Nandita To Nandini
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Ordeal And Acceptance ( BDSM ) free porn video
Robert was late getting to the club. He hated being late anytime, but particularly this time, because he'd agreed to be part of the show. He hoped he hadn't missed his chance.
The week before, the club's owner and dungeon master had announced that a pair of well-known, experienced Dommes would be visiting from out of town to give demonstrations. They needed volunteers to take some heavy punishment. The owner had been very clear that the visitors would administer intense pain and lots of it.
"These women are strong. They play hard. Don't sign up unless you're very serious," he had warned. "They're also friends of mine, so I don't want you to embarrass me by wimping out," he added.
Robert had signed up.
The prospect of being publicly tortured by strong Dommes had been intriguing by itself, but Robert had another, much deeper motive. He had only recently moved to town, and, while he'd been welcomed to the club and found some Dommes to top him there, he had become obsessed with one Domme with whom he hadn't yet played. She was popular, highly-accomplished, and always attracted admiring crowds when she played. She also, he knew, only played with subs who had "proven themselves."
Her name was Mona. Tall and lithe, she wore either leather or latex outfits that showcased what Robert thought was the sexiest body he'd ever seen. He had fallen under her spell the first time he saw her play.
She was truly masterful in her scenes, an expert in a wide range of dominant skills. She played with enthusiasm, good humor, and the style of a practiced performer. She wielded whips, floggers, and other implements with the finesse expected of a practiced musician with a fine instrument. Her movements were fluid and dance-like.
Under her control, the naked body of her sub became a canvas for her impressive artistry. She worked her subs long and hard, giving pain with skilled precision, as if it were precious medicine, carefully administered to produce exactly her intended effect. At the end of her scenes, her subs always glowed with pride at their achievements of endurance and floated on a sea of endorphins.
Whenever she played, Robert was transfixed by the spectacle, wishing he could take the place of whomever she was tormenting. He'd spoken with her briefly a couple times. She had been polite and friendly, but he was clearly not yet on her radar. He hoped to remedy that by volunteering for the night's show.
As he entered the club, he heard the unmistakable sounds of leather striking flesh. Sharp reports echoed throughout the large room. The crowd was larger than usual, but, he immediately noticed, quieter than usual. Everyone was watching the ongoing show.
He worked his way through the crowd to a spot from which he could see the action. A slim, fit young woman in her mid-20s was bent naked over the club's spanking horse, wrists and ankles secured with cuffs. A tall, strong blonde woman clad in leather shorts, halter top, and knee-high boots wielded a heavy flogger. She was delivering forceful blows to the victim's buttocks in a studied, deliberate manner. As each blow landed with a loud report, the young woman's head jerked, her breasts bounced, and she involuntarily exhaled.
Robert soon noticed that the pace of the blows was increasing steadily. The girl's nicely-rounded butt cheeks were bright red, and the flogger was falling on skin already well-tenderized. Even halfway across the room, Robert could hear the labored breathing and low moans of the young woman on the horse. Her muscles were tense, straining against the unyielding leather of the cuffs. Her back and arms glistened with sweat. After each blow of the heavy leather, the naked woman's legs quivered uncontrollably. This scene, he realized, had been in progress for some time and, from the looks of things, had to be coming to an end.
The end came with a sudden burst of rapid, hard blows that left the recipient with no time to catch her breath between them. As the sharp sounds turned into a rapid-fire staccato, the victim jerked her head up and down, and every muscle in her body began to quiver. Her moans became steady and louder.
With a flourish, the blonde Domme stopped, turned and made a slight bow toward the crowd. The victim took a few seconds to realize that the punishment was over, then dropped her head and gulped huge breaths of air. The Domme was joined by a muscular brunette in an identical leather outfit, and both went to the horse. One leaned down and spoke softly to the victim, placing a hand on her shoulder. Soon the two unhooked the cuffs from the horse, helped the young woman up, took her arms and helped her walk toward the crowd where several friends embraced her and led her to a quiet corner.
A round of applause rippled through the crowd. The club's owner emerged from the crowd and announced, "Break time. Next scene starts in a few minutes."
Robert wondered what he'd gotten himself in for. He realized the earlier warning about serious pain had been for real -- more real than he'd guessed at the time.
Any thought of escape, however, was quickly eliminated when the owner spotted him.
"Glad to see you made it. You're next. Wait here and when the ladies are ready, I'll bring you to them."
"OK," Robert answered, now feeling a tinge of fear. He looked around and saw several people he knew. He realized he was committed. He knew, however, that no matter how severe the scene, he would have to "take it well." Neither Mona nor the other Dommes liked whiners or wimps. He remembered her disdain at one sub who had lost his composure under the lash.
In a few minutes, the two women strode back into the club's extensive play area, heading toward the spanking horse. Robert noted, with some trepidation, that they were both very strong. Their black leather outfits revealed rippled abdomens, strong thighs, and heavily-muscled, powerful arms. It was obvious they were no strangers to the gym. It struck him that they were much stronger than any Dommes he'd played with before. He began to wonder if he could take the kind of pain they obviously could inflict.
The dungeon master came through the crowd and gestured to Robert, "Come on, it's time." Robert followed him.
"Here's your next volunteer," the owner told the two women, then turned back toward the crowd.
The women reached out and grasped Robert's hands.
"Thanks for volunteering," said the blonde who had been flogging the young woman.
She stood directly in front of Robert, reached out, gripped each of his shoulders, and looked straight into his face. She was slightly taller than him. Her firm grip on his shoulders and her penetrating gaze instantly conveyed that she was in control.
"You realize this is going to be severe?"
"Yes," Robert replied, sounding much more confident than he felt.
"And you're OK with that?"
"Yes."
"Fine. Then let me explain how this will go. We're going to work on you as long and as hard as we think you can take it safely. It's all up to us. We'll watch you carefully, but the decision to stop is ours alone.
"Understand?"
"Yes," Robert replied, though not really sure he meant it. If he'd had any doubt about the woman's strength, her grip on his shoulders dispelled it. He knew he was going to suffer, and seriously.
"OK, then -- get your clothes off."
The fear of being seen wimping out overcame his fear of pain. Robert quickly stripped off his clothes, handing them to one of the women, who placed them on a nearby table.
They pointed him toward a St. Andrew's cross that stood next to the spanking horse. Next, they buckled leather cuffs around his wrists and ankles, then secured him to the cross, facing outward.
Spread-eagled naked on the cross, Robert was in full view of the crowd. The club's play area, where the equipment resided, was much better lit than the surrounding space, so Robert could see the crowd only with some difficulty. He quickly scanned the faces he could see, recognizing several. He knew that his nude body now was the focus of attention for the whole room. Though he'd wanted to be noticed, he now found this exposure unexpectedly uncomfortable.
Then he saw Mona. She stood with some of her friends near the front of the crowd, with a good view of the action to come. He drew a deep breath, realizing that, just as he had hoped, he now had the chance he'd wanted to impress her. He couldn't screw this up; he had to take the punishment and take it well.
At 23, he was lean and sinewy, with slight tan lines showing the outline of his swimsuit. With his arms pulled tightly overhead, his flanks revealed the distinct outline of his ribs, and his lean abdomen curved inward from his ribcage. He was fit and worked out regularly, but, he would be the first to admit, he didn't show the muscled power that these women radiated.
The brunette Domme approached and closely inspected Robert's body, looking intently at every inch from head to toes. She grasped his stretched arms, feeling his forearms, then probed his biceps. She ran her fingers lightly over his chest, abdomen, ribcage, and thighs, checking his skin and muscle tone. Despite his apprehensions and increasing nervousness, this tactile attention began a stirring between his legs that quickly turned him rock-hard.
Apparently satisfied that her victim was ready, the Domme leaned forward, looking Robert straight in the eye. With a grin on her face, she suddenly grabbed both his nipples. Pinching them tightly between her strong thumbs and forefingers, she pulled, squeezed, then twisted the tender protrusions.
Still grinning, she squeezed the nipples ever more tightly. Robert was startled at first, then, as the pain increased, was amazed that anyone could cause him so much agony using only fingers. Determined not to show the pain, he stared back at his tormentor. With her smile just inches from his eyes, his brain struggled to reconcile the beauty of her face with the pain she inflicted.
After a few minutes of pulling, pinching, and twisting, the woman let go of Robert's nipples, walked behind him and returned with a pair of metal clamps. She quickly placed the clamps on Robert's now-sore nipples and screwed them down tightly.
Robert winced as the clamps bit sharply into his nipples.
Next, the woman walked alongside Robert. She slipped one hand between him and the cross, planting it firmly in the small of his back. With the other hand, she began lightly probing Robert's abdomen with stiffened fingertips that felt like steel rods.
She leaned close to his ear and spoke softly, "Tense your stomach muscles." Robert obeyed.
Swiftly, the woman slammed a hard, open palm forcefully onto Robert's stomach. If his muscles hadn't been tightened, the blow would have knocked the wind out of him.
"You'll want to keep those muscles tense," she said, again smiling.
She then began giving Robert's gut a hard hand spanking. The blows stung sharply, and soon Robert's whole midsection felt like it was slowly burning. The area between his chest and his pelvis quickly turned red.
Robert concentrated on keeping his stomach muscles tense, knowing that if any of the blows fell on a relaxed gut, he'd regret it. He felt that his stomach muscles were competing against her strong arms, and he was determined to withstand the assault.
The woman worked methodically, covering her target area thoroughly and repeatedly. The sound of the sharp smacks filled the room. The burn in Robert's gut was spreading to the rest of his body.
The pace of the blows increased steadily over several minutes until it was a rapid-fire assault. He struggled to breathe and keep his muscles tense at the same time. After a short series of very hard blows, the woman stopped, then reached up and removed the clamps from Robert's nipples.
The attack on his gut had made Robert forget about the nipple clamps, but when they were removed, a rush of blood back into the compressed tissue brought a fresh wave of pain. As he absorbed this sensation, Robert saw his tormenter take a new position directly in front of him. She looked into his face, checking his reactions, and gave him another brief, thin smile.
She now held a small, thick leather strap, about a foot long. With no further ceremony, she laid a hard blow with the strap onto Robert's right nipple. Robert let out a short shout at the sharp pain on the tender skin. The next blow fell on his left nipple. He again let out a low grunt.
The woman wielded the small strap with precise control, putting blows on the already-sore skin of Robert's stomach, along with carefully-applied blows to his chest. She worked up and down each side, covering Robert's chest, abdomen, and even the sides of his ribcage with well-aimed, painful blows. While concentrating on absorbing the pain, Robert marveled at the strength the woman put into every searing stroke. He focused on breathing, hoping to retain as much composure as possible, still remembering that he was on display and Mona was one of the spectators.
The first strokes of the strap had been timed far enough apart that Robert could feel the hard sting of one begin to turn into a low burning sensation before the next one fell. The pace picked up, however, and soon the blows were coming so rapidly that the pain of one piled onto the pain of the previous ones, stoking a continuous blaze.
Robert felt like his entire torso was on fire. The pain was at a level that matched that of any scene he'd done before. He could feel an endorphin rush beginning. He gritted his teeth in his determination to hold himself together through the pain, hoping the endorphins would soon help his tolerance.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other woman approaching.
The two Dommes exchanged glances, then the strapping ceased.
"Is he ready?"
"Yes."
With that, they unshackled Robert's cuffs from the cross. For a moment, he thought the ordeal was over, and began to feel relief. However, the women immediately half-carried him the few feet to the spanking horse. The cuffs were reshackled to the horse, and Robert was bent over it, legs and arms spread wide, ass in the air.
His relief that the torture of his torso was over was very brief. He now knew that worse was coming. He began to wonder how much more he could take. He breathed deeply and deliberately, trying to gather strength to endure the next onslaught.
The blonde Domme picked up a wide, thick, three-foot-long leather prison strap and took position behind and to one side of the spanking horse. A low murmur went through the crowd as they watched her muscled arm swing the imposing implement through the air to test its balance. Robert felt the strap lightly brush his buttocks as she adjusted her position to measure the strokes.
The first stroke landed with a loud report and both sounded and felt like an explosion in Robert's ass. If he hadn't been secured to the heavy horse, the blow would have knocked him to the floor. He gasped for air, unable to yell. The fire of the explosion spread outward from the impact, and the woman paused to let him feel the full effect.
When he recovered his breath, Robert realized that the torture on the cross had been mere preparation -- to get his endorphins flowing. Without the preparation he couldn't have taken this first blow of the prison strap. Though accustomed to having his ass beaten, this blow was the strongest Robert had ever endured. The thought flashed through his mind that he was entering new territory beyond any of his previous experience. "I've got to hold it together," he told himself, "because Mona is watching."
That thought was barely finished when the next blow fell, causing Robert to once again struggle for breath. The third came after a shorter interval, followed by more, all delivered with tremendous force.
The blonde Domme worked in an orderly fashion, aiming the blows to cover Robert's butt top to bottom, and included his upper thighs. Ambidexterous, she switched sides to even out the punishment to both of the buttcheeks as well as the backs of his thighs.
Robert's nude body soon was covered with a thin sheen of sweat, and his arm and leg muscles tensed constantly in a struggle against the cuffs. The harsh spotlights beaming down from the ceiling highlighted his straining muscles with a moving interplay of light and shadow, emphasized by the light glistening brightly off the sweat. His butt was turning a bright and deepening red.
The woman continued her methodical torture, and picked up the pace. Each powerful stroke sent a shock through his body, making his head jerk and his breathing briefly halt.
As the woman increased the pace of the strapping, a raging fire began to fill Robert's entire body, constantly refreshed with new heat from each blow to his butt. The fire became the focus of his existence, as his awareness of his surroundings slowly narrowed. His brain was fogging with endorphins, but the Domme skillfully kept the pain just ahead of his body's ability to erase it with the natural d**gs. His breathing became labored and he began to emit low groans. He completely lost track of time and felt like the agony was continuing forever. His world consisted only of pain and his determination to endure it. An image of Mona's face flashed through his mind, strengthening his determination.
Though in a near-stupor from the pain and the fog in his brain, Robert noticed a lull in the strapping and saw shadows move.
Suddenly, he heard a swish, then felt a sharp, fierce jolt followed by a new flash of even hotter fire cutting into his butt. He shouted, then gasped for air, and pulled sharply against his restraints.
The strap had been traded for a cane.
The first stroke of the cane fell across the top of Robert's butt. The audience watched a welt rise immediately.
Robert's body shook as he absorbed the shock and pain of the cane stroke. He had not recovered when the next one came, searing into his flesh. Once again an explosion of white-hot flame spread through his body. He let out a yell. His legs began to quiver involuntarily, pulling rhythmically against the cuffs restraining his ankles. It took all his determination to keep from begging for relief.
Four more cane strokes came, each one delivering a powerful shock that buffeted Robert's ass, followed by another fiery explosion of pain tearing through his body. His muscles throbbed from the struggle against the restraints. His lungs screamed for air, and sweat poured profusely from his skin.
The strong Domme had placed the six cane strokes at precise intervals from the top of Robert's butt down to the top of his thighs. Each stroke left its own distinctive, angry welt on top of the dark-red background of his thoroughly-strapped backside. The sight was a visual testimony to her strength, skill and control.
The cane strokes were the finale. Laying aside the cane, the woman and her partner went to the horse, looked Robert in the face, and told him the scene was finished. At first, the words didn't register with him. The blonde who had strapped and caned him steadied his shoulders with a firm grip while her partner gently massaged his upper back. They did this for several minutes, allowing him to breathe and recover some before unshackling him from the horse. It took some time, and repeated assurances from the women, for him to come out of his pain- and endorphin-induced fog enough to realize his ordeal was over.
One on each side, the women helped him stand up. He gratefully accepted the help, resting most of his weight on their strong arms for several minutes while he breathed heavily and regained some strength.
When they felt he had recovered enough to understand, they both congratulated him. His body still on fire, his ass still throbbing, and with his brain barely regaining any alertness, he began to feel some relief.
When the women walked him closer to the crowd and turned him around to display his ravaged backside, he began to hear admiring remarks. Through the pain and the endorphin-fueled mental fog, the fire and agony began to be joined by a stirring of pride, as the sound of applause penetrated his consciousness. He no longer felt uncomfortable at being on display -- the pain had become his clothing. Indeed, he now was very happy for the crowd to see his tortured body.
Steadied by the firm grasp of the two strong Dommes, Robert slowly gained a sense of accomplishment. The crowd obviously respected his endurance. They were applauding him and talking about him. He had, he realized, gotten the notice he'd wanted. He felt he'd just earned his place in this club.
Still carrying most of his weight themselves, the women steered him toward a couch. They gently sat him down on a pillow a thoughtful spectator had brought, then sat on either side of him, holding him firmly. The strong hands and arms that had given him such intense pain now were used to massage and steady him while he recovered.
When his breathing had returned to normal and he was able to respond to simple questions rationally, the women began to get up from the couch.
Before doing so, though, the blonde leaned her face next to his. "Good job," she told him.
The brunette leaned her head in on the other side, and grinning widely, gently brushed his lips with hers, then said in a low, husky voice, "Yes, a really good job. You did very well."
When the two women left, Robert realized that he still felt a pair of hands on his shoulders. He turned back to see who was behind him.
It was Mona, smiling.
***
NOTICE: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, or events is purely coincidental.
The week before, the club's owner and dungeon master had announced that a pair of well-known, experienced Dommes would be visiting from out of town to give demonstrations. They needed volunteers to take some heavy punishment. The owner had been very clear that the visitors would administer intense pain and lots of it.
"These women are strong. They play hard. Don't sign up unless you're very serious," he had warned. "They're also friends of mine, so I don't want you to embarrass me by wimping out," he added.
Robert had signed up.
The prospect of being publicly tortured by strong Dommes had been intriguing by itself, but Robert had another, much deeper motive. He had only recently moved to town, and, while he'd been welcomed to the club and found some Dommes to top him there, he had become obsessed with one Domme with whom he hadn't yet played. She was popular, highly-accomplished, and always attracted admiring crowds when she played. She also, he knew, only played with subs who had "proven themselves."
Her name was Mona. Tall and lithe, she wore either leather or latex outfits that showcased what Robert thought was the sexiest body he'd ever seen. He had fallen under her spell the first time he saw her play.
She was truly masterful in her scenes, an expert in a wide range of dominant skills. She played with enthusiasm, good humor, and the style of a practiced performer. She wielded whips, floggers, and other implements with the finesse expected of a practiced musician with a fine instrument. Her movements were fluid and dance-like.
Under her control, the naked body of her sub became a canvas for her impressive artistry. She worked her subs long and hard, giving pain with skilled precision, as if it were precious medicine, carefully administered to produce exactly her intended effect. At the end of her scenes, her subs always glowed with pride at their achievements of endurance and floated on a sea of endorphins.
Whenever she played, Robert was transfixed by the spectacle, wishing he could take the place of whomever she was tormenting. He'd spoken with her briefly a couple times. She had been polite and friendly, but he was clearly not yet on her radar. He hoped to remedy that by volunteering for the night's show.
As he entered the club, he heard the unmistakable sounds of leather striking flesh. Sharp reports echoed throughout the large room. The crowd was larger than usual, but, he immediately noticed, quieter than usual. Everyone was watching the ongoing show.
He worked his way through the crowd to a spot from which he could see the action. A slim, fit young woman in her mid-20s was bent naked over the club's spanking horse, wrists and ankles secured with cuffs. A tall, strong blonde woman clad in leather shorts, halter top, and knee-high boots wielded a heavy flogger. She was delivering forceful blows to the victim's buttocks in a studied, deliberate manner. As each blow landed with a loud report, the young woman's head jerked, her breasts bounced, and she involuntarily exhaled.
Robert soon noticed that the pace of the blows was increasing steadily. The girl's nicely-rounded butt cheeks were bright red, and the flogger was falling on skin already well-tenderized. Even halfway across the room, Robert could hear the labored breathing and low moans of the young woman on the horse. Her muscles were tense, straining against the unyielding leather of the cuffs. Her back and arms glistened with sweat. After each blow of the heavy leather, the naked woman's legs quivered uncontrollably. This scene, he realized, had been in progress for some time and, from the looks of things, had to be coming to an end.
The end came with a sudden burst of rapid, hard blows that left the recipient with no time to catch her breath between them. As the sharp sounds turned into a rapid-fire staccato, the victim jerked her head up and down, and every muscle in her body began to quiver. Her moans became steady and louder.
With a flourish, the blonde Domme stopped, turned and made a slight bow toward the crowd. The victim took a few seconds to realize that the punishment was over, then dropped her head and gulped huge breaths of air. The Domme was joined by a muscular brunette in an identical leather outfit, and both went to the horse. One leaned down and spoke softly to the victim, placing a hand on her shoulder. Soon the two unhooked the cuffs from the horse, helped the young woman up, took her arms and helped her walk toward the crowd where several friends embraced her and led her to a quiet corner.
A round of applause rippled through the crowd. The club's owner emerged from the crowd and announced, "Break time. Next scene starts in a few minutes."
Robert wondered what he'd gotten himself in for. He realized the earlier warning about serious pain had been for real -- more real than he'd guessed at the time.
Any thought of escape, however, was quickly eliminated when the owner spotted him.
"Glad to see you made it. You're next. Wait here and when the ladies are ready, I'll bring you to them."
"OK," Robert answered, now feeling a tinge of fear. He looked around and saw several people he knew. He realized he was committed. He knew, however, that no matter how severe the scene, he would have to "take it well." Neither Mona nor the other Dommes liked whiners or wimps. He remembered her disdain at one sub who had lost his composure under the lash.
In a few minutes, the two women strode back into the club's extensive play area, heading toward the spanking horse. Robert noted, with some trepidation, that they were both very strong. Their black leather outfits revealed rippled abdomens, strong thighs, and heavily-muscled, powerful arms. It was obvious they were no strangers to the gym. It struck him that they were much stronger than any Dommes he'd played with before. He began to wonder if he could take the kind of pain they obviously could inflict.
The dungeon master came through the crowd and gestured to Robert, "Come on, it's time." Robert followed him.
"Here's your next volunteer," the owner told the two women, then turned back toward the crowd.
The women reached out and grasped Robert's hands.
"Thanks for volunteering," said the blonde who had been flogging the young woman.
She stood directly in front of Robert, reached out, gripped each of his shoulders, and looked straight into his face. She was slightly taller than him. Her firm grip on his shoulders and her penetrating gaze instantly conveyed that she was in control.
"You realize this is going to be severe?"
"Yes," Robert replied, sounding much more confident than he felt.
"And you're OK with that?"
"Yes."
"Fine. Then let me explain how this will go. We're going to work on you as long and as hard as we think you can take it safely. It's all up to us. We'll watch you carefully, but the decision to stop is ours alone.
"Understand?"
"Yes," Robert replied, though not really sure he meant it. If he'd had any doubt about the woman's strength, her grip on his shoulders dispelled it. He knew he was going to suffer, and seriously.
"OK, then -- get your clothes off."
The fear of being seen wimping out overcame his fear of pain. Robert quickly stripped off his clothes, handing them to one of the women, who placed them on a nearby table.
They pointed him toward a St. Andrew's cross that stood next to the spanking horse. Next, they buckled leather cuffs around his wrists and ankles, then secured him to the cross, facing outward.
Spread-eagled naked on the cross, Robert was in full view of the crowd. The club's play area, where the equipment resided, was much better lit than the surrounding space, so Robert could see the crowd only with some difficulty. He quickly scanned the faces he could see, recognizing several. He knew that his nude body now was the focus of attention for the whole room. Though he'd wanted to be noticed, he now found this exposure unexpectedly uncomfortable.
Then he saw Mona. She stood with some of her friends near the front of the crowd, with a good view of the action to come. He drew a deep breath, realizing that, just as he had hoped, he now had the chance he'd wanted to impress her. He couldn't screw this up; he had to take the punishment and take it well.
At 23, he was lean and sinewy, with slight tan lines showing the outline of his swimsuit. With his arms pulled tightly overhead, his flanks revealed the distinct outline of his ribs, and his lean abdomen curved inward from his ribcage. He was fit and worked out regularly, but, he would be the first to admit, he didn't show the muscled power that these women radiated.
The brunette Domme approached and closely inspected Robert's body, looking intently at every inch from head to toes. She grasped his stretched arms, feeling his forearms, then probed his biceps. She ran her fingers lightly over his chest, abdomen, ribcage, and thighs, checking his skin and muscle tone. Despite his apprehensions and increasing nervousness, this tactile attention began a stirring between his legs that quickly turned him rock-hard.
Apparently satisfied that her victim was ready, the Domme leaned forward, looking Robert straight in the eye. With a grin on her face, she suddenly grabbed both his nipples. Pinching them tightly between her strong thumbs and forefingers, she pulled, squeezed, then twisted the tender protrusions.
Still grinning, she squeezed the nipples ever more tightly. Robert was startled at first, then, as the pain increased, was amazed that anyone could cause him so much agony using only fingers. Determined not to show the pain, he stared back at his tormentor. With her smile just inches from his eyes, his brain struggled to reconcile the beauty of her face with the pain she inflicted.
After a few minutes of pulling, pinching, and twisting, the woman let go of Robert's nipples, walked behind him and returned with a pair of metal clamps. She quickly placed the clamps on Robert's now-sore nipples and screwed them down tightly.
Robert winced as the clamps bit sharply into his nipples.
Next, the woman walked alongside Robert. She slipped one hand between him and the cross, planting it firmly in the small of his back. With the other hand, she began lightly probing Robert's abdomen with stiffened fingertips that felt like steel rods.
She leaned close to his ear and spoke softly, "Tense your stomach muscles." Robert obeyed.
Swiftly, the woman slammed a hard, open palm forcefully onto Robert's stomach. If his muscles hadn't been tightened, the blow would have knocked the wind out of him.
"You'll want to keep those muscles tense," she said, again smiling.
She then began giving Robert's gut a hard hand spanking. The blows stung sharply, and soon Robert's whole midsection felt like it was slowly burning. The area between his chest and his pelvis quickly turned red.
Robert concentrated on keeping his stomach muscles tense, knowing that if any of the blows fell on a relaxed gut, he'd regret it. He felt that his stomach muscles were competing against her strong arms, and he was determined to withstand the assault.
The woman worked methodically, covering her target area thoroughly and repeatedly. The sound of the sharp smacks filled the room. The burn in Robert's gut was spreading to the rest of his body.
The pace of the blows increased steadily over several minutes until it was a rapid-fire assault. He struggled to breathe and keep his muscles tense at the same time. After a short series of very hard blows, the woman stopped, then reached up and removed the clamps from Robert's nipples.
The attack on his gut had made Robert forget about the nipple clamps, but when they were removed, a rush of blood back into the compressed tissue brought a fresh wave of pain. As he absorbed this sensation, Robert saw his tormenter take a new position directly in front of him. She looked into his face, checking his reactions, and gave him another brief, thin smile.
She now held a small, thick leather strap, about a foot long. With no further ceremony, she laid a hard blow with the strap onto Robert's right nipple. Robert let out a short shout at the sharp pain on the tender skin. The next blow fell on his left nipple. He again let out a low grunt.
The woman wielded the small strap with precise control, putting blows on the already-sore skin of Robert's stomach, along with carefully-applied blows to his chest. She worked up and down each side, covering Robert's chest, abdomen, and even the sides of his ribcage with well-aimed, painful blows. While concentrating on absorbing the pain, Robert marveled at the strength the woman put into every searing stroke. He focused on breathing, hoping to retain as much composure as possible, still remembering that he was on display and Mona was one of the spectators.
The first strokes of the strap had been timed far enough apart that Robert could feel the hard sting of one begin to turn into a low burning sensation before the next one fell. The pace picked up, however, and soon the blows were coming so rapidly that the pain of one piled onto the pain of the previous ones, stoking a continuous blaze.
Robert felt like his entire torso was on fire. The pain was at a level that matched that of any scene he'd done before. He could feel an endorphin rush beginning. He gritted his teeth in his determination to hold himself together through the pain, hoping the endorphins would soon help his tolerance.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other woman approaching.
The two Dommes exchanged glances, then the strapping ceased.
"Is he ready?"
"Yes."
With that, they unshackled Robert's cuffs from the cross. For a moment, he thought the ordeal was over, and began to feel relief. However, the women immediately half-carried him the few feet to the spanking horse. The cuffs were reshackled to the horse, and Robert was bent over it, legs and arms spread wide, ass in the air.
His relief that the torture of his torso was over was very brief. He now knew that worse was coming. He began to wonder how much more he could take. He breathed deeply and deliberately, trying to gather strength to endure the next onslaught.
The blonde Domme picked up a wide, thick, three-foot-long leather prison strap and took position behind and to one side of the spanking horse. A low murmur went through the crowd as they watched her muscled arm swing the imposing implement through the air to test its balance. Robert felt the strap lightly brush his buttocks as she adjusted her position to measure the strokes.
The first stroke landed with a loud report and both sounded and felt like an explosion in Robert's ass. If he hadn't been secured to the heavy horse, the blow would have knocked him to the floor. He gasped for air, unable to yell. The fire of the explosion spread outward from the impact, and the woman paused to let him feel the full effect.
When he recovered his breath, Robert realized that the torture on the cross had been mere preparation -- to get his endorphins flowing. Without the preparation he couldn't have taken this first blow of the prison strap. Though accustomed to having his ass beaten, this blow was the strongest Robert had ever endured. The thought flashed through his mind that he was entering new territory beyond any of his previous experience. "I've got to hold it together," he told himself, "because Mona is watching."
That thought was barely finished when the next blow fell, causing Robert to once again struggle for breath. The third came after a shorter interval, followed by more, all delivered with tremendous force.
The blonde Domme worked in an orderly fashion, aiming the blows to cover Robert's butt top to bottom, and included his upper thighs. Ambidexterous, she switched sides to even out the punishment to both of the buttcheeks as well as the backs of his thighs.
Robert's nude body soon was covered with a thin sheen of sweat, and his arm and leg muscles tensed constantly in a struggle against the cuffs. The harsh spotlights beaming down from the ceiling highlighted his straining muscles with a moving interplay of light and shadow, emphasized by the light glistening brightly off the sweat. His butt was turning a bright and deepening red.
The woman continued her methodical torture, and picked up the pace. Each powerful stroke sent a shock through his body, making his head jerk and his breathing briefly halt.
As the woman increased the pace of the strapping, a raging fire began to fill Robert's entire body, constantly refreshed with new heat from each blow to his butt. The fire became the focus of his existence, as his awareness of his surroundings slowly narrowed. His brain was fogging with endorphins, but the Domme skillfully kept the pain just ahead of his body's ability to erase it with the natural d**gs. His breathing became labored and he began to emit low groans. He completely lost track of time and felt like the agony was continuing forever. His world consisted only of pain and his determination to endure it. An image of Mona's face flashed through his mind, strengthening his determination.
Though in a near-stupor from the pain and the fog in his brain, Robert noticed a lull in the strapping and saw shadows move.
Suddenly, he heard a swish, then felt a sharp, fierce jolt followed by a new flash of even hotter fire cutting into his butt. He shouted, then gasped for air, and pulled sharply against his restraints.
The strap had been traded for a cane.
The first stroke of the cane fell across the top of Robert's butt. The audience watched a welt rise immediately.
Robert's body shook as he absorbed the shock and pain of the cane stroke. He had not recovered when the next one came, searing into his flesh. Once again an explosion of white-hot flame spread through his body. He let out a yell. His legs began to quiver involuntarily, pulling rhythmically against the cuffs restraining his ankles. It took all his determination to keep from begging for relief.
Four more cane strokes came, each one delivering a powerful shock that buffeted Robert's ass, followed by another fiery explosion of pain tearing through his body. His muscles throbbed from the struggle against the restraints. His lungs screamed for air, and sweat poured profusely from his skin.
The strong Domme had placed the six cane strokes at precise intervals from the top of Robert's butt down to the top of his thighs. Each stroke left its own distinctive, angry welt on top of the dark-red background of his thoroughly-strapped backside. The sight was a visual testimony to her strength, skill and control.
The cane strokes were the finale. Laying aside the cane, the woman and her partner went to the horse, looked Robert in the face, and told him the scene was finished. At first, the words didn't register with him. The blonde who had strapped and caned him steadied his shoulders with a firm grip while her partner gently massaged his upper back. They did this for several minutes, allowing him to breathe and recover some before unshackling him from the horse. It took some time, and repeated assurances from the women, for him to come out of his pain- and endorphin-induced fog enough to realize his ordeal was over.
One on each side, the women helped him stand up. He gratefully accepted the help, resting most of his weight on their strong arms for several minutes while he breathed heavily and regained some strength.
When they felt he had recovered enough to understand, they both congratulated him. His body still on fire, his ass still throbbing, and with his brain barely regaining any alertness, he began to feel some relief.
When the women walked him closer to the crowd and turned him around to display his ravaged backside, he began to hear admiring remarks. Through the pain and the endorphin-fueled mental fog, the fire and agony began to be joined by a stirring of pride, as the sound of applause penetrated his consciousness. He no longer felt uncomfortable at being on display -- the pain had become his clothing. Indeed, he now was very happy for the crowd to see his tortured body.
Steadied by the firm grasp of the two strong Dommes, Robert slowly gained a sense of accomplishment. The crowd obviously respected his endurance. They were applauding him and talking about him. He had, he realized, gotten the notice he'd wanted. He felt he'd just earned his place in this club.
Still carrying most of his weight themselves, the women steered him toward a couch. They gently sat him down on a pillow a thoughtful spectator had brought, then sat on either side of him, holding him firmly. The strong hands and arms that had given him such intense pain now were used to massage and steady him while he recovered.
When his breathing had returned to normal and he was able to respond to simple questions rationally, the women began to get up from the couch.
Before doing so, though, the blonde leaned her face next to his. "Good job," she told him.
The brunette leaned her head in on the other side, and grinning widely, gently brushed his lips with hers, then said in a low, husky voice, "Yes, a really good job. You did very well."
When the two women left, Robert realized that he still felt a pair of hands on his shoulders. He turned back to see who was behind him.
It was Mona, smiling.
***
NOTICE: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, or events is purely coincidental.
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