She then led me into another room that she had already prepared in anticipation of her first punishment. The room was half empty and had an iron pole that was anchored to the floor and a beam in the ceiling. The ropes attached to the pole made it clear that she wanted to be tied to it. As she stepped out of her summer dress she pointed to the whip on the coffee table: "Please feel free to use the whip as judiciously as necessary."
I tied her wrists to the pole so that she could take a couple of steps backwards. I told her that it will always be on her bare bottom and pulled down her panties. Katsumi nodded when I asked her to present herself properly and she arched her bottom up and out. She didn't mind me taking a picture for my private collection. For a Japanese woman she had a rather magnificent backside, fully rounded and firm. Taking the picture I realized that this was the first and last time I saw her flawless bottom this velvet smooth. It would be covered with whip marks and puffy welts by the time I was done that day. And there wouldn't be enough time between lessons for those marks and welts to fade because I was going to administer some sort of flogging, whipping or caning to her pretty ass on every visit.
Picking up the heavy horsewhip I realized why Katsumi had left so much free space in the room. I could take a full swing. The whip itself would have made a stern stable master proud: the fine leather was woven tightly and ended in a slick lash with a double fall. Rather than announcing or even deciding on the number of lashes I would judge my work by the color and the stripes I was about to print on her Japanese ass. I took a firm stand behind her and raised my arm for the first lash.
A tape titled "Katsumi Okamoto" had a recording of the lesson taught that afternoon.
Mateo Silva listened to the tape and looked at the Japanese woman's picture. There was no need to feel sorry for her since the whipping was done for her pleasure. And it sounded like she was moaning with lust between the lashes. But after about five minutes the recording stopped. Mateo read on in the notebook:
I had given her about fifty lashes that striped her bottom nicely, but Katsumi became more and more enraged with lust. It was obvious that I had to relief her from her lust before I could truly punish her. I put the whip back on the table and ran the palm of my hand over her butt cheeks. Her ass was glowing quite warm and Katsumi welcomed my caresses. I palmed her wet pussy lips between her legs and then slowly started to finger her. She was so greased and wide open that I could easily bury three fingers inside her. She moaned and gasped with pleasure, but still didn't come. I pulled my finger out of her pussy. Since it was so well greased from her own juices it easily slid into her ass. I fingered her ass for less than a minute when Katsumi screamed with a violent orgasm. Now her juices ran even more, dripping down inside her thighs and onto the hardwood floor.
Many people never realize how selfish young women like Katsumi can be. Their whole day is planned after their sexual desires. Now she expected to be untied, take a foam bath and finger herself to another orgasm, then get herself ready and put on some sexy lingerie for her husband, hoping to get fucked all evening long until exhaustion. I picked up the horsewhip determined to replace her screams of lust with screams of pain. Katsumi looked at me with wide open eyes. She assumed her sample punishment was finished. I stroked her hair and explained that punishment is about pain and that with her lust exhausted she was now going to get her first lesson.
This time I stepped into the lash and whipped with all my strength. An earsplitting, cracking smack rang of the walls that was followed by several seconds of silence. Katsumi writhed in pain, twisting her sweat covered body and gasping for air. Then she screamed, a shrill and desperate scream that turned into a howling whimper. Whereas the previous lashes had printed some red stripes on her butt cheeks, this lash left a prominent welt on her ass that puffed up in a matter of seconds. I waited, knowing that the pain was subsiding very slowly. After a minute I raised the whip again and lashed it as hard as I could right across the crowns of her tempting ass. She screamed desperately and learned the meaning of discipline that afternoon. I paused and stroked her hair, watching her tears rolling out of her eyes.
Katsumi started to beg in Japanese, and I reminded her to speak Spanish before another cracking smack exploded on her bottom. I thrashed her ass methodically for about half an hour. When I put the whip back on the coffee table, her sweet young bottom was criss-crossed with scarlet and plum colored welts that would take weeks to heal and fade. It was a good beginning of her lessons...
Mateo looked up from the notebook and at the picture. He wished there were another picture, one showing Katsumi Okamoto right after she got her attractive ass thrashed by the teacher. But he could imagine her sweat covered body glistening in the setting sunlight, in this suggestive pose that shows off the curves of her bottom, only now with a patchwork of angry welts from the whipping. In the case of Katsumi Okamoto he even hoped that she would get an additional two dozen strokes with a rattan cane on her ass, the very same evening. From her husband, as a punishment for her selfish private lessons.