SusanStrict
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"The Taking of Sarah Macdonnel" by John Savage was a bestseller in paperback published in two parts in 2000/2001.
It has now been re-compiled from the original unexpurgated manuscripts and published as an ebook. Here's an extract from it:
Securing her was easy. First she was pushed up until the crosspiece was pressing against the front of her hips, just level with her furry patch. Then her feet were spread and tied to the two vertical posts, forcing her to lean against the rail to steady herself. Trang unlocked the handcuffs on her wrists and pulled her arms around in front of her. He tied the wrists together, palms facing each other, and then passed the cinch rope through that ring set in the ground.
As he pulled on the rope, and Sarah was forced to lean further and further forward and down, she began to have a bad feeling about her future. The position she was being tied into bent her over the bar, forced her bottom to stick right up and, with her legs spread wide, opened her sex for any cruelty her Master might wish to impose. Visions of him - and probably other men - using her sex from behind flashed through her mind and made her shiver.
The rope was tied off at the ring, leaving Sarah bent over and quite solidly held in place. Her head was pulled down to the level of her cunt. Looking back, she could see through her legs at the man standing there and grinning at her. She was feeling rather helpless as she thought of all the things they could do to her in this position.
“You're going to be punished!” Greg announced grandly when Trang was finished. He went on in a mock serious tone, “I'm not sure what for, but punished you will be. And I've told my men they can come and help with your punishment.” Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of dozens of men using her sexually! “Trang, why don't you show our slavegirl what her punishment is to be?”
Trang grunted, and Sarah closed her eyes. If he was going to ravish her with what would undoubtedly be a prong far larger than any woman should have to take, she did not want to see it coming.
She did not see it coming, but she certainly felt it. SMACK! The sound startled her, as did the sudden pain in her left bottom cheek. Her eyes flew open and she saw - upside down, of course - Trang grinning like an idiot with a paddle in his hand. It was one of those round paddles used in table tennis, a flat piece of thin wood covered on both sides with rubber bumps.
“I believe you Americans call the game ‘ping-pong’, although we call it table tennis, but the paddle is just the right size for warming up a woman's bottom, no? Give her a few more, Trang.”
Each stroke hurt, no question about that but it was not nearly so bad as the whipping her bottom had endured. She grunted and moaned and squealed as a series of blows landed alternately on her bare cheeks. She quickly found that she could not avoid the blows because of the way she was tied, and that her bottom was, indeed, warming up.
When Trang stopped, there were tears falling to the grass. Sarah hoped that was the end of her punishment, but then remembered Greg's statement that his men were to help. She moaned loudly.
“Getting the idea, are we?” asked Greg, cheerfully. “Each man will give you no more than a couple dozen strokes with a paddle, but there are soooo many men... And I've told them they can come back for seconds.” He walked up to her bottom to examine its blushing surface. His fingers were gentle on her smooth skin, but his words were not. “I've never done this before to a girl, but I'll bet that a few hundred swats from these paddles will become a torture. Don't you think so?”
Sarah did not answer.
Greg patted her on the bottom and began to walk away, but before he did, he pointed out to Trang that she had been pulling hard on the ropes and were was a little slack in the one holding her hands out in front of her. Trang unknotted the rope and pulled it until Sarah thought her arms were going to come out of their sockets. She could see the white rope digging deeply into her wrists in front of her.
Then both men were gone, leaving the naked woman to await her punishment. Sarah struggled for a few minutes, then quit. All she was doing was hurting her wrists.
She did not have long to wait. A glimpse of male legs between her own told her that the first of the punishers had arrived. There were comments in the language she did not understand, undoubtedly crude comments and suggestions. She was very much aware of how accessible her sex was. Her little slit was probably peeking out for the men to look at, and if they wanted to do more than just look, any man could just walk up behind her and shove his prick into her vagina. It felt to her as if the spread of her legs and the bent-over position was holding that orifice wide as an open invitation to these men. She could only pray that Greg had given orders for them not to use her sexually, and that they would obey them. After all, being paddled was bad enough!
The first two lost no time in picking up paddles from the pile on the ground. Suddenly Sarah was clenching her teeth in an effort to not cry out as the surprisingly intense pain burst into being in both her cheeks. They must be putting all their strength into those paddles! she thought to herself.
The two men were, indeed, putting the strength of their male arms into the task of turning Sarah's bottom red. With each impact of a paddle the flesh of her bottom shook in a most delightful manner, something that pleased the men greatly.
They each delivered their dozen strokes and reluctantly stepped back. More men were coming, so the first two had to give way, but they really did not want to. The combination of pain and spread female sex was stimulating them.
The next group of men took turns. That way it lasted longer and each man could watch as the other men's paddles did their dirty work. Sarah held back as long as she could, but each stroke, each sharp impact against her soft flesh hurt more than the last one. Finally, after one really hard blow, she emitted a long, drawn out cry of, “Nooooooooo! Stop it!”
It gained her only laughs and a renewed assault upon her rear.
It felt as if her bottom were actually on fire. As abuse was heaped upon abuse, the poor skin became more and more sensitive, and hurt worse and worse. Forgetting her resolve to remain quiet, Sarah gave out with moans, whines and sharp little cries, all very fine expressions of the suffering her poor little ass was going through. She also fought the ropes, but in an emotional way, fingers fluttering, body straining to straighten up, and bottom wiggling in a manner that simply excited the men more.
As the punishment continued, Sarah realized that Greg's statement about hundreds of strokes against her bottom was not an exaggeration. She did not count, but was sure that the total blows were at least a hundred and the count was climbing.
When the soreness and burning feeling became too much, she pleaded with the men to go easy on her. But either they did not understand her words, or more likely they did not care, for the barrage of pain continued unabated. When crying, pleas, fighting the ropes, and sincere screams did nothing to halt the onslaught, Sarah even considered offering her sex to the men in place of punishing her. Surely any man would rather screw a woman than paddle her bottom! And it could not hurt as much as this was hurting her, she told herself.
The words of submission did not come. There was pride left in the captive woman, and she did not want to offer her body for strange men to use. They might take it and, like their boss, screw her. So she clenched her teeth and resolved that she would not offer it to them, not even to ease the pain.
The wild thought occurred to her that human flesh was tough but could only take so much punishment. If they continued to pound upon her cheeks, might not the skin be ripped? Or rubbed off by those rubber paddles?
The paddling of Sarah's ass continued until the two hundred Greg had mentioned was only a down payment on a much larger debt. Her tears flowed down her nose to disappear into the blades of grass. Yet, oddly enough, she did find some solace from the pain. Without conscious decision, her thoughts turned to the screwing she had suffered at the hands (and penis) of Greg. She remembered vividly how helpless she had felt as he worked his will with her body. She remembered the wonderful feeling as his shaft slid into her sheath until it was buried deeply, most satisfyingly deeply. The memories of that forced sex came to her during this trial, and she found herself growing hot between the legs as well as all over her bottom.
It was stupid, it was illogical, but it was also wonderful in the way it took her mind off the helplessness of her condition and the pain. Somehow the pounding of paddles against her bare flesh transformed into Greg's hard body pounding against her hips and deep inside her. Unaware that she was doing it, Sarah began clenching her thighs and the muscles of her vagina. The pain and the pleasure intertwined until she could not tell where one began and the other left off. Heat and lust and desire blended into a wave of feelings that engulfed the beautiful young woman, consuming her mind and body.
Sarah was not aware that the paddling had stopped. Nor was she aware of Greg standing there, surveying the damage. All of her bottom, from the top of her crack down to the tops of her thighs, was a bright red, and seemed to be swollen. It was a powerful invitation to her Master as he stood there looking down at his slavegirl, at the delightfully full female body he owned and could use as he wished. Her sex seemed to pulsate with life, inviting him to enter within. He could smell the strong scent of a woman in heat, and knew that if he were to insert a finger into her, it would come out wet.
“Trang,” Greg said after a minute's quiet observation, “does it seem to you that she is clenching her thighs? And maybe thrusting her hips against the wood? Could it be that she's masturbating herself?”
Trang only grinned.
“Indeed,” mused Greg. “And what she all we do about it? What to do?”
The answer was obvious. A slavegirl does not pleasure herself without permission, even if it was from a severe paddling her Master ordered. A stop must be put to it before she reached that magic level called an orgasm. Greg picked up a small whip that had been resting against the post. Without warning, his arm lifted behind him, then swung forward to land a viciously painful blow across her ass.
Sarah screamed at the unexpected pain. It had cut into her warm dream world just as she was very close to obtaining the pleasure that would ease the pain. And it had cut in most viciously, far worse than any of the paddle blows, and made so because the skin was swollen and ultra-sensitive. Her body jerked in its bonds and her head lifted to howl out a cry of pain.
Quickly, he cut twice more across her bottom with wicked blows that swished through the air. Sarah's mouth was open but no scream came out. Perhaps the pain was so intense that the scream froze in her throat. Or maybe it was something else. A moment later she thrust her hips hard against the bar, her body went rigid all over, and a loud, animal moan came from her. Then her head was shaking wildly back and forth.
The orgasm lasted easily a full minute as the two men stood watching in awe.
“Oops, too late,” Greg muttered.
A woman in full orgasm is an inspiring sight. The intensity of her emotion, the way that feeling takes over her whole body, is a constant source of amazement to most men and a most effective stimulant. Greg zipped down his fly, released his rigid rod, and rammed it hard into her sheath. She cried out as he did, and was immediately rewarded with another orgasm that set her long hair to flying from side to side with each shake of her head. Greg pumped in a fiendish hurry and was soon adding his grunts to her moans.
Sarah's ass was sore enough to make simply sitting down highly undesirable for several days.
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http://www.strictsusan.com
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"The Taking of Sarah Macdonnel" - 
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