Disciplining Barbie

Mistress Katia has done this before. Barbie Pink crossed a line. Now she pays. The first strike cuts across her thighs, sharp enough to pull a whimper from her throat. The second lands higher, then another, quicker this time, until the leather kisses every inch of exposed skin. Sweat beads at Barbie's temples. She bites her lip to keep quiet, but the cuffs around her wrists pull tight with each flinch. Katia moves behind her and sets the crop aside, choosing the heavier flogger. Its falls kiss Barbie's back in one slow, stinging sweep, then another, painting a flush of heat from shoulder to ass. Barbie's breath comes ragged, and her hips start to roll against the padded bench though nothing touches her cunt. Katia notices. She grabs a handful of Barbie's hair, wrenches her head back, and slides two gloved fingers between the girl's folds. Wet. Katia makes a low sound of approval, pushes in deeper, curls just enough to make Barbie sob. The fingers withdraw. A strap slides between Barbie's thighs, buckled tight so every shift grinds the leather against her clit. Katia steps back, raises the single-tail, and lets the first true lash crack across the meat of Barbie's ass. Pink skin blooms red. Barbie jerks. Her pussy clenches around nothing, a clear thread sliding down her thigh. Again and again the whip sings, until the girl hangs limp in her bonds, thighs slick, breath sobbing. Katia sets the whip down, runs her palm over the hot welts, and presses the soaked leather strap tighter. Barbie's hips twitch helplessly. By evening she will know better than to disobey, but for now Katia plans to keep her there, bound, sore, dripping, until the lesson sinks in deep.