Birching Miss Birch

by The Technician

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© Copyright 2015 - The Technician - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/f; FM/f; D/s; office; camp; cabin; enslave; strip; bdsm; spank; electro; punish; shave; tattoo; reward; hum; edging; denial; sex; climax; cons/reluct; X

A Mad Bitch Office Manager is tamed by her secretary. An autocratic and abusive office manager, known by all who work under her as “The Mad Bitch,” is retrained during a weekend “Wilderness Bonding Experience” and turned into a submissive slave, lily.

Slave lily is a natural-born pain-slut, so this story– eventually– gets to a lot of pain and humiliation. If that isn’t your preferred genre, you might want to skip this story. Also, all sex is F/f, so if you want M/F or M/f, this isn’t your story.

I said “eventually,” because I am currently in the process of writing another book under the Wayne Mitchell name and my editor has told me to spend more time developing the plot situations. I’m testing it out in this story. There is absolutely no sex in the prologue, so you can skip that if you want and the story still makes sense. Once it gets to the good stuff, it stays good to the end.

The story is in three parts. Each part stands more or less on its own, but makes more sense if you have read the previous parts.

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Prologue (The background information nobody ever reads)

When Gustaf Otto Birke boarded the boat that would take him to America, he was certain of two things. One, he would escape the terrible circumstances that all Germans found themselves in following their terrible defeat in “The Great War,” and two, he would become  an American.

His brother had emigrated to the new world  in 1908 before the war, and both he and his children, especially during the war years, were subjected to great teasing and distress because of their German heritage.

Gustaf knew what his brother and his family had gone through and was determined that he, and his family, would “fit in.” His children and grandchildren would not have to face the teasing and humiliation that his nieces and nephews had faced.
The war had interrupted his plans to join his brother but, meanwhile, his conscription into the intelligence branch of the German army gave him the chance to learn American culture and perfect American English. He would not have the problem of a German accent in his new land.

And he would not have the problem of a German name. Gustaf now knew that whatever name he gave at immigration would be his name in the new world. So, he would not just transliterate his name from the German to the English alphabet and spelling, as did many immigrants. He would translate his name from German to English when he declared himself to the immigration clerk. And so it came to pass that on May 05, 1919, Gary Birch left Ellis island to begin his new life in America.

Had he been more acquainted with American slang, he might have reconsidered his name choice. If he had done so, perhaps his great-great-granddaughter, Amanda, would have turned out slightly differently than she did.

Chapter One of Three

Amanda  Jo Birch was shaped by her strict German heritage but even more so by her name– or perhaps more specifically by the cruel corruption of that name which plagued her as she grew up. Amanda Birch always told people, “Call me ‘Maddy,’” and most used that name. But throughout her school years, behind her back– and sometimes even to her face– she was referred to by her classmates as “Miss Bitch.”
As is often the case, it’s difficult to say if her acerbic approach to life was the result of the teasing, or the teasing was the result of the angry way in which she approached life and the people around her. Most likely it was a combination of both.

In grade school, “Miss Bitch” was primarily because when teased, she didn’t resist or respond to the person teasing her, but instead sought out some weaker or more vulnerable girl upon which to unleash her anger.

Later, as she began to grow into her name, her classmates changed their taunt to “The Mad Bitch.” She proved more than worthy of that name by opening multitudes of social media accounts under a variety of names and then using them to post snarky or even malicious comments on her fellow students’ pages. Everyone suspected that it was actually her, but no one– including the police when they became involved– were able to prove anything.

Regardless of what began her spiral into bitchiness, by the time that Maddy Birch graduated from college and entered the business world, she was, in fact, a real, 24-caret, “bitch.” Her innate German determination and drive enabled her to rise quickly to middle management level where she just as quickly stagnated because the employees under her did not seem to respond as expected to her autocratic and brutal management style.

Those who were unfortunate enough to work under her did not know that they were continuing years of tradition when they referred to her– when she could not hear them, of course– as “The Mad Bitch.” But the name now suited her perfectly.

No other office manger wrote up people for minor violations of the company dress code. No other manager reported those who took a little bit longer than usual lunch hour to celebrate a co-worker’s upcoming marriage or childbirth. But the Mad Bitch did.

Her behavior and personality became so well-known that it soon became the general practice throughout the entire company to refer to her at all times as “Miss B,” and let the other person fill in either Birch or Bitch in their own mind.

Four years had now passed with Maddy as office manager and she was starting to get desperate. She knew very well the standard business rule of “before five to stay alive.” If you did not move upward within five years of entering a particular level or position, you were effectively locked into your current position for life.

Upper management was open only to “young, up and coming talent,” not old, stagnated people who had reached the peak of their ability. Four years had passed. She had one more year to prove herself, or her dreams of reaching the heights of the business world would be forever lost.

It was, of course, not her fault– nothing ever was. It was the fault of those ungrateful slobs who worked under her. They did not appreciate her skill and power and did not do what she demanded of them. They were holding her back.

The final straw was when she was accidentally included on an email that circulated throughout her office. Attached to the email was a colorful image showing a caricature of her in an exaggerated leather dominatrix outfit with a whip in her hands. A speech balloon from the stocking-clad image said, “The beatings will continue until the morale in this office improves.”  The signature on the image in very ornate script was “The Mad Bitch.”

For several minutes after she opened the email, Maddy sat at her desk trembling. She had to bring the office under control, or all was lost. She immediately closed her email program and began searching the net for some miracle program or technique that might save her doomed career. There were hundreds of possible programs and retreats intended to improve an office environment, but none of them seemed to be what she needed. Then she saw the ad from “Wilderness Bonding Experiences.”

There were two things about the ad which immediately caught her attention. The first was the claim in bold font across the top of the page, “Turn your office around in a weekend– your company in only seven days.” The second was in much smaller type and located near the bottom of the screen. In barely contrasting font it said, “Now a Subsidiary of KMartin Enterprises.” Wilderness Bonding was owned by the company for which Amanda Birch worked!

The next Monday morning at the general management staff meeting, Maddy floated an idea to upper management. “I understand,” she began, “that we have recently acquired a division that does team bonding training in a wilderness area in Kentucky.”

She waited until the proper faces had turned toward her and continued, “I was thinking that perhaps we should use one of our properly working areas to test out their system. Then, if we have a problem somewhere, we have already vetted the process.”

She had prepared several different arguments intended to convince upper management to select her office for the test. But before she could begin any of her prepared presentation, her boss surprised her by heartily agreeing with her suggestion.
“That is a very good idea, Miss Birch,” he bubbled. “And since it is your idea, I think that you and your office should be the ones to test out this process. We can have temps and the night shift cover your workload for a couple days while you are all gone.”

He then leaned close to the regional supervisor sitting next to him and said, “Sometimes it’s handed to you on a silver platter. I’ve been wracking my brains trying to figure out how to get her and that office into some sort of intervention and training for almost nine months.”

He coughed slightly to cover his next words. “It was that or fire her outright without clear cause. She is starting to be a real pain in the ass. I’m pretty sure this training is going to be another fiasco for her, but it will solve things for me one way or the other.”

The man next to him laughed, “And I’ve been trying to find a way to shut down that program so we can sell off their land. It overlooks a lake and is right next to a national park. We could subdivide it and make a killing. Her going down in flames gives you the excuse to fire her, and having them fail at turning her office around could be just the excuse I need to close out the program.”

Maddy, however, heard none of this as she inwardly rejoiced that she had an opportunity to whip her subordinates into shape. Give them a weekend in the wilderness alone with her, and no one would ever question her authority again.

Her moment to savor this victory was cut short, however, by her boss’s curt order, “Make sure you sell this to your section, Maddy. From everything I’ve read, the people have to want to do this or it won’t work.”

‘That might be a problem,’ she thought to herself. ‘Anything that I propose will immediately be rejected by those clowns... except Darla.’

Darla Lewis was her personal assistant. She had been with Maddy for nine years– since the first day both of them came to work for the company. “I am hitching my wagon to your star,” Darla had said to her that day. “You’ve got the degree and the proper background. It also looks like you have the looks, the connections and the right skin color to move up. You can go far, and you are taking this fat, little black girl from the projects all the way to the top with you.”

Darla then tilted her head and turned it slightly so that it appeared that she was looking at Maddy with just one eye. With Maddy’s full attention, she said, “You promise me that you will always take me with you, and I promise you that I will do whatever it takes to get you there.”

Maddy knew that Darla was possibly starting to regret her choice, but she was still intensely loyal and had helped smooth out more than one incident in the office before it boiled completely out of control. Darla would sell it to the rest of the office. Maddy could count on her.

In fact, Darla not only “sold it” to the office, she made all of the arrangements, including arranging for child care for any of the single parents in the office. The company was going to pay for everything, and as an added bonus, not only would the Friday and Monday travel days not count against vacation time as it did in some companies, the office staff would receive one extra vacation day for each day of the training, including the Saturday and Sunday. Both of those items were Darla’s ideas and she sold them not only to the office staff, which was relatively easy, but also to the upper echelon in accounting that would have to approve the expenses.

It took a month to put it all together, but the Wilderness Bonding Experience was finally in place. Darla even suggested that it would be better if they used a bus to travel to the site together. Maddy presented that to upper management as her own idea, but Darla was the one, of course, who made all those arrangements, too.

So one Friday morning in September, Darla, Maddy, and the entire office staff which worked under her boarded a 40-passenger bus headed for a small town in the mountains of Kentucky. Darla, in her typical efficient style, distributed an “In Case You Have Never Been To Camp Before” memo telling everyone what to bring and what to expect. She even reminded them that early fall in the mountains can be a bit nippy so they should bring proper clothing for outside activities.

Darla and Maddy sat alone in the front row seat across from the driver for the long drive. As was often the case when they were alone, Darla had let her speech slip into the ghetto dialect of her youth, “Miss Birch,” Darla told her as they got close to their destination, “there’s a whole lot o’ shit goin’ on here that you ain’t ’ware of. I’ve got connections wit’ other secretaries and assistants and I know what’s goin’ down.”

Maddy looked at her with obvious concern on her face as she continued. “You gonna have to trust me on this. I know what’s got to happen, and it will get you dat promotion by the end of the year.”

“OK, I guess,” Maddy answered.“But you really should have let me know sooner.”

“You might not have agreed to come if you knew the complete parameters of the program that is planned for this intended bonding experience,” Darla replied. Maddy was somewhat taken aback as she realized that Darla’s home-girl language had suddenly morphed into perfect English.

Darla’s face also suddenly lost its perpetual smile and wide eyes. “I learned long ago,” she said, “that Phi Beta Kappa and Magna Cum Laude don’t mean shit if you’re just a fat little black girl from the projects. If I was white, or at least pretty by white standards like Halle Berry, I might have had a chance. But after I graduated, there were no job offers for a flat nosed, big-lipped African beauty like me.”

Her eyes were now boring into Maddy’s as she continued, “I decided that the only way to make a difference for those coming up behind me was to grab onto somebody’s white ass and ride his or her coattails to the top. An executive assistant ends up making most of the decisions anyway. I thought you had the potential to go all the way, and you do... if you would just stop being a Nazi Bitch and treat people right.”

Maddy’s mouth and eyes were now wide open. She was about to put Darla back in her place, but was interrupted by the swoosh of air brakes setting and the hiss of the front door opening. “Everybody out,” yelled Darla. “Your bonding experience begins now.”

Maddy was still trying to say something as Darla pulled her out of the seat and guided her down the steps to the ground. A tall, athletic-looking black woman was waiting for them, along with several other equally athletic men and women. All were wearing form-fitting jeans and sweatshirts with the Wilderness Experience logo over their hearts.

“Good to see you, Darlene,” the tall woman said.

“We’re both a long way from the projects, aren’t we Jessie?” Darla replied. “Everything set up?”

“You and the Mad Bitch are out in the solitude cabin,” Jessie answered. “You will be out there totally by yourselves so no one can interfere. We’ll do the team building with the rest of the office here at the center until you join us Sunday night.”

“Wait a minute!” Maddy sputtered in anger. “What do you mean we’ll be separate? This whole thing is about getting the office to recognize my power.”

Both Darla and Jessie laughed, and Darla replied, “No, Miss Bitch. This whole thing is about saving my ass– and Miss Jessie’s. And to do that I have to save your ass... among other things.”

She pointed down a long path. “You and I are going out to the solitude cabin for a little management training. While we’re gone, your office is going to learn how to work together and how to be the best office in the company.”

She then smacked Maddy on the rump of her designer sweat pants and said, “Now grab your things and get your skinny white ass moving.”

Maddy turned to directly face Darla ready to tell her off, but the look on Darla’s face immediately cowed her and she picked up her briefcase and travel bag from the row of things set out by the driver and began walking down the path in the direction Darla had indicated. Darla picked up her suitcase and a rather large duffle bag and followed her down the path.

The cabin was almost a mile away. The walk was long, but not overly difficult since the path was paved and smooth. Maddy was even able to wheel her suitcase behind her on the path. When they got to the cabin, it was locked, but Darla produced a key from her pocket and let them both in.

The sign above the entrance said “Solitude,” which matched the isolated setting for the cabin. The interior of the cabin was small, but relatively modern. In the large front  area, there were two beds– a double and a single– a small table with four chairs, and a huge, stone fireplace. A door behind the beds was open revealing a small, but modern looking bathroom taking up one corner of the cabin. A small, but complete, kitchen area, took up the other half of the back of the cabin.

Darla set her suitcase and large duffle bag down near the fireplace and walked back to re-lock the door behind them.

“You really don’t think anyone will be trying to get in, do you?” observed Maddy.

Darla laughed and answered, “No, I am making sure that no one can get out.”  The laugh left her voice– and her face– as she turned to Maddy and ordered, “Now strip!”

“What?!” Maddy screamed. “No! I will not strip. Why should I?”

“Because deep down, you know that you want to,” answered Darla softly but firmly. “You gave me a copy of your encrypted password file in case your computer drive ever crashed. You didn’t give me the password to open it, but I have the same password program on my computer.”

Darla shook her head slightly as she spoke, “It didn’t take much to guess your username and password. Your whatever-grandfather’s immigration papers hang on the wall behind your desk, and you look at them every morning like they were a Picasso.”

“User name,” she said, “Amandah Birke– German version of your name.” She then spelled out, “M-a-y-0-5-1-9-1-9" and laughed. “I signed in as you and got all of your other user names and passwords, including your personal ones that you never use at work. Then I checked out ALL of the sites you have been visiting.”

Maddy stood sputtering, “How could you?!”

“I had to,” Darla replied, almost yelling. “You were going down in flames, girl, and you didn’t even have the brains to know what was happening. You never even realized that the whole purpose of this weekend was to give them sufficient cause to fire you... and to close out my friend, Jessie’s, program.”

She huffed again in anger and spat out, “I had to do something.”

Darla turned Maddy so they were standing face to face. “When I first looked at the sites you were visiting, I thought you really were a God-damned sadist because that matched up with how you have been treating the people under you. You have a very interesting internet history. You spend most of your evenings visiting a lot of sites showing women tying up women... and spanking women... and forcing women to orgasm. At first, I pictured you getting yourself off staring at those images imagining that it was me beneath your lash.”

She laughed again, this time very deeply. “But then I found your chat logs, and your electronic diary.”

Maddy was starting to cry.

“You aren’t a sadist,” Darla growled. “You’re a pain-slut who is afraid that people will find out about you, so you act like a bitch in public and masturbate to pain-slut porn in private. That’s why you act like a bitch and push everyone away!”

Another sarcastic huff of breath showed her anger.  “But it’s all an act. You weren’t trying to dominate or bully them. You were afraid they would dominate you... but at the same time you craved it. You wanted it. You needed it. Because in the depth of your soul, you are just a natural born pain-slut.”

“No. No! That isn’t true,” whimpered Maddy.

“All these years that you have been pushing and provoking people you have been secretly hoping that someone would finally snap and fight back... or even enslave you. And the reason that you treated the women under you even worse is that you were secretly hoping that it would be a woman who finally revolted against you.”

“No, No, that isn’t true,” Maddy repeated. This time her voice was much softer.

“I thought I could push you to the top by being the power behind your throne, but I was wrong. For you to get to the top, I need to be the Dominatrix over my Sub.”

Once more, Maddy whimpered, “No... no... that isn’t true.”

“If it wasn’t true,” Darla snapped, “You wouldn’t be taking off your blouse right now.”

Maddy looked down at her hands which were unbuttoning the last of the buttons on her blouse.

“You’re a pain-slut in need of a Mistress,” Darla barked out. “And I am going to correct that.”

Her voice got stronger and louder, taking on a tone Maddy had never heard before as she ordered, “Now strip... and that means everything including your watch, rings, and earrings. I want you naked, kneeling at my feet like the submissive slut you really are.”

Maddy sighed and kicked off her sandals. She slowly slipped her blouse off her shoulders. Then she began removing her sweat pants... then her blouse... then her bra. Her jewelry came next. Finally she was standing trembling in just a pale blue pair of panties.

Darla stared at her for a moment and then walked over to the large duffle bag she had brought to the camp with her. She returned with a black leather crop and stood there in front of Maddy slapping it softly against her hand.

She said nothing, but Maddy gave a soft moan and slowly lowered her panties to the ground.

“Because I had to convince you to finish stripping,” Darla said sternly, “there is a punishment due before you kneel before me. Put your hands on that chair.”

Maddy did so and a loud smack resounded as Darla raised a welt on her ass with the crop.

“Now you may kneel,” Darla said, and Maddy sank to her knees on the floor at her feet.

Darla said nothing for several moments. But during that time, for some reason, a slight smile appeared on Maddy’s face as she knelt before her Mistress. The thought, ‘I’m actually happy this is happening,’ ran through her mind.

Maddy had reason to be happy. All of the anxiety and fear that had plagued her for so many years was suddenly gone. A sense of peace flowed over her as she looked up into the face of her new Mistress. ‘It’s true,’ she said silently to herself– or at least she thought she said silently.

“Repeat that loud enough for me to hear it clearly,” ordered Darla. “Slaves don’t keep things from their masters!”

Maddy remained silent in shock that she may have expressed those inner thoughts out loud. The crop once again descended on her ass. “What did you say?” asked Darla. “Shout it out loud and clear or I will beat your ass until it bleeds.”

“I said, ‘It’s true,’” answered Maddy loudly. “It’s true. I’m a natural-born pain-slut. All the mean things that I’ve been doing to people all these years have all been so they wouldn’t find out.”

“But I found out, didn’t I?” said Darla with an evil-looking smile. “Now I know the truth about you. You are nothing but a natural-born pain-slut. And the truth about me is that I am a natural-born Mistress who would love to give you all the pain and humiliation that you can ever stand. We are going to make a great team from now on, my little lily-white pain-slut.”

Darla stepped slightly backward and sat down on a chair that she had pulled out from the table.

“This weekend is just the beginning,” she said softly, but sternly. “In the days and weeks to come, I am going to use a system of reward and punishment to turn you into my perfect slave. And I am going to train that perfect slave to be a perfect manager when she’s in public and a perfect submissive when she is home alone with me or with my friends.”

Maddy remained silent with her head down as Darla continued, “We are going to start tonight with a true combination of reward and punishment.” She lifted Maddy’s chin and asked, “As you masturbated to all those images and videos on those nasty web sites you were visiting, which one turned you one the most?”

When Maddy only stared back at her in confusion, Darla laughed and said loudly, “What kind of punishment turns on my little lily-white pain-slut the most?” She paused before continuing, “I am letting you choose your first punishment as a reward.”

Maddy still looked confused so Darla said, “You still don’t get it, do you? You are my slave now, and I am giving you the reward of being able to cum while I punish you. What did you see on line that really popped your cork?”

She paused and added, “We’re are going to recreate that live...right here...tonight.”

Maddy slowly stammered out, “A spanking... a naked spanking... naked over the lap of a Mistress... a naked Mistress... a naked, black Mistress... ... with a leather paddle.”

“My, my, my,” responded Darla. “You are juicing up just telling me that.”

She laughed again with a deep laugh that seemed to go right through Maddy. “And this is your lucky night, cause I have a chair, and I have a leather paddle in my bag. All this black Mistress has to do is get naked and beat your ass purple until you cum all over me.”

Darla laughed again, but this time it almost sounded like a normal laugh. “This is going to hurt you a lot more than it hurts me, but I think we are both going to really enjoy this.”

She stood up. “You stay right there, lily– I like that name. That is what I will call you from now on, ‘lily,’ for lily-white pain-slut slave. Now, lily, you stay right there on your knees– and try not to drip on the floor too much while I get ready.”

Darla walked over to the closets which were built into the side wall of the large cabin and started hanging up her clothes. When she was standing naked, she came back and got her suitcase and duffle bag. Additional clothing from the suitcase was also hung in the closet. A matched set of black leather bustier, gloves, and boots as well as an assortment of whips, paddles, and restraints were pulled out of the duffle bag and laid out on one of the beds.

Maddy alternated between looking at the growing puddle on the floor between her knees and the array of leather instruments on the bed.  Finally, Darla returned and stood in front of her. She was totally naked and her black skin shone slightly in the soft light of the cabin.

She was a “large woman,” but there were no folds of fat hanging from her body. Instead her body was rounded– large, but also very fit. There was obviously a lot of muscle under those curves. Her pubic hair was not shaved, but her extremely tight curls concealed neither her large labia nor her prominent clit.

She pulled a chair over in front of Maddy and sat down. “Put your skinny ass over my lap,” she ordered, and Maddy fell forward onto all fours, crawled over to the chair and lifted herself over Darla’s lap.

“First order of business,” Darla said as she patted Maddy on the ass, “is to teach you the proper position for this.” She spanked Maddy really hard once with her bare hand. “I want nothing but your fingertips and the tips of your toes touching the ground.”

Maddy immediately went into the described position. “And I want you across my lap so that your hip bones are on my right leg and the middle of your rib cage is on my left leg.”

Again, Maddy shifted so that she was in the proper position. “And finally, I want your ass turned up as far as you can turn it so I can see the pink of that dripping cunt of yours.”

Maddy arched her back trying to rotate her ass upwards. “More than that!” Darla commanded. She emphasized her command with another hard smack of her bare hand. “More than that!” Another smack.

Darla repeated the command– and smacks– three more times before she was satisfied. “How many strokes do you think you deserve with this paddle?” she asked as she tapped the leather paddle lightly against Maddy’s upturned ass.

“I don’t know,” whimpered Maddy.

“I tell you what,” Darla replied. “There are 32 people in the office, not counting you and me. Let’s keep this simple. How many strokes do you think you should get for each person in the office?”

“Th... th... three?” stuttered Maddy.

“I was thinking two, but three it is,” answered Darla. “You are going to count each stroke, and if you miss one, I start over. The proper way to do that is to give the count and then thank me for it. That means you say, ‘One. Thank you, Mistress Darla. Two. Thank you, Mistress Darla.’ all the way up to 96.”

She tapped Maddy ass slightly harder with the paddle and asked, “You got that, lily?”

“Yes,” Maddy answered.

Darla slammed the paddle very hard into Maddy’s ass and said, “That should be ‘Yes, Mistress Darla.’ That is what you are to call me from now on. If we are alone, it is ‘Mistress Darla.’ If we are in public, like at work, it is ‘Miss Darla.’ You and I will know that Miss is short for Mistress.” A light tap with the paddle was followed by, “You got that, lily?”

“Yes, Mistress Darla,” Maddy answered.

“Good,” Darla replied. “We are starting now. Remember, you lose count and we start over.”

She then brought the paddle down smartly on Maddy’s ass. It wasn’t an overpowering blow. Darla knew that it was just the first of 96, and she had promised lily that she could cum from the spanking. Pain-slut or no, beginning with overwhelming pain would not bring about sexual pleasure.

Maddy– lily– dutifully counted each stroke. Darla was afraid that perhaps the rising pain would make it difficult for her slave to stay on track and give the proper count in the proper fashion, but that was not the case. The pain was not overwhelming lily–pleasure was.

Years of suppressed submissiveness was bubbling up from the depths of Maddy’s being with each smack of the paddle. As slave lily she was now free to be the submissive slut she was born to be. Each slap of the paddle against her skin sent waves of pleasure throughout her body. That pleasure seemed to flow from the heat of her ass cheeks to between her legs from where it radiated out to the rest of her body.

By the time she said, “Forty-eight. Thank you, Mistress Darla,” she was vibrating and quivering on Darla’s lap.

“Don’t you dare cum, lily, until we reach 96,” Darla ordered. “You are my slave now. I OWN you. I own everything about you– and that includes your orgasms. You will cum when I say you can, not before.”

Maddy continued to shiver and shake on Darla’s lap. Her motions were practically throwing her body off of Darla’s knees, but somehow she kept her orgasm under control.

Slap! “Ninety-three. Thank you, Mistress Darla.”

Slap! “Ninety-four. Thank you, Mistress Darla.”

Slap! “Ninety-five. Thank you, Mistress Darla.”

Slap! “Ninety-six. Thank you, Mistress Darla.”

“NOW you may cum!” Darla barked out and Maddy’s body spasmed and shook. Her back arched so greatly that both her hands and her feet were pulled from the ground so that she was balanced on Darla’s lap. Actually, she was balanced on Darla’s right leg, furiously grinding her pubic mound into Darla’s muscled thigh.

She screamed and rocked in that position for a couple of minutes before totally losing control of her body. Her arms and legs flailed wildly as she tumbled to the floor. She lay there on her back thrashing and screaming until the intense orgasm finally subsided and she lay panting in a puddle of her own sweat and cum.

Darla laughed and said, “I guess that removes any doubt in either of our minds about whether or not you are a natural-born pain-slut, doesn’t it, my lily-white pain-slut slave?”

“Yes, Mistress Darla,” Maddy answered. “It does.”

“Stand up and let me look at you a little closer,” Darla ordered, and Maddy drunkenly wobbled to a standing position.

“Hands on your head,” Darla snapped. “Feet a little more than shoulder-width apart.”

Maddy did as ordered.

“Pull your elbows back as far as you can so they are even with your back.”

Maddy adjusted her posture.

“If I tell you to present yourself,” Darla explained in a firm voice, “this is the position you get your ass into. You got that?”

“Yes, Mistress Darla.”

“I see that you shave your armpits,” Darla said matter-of-factly, “and you trim the hedge a little.”

Maddy blushed slightly at that intimate description of her personal hygiene.
“But I want you as smooth as a baby’s ass,” Darla continued. “For now, I am going to shave you properly, but once we get back, I am going to make arrangements for permanent hair removal. You got that?”

“Yes, Mistress Darla.”

“I like the sound of that,” Darla laughed. “Do you like saying it, lily?”

“Yes, Mistress Darla,” she said, her face coloring deeply at the shame of that admission.

Darla just laughed even louder in response. “Get your white ass up on that bed. Take the covers down so we don’t get them wet or messed up and I am going to cut the grass.”

Maddy pulled the covers from one of the beds and lay back on the sheet. “Scootch your white ass down so your legs are bent over the end of the bed at the knees... and spread those legs so I can get at your hairy cunt.”

Maddy did as instructed. Meanwhile, Darla again went over to her duffle bag and returned with a small electric hair trimmer, a can of shaving cream, and a package of razors. “This is actually a mustache and beard trimmer,” Darla said, “but your cunt beard isn’t much different than a man’s face beard. Once we get this trimmed back, I will shave off the stubble.”

The buzzing of the trimmer filled the cabin for several minutes. Darla whistled to herself softly as she worked. When it was finally silent, Darla said, “The trees are felled. Time to clear the land.”

She shook the can of shaving cream violently for a few moments and then sprayed a goodly dollop into her hand. As she rubbed the white foam into Maddy’s cunt she said, “This is menthol. It will start feeling a little cold in just a bit and might sting a little but it works best for taking off the stubble.”

She looked up at Maddy’s face from between her legs. “You know, I used to do this in my momma’s beauty shop. Most of the time we did this and the intimate waxing in a back room, but once in a while we would have someone who wanted it done right out there in the main shop. There was one girl– a skinny white girl just like you– who wanted it done in chair number one, right up there by the front door. Local kids would see her come into the shop and would gather at the window waiting to see some white pussy. She always turned red as hell and said that she was soooo embarrassed, but by the time we were done, she would be flowing like a fountain.”

She ran a finger through Maddy’s slit, causing her to gasp loudly and then moan. “I bet you would do this on the sidewalk out in front of the shop.” Darla laughed when Maddy’s cunt spasmed around her finger in response and juices again began to drip from between Maddy’s pink, nether lips.

As Darla was wiping off the leftover shaving cream with a towel, someone knocked at the front door. Maddy automatically started to bring her legs together, but Darla slapped the inside of her thigh and said, “You don’t cover up unless I tell you to cover up. You just lay here on the end of the bed with your cunt hanging out like a good slave while I let LeRoy in.”

LeRoy was a very thin, very black, man who looked like he was somewhere between fifty and a thousand years old. He had the leathery, weathered look that many black men take on early in life and then carry unchanged for many, many years. “Good to see you, Darla,” he said as he came in the door.

“Good to see you, too, LeRoy,” she replied. Then she turned toward the bed and said, “LeRoy here is an artist with the needle. He’s going to mark you for me– just an outline for now. Later we are going to go down to his shop and he will fill in the color and shading. What I want will take several trips downtown, but when we are done, it will look like solid gold lettering on the surface of your skin.”

LeRoy set a small black bag down on the floor between Maddy’s legs and pulled out a small tattoo gun and some other supplies. He rubbed what felt like Vaseline onto the skin just above Maddy’s cunt and then began drawing on it with what looked like an eyebrow pencil. After a few moments he called Darla over.

“Is this exactly what you want?” he said. Then he laughed and added, “Make sure you check the spelling. There ain’t no autocorrect in my needle gun.”

Darla ran her hand lightly over Maddy’s skin as she spelled out, “P-r-o-p-e-r-t-y o-f M-i-s-t-r-e-s-s D-a-r-l-a.” She patted Maddy’s cunt and asked, “Does that sound right to you, lily?”

“Yes, Mistress Darla,” was the immediate response.

“Lily?” questioned LeRoy. “I thought her name was Amanda.”

“You done fo’got yo’ own heritage, boy?” Darla said, slipping back into her ghetto talk. “The name yo’ momma gave you don’t mean squat to da Master. I’m her Mistress and she’s jus’ a lily-white pain-slut. So, her slave name is lily.”

LeRoy responded with a laugh. “Then maybe,” he said, “I need to put some crossed lilies behind the wording once you bring her into the shop.”

“Make me a drawing,” replied Darla, “and give me a price. Maybe we will do that.”

“Only add about $300 to the cost of the tat.” he said. Then he patted Maddy’s mound, looked up at her with a smile, and said, “I ain’t cheap, but I’m worth every penny of it.”

Maddy gasped slightly at the noise as he turned on the tattoo gun. She gasped even louder as the buzzing needles first touched her skin.

LeRoy was indeed very good. He was also very fast. “Simple outline like this don’t take much time at all,” he said as he wiped down the new tat. “And I used the smallest needles so irritation should be minimum. By tomorrow morning, it shouldn’t even be red.”

“Sounds good,” Darla said. “And I’ll settle up for the cost of the outline when I bring her in for the start of the coloring.”

“That also sounds good,” LeRoy replied. “But there is still the matter of reimbursement for my travel.”

“Ah, there is that, isn’t there LeRoy,” Darla laughed. “Lily here will take care of that like we agreed.”

Maddy suddenly realized what Darla might be talking about and started to lift herself up from the bed. Darla pushed her back down and said, “You just stay where you are, lily. LeRoy is already in the right position to collect his travel pay.”

LeRoy stood up and lowered his pants to the ground. His body may have been wire thin and old looking, but his prick was thick and plump and ready to go. He lifted Maddy’s legs up into the air and set them on his shoulders as he pushed forward and entered her in one swift move.

“God, she’s wet and ready,” he said as he slammed into her. “She must have been getting off on the pain of the needles. She’ll probably cum all over my hand while I am doing the color fill-in.”

He continued to thrust in and out of her for several minutes before suddenly shuddering and slamming himself into her one last time. As he stepped back and began to pull up his pants, Darla said gruffly, “What do you say, lily?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she answered.

“What do you say,” Darla continued, “to someone who has given you something.”

“Oh,” said Maddy. “Thank you, Master LeRoy.”

“It’s just Mister LeRoy,” he replied, “but you are very welcome.”

“Don’t worry, LeRoy,” Darla said. “She’ll get it right when she gives you your tip after each layer of the coloring.”

With that, LeRoy collected all of his equipment back into the black bag and departed. After Darla had re-locked the door, she returned to where Maddy was still lying at the end of the mattress. “You just stay there where you are, lily,” Darla said. “You have to learn that you don’t go nowhere unless your Mistress tells you to go there. You got that?”

“Yes, Mistress Darla,” Maddy automatically responded.

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