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Pain has many uses, it can be used as punishment or for pleasure, depending on how it is applied, but for a slave, one cannot exist without the other. To the untrained mind, this may seem contradictory on the surface.

Physical or extended mental rebellion is a serious matter and a master must take action. It really does not matter if a slave girl has willing agreed to her condition or has been force to do so.

For example:

The sun shines on an erotic procession. A man walks slowly along a curved path of the estate holding one end of a rope in his hand. The rope curves down then up bisecting two lovely breasts to encircle the neck of the young woman. She was taken against her will several weeks ago and last evening had attacked the man and attempted an escape.

She is naked, her hands chained by the wrists behind her back by silvery bracelets. A black leather strap around her elbow further restricts her arm movement. Silver leg irons matching the bracelets link her ankles and allow only small steps.

After her rebellion attempt she has just spent a miserable night in an escape proof cage in a room intentionally made to be as bleak as possible.

She should be glad to be able to walk outside in the open sunshine, but she is not. Taunting her with each step taken is the threat of pain. The sound of the lock of her cage last night rings in her head along with his departing words.

“You’ve just gotten another black mark against you. You really should not build up these black marks. One of these days you are going to wish you’d been a good girl.”

Because she has no choice the only thing she is free to release is of all her emotions, which can run wild.

Just as when ropes tighten around a woman’s body, as a lash strikes her flesh, the bonds inside a woman’s mind loosen allowing her to focus on the inner experience, to take the pretty woman more deeply into slavery, to test the absolute limits of her subservience.

When a clearing in the woods is reached the rope circling her neck is tied to a tree.

Releasing her elbow strap, but before her bracelets are unlocked each one is slid up on her forearms and a wide, soft leather bracelet is attached to her wrist below the bracelet.

White cotton rope runs from each bracelet to a strong branch of the tree, one on each side of her head. She can only sigh in desperate resignation as her wrists rise until she stands on her toes, arms widespread facing the warm sun flickering through the tree leaves basking her nude body.

Miserably she watches as the rope is lifted from her neck and the leg irons are removed knowing that her bondage will be replaced in the reverse manner.

Without warning his arm sweeps back and then forward. A swishing sound for a fraction of a second, then a snapping sound against female flesh kissing her bottom with fire.

Dear reader, if you have been disciplined by a Master, parent or Mistress, you will know with bitter memories what I speak off when I say that she feels her skull exploding as the pain surges into her consciousness.

And then comes the second stroke. The horror of the first blow is consigned to the void when this next one strikes home and she screams afresh, head shaking, legs flailing, fingers twitching, her voice pleading instinctively for mercy.

Slowly, methodically, carefully the man marks the body of this beautiful woman. Each stroke designed to bring pain and remind her of her transgression. The man revels at the sight of naked girl flesh trembling before him.

Nor is her front spared. Cries and moans echo in the trees giving testimony to the agony of this hanging nude with extra loud screams when a new unexpected area is struck.

Hardly aware of the cessation of her punishment, minutes pass until moaning screams at the fire and agony of the strikes slowly turn to sobs. Tears run down her face and into her hair. A light breeze caresses her nudity.

She once again struggles to escape, but cannot free herself from the strain of her position or the pain. This realization may take more time for a slave’s mind to comprehend.

In the meantime how pleasurable it is to own a naked woman, still an untrained slave, shuddering with fear.

The outline of her body hanging limply by her wrists is a beautiful sight. Long hair rests lazily on her shoulders and a few strands brush her naked breasts.

It is truly delicious to feel the satiny soft flesh, so temptingly rounded, firm and resilient as she now yields submissively to his grasp as he prepares her for the walk back to his house.

Before the leg irons are replace he pushes her onto her arms locked behind her back in the grass and with his legs he spreads her ankles wide.

The male tool is rigid and ready for action. He is in quickly and easily buried deep in the slave girl. She moans loudly as he invades her.

He fucks her and wipes the tears from her face with slow easy strokes so unlike the harsh swift strokes minutes before.

Possibly because her tortured body is so tender, but flesh is flesh and a girl’s flesh is prone to betray. Mixed with pleasurable feelings are sharp pings of pain and dull aches as his hands and body shoves against where she has been punished.

Soon sending mixed messages into her brain she cries in the throws of an organism as she wraps her legs around his hips to increase his pumping. Colorful skyrockets explode in her head.

His climax finishes shortly after hers and he shifts around to present his body and wet tool to her face. She is in no position to care and soon he is clean all over.

She must understand that the onus is on her to show true submissive remorse for her transgression the day before.

The elbow strap will be much tighter as the same rope leads her home with the silver bracelets on her limbs hobbling her steps.