheekbones, and eyes a clear sky blue. A light splash of freckles crossed cheeks, nose, and neck before decorating the top of her proud bust. Just over five feet tall, she had matured young and filled her blouse and skirt with ample promise of the lush feminine flesh beneath. In the bright sunlight, the glorious rose-cream of her skin seemed to glow. Now bared to the waist, the maid's lovely nude tits thrust out from her torso like ripe pears with no hint of sag. The mounds were capped with broad coral-red domes that rose separately away from the creamy skin. The tips grew out to hardening points as a light breeze caressed them. The petite girl stood rigidly erect as she walked, rippling lines showing clear beneath her pale skin, highlighting the taut muscles beneath her concave belly and legs. Years of hard work had pared her form of any excess fat, although her curves were still nicely rounded. Carried low on her slim hips, the home-spun skirt rode just beneath the dainty puckered navel.

The sun was very bright coming from the dark room, so she lifted a hand to shade her eyes, unaware of the erotic way the motion lifted her right breast. She saw the estate's Whipping Post fifty paces away, seven feet of ominous mahogany, and hesitated. The other servants were assembled there already to witness the punishment, as were Kyle Blore and Bette Marlborough, niece of a neighboring rancher. They were both on horseback and watching her intently. Melissa found that the presence of the white girl embarrassed her more than that of Kyle and the black servants. Then Hlubi gently pushed against her back, pointing towards the post. Dropping her hand and squaring her shoulders, Melissa Meuws started walking toward the Whipping Post.

Kyle saw the movement at the small house. So, the wench had finally come out. He saw her stop, just standing in the mid-morning sunshine. One hand was up to shield her eyes from the glare and he could see that his orders had been carried out—the young Boer girl was totally and gloriously nude to the waist. He could plainly make out the ruddy disks of her nipples against the creamy skin. He shivered in anticipation and felt his sex stirring beneath his trousers. I've waited a long time for this, you haughty bitch. The elderly servant touched her shoulder and pointed forward, falling in behind like an escort.

Kyle and Bette watched avidly as the lovely redhead strode towards the punishment ground, eyes straight and shoulders back. She walked proudly erect, but with that sinuous motion all women are born with. Her thrusting white globes jiggled provocatively to each slow step, swaying delicately from side to side. From a distance, the maid looked brave and resolute, but her lower lip was trembling in fearful anticipation of the ordeal facing her. She had witnessed several whippings during her time working at Kleine Kraal and always felt nauseated after they were done and the bleeding victim was left twitching and moaning against the bloodstained wood. Melissa could see young Blore leaning forward in his saddle with that sweet-smelling tart from the next ranch beside him. So there would be an audience. Kyle was not going to spare her the least indignity.

Soon she drew near the dreaded Whipping Post, a tall dark trunk set firmly in the ground. Large iron eye-bolts were buried into the wood at various points down its length. The dark hardwood carried still darker stains, memorials from past beatings. Kleine Kraal's flogger, a large, muscular Matabele named Mbane, stood waiting beside it, holding the fearful sjambok in his hands, forty inches of cured, supple hippo hide tapering to a split tip. It could easily slice the skin like a knife, but in the hands of a master like Mbane that wouldn't happen until he was ready.

Once she reached the Post, Melissa looked up at it with loathing. Swallowing her terror with effort, she turned away towards her accuser. She stood with as much dignity her 5' 2" permitted, her beautiful bare breasts thrust arrogantly out from her chest in the hot morning sunlight. Kyle Blore walked his horse up a little and leaned on the pommel.

"Melissa Meuws, you were caught stealing. As acting laird while my father is away, I order that you receive the maximum discipline allowed: five dozen strokes with the sjambok!"

"You know the truth, Kyle Blore!" she threw at him. "You know I'm innocent, you pig! Just because I wouldn't submit to your filthy touch--”

"The guilty always lie," Kyle interrupted blandly. "You only seek to delay your just punishment. Mbane, secure her to the post! I grow bored with her protestations."

The huge African d****d his cruel whip casually over the girl's shoulders while he locked broad leather cuffs tightly around each wrist. Even though it was already warm, her body shivered making her two milk-white beauties tremble between her arms. The redhead looked tiny next to the muscular Matabele. Once finished, he turned her around and pushed her up against the post, the dark wood warm against her chest. Raising the captive arms high, he crossed her wrists before tying them off to the top ring-bolts with stout cords. Melissa noticed the positioning, but thought that it was just some minor enhancement for her discomfort. Kyle rejoined Bette and they nudged their mounts closer to get a better view. As her wrists were raised and tied, the full white breasts pulled up on her chest and pressed against the post. Kyle's prick swelled up harder in his pants at the sight and had to lift up in the saddle to reposition it. Bette saw him and her lips curled into a little smile. Kyle had seen them push against her blouse and sampled their fullness during his one grope, but now the sight of them naked—and the knowledge that they would soon feel the lash—stimulated him powerfully. The pretty Boer girl's nipples kept their shape as the tits rode up, sticking out from the two beauties like coral-hued mushrooms. Gads! He had seen puffy nipples like that on some of the plantation women, but never pink ones on a pretty white girl and the image stirred his loins painfully.

It took only a moment before Mbane was done. He dragged the sjambok free from her shoulders and the girl shivered in dread anticipation. She had seen what the whip could do, but at least she would be taking it over her back. Just the slick touch of it slithering over her flesh made her feel sick with loathing.

Kyle gestured to the Matabele, eager now for the show to begin. Mbane nodded and shook out the whip behind him. He looked over at the expanse of milky white skin waiting for him and chose a spot. His arm rose and then, with a powerful motion, he swept the sjambok forward to deliver the first whistling slash across the girl's shoulder blades.

"Uhnnnn," Melissa grunted and her body jerked sharply. She had determined during the night that she would deny Kyle the satisfaction of crying out under the beating, but the sudden, searing line of pain across her back drew the sound unbidden. Einah! No stranger to the switch, she knew the sjambok would be much worse, but the reality of that difference was shocking. The supple lash seemed to cling to her skin a moment before it fell away, leaving only fire behind. How would she ever withstand sixty such strokes? Her thoughts were brutally interrupted by the next lash, a lightning bolt of heat that cut over her lower back just above the hips, bisecting the pert sacral dimples. The split tip snapped sharply against the exquisitely tender skin of her contoured side, biting a tiny hole in the soft flesh and starting a small drip of liquid scarlet oozing down towards her hip. The redhead twitched in response and again held the cry of pain back only with great effort. Kyle grinned hugely at the erotic sight before him. Seeing the shiny bead of blood on the girl's pale skin raised his already considerable excitement. Every time the cured hippo hide whip sliced over the wench's back, her lusty female body would jerk and writhe against the tall post. His eyes kept returning to the dancing white globe of her right breast. It would leap and jiggle like a thing apart of her, the cream color a delightful contrast to the dark stained wood, and he felt his sex push against the front of his pants in response. Mbane varied the timing and placement of his strokes, sweeping three rapid cuts to her shoulders and then waiting one, two, or three long moments before applying the next slash to some new soft virgin spot, allowing her anticipation to add to her terror. Brilliant red and rising weals left a vivid testimony to the power of the flogging and small droplets of bloody fluid leaked slowly from spots where the skin had abraded or the snake's-tongue tip had cracked it open. A fine sheen of agony-sweat coated Melissa's upper torso now, making the fine feminine curves shine and sparkle in the bright South African sun.

Bette Marlborough was excited as well, her loins hot and wet under her riding skirt. The sheer decadence of the show in front of her was stirring her passion in a way she had never dreamed possible. Her father wouldn't permit the whip on his ranch, so she was only just discovering this side of her feelings. She had been Kyle's guest twice before to watch as two natives, a man and a woman, were tied to the Post and their backs flayed. It excited her, but a white girl under the lash was something special, and she had decided to make a play for Kyle Blore soon after it began. Such a marriage would increase her wealth and also promised a lifetime of diversions such as this. She could see the hard bulge in the front of his trousers and knew he was just as turned on as she was. Soon, she thought. Soon, but not yet. She leaned over and whispered into his ear, "That fat booby of hers has you entranced, Kyle dear. Why not see if it's as sensitive as it looks?"

He looked back at her, pleased by the look of lust in her eyes. "Don't worry, pet, I haven't forgotten about those plump titties of hers. Oh no. I have something very special in mind for them, but just to make you happy . . .”

He signaled to Mbane with one hand. The Matabele saw it and nodded; the Inkosana had told him what he wanted the night before. Mbane leaned forward into the next stroke, slipping the pointed end a little further around to snap viciously against the outside of her right breast. Melissa let out a hissing gasp of shock and her narrow back arched sharply in reaction. Damn damn damn, that hurt! Even though she was topless and her titties were vulnerable, she had been certain that the whipping would be only on her back, like when they disciplined the house servants. True, they sometimes turned a pretty female slave around to lash her front if she was young and large there, but that was just man-play with a darkie. Even though a Boer, she was still a white woman and such things were not supposed to happen. She would soon learn just how far wrong she was.

"Oooo, yes," Bette said in a husky voice. "I thought that would get her attention. A woman is very sensitive there, almost as much as her—well, you know." She blushed demurely. "It's too bad we can't see her bottom and thighs, too. I bet they would look pretty wearing stripes!" Kyle grinned back at her. He kicked his horse and walked it up to the far side of the post. Melissa stared around it at him with hate-filled eyes, yet also shamed by her uncontrollable tears. He glanced down to her chest, stirred by the sight of the two sweat-shiny globes bulging to either side of the pole. He could clearly see the rising red weal curving around the right one from behind. That must have hurt. Then another stroke crossed her back while he sat there and the girl lunged against the pole in reaction. Kyle grinned. This was even better than he imagined it would be! Then another stroke left a line of pain right where her skirt ended low on her loins and her body jumped against the post again. There was long delay and then the sjambok flew again, the twelfth stroke, and again Mbane swept it out long to score the girl's right globe, this time scoring it along the full bottom curve. Although shamefully aware of the man's eyes on her, Melissa just couldn't control her maddened spasm of agony—it was all she could do to check the scream that wanted so badly to come out.

Kyle moved his mount closer, stopping Mbane with a hand. “Well, are you ready yet to apologize for slapping me? To ask—no beg, beg me to take you to my bed? That's only the first dozen strokes and the sentence is four more. I can stop it now, you know. All you have to do is beg me for a fucking. Come on, beg me to take you to my bed and I'll stop the pain."

"Never!" she snarled up at him, chest heaving. "I would sooner die than submit to such a thing! You're a pig, Kyle Blore, and I will never beg!"

"No, you won't die, bitch. Although you may well be pleading for that before Mbane is finished. First you'll scream and then you'll beg."

"Never!"

Bitch!” The man reined back and glared over at the whipper. "Continue! Whip her some more! There's still four dozen to go and I want her to wail!"

SWACKKT! SCRACKT! SWACCCK! Melissa writhed impotently at the post as the next six strokes carved her back from hips to neck. Through her tears, she could see Kyle and the Marlborough woman staring at her from the saddle. Mbane made sure that every one of them ended along her tender side, starting high into the tender armpit and working down. He knew from past experience just how agonizing the lash was there. A few times the split tip left small, painful rips behind and each one soon dribbled thin runnels of blood to her hip. The seventh returned to the side bulge of her right tit, biting like a snake's tongue around the ripe curve. The pain was atrocious and she could not stop her mincing dance before the post. She twisted her torso to her left, pressing the stinging right gourd against the dark wood to deny it to the lash, but Mbane had been expecting the move—he was well experienced in whipping women—and just stepped quickly to the side to deliver a crisp backhand stroke with the sjambok that kissed the now fully exposed left breast, leaving a pair of tiny holes a centimeter from the tender coral aureole. She gasped and swung back but Mbane had already resumed his original position for the next cut which again stung the right gourd. At this point, Kyle called for another break in the beating.

Kyle nudged the horse up closer beside her. "A special target for you now, Mbane!" he ordered. Then, swinging low from the saddle, he grabbed the hem of Melissa Meuws skirt and lifted it high, exposing her bottom. She wore a frayed pair of mid-thigh pantaloons underneath, her only store bought garment. The flimsy cotton did little to hide the fine compact melons shifting beneath. "Six on her arse now and put your back into it. I want to see her bottom bleed!"

"N-No, you mustn't! It's not right! You can't do this! I'm no kaffir wench and this is wronUUNNHH!" The hissing strike of the sjambok stopped the protest in her mouth abruptly. The flogger pulled back at the last moment so only the final foot of his whip struck the taut rounded buttocks. She lurched against the unyielding wood in response to the sudden pain with shocked squeal. The sjambok cut through her flimsy pantaloons and the flesh beneath like a knife, leaving a shallow tear behind. A bright line of blood started staining the white fabric even before the next lash flew. It crossed the buttocks at a slightly different angle to leave a new bleeding laceration in its wake.

The redhead's face was already flushed with shame at the embarrassing exposure, but the searing pain of the sjambok slicing across her bottom brought her back to the immediacy of her predicament. SCRACKT! Another hot whip cut bisected the broadest expanse of the girl's clenching ass cheeks and Melissa pressed against the wood, hopping from foot to foot and fighting the desire to scream. Mbane sent each new lash down to carve the firm hillocks, leaving fresh lines of fire behind. Each stroke was delivered so as to slice through the flimsy pantalloons and the top layer of skin beneath. The last of the six went just a bit lower to carve the tender flesh of her upper thighs just under the round melons and Kyle laughed at the mincing dance of pain her small bare feet performed. Yet she still wouldn't scream. Damn the bitch! The rancher dropped the skirt angrily. Very well, my pretty, he thought, I'll hear you wail yet! No lousy Boer slut turns me down. I'll teach you your place. You'll beg before I'm through with you! Melissa looked back over her shoulder and saw him ride back to talk to the flogger. Mbane nodded, set down the whip, and approached her. Melissa mistakenly sagged against the post in relief. I've done it, she thought. Withstood the unjust flogging without breaking. But she had lost count of the strokes in her pain and seriously underestimated Blore's frustration. The large Matabele grabbed her arms near the wrists and she reached higher so he could undo her cuffs easier, but instead the maid felt her torso being twisted roughly around so that she now faced out, her aching back pressed against the mahogany.

"Wha-What are you doing?!" the redhead protested loudly. "This isn't right! No! It's over! Let me go! Let me go! Oh oh oh, not like this! Not on my front! No, it's wrong! Let me go, I say!"

Mbane didn't say a word, but quickly moved behind the mahogany pole. He reached around and yanked Melissa's feet out from under her. He pulled her ankles back roughly behind the Post then quickly tied her feet sole to sole with a short cord. The girl's tattered skirt dropped down off her hips during the repositioning and now stretched across her thighs, so Mbane took a knife and just cut it away. Now the lovely young redhead's sole garment was her flimsy, store-bought pantalloons. There were little frills around the bottoms, just above the knees, a sight Kyle found strangely arousing. In back, her bloodied back and ass rubbed against the post, adding to its myriad stains. Kyle walked his horse up again. He smiled.

"No, my haughty little Boer, it's not over. Not by a long shot! And I have no intention of letting you go, either. Your plump titties just beg for the whip's caresses, and they shall feel them! Ever since I first saw them last year when I caught you bathing at the river, I've wanted to see them up close and naked, wanted to touch them. But you wouldn't let me. Me! Soon I will be Lord of this entire plantation!” Leaning down from his saddle, he dropped his voice. “You've remained remarkably quiet up to now. I'm actually impressed, but I want to see how brave you are now that you are facing the sjambok! You know what that means, don't you, 'Lissa? Now you take the whip on your pretty tits!” He turned back to the whipper. “The bitch has three dozen more to go, Mbane! Stripe her pretty belly up well now! I will have another target for you soon!"

Melissa suddenly felt very vulnerable and very, very exposed. She squirmed back against the dark wood, desperate to somehow hide her front, but there was no hiding the arrogant thrust of her lusty young tits and she blushed furiously in shame at the young laird's lascivious leer. The pretty Boer girl was absolutely helpless, hanging against the Whipping Post with her naked upper torso bared for the lash and she shivered in fear.

The muscular African picked up the cruel sjambok and resumed his position behind her. His black eyes ate up the sight of the white girl's lusty bare breasts. Her buttocks were far too small for his liking, but her titties were very nicely fleshed. This was the first time he had been given a white woman to flog and he found her plump tits curiously arousing. Other than the sun-browned forearms the skin of her front would show the marks of the whip very nicely. The terrified captive looked wildly around her, but there was to be no rescue. She saw Kyle sitting his horse next to the Bette Marlborough again. The Englishwoman's hand was moving now over his crotch, undoing the laces holding his trousers closed. All about were the other servants, some shamed and looking away, but most watched the show; many had been punished in the past for trivial offenses and it was enjoyable to see the hated sjambok applied to a white back. That she now faced the lash was an even more exciting thing to see.

A sudden, cool breeze blew over Melissa's naked torso raising goose bumps on her skin and visibly hardening her coral nipples in the bright sunlight. All her weight hung from the chaffing wrist cuffs and her mounds had risen high on her chest from the arms-up binding. With the wind evaporating her sweat, the teats pinched up hard in their centers, looking like pert pink little mountains.

Off to her right, Mbane pulled back his arm and then the bloody sjambok flew through the air to slice harshly across her softly rounded belly. Now that she was facing the other way, her untouched left side was available to the split tip. A young woman's sides are extremely sensitive and Mbane's cruel tactic of attacking them with the sjambok's fangs added a white-hot punctuation to the end of every stroke. Lash followed lash and bright red welts appeared over her abdomen, stomach, and ribcage as if painted by a mad artist. Melissa gasped to the whistling strokes and her white form writhed on the unyielding Whipping Post, making the high perched bare breasts wobble wildly on her chest. As before, the native flogger varied the interval between his cuts, so the helpless wench couldn't anticipate any set rhythm. Her head twisted and tossed as she struggled to endure the whipping in silence making her auburn tresses fly across her shoulders and upper chest. Finally, the last of the third dozen raked the maid's taut ribs and Mbane lowered his arm. Melissa sagged back against the post.

Kyle approached again, looking down at the moaning young girl. A pattern of angry scarlet weals crossed the curves and planes of her belly and abdomen, highlighting the gleaming white globes above. He waved a hand in front of her face to get her attention. After a long moment, she gathered herself and looked back up at him. Despite the tears, there was still defiance there, still contempt. He lowered his eyes to admire the superb bust and rounded coral nipples. Melissa followed his gaze and shivered in horror. There were still two dozen lashes remaining and she was very conscious of her protruding chest. Confirming her fears, he reached down to fondle one breast, bouncing it then rolling the erect nipple between his fingertips. Grinning, he released it and wheeled his horse back to Bette's side.

"Do you remember that special bit I promised? Well, it's time, pet. This will really be fun! Now we'll see her really squirm! Apply your whip to those proud titties now, Mbane! No deep wounds, but make sure the wench feels them! Oh, and get her hair out of the way first. I want to see them clearly and there must be no protection, none! I want her broken, screaming! Now begin, and make those titties dance!"

The huge Negro took a moment to pull the long auburn tresses behind Melissa's neck and shoulders. Then, to make sure that she couldn't shake them back over her tits again, he took an inch-wide leather strap and used it to bind her head to the post. Now her head was immobilized so couldn't even turn it and her sky-blue eyes darted back and forth in helpless fear. Her back, ass, and belly still burned terribly from their beating. Now it was time for her beautiful nude breasts to feel the sjambok's hot kisses and she was absolutely helpless to protect them! From the time they had bloomed on her chest, the proudly capped gourds had proven to be exquisitely sensitive. A year ago cute Jens Kruger had enticed her behind the barn, kissing and coaxing her out of her blouse. Just the feel of the boy's hand fondling her there made her tingle and the junction of her thighs fill with moist warmth. Now the huge Matabele was taking aim at them with the hideous rhino-hide whip and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Staring ahead, she saw his muscular arm draw slowly back. Dear God, how would she ever endure the pain!

There was a dark flash low in her captive gaze, then SMACKKT! and a sudden line of white-hot agony carved across both tender bottom curves. “Uuuuuuhhhhnnnn,” she grunted and tears flooded her eyes again. She had wanted to remain absolutely stoic throughout the punishment, but oh the pain, the pain! The sweet responsiveness of her poor bare breasts, meant for the thrill of a lover, was now being used to bring her intolerable anguish. The girl's lusty semi-nude body writhed lasciviously at the insane burning in her chest. She was still gulping for air when with a SWACKKT! a second line of fire cut diagonally over her chest, catching lower right and upper left and the young female's body contorted again.

From his vantage point, Kyle had a perfect view of the action and was enjoying it immensely. Moments earlier, he groaned when Bette deftly unbuttoned his fly and freed the swollen organ inside to the sun and breeze. Now her slim fingers were gently gliding up and down the rigid shaft, playing with him as they both watched the lurid scene unfold. Mbane delivered a fourth stroke and a fifth, each new lash setting the pointed globes heaving and leaving a bright red weal behind on the milky skin. With wrists, head, and feet bound, Melissa was quite helpless, but her topless form still managed to writhe deliciously against the dark wood. The maid's desperate motions only served to launch her two high perched globes into an endless dance of suffering. The sixth slash embraced the sweat-shiny tits once more, returning to the two bulging under curves a finger's-breadth from the aureoles. Even though there was now no way for Melissa to even attempt to hide her breasts from the lash, Mbane still moved across for the occasional backhand stroke. He was continuing to adjust his reach so the split tip could find new spots to crack open along both of her taut sides and start a few more lines of blood dribbling down. Two particularly bitter cuts were aimed high on her naked torso to bite into each tender armpit in turn and drawing especially loud groans. Staring at the erotic scene, Kyle moaned along with Melissa as Bette expertly milked a heavy drop of fluid from his swollen glans. She dipped her head to lick it away just as Mbane swept the sjambok down to both smooth upper slopes and the girl twisted again. He couldn't believe how wonderful the erotic sensations rippling down through his rigid penis felt under the English girl's deft manipulation, but he was also growing extremely angry with the Boer wench's stubbornness. There were only f******n strokes left and the bitch still wouldn't scream! As if reading his mind, Bette leaned over and whispered into his ear. She heard him chuckle. “Yes. Yes, an excellent thought!

"Hold your arm, Mbane!” he called. “I know something that will make her more repentant!" He slid smoothly from the saddle and strode to the post, so intent that he didn't care that his erection was clearly exposed between his legs. As soon as he reached the bound maiden, his hands rose to her breasts and fondled the nude globes roughly. "I've waited long enough to finally have these naked and get a good feel of them! They're soft, very soft, and very pretty. I bet they're very sensitive, eh? I bet the whip really hurts when it kisses them, too?" He drew sharp gasps from the panting girl by tracing the rising red welts with one fingernail. Soon his attentions were drawn to the rosy pink mushroom caps at their tips. Kyle pinched the spongy buttons and toyed with their flinty points, flicking them up and down. She couldn't see it, but he was close enough that the prisoner on the post could feel his sex pressing lewdly against her right thigh while his hands were groping her breasts and shivered in revulsion. His smiling face lifted from her tits and without thinking she spit into right into it!

The young rancher jerked back as if struck. "BITCH!," he snarled. He wiped the spittle away with one hand while viciously grabbing and twisting Melissa's left pap with the other. "You arrogant bitch! That little trick just earned you a ride on the Bishop's Horse! But not yet, oh no, not just yet! Not while the sjambok still has kisses left to give. And I have a little idea that should make those kisses even more painful. This will break your pride, 'Lissa girl. I told you you would scream for me before I'm through and you will! Oh, yes, you will!"

Kyle reached into a shirt pocket and removed a case of vestas. He saw her eyes grow wide as the realization hit. The girl threw all of her strength at her wrist, fighting madly to somehow break free, but the ropes were much too strong and all she managed to do was squirm impotently in the sun. He fished one of the little sticks out and struck it against the box until the tip blossomed into a sulfurous flame. His left hand pushed the cute redhead against the post, her torso steady. Cupping the match in his palm against the light breeze, Kyle brought the burning end up and began passing it slowly beneath the large coral nipple of her left breast.

"HUUUUUNNNNNNNNNN! AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! S-S-STOP, STOP! AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! OH, IT BURNS! IT BURNS! OH, YOU PIG! YOU VILE PIG! STOP IT! The teenager just couldn't keep her cries in check at this cruel and unexpected attack. She fought against his hand, but was powerless to escape the savage heat attacking her nipple. The flickering yellow flame licked up at the coral dome, searing the tightly clustered nerve endings. He was able to burn the rigid teat as well before the match reached his fingers and he tossed it down with a curse. She saw another flash of light and he returned to the right summit, roasting the upper semicircle this time, holding the yellow flame close to the coral dome. Melissa tried desperately to escape the inhuman pain and cursed him again, but was too firmly held. He dropped the match before it burned his fingers this time then examined the effect. The vesta had had raised numerous tiny blisters across the aureole and down the flinty shaft of the teat, creating an exquisite burning pain. Down below, he could feel his penis twitching up between his legs in delight at the girl's ghastly sexual suffering.

It took three of the mundane, yet horribly effective, implements before Kyle was satisfied with his treatment of the delicate left pap. Her pretty blue eyes rolled in her head and new tears streamed down the young girl's freckled cheeks and she was forced to cry out once more during the burning of this nipple, yet she still managed to keep from breaking. As soon as she caught her breath the teenager cursed him like a voortrekker between each gasp, aggravating him even further. He struck one more match and used it to under her sensitive teats a final time, again concentrating on them so much that the flame burned his fingertips again. Kyle stuck his fingers in his mouth to soothe the pain there. She had cried out during the nipple searing, but the uncontrolled screams and pleas for mercy hadn't come. Stubborn bitch! Still, from the look on her face he knew those pink caps must be really hurting. Let's see if you can endure the sjambok's kisses on them now!

She felt his erection nudge against the front of her pantaloons as he moved in close and nuzzled at her neck. “Just so you know,” he murmured in her ear, “I wouldn't stop your whipping now even if you did beg me to take you. I'm having too much fun watching the sjambok caress your body. I never thought it would be this good. Can you feel what your suffering has done to me? No, you don't have to answer, I can feel your hips trying to squirm away. He moved behind the post and reached around with his hands to find her tits again, cupping and squeezing the soft pears and smiling at the feel of the hardening welts on their surfaces. Soon his fingers came up to her seared and aching nipples again, thrilling to their heat and the pimply spread of aching fire blisters across the disks. He leaned forward to whisper to her again. He pinched the swelling teats and was rewarded with a sharp hiss of protest. "Remember the Bishop's Horse, bitch" he snarled, "I don't want you to forget, but that's later. No, it's what's coming next that you should be thinking about now. Your nipples feel hot. I bet the fire there really hurt, eh? To tell you the truth, it was Bette who suggested it to me.” He chuckled. “She doesn't like you. I think she's jealous; her titties aren't nearly as big as yours. I wouldn't have thought of it. I was already having a great time just watching them jiggle from the sjambok. I guess it takes a woman to know the best way to hurt a woman, eh?” He rolled the hard buds between thumb and forefinger, relishing her mewling sound of pain. Well, you've got f******n more strokes from the sjambok coming and I'm going to tell Mbane to aim them all right here where my fingers are playing with you. That's right, my beauty, now Mbane is going to flog your titties right on these pretty nipples with his nasty whip. Now you'll wish you had given your them to me freely when you had the chance!"

His hands left her flesh and he returned to his horse, rigid phallus sticking out in front, and mounted, careful to keep it clear of the saddle. He walked the a****l to the waiting Matabele. "Whip her on those pretty titty tips now, Mbane! I want them to hurt. I want them to hurt bad and I want to hear her scream!"

Oh no, no, no, Melissa's mind churned in terror. Stretched by her own weight, back arched by the unyielding post, whipped bare breasts heaving on her ribcage, and her nipples, her poor blistered nipples, protruding out as if begging for attention, her every sense was focused on her plight. The pain so far had been beyond belief and now the it would be even worse! She jerked at the wrist cuffs again with no more success than before and didn't even notice the pain in her chafed wrists. The large negro moved back to his place. She instinctively tried to turn and follow the motion, but the strap on her forehead held firm and all she could do was stare straight forward with fearful eyes.

There was the briefest of warning from her peripheral vision as the sjambok flew through the air and then Melissa Meuws' world burst blinding white-hot pain. The Matabele sent a powerful horizontal stroke across the very centers of her jutting tits, striking both nude nipples viciously.

"HHHHHUUUUUNNNNNN! OW! OW! OW!" The young redhead barely kept a full-lunged wail of absolute misery behind her lips. Sweat burst from her pores, making her body gleam in the brilliant yellow sun. The venomous lash ravaged the cruelly irritated nerves, sending bolts of fiery lightning through the rosy peaks. Melissa's delectable torso heaved to her desperate gulps of air. SSSCRACKT! There was no warning at all this time. Mbane sent another whistling cut to the jutting gourds, this time so the split tip burst against the left cap. Only seconds later it struck again, returning diabolically to the same swollen red nipple and shredding open a couple of the hard little blisters. He crossed over and delivered the next backhand stroke with consummate skill to strike the girl's seared right pap.

It was a scene out of medieval times: A young female, stripped to the waist and bound with her back to the Whipping Post. Lovely globes bared to the hot afternoon sun and and relentless caress of the sjambok. The air split from the whispering slice of leather through the air, then the loud, wet SMACKT of the lash slapping ferociously home on tender female flesh. Finally, the ageless dance of the whip; the frantic, desperate, wild contortions of a young naked woman fighting to escape and somehow withstand her excruciating pain, pain barbarously aimed at the most sensitive parts of her body. The end of the whip was bloodied from the leaks along her sides. The great brute swung again to the jutting nude breasts and the lurid display of sexual torture continued.

Bette Marlborough could see that Kyle was extremely aroused by the way his rigid penis twitched in her fingers. She had to admit that she was also; once the Boer had been turned around and the sjambok started crossing her front, she found herself grinding her crotch against the saddle to increase the delightful sensations there. She decided it was time to set her hook. Grasping the base tightly, she leaned over and kissed the tip of the young man's throbbing erection and heard him gasp with the new pleasure. She parted her lips and slowly, oh so slowly, slid them lightly up and down the shaft, fellating him expertly. Bette's mother had explained how to do it, telling her that it was the best way to land a wealthy husband, something the high-bred competition wouldn't think of doing. That was how a dressmaker's daughter won a rich South African rancher, she laughed. Kyle gripped her hair with his right hand, controlling her motions, but his eyes were glued to the scene at the post. The pretty young Boer's body was jerking wildly to the scant limit of her bonds as lash after lash curled over her protruding bare breasts. Numerous bright red welts now crossed their very middles, each one finding some part of the puffed up nipples. Clear fluid streaked with scarlet from cracked open blisters oozed down over the lower curves of both shuddering globes. SMACKKT! After the briefest interval, the supple tongue of rhino hide struck brutally across both distended aureoles before the miserable girl had fully absorbed the previous stroke. With her legs wrapped behind the Post, her back was forced against the wood and there was no give, making the whip strikes over her front sting even more ferociously. Her eyes were darting about in terror and her mouth gaped like a fish on the shore. Sweat poured down her lithe body from the agony and enormous effort of enduring the savage torture. SCRACKKT! The pointed tip exploded against the very center of her left pap, ripping a hole open at the base of the teat and drawing the first real blood from the sensitive nipple. At long last, her final reserve of strength cracked and Melissa finally broke under the prolonged inhuman breast torture.

"AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!" she shrieked loudly. "NO MORE, NO MORE, NO MORE! AAAAAAAHHHHHH, IT HURTS, IT HURTS! HIIIIEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! P-PLEASE, NO MORE! I'LL DO IT! I'LL DO IT, JUST MAKE IT STOP! OH, MY POOR TITTIES! PLEASE! THEY HURT SO MUCH, SO MUCH! I'LL DO ANYTHING, ANYTHING YOU WANT! I'LL BEG! I'LL BEG! PLEASE TAKE ME! P-P-PLEASE! TAKE ME! ONLY MAKE IT STOP! DEAR GOD, MAKE IT STOPPPPP!"

Kyle had been very close to coming in Bette's warm, wet mouth. He felt the surge growing and there was no way he was going to stop now. "Continue the torture of her breasts!" he cried, hoarse with passion. "She gets the full five dozen! Continue!"

His words penetrated Melissa's fevered mind. "No! Oh, no, no, please noOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWAAAHHHHH! EEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! NO MORE, NO MORE, NO MORE!" Ignoring the girl's frantic pleas, Kyle just stared as the Matabele crossed to Melissa's left and swept a vicious backhand cut to her proud right globe and nipple. His aim was true, but it still took a second such stroke before that tit's swollen cap split and sprayed crimson like its twin.

"HIEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH! AAAAAAOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWW!" Now that Melissa's resistance had shattered, each fresh lash wrenched piercing screams of unendurable suffering from her powerful young lungs. After having withstood so much shame and pain with dignity, the hideous sensation of having her sensitive nude nipples burned and beaten until they bled had completely mastered crushed her control. All the pent up suffering so expensively bought over the past hour now burst through the ruptured levee. Now she wished only for an end to the hideous torture of her tits. She would beg, she would grovel, she would spread her legs like a Bantu bride if it would only stop the intolerable pain!

But there was no stop, no escape, no end. Mbane moved to Melissa's front so he could attack the jutting turrets with a pair of snapping vertical strokes to the very tip of each to find the upper surface of both teats. Fresh shrieks of inhuman suffering roared from her throat at the blinding pain that exploded through her seared nude nipples at each slash. Kyle leaned back in the saddle and lifted his hips to better present his rigid penis to Bette's imaginative tongue and mouth play as he watched the cruel tit torture go on.

SCRACKKKT! "IIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!

SWACKKT! "OOOOOOOWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! MY BREASTS, MY POOR BREASTS! F-FUCK ME! PLEASE FUCK ME! ANYTHING, JUST STOP HURTING MY POOR TITTIES!”

SWACKKT! "HIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" Now shiny tendrils of blood oozed down over both bulging lower curves. Bright droplets flew as the titties cavorted on her chest. Now there were only three strokes to go and Mbane, back on her right side, applied a full-arm swing that caught both seared aureoles and abraded their upper crescents, drawing yet more blood and yet louder squeals. Finishing with this ghastly focus on such tender portions of her body was inhuman, the agony intolerable in its sexual intensity.

Bette could sense Kyle's excitement and squeezed the base of his prick tightly to delay the imminent explosion. He grabbed her head with both hands, but she brushed them away, taking complete control now. She started swirling her little tongue around his glans, teasing the achingly sensitive ring around its edge.

SCRACKT! The Matabele swept another raking slash over the helpless redhead's bloated nipples, scouring their undersides this time. The miserable teenager shrieked, her sweaty female form thrashed on the post making her large, whip-wealed titties heave on her chest. The sjambok burst most of the remaining blisters on the swollen nipples with this cut, misting scarlet to the impact. Melissa's shrieks ripped out, broken only by her gasps of breath, and there were no longer any intelligible words; indeed, they were so raw and strident that they no longer sounded even human. SCRACKT! The Matabele swept another raking slash over the helpless redhead's bloated nipples, scouring their undersides this time.

Kyle Blore lost his control at the same time. Bette sensed it and started bobbing her head up and down over his cock. Her cheeks curved in sharply as she sucked on the man's throbbing sex. Melissa's heart-wrenching screams, the sight of her lusty nude body writhing and bleeding under the whip, and Bette's strong nursing finally triggered his orgasm. He let out a long low groan of ecstasy, then gripped Bette's head with both hands and held it down on his crotch as the first hot liquid waves of pleasure shot up through his penis into her mouth and his back arched in the saddle. Each rapid spasm shot a new spurt down her throat and his accelerating gasps for breath quickly matched those of the screaming girl on the Whipping Post. Bette Marlborough felt her own orgasm flow through her loins, sweet and hot, but continued sucking, swallowing every molten jet, something else her mother had told her to do. Eyes slitted almost closed from the intense erotic pleasure, Kyle didn't even see the final lash of the sixty punish Melissa's breasts. Again mirroring the agonized girl, his contractions gradually faded with her screams.

Bette lifted her head from Kyle's groin and dabbed her mouth with a handkerchief. It didn't taste too bad; Mama was right about that, too. Kyle's breathing slowed. She straightened her skirt primly with a small smile on her face. Kyle was older than she, but now she felt vastly more mature. She was also very aware of how her movements made her slip on the leather saddle. Like the boy—that was how she thought of him now--beside her, she was amazed by the powerful enjoyment she felt from watching the pretty young Boer's torture. She wanted more of it, but was confident now that she would have no difficulty getting Kyle to do as she wished.

Blore smiled. The day's entertainment had already been better than he had imagined—and he had imagined a very enjoyable day, indeed. Melissa Meuws had delivered a superb performance on the Whipping Post, arrogant and stubborn, but still begging for him to fuck her in the end under the inhuman pain. Bette's suggestion to burn the girl's nipples and her unexpected knowledge of “French Play" had come as a marvelous surprise. Her mouth to gave him a memorable orgasm and he could still feel his sex tingling. And there was still more fun to come! He hadn't thought much about it when Bette started her delightful play, but now he remembered. During a moment of haughty pride, the stupid wench had had the temerity to spit in his face, so he had impulsively added a ride on the Bishop's Horse to her punishment. Even after her long ordeal, he still felt the resentment of her rejection and the feel of her spittle on his face. Besides, is was so much fun watching and listening to her suffer that there was no way he would spare her the ride.

He walked his horse to the Post. The girl sagged weakly against the Post, her heavily welted nude upper torso still quaking with uncontrollable spasms of agony. Head pressed to the wood, she stared forward, but her gaze was unfocused and she barely noticed him. The Matabele looked up at Kyle. “Inkosana?” he said.

Suddenly, the diminutive title enraged him. “Inkosi! You will call me Inkosi, Mbane!” He lifted his face to the assembled servants. “You will all call me Inkosi now! Now get back to your work!” he dismissed them. They merely nodded, wise to his foibles. He had been born on Kleine Kraal and they knew him as a petulant c***d, but a c***d in control of the ranch for now. It would have infuriated him had he known of their derision and the amused contempt they felt after watching how shamelessly he and the white slut had indulged their lust like a couple of monkeys. Most felt sorry for Melissa—she was a servant, too, and her punishment had been necessarily vicious—but they were pragmatic and there was nothing to be done.

”As you wish, Inkosi, what is your command?” Mbane said.

”Wake her up! I'm not through with the bitch! I promised her a ride and I want her to feel it!”

”Inkosi.” He dropped the bloodied sjambok and went to the girl. He cut her feet apart and untied the strap holding her head against the wood. It lolled forward and her once lustrous auburn hair dropped to her chest, limp and matted with sweat. The huge Matabele tried to get her legs under her, but her knees kept collapsing and she would dangle again from her cuffs. After a couple of attempts, he walked to where several buckets waited. They were placed in the punishment yard for this specific purpose and he picket one up and unceremoniously splashed the moaning girl with its contents.

"Huh! W-Wha . . . OOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWW! OOOOWWW! WHHHHAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH! AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRAAAAHHH!" She screamed.

"Salt water," Kyle commented to Bette Marlborough. "It helps to prevent infection, but more importantly for this Boer bitch, it stings like acid when it gets into all those little rips and tears in her skin. Watch how she reacts."

The effect was indeed dramatic. The young redhead suddenly revitalized, her form squirming madly with new energy and fighting the ropes still holding her to the post. Her swollen bare breasts juddered side to side as the strong brine attacked raw, exposed nerves all over her whipped upper body. This new chemical pain was appalling, not only in its fiery intensity, but because the liquid was able to flow over large areas of sliced and swollen skin all at once. Kyle and Bette found the pretty redhead's contortions of intolerable sexual suffering extremely lascivious, a stirring sight rekindling their newly discovered sadism.

”That's better!" Kyle called out. "Good job, Mbane. I want her wide awake for her ride! When she settles down take her to the Horse!" He looked to one house servant, KaZwide. “Cassie, get some whiskey for me and the Inkosazana! Quickly now!” As the housemaid scurried away, Bette looked at him and smiled, pleased that he had called her Princess. She had him now; bless Mama's wisdom! She reached over and laid her hand in his crotch. He hadn't bothered putting his penis back in his trousers and she felt it stir under her touch. With the vitality of youth, he would be ready again soon.

It took almost five minutes before Melissa's spastic convulsions died down and she hung whimpering on the Whipping Post. After that, it was only a moment's work to undo the wrist cords from the iron bolts and let her collapse to the ground. Melissa's hands immediately flew down to cup her throbbing tortured tits, desperate to soothe them, but even her own touch hurt. Mbane only gave her a moment, then wrenched her arms behind her back and strapped them together wrist on elbow. A last rope was looped around her neck and knotted tightly down to her overlaid forearms, holding her head high. This final binding forced the maid to arch her back to ease the strain on her throat. Mbane lifted her effortlessly and spun her around so the whites could see.

They walked their mounts closer to get a better look. The cruel back-bending posture had the additional effect of forcing the Melissa's two whip-streaked breasts out high and proud in front of her and the variegated red and purple globes drew the eyes of both Afrikaaners. Her white pantaloons were soaked from the bucket, making the thin fabric cling to her strong thighs and show a triangular, cinnamon-red patch at their top. Kyle looked into the lovely blue eyes and saw the pain and fear there, but he was also gratified to see a bit of the old rebelliousness there, as well. She was unsteady, but was still standing with minimal help from the Matabele.

"Escort the wench to her mount, Mbane, and set her astride! She looks tired. The way she's wobbling on her feet, I think she could use a little rest in the saddle."

The look of rebellion gave way immediately to budding panic. In the relief of surviving the sjambok, she had forgotten about the Bishop's Horse. Now she realized that he hadn't and faced that new horror. Mbane dragged the babbling young redhead over to the ghastly thing waiting nearby. It was such a simple thing: a triangular plank of ironwood, sharp side up, mounted high on a pair of stout posts. Years back, someone had attached the head from a c***d's rocking horse to the front, an incongruous bit of whimsy on such a hideous device. A pair of stumps sat on the ground on either side and it was to these that Mbane led her. He placed her left foot on the near stump and swung her body up and over the ridge until she stood precariously on the two supports, her crotch a foot or so above the ridge. Kyle came over and held the girl upright by her neck rope so the big negro could complete his preparations down below. Small bags of lead shot were bound tightly to her big toes with twine. Mbane chose the smallest sacks, weighing only about fifteen pounds each, light for this punishment, but she was a small girl and he didn't think the Inkosana wanted her crippled. Still, she would feel it between her thighs well enough.

Bette moved up beside Blore. “Aren't you going to make the smug little bitch ride bareback, Kyle?” she said. “She still looks too arrogant for me.”

”No, pet. I would also like to have her peeled all the way, but even though Boer scum, she is still white and it could cause trouble if the other European ranchers found out I did that in front of a bunch of kaffirs. Anyway, those pathetic pantaloons will do little to ease her ride!”

As soon as Mbane finished with the bags, Kyle and Bette walked their mounts around to the front of the diabolic frame. Melissa teetered on the stumps, her curvacious nude torso held erect by the cord connecting neck and arms. She made an arousing sight to the young sadists. Besides making her stand upright, the binding forced her whip streaked naked breasts to thrust out and up as if flaunting them for admiration.

"P-P-Please, oh please, don't do this to me," the russet-haired beauty pleaded in a trembling voice. "PLEASE! You win! I'll do what you want. I'll - I'll let you make love to me! That's what you want! And I begged, you wanted that, too! Just please, just don't hurt me any more! Please, Kyle, I beg you, please don't hurt me any more!"

The rancher was enjoying himself far too much to stop now. But for Bette Marlborough's sweet and unexpected fellatio, he would probably have spared Melissa this ordeal, if only to take the edge off his sadistic lust. Now thanks to his female companion he could hold off until tonight to **** the wench. He felt his penis rousing again in anticipation, but he would wait. He was a little embarrassed that he had so openly given in to his lust, but watching the pretty white girl naked to the waist and writhing under the lash was even more erotically stimulating than he had imagined it would be and Bette's ministrations completely overrode any possible attempt at self-control. The hell with it! He was the Inkosi! He could do anything he wanted! Bette took his hand and he leaned forward to watch. He nodded to the waiting Matabele, now standing behind the frame holding ropes attached to the stumps.

Mbane wrenched powerfully on the ropes and the stumps jerked out from under Melissa's feet and she dropped. The fall wasn't far, but all of her weight and that of the lead shot dropped her crotch heavily on the sharp wooden ridge. There was a sound like a falling sack of grain and the wench seemed to bounce a bit, but that was only the lead shot settling. The height of the Bishop's Horse had been cruelly designed so that the weights wouldn't rest on the ground so all the weight centered on the victim's groin. Kyle saw a look of uncomprehending shock on the Boer maid's face and then the full, inhuman pain erupted in her sex and the screams roared out across the yard again. It was hard to believe that such strident noises could possibly emerge from such a small creature.

The two South Africans sat their mounts staring at the tormented girl. Her mouth gulped and anguished groans rolled from her throat, interspersed with incoherent pleas and loud shrieks. The brutal flogging had made her tits swell into a pair of taut, empurpled globes heavily striped with angry red welts. Brighter blood trails seeped from her puffed up nipples and the numerous whip bites on her front and sides. The pretty redhead's upper body was sweating profusely again from the effort of enduring the inhuman agony throbbing through her most private and tender parts. Mbane stepped aside and watched impassively.

"Is that it? That's all?" Bette asked. "I mean, a little taste of the whip, some sunbathing and that's all? Surely the bitch deserves more."

Kyle looked over at her, astonished by her viciousness. He knew her well enough to think she would find the Boer's punishment entertaining—she told him she found life on her ranch boring—but never expected her to enjoy it as much as he did, let alone understand his strong sexual arousal and eager willingness to satisfy it. "Yes, you're right, there should be more.” He thought fast. “I'll have her taken down in a couple of hours, long enough to let the sun bake her a little, just enough to sensitize her skin, then have her rested and cleaned up. I can set up a few toys in the barn. I want to see if the treasure she is sitting on is worth the price she paid for it. Beyond that, I don't know right now.”

Bette reached out her hand again to cup his crotch. "I'd like to join you this evening," she purred, slowly kneading his penis. Her voice was demure, her touch anything but. "I think it would be even more fun with an extra woman there, don't you? And I can tell you all of the best places and ways to play with a girl. Well . . .?" He felt himself hardening under her gentle massage. He nodded his head.

”Yes, of course, I should have thought of that, but I thought you had to get back to your ranch. Surely your father . . .”

”Father will be drunk by 4:00 and passed out by 6:00. And the way he sometimes looks at me when he's been drinking and Mama is visiting makes me want to avoid him even more. Mama won't worry; she thinks it's a good idea for me to meet some of the young gentlemen around.” She squeezed him lightly. “I can tell you think it's a good idea, too. Think of all the fun we can have. Your father won't be back for another two months, so that gives us plenty of time to get to know each other better and amuse ourselves." She let out a throaty chuckle. “And we have already made a good start at getting to know each other, don't you think?”

Kyle looked into her honey-yellow eyes, like a cat's he thought, and saw the fierce glint of sadistic lust there. Yes, another female, especially a willing one could make for a much more pleasurable night—and little Miss Marlborough had a very talented mouth. Yes, why not? Why the hell not?! Damn, this girl was full of great ideas! “Yes, yes of course you can join me. It will be just the three of us. Let's have lunch, I'm starving!””

Melissa Meuws could not help hearing them through her fog of pain. So she would still be ****d—and the Englishwoman was going to help in her violation. She shivered at the vile thought and instantly the sharp ironwood edge sent a hideously sharp ache straight up from the middle of her slit, feeling like it was splitting her in two. Her torso squirmed and she groaned loudly in pain as the ridge attacked her tender sex. Above, the sun beat down mercilessly.

The next two hours seemed an eternity of misery and suffering for the young Boer. The hot African sun baked her naked torso, burning the pale white skin painfully. Cattle flies crawled all over her body, drinking her sweat and biting her skin, but the veldt wasps were even worse. They smelled the sweet blood that seeped from her back, buttocks, sides, and tits. When she first felt their tiny legs scratching her skin. Melissa instinctively tried to shake the myriad insects away, but only managed to anger them. In moments, her savagely whipped breasts and nipples received numerous fiery stings all across their sore surfaces. Other stingers pierced her tender abdomen and sides. And then, of course, there was the endless agony between her straining thighs. It felt as though she was riding a red-hot sword that was splitting her up the middle. The only thing that varied its endless presence grinding up against her loins was the flashes of brighter pain whenever she moved her hips. She tried to bend forward to protect her tits from the sun, but the neck rope kept her torso arched and upright. With her arms tied behind her back as they were, the poor girl was utterly helpless to do anything to ease the hideous protracted torture in any way.

She drifted in and out of awareness as the time wore on. Once Kyle and Bette rode over to check on her and saw her eyes closed. Oh, no, my pretty, you don't get away that easily. He gestured with his chin to Marlborough. Without warning, she swept a couple of searing lashes over the girl's lower back with her quirt, right across the sacral dimples. Melissa's sweating body jerked madly at the cuts and a long, keening wail burst from her raw throat as she was cruelly brought back to full agonizing consciousness. The uncontrollable reaction to the lash made her loins grind over the sharp edge and increase the white-hot genital pain. "That's better," he said to her. "I didn't arrange your ride for you to take a nap."

Kyle looked down at her crotch and was amused to see that the cotton front of her pantaloons showed a small red splotch. He pointed it out to Bette. “See, I told you those frilly bloomers wouldn't protect her quim.” He looked up at the sun. "Only an hour more, Melissa. Only an hour until I have Mbane dismount you and allow you to rest. Three or four hours should do it; we have a rendezvous tonight, remember? You did ask me to fuck you, after all, and a gentleman never refuses a lady!" He laughed and gave her one departing slash of his own across her tortured bare breasts before riding away.

END