It was my idea to acclimatise the man to my whip, before laying on some serious strokes.  He took the whip fairly well and I knew that it was time to increase the severity.  Mistress Vixen looked on and I knew that she was looking for me to prove myself.  I raised the whip high in the air, held it for a few moments, then let loose.  There was a loud whistle as it travelled through the air, then the inevitable “thwack!”  My slave jumped.  Mistress Vixen smiled and I was pleased.  I knew I was under the spotlight and didn’t want to show myself up as I prepared for the next stroke.  This time I picked my line and let loose a lash which ran diagonally across his arse.  I saw his muscles tighten as he dealt with the pain.  I had no sympathy for the slave.  He had put himself in a position of begging to serve a Mistress, and now he had what he wished for.  I looked down at his flesh and was pleased when I saw the welt which I had just administered.  I lashed him again and he wriggled his arse.  I could hear him growling under his breath as he endured the pain.  Unfortunately for him, I felt that I had to impress Mistress Vixen and decided that he must taste several more strokes of my whip.  I flexed my arm and laid on a dozen or so more strokes of the whip.  I could hear the slave whimpering and trying not to weep.  I must confess that I felt strangely proud of him for not breaking down.  Mistress Vixen continued to snap away and I felt that I had given a fair account of myself.  Despite the pain the slave was in, I had a feeling that he was enjoying himself rather too much.

Placing my hand between his legs, I felt his tight little balls and, as I explored further, I discovered that his cock was bulging and stiff.  I gripped his testicles and squeezed them until I could detect his cock softening.  After a few seconds I knew that my pressure was having the desired effect. I slapped him across the arse and very quickly his penis shrivelled up to the size of a small slug.  Mistress Vixen asked me to move around a bit.  My fur coat was placed on the ground and I lay on top of it, with my legs clamped around the slave’s neck. His face was squeezed into my pussy and he started to turn red.  I’m sure he was enjoying the view.  I gave his head a sharp slap, then clenched my fist and punched him.  He squealed like a weasel and I hit him again.  Before long, his eyes looked glazed and he passed out.  Presently I released my grip on his throat and he rolled over on the grass, desperately gasping for air.  I told him, “Clean my boots.  Lick them clean.” He recovered and crawled down to suck to my heels.  I lay idly while Mistress Vixen photographed me, and the slave attended to his duty.  Each time his tongue let up, I was ready with my whip to give him a slap across the face.  He licked away, enjoying his task, until I was satisfied that my boots were polished from top to tip.  Laying him out in the mud, I knelt on his chest and then sat on him with my full weight.  Looking down at him, puffing and panting, it occurred to me that he might be in need of refreshment. I told him, “Open you mouth.  Wide.  Wider.”