Thank youA brilliant sequel, Kathy, really well done!
Fantastic, well done, so erotic, it tickled my fancy and moreStep forward slave," my Master ordered. Slowly, walking on tiptoes, I approached the frame in front of me. my breath quickening, and started feeling the much wanted and very familiar tingling between my legs. A whiff of cold air passed through the room, and made my skin form goose bumps and my nipples hardening, pointing slightly upwards. my Master spoke:
"Slave, you are on video. Please state clearly what you have accepted - and agreed to - and desire should happen to happen to you."
I looked straight into the camera. started to speak, but my voice was hoarse. I licked my lips, and started once more:
"My name is Kathy. I have since long ago had a fantasy to be whipped like a slave girl. No mercy. No safe word. And whipped with a five-stranded wide, long straps as described in the books. Master has kindly allowed me to live out my fantasy. He will now whip me twenty five times with the specially crafted whip. He will apply force at his discretion. I cannot, and have no desire to stop him. I will endure my entire punishment in full. This is my fantasy, one I crave, one that Master has given me as a gift. This is not abuse, no matter what injuries I may suffer. I enter this of my free will, and place myself fully at the mercy of my Master, who has promised me to hold nothing back."
My breathing had quickened. l stepped forward and placed myself under the chain hanging from the ceiling. Master attached my hands to the chain above my head. A naked woman attached my ankles to duffs far out on the side. The sound of electro motors sounded, and soon I was stretched with legs wide, toes barely touching the ground. my wrists took the main weight of my body. my breath became faster and more strained. Despite the padded cuffs, i felt the pull on my wrists. The sweat cooled my body and made me shiver slightly.
Another shiver went through my body. Master was back, and pulled a thick, soft leather hood over my head, working my hair into a pony tail that he pulled through a vent in the back of her hood. . Slowly, Master started tightening the laces. Every inch of my face was soon hugged tightly by the hood.
The only openings were just below my nose, too small to give unrestricted breathing, but large enough to give me the air I needed to not pass out.
Master took his time lacing it up tightly once, then once more. It now held my head perfectly. I started sweating inside the hood. My skin was hyper sensitive. All sounds were now muffled. I could scream all I wanted, but almost nothing would be heard outside the hood.
Nothing happened for many minutes. I shifted around, trying to find a more comfortable position, failing entirely. My wrists were getting more painful by the minute.
Nothing happened, Then, without a warning, the five strands of the whip came out of nothing and hit her back hard. I jumped, bucked and threw myself against the ropes. I screamed in pain and terror, wanting nothing more than having the pain end. But outside the hood, nothing but a whimper could be heard.
The restricted breathing forced me to calm down. This had hurt beyond anything she had experienced. my back was on fire. And the fire was getting stronger.
The second lash hit , It stung worse than the first, mainly because it landed on top of the first. the third lash hit my back again. I screamed from the top of my lungs, bucked and twisted, trying to tear the solid frame apart.My body was dripping with sweat, Finally my erratic moves stopped. I slumped forwards, my back felt like it was on fire and the fire was increasing. .
The fourth lash fell across my tummy. The burning took my attention away from the hurting wrists. I tried to close my legs, because I feared where the next lash would fall. But three was no give, no way to bring my feet together, no mercy.
The fifth lash fell on the left side of my ribs. It was the worst so far. Sweat was running down my body, I tried to twist away from the pain. But the cuffs and the frame held me in place. .
I got a lash on the right side of my ribs, then number seven hit the outside of my right thigh.I braced for the next to hit my left thigh, but it never cams. Instead my right lower leg felt the whip. I almost danced in pain. I cursed and pulled and bucked, but could not free myself.
It felt like my right leg was on fire. But my left was fine. That made it worse. Asymmetric pain can drive one insane. the ninth lash hit my breasts. For a moment I could not breathe. What was I thinking? Twenty five fucking lashes, and I was going insane with pain before I had made it to ten? How could I survive sixteen more?
Number ten fell again across my breasts, but made better contact with my nipples. I screamed so it could be heard outside the hood. But nothing happened. I slumped down in my bindings, fully exhausted. Sobbing and pleading.
My butt went on fire with lash number eleven. Then number twelve was again across my back. Now I was fighting my restraints with all my strength.
Master stepped away and folded up the whip. He could see that I was at a breaking point. He had promised to complete the whipping. He would do so, but for now I needed some rest. As he stepped down from the frame, others came up and started feeling the red welts on my body. I jerked violently. The audience understood. I was in sensory overload.
I woke with a jerk. I had passed out. Sweat was in my eyes, stinging. Wrists and arms were hurting. Parts of my body were on fire, other parts felt numb. Had they completed the whippings? Had I passed out from the pain? I tried to remember. Then lash number thirteen came from behind and up from below her legs. All five strands made solid contact with my vagina, one strand landing on my clit.
This time the bondage frame creaked under the strain of me pulling at my restraints. Inside the hood, I screamed but now mixed with incoherent babbling. This was not possible. I wished I could just pass out. I mumbled all the safe words I could remember.
My body started tingling. I could see a black hole opening. my pain disappeared. My breath stabilized. I felt so alive. I had entered subspace.
The remaining lashes fell, but I took them with little reaction. Master increased the strength of the lashes. He knew I had eluded the pain by dropping into subspace. He was glad I had escaped. Number 25 hit on my clit and vagina again, but this time there was barely any reaction. He carefully folded the whip, put it to the side and motioned for the other spectators to move to the adjacent room.
Half an hour later, he was back. With the help of two other slaves, he freed me from the frame. I slumped down. They held me up, and carried me into another room with a huge bed.
When I woke up, my body was still burning. I staggered towards where I remembered that the bathroom was. My master understood and guided me in. . It was time to travel home.
At home laid down on my bed
I was a whipped slave that had no choice but to stay and suffer. With the pain washing through my body, I drifted back into subspace. I fell asleep.I had found my peace.
Thank youFantastic, well done, so erotic, it tickled my fancy and more
Congratulations on your text and a kiss on your buttocks to reduce your pain!"You've been behaving yourself, Kathy," said the guard, studying his chart. "No reports this week."
"Yes Sir."
"Must be a mistake. You're always on report for something. Last week it was three. You must have done something."
"No, Sir. I was... good"
"Anyway you will be punished" said the guard.
I worked hard the past seven days to avoid trouble. In this place, that was almost impossible, my reward was punishment. Unfair, but that was life here.
The guard says "Lets's begin."
The was a blur of movement. Oak thumped in hard across my butt cheeks. They flattened, crushed by the impact.
When the paddle retreated, it left behind an imprint, pink and hot. My cheeks bobbled and twitched. Fiery sting shot through me.
Another swing, the placement lower and hitting more on the right side. My cheek burned. I grunted, body jerking with the hit. .
A third and then a fourth. After five, the white expanse of buttocks bore a series of overlapping marks. Tears trickled down my face , I struggled to hold my hands at bay and keep my bottom obediently relaxed.
More spanks followed, the guard an expert at delivering maximum sting for minimal effort. He let the heavy wood do most of the work, at each solid whack my body rocked, my butt jiggling.
The standard ten was hardly considered punishment in this place . It was a beginning, not an end. .
The paddle continued to punish, I cried out , unable to hold my yelps and moans. I wiggled, and twisted my hips, careful to keep my feet planted and my hands clear of the line of fire, but moving as much as I dared simply because I could no longer stand still and endure such agony.
This brought a smile to the face of the guard, except his lips didn't move and his expression didn't change. It was an internal grin, a secret satisfaction that he enjoyed. He loved making the girls squirm. That was his goal in life.
Soon I was dancing. My limbs jerked, I twitched and wiggled, while behind, my buttocks steamed as the wood thumped and smacked into my soft flesh. The paddle struck with no more mercy. The guard was as grim and swung the paddle with righteous conviction.
I sob and stagger, pain flooding my rump and flowing through my torso.
The guard pressed ahead. They were near the 20 but he didn't care. he made the rules here .
An extra lick or two was all I needed. When the intensity was too great, I slipped, one foot rising off the pads as I cried with pain.
"A violation!" cried the guard . "That's five extra."
I sobbed, my head drooping. I wasn't prepared for the awful correction that came, the paddle striking low and actually lifting my body upward. My feet shifted as I struggled to hold my position.
"Another violation and another five penalty swats," said the guard. .
The paddle worked its magic, transforming pretty white cheeks into roasted red rump. l wept nonstop, my cries increasing with each whack.
As the count approached 30, severe even for this place, my struggles increased so much that sweat dripped from my brow .
The guard, concentrating hard now puts serious effort into the swings, eager to cause me to move and extend the spanking by a few more smacks.
At stroke 29, he succeeded, his lips twisting into a grin as he called out another five-lick penalty. I slump, though remained obediently in position.
The guard swung harder now, faster, the wood pressing aside the air and bursting upon the cherry-red buttocks with a vigor that nearly toppled me.I had to brace myself and work to thrust my sore butt out toward the paddle, welcoming the agony, in order to spare myself additional penalties.
This time I survived the onslaught. Though my butt burned, I managed to stay still and accept the searing swats.
The guard didn't mind. He put down the paddle, satisfied he'd imparted his message. l would remember this spanking for a while. A few weeks, perhaps a month, and then I'd need another reminder.
Inmates were bad girls and needed to be punished. It didn't matter if I behaved herself or not. That was just an excuse. I was here to be tortured, to be reformed, to suffer. I'd made my mistakes and this was my due. I was strong with a healthy body, and my sentence was only two years. It would be extended, of course, at least six months or maybe a year for some made-up offense like fighting . It would happen at the last minute, just a day before my release. That was the best way to crush my spirit. Let me think I'd almost escaped, then bring me back inside for another spanking.
I slowly dressed, wincing at every movement, tears still flowing.
"Next!" the guard cried, picking up the paddle and watching as another victim, made her way into the punishment room.
Thank youCongratulations on your text and a kiss on your buttocks to reduce your pain!
Brilliant, Kathy, you really capture the essence of sadistic punishment, applied by a cruel man to a submissive victim. He enjoys because he can inflict it, and you "enjoy" it because you have no choice."You've been behaving yourself, Kathy," said the guard, studying his chart. "No reports this week."
"Yes Sir."
"Must be a mistake. You're always on report for something. Last week it was three. You must have done something."
"No, Sir. I was... good"
"Anyway you will be punished" said the guard.
I worked hard the past seven days to avoid trouble. In this place, that was almost impossible, my reward was punishment. Unfair, but that was life here.
The guard says "Lets's begin."
The was a blur of movement. Oak thumped in hard across my butt cheeks. They flattened, crushed by the impact.
When the paddle retreated, it left behind an imprint, pink and hot. My cheeks bobbled and twitched. Fiery sting shot through me.
Another swing, the placement lower and hitting more on the right side. My cheek burned. I grunted, body jerking with the hit. .
A third and then a fourth. After five, the white expanse of buttocks bore a series of overlapping marks. Tears trickled down my face , I struggled to hold my hands at bay and keep my bottom obediently relaxed.
More spanks followed, the guard an expert at delivering maximum sting for minimal effort. He let the heavy wood do most of the work, at each solid whack my body rocked, my butt jiggling.
The standard ten was hardly considered punishment in this place . It was a beginning, not an end. .
The paddle continued to punish, I cried out , unable to hold my yelps and moans. I wiggled, and twisted my hips, careful to keep my feet planted and my hands clear of the line of fire, but moving as much as I dared simply because I could no longer stand still and endure such agony.
This brought a smile to the face of the guard, except his lips didn't move and his expression didn't change. It was an internal grin, a secret satisfaction that he enjoyed. He loved making the girls squirm. That was his goal in life.
Soon I was dancing. My limbs jerked, I twitched and wiggled, while behind, my buttocks steamed as the wood thumped and smacked into my soft flesh. The paddle struck with no more mercy. The guard was as grim and swung the paddle with righteous conviction.
I sob and stagger, pain flooding my rump and flowing through my torso.
The guard pressed ahead. They were near the 20 but he didn't care. he made the rules here .
An extra lick or two was all I needed. When the intensity was too great, I slipped, one foot rising off the pads as I cried with pain.
"A violation!" cried the guard . "That's five extra."
I sobbed, my head drooping. I wasn't prepared for the awful correction that came, the paddle striking low and actually lifting my body upward. My feet shifted as I struggled to hold my position.
"Another violation and another five penalty swats," said the guard. .
The paddle worked its magic, transforming pretty white cheeks into roasted red rump. l wept nonstop, my cries increasing with each whack.
As the count approached 30, severe even for this place, my struggles increased so much that sweat dripped from my brow .
The guard, concentrating hard now puts serious effort into the swings, eager to cause me to move and extend the spanking by a few more smacks.
At stroke 29, he succeeded, his lips twisting into a grin as he called out another five-lick penalty. I slump, though remained obediently in position.
The guard swung harder now, faster, the wood pressing aside the air and bursting upon the cherry-red buttocks with a vigor that nearly toppled me.I had to brace myself and work to thrust my sore butt out toward the paddle, welcoming the agony, in order to spare myself additional penalties.
This time I survived the onslaught. Though my butt burned, I managed to stay still and accept the searing swats.
The guard didn't mind. He put down the paddle, satisfied he'd imparted his message. l would remember this spanking for a while. A few weeks, perhaps a month, and then I'd need another reminder.
Inmates were bad girls and needed to be punished. It didn't matter if I behaved herself or not. That was just an excuse. I was here to be tortured, to be reformed, to suffer. I'd made my mistakes and this was my due. I was strong with a healthy body, and my sentence was only two years. It would be extended, of course, at least six months or maybe a year for some made-up offense like fighting . It would happen at the last minute, just a day before my release. That was the best way to crush my spirit. Let me think I'd almost escaped, then bring me back inside for another spanking.
I slowly dressed, wincing at every movement, tears still flowing.
"Next!" the guard cried, picking up the paddle and watching as another victim, made her way into the punishment room.
Thank youBrilliant, Kathy, you really capture the essence of sadistic punishment, applied by a cruel man to a submissive victim. He enjoys because he can inflict it, and you "enjoy" it because you have no choice.
Thank you Kathy, I love your fantasy. I also share a desire to be whipped. Unsure if you want any of my stories here? Thank youAs the taxi drives away I look around, feeling alone. I am finally here. When I leave I shall be transformed. That thought pleases me, but makes me nervous. I know I have been indulgent of late and I deserve this, but the treatment is severe and difficult to endure.
The attendants inside check me in and soon I am ready to begin. I am led to my chamber where my clothes are removed. Wearing a short robe I am led to the showers where two female attendants wash me, one directing the spray while the other coats my skin with lather.
After the impersonal shower I am toweled off and led to the medical chamber where I am weighed, measured, and examined inside and out. It is all done very routinely, impersonally, and I enjoy the feeling.
My first appointment is with Mark. I remember him well. A large muscular man who used to be a professional body builder. Now he is the whipping master at the club. I go to him with apprehension. He is pleased to see me.
We begin with a light whipping, me strapped to a vertical rotating column. As it slowly spins around I am greeted with the lash across my back, my buttocks, my legs. He spares nothing, but goes over me well. This is not a discipline whipping but a preparation whipping. I must be toughened for what I am to endure.
The whipping lasts a half hour, and I am tired when it is over. It was not very painful, but my body tingles all over. "Come back after lunch for the other side," he says , and I nod.
I am given an enema before lunch. Fortunately it is a small one, warm, not hot, and as I sit for lunch I already feel overwhelmed. Lunch is a simple salad. It is elegant and tasty, with three kinds of lettuce, several exotic vegetables, and a spicy low-calorie dressing.
After lunch I spend an hour in the warm sauna, and then it is back to Mark. Again I am strapped to the pole, but this time my back is pressed against it. My breasts and crotch are fully exposed to his lash and he does not spare me but whips me all over. This is more painful but Mark is gentle. He does not want to hurt me, only help me to feel. It is wonderful.
After my whipping I go to my room for a short nap, then to Sarah for another enema, this one larger and with warmer water. She leaves it inside me for a good fifteen minutes and when she returns she takes a small wooden paddle from a drawer and spanks my bottom at least a dozen times, sternly warning me not to lose my enema. It is difficult, but somehow I manage. My bottom feels good and warm when she is done, though my face is flushed with shame at being treated like this. It is good none of my friends or associates are here!
My next stop is the weight room, and here the strange man makes me really work. We begin with stretching and calisthetics, and then pump iron on various machines for almost an hour. We work on my pecs, , my abs, my legs, everything. I am exhausted when we finish. My trainer pushed me hard and didn't hesitate to spank me whenever he thought I needed it.
In my chamber the attendants are waiting for me, and again I am showered and washed without being allowed to do it myself.
Supper is light. A clear broth followed by steamed vegetables and small slice of roasted chicken. The meal is delicious, though the portions are small. For dessert there is a small quivering cube of Jello.
I read for a while before bed, but soon fall asleep. It is barely dark outside but I am too tired to keep my eyes open.
In the morning I am awakened before dawn and led by an attendant to the showers. There are many of us here, all women. Two attendants spray all of us with water and our own attendants wash us down. It is strange. There is much laughter and giggling and yet I can see many of the girls have been treated severely, their buttocks and thighs whipped. In a few days I shall be like them, perhaps even today. Will I be ready?
I am taken outside and naturally I am not allowed any clothing. First is the whipping, this time by a petite female . She binds me to the cross-post with my hands above my head and whips me all over. She uses a cloth whip with many tails, and it does not hurt at all--it only _feels_. It is hard to describe. In some ways it is too light, and I want more, but in other ways it is too intense.
Occasionally during the whipping the woman stops and caresses my body. She feels my skin and tells me I am beautiful, and then she whips me more. Finally, after a long time (it felt like hours but was about forty minutes) she puts down the cloth whip and picks up a heavy leather strap. With this she whips my bottom and thighs, and this _hurts_. No games here, this is pain. I writhe and cry out but it does no good. She spanks me until my bottom flesh is roasting, and then she sprays me with water from a squirt bottle, the fine mist settling all over my body. Then she whips me with the cloth whip for another ten minutes.
After my hour of whipping I am led to the sweatbox, a small metal container in the middle of the courtyard. There are several of these. They are like miniature greenhouses, with curved roofs that dissipate the sun's rays. Inside is a small bed where I stretch out, still naked. The woman locks me in.
Time passes slowly. I drift in and out of sleep. It is very warm. Not hot, but warm. My body glistens with sweat and my buttocks and thighs sting. After an eternity the woman returns. "How long was I in there?" I ask as I climb out. My body drips with sweat.
"Two hours," she says, and leads me to the whipping post again. My arms are bound above my head and this time the whipping is with a real whip--threads of leather dangling from a wooden handle. It is still a light whipping but now the blows sting. The woman moves all around me, varying the blows. She never strikes the same place twice. She'll catch my bottom with a blow and then my breasts. Another will come from the front but slap the backs of my thighs. She whips my belly and back, my chest, the front of my legs, and even brings the whip of between my legs. I am soon moaning softly and whimpering. It does no good.
The whipping continues now with a thicker whip, and it leaves marks. Tiny welts begin to appear all over my body: my breasts, my belly, my inner thighs, my buttocks, my back, my calves. I cannot stop weeping. It hurts very much.
With the whipping done the woman takes up a long riding crop and strikes the back of my legs and my buttocks a couple dozen strokes. Each blow leaves a thick welt pulsing and throbbing, and I scream with each application.
After the cropping the woman splashes me with two buckets of salt water, one to my front and one to my back. My body burns with feeling. She unchains me and takes me to the mudbaths where I am covered with thick, gooey mud that feels deliciously cool and wonderful against my stinging flesh. I am left in the mud to soak for an hour. I am blissfully happy.
The icy spray used to wash off the mud is horrible. It stings but numbs my body. I am forced to rotate my body every which way so that the spray can wash me clean. The mud has invaded my entire body, especially between my legs, and I know that I shall have to be thoroughly cleaned later.
A white terry-cloth robe is provided and I head for the cafeteria for a late lunch. I am famished and hope that there is more than salad. As I walk, my body aching, I think of what lies ahead, part of me, a deeper, perhaps more intimate part, is feverishly excited. I know that this place will transform me, it will be worth the effort.
If you have stories to share, lcs, you might consider starting your own thread on which to feature them.Thank you Kathy, I love your fantasy. I also share a desire to be whipped. Unsure if you want any of my stories here? Thank you
You can post them here or start you own thread , it's your choiceThank you Kathy, I love your fantasy. I also share a desire to be whipped. Unsure if you want any of my stories here? Thank you