Jennifer heard the swish of the cane, and then it bit into her stretched up buttocks. She had promised herself not to, but it forced a howl out of her throat as her strung-up lower body convulsed, and a wave of superheat welled up into her in shock gaping cunt. And then she felt George’s hand stroking lovingly over the burning welt on her ass.

Nevertheless, Jenifer knew it was far from over because while he caressed her still uncontrollably twitching ass, his cane stroked down the length of one of her spread out legs. It was a thing alive, as it touched, felt her, and read her quivers. Then George must have stood back. He let the cane rest in the open gash of her pussy before sliding it caressingly up the other leg, right to the cuff tied to the spreader bar up under the ceiling.

By the time the cane reversed its journey, Jennifer was whimpering in expectation of what the rod would do next. She strained at the padded handcuffs that bound her to the headpiece of the bed, and her eyes bulged into the dark vision under the blindfold. Then, she heard, it seemed from far away, George’s sonorous, for her so captivating voice: -

“Will I hear a number from you, or already ‘Red’. I’ll expect more from my Sub. Sascha once, after having sinned - oh she sinned badly that night - reached an eight with this cane.”

While he talked, George slowly drew the length of the bamboo stick through the lips of her pussy. The caress of its rings robbed Jennifer of her voice as she gasped and fought for breath. But then George stopped and asked, “What is it to be, my Jenny?”

Before she could answer, the cane hit, no, merely tapped Jennifer’s spread open clit a few times in quick succession. The electrifying shock sent her whole body into pre-orgiastic convulsions, with the first waves crushing in.

No longer able to resist, Jennifer burst into a sobbing cry, “One! Fucking one, George! Give me the Two!” She did not hear, therefore, the cane’s swish before it hit her in terror quivering ass. As she howled out, “Red! Red, you bastard!” her pelvis arched and twisted, and the first gush of hot cunt juice gushed over her belly and tits.

George put aside his cane. He covered Jennifer’s wildly twisting pussy with a comforting hand. Eventually, two of his fingers began to slide in and out of her hot-squelching cunt until, after quite a while, Jennifer’s crying – was it anger or arousal - settled into a sobbing, gasping for air.

There was the hum of an electric motor, and Jennifer’s bar-spread legs were slowly lowered back onto the bed. She felt George’s gentle touch as he freed her legs from the bar. When he removed the cuffs, his fingers rubbed healingly over the marks her strung up weight had imprinted on her skin.

But as she lay now on her back, George could do nothing about the burning like hell streaks across her punished ass. She would hurt and remember for days.

Would it mark her forever as his?

Had he done so, intended it? Would she allow it? Jennifer’s mind was still too much in turmoil to think it out. But George - first with his fingers in her cunt, and now gliding his hands slowly, caressingly possession taking, up over her thighs and pubes and tensing belly to her aroused and aching tits – wasn’t he assuming already that she was his?

And then, oh God, he so gently removed the devilish clamps from her in pain and lust engorged nipples. Jennifer jerked on her handcuffs. She suddenly wanted nothing more than to grasp his head and force his mouth and teeth onto her clips-tortured tits.

Finally, George squatted next to her face to free her from her handcuffs. Once her hands were free, Jennifer did not reach for her blindfold. She turned her face to press her mouth onto George’s thigh.

As her teeth sank into the cloth and not skin, she realised that her imagination had betrayed her. Throughout the mounting thrill of being at the non-mercy of George’s hands, Jennifer had visualised him, stripped naked like her.

Against the canvass of her blind, Jennifer had seen his cock rising as he began to play, teasingly at first, the soft leather cat-o’-nine-tails over her tits and belly and pubes. Then, with her twisting body crying out for the next and next and next after flick of the cat’s tails, George whipped her with sweet stinging cuts all over her body. And Jennifer saw on her mask’ canvass how his now rampant cock twitched in lust with every lash he landed on her twisting nakedness.

As suddenly as it began, the cat withdrew its claws. Instead, George suddenly knelt close to Jennifer on the bed, and his hands were stroking over her skin. She knew how pleased he was by the way he caressed over the tingling hot streaks the cat had left on her quivering body. His hands stroked down the inside of her bar-spread, wide-open legs. Then George drew his fingertips slowly through the, by the cat, hot-whipped lips of her pussy. It made Jennifer arch up with a drawn-out, moaning cry that ended, with the fourth stroking of her tantalised pussy, in a strangulated, “George! My God, why don’t you fuck me!”

But George’s attention shifted now to Jennifer’s, for her age still almost perfect, straining into his grip, boobs. They were, from the cat’s whipping, hot, with its prominent, lusciously berry-like nipples, showily excited.

George chuckled: -

“These tits of yours, my Jenny, fell in love with the cat. They are giving you away as the horny, so readily fuckable woman you are. With these nipples, there is no hiding! For this, they need to be punished, don’t they?”

And Jennifer, twisting under George’s brutal grip on her tits, moaned her consent, “Yes! Yes! Punish them!”

George released her breasts; she heard a clinking of metal, and then the steel clamp bit into her left nipple with a force no teeth had ever done. Jennifer howled in shock, and as the second clamp closed on her right nipple, her body arched and shook uncontrollably. And the chain across her body set the clamps aquiver, which forced Jennifer, gasping and whimpering, into trying to hold still her tortured tits.

Then, from far away, she heard George’s question, “Does that punish you enough? Do you want more?” To test her, George lifted the clamps’ chain. As he pulled – gently, actually - the throbbing in Jennifer’s nipples threatened to change into searing pain. And Jennifer surrendered by crying out, “Red, George! Damn you! Red!”

As George rested the chain on her heaving belly, Jennifer fought against the cuffs holding her captive. She wanted to throw herself now– she knew - at George’s triumphant cock. And God, she would do with her teeth to his manhood what the clamps were doing to her throbbing, more and more lust-engorged nipples.

But this was then before she encountered the cane that sent her cunt into a hitherto unimaginable frenzy to be fucked. And now it was over, and George had untied her.

He, whom she had imagined – no, seen – naked and wildly aroused, sat fully clothed and, Jennifer suspected, coolly in control, next to her on the bed. And she could not sink now, being free, her starving mouth on a – she had imagined - for her in final arousal, pulsating cock. So, Jennifer turned angrily way.

George got up without touching her. His voice was calm and controlled as he said: -

“I’ll leave you now, Jenny. Take all the time you want to shower, get dressed, and, if needed, decide if you're going to be my woman and Sub. If not, the backdoor is open, my car unlocked. I will drive you home, no questions asked. I will deeply regret it but never bother you again. But if I, as a man and a Dom, meet and inflame your desire as you do mine, you will join me in the lounge. We will work out our future.”

As she heard the door click shut, Jennifer took off her mask. Then she stumbled somewhat unsteady on her so unusually stretched legs to the bathroom. When she turned on the light, she was confronted by her reflection in the two full-length mirrors.

Except on the white globes of her boobs which were usually covered by the now, regretfully, necessarily more oversized top of her bikini and the panties triangle well below the navel, the cat’s only teasing claws had left no visible marks on Jennifer’s tanned skin.

Seeing now the telling pink markings on her tits and how George had directed the cat’s tails to sting her shaven pubes and flick her pussy, made her swallow in excitement. And the two flaming red streaks across her ass still burned in her mind as much as on her skin. She suddenly realised that there were no bikini pants that could hide George’s markings across her ass.

As the water streamed down on her still tingling body, Jennifer burst into a tension relieving laughter and shouted, “Yes, George! Yes!”

No man, and not one of her escapades and sexual adventures in the past thirty-five years had made her feel like now. And if George wanted her, she would wear his brand on her ass with pride on every beach in Australia!

She will be his, Jennifer decided. But – just as Sasha - not as an unconditionally compliant slave!

On returning to the ‘playroom’ – she had decided on this name – Jennifer looked, for the first time, with knowing eyes at its features. She had agreed to the Sub-trial over glasses of champagne in the lounge. When George had taken her back to the room, now an hour or so ago, it had been for her a quickly darkened blur. He had too promptly covered her eyes as she quaked in anticipation of what was to come.

But now she could look. And Jennifer saw not only the silken sheets, pillows, and cover on the king-size bed she had rested on last night but also the almost decorative stainless-steel flanges bolted to the solid headboard and sides of the bed. And now she could see herself, stretched-out and fettered by ropes running through these flanges, waiting on the silken sheets for what George could now do to her. And would! Jennifer drew a shuddering breath.

George had left the toys from their playtime on sight. On a sideboard lay the soft-leather padded cuffs that had bound Jennifer’s wrists and ankles. And then, as if on display, there was the evil bamboo-cane, the stingingly caressing soft-leather cat, and the jewellery-like chain and jaws of the nipple clamps. And there was a phone-like, she realised, remote control for the winch.

It drew her eyes up to the ceiling, focusing on the spreader bar still attached to the hook of a pulley. Jennifer had heard the sound of the winch when her spread open legs were heaved up and, eventually, mercifully let down again once the cane had left its mark.

The pulley’s hook and bar were now in the ceiling’s centre and no longer over the bed. Suddenly Jennifer remembered that she had wondered about the position of the hook last night when George had so gently bedded her down after her bath.