Prologue: This story begins where “Display Holder” ended with Nancy at a Male-Dom BDSM party. To read “Display Holder” first, click here.
Nancy pulled the curtain open and walked out of the makeshift toilet, hoping she had not overstayed her allotted five minutes.
“You look refreshed,” Arnold said. “How are you doing so far?”
“I’m okay, Sir.”
“Good. Turn around,” he ordered. When she obeyed, he pulled her arms behind her back, grasped the oval link attached to the ring of one wrist cuff, pressed it against the ring of the other cuff and it snapped open fastening the cuffs together. Nancy felt the familiar sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach when she heard the soft click of the spring clamp, and she pulled against the cuffs confirming that she had lost control of her arms and hands. Arnold grasped her arm above the elbow and led her to one side of the basement where a small group of people were gathered.
An attractive girl wearing a white slave dress like Nancy’s was standing with her back to the concrete block wall with wrists cuffed behind her back. A man wearing black shirt and pants attached the clips at the ends of two ropes hanging from rings in the overhead joists to the wrist cuffs holding the girl’s hands behind her back. He unfastened the cuffs from each other and pulled on the ropes until she was standing on her toes with arms spread wide above her head, and then he secured the ropes to brackets in the wall. He opened the Velcro strips at her waist and pulled the slave dress up over her head and tossed it on the concrete floor.
Nancy avoided looking at the man’s face as he began fastening clothespins up one side of the girl’s stomach beginning at her shaved pubis. The clothespins were attached about an inch apart to a string that descended from a ring in the ceiling near that of the rope. After attaching the last clothespin on the string to her nipple, he pulled the string tight through its ring and tied it to the girl’s thumb. He attached an identical string of clothespins up the other side of her stomach, and tied the end to the thumb of her other hand, and then he released the ropes from their bracket. Her arms relaxed a bit pulling off the first few clothespins, and then she stopped, keeping her arms spread wide above her head.
“Of course it would be easier on her to lower her arms and pull all the clothespins off at once, but most girls can’t do it. I’ll bet she’ll hold her arms up as long as she can and pull the pens off slowly, one at a time,” the man in black explained to the small audience.
Nancy watched the agonized expression on the girl’s face as she lowered one arm just enough to pull the last clothespin in line almost off, and then she lifted her arm up again.
Nancy squirmed as she felt hands slip into the open sides of her dress to grasp her breasts and pull her forcefully back against a masculine chest.
“I’m Master Lash,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m sure you remember our conversation, and you’ll be pleased to hear that Master Arnold has given his permission. Are you ready?”
“Do I have a choice, Sir?”
“No. But you can put it off for a moment by fondling my cock,” he whispered, pinching her nipples and pressing his hips against her cuffed hands.
Nancy ran her fingers over his pants and felt his penis beginning to grow.
“Open the zipper and put your hands inside,” he whispered, accenting the order with a harder pinch of her nipples.
He pulled his hips back a bit and she managed to open the zipper and slip her fingers inside. When she touched the bare skin she felt the penis harden and grow. She continued to lightly touch the head of his penis until it was fully erect.
“Good girl. You’ve got me in the mood for a whipping,” he whispered, pushing her away and zipping up his fly.
“Come along Arnold. You’ll like this,” he said as he grasped Nancy’s arm above the elbow and pulled her to the center of the basement where sturdy metal posts supported the floor above.
He attached a rope that was tied to one of the posts at about eye level to one of Nancy’s wrist cuffs, and then attached another rope to the other cuff and unfastened the cuffs from each other. He wrapped the second rope around an adjacent post and pulled it until Nancy was standing between the two posts with arms stretched out at shoulder height. He let the rope out a bit, allowing her elbows to bend, and then tied it securely to the post.
“I like to give the girl some wiggle room so she can dance for us,” he said to Arnold.
He opened the Velcro strips at Nancy’s waist and lifted the slave dress over her head and tossed it on the floor.
“The girl should be completely naked,” he said, kneeling and taking off Nancy’s heels. “Except for the cuffs, which are necessary, and the collar, which makes it all legit.”
The skimpy dress had not provided much privacy, but when it was suddenly gone Nancy felt a wave of embarrassment flow through her body. She noticed the group of people gathering in front of her, and she suddenly felt naked and exposed. She pulled against the ropes that cruelly frustrated every self-protective instinct, pressing the leather cuffs painfully into her wrists.
Master Lash leaned a four-foot square of plywood against one of the posts. It was painted white with thin vertical black strips down the front. As Nancy studied the stripes more carefully she realized they were six woven black-leather whips hanging from metal hooks. Each had a sturdy handle at the top and several short leather tongues at the bottom. The whips were of different lengths arranged in order with the longest on the right and the shortest on the left. A cold shiver ran down Nancy’s spine as she considered the obvious function of the exquisitely woven whips, arranged in an attractive pattern on the board.
“The length and weight of the whip are the major factors that determine its effect, along with the tongues at the tip,” Master Lash explained to the gathering group of observers. “We have six good examples here.” Nancy shivered on hearing his words.
He took the longest of the whips from the board and swung it in front of Nancy, jerking his wrist back sharply, and the whip made a loud crack. Nancy, startled by the sound, jumped and pulled against her cuffs, eliciting a ripple of laughter from the observers. Slowly recovering from the shock, Nancy stood naked in front of the growing group of observers with arms spread wide. She remembered the admonition never to look at a Master’s face and lowered her eyes to look at the crotches of the line of Masters standing in front of her, often with short white slave dresses between.
“These little tongues cause the crack of the whip with a sonic boom as the wave of the whip snaps them around at supersonic speed, but that’s just for show.” Master Lash explained holding the end of the whip up for Nancy to see. She noticed that the three short leather tongues were split in half at the end.
“They work better when they are wet,” he continued, “So let’s give them a nice French kiss.” He pressed the leather against Nancy’s lips, and she opened her mouth allowing him to push the end of the whip inside. She tasted the distinctive leather flavor and felt the sharp edges with her tongue. “That’s it; a tongue to tongue kiss.” He pulled the whip slowly out of her mouth and held it up for the observers to see.
Master Lash stood to one side, swung the whip and it slashed across Nancy’s thighs with a splat. Her body thrashed as she struggled in vain against her cuffs. He swung again and the whip slapped her belly just below the navel with the tip curling around her side. Twisting as much as the ropes would allow she jumped, lifting one leg, then the other. He swung again, the whip smacked her breasts, and she screamed involuntarily. The sharp stinging blows of the whip made the front of her body feel like it was on fire, and her body responded beyond conscious control. The three rapid blows of the whip had kept her body writhing, and when they stopped she slowly regained control. She held one leg in front of the other, still struggling against the cuffs.
“Shouldn’t she be gagged?” a masculine voice asked.
“Maybe, if you’re worried about the neighbors, but that doesn’t bother us here. I like to see and hear all of her responses, which is why I like this position. With her arms stretched out to the side, the front of her body is exposed and she can’t turn away. The ass is okay for a paddle, but the whip is best on the front of her body, where it’s extremely erotic. The whip hurts, which makes her writhe and scream, but it’s also sexual when it kisses her tits and belly.” He pushed the handle of the whip between Nancy’s legs, rubbed it over her labia, and then held it up for everyone to see. “See. The slut is already wet down there.” He teased Nancy’s nipples with the wet whip handle and she felt them come erect against her will.
“The stripes are coming up just the way we want them,” he said, stroking the emerging stripe on Nancy’s stomach. “Bright pink, not red or purple. The front of her body between knees and shoulders is our playground.”
Nancy’s attention slowly shifted from the stinging pain of the whip to her humiliating position standing naked In front of a group of observers who seemed amused by her suffering. The ropes were not tight so, except when she was struggling against them, it felt as though she was voluntarily holding her arms out exposing herself to the whip and to the eyes of the observers.
With a feeling of relief, Nancy watched Master Lash carefully hang the dreaded whip back in its place on the white board, and then her stomach sank as he took the next, slightly shorter, whip from the board and returned to her side.
He stood to one side and swung the whip three times in rapid succession striking her breasts, stomach and thighs. Her body responded to the stinging pain of the whip beyond conscious control as she writhed, struggled against her cuffs, and whimpered trying to remember her resolve not to scream. When the whipping stopped she slowly regained control of her body.
“You are beautiful,” Master Lash said, walking behind her, embracing her body and gently stroking her skin. “The whip is the spice that enhances your emotions. Everything is more intense and more erotic. I can see that your body responds to it.” He slid his hand down over her stomach, found her clitoris and moved his fingers rhythmically over it. Against her will, her hips began to move in response. “It hurts, but you love it, you need it. Now you must say it. Say, ‘whip me again, Master.’” She couldn’t think. The front of her body was on fire and her hips were moving in response to the finger on her clitoris. She was surprised to hear herself saying, “Whip me again, Master.”
Master Lash hung the whip on the board and returned with a slightly shorter whip, which gave him more control of just where it landed. Soon Nancy was twisting, writhing and squealing as the whip struck her stomach, breasts and thighs sending waves of stinging pain though her body. Her knees gave way and she hung by her wrists from the ropes until, after the whipping stopped, she finally managed to stand again on two feet.
Master Lash put the whip handle between Nancy’s knees, slowly slid it up the inside of her thighs and then slid it gently back and forth between her labia. “The whip can be sweet as well as bitter,” he said when her hips began to move in response. He dropped the whip and put his arms around her, holding her body tightly against his, and then he kissed her on the lips. He pushed his tongue deep into her mouth and felt her tongue respond. She moaned and pressed her hips against his. He pulled away, picked up the whip from the floor and held the wet handle against her lips.
“I see you’re beginning to like the whip,” he said. “Kiss it goodbye and I’ll get the next one.”
Master Lash continued the same pattern with each of the remaining three whips, delivering three devastating smacks to Nancy’s breasts, stomach and thighs and then teasing her sexually until he aroused an erotic response. At first Nancy was embarrassed to tears by having her body’s involuntary responses blatantly displayed to unknown observers, but by the third whip she had lost all awareness of the room around her. She was totally possessed by a complex amalgam of pain, helplessness, passion, humiliation, and other strong emotions that she couldn’t identify. Her attention was focused entirely on Master Lash and the menacing whip that he held in his hand.
Master Lash held a Hitachi Magic Wand up for the observers to see and then Nancy heard its purr and felt the soft vibrating head against her clitoris. Slowly the intense erotic sensations of the vibrator melded with her other strong emotions and she writhed and moaned, even more than before, with an intense orgasm. And then the vibrator was gone.
“The more frequently we combine passion with bondage, pain and humiliation the more closely these strong emotions become entwined until they are inseparable,” Master Lash explained to the observers. “So that’s about it. Each of our six whips has had its three bites and our vibrator as done its job. The slave will remain in position so you can examine the whip marks. I hope you appreciate my artistic arrangement from tits to cunt and beyond.” He bowed to a brief round of applause.
Several men came forward to trace the welts with their fingers. As Nancy stared at their crotches as required, she noticed pronounced bulges in all of their pants. “Why does it turn men on to watch a woman being tortured?” she wondered.
“Spread your legs, slut,” a man ordered, and Nancy moved her feet apart allowing him to push two fingers into her vagina, and then he held his hand up for others to see, and said, “The slut loves the whip. Look how wet my hand is.” He wiped his hand against Nancy’s burning breasts.
The men soon left, and a blond girl, wearing the ubiquitous white slave dress with wrists cuffed behind her back, came up and said, “You did very well. At the last party he had me screaming and begging him to stop, but that just encouraged him to continue. You’ll be fine, but it was two weeks before the last mark was gone.”
Master Arnold picked up Nancy’s dress from the floor, draped it over her head, fastened the Velcro strips at her waist, and then he opened the clips attaching the ropes to her cuffs. He put his arm around her shoulders as she seemed unsteady on her feet.
“I’ll help you to the toilet where you can compose yourself,” he said in a gentle voice.
“Could we just sit down a moment first, Sir?”
“Sure,” he said leading her to an empty couch against the wall. He sat down and she snuggled against his side. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. “That was hard, but you did very well. I’m proud of you,” he whispered
A short time ago Nancy would have done anything, promised anything that would have stopped the whipping, even for a short reprieve. But now she was glad that she had endured it, even though the welts were still throbbing. If it made her Master proud of her, it was worth the suffering. She put her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek, thankful that he had not fastened her cuffs behind her back, as seemed to be the custom at this party. “He loves me,” she thought to herself.
After a while he walked her to the toilet with his arm around her waist and said, “There’s ointment on the shelf for the whip marks. Take your time. I’ll be here when you come out.”