Cynthia was woken by the sound of a door crashing back. She jerked upright, blinking in the blue-white light of early morning.

'Good morning, lovebirds!' Antoine stood in the doorway. He held a long riding crop in his hand. The tasselled tip slapped against his boot.

'I let you play last night, but today is for work. Overseer - I need you up earlier than this. Fifty strokes of the crop for you! Kneel on the bed. Legs apart. Now!'

Her head still full of sleep, Cynthia scrambled to obey.

'Good. Now, count the strokes and thank me!'

She hardly had time to take a breath before the crop whistled through the air and lashed across her bottom, and what breath she had left her in a whoosh. It hurt! Oh, how it hurt! Although she had been hit with a crop before - thank you, Carla - Antoine was stronger, and the sharp, burning smart of the thing was astonishing. Biting her lip, she managed not to scream, but instead took a few shuddering breaths and said: 'One, thank you.'

Once again, Antoine gave her no time at all; the crop was hissing through the air almost as she uttered the phrase. He must have moved, as the blow came from the other side and the tassel bit wickedly into her thigh.

This time she was ready. She rode the shocking pain and gave the count, and again the whip was moving as she spoke. The tone of the whipping was set.

The crop burned across her rump over and over, and the pain mounted. It was bad, certainly, as bad as any punishment she had yet endured at Mas Gassac, and there was no pleasure in it, even when the tip of crop nipped in to sting the soft flesh between her legs like an angry bee, but she could endure it. Somehow the fact that it was a summary punishment made it easier. She had failed, somehow, in her duties as an overseer! She was being punished, and it was fair.

The strokes mounted, until the whole of her bottom had been scalded, and then at last it was over. She counted off the fiftieth stroke, and heard Antoine's voice through the pounding in her ears. 'Well done. Stand up!'

She stood, gritting her teeth at the pain in her rump.

Antoine tapped the whip against Li, who had remained on the bed throughout Cynthia's whipping. 'Your turn,' he said. 'Fifty strokes, same position. Move!'

Li shuffled into a splayed kneeling position, and Cynthia sucked in her breath at the sight of the girl's bottom. The marks of yesterday's whipping were still dark and vivid, making a thoroughly erotic picture as the tight cheeks parted. I had my tongue up there last night, she thought. Lucky me!

Antoine had started straight in to thrashing Cynthia, but with Li he seemed to be taking his time. He tapped the tip of the crop against her skin and let the tassel skitter over her cunt, almost as if he was tuning an instrument before the orchestra began. Then he braced his legs and swept the crop in for the first stroke, and sure enough the concert started, with a crisp swish and crack from the crop and a shrill howl of pain from Li. The girl's cry was quickly followed by a gulp, and a trembling 'One, thank you.'

Cynthia watched in fascination as the number of strokes mounted. The dark blotches of yesterday's beating became overprinted with fresh pink and crimson, and Li's bottom twitched and flexed delightfully as the crop did its baleful work.

'Ahhh! Twenty, thank you!'

There was no doubt - the spectacle of Li's behind being thrashed scarlet was a sexy one. Cynthia's loins, themselves fresh from the attention of the crop, swelled and became moist as the heat of excitement flowed through her.

'Owww! Thirty, thank you!' Almost the whole of Li's bottom was now bright with fresh weals.

The girl kicked and wriggled as she was thrashed, all modesty being abandoned to the pain of the whip. The lips of her sex twinkled and winked as she moved, but this only exposed them even more to the searching tip of the riding crop.

At last the whipping was over. The sobbing Li gulped out her thanks as the fiftieth stroke scored her flaming behind, and collapsed in a little heap of flogged girl.