|Twelve Days a Slave|
|by The Technician|
|Technician666@Gmail.Com | Forum Feedback
Published eBooks by Wayne Mitchell (aka The Technician): The Perfect Sex Toy | Senior Project | Handcuff Island | I, Masochist | UMPA Eleven
|© Copyright 2016 - The Technician - Used by permission|
|Storycodes: M+/fm+; cell; cage; cuffs; collar; naked; display; public; hum; stage; slaves; punish; bdsm; machine; paddle; flogger; cane; torment; climax; cons/reluct; XX||
WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life. If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century. Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2016 by The Technician (Technician666@Gmail.Com)
|Twelve Days a Slave 6: Madison Robotic Discipline System The Technician M+/fm+; cell; cage; cuffs; collar; naked; display; public; hum; stage; slaves; punish; bdsm; machine; paddle; flogger; cane; torment; climax; cons/reluct; XX|
|story continues from part five
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Slave missy is caned by a robot.
This is the story of a young woman’s conviction as a terrorist and what happens to her when she is sentenced to penal slavery. Penal slavery is not impossible. The Thirteenth and Fourteenth Amendments to the Constitution of the United States of America do not NOT prohibit slavery. They only LIMIT slavery to punishment for crimes. In other words, the Constitution allows penal slavery.
After the woman is convicted, a “sentence negotiator” gets her sentence reduced to a public day of repentance followed by eleven days of public punishment. Following that, she is to serve one year of penal servitude.
This story deals with non-consensual punishment, pain, and involuntary slavery. If such topics offend you or upset you, I would advise skipping this particular book.
There are thirteen chapters to this story. The chapters can be read on their own, but the story is much better understood if the previous portions have been read. The complete story is full book length. I debated publishing it with some of my other books at Fiction4all, but decided that I would rather serialize it and post it here.
In this chapter, on this day of punishment, she is caned... by a robot, or more accurately, by a computer-driven mechanical spanking machine. Before her caning, James Madison demonstrates his company’s machines. This chapter focuses on mechanical flogging, paddling, and caning. It also delves into self-bondage and pain-pleasure.
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Chapter Six - Slave missy experiences a top-of-the-line Madison Robotic Discipline System
William and slave missy’s morning routine was quickly becoming automatic. William was evidently an early riser. He would get up, shower, and go up front to the kitchen area where he would watch early morning television and catch up on the news on various sites on his computer. Somewhere around 7:00 he would start fixing breakfast. The smell of coffee and bacon was missy’s alarm clock and she would come padding out to the kitchen carrying her towel, which she placed beneath her always naked ass when she sat on the bench seat on one side of the table.
After breakfast, she nervously said to William, “I have a couple of questions.”
He looked up at her from his plate of eggs and said, “Shoot.’
“You said I was going to be punished by a machine today,” she began. “What is it going to do to me?”
He held his fork in the air as he thought for several seconds and then spoke slowly, “Do you really want to know in advance?”
“Yes,” she said firmly.
“OK,” he answered. “The sponsor for today is The Madison Robotic Discipline System. Basically they are mechanical spanking machines. They can spank with everything from single whips to canes to heavy paddles. You are going to be caned.”
“Forty-six times,” she said fearfully. “I won’t survive it.” Her eyes were starting to tear up.
“That is where you have to trust me,” he said, setting down his fork and looking missy intently in the eyes. “The Madison RDS is computer-controlled. They can be programed for number of strokes, time between, even duration– how long the stroke is held firm against the skin when it strikes. But most importantly they can be very accurately adjusted for the intensity of the stroke.”
He struck the back of his hand lightly with his finger imitating the stroke of a cane. “If a cane strike is too light,” he said, “it doesn’t leave the proper welt.” He hit his hand again, this time much harder, “If the stroke is too hard, it breaks the skin. Some people think you have to do that to add to the severity of the punishment.” He once again hit the back of his hand with his finger and said, “But if the stroke is just right, you will raise a welt without breaking the skin.”
He softly struck the back of his hand with his finger as he said, “The sign of an expert canemaster is that they can deliver a very large number of blows, raising a proper welt each time... without breaking the skin. I have convinced Madison that the perfect display of his product would be for it to cane you all forty-six times without breaking the skin.
“He is so concerned about a proper display, that he agreed to turn back the intensity to the lightest level which will raise a welt. It doesn’t have to be a large welt because there will be forty-six of them.”
He reached across the table to softly place his hand on top of missy’s. “I won’t lie to you,” he said. “It is going to hurt. It is going to hurt like hell. But you will not be harmed. Your body will not be damaged. Remember what I told you last night about going into the pain?”
Missy silently nodded her head.
“If you trust me that your body in not in danger,” he continued, “... if you trust me that in this case hurt does not equal harm, then you can open yourself up to the pain. That is very hard for most people to do, but once you do it, you can change the pain. You can even make it pleasure.”
He stroked the back of her hand very softly, “Being able to go into the pain can also be dangerous. Pleasure pain can be very intense because the body is releasing endorphins and all sorts of other crap to help it handle the pain. They are like a narcotic in the brain that not only lessens the pain, it magnifies the pleasure. But because endorphins are a narcotic, pleasure pain, itself, can be addictive. Those who are addicted to it are uncontrollable painsluts. They will do anything for the pain that brings them narcotic pleasure and they end up trusting the wrong people or they end up harming themselves.”
He paused for a moment before asking, “Do you understand what I am telling you?”
“Yes,” missy said, taking a very deep breath. “You are giving me a powerful medicine, but warning me that I can easily become addicted to it.”
William nodded his head in response.
“But right now I NEED that medicine,” she continued. “And if I become addicted, I have someone I can trust who will not harm me even if he has to hurt me.”
She smiled weakly at William and said, “I’m ready.”
“Then let’s get you oiled up for the parade lap through town,” he replied.
It was actually about a half-hour before the dishes were done and missy had made her second morning stop in the bathroom. Their preparations to leave were also becoming automatic. Missy would grease down her body with the baby oil and baby gel while William backed the ATV and trailers out of the main trailer. He would then oil her back and put on her chains. After that, she would get into the cage and William would drive the ATV into town, once around the square, and then back out the fairgrounds.
People in town knew they would be coming and many were at the curb with cellphones or cameras. Now that missy was protected within the outer cage and inner protective tube, most of the youth had lost interest in throwing eggs or garbage at her. One or two high-school-aged boys evidently did not realize that there was a protective circle at the top of the cage and tried lobbing eggs in a high arc so that they would land inside the protective tube. Missy smiled at their disappointment as the eggs smashed on the upper protective screens and then puddled on the Lexan circle above her head.
It was a little after nine when William pulled the ATV onto the stage and the crew attached the cable so they could raise the cage into the air above the stage. Missy had become used to her perch high above the stage and calmly watched the stage crew set up four smaller stages just in front of the main stage.
Once the smaller stages were set up, men dressed in blue polo shirts with “Madison” written in yellow letters across the back carried out four different machines and set one on each of the stages. They then carried a slightly larger version of one of the machines onto the main stage. Along with the machine, they also set up a very elaborate-looking restraint frame that seemed to be oddly-shaped. It appeared to be too narrow and had wide leather straps across it horizontally at several points. The straps made it look almost like a strangely-shaped ladder.
As she had done the day before, missy leaned back against the back bars of the stage and braced her feet against the bottom of the front bars. She then slowly masturbated herself until she reached a pleasant plateau of pleasure. Staring dreamily out at the crowd as it began to gather, she said– not quite loud enough to be heard– “There is a certain freedom in slavery. I don’t have to care what you think about me. I’m a slave. I’m outside your world. I’m outside your thoughts. If this helps me get through today, then I’ll do it.” She fell silent for a moment, and then added, “... unless my Master tells me I can’t.” She sighed and finished her soliloquy with, “I’m a slave. The only rules are my Master’s rules.” After that she closed her eyes and entered into her own private dream world while she awaited the day’s punishment.
A very well-dressed mid-40s gentleman walked out onto the stage to join him as he said, “Let me introduce to you, Mister James Madison, founder, owner, and CEO of Madison Devices, Incorporated.
“Thank you, Mister Wilson,” the man said as he raised his microphone to his mouth. “We are pleased for this opportunity to demonstrate some of our devices today. We are especially pleased to be able to show the crown jewel of our collection, The Madison Robotic Discipline System.”
Gesturing down to the smaller platforms in front of the stage, he said, “We will start with one of our less-expensive devices. This is The Madison Arm Action Whip. What makes it unique in the industry is that it accurately mimics the motion of a human arm as the flogger swings.”
He looked off stage for a moment. When he could clearly see two Madison security men walking onto the track with a naked slave between them, he turned back to the crowd and said, “One of our production slaves is in need of punishment and will be our test subject for the Arm Action Whip.”
He turned to William and said, “Because this is a flogging, and I own the machine, this actually qualifies under public two-for-one flogging law. So this slave, who should receive twenty lashes, will only receive ten.”
Turning back to the crowd, he smiled and said, “But keep in mind, that his ten lashes that will be delivered perfectly.”
The slave was brought up onto the first platform and restrained to a tall pole. Unlike the floggings of previous days, he was not tied between two poles, but rather suspended nearly off his feet in front of a single pole.
The machine was directly behind him, but as it began to move, it was obvious that its mechanical arms could reach far out on either side to deliver the blows. The machine itself was nearly silent, but it was flipping the whip back and forth so rapidly that there was an angry hum in the air.
The slave pulled against the chain, but he was kept centered by the restraints on the floor which held his feet in place. It was almost not possible to see the final action of the mechanical arm as it delivered the first lash with the flogger.
It truly was as if an expert whipmaster was flogging the slave. The strands landed so that the tips were curled slightly back. This caused them to snap sharply against the skin immediately after the main portion of the leather strip struck the skin.
The slave grunted deeply as he attempted to keep from screaming.
Then the second lash landed. The first had been at a 45 degree angle across his back so that the tips hit high near his left shoulder. The second was also at 45 degrees, but the tips hit high near his right shoulder. He screamed loudly as a large red “X” suddenly appeared on his back.
The next blow was directly across his back at shoulder level. The one following that directly on his ass cheeks. The fifth blow was again straight across, but was just above the small of his back.
“Notice,” Mister Madison said from the stage, “that none of the blows are over the kidneys. A kidney blow is forbidden by law, but in a manual flogging it sometimes happens by accident. That can cause internal damage and not only put a slave out of commission for a significant time, it can cause you to run afoul of the slave protection regulations. ... You could even lose possession of your slave.”
He made a hand motion and one of the Madison guards, restarted the machine. The next five strokes were delivered rapidly in exactly the same place as the first five. It was obvious that James Madison’s primary purpose was to demonstrate his machines, not punish his slaves.
“I now call your attention to the device on the second platform.” Two security women now escorted a female slave to that platform. “This is an even more economical product which uses a thin, single strand whip.” He again turned to address William and said, “The action is purely mechanical, but because the whip is made of leather, is flexible, and is over nine inches long, it qualifies as a flogger under the two-for-one laws. This young slave was sentenced to ten lashes, but has volunteered to be here for public punishment, so she will receive only five.”
The security women had already restrained the young slave between two upright poles. The mechanism was behind her on her left side. James gave a signal from the stage and one of the security women started the machine.
Its operation was extremely simple. A long metal arm was slowly drawn back, tightening a spring mechanism. When the arm was pulled back sufficiently it was released and slammed forward. The arm slammed against a stop and the whip, which was swinging in a wide arc with the arm, swept forward and struck the slave in the ass.
A bright red stripe immediately appeared across both of the slave’s ass cheeks and a shrill, loud, cry carried out over the arena. The machine again drew the arm back and again it snapped forward against the stop. The slave screamed again as the whip struck almost exactly in the same place as the first strike.
When the machine finally stopped, there was a single, deep welt across the slave’s ass. The welt seemed to be seeping blood.
“As you can see,” Mister Masters said, “this is a very limited machine. You can adjust the height of the strike, but that involves turning the mechanism off and moving mechanical parts.
He smiled out at the audience and said, “We sell very few of these, and I wouldn’t normally have demonstrated it today. But two of our competitors have something very similar to this as their top of the line product.” His smile broadened as he said, “Go out to their websites and compare their machines against ours. They are almost identical... except for the price. For very little more than what you would pay for their very limited machines, you could own one of Madison’s programable devices.”
Stepping over so that he stood in front of the third platform he said loudly, “Speaking of programable devices. This is The Madison Programable Punishment Platform. The one on this platform is set up for a caning.” Pointing at the last platform he said, “The one on the last platform is set up for a wooden paddle.”
Two security men brought a naked female slave out from behind the stage. “This slave,” explained Mister Madison, “has been sentenced to ‘three of the best’ as they used to say in the old English boarding schools.”
The guards began to strap the young woman onto what appeared to be a spanking bench on the platform. There was a low portion of the platform on which she was forced to kneel. The kneeler was about 18" wide so with her feet sticking down at the back, her knees were still on the pad. There were two wide restraints built into the kneeler, which the security men strapped tightly around the slave’s calves. They then pushed her upper body down on a higher pad which was waist high to her as she knelt. This pad was also about 18" wide and supported the upper portion of her body. Most of her abdomen was left unsupported. Again there was a wide restraint built into the pad which they pulled tight across her upper back, crushing her breasts against the pad.
The final restraint was a wooden bar which was supported by two poles which seemed to be connected to the upper pad. The guards stretched out the slave’s hands and placed them in two half circles cut into the bar. They then set another wooden beam in place. It also had two half circles so that it effectively locked her wrists in place.
After they had tested the restraints to make sure they were tight, one of the men cranked a handle on the side of the bench and the upper pad, as well as the stock-like bar holding the slave’s hands, rotated downward so that her head was almost even with her knees.
One of the guards then stood behind the machine and began setting controls on a computer screen. As soon as he began, a video projector came to life on stage displaying a large image on the back wall of the stage.
Mister Madison explained to the crowd, “This is a clone image of the control screen. Notice that the operator has selected caning and set the intensity at medium. The initial strike is set to the center of the ass. The physical spacing is set at two centimeters. The timing is set to fifteen seconds. And the number of strokes is set to three.
The slave screamed, and thrashed slightly in her restraints, but she was bound so securely that her body barely moved. The one exception was her head, which snapped up so that she was looking at the stage as she screamed.
Exactly fifteen seconds later, the cane again slammed into the slave’s ass. Her reaction was the same as on the first strike. James pointed his laser pointer at the image and spun it in a small circle between the two red welts which were now visible on the slave’s ass cheeks. “Exactly two centimeters between the stripes,” he said quickly.
The third strike came exactly fifteen seconds after the second. And once again it was exactly two centimeters from the previous strike.
The two security men cranked the bench back up to level and removed the stocks and restraints which held the slave in place. They then supported her as she walked painfully back behind the stage. The last image of her striped ass remained projected on the stage wall.
“This device,” said Mister Madison, “is the most precise punishment device on the market. It will deliver the exact number of strokes at the exact timing in the exact place that you specify. It is the most economical way to properly punish a slave.”
Another security man took something from the edge of the device and handed it to James on stage. He held it up and said, “And it prints out a log saying exactly what was done and when it was done. It also provides this log in digital format so all you have to do is paste it into your monthly slave compliance reports to the Department of Slave Welfare and Protection.”
Putting the slip of paper in his pocket and looking up at the crowd he said, “Not everyone owns slaves or needs to punish a slave.” He made some sort of signal to a security man who hurried back stage.
“But there are some people who derive pleasure from what other people consider to be punishment,” he continued. “The fully automatic version of our Programable Punishment Platform can be used not only to punish a wayward slave, but also for self-bondage pain sessions.”
He lowered his microphone and looked stage right. The eyes of the crowd followed him as a woman wearing a full face hood walked out from behind the stage. She was wearing nothing else.
“This woman is not a slave.” James said. “Her face is concealed to protect her identity, and I won’t tell you her name. But I will tell you that I promised to give her this machine if she would publicly demonstrate its full potential for us this afternoon.”
The naked woman walked across the area in front of the stage and stepped up onto the fourth platform. She stood in front of the control panel for a moment setting the machine. As soon as she began entering settings, the clone of the control screen appeared on stage.
James Masters pointed his laser pointer at the screen and said, “You can see that she has selected twenty-five strokes– ouch!– and has set the repeat rate at random... that means she will not know when the next blow with strike. She has also set the intensity to intermediate. That would be a seven in a scale of one to ten. The settings above that are Harsh, Severe, and Extreme.”
The woman knelt on the low pad of the spanking bench. She twisted her body slightly so she could attach restraint belts over her own calves. Then she grabbed the wide belt and pulled it around her back as she lay her upper body over the upper pad. As she lay down, she reached to her side and clicked it into place alongside her. The last thing she did was to stretch out her arms and place her wrists in the two half circles on the bar.
The machine began to hum slightly and another bar was brought over the first so the woman’s hands were trapped in the stocks. The wide belt around her upper body tightened automatically. Then the upper pad and the bar rotated automatically so that her body was bent downward. The effect was that same as if she had thrust her ass upward in preparation for punishment.
A second video projector came to life on stage as the image from the first projector changed. “The image on your left,” explained Mister Madison, “shows this woman’s ass. As before, you will be able to clearly see her cheeks become redder and redder as the paddle strikes.
“The image on your right,” he said, “shows a slightly different portion of her anatomy.” The camera appeared to be mounted in the kneeler and was pointed up between her legs. Her pussy lips were clearly visible in the image. They were already moist.
“Remember this woman is seeking pleasure pain.” he said. “As proof that this device delivers what she is seeking, you will also be able to clearly see how her sex becomes wetter and wetter as the paddle strikes.” After a short chuckled he added, “If this works as well as she hopes, you may also have a close up view of a cunt during orgasm.”
A loud “Smack!” drew everyone’s attention to the platform. The device had started the punishment cycle.
Missy heard the woman’s scream. It didn’t sound all that different than the slave who had been caned. She could clearly see the device as the arm slowly moved back cycling for another blow. And she could see something else. She could see that the masked woman’s body wasn’t tensed waiting a second blow. It was relaxed.
The woman’s head was still thrown back so that she was looking upward at the stage. Missy, from her vantage point high above the stage, could clearly see the dark eyes behind the mask. She seemed to be looking for something... waiting for something. She wasn’t dreading the next swat of the paddle, she was waiting openly for it.
“She’s going into the pain,” missy said aloud.
The paddle suddenly struck again with a loud “Thwack!”
The woman again screamed. This time it wasn’t quite as loud as the time before. Missy turned in her cage so she could see the projected images. The woman’s ass bore two large, deep red marks where the paddle had struck.
She looked at the second image. The woman’s cunt lips were still moist, but obviously there was no new fluid.
Another red stripe appeared across the woman’s ass. She again screamed, but this time the scream as not quite as intense.
Another red stripe and another scream. Again the scream was slightly less intense.
A new red stripe, but this time there was no scream. Instead there was a soft grunt as the woman absorbed the pain.
For the next several smacks, the woman responded with just a grunt.
This time it was more of a sigh than a grunt. Missy again checked the images on the wall. In the one image it was clear that the woman’s ass was now almost completely red and the paddle struck on a slightly different point with each swing. In the other image, it was equally clear that there was now moisture seeping from the masked woman’s cunt.
The sigh was now more of a moan.
The sigh had definitely changed into a moan.
The moan was starting to get louder.
The moan lasted a little longer with each strike
The moan was now a continuous low-pitched wail that carried throughout the arena.
Missy watched the huge projected image as fluid seemed to pour from the woman’s pussy lips.
The bound woman was now thrashing... no grinding... in her restraints. Her cunt was beginning to twitch. It was as if the pussy lips were clenching themselves at each strike and then relaxing to release a new flood of fluids.
The count, which was superimposed on the close up of the woman’s ever-reddening ass, now said nineteen.
The woman’s moan was now broken up by sharp intakes of breath. She was crying out, “Ahhh... Ahhh... Ahhh... Ahhh...” which changed to “AHHH!!!” each time the paddle slammed into her ass.
The woman’s chant was now becoming higher pitched.
Fluid was dripping from the masked woman’s cunt.
Sweat was now also dripping from the woman’s body.
Her chant now changed back to a continuous moan that seemed to warble slowly up and down in pitch.
Her pussy was now twitching in time to the changes in her moan, which also corresponded to the grinding thrusts of her body.
The woman’s body was starting to vibrate.
Her voice now began rising in pitch and volume.
A long, loud, guttural scream echoed through the stands as the woman orgasmed. Her body was thrashing wildly. The lens of the camera was smeared with fluids which had dropped on it, but it was still possible to see the woman’s cunt opening and closing in the intense orgasm.
Missy looked back at the other image. The woman’s ass was swollen and starting to turn purple. The number displayed in the corner of the screen said, “25.”
“She knew exactly how much she needed to get off,” missy said. “She went into the pain and turned it into pleasure, and in twenty-five strokes it took her to orgasm.”
William’s voice interrupted her as he stepped back out onto the stage and said loudly, “Thank you very much James Madison for demonstrating these marvelous devices.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied, and then added– speaking to the audience, “Remember all of these devices can be ordered by phone or from our website.”
Missy could now feel her cage being slowly lowered to the floor. While she was descending, she could see several stage hands, assisted by people in Madison shirts, pulling the large machine onto the stage.
“This is the ultimate in fully-automated Programable Punishment Platforms, Mister Madison said loudly.
“And this afternoon,” William continued, “our repentant terrorist will help demonstrate this device as it delivers forty-six precise cuts of the cane to her naked body.”
The audience screamed and yelled their approval.
As soon as her cage settled onto the stage, William unlocked the massive padlock and opened the door. Missy dutifully stepped out and stood docilely while he removed her chains. She then walked with him over to the ladder-shaped restraints.
William pointed with his hand and she stepped up to face the frame. As she stepped into place, she noted that there was a large circular base to the frame. Standing this close to the frame, she could see that the pieces of leather were actually two pieces and that there appeared to be a small, rachet device on each end of the leather band.
William reached up and released one of the leather bands... or more accurately one-half of one of the leather bands. He then pushed her abdomen against the band and pulled the second half of the band around behind her back before reattaching it. He wiggled the ratchet on one side of the band and the belt against her tummy tightened. When he used the ratchet on the other side of the band, the section around her back tightened. She was now held firmly in place between the two bands.
There was a band just above her knees, one at her ankles, one just below her head, and one a foot or so above her head. William started with the lowest band and secured her feet. After her knees were held in place, he told her to raise her arms straight up into the air. She did so. The upper band, in addition to the ratchets, also had two thick belt-like pieces of leather which went through slots on both halves of the band and could be tightened individually like wrist restraints to keep her from pulling her arms out of the taut band.
The last band put in place was the one just beneath her head. This band was also different from the others in that it was heavily padded. William seemed to be very careful as he put this band in place. Then, to missy’s surprise, he snugged it up, but did not tighten it.
“This one is mainly to protect your neck in case something goes wrong.” He patted the belt around her middle and said, “And this one will protect your kidneys.”
He then patted her ass and said, “But don’t worry. Remember what I told you.” His voice suddenly got very serious as he said, “And if it looks like anything at all is going wrong, I have an abort switch that will stop the machine. Trust me, this will hurt you, but it will not harm you.”
He patted her ass once more and then stepped back alongside Mister Madison.
William roared out, “Are you ready?”
Missy was somewhat confused by the question, but before she could answer, the audience roared back, “Yes!” He wasn’t asking her. He was asking the crowd.
She could feel a slight vibration in the floor of the stage and the motors in the device began to hum. There was also a light swishing noise as hydraulic cylinders moved the mechanism up and down to adjust the height of the stroke.
She tried to relax as she had seen the masked woman do as she was paddled. “I need to open myself to the pain,” she told herself. Then the first stroke of the cane hit squarely in the middle of her ass.
There wasn’t really all that much noise when it hit. The swish as the cane moved through the air was almost as loud as the crack as it hit her flesh. A moment later the pain boiled through her body.
There was a stripe of fire across her ass and that flame was exploding outward to every part of her body. She thrashed violently in her restraints– or at least she attempted to. With the wide bands holding her tight at five different places, the most she could do was wriggle like a worm on a hook.
“Oh God!” she screamed. “No, no, no, no, no. I can’t stand it! I can’t stand it!” Her voiced was ragged with the force of her scream. Her mind was frantic. If it hurt this much on the first stroke, how would she ever survive forty-six?
She could vaguely hear the hum of the machine as it drew back the cane for the next strike. She tensed her entire body and very tightly clenched her ass awaiting the next blow.
She heard the swish as the cane swept through the air, and then the snap as it hit her body. Everything seemed to be happening in very slow motion. She could feel the flame of the strike ignite across her ass cheeks about a hand’s width above the previous strike. Then everything snapped into high speed as the pain raced throughout her body.
“Aiiieeee,” she screamed. “I can’t stand it! Please, make it stop!” she begged. This stroke hurt more than the first one.
“Swish,” the cane moved through the air. “Snap!” it smacked against the flesh of her back. A half-second later, the pain surged through her body.
Her mind was in panic. She could hear the cheers of the crowd as she struggled in her bonds. But beneath the yells and jeers of the crowd, she could hear William’s voice. It wasn’t in her ears, it was deep within her mind. “I didn’t promise you it wouldn’t HURT you,” the voice said softly. “I promised you it wouldn’t HARM you. If you fight the pain it will get worse. If you go into the pain it will get better. You have to trust that I won’t allow you to be harmed. Go into the pain.”
“Swish. Snap!” The next stroke slammed into her back. Again it was about a hand width higher than the previous stroke. And again missy screamed out in misery while the crowd cheered and applauded.
But as the machine drew back for the next stroke, missy did the hardest thing she had ever done in her life. She relaxed. She stopped struggling. Her body seemed to be quivering on its own, but that was her muscles’ reaction to the pain. That wasn’t her struggling to escape.
“Swish. Snap!” the next stroke struck across her back almost at the shoulders. The pain again flashed across the length of the welt and then burned through her body, but it wasn’t quite as painful as the previous stroke.
Missy still screamed out, but it was more of a gurgling “uhhhhhh,” that came from deep within her. As her cry faded out, she once again relaxed her body. “Open yourself to the pain,” she told herself silently.
“Swish. Snap!” The cane was now moving back down her body. She couldn’t be sure, but it felt like this stripe was in the middle between the previous two strokes. As the pain flashed across the length of the stripe, it seemed to ignite pain in the welts on either side of it. But even the combined pain of the three welts did not equal the pain of the previous stroke.
“Oooooooooo” the crowd heard her scream loudly. Their cheers drowned out the ending of that scream as she said more softly “pen.” She closed her eyes to the sights around her. Within her mind, she was chanting “Open, open, open, open.” Then in the pause as the machine moved for the next stroke, she told herself, “It will hurt you but will not harm you.”
This time her response was a loud grunt. The crowd still stomped and cheered.
“Hurt but not harm...”
“Hurt but not harm...”
Missy’s eyes flew wide open, but not in pain... in surprise. The cane landing across her ass almost didn’t hurt. It didn’t feel good, but it didn’t hurt. And at the same time a strange, warm feeling was flooding her entire body... not a sexual warm, but a cozy, comfortable, warm place kind of warm.
The cane continued down her body. She again closed her eyes and concentrated on what she felt as the machine slammed the cane against her flesh. It was no longer really pain. It was just sensation.
Is it pleasure or pain? she mentally asked herself.
Lifting her head and opening her eyes, she said aloud, “I choose pleasure.”
The cane continued its relentless march up her body. She had no idea what the count was, but felt that it had to be above thirty. “Do I have time?” she asked herself.
It was definitely pleasure. It was a very intense, very strange kind of pleasure, but it was definitely pleasure.
Missy willed the intensity toward her clit.
The crowd now heard a loud, deep, moan coming from the stage.
Missy was once again writhing as much as her bonds would allow. Her moan was growing louder and more shrill.
Missy was starting to gasp and grunt with the strokes.
Missy could feel that pre-orgasm tingle that seemed to start in her toes and race upward through her body.
Missy’s entire body went totally stiff within the restraints. She threw her head back and screamed, “I love you, William!” And then she passed out.
In the silence which followed, Mister Madison said softly, “Forty-six.”
Missy was only vaguely aware of what was happening around her. The stage hands were attempting to push the heavy platform, which held the machine and her restraints, slightly forward on the stage.
She heard the familiar sound of the winch lowering the cable. “I guess it’s time to get back into my cage and hang around for an hour,” she said aloud to no one in particular.
But no one came to undo the restraints. Instead, one of the stage hands brought over a small ladder and used it to attach the cable to the top of the ladder-like restraint. There were a couple of loud clicks and then the restraint frame, and the large circle under it on which Missy stood, rose slowly into the air.
Missy could feel herself rotating slowing beneath the cable. As she rotated so that she could see out into the crowd, hundreds, if not thousands of flashes nearly blinded her. Some of the photographers were still standing in front of the stage taking pictures when the hour was up and she was once again lowered to the stage.
William drove up onto the stage with her cage and asked, “Do you think you can get in on your own?”
In response, missy walked very stiffly over to the trailer and stepped up into the cage. William didn’t bother to close the door as he drove slowly back to their bus.
Once there, he didn’t drive into the trailer, but instead stopped directly in front of the door to the large RV. Missy was crying softly as he helped her up the steps and led her back to her bedroom. Once he had her placed face down on her bed, he began to very gently rub the special healing ointment into her back, ass, and legs.
She winced as his fingers went over the 46 welts that striped her body. Once or twice she cried out in pain as his fingers touched a particularly nasty welt. Finally the salve began to do its work and she started to relax against the bed.
“Sleep for a while,” he said softly. “I’ll call you when I have supper ready.”
She looked up at him. “Please stay with me until I fall asleep,” she said. “I’m afraid.”
He took her hand and sat on the bed next to her until her eyes were closed and her breathing was deep and regular.
Missy awoke to William rubbing more ointment into her back and ass.
“Is supper ready yet?” she asked.
“Supper was ready two hours ago,” he replied. “And this is the fourth time that I have applied salve since you fell asleep.”
She raised herself up on her arms and looked at him in surprise.
“You were emotionally exhausted,” he said quietly. “I kept your supper warm for you. Come out to the kitchen when you’re ready.”
He then returned to the front part of the bus. Missy used the bathroom and then joined him in the kitchen. She remembered to bring her towel with her and set it on the bench seat before she sat down at the table.
After she had eaten, she seemed to stare at William for a long time. Finally he said, “Missy, you have my permission to speak or ask questions or whatever it is that you are so afraid to say.”
Missy looked down at the table. “I followed your advice today,” she said softly.
“And?” he asked.
“I went into the pain,” she answered. “It turned into pleasure... extreme pleasure.”
“I noticed,” he said with a short laugh. “Most of the crowd thought you were yelling out in pain there at the end, but I have come to know your pain cries and your pleasure cries. You had a very intense orgasm from the caning.”
“It scares me,” she said simply. “I liked it. I liked it too much. I’m afraid I might be a painslut.”
She reddened at her own words.
“What do you know about painsluts?” he asked.
“You have my browser history,” she replied. “You know what kind of sites I used to look at.” She shrugged, “I’ve heard the term. I’ve even seen some videos of painsluts.”
“What you’ve seen,” he said firmly, “is videos of women who were exploited for their addiction to pain. People who cared nothing about them, used them up... abused them... destroyed them... or allowed them to destroy themselves.”
“You are not addicted to pain... not yet,” he said. “And I will not allow you to become addicted. You are one of those people who can turn pain into pleasure.” He slammed the palm of his hand down on the table, “That does not mean that you are addicted to pain.”
“It does mean,” he said more softly, “that you may need more stringent guidance for your life than most people.”
“In other words,” she said, “I need a Master.”
“Right now,” he answered, “what you need is another coat of the healing ointment and a good night’s sleep. We have another performance tomorrow.”
Missy groaned slightly. “We always have another performance tomorrow,” she said in almost a whine. “For you, it’s a performance. For me it’s my life now.”
As William escorted her back to her bedroom, he said quietly, “Life is a performance.”
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END CHAPTER SIX OF THIRTEEN
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story continued in part seven
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