After the tattoo placed by her owner on her backside had healed, Anne's real training began. In her garter-belt and stockings, she was brought to the training shed that stood, well-hidden, in the woods behind the manor, well out of the earshot of anyone who did not know that Jacob Burns had bought himself a new sex-slave.
Taking his time, because he intended to take photos that he hoped he could sell, and he thus wanted to make sure the rope-work was as perfect as it could be, Jacob trussed Anne's arms up to the post that loomed over her prostrate form.
"You'll be here a long while, pet," said Jacob. "It's not too uncomfortable, I hope?"
"No, Sir," replied Anne, who was already terribly warm between her thighs just at the tension of her posture and the feel of the rope.
Jacob began with the paddle, enjoying at leisure the way his new girl's bottom-cheeks squirmed as they grew rosier and rosier and the way her cries and moans rose and fell. He saved the cane for after his first ride inside her rear, which he enforced on her with vigor. When it was time for the rattan, though, Jacob's favorite implement, he administered her chastisement slowly and ritualistically, instructing her as he did in the ways of pleasing him, and telling her exactly how lovely her bottom looked, with its new stripes under the tattoo with his initials.
Between Anne's thighs, the moisture flowed ever warmer, it seemed to her, even as she cried out in pain at each new stripe. When at last, after the caning, Jacob rewarded her, ritually, with his hand, the ritual rope made her climax something she had never dreamed she could feel.
Photo via the marvelous Magdy Love.