EXTRACT FOR
Sinful Discipline: Victorian BDSM Mega-Bundle
(Anna Austin)

Swish! Swish! Swish! Swish!



Blow upon blow from the birch rained down on my bare bottom. Left cheek, then right, left again, right again ??" the strikes kept coming. The twigs blazed burning paths of pain along my sensitive skin as they struck, and my entire backside soon felt aflame. I was shrieking and yelping, swaying from side to side as I desperately sought to avoid my husband's fierce onslaught on my tender rump. But it was no use ??" the leather straps that enclosed my wrists were fastened tight, and all I managed to achieve was to make myself sway from side to side on the rope. Tears of pain and humiliation were now rolling down my cheeks, and I prayed to heaven that my ordeal would end soon.



But ??" there was more to it than that. Though my mind raged against the unjust punishment my husband was inflicting on me, my body was more... conflicted.



Did it hurt? By God yes, worse than any pain I had ever experienced. Was it humiliating? Of course. I was bound and naked, my wrists tied together as I swayed back and forth, a tempting target for my husband's perversions. And yet ??" I was beginning to feel a certain... enjoyment. Every time the birch struck a jolt of pain shot through my body, leaving me breathless and tearful. But once the pain receded a kind of tingling sensation remained, a prickling of nerves that was not at all unpleasant. Even more pronounced was the ache that was developing between my thighs. Not a painful ache, but more one of desire and yearning. I realized that I was becoming wet down there, and I was filled with an overwhelming urge to reach down and touch myself.



How could this be? The sensation was not entirely unfamiliar to me. On occasion when I bathed I had closed my eyes, summoned up images of my Prince Charming, and then reached down to part my delicate petals and pleasure myself. I had even rubbed the delicate nub above my opening, and I had found that with vigorous motion I could transport myself to a world of bliss that seemed barely possible. But that was in very different circumstances. 



How was it that my pussy was growing hot and wet as my husband mercilessly punished me? He had readily admitted that he was a pervert, but were his actions exposing me as a kind of pervert too? Could it be that while he took a twisted delight in inflicting pain, I could be induced to arousal by receiving it?



I did not know. But as my husband delivered the final few strokes of the birch to my smarting, quivering backside the ache between my legs was unbearable, and my cunny was sopping wet.



Swish! Swish! Swish!



The last few strokes landed, not quite as powerful as before, and then Sebastian lowered the birch. He was breathing heavily, panting with the exertion of the beating he had just delivered. I too was gasping for breath, tears streaming down my cheeks as I hung there. I was swaying violently from side to side, but my husband put out a hand to steady me, and then leaned in to inspect his handiwork.