Amelia woke with a start, sweat glistening on her ivory skin, her long black hair tumbled around her face. For a brief moment she thought she was back in the room... the image of the large wooden cross looming in her imagination. She shivered, pulling the Doona up over her shoulders as her sweat cooled in the early morning air. It was only a dream. And yet... the dream had been vivid, and the feelings she had experienced frightened her; yet also giving her a delicious sense of - she thought for a moment - yes, pleasure! As she recalled the dream her nipples hardened and her thighs parted a little, with the strange sensations she had experienced; remembered she now realised, from her childhood, and growing into a woman in the convent where she had been boarded and received her education. She had always lived with this sense of fear: had grown up with the ever-present threat of punishment for a range of trivial misdemeanours: three stripes a week meaning the ritual attendance in the Mother Superior's study. She shivered as she remembered the sensation... the waiting from the Friday when the lists were posted of the girls who were to be punished, to Wednesday, the day of punishment. She did not know what was worse; the actual punishment, or the agonising torment of... lying awake in bed, imagining the pain burning her mind. Amelia had had many such visits to the study. Unconsciously her hand moved beneath her, fingers tracing the remembered feeling of the vivid welts burning her firm young buttocks. The vision of the Mother Superior rose before her eyes, a large, severe woman whom she could never recall smiling; the hard bench outside the study; the girls who waited, tears forming in the eyes of the younger ones, trembling at the thought of the ordeal before them, one or two openly weeping. And then, her turn, the door opening, and a novice calling her name. The room was still vivid in her mind: the large windows almost to the floor, overlooking the quadrangle; a heavy glass-doored bookcase against one wall, and a large desk to one side of the window. But the item of furniture which loomed in her memory was the flogging stool:.. not really a stool, in that it was higher and wider than a normal stool, sloping forward, so that the upper body was lower than the buttocks, head almost touching the floor, when the girls were positioned for their caning. Her flesh burning, Amelia recalled with a tremor the terrifying ritual to which she, and so many others had had to submit. Beneath the Doona her thighs parted a little wider, her hand straying across the rise of her stomach, enjoying the feel of the soft slope of her belly, touching the fringe of pubic hair. Outside the window, to one side, stood an old gum tree, one branch extending to hide part of the view from the window. She remembered summer days, with the sun streaming in, shafts of light high-lighting the stool, making it appear as an alter of sacrifice, a payment to... Amelia shivered again at the thought; to a merciless god who seemed to dominate every thought and action in their lives. Beside the stool was a stand, similar to a billiard cue rack, holding a selection of canes. Shuddering, Amelia re-lived the memory; her fingers opening the lips of her vulva, feeling her wetness, an involuntary moan escaping from her throat. The novice would take her arm, firmly but gently, almost with a sense of feeling for the pain she was to suffer, to stand before the mother superior, who was reading from a leather bound ledger in which was recorded each girls offence, and the awarded punishment. "Wainwright! Late twice for mass, and once for PT, and once for being found with hands beneath the bedclothes!" The mother superior towered over her, arms folded across her huge breasts, enclosed in their starched prim whiteness. "Have you anything to say?" Amelia shuddered, recalling the cruelty of her voice. She had long since learned that there was no point in saying anything, it only prolonged the moment, and increased the severity of the whipping. As she relived the fear of her punishment, her fingers caressed her labia, feeling the wetness increasing on her fingers. Her thighs part wider, as she raised her knees and sought the nub of her clitoris, hardening under the pressure of her fingers. Her moans grew louder as the sensation of pleasure coursed through her body, her other hand cupping her breast, the nipple already taut with desire. The mother superior bent to the ledger, and made an entry. "Wainwright, eight strokes!" Amelia tensed, her buttocks tightening as she thrust her fingers deep inside her vulva, anticipating the pain, the tightening of her muscles, remembering the sudden sting as the cane bit into her soft flesh. "Step forward!" At this peremptory command the novice tightened her grip on Amelia's arm, leading her to the stool, gently placing a hand in the small of her back, and bending her over the hard wood surface of the stool, breasts pressing onto the unyielding surface, her hair falling in front of her face, almost touching the floor. When this was done to satisfaction, the novice reached down, lifting her skirt, placing it on the small of her back and baring her bottom, clad only in thin blue cotton underwear, the slender suspender belt just visible above her knickers, holding up the thick black stockings, displaying a few inches of white thigh, vividly contrasted by the black top of the hose. as the hand moved to her ample buttocks, Amelia remembered the sensation of her thighs trembling as the novice's hand lingered on the soft flesh, before reaching for the top of her knickers, and slowly pulling them down, baring her naked bottom, recalling the feel of the sun warm on her body. Hands pushed her forward slightly, forcing her buttocks higher in the air, now parting her clenched thighs, forcing them apart. Amelia resisted, ashamed to show her sex to her tormentors, but the hands ruthlessly spread her, displaying her vulva, the lips forced open, barely covered by her sparse pubic hair. She shuddered again, remembering her spread buttocks high in the air as she awaited the first stroke, hearing again the whistle through the air, the burning sensation as the first cut burned her flesh. As she recalled the sudden stab of pain, the burning sensation pulsing through her body, Amelia thrust herself from the mattress, opening herself still wider for her probing fingers, now thrusting in and put of her sopping cunt. As her orgasm mounted she pushed deeper inside, her buttocks pushing to meet the thrust of her hand, thighs clenching as she strained for release, surges of pleasure spreading within her belly, every nerve taut with anticipation. Removing her fingers, she pressed on the top of her mound, exposing her clitoris, her body arching high in the air, muscles in her vagina clutching and releasing her fingers, a scream of pleasure rising in her throat. As the aftershocks teased her shuddering body, nerves jumping and twitching, Amelia slowly relaxed, her arms and legs splayed wide, her thighs glistening with sweat and her wetness, she recalled the bitter sweet pain as the cane burned her buttocks, and the strange feeling of pleasure beginning in her vulva. Satiated, she fell into a doze, a smile at the corners of her mouth... The sun was high in the sky when Amelia awoke again, her body languid with the thought of her pleasure, recalling the dream which had taken her back to her days in the convent, and the thought of Susannah who had aroused her memories, the forgotten pleasures and pain for so long buried. The party had been a boring affair to farewell Clive Leonard, a senior partner in the firm who was moving to Singapore to take over the South East Asian office. She had joined the brokerage firm on leaving university and now, at thirty two managed the securities area. She was proud of her achievements, especially the fact that she had got without relying on her family, or her undoubted good looks. The only disappointment in her life was the sense of something missing: a feeling of... she mused, her fingers straying to caress her nipples; of... unfulfillment. Even her marriage had been a disappointment. Yes, she acknowledged, Roger had been good looking, and had loved her, yet still there had been the feeling of something missing, particularly in their sex life. She had felt... empty: untouched. She had long ago assumed it was her fault that she never felt pleasure when they made love... she never had, with any of the men she had known. She had always felt a strange thought that she should be punished, especially when she masturbated secretly, after they had screwed, and she felt anger at Roger's insensitivity toward her own pleasure. Yet, somehow the little voice telling her it was her own fault would not be stilled. She had been thinking of this, as the noise of the party flowed around her: Roberta Flack's 'The First Time Ever I saw Your Face" was playing softly, the sensuous music tugging her thoughts. As she allowed her mind to delve in the past, she recalled the only time she had ever enjoyed a shuddering orgasm other than by masturbating, had followed an initiation ceremony into a university society; where she had been subjected to humiliation, and forced, although willingly, to degrade herself, and had then been blindfolded and placed over a bench, her arms held by two other women, and told she would be whipped by each member present: two lashes per person. And, what had filled her with shame, was the fact of being told that male students were invited to watch this final episode of her initiation. She remembered a pair of hands lifting her skirt, stretching her underwear over her trembling buttocks, recalling her embarrassment that she had worn only tiny, lace briefs and stockings, knowing her sex was displayed for all to see. The hands pulled her panties up into her crotch, forcing the narrow gusset into her slit, parting her lips, accentuating her openness. And then, the feeling the cold leather of the belt, as it was placed first on her arse, and then pulled down the crack of her cheeks, stroking her gaping sex, as she heard the horrifying words, "open your legs... wider... wider still!" A hand roughly pushed her thighs apart.. "Surrender your bottom and ask to be punished!" She remembered shaking her head, not being able to speak. "Ask for your punishment, or fail your initiation as being unworthy... ask to kiss the instrument of your pain, before it kisses your bottom!" Trembling, her body shaking, she answered her tormentors. "Please, please... whip me.. her voice failed her. The belt was placed on her mouth: she remembered the taste of the leather as she kissed it. And then the long, agonising seconds as the beginning of her initiation was delayed, heightening her fear, her limbs shaking uncontrollably. Then the sudden rush of air, the burning stab of pain as the belt landed on her buttocks, causing her muscles to clench... again and again it landed, so many times she lost count, the only relief the few seconds it took for another member to take her place. Yet, as Amelia felt the pain again in her mind, she also recalled the sensation, a delicious warmth pervading her belly, heat stirring in her vulva, limbs trembling as the beginning of pleasure replaced the pain of the repeated lashes. And she remembered the wetness soaking her panties, her clitoris throbbing to be touched, a sudden emptiness when the whipping ended. She shivered, and shook her head. She needed another drink. Encouraged with her drink, she allowed her mind to wander, hearing again the applause and the smiling faces welcoming her into the Soriety. But most of all she recalled the steel blue eyes of one of the male watchers, piercing her with his gaze. She shivered again, at the memory of him crossing the room toward her. "You were magnificent... beautiful!" He had said, "I could sense you beginning to enjoy the pain. " Amelia had wondered at the time how he could have known, for she had indeed begun to experience a pleasure like nothing she had ever known. He had asked her if she would like a drink, to which she had mumbled a reply, allowing him to take her hand and lead her from the room. No one seemed to notice them leave. As they walked from the building in silence, his arm linking hers, to another building nearby, where he had a room. Inside, he had turned her toward him, holding her face in his hands, staring at her for a few seconds, before bending his mouth to hers, his tongue searching for hers. Eagerly, she had returned his kiss, her tongue caressing his teeth, tasting his maleness. Her body moulded to his, her nipples hardening, as his hands traced the contour of her body, tensing as he cupped her buttocks, recalling her pain, as his fingers traced the welts, now replaced by a surging in her loins, as he slowly lifted her dress. He broke of the kiss, and without a word, turned her round and bent her over a desk, one hand exerting a gentle pressure on the small of her back, as he again lifted her skirt. His hands moved slowly up her legs, trembling as he reached the softness at the top of her stockings and pausing for a moment, before moving to gently touch her sex. She recalled the vividness of the moment, as he pulled the gusset of her panties aside, and slowly pushed his fingers inside her. Dropping to his knees, his hands pushed her thighs apart, stretching her, opening her lips with his fingers, and then, with a shocking suddenness taking her whole cunt inside his mouth. In seconds she lost control, her whole body shuddering, a scream rising in her throat, as the orgasm raced through her body, causing an uncontrollable writhing, every muscle spasming. Without waiting, he dropped his jeans and entered her. pushing into her wet, throbbing sex, still sensitive from her orgasm, opening her, thrusting deep inside, his orgasm building as quickly as hers had done, fingers digging into her buttocks as he tensed inside her, jerking as he came. Amelia felt a delicious tingling on the walls of her vagina as his cock twitched, his balls hard against her swollen lips, pulsing as his semen pumped into her cunt. With a groan, he fell across her back, her muscles clamping his still hard cock inside her. Amelia was startled to hear her name. She turned and saw her friend Susannah beside her. They had been friends since school, and had often been summoned to punishment, standing side by side, waiting... bolstering each others courage, although she had seen little of her since Susannah's marriage to Clive five years ago. "Sorry to hear about you and Roger!" Said Susannah, "I had meant to ring," she shrugged, "but you know how it is!" "That's okay Susie, I think we were both relieved when we parted; we had both been pretending for far too long. But, what about you, with Clive being sent to Singapore to sort things out there, you will be on your own. " Susannah eyes sparkled, as she gave Amelia a knowing smile. "Well darling. a girl has her ways", and, she smiled smile again, "and there are perhaps things, you, Ummm... don't know, having shut yourself away for so long. Clive and I have... " she paused, and looked at Amelia, "an, er... interesting relationship. " Amelia was surprised. To cover her confusion, she moved to the bar for another drink, Susannah joining her. "Let's take them into the garden, this," she waved her hand toward the other guests, "is all rather boring!" Together they slipped outside, and walked down one of the many paths in the huge garden. The property was breathtakingly beautiful in the moonlight, the garden lit with subdued lighting, built on the heights of a cliff overlooking the Darling Range In the distance the lights of Perth danced under the gleam of the moon. Clive and Susannah had bought the house when he had been invited to join the board as a senior partner. It was the house Susannah had always dreamed that she would one day own, mistress of all she surveyed. They seated themselves on a bench beside a pond. The night was still, the perfume of flowers intoxicating on the air. In the distance an owl hooted, as a small splash disturbed the surface of the water, perhaps a frog hunting its prey. The ripples spread over the water, as Amelia idly traced a finger in the water. "Susie, what did you mean when you said you and Clive have... " her voice trailed away. Susannah gave her a quizzical look. Abruptly, she made up her mind. "You remember the Mother Superior's study, Amelia?" She paused, Amelia nodded, a sudden shiver causing her to clasp her arms around herself. "You enjoyed that, didn't you?" Susannah did not wait for an answer. "I always knew you did, I felt it when we used to hug ourselves afterwards; you were always different to the other girls: like me, it gave you a thrill, The delicious feeling of fear... " Susannah, stopped, and took Amelia's hands, and the sensation of... but the, we didn't know what it was... " she paused again, giving Amelia a long, hard look. "But, I think you know the feeling now, and yet, you are still unsure, unaware of your feelings, but... " Susannah looked into her eyes.. unsatisfied?" Amelia looked at Susannah, before averting her eyes, glancing around the garden, brighter now, as the moon climbed higher in the sky, trying to gather her thoughts, and, surprised at her emotions. How could Susannah know, how could she understand the yearning deep inside herself, her need to be punished, her strange desire for pleasure, when she did not really understand it herself. Susannah stood up, taking Amelia's hand. "Come with me, I have something to show you. " Meekly, Amelia allowed her friend to take her back inside the house, but this time by a small door, beneath an arch to the side of the house. Susannah led her down a long corridor at the end of which was another door, beyond which a dimly lit flight of stone steps led down. Taking care in their high heels the two women descended, their steps echoing on the stone steps. Suddenly, they stood before a heavy, wooden door. Producing a key from her pocket Susannah open the door, and pressed a switch inside the door. The walls were lit by a soft, yellow glow, from lamps designed like medieval torches, giving it the appearance of a dungeon. Dominating the centre of the room and lit with a bright, modern light, like those found in an operating theatre, was a steel fixture resembling a bed, but which seemed to be split in the middle, with rings fixed to the sides. In a corner of the room was a wooden device, shaped like the back of a horse, on which was a saddle. Where the head would have been were brass rings, to which were attached leather cuffs, and below these, on each front leg of the contraption were stirrups, although much further forward, and higher, than in the case of a normal riding position. Other devices caught her eye: hooks were suspended from the wall, with several items hanging from them: paddles, various types of whips, and different handcuffs, and irons. Above, several bars were suspended from the ceiling, to which each were attached chains, to which were attach more cuffs. Yet what captured Amelia's attention was the huge wooden cross, cuffs at each corner, in the centre a padded bolster, around which was a wide leather belt. Amelia was transfixed: it was the image she had dreamed of, and was burned in her mind. She could not take her eyes of it, her heart was palpitating, her legs trembling. Turning to Susannah, she noticed her smile, as she walked slowly toward the cross, drawn to it, as though somehow it was part of her. Standing before it, she reached out her hand, and felt the rough grain of the timber, then moving her hands to the leather belt, touching the cold steel of the buckles. Turning again to Susannah, who had moved beside her, her eyes met those of her school friend, beseeching. No word was spoken,. They both knew, and understood, the inchoate, unspoken language. Amelia stepped closer to the cross, and stretched her arms along the upper beams, pressing her belly to the centre. Understanding, Susannah moved to fasten the cuffs on her wrists, then placed herself behind Amelia, placing her hand on her buttocks, with a light, reassuring pressure. "Are you sure?" She whispered in Amelia's ear, pulling her long black tresses to one side. "Is this what you want?" Amelia nodded, speechless, her body trembling, taut with apprehension, recalling the memories of their years in the convent. She pushed herself harder against the frame, grazing her already hardened nipples against the wood. Susanna's hand moved between her thighs, gently forcing her legs apart, stretching her ankles to the corners of the beams, bending to fix the securing cuffs. Having done this, she moved behind the cross, and placed the belt around Amelia's waist, buckling it tightly, causing Amelia to draw in her breath, her buttocks pushed out by the bolster, to be even more prominately displayed. The material of her skirt, was tightly stretched across her voluptuous flesh, the thin line of her panties and the straps of her suspender belt clearly visible beneath the dress. Having secured her willing victim to the cross, Susannah spoke once more to Amelia. "It's not too late to back out darling, if you are not absolutely sure. " Her voice was low and husky. As she whispered in her ear, she ran her hands beneath Amelia's dress, her fingers stroking the nylon sheathed legs, slowly moving up her taut thighs, and caressing the soft flesh as she reached the top of her stockings. Susannah paused, feeling Amelia tremble, anticipating her fingers moving beneath her panties, knowing she was already wet. She moaned as she felt her legs weaken, a flutter beginning in her belly, nipples hard with longing. Susannah understood, and lifting Amelia's dress, secured it with hooks attached to chains on the leather belt around her waist. She stepped back to look at her, naked from the waist, except for suspender belt, and brief lace underwear, heightening her vulnerability. "God Amelia, you are so incredibly beautiful!" As she spoke, she slipped her fingers beneath her panties, gently parting her lips, and searching for her clitoris. Amelia moaned, straining to push herself on to Susanna's hand, but restrained by her bonds. As Susannah removed her fingers, Amelia felt the wetness seeping down her thighs, her whole body trembling. Susannah went to a cabinet beside the cross, and taking from a drawer a pair of scissors, moved back to Amelia. She lay the cold metal against Amelia's inner thigh, feeling her flinch, before cutting the lace at her waist, the ruined scrap of lace falling to the floor. Her own nipples hard with desire, Susannah moved again to the cabinet, selecting a bamboo cane, and moved to stand before Amelia, showing her the instrument of her punishment. Amelia's eyes widened, but, making no sound, she nodded, her hair falling around her face. Susannah stepped back, and gazed at Amelia's naked flesh, her buttocks tensed with anticipation. Raising the cane, Susannah bought it whistling through the air, to get the feel of it, and gauge the distance. As she did so, Amelia tightened her thighs, expecting it to bite her flesh. Susannah laughed lightly. "No, Amelia darling, remember the study... you have to be in touch with your fear, feel it first in your mind. " As she said this, laid the cane against her taut flesh, and slowly draing it between her open vulva, pressing it against the moist, yielding flesh. A tremor ran through Amelia s body. Her buttocks tightened with the fear.... anticipating.... Suddenly, without warning, Susannah raised the cane and landed the first stroke on Amelia's quivering buttocks. Her whole body tensed, rigid as the pain seared her flesh, her teeth clenched to fight back tears. Amelia moaned, the pain etched in her mind. Once more the bamboo whistled through the air, cutting her in the centre of her buttocks, forcing a low moan from her throat. Three times more the cane lashed her bottom, but now the pain dulled, her vulva trembling, as pleasure replaced the burning of her flesh. Susannah threw the cane aside, and kneeling before Amelia's wide spread thighs, pushed her tongue into her gaping sex. , seeking the nub of her clitoris. Amelia became rigid, every muscle tensed, as Susannah's tongue found her willing flesh, the first quiver of her orgasm pulsing through her body, waves of pleasure centring in her vulva, reaching every part of her sensitised skin. Again and again she shuddered, as her climax flooded her senses, her screams of pleasure rending the air. As the waves of pleasure receded, she slumped against the frame, nerve ends tingling with the delicious aftershocks, her thighs twitching involuntarily. Susannah got to her feet, and moved beside her, carefully pulling the hair back from her face, and gently kissing her. As her bonds were removed, tears streamed down Amelia's face, tears of pleasure, and understanding. All those years of unconscious searching, but now she knew. Tomorrow would be different. She knew now she was a woman.