Pooch's Story Back to H Back to main page

Collected by Djian

Pooch's Story

(Parts 1-3) (Bdsm, N/C, Slave)
(Mr. Ed)

This story contains intense, graphic details of the life of a formerly
willing sex slave named Pooch. It is not intended to be read by
children or those that are offended by such material. It is a work of
fiction containing acts that are not recomended for emulation in the
real world. It is an on going story that will continue as long as the
readers indicate a strong desire for it to do so. Your email is the
expresioin of choice.

Pooch's Story


Coming Home
The rain sheets down as Pooch hurriedly makes her way towards the old
brownstone at the end of Kennel St. She is running as fast as she can
in her chunky pumps but it is still awkward. She would make better
time in stocking feet but she doesn't dare remove the shoes for fear
of ruining her nylons. A million thoughts run through her head one of
which is that her running will put a ladder in her stockings. It's
only September and she has but six good stockings to last till the
new year. Her back and shoulders ache from the days work in the
picture frame plant and her lungs are sore from the run from the bus
stop. She can feel a blister developing on her left heel. Still she
keeps running because the overriding question in her mind is how late
is she? The cold rain soaking the pink sweater was hardly a concern.
The run had made Pooch felt hot. She knew she was late and that made
her feel ill.

Up the front steps of the house she raced. The outside door was
unlocked, thank God she thought. In she slid closing the door behind
her. Pooch found herself in a small portico, empty except for the
large coconut mat in the corner by the outside door. In one of the
side walls between the outside and the inside door was a milk door.
Pooch opened it and quickly placed her shoes inside. The pink cardigan
was unbuttoned, removed, folded in four and placed on top of the
shoes Next she reached back to the zipper on the back of her dress
and pulled it down. The simple brown dress with a flower print slid
off her shoulders. Pooch stepped out of it folded the dress and placed
it in the milk box. She was now dressed in just a rather worn looking
white brassier, a similarly old looking white garter belt and plain
taupe stockings. The right one had a nasty run at the heal, near the
point where she had felt the blister. Pooch was hairless below her
neck. This was made obvious by her lack of panties. Panties were not
allowed. During her period Pooch could wear a diaper, but that was as
close to panties as she ever came. She also had no watch, no jewelry,
no handbag, no wallet, no keys and no money. They were all forbidden.
Pooch saw the run in the stocking and bit her lower lip. This was not
turning out to be a good day.

There was no hesitation in removing the rest of the clothing. Every
moment was important. If Ed unlocked the door to the inside of the
house and saw her out of position there would be extra punishment.
The under clothes were shoved into the milk compartment and the door
shut. Pooch gave the handle a turn and this locked the milk door. Her
clothes were now out of reach and she was totally nude. Pooch now
turned towards the right front corner of the entry way, where the
cocoa mat was and kneeled on it being careful to be very close to the
wall but not to touch it. Her toes pointed straight back and she
kneeled at attention with her hands at her sides and fingers pointing
straight down. All was quiet.

Where Pooch had felt hot just minutes age she now began to feel
chilled. She was wet from the rain and the portico had no heating
duct. It was a cold wet fall. She could stand the chill, it was the
waiting she hatted. Pooch knew that the longer it Took Ed to open the
door the more severe her punishment would be. Ed checked for her about
once every twenty minutes. If he opened the door and she was out of
position the door would be closed again and she would have to wait
another twenty minutes. That would be counted as the amount of time
she was late. The time she actually got home didn't matter. If Ed was
in a foul mood he might make her wait even longer and use that time to
build up his own anger.

Today was her fourtieth birthday. No one would remember, she thought.
After all who ever heard of a slaves birthday? Pooch did and it made
her a bit more sad. Time was passing by and she knew the rest of her
life would be spent in bondage. She just couldn't know to whom. Ed
had said many times that when she no longer pleased him she would be
sold. Although life was harsh now it would be much worse if she were
sold. At her age she would be no more than a piece of meat to someone
who saw a quick profit in using her as a sub in an s&m brothel or the
star of some snuff film. All traces of her pathetic existence would
probably be erased in a vat of acid. The thought that things could
actually be worse was not a lot of comfort. Pooch knew she would be
howling later tonight.

For someone of forty with ten years spent in slavery Pooch was still
in remarkably good shape. At 5'8" and 110 pounds she was as thin as a
rail except for a full pair of breasts, 36C. With her arms raised
every rib was clearly visible. Ed thought this was sexy and he made
sure that her weight didn't increase. Her brown hair was cut in a
short pageboy style inspired by pictures of ancient Egyptian slaves.
This was a style simple enough for Pooch to be able to cut herself
with scissors and a mirror. It required no upkeep. It didn't cover any
of her assets and most important to Ed it didn't get in the way of a
good hiding. Large, blue eyes softened the other features of her face
making pooch look a bit younger than her years. Her nose was of
average size straight with just a small bulb on the end and a slight
bump in the middle where it had been broken once when Ed was in a
drunken fit. Her face had a collision with his knee. The massive
bleeding had scared the hell out of Ed and it hadn't happened again.
He was good with his hands and when he sobered up he packed Pooches
nose with cotton and reset the soft bone himself. There would be no
emergency room for Pooch. Ed had actually done a pretty good job. The
weight that Pooch did carry was almost all muscle. Bone protruded at
the points of her hips and there was no padding on her ass or thighs
just nice muscle definition The muscles of her calves, stomach, back
and shoulders were also well defined. Her build was no accident. It
was the result of hard labour and a compulsory training program.
Pooches' breasts sagged a bit, normal for any woman over twenty-five.
In her case they had been beaten, twisted, stretched, clamped, tied,
pierced, bitten, pinched and burned on a regular basis. Ed loved what
he referred to as tit play. A dark ring surrounded the base of each
breast where they were tied by the tit rope so many times that the
rope had left permanent marks. Each breast was covered with tiny
small scars and bruises. Those tits kept reminded her of their
existence all times. Her naked mons fared little better. The flesh had
turned brown and was constantly swollen. The colour helped to hide
marks and bruising but the nerves were alive and well. When her legs
were spread three eyelets could be seen running along the length of
each of her inner pussy lips. These had been inserted a long time ago
using a tool from the shoe making trade. When these had been
inserted, it was one of the very few times Pooch had passed out from
pain. Little plugs of flesh had actually been punched out with a
leather punch and then the eyelets were inserted and permanently set.
Since Ed had read that one could avoid passing out through conscious
effort this was now considered a serious offense and was punished as
such. The most striking feature of Pooch's naked body however were
the marks covering her back. This was Ed's living canvas. Her muscular
back was covered with weales, bumps and bruises colored from yellow to
purple. the marking ran from the bottom of her buttocks right up to
the tops of her shoulders. Soon this painting would be refreshed.
Her life was very structured and governed by strict rules. She owned
nothing and possessing anything other then the clothes on her back
was forbidden, thus no money, purse, keys etc. Entertainment of any
sort was not allowed, no television, radio, books, magazines or
newspapers. Outside the house Pooch was not to be assertive with
anyone. In the house things went much further. There was no talking
unless spoken to and then only to respond to what was asked. She was
never to give an opinion, argue or ask for anything. In the house her
gaze was to be directed at peoples feet, never their face. Obedience
was to be absolute, with no hesitation, and this extended to anyone in
the house. She was responsible for all the cooking and house work. No
decisions were her own. Pooch was told when and what to eat, when to
use the toilet or in her case bucket, when and where to sleep etc.

There could be no friendships or communications with anyone outside
the house. Touching herself was one of the most serious infractions.
Masturbation was a totally selfish act and slaves lived only to please
their masters, never themselves. Ed actually kept a book filled with
rules along with minimum punishments. He also wrote down every
infraction so that if he saw Pooch in frequent violation of any rule
the punishment would be increased till her behavior was corrected. He
kept this as a permanent record with no expiry. She couldn't get over
how awful it felt to be confronted with things she had done eight or
nine years ago but everything was part of the permanent record.
The bristles from the mat were starting to irritate Pooch's knees and
especially the tops of her feet. Ed seemed to delight in finding was
to make every routine a little more difficult or uncomfortable for
her. Kneeling on the tile floor would be just too easy. There is
nothing like waiting to make time slow to a crawl. The minutes slowly
passed. The sick feeling in her stomach got worse. "Please, please
open the door", she thought. Finally she heard the bolt turn and the
door open.

"Well you shit faced whore your fourty minutes late", Ed yelled at her
in his most intimidating voice.

"It's the second time this month. I guess I didn't create a strong
enough impression on you last time, isn't that right whore "?

Pooch knew better than to disagree. "Yes master. I'm sorry master".

"Well you're going to remember this time and your going to remember
for a very long time".

"Get up and start my dinner and don't bother putting on the serving
outfit you've wasted enough time. Marla will be coming over later and
there is much to do".

"Thank goodness for small favors" Pooch thought.

She hated the serving outfit which was a bit like a french maid
costume with only the cap, a tiny apron, black fishnet stockings,
garter belt and extremely high stiletto heels with a heavy ankle strap
ensuring they stayed on. The shoes had been purchased from a specialty
shop deliberately a size too small. They hurt her feet terribly and
slowed everything down. Hearing that Marla was coming over was another
matter. Pooch hatted Marla in a way that she hatted no one else. She
was Ed's girl friend and a lot prettier and younger than she. Marla
loved to flaunt her relationship with Ed in Pooch's face. She was
extremely smart, a court room lawyer, and she was an unrepentant
sadist that liked inflicting psychological torture as much as
physical. Although nobody else knew it, Pooch was more of a reason for
Marla spending time with Ed than he was. The fact that Marla knew that
Pooch hatted her and yet had to be just as obedient to her orders as
she was to Ed's was just so delicious.

"There will be no dinner for you tonight" Ed said.

Pooch figured as much. She was almost never fed before a whipping
because there was too much danger of choking on her own vomit if she
were gagged.

She got up on her toes and keeping her eyes down walked past Ed into
the house and toward the kitchen.

Part2

Evening Rituals

Ed was holding the small rubber whip which raised the nastiest welts
and stung like a dozen bees. He also smelled of alcohol. These were
very bad signs for Pooch. She knew Ed rarely carried around the
"supervisor", as he called the small whip, unless he intended to use
it and alcohol made him much freer in administering discipline.

"Hurry up".

She heard the whip crack and then felt the sting on her right side
intensify to a burn.

Pooch held her breath and ran to the kitchen. "Fuck that hurts" she
thought. Tears started forming in her eyes but not a sound escaped her
throat.

"Marla said that she thought I had been too easy on you and I think
she's right."

Ed left for the library without another word while Pooch was left to
contemplate that bitches ever increasing influence on him. She
couldn't help it but it made her blood boil.

Pooch quickly prepared a tossed salad and placed a salmon steak on
the frying pan. It was Friday and on Fridays Ed liked to have fish. It
was a part of his Catholic upbringing. There was still some wine left
from the previous day. She poured a glass and set it down beside
Ed's plate on the kitchen table. Pooch didn't want Ed to get any more
intoxicated but he liked wine with his meal so that was that. Just as
the fish was cooked Ed walked in and sat down. The "supervisor' was
stuck through his belt. Pooch served the fish and stepped back two
steppes from the table waiting to serve any of Ed's needs.

"Have your heels touched the floor since you've been home this
evening"?

"No master" Pooch answered.

"Put tape on your heels"

"Yes master", she answered.

Pooch went over to one of the kitchen drawers and removed two squares
of double sided tape. She discarded the cover paper and applied one
square to the bottom of each heal. If the heel touched the floor, or
anything else for that matter, it would pick up evidence that she had
broken one of the rules. She must only walk on her toes while
barefoot. Pooch returned to her spot.

"More wine" barked Ed.

Pooch poured a second glass.

"Is there any pie left" ?

"Yes master"

"Good. Cut me a slice and then straighten up the house. I want the
house neat and the dishes done by 7:30. At 7:30 I want you in the
playroom with your ankles fastened for the bar. You're going to get
forty with the "big boy" for being late today. One stroke for every
minute. I think that will get your attention. Oh, and when Marla gets
here we are going to have a little court session with her as judge.
Thanks to her advise I've done some surveillance on you and found that
you have been less than honest. That will be all."

Pooch was floored. Forty stokes with the "big boy", what could he be
thinking? The big boy was a three inch wide urethane strap, three feet
long, a quarter inch thick attached to a wooden handle with a `knob
and loop of leather at the end to go around Ed's wrist. About every
three quarters of an inch in any direction there was a hole drilled
through the strap to let air pass through and prevent the blows being
softened by a cushion of air. This was insanity she thought. She had
received twenty strokes once before and besides going delirious from
the pain she couldn't straighten up for a week and then only with
great difficulty. If she survived forty, Pooch was convinced, she
would be crippled for life. And then Ed expected to have some court
session after that? "Good luck, I'll be dead", she thought. Now there
was a clue to his foul mood. He had caught her breaking the rules and
it was all thanks to that bitch Marla. What had he caught her doing?
She felt like she was going to throw up. She felt her life was over.
Despite the feelings of impending doom Pooch bore down and finished
her chores. The bed was made, carpets vacuumed, dishes washed and
items straightened. Shortly before 7:30 Pooch made her way down the
cellar steps to the "playroom".

The playroom, as Ed called it, evoked no thoughts of play for Pooch.
It was a cold, damp, dark and unpleasant place by design. It had been
built by Pooches own labor. It was lower than the rest of the basement
by some two feet and was entered through a double thick, windowless,
steel door. A heavy rubber gasket around the edge created a total
seal. The room was a large square shape with an aggregate cement
floor, concrete block walls and a wood beam ceiling. Illumination came
from a single bare light bulb placed near the base of one wall
creating shadows that went up instead of down for a very macabre
effect. There was a torch on each wall for effect, though they were
seldom used. The air was damp and pungent. A hole had been cut into
the main sewer pipe which ran down one corner of the room and a small
bracket had been inserted into the pipe. waste running down the pipe
would hit the bracket and a small amount would splash out of the
hole. This constantly renewed the biological materials growing on most
of the surfaces. To one side was a medieval looking gynecologists
table made from rough hewn wood with stirrups projecting of one
end and leather straps everywhere. The largest item, in the room was a
rack. Again it was of rough wood construction with chains and
manacles for the ankles at one end and similar fixtures for the wrists
attached to a giant wood drum at the other end. Many iron rings were
embedded in the walls and floor. On the ceiling were four pulleys
allowing each limb to be attached and adjusted separately. On the wall
just to the side of the door was a storage area for the assorted
whips, binders, cuffs, harnesses, clamps, dildos and other toys. One
item that didn't seem to fit into the room was a reclining leather
chair set well above the filthy floor on a large wooden box. It almost
had a throne like quality. It was Marla's seat and Pooch had to make
sure she cleaned it every day. The bitch didn't want to get her
clothes soiled while she watched her suffer. In one corner, set into
the floor was a two foot square iron plate with a large ring in the
center, which acted as a handle. A couple of bolts on opposite sides
of the plate entered the concrete so that it could not be pushed up
from below. This was the entry to "the pit", a seven foot deep hole
with concrete walls and a dirt floor. When in the pit it was like
being buried alive except you couldn't lie down. Pooch walked down the
steps and walked straight ahead toward the opposite wall. Five feet
from the wall and parallel to it was a "T" formed from a couple of
two inch metal pipes. It had been embedded at least a foot into the
concrete floor was as wide as Pooch's hips and the top was hip high.
On the floor , about a foot past each end of the T, on the floor,
were short chains with leather ankle cuffs attached. Pooch took a pair
of leather wrist cuffs, which had been resting on the top of the T and
tightened the Velcro straps around her wrists. She then spread her
legs, squatted down and fastened each ankle to a cuff on the floor.
She then stood up straight, always careful to stay on her toes, placed
her hands behind her head and stood facing the back wall with the top
of the T just touching the front of her hips. She now waited for Ed
and possibly a painful end to her life. Pooch began to actually
tremble from fear.

Ed walked in shut the door behind him and walked to the back well.

"Give me your wrists".

Pooch bent at the waist, hips over the crossbar and extended her arms
over her head stretching toward the back wall, her back parallel to
the floor. Ed grabbed each wrist pulled it as tight as he could and
attached each to separate chains on the wall. Pooch was stretched
tight with the cross bar bruising her hips. A wave of panic began to
overtake her. Ed walked to the storage area and picked up the big boy
along with a bit gag. He walked back to Pooch's straining body and
used it as a table to set down the strap and gag.

"Before I start your punishment I have something to say to you and you
will have a decision to make." Ed had her undivided attention. Dare
she hope that she might get out of this? "About ten years ago you
agreed to be my slave and accept, absolutely, everything that would
come from that decision. For all the years since then you have lived
up to that agreement and for the most part you have been magnificent.
I never dreamed that I would find somebody like you and you have made
the last ten years more enjoyable, more loving and more exciting than
any man deserves. Thank you Pooch. Thank you very much. I love you
with all my soul. I love you much more than you might think". Ed's
voice was soft and a bit unsteady.

"Today is your fortieth birthday" Ed continued, "and I feel we have
come to a crossroads. Lately things have become a bit stagnant between
us and I don't think that you have been very happy. I know that I've
told you that when you stopped pleasing me that I would sell you to
some white slavers and that would be the end of it, but Pooch I just
can't do that. I don't have it in me.

Pooch stared at her dangling bruised tits. She was totally confused.
He loves me, he's tired of me, he's going to get rid of me, he's not
going to get rid of me, what's going on? It's true that she hadn't
been deliriously happy lately but she was still trying her best.
Hadn't she walked into the position she was in now knowing it may mean
the end of her life. She no longer had any other life. Tears began to
well up in her eyes.

"Things are going to have to change because I don't think a long,
drawn out decline in this relationship is what either of us want, so
this is the choice that you must make".

"The first choice is that we end our relationship right now. I will
provide you with enough money to start a new life. You will agree to
reside somewhere distant from her and we will never see each other
again. There would be no whipping but instead I will drive you
downtown and let you go".

"The second choice is that you accept what you have coming to you and
believe me I am not going to hold back. You will then go to trial for
your past transgressions. Marla will be the judge and you will agree
to accept any judgment that she may hand down. I will also warn you
that Marla will be moving in with me permanently and you will serve
two masters full time. With Marla here all the time things will be a
lot harder on you and I think that that is just what it might take to
make things exciting again".

"I will give you a minute to choose. If you choose to stay then just
open your mouth wide and I will put the bit in your mouth and start
your whipping. If you choose to leave then say so and I will let you
go. This is not a trap of any sort"

One minute to make the most important decision of her life seemed
highly unfair. "Ed's probably thought about this for weeks and I get a
minute while stretched out waiting for a whipping", thought Pooch. She
didn't want to get this beating and the thought of serving Marla all
the time was repulsive. Ed was right, things had become stale, the
excitement was gone, replaced by day to day drudgery. Yet she had no
desire to go back to a vanilla lifestyle and she thought that at her
age she didn't have much chance of finding someone to replace Ed,
especially someone she could trust to survive another ten years with.
He must also have something in mind with regards to this punishment
session that would leave her intact. After all she had been Ed's slave
for a long time and was still healthy. Somehow things will work out.
Pooch opened her mouth wide.

Ed placed the bit in her mouth and strapped it in tight pulling back
the corners of her mouth almost to her ears. "I'm glad you decided to
stay Pooch, I hope you don't regret it. Just never forget that this
was your choice. Now I think it's appropriate that I get Marla in here
to help celebrate our new beginning". He walked back and opened the
playroom door. Looking back between her spread legs Pooch could see
Marla walk down the steps. She was wearing judges robes and carrying a
bottle of Champaign in one hand and a couple of glasses in the other.
She placed the items down on the box carrying her chair and walked
over to nervous prisoner.

"Well well well, you decided not to leave us. I'm so glad. It's going
to be so much fun training you to respond to my tastes. I'm sure that
soon you'll wish you made the other choice. Ed, why don't you pour us
a glass? Too bad that Pooch's mouth too full to have a drink. I know,
pour some Champaign over her back, that would be even more
appropriate".

He poured the Champaign first into the glasses and then onto Pooch,
wetting her from the nape of the neck to the crack of her but. Marla
coolly held her glass in one hand and smeared the spilled bubbly all
over the slaves back and ass. "The strap will make a louder sound she
said and it will sting the broken skin. To the three of us", Marla
toasted. "To the three of us" , answered Ed. "Just remember how I
showed you to swing that thing. Step into the stroke", reminded Marla.
"My God!" thought Pooch, "It looks like the bitch is going to be
calling the tune. I don't need this". Ed helped Marla up into her
chair, had another sip of champagne, put down the glass and picked up
the big boy.


Part3

Marla's Tune
Ed stood well back from Pooch's left Side. He held the strap in his
right hand straight down so that the end rested on the floor.

He took a small step with his left foot followed by a large step with
his right his strap arm windmilling over his head and then speeding down
as he bent at the waist to add every last bit of velocity.

The sound of the air passing through the holes in the strap
quickly went from a low "whoosh" to a high pitched whistle.
The strap crashed right across the center of Pooch's back.

"Pooch entered another world where the only reality was pain and the only thought
was please, please stop. Her body tensed bruising her hips over the
cross bar even more, but this she didn't even feel. What she felt was
a wide strip of skin being ripped off her back and she screamed over the bit.
The skin immediately turned crimson with dozens of tiny pale circles
where the holes in the big boy were.

"Not bad", said Marla, "but could you slow down your arm until it's on
the way down and then give it a sharp pull. It will increase to tip velocity".
Pooch couldn't believe it. She was loosing her mind after just one
stroke and here was Marla coaching Ed on how to make the next stroke
hurt her even more. If she could have changed her earlier decision she would
have now.

The second stroke landed over the strong muscles of her shoulders. He
had listened to his lover and the result was a higher pitched whistle, a
louder crack and a more desperate scream.

"Good job Ed. Now give it about half a minute to let the pain peak".
As the scream died down to a loud sob stroke number three landed just
above the base of her buttocks.

Pooch was in total panic. Her heart pounded as to be visible from
across the room. She was hyperventilating, sweating, her nose ran like a
faucet and she was praying for the end, any end.

"Now go back and hit her over the middle of the back again. I bet that
will get an interesting reaction".

On the forth stroke Pooch went hysterical. The scream didn't stop.
Maybe, she thought, if she screamed as loud as she could without
stopping it would convince the two of them that she just couldn't
stand another blow.

"I told you it would get a reaction". Marla had her feet up and had
started to finger herself left hand underneath the robe while the right hand
held her glass.

"Now come down fast in between the three spots you've already got, and see if you
can get a higher leg kick before stepping into the stroke".

The two loudest cracks followed one right after another. Pooch's body
looked for a stronger way to express it's desperation. She evacuated from
every hole she could expel from. Her nose ran, her eyes, wept her
empty stomach sent up acid, her bladder gushed forward a broad stream
of urine and her bowel shot out a massive turd followed by a gush of gas.
She hung quiet, able to fight
no more.

"You don't allow this, do you Ed? I thought she was better trained".

"This is going to cost you dear" purred Marla.

"Why don't you release her Ed and then snuggle up to me on the chair.

Pooch has a mess to clean up and there's no reason we shouldn't enjoy ourselves
while she does".

"Pooch dear, you are going to have ten minutes to eat up all the piss,
snot, barf and shit that's on the floor.

The floor has to be licked clean. If it takes more than ten minutes it
will cost an extra stroke for every minute. When you're finished and the
floor passes my inspection we will start again from the beginning. I will
not put up with this sort of bull shit. I strongly recommend that you
never try this again. Oh, don't chew the shit, just bite off and swallow.
I want it sitting in your stomach as long as possible".

When Ed unhooked the wrist cuffs Pooch slumped over the cross bar.
Rest, just please give me a second to rest she thought. The ankle cuffs
and gag were removed but still she couldn't force herself to move.

"The clock has started. I suggest you get your ass in gear or you are
going to be a lot sorrier than you already are", said Marla.

Slowly Pooch brought her legs together and pushed of the bar. Her back
was still on fire and the muscles ached so much. Much of the skin was
going a dark maroon color and swelling from the bruising.

"You better catch the end of that river of piss before it spreads too
far, shouted Ed".

Pooch got on her hands and knees and crawled over to were it was
flowing pursed her lips and started to suck in the vile fluid off of
the slimy floor.

"Work that tongue to get into all the bumps", said Marla, and use the
back of your tongue and not just the tip. I want you to get all of the taste.
You have nine minutes left".

Marla was now sitting on Ed's lap with the judges robes up over her
hips showing nothing underneath but a thick broad thatch of black hair
and sheer black thigh high stockings leading to black stiletto pumps. Ed was
busy fingering her, spreading her juices over her thighs and bush,
sliding his hand over the glorious, long stockinged legs. As they sipped
Moet & Chandon Ed and Marla were in heaven. As Pooch worked her way
along the floor, tongue scrapped raw, slurping, licking and finally
swallowing her own feces, she was in hell.

After every swallow she wanted to retch and every swallow was harder
to keep down as her belly filled with excrement.

When Pooch was down to tonguing out the bumps in the floor
Marla told her to use her hair to finish cleaning up and then go back to the bar.

"Nine and a half minutes" Marla said. "you finally did something
right. Now lets see if you can behave better while you're being whipped".

Ed lifted Marla of his lap and put her back down in the recliner while
he went to reattach the slave. She winced as her back was bent and she
was stretched towards the wall. Although a lot of the sting was goneher
back ached and was extremely tender.

The stroke of a feather across her back would have brought a
yelp. The taste in her mouth and feeling in her gut had her fighting
back nausea all the time. Ed didn't put the gag back in her mouth.

"Now dear", said Marla, "you can count this as your first lesson in
real discipline. You're not going to be gagged. Ed is going to start
the whipping from the beginning. I know you won't have the self
control to keep quiet but you will count each stroke after it lands and ask for
another, HARDER!, one.

DO I MAKE MYSELF PERFECTLY CLEAR!!", Marla shouted.

"Yes mistress".

"If you fail to respond or loose count we will start over again. Ed,
give her about thirty seconds between lashes to give the slave time to respond.
Go ahead. The first blow crashed across the small of Pooch's back and hurt more
than any of the previous cuts but she had something to concentrate on other than
the pain. She did reflexively scream but collected herself to say

"One. May I please have another, harder one". She started crying.

"Remember Ed, she asked for a harder one".

"I'll do my best to oblige my lovely pain junky". He struck with all
his might. Blood started to ooze from spots that the strap had overlapped.

Pooch fought to keep control.

"Two. May I please have another, harder one", she sobbed.

By the fifteenth stroke Pooch's back was a raw, bloody, inflamed mass
that might have gone through a butchers mechanical meat tenderizer.
Blood was running down her sides and dripping on the floor. Her face
was wet and swollen from crying and her throat was hoarse from
screaming.

"I think that will be enough for tonight", intoned Marla as she wiped
her slimy hand on the chair arm.

"I don't think she really feels it anymore, and I went her coherent for
court. Why don't you put that giant ice bag on her back to keep down
the swelling and you and I will go for a nightcap".

"Good idea" said Ed. He left to get the bag.

When he returned Pooch was screaming once again as Marla massaged tea
tree oil into her open cuts.

"I know this hurts dear, she said, but it's amazing stuff. You'll thank
me for it later. I got it just for you".

Marla finished the back rub and Ed threw the saddle blanket sized ice bag
over Pooch's back.

 

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