12 lashes for a submissive client

The room was lit only by the dim red light of the lamp in the corner. The air smelled of leather, wax, and pent-up arousal.
He was kneeling on the cold floor, completely naked, his hands bound behind his back with soft leather cuffs. His head bowed, his breathing already labored. I stood in front of him, dressed in a black latex bodysuit that showed off every curve of my body, with thigh-high boots and the long, thin, black leather whip swinging gently in my right hand.
“You’ve been a very naughty boy today,” I said in a calm but firm voice. “You were late for the session. You spoke without permission. And, worst of all… you touched yourself without my permission.”
He trembled slightly, but he didn’t look up. He knew the rules.
“For each mistake – one blow. Total… twelve. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mistress,” he whispered in a trembling voice.
“Count them out loud. And thank me after each one.”
I took a side step and raised the whip. The air hissed briefly before the first blow landed squarely on his raised bottom—a dry, sharp sound.
“One… Thank you, Mistress,” he groaned.
The second came right after, a little lower, leaving a fine red trail.
“Two… Thank you, Mistress.”
The third blow was harder. He gasped and his body arched forward.
“Three… ah… Thank you, Mistress.”
I continued calmly, rhythmically. With each blow, the whip left a fresh red mark on his white skin. By the fifth, his breathing had already become labored, his moans deeper. By the seventh, his legs were visibly shaking.
“Seven… Thank you… Mistress…”
On the eighth stroke, I hit lower, closer to his thighs. He let out a longer moan, almost a sigh.
“Eight… Thank you, Mistress.”
I paused for a second, lightly stroking the red marks with my palm, feeling his skin burn. Then I hit again, this time with more force. The whip hissed loudly.
“Nine!” he shouted, his voice breaking. “Thank you, Mistress!”
By the tenth, tears had begun to stream down his cheeks, but his cock was rock hard, erect and throbbing, a clear drop of pre-cum hanging from the tip.
“Ten… Thank you… Lady…”
The eleventh was the hardest yet. He let out a short yelp and arched violently.
“Eleven! Thank you, Lady!”
I stepped back, raised the whip high, and waited a few long seconds, letting him feel the anticipation. Then I struck with all my precision and force—the last, the hardest.
“TWELVE!” he screamed, his body shaking. “Thank you… Thank you, Lady!”
I put the whip aside and moved closer. I caught his sweat-drenched hair with one hand and lifted his head, forcing him to look me in the eyes. His face was red, his eyes wet, but full of complete submission and pure desire.
“Good boy,” I whispered, running my thumb over his trembling lips. “Now look how wet you are.”
With my other hand I gently touched his cock. It was hot, hard, and throbbing desperately. One light touch made him moan pathetically.
“Do you want me to let you come?” I asked with a cruel smile.
“Yes, Mistress… please…”
“Then I’ll make you pray for it.”
He swallowed hard, his ass still burning from the 12 lashes, and whispered in a broken voice:
“Please, Mistress… let me come… I’m yours.”