Could you pass the objectification test?
Image – Igor Amelkovich
The body will be assessed three times using a variety of distractions. During each test the trainer will take note that on no account does the body move, twitch, sigh, moan, or make any sign of life.
The trainer will use a rod to change the position of the body as required.
After each assessment the body will be flogged for between one and two minutes. The quantity of stokes and harshness of the whipping is at the trainer’s discretion. A generous flogging is customary for the successful completion of a task however if a failure has occurred, a more severe, exemplary punishment, such as a caning, is recommended.
The whipping or caning is a display designed mainly to entertain the gallery and is therefore not included in the judges’ final assessment. As a consequence, during this stage the body is allowed, and for aesthetic purposes, even encouraged, to exhibit emotions or emit certain sounds –crying, moaning, screaming – but under no circumstances should it utter recognizable words, speak or beg.”
He finished speaking and I heard whispers followed a rustling sound. Judging by the even tone of his voice he’d been reading from something. I wished I could see what was happening. They’d blindfolded me before they brought me here and made me kneel in front of them.
A bell rang out. Its long drawn out echo resonated high above me, it seemed to reach almost to the heavens. It receded and the whispering voices all faded into silence.
There were three sharp loud bangs, like a stick or rod hitting a hard stone floor. The room had such an echo-y cavernous sound it made even the quietest of noises sound harsh and threatening and each blow sounded more thunderous and menacing than the last.
“The first test will now commence.”
The bell rang again. All of a sudden I felt scared but also really excited. Just the idea of being whipped in public was turning me on and I could feel my pussy quivering in anticipation.
Mind you, the threat of a rod or cane was a little alarming. A flogging was one thing. But a caning? I’d never really been caned before. That was something that still frightened me. My ex boyfriend Jay – the one with the collection of whips –tried using one on me a few times but we pretty soon found my limits were set around a dozen strokes and no more. After that it would start to really hurt and I’d start getting hysterical and have to use my safe word. Plus, to be honest, I don’t really like the marks it leaves. A warm recently spanked and burgundy tinted bottom is always pleasing to the eye but cane scars just don’t do it for me. Still, that’s just my opinion. After all, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, is it not?
So anyway, that was the choice; a caning as a punishment or a whipping as a reward.
Wow. I was going to have to stay alert.
I tensed, expecting a blow. Any second now.
God, the tension. When? C’mon. Hurry up, dammit.
And where was that first blow fall going to fall? My ass? My pussy? My breasts? I felt so wonderfully and utterly naked.
And yes, so very fucking alive!
I loved these moments. The expectation. The anticipation. Each second full of infinite possibilities. Surrendering to the sheer certainty of what was about to follow.
Call it what you will. For me it’s freedom. Loss of ego. Freedom from myself. It’s a kind of atonement. But atonement doesn’t have to mean a guilt thing, like penance. It also means being “at one”. In a religious sense, being at one with God. That’s how I feel in these moments. Totally relaxed and “at one” with the universe. Just as if I were in the arms of a lover. A lover that could never do me harm and only wanted the best for me. A true lover. My true Master was the universe itself and I was just a tiny insignificant atom. A slave to Her/His desire. Slave to it and yet part of it.
Yeah I know what you’re thinking. She’s as high as a kite. The bastards have put something in the water and the poor girl is drugged up to the eyeballs.
Well, consciousness takes many forms, doesn’t it? But maybe those moments when everything “makes sense” and we feel like we really “fit in” are the realest, most intense and highest kinds of consciousness – and by the way nearly all religions agree there must be some kind of loss of ego involved to get it. And maybe this is the way we are really meant to be. No filters. No Bullshit. Just experiencing NOW.
Anyway, despite all this, though probably because of it, I also felt incredibly sexually turned on. I was alive. I had a body. It was beautiful. My breasts and my cunt were naked and ripe just as the universe, my Master, God or whatever you want to call it, had intended them to be. I felt the life roaring through me and I knew with absolute joyful certainty that this too short life was the most beautiful precious gift.
Suddenly, a tap on my belly. Just a tap. But it shocked me and I stiffened. Some kind of stick. A rounded end? Like a long drum stick? It hit me again. Ow! Fuck. That hurt. And another. Shit, it stings. But I clenched my fists behind my back, held my breath and stayed absolutely motionless.
Here we go. It’s happening. Remember the cane. I do not want to be caned. Please, body. Please obey me. Don’t move.
The stick pressed under my chin. It tapped, once, twice, paused a moment and then continued, the taps becoming increasingly more urgent and painful. It soon started to burn. It was close to my throat. Too close. I tried not to cough. It fucking hurt and I raised my head.
The tapping stopped.
I understand. Of course. Any part of my body it taps on I have to move. But only that part.
It pressed against my right cheek. Two taps. I turned my face to the right.
Now a tap on the other cheek. I turned to the left.
Yes. Got it.
It was between my thighs now beating a rapid and steady rhythm. I parted my legs wide but it still continued. It started to burn. It was already nearly too much. I wouldn’t be able to help it; I’d automatically flinch if it continued like this.
I shifted my legs. As wide as I could. My thighs were now at a full 90 degree right angle. I couldn’t get them any wider. My pussy was totally exposed. Wide open. Like a doorway.
The rod stopped and quickly found its way to my clit. It pressed against the bud. It stayed like that a few moments and then started a gentle circular rubbing motion. Hmmm. Oh yes. Pleasure. A reward? Thank you.
OK I understand. Pain is the method. The rod is its instrument. I am the material.
Obey and be rewarded.
That’s nice. That’s good. I actually started to relax. There are rules. I just need to obey.
But then out of the blue it hit me really hard. Fuck! Right on my clit That hurt. Fuckfuckfuck….. The pain seemed to resonate up through my pussy and even out into my thighs. Even my butthole hurt. I clenched my fists and kept my head down. Wow. From kindness to cruelty in a matter of seconds.
Ow! More blows. Goddam. Coming from underneath me. On my pussy and butthole. Fuckfuckfuck Don’t flinch,girl. Stay still. Remember there’s a reward. I was dying to close my legs and somehow stop the pain.. The blows were going upwards. Right into me. I could feel the pain shooting right into my ass.
Did the rod want me to raise myself up? OK I shifted up a little. More stinging taps. Harder. Ow! What the f…?
It continued regardless. Why? Agony. Sheer fucking agony. Why? Why? Why? No! Stop. Please. But I did as you told me!
Wait. Think. The blows are coming from above now in a downward direction. Over and on to my pussy. It wants me down. OK. I lowered myself a little. An inch maybe. No more.
It stopped. Oh thank you, thank you!
I was kneeling up straight with my legs apart and my pussy thrust out in front of me.
I felt like a statuette. Something being sculpted. The rod was the chisel and it was sculpting me into the form it desired.
Sculpted by pain. Wow.
I was buzzing from all the adrenaline. I really wanted to be as malleable and as submissive as they wanted. And paradoxically, this was exactly what made me feel so strong and horny and beautiful and wild and free.
Deep down I knew I needed to be tamed. Sometimes I’m just too wild. One day I’ll tell you the stories. I need this. Believe me.
And I desire it. And I love the feeling of desiring it. Needing it. Hungering for it.
Yes. Come on. More. Tame me. Discipline me. I want this. I want the rod now. I will obey. But not out of fear. Not fear but fire. The fire makes me beautiful. Makes me stronger. Makes me free.
Makes me me.
Image – China Hamilton
The rod slowly traced a line from my pussy and up my belly. It circled each of my breasts. It lingered on each one, mapping it, surveying it, assessing its tenderness as if weighing the value of each square inch of soft silky flesh.
It came to rest under my right breast. It raised it gently, supporting it from underneath. It was like a cat with its prey. Teasing me. Prolonging the anticipation. The blows would come sure enough. But when?
It was removed and the breast flopped down. The rod then moved up onto the nipple and pressed into it with the rounded tip. The nipple was already erect, hard, rubicund. It tapped on it tenderly, almost lovingly. What an attentive lover it was. And what delicious agony it soon would wreak upon my naked flesh.
Three blows fell. Perfectly targeted at the tip of my right nipple. I almost gasped but kept my mouth shut. My lips pressed tightly together. I was breathing hard through my nose. It was the only sound I could hear.
Ouch. Another. It was like being bitten. But I liked that. A lot. Bite my nipples hard enough and I will be your slave forever.
Three more taps. Just as hard. Just as rapid.
Oh my cruel lover why do you torture me so? What do you desire of me? How may I please you?
I moved my shoulders back raising my breasts slightly.
Does this please you, sir?
The rod changed position and started to stroke the inside of my upper arm. It was caressing me. So gentle. I was a good girl now. It was pleased with me. Three more taps on the outside of my arm, just above the elbow. As hard as before. But invigorating now. I was as hard and as impassive as rock. I loved it. No pain now. None. This was fun.
I loved the strange cruelty of it – communicating with me only by beating on my bare skin. I felt my blood racing and my tremulous pussy quivering in pleasure. My Cunt. Yes. Inside me there. Would the rod enter me there? Oh God yes please. I wanted to feel its blunt rounded tip inside me. Poking me. Rubbing against my clit. I’d cum and cum for sure.
It tapped on my forearms and I extended my arms above my head. Straight up. Palms raised. My fingers pointing heavenwards. My body was at full stretch now. My bare skin taught and tight. Reaching up. All the way. As high as I could go.
The tapping ceased and there was no more. This was my position now. I must keep it no matter what.
I’ll admit it wasn’t the most comfortable of positions but I felt so fucking horny I didn’t care. I actually felt like they’d turned me into some kind of work of art and I was buzzing so much the pain seemed dull and far away. A small price to pay for something so undeniably beautiful..
And I really did feel absolutely turned on. I was cooking. Massively horny. I’m sure my pussy must have been dripping. I badly needed it filled with cock. Or something. Anything. And soon. I really wanted to be fucked like this. In this position. Like a doll. Without moving an inch. Fucked by all of them. How many were there? I didn’t care. Bring them on.
I’ve always been an exhibitionist but this had gone way past any of my wildest fantasies. My pussy, my succulent breasts, my fleshy spankable ass, so naked and so exposed, and so expertly displayed for their gratification.
And intended now for what cruel pleasures?
But I didn’t have any more time to think as suddenly something hard and hot was placed on my back between my shoulders.
No. Wait. It wasn’t hot at all. It was cold. Freezing cold.
I steeled myself once again and held my breath. My old boyfriend Jay used to love doing this to me.
The ice traced a slow path over my shoulders and on to my breasts. At the same time something was dripping onto my back. There was a another one. A steady trickle of ice cold water ran onto my nipples. Another ice cube slithered across my belly. There were many now. Four, five, six? They came and went. I couldn’t keep up with them. They were like freezing cold insects crawling all over me. Moving in all directions. All at once. Cold and wet. Another slid over my ass and found my butthole and pushed against it. It tickled like fuck and I wanted to laugh.
Now something hard is pushed in to my cunt. It is burning cold. No. Not cold at all. Not ice. Damn. I have no idea what it is. It’s big and hard and it’s being pushed up all the way into my pussy. It’s being levered up somehow. I can feel pressure on my clit. Oh my God I’m going to cum. I grit my teeth and try not too moan and stay as absolutely still as I can. It’s big and it hurts. But it hurts so good. So fucking good. I’m going to cum. I’m going to cum and there’s nothing I can do.
A hand slapped my ass and fingers grip my buttocks and pull the cheeks apart to expose my butthole. A finger enters it and greases the rim of the hole. Oh God something’s being inserted. Oh God yes. Ohgodohgodohgod… fuck yes yes yes… Do that and I will cum for sure. They are pushing it all the way. Fuck, I want to cum. Please god let me cum. Say I can cum please sir… Waves of pressure. Waves of pleasure. Wave after wave… I’m going to cum dammit I’m going to cum… please… I’m begging you … cum… I need… to… cum… please…
Trembling. My sex in convulsion. On the very tip…
The torment has revealed itself.
No more stimulation or distraction. No need for it. Just the pressure of that thing in my ass.
And my pussy full to burst, quivering, tingling, charged, electric…
Ecstasy beckons. It’s pleading with me. Imploring me.
Just a touch more. Just a little touch…
If I move just a little bit I’ll cum.
If I move I’ll cum.
If I move…
Do you have any fucking idea how much I want to move right now?
To be continued