It was her again.

Mistress Madonna.

He was immovably bound, up to his arse in filthy water and yet he still sported an erection. And why? Because she stood legs astride with her naked, bushy mons only inches from his salivating mouth. Added to that, his nose was working overtime, the musky aroma of her sex being sniffed into his nostrils with all the vigour he could muster.

Whack! The cane fell across his shoulders, biting and painful.

"Stop that, you dirty little beast."

Julian bit his lip, flinching with the hurt. But he did not stop sniffing. So far, the pleasure being generated by the intimate aromas of her sex as they wafted up his nose was much greater than the pain occasioned by the cane. She widened her stance, ensuring that he got a full view of her long, wavy and slightly parted labia. His prick jerked in response, just as she knew it would. And the cane slashed down once again, just as he knew it would. It was a little game they played: Mistress Madonna provoked him into misbehaving, he responded and she punished him. She controlled him like a puppet and he danced on the end of her string... more than happy to be her undeserving slave.

The end of the cane prodded his throat, prompting his Adam's Apple to bob up and down as he swallowed nervously. She fixed her eyes on his straining cock poking up through the murky water. The cane made little rippling circles as she stirred its tip around his bell-end and Julian tried to look down to see exactly what she was doing. He always got a little nervous when she started to wave the cane in the vicinity of his dick, because more often than not it was the precursor of some exceedingly painful savaging of his private parts. But he could not look anywhere except upwards at the beaver's nest that was now within licking proximity of his mouth, the tight chain binding his neck to his wrists saw to that. He could not help himself. His tongue darted from his mouth, but she was too fast for him, her honeypot moved away from his face and the cane slashed agonisingly on to his twitching purple glans.

"Naughty, naughty Julian. What has Mistress Madonna told you?"

It really did not matter what she had told him, the searing pain in his cock was blanking out any other consideration.

The cane fell once more.

"OOWhoo!"

Julian tried. He really did. But it was impossible for him to formulate any response whatsoever. His poor, abused cock reeled in shock as he tried to soothe the agony by dipping its whole length down into the water. Cutting bites of the cane rained down on his shoulders and his back.

"You horrid, nasty boy. Get your dick out of that dirty water this instant."

"But you hurt it."

Smack!

"Don't answer back."

"But..."

One word was as far as he got. A flurry of vicious strikes from the cane lacerated his arms and abdomen. He was beginning to glow, as he always did after she had got to work on him. Glow on the inside as well as out.

Nothing could rival the thrill of this treatment. He loved her to thrash him and stripe his flesh, and beat him into submission. Often long after she had departed, he would stand naked, admiring his abused body. Every slash of the cane or whip that had bruised, cut or marked him being recalled as he masturbated frantically. Mistress Madonna was right... he was a dirty little pervert. And a guaranteed source of income.

"If you don't stop being naughty and be a good little baby, Mistress Madonna will have to cancel your birthday treat."

"Oh, please don't... What is it anyway?"

That was for her to know and for him to find out, she told him. And he would not find out until he started behaving himself and doing what she ordered.

"I'll do it. Anything, you know I will."

She did. She was just testing him.

"Good. So, get to work. Clean up the cellar."

"What!?"

"You heard, you little shit. Clean up the cellar."

"But I can't. The pipes have burst. It's full of filthy water."

Julian was right of course, but she was not going to stand for her insolent charge answering back.

"Don't be silly, of course you can."

And with that, she pressed one stilettoed heel into his back and tipped him head first into the water. With his hands cuffed behind his back he was unable to push himself up, thrashing around snorting and choking until he managed to turn on to his side, and supported on his shoulder he was able to lift his head clear of the water.

"You fucking rotten tart, you could have drowned me."

"Forgotten ourselves again, haven't we?" She laid the cane along the side of his cheek to emphasise the point. "Now, say sorry to Mistress Madonna."

Julian said nothing. Certainly not that he was sorry. Or if he did it was not quick enough.

Again the stilettoed foot propelled him face down into the dirty water. And once more he splashed around like a drowning cat until he was able to prop himself back on to his shoulder. He screamed and ranted, swore and abused her until his fevered tirade slowed and his words became more faltering. Sanity returned. He had really blotted his copybook now. Mistress Madonna had not said a word, just standing over him throughout his verbal onslaught with the sternest, most disapproving look on her face. He was in for serious trouble now. That was for certain. Probably a prolonged caning. Or a whipping. And it could not come soon enough.

There was an ominous silence. Julian lay in the rippling tide looking up straight at his Mistress' vagina. She widened her legs and slipping a hand over her mons, dipped her fingers into the pink lips of her labia. She spread her fingers, pulling the fronds apart so that he could see a definite hole. Julian's cock juddered and twitched as his erection doubled in intensity, tiny eddies rippling away from his glans as it beat the water like a miniature paddle.

"You pathetic little insect. You've really done it now, haven't you?"

She bent her knees, squatting more closely to Julian's face, her finger-widened hole staring him straight in the eye. Sperm began to leak from his meatus, floating away on the water.

"Mistress Madonna had a really, really special treat for Julian's birthday. But he's not going to get it now is he? He's been too naughty."

"Please, give it me. I will be good, really I will."

"No. It's too late for that. But Mistress Madonna will tell you what it was... She was going to let you fuck her."