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’ ‘Are you feeling better?’ he asked with a serious tone in his voice. ‘Feeling better, I feel fine…what are you talking about,’ she asked. ‘You don’t remember falling off my horse as we crossed the creek and hitting your head?’ If he was making this up he was doing a great job. ‘No, I remember taking a shower outside on the deck,’ was her response. ‘Shower, on the deck,’ he asked. ‘I don’t have a shower on the deck, but that’s not a bad idea.’ The wheels of his mind began to turn with thoughts of an outdoor shower. Now she was confused. Had their entire encounter been a dream? Was she losing her mind, or was he? The silence was broken when he spoke, ‘I brought you in and got you out of those wet clothes and went to make some coffee. I wasn’t sure if you were unconscious or just sleeping, but when you started talking in your sleep I knew you would be ok, and assumed you would be hungry when you woke up.’ He was serious and she was losing her mind. As they finished breakfast. Before he could get over the stinging agony he heard the cane come down again and writhed in agony in his bonds yelping like a girl. Miranda's cunt moistened and tingled with pleasure as she relished his pain, Martha rubbing hers as she watched her friend enjoy exacting just discipline on a male who had been foolish enough to admit his submissiveness; he would now know the full and supreme consequence of being dominated and broken by a superior woman. Miranda was close to orgasm as her swift rhythm had her panties nurse her clitoris, delivering stroke after stroke in a smiling frenzy; the cries and tears of the bound slave music to her ears, her pleasure enhanced as she watched his buttocks quiver with each cut, sweet red lines blossoming as proof of her spiteful handiwork. At last she allowed him time to think on what was happening and savour the punishment served him, if only to let her catch her breath in preparation for the next thrashing. He writhed in pain, crying like a baby.
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