She was kneeling in front of Master Thomas, so scared she was beginning to tremble. “It’s time for a new lesson, slut.”

Over the course of the week, Hannah discovered that when she had learned enough lessons… when she was a good enough slut… she could be a pet. She hated being called a slut. “Yes, Master Thomas.”

There was a slight quiver in her voice, but she did not hesitate to follow him over to a padded beam. “Bend over the beam, and look at Mistress Sarah.”

“Yes, Master Thomas.” Hannah folded over the padding, her braid flipped onto the floor, and she looked at an upside down view of the Mistress. So far, no one had fucked anything but her mouth, and she wondered if that was to be the lesson.

She shifted her eyes away from the Mistress when Master Thomas spread her legs and buckled her ankles into cuffs. He linked them to the legs of the beam, and when she glanced at the Mistress again, she touched her eyes and smiled, reminding Hannah to keep her focus on her and not on Master Thomas. Hannah appreciated that the Mistress had not told on her and gotten her punished.

Her wrist cuffs were unhooked, and Master Jeremy sat down on the floor by her side. He latched them under the beam in front of her bare pussy, spread her lips, and Hannah’s bottom tightened when he began to stroke. She immediately moistened, after a week’s worth of conditioning to his touch.

He stood without finishing, and while Hannah continued to watch the Mistress, the Mistress watched the shining hole squeezing slick, shining juice, in preparation for the abandoned orgasm. Master Jeremy had left her horny and she was a little pissed off he had not finished it.

Master Thomas’ knees blocked her vision of the Mistress, and Hannah trembled when his big hand caressed her bottom. Maybe he would help her climax… he never had before… but, maybe, this was the new lesson. His rubbing was making her itch with need, and she rotated her bottom against his hand. When his finger stroked through her cream, she almost begged him to finish her, but instead, he stopped, leaving her even more frustrated.

Hannah gasped when the tail of a whip, dropped onto the floor by Master Thomas’ foot. “I want you to count the strikes, slut. You will say, ‘One, Master Thomas’… and count them all, until your little cunt climaxes. Use your hands, slut. This is not punishment, and you will learn to look forward to your orgasm.”

For the first time in a few days, Hannah’s eyes filled and she shivered. She was scared of being whipped because she remembered the ash branch her daddy used when she was little. It burned and hurt for days. How could she forget about the whip and try to make herself feel aroused if he was going to make her count?

He stepped back until she could see all of him, and her upside down view showed her bulging bronze muscles on his tanned chest. She had never seen him with his shirt off before, and even though she liked guys her own age, the Master was very handsome. His arm drew back and Hannah’s bottom tightened. She heard the Mistress say, “It’s easier if you try to relax, slut.”

Her sister used to tell her that when daddy whipped them, but Hannah never could manage to keep from tightening up. The whip cracked forward across her bottom, and in a second she rose to her toes. “Owww… owww,” she screamed.

“Count for me, slut.”

“One, Master Thomas… it hurts,” she wailed.