At this point, I had to give her only eight beats with a belt. I wound him on the arm in a different way, so that now his other side was walking on Stella’s hot red ass, and continued execution. Now Stella jerked after each blow, without taking her arms off the table, however. I continued to flog her, measuredly covering her back, ass and hips with new red stripes and putting all my strength and skill into each blow. On the forty-fifth strike, I managed to knock the first moan out of her. This small victory gave me inspiration, and the next blow turned out so powerful that Stella suddenly twisted so that she was lying on her side. She pulled her legs to her stomach, but her arms remained in place. In this way, she could not stand my pace, trying to give herself a break from the endless pain. Her distorted face was filled with tears, her eyes were closed, and her teeth were tightly compressed.

I ordered her to return to her previous position, and Stella reluctantly complied, winning no more than ten seconds. I waited for her long, already lost motionless body to stop convulsing and, unwinding the belt in her hand, again with all her strength pulled them across frantically compressed buttocks. Stella groaned even more protractively and plaintively, her body twisted again, looking up from the table, and I noticed wet spots of her sweat on its polished surface. The long stripes on her body gradually faded, merging with each other and painting the entire surface that had been brutally whipped in a pale pink color, and even new tracks did not flare up on her as brightly as before.

This time Stella returned to her original position faster and without reminders. I struck the remaining four blows, like a true gourmet, for a long time spinning the strap in my hand and throwing it at the bottom of my buttocks, where my skin had already thoroughly swollen. After each of them, Stella sharply arched in an arc, with a whistle, drawing air through her clenched teeth and throwing her head back so far that she almost touched the crown of her shoulder blades, and took her ripped buttocks from side to side for a long time. Muffled moans came through convulsively clenched teeth, blood flowed from a previously bitten lip, and her long thin fingers dug into the edge of the table with such force that I was afraid for its integrity. But never once did she open her mouth and scream. I have only once encountered such stamina. During one hot party in our club, the girl also withstood fifty blows, not with a belt, but with a whip, worse, though, then, by prior arrangement, she still had to punish her with her own long and thin black strap, and from him she howled , like a wounded animal, after the first blows. Since the transition from one instrument of punishment to another is always very painful, I pinned great hopes on the waiting rods.

The willow rods cut off a few hours ago were soaked in salt solution all the time and were all as picking — not very long, which made it possible to avoid overwhelming the hips and sides, slightly less than Stella’s finger at the base, and gradually tapering to the tip, almost perfectly smooth and smooth. I gave the girl a few minutes to rest, choosing at this time the thickest and most straight rod. I did not intend to spare her and intended to give her all three dozen strikes, making them as strong as possible. But before that, I ran my hand over her buttocks and thighs, causing another moan.They were very hot and rough because of the skin that had lost its elasticity, and there was not a single unaffected place on them, except for the narrow depression between the two appetizing ovals of her ass. There were no cuts, so I decided to start with a belt. But the rods compared to him will be much more brutal.

- Well, let's continue? - I asked in a semi-interrogative tone. This time Stella was silent, and I, having intercepted the rod more comfortably, several times attached it to the girl's buttocks which were immediately compressed. Apparently, she could no longer control her reflexes and could not bring herself to relax, although, of course, she knew that muscle tension during spanking entails even more pain.

It seemed to me that her ass was not raised high enough, and I put a special stand under her tummy, having previously wrapped it with a soft cloth. Now Stella's long legs straightened up and stood perfectly even and symmetrical, like an inverted “V”. From the side it looked so beautiful that I regretted that I did not put her in this position earlier.

But all was not lost, and I tried again, took a small step back, straightened my long-sticking member's trousers and with a reversal sent a long flexible rod towards Stella’s greatly flushed buttocks. She managed to react to the whistle and twisted to the side, but, of course, it did not save her. Rod plunged deep into her hot skin, leaving a long white mark that crossed both its halves slightly obliquely and almost immediately filled with red. The girl again arched beautifully, throwing her distorted face into the ceiling, but did not budge, and the only sound that followed the whistle of the rod was her deep breath and slow exhalation through her teeth. Not giving her a break, I again lowered the rod onto her swollen buttocks, hitting a little below the first strike. This time, Stella groaned, and both her legs bent at the knees and detached from the floor.

“Feet on the floor, quickly,” I commanded, feeling the closeness of surrender.

Stella obeyed, but after the third blow, which left a long scarlet strip on her thighs, her legs again flew up. I did not want to tie her, because it was interesting what the limits of her exposure were, therefore, holding the next blow, I said in a gentle tone:

- Once again this will happen again, and I will tie you to the rings on the ceiling and you will receive the remaining number of blows with a whip. I understand clearly?

Stella nodded, and her trembling legs, one after another, sank to the floor, her heels clicking. I changed the rod, choosing a little longer and thin, and the torture continued. I again applied an extremely strong and hard rhythm, pushing my hand back and then sending it forward along with the turn of the body, giving the rod the fastest possible speed. The pauses between beats were no more than two or three seconds. Stella fought in the invisible trap of my conditions and the possibility of breaking them at any moment, holding back the fear of what followed and my own dignity. The air whistled through her lungs and left them with hoarse moans, the table swaying from her desperate jerks. From the side it seemed that her fingers were clinging tightly to its edge, and her life depended on whether she could tear them off. After the twelfth stroke, I felt that she had no strength left to hold back. Tears again dripped from her beautiful eyes, a thin trickle of saliva flowed from the corner of her mouth, and contrary to my orders, her legs again fell off the floor and bent at the knees. Her lungs were cracking, she was sobbing softly, but this was the only manifestation of the pain she endured. She had to inevitably break down, but she had not broken the rod before. On the thirteenth stroke (after all, don't believe in mysticism), he broke down in the middle exactly.Stella and this blow survived without screaming, but while I was changing the rod, she managed to pack up and again obediently awaited her fate, firmly putting her legs on the floor and erotically moving her hips to cool down the fire that was tormenting her buttocks and thighs. Of course, she really wanted to touch her screaming skin from terrible pain, to stroke and cover her with her palms, but this was forbidden, and she would get out of the situation in this way. Or maybe it was an attempt to make me hospitably open holes ... Read more →