Return to Avondale

"Then whip me. Hard. If you play namby-pamby with me you're not proving your love. Turn it on. If

I know you like I think I know you, you'll start gettin' turned on after a bit and then it'll be funtime for you."

Pamela never ceased to be amazed at the many ways Donna showed her love each day. One would think she was an experienced mature forty, rather than a cute seventeen.

Pamela brought the whip screaming across

Donna's back

"Owwwwww," howled Donna, "… that's better! OWW! Whooee!"

Pamela whipped her back ten times before turn- ing to the cat. There were little trickles of blood from some of the deeper cuts on Donna's back, but not enough for concern.

Pamela's wetness began at about the fifth smack of the cat across Donna's pretty bottom. The emo- tion of knowing that it was she who made Donna's cheeks bounce so terribly was strange, and very exciting. Pamela had dreamed of the time when she could whip a girl. Then when it turned out to be

Donna she had vacillated. Now, she was glad that her first time was with her adorable little wife!

Yet still when it was-time to whip Donna's breasts, she hesitated. She knew every inch of those lovely items, by hand and mouth. She loved them, and they belonged to her. How could she punish them with the cruel Angel's Kiss? Her first hit with the rubber whip hardly made Donna's breasts bounce. The second and third were placed high and low,

"Darling, you're supposed to whip a girl across her nipples. You're aiming to miss mine pur- posely," said Donna with a sigh. "If you're gonna

whip a girl, do it right, else what's the sense? I shall whip your nipples terribly, so if you just want to play games with… OWWWW! Cor, girl, you got, 'em that time!"

It might have been Donna's words or it might have been her growing wetness which made her begin to lash Donna's breasts with a fervor. More than likely it was the age-old and unexplainable instinct of females. History had shown, over and over again, that even a girl who had never whipped another, and was forced to do so against her will, began to whip harder and harder and harder as a virginal passion began to rear itself. Later the girl might well shake her head in disbelief at how terri- bly hard she had lashed her victim in those mo- ments of uncontrollable frenzy!

Whatever the reason, Donna's breasts bounced wildly under the torrent of blows. Her head thrashed and her screams were like sirens in the night, as Pamela hit them with increasing force.

Donna fought back the tears.

"God, Pam. Jan never hit my tits that hard..It was beautiful. You hurt me a lot, but I love you all the more for it. I'm close to coming,"

"Spread your legs, cunt!" Donna squealed in ecstasy at being called that by her lover for the first time. Pamela had said it in the fun of the game of course, but it was exciting for both of them. A slave to a slave!

"Yes, mistress Pamela," replied Donna, going along with the erotic scenario. Both girls felt on the verge of exploding into bits, and by the time the first lash up between the legs was delivered by

Pamela, Donna was a veritable sea of wetness. The blow smacked liquid into the air. It was too much for Pamela to continue, and she threw the Angel's

Kiss onto the floor and held Donna tightly, as they both moaned and writhed in joint orgasm.

They would do it again a short time later when

Pamela hung gasping from Donna's whips.

Chapter Seven

Pamela and Donna had been called into Ravan's office. They weren't particularly apprehensive because they had done nothing wrong. And of course they had still two months to serve. They were curious therefore, because it was not often that girls were summoned by Ravan.

Ravan looked lovely. She always did, but espe- cially so on this day. Her gown was black, and slit up to the waist on one side. The girls marvelled at her legs. Ravan was an inspiration to the girls of teenage years. The age of forty had always seemed so "old." Yet Ravan disproved the belief that, a woman was "over the hill" at that point. Her slim, sleek legs and full chest so apparent under the gown bodice proved that a woman of fort,y, if she took care of herself, was still vibrant and very desirable. Pamela worshipped Ravan, and vowed that at forty she would still look so attractive.

"How would you girls like to be serving maids at my home for my bridge club next Saturday night?" she asked.

The girls were stunned and extremely honored.

They had heard that on occasion Avondale girls were chosen by Ravan to provide domestic service at one of her "rather interesting" parties. Only the very best girl or two were selected for that honor.

It took exemplary behavior and the finest of acceptance to Avondale's training ordeals. In effect, Ravan chose only those who were well on their way to becoming beautiful young women!

Nothing could have been so prestigious as to be selected for such a thing!

Both girls curtsied, an act not performed often outside of meeting the Queen.

"We'd be honored, Ravan," said Pamela with total humility.