Aaah! This is it then...
Hold out my wrists for the manacles. It's a strangely lovely feeling of self-surrender as she screws them on me, "really tight!" I whisper.
Stand here, back to Willowfall's back. Good girl. Arms up, it's going to be the Pulley - Willow and me, swinging together!
Ah, that's nice, just stretched to bring us to tiptoe. Ankle-shackles, so we can't kick the B'Stard sisters, but we can dance...
They look like they mean business these two - Linda's as I expected, stilleto finger-nails, the worst kind of riding-crop, whalebone-springy with a splayed tip to spread the bruise - gleaming polished leather, bet she's proud of that. But Cruella - stripped for action, looks no more than a kid, but hard as a Cross-nail, and she's wielding a triple-plaited thong that'll cut me like a bacon-slicer...
Willowfall and I exchange bum-presses, "Good luck, love"
OOOW! Cruella starts on me - just practice flicks, not going for my nipples yet, just threatening them - Ooh! I try to tough it, but the way she makes each lash tear into my flesh soon gets me squealing - no m-more, please! She sneers, aims higher now - ahhh! Now she's caught my breast, and a surge of pain-pleasure suddenly seizes me - it's starting now, my legs begin to dance, she grins as she recognises the familiar signs - her victim's in the ecstasy of pain!
My schoolgirl ballet lessons have trained me well for something I never dreamed of as I plieed and pirouetted at the bar!
Flogged to a frenzy, leaping and twisting, squirming and writhing, our sweating bodies slithering together, heads, shoulders, buttocks exchanging sharp shocks of pain, our shrieking and whining a ghastly duet!
Willowfall's wrist and ankle chains are linked to mine, so when she tugs, I'm pulled, when I kick, she's tossed - a cruelly simple way to make us hurt each other, only way to escape being wrenched is to keep relaxed - not easy when you're watching the B'Stard sisters cavorting around you, trying to anticipate, trying in vain to dodge their vicious blows...
No idea how many lashes - each of 'em must have had at least a dozen shots at my tits, nipples swollen now and oozing blood, half a dozen apiece to my pussy, Linda's crop raising weals across my fanny and tops of my thighs, Cruella's thong taking exquisite bites at my vulva, and as many or more around my armpits, rib-cage, hips, loins and thighs, often snaking around Willowfall and me at a single stroke...
And now they've paused - have they done their stint? Ah yes, Linda's picked up my scanty panties from the dungeon floor, she's using them to wipe and lovingly polish her precious riding-crop.
Willow and I hang panting, streaming sweat, still jerking and throbbing to the rhythm set up by the lash as we absorb our pain. Blood's trickling down my thighs, spurting from my breasts. I'm exhausted, gasping - yet feel very sexy, the sweaty heat, all that gymnastic skipping, all those sharp stings to my nipples and clit, have set my girl-juices pumping - Willowfall too, I guess, in this oestrus-heavy air - we're a pair of hinds hot from the chase, ready for the stags!
I glance expectantly at the men who've been enjoying the performance from the viewing gallery, turning my body towards them to let them see me better, and feel pleasure in the sense of their eyes feasting on my ripped and battered body.
But there's a sudden hush. Three people have entered the Dungeon, I can tell from their dress they are of the highest rank - a handsome, proud, authoritative lady, another lady, fierce and powerful looking with red hair, and a tall, muscular gentleman who grins with evil contempt as he eyes my female assets. They're in deep discussion - what are they planning for us now?