I’m the new attraction. One of the interactive exhibits. They’ve put me in a large booth about 7 or 8 feet square. It looks like a department store window. I could be a mannequin displaying dresses except that I’m completely naked and my wrists have been cuffed to a wooden crossbar above my head. I’ve been on display for barely a minute now and already a small group of passers-by have stopped to stare.
I’m in the atrium; the entrance to the main shopping, leisure and recreation areas. There are three levels, two of which are underground. I’m on the ground floor. It’s pretty busy. It’s mid afternoon and I’m right next to one of the stores. I can see shoppers coming and going with their bags.
The place is a lot bigger than I thought. There are restaurants, a casino and even a theater. The public games room is over on my left. The reception is opposite on the far side. There is another booth like this one there. I can’t see what’s happening in it though. There are too many people in the way.
I can see myself reflected in the window and I’m looking pretty good I think. I’ve just come from a grooming session with my keeper and I’ve had my hair done and my pussy is super smooth and silky soft. They even did my make-up.
The glass is reinforced so no one can get at me but my keeper told me the window has to be cleaned regularly as it gets smudgy from people pressing their hands – and other parts of their bodies – up against it. There is also a microphone above me so they can hear me scream.
The crossbar gives me very little freedom of movement. My legs have been restrained at the ankles. I can shift my hips and ass a little but once the machine up starts that won’t help much.
The machine is on my right. It’s on a kind of rail so it can slide in front or behind me. Its mechanical arm is raised in readiness, the long strip of leather hanging limply from the end of it.
In front of me there’s a long extendable pole pointing at my pussy. There’s a vibrator attached to the end of it. I’m hoping at some point someone will reward me with it. Although ideally they’d let me have it while the machine is still whipping me. I’d be way more turned on and they’d be far more likely to get their money’s worth.
The exhibit is totally interactive. For a price the public can decide which part of me they want to see whipped. And how many lashes I should get. There is a push-button display outside on the front of the booth. It looks a little like a cash machine and I know there are at least five options. Ass, back, breasts, pussy and cum. The price is the same for each option. Only cum is extra. The price goes up according to the number of lashes. I think it goes by tens; 10, 20, 30, 40 and so on. Up to a hundred. If I get a hundred the booth closes temporarily and I’m withdrawn for service and grooming. My keeper told me I also get a special reward but refused to tell me what it was. There are other options they can choose too but I haven’t been told what they are. My keeper said I didn’t need to worry about that for today.
Apparently attractions like this are really popular here. There are more booths in the games room too but I haven’t been in there yet. I think they are even more interactive. And probably way scarier.
I look up at my wrists and pull on the leather restraints. They are tight and sturdy. Part of me feels really turned on. I love being exhibited naked like this. But another part of me feels nervous and jittery. I am totally at the mercy of strangers and I know this is going to hurt. A lot. And I feel all wound up, heart beating, adrenaline pumping, like an athlete about to run a race or a football player moments before an important game.
Though I guess the best sporting analogy for this would probably be the marathon. And just like a marathon there’s a mental zone I’m gonna need to get into just to survive it and make it to the finishing line.
And believe it or not, apart from all that, I also want to look good while they’re punishing me.
Does that make any sense?
Image – Caprice / TheSpankingMachine.com
Roll up, roll up
I’m not supposed to look up but curiosity got the better of me when they were putting the restraints on me and testing the machine. I was intrigued to know who my audience was going to be. What kind of person would get a thrill out of this and also pay for the privilege – I still liked to think of it as that – of seeing me whipped like this?
The answer of course is anyone and everyone.
Take the people in front of me now. At first glance, they look completely ordinary. On the left is a tall, slim woman in a figure hugging black sleeveless dress. She is staring at me quite fixedly; the expression on her face is one of fascinated disbelief. But I think I also detect a look of envy in her eyes.
Next to her is an older man. He has his arm around her waist. He is dressed very elegantly; tie, shiny shoes and a suit that looks Armani. He’s in his late thirties and with a touch of grey at the temples. I notice he has very square shoulders. He’s fit and evidently works out. His cold blue eyes give little away but the corners of his mouth are turned up into an almost imperceptible smile. He’s been here before – many times probably – and he knows what is in store for me. It’s the smile of a man for whom physical cruelty – especially toward women – is a not just a pleasure and but also a passion to be explored and enjoyed to the full.
He scares me a little but I’m also feeling pretty turned on. Facing fear is a very erotic thing for me. And at times like this I sense my true strengths. Especially my feminine power. The hold I have over them. They can’t take their eyes off me. And I really love that.
Standing off to the right is another guy. Much younger. He couldn’t be more of a contrast. Dressed very casually, he looks like a tecky or a musician or something. Mid-twenties, kind of cute and with a floppy mop of long fair hair falling into his eyes. Thin face, great cheekbones and very tanned and fit-looking in shorts and a sleeveless basketball shirt. He’s exactly my type. No pretense or showiness. Just a kind of take it or leave it coolness. If we were in bar or a club and he tried to hit on me we’d be fucking like mad things before the night was over.
That made me feel good. It eased my nerves for one thing. I caught his eye for a second and then quickly looked down, deliberately trying to look coy and submissive. He was smiling at me. Kind of cheekily too. But there was a kind of innocent charm about it. He looked like a kid in a sweet shop; his eyes were darting between my breasts and my pussy as if he couldn’t decide which to eat first.
And that is making me very horny. I’m actually really turned on by him. Believe me, he is seriously cute.
And just think. All he has to do is press the right button on the display outside and this machine here will whip me on any part of my body he chooses and then, if he wants, and he thinks I deserve it, I will be made to cum for him.
Wow, now I suddenly feel superfuckinghorny. C’mon. I’m raring to go. Mmmm… Punish me. Press the button. Turn on the machine. Let’s go.
Someone just held up their phone and took a photo of me. Wow. I didn’t think that was allowed. Oh well. Whatever. There’s nothing I can do about it. I obviously look as hot as I feel though. I look down at my breasts. My nipples are hard and large and pointy. I feel great. Come on. Let’s go go go…
All the fun of the fair
The light just came on. Wow. OK. Here we go. This is it. There is a whirring noise. The machine is warming up. The arm snaps into place and flicks round once.
It doesn’t reach me but I hear the malevolent swish of the whip as it slices through the air.
Just a test. But it also gives those watching an idea of how this works.
And what it will do to me.
So come on you guys. Someone put some hard cash in my hole. The harder the better. I almost grinned. God I felt so fucking hot now.
Yes. Yes. Here we go. He’s doing it. My guy with the floppy hair is taking out his wallet and putting a bill into the tray next to the window. Oh I love you. You’re so gorgeous. Yes. God if I could, I’d blow him kisses. He’s so cute. But he needs to take that silly shirt off. I want to see some skin. Let me work for you, Sir. I’ll make you hot and sweaty. Get that shirt off.
He’s pressing some buttons off to the right. I can’t see. He’s choosing the option he wants.
So what’ll it be? What do you want to see first, Sir? What will Sir’s pleasure be?
The machine clicks and whirs and then slides along the rail. It’s moving behind me. Is it going to be my ass or my back?
I close my eyes and wait.
Out of the blue comes the first lash. Right on my ass. Ouch. Perfect shot. The machine never fails. Delicious sting. I love the first few lashes. Before the pain becomes real and all enveloping. It’s so invigorating. Ow! Shit, the next lash falls on the same spot. How many seconds was that? Damn.I forgot to count. I need to know so I can anticipate and steel myself. It’s all in the mind, girl. Ow! Another one. Wait. Shut up bitch and count. One… two… three… four… five… six…
Ow! Fuck. Six seconds between each blow. It’s starting to sting. That hot glowing feeling. I stiffen and look up for a split second. My floppy-haired boy is smiling and I am determined to give him value for money.
I notice the machine goes silent for a split second just before each blow. Here it comes again. Ow! I gasp out loud. How many is that? Five? Six? Fuck I need to concentrate, calm down, empty your mind, focus, find that secret place. You know it’s there. Think of the ocean. The waves.
The machine continues relentless. It’s cruelty is programmed, mindless, inhuman. Every 6 seconds another stinging lash. I glance up again, my face now contorted from the growing pain. Armani guy is laughing and pointing. His arm is wrapped possessively around the woman’s waist.
Ow! Ow! Ow! Fuck it’s really stinging now. You know, like when the pain has entered you and is crawling around inside. Like a snake or something. Hot acid pain enveloping you from within as well as eating you from without. Burning you up. The heat is growing and becoming constant. Each blow slices deeper than the last.
I glance up at the woman. Her lips are just slightly parted. She is very aroused I can tell. Her eyes wide open in disbelief. Another lash. Fuck. How many is it now? The machine is so fucking perfect. Too perfect. My ass is burning red. I feel like I’m being branded with hot irons.
Image – Caprice / TheSpankingMachine.com
Finally it stops. I’m gasping but I think I managed to keep my cool. I stayed in control. I can find that place in my mind. It will come to me. I know it’s there. Deep in the ocean. Beneath the waves of pain. It’s there and it will take me in its arms and I will know its grace and ecstasy.
It’s stopped. I think I get a minute to get my breath back. There’s a screen at the top of the window and outside they get a commercial, a brief message from our sponsors. Right now it’s a really famous soft drinks company. You know the one.
I look up. There are more people now. I knew there would be. Drawn by the erotic sound of whips on bare flesh and my amplified cries. Mostly men but I notice two women. A couple. Both in their twenties. One is an older looking woman with long dark hair. The other is younger, blonde, and wearing a midriff revealing tank top and cut-off jeans. The younger girl looks shocked and a little frightened by what she is seeing. Her partner has her hands wrapped tightly around her bare midriff, as if holding her in place. She is looking over her shoulder, her chin resting against the younger girl’s neck. She’s smiling and whispering something in her ear as her fingers play at the button of her shorts. Then I see her hand sneak under the button and I see the expression on the blonde’s face change slowly from fear to arousal.
Now a little chubby guy pushing his way to the front. He’s holding a beer and laughing and pointing. He is staring quite unashamedly at my titties. He turns around. I think he’s calling to someone. Come here. Get a load of this.
My floppy-haired boy is still there in front. I try and catch his eye again. Not the same again, please. Choose another position, Sir. My breasts. I like it on my breasts, Sir. Or my pussy. But not my ass again, please please please.
There. Eye contact. He’s got such clear blue eyes. But now I think I see the ice. He has secrets. Vices. Like everyone I guess. The hidden depths.
And more often than not they are the most interesting things about us, aren’t they?
He isn’t hiding anything now. I can see. It’s written so plainly on his face. Sure enough, he takes his wallet and leans over to the slot.
The machine doesn’t move. Damn. That means my ass again. He obviously enjoyed the first round and wants to see more of the same. My ass is already burning up so this is really going to hurt and he knows it. Hmm he looks so cute and yet under that pretty-boy-butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-his-mouth exterior there lurks a heart of pure wickedness.
I don’t see it coming and the lash strikes me when I’m not ready and I yell out. There’s a cheer from outside. The viewing window is totally filled with faces. All of them staring at me in wide eyed fascination. The chubby little guy at the front has gone all red in the face and is jumping up and down yelling something and shaking his fist. He looks like someone cheering on his favourite team. Go Cunts Go! There’s a middle aged woman standing next to him. She looks pissed at something. Him maybe? Is she his wife?
Ow! Fuck. My ass feels like it’s being ripped to shreds. Ow! Fuck fuck fuck…
But with an indifference that is monstrous and inhuman the machine continues to land a series of vicious and perfectly aimed blows on the exact same spot on my ass. No variation at all. I desperately try to move my hips and ass but it makes no difference. It’s like someone holding a burning torch to my buttocks. Ow! I can hear them cheering at my laughable attempts to evade the lashes. Ow! I pull at the two the restraints, grasping them tightly, and close my eyes. Ow! God how many now? My thighs are trembling. My legs feel weak. I can’t control myself. Ow! Ow! Ow! It’s like sitting in scolding hot water. Don’t lose control, girl. Ride it. I grab at the restraints and hold on for dear life. Hold on, babe. Detach your mind and body. Control control control.
Image – Caprice / TheSpankingMachine.com
It’s stopped. Emptiness. Silence. The pain is still there, throbbing and constant, but the enemy has ceased its advance.
I open my eyes and look up. Another commercial break. A sports drink. Wow. So many faces at the window now. I can see myself reflected in the glass. I’m sweating and my hair is all over the place. I look a complete mess.
What now? Wait. Just get your breath back. Keep your shit together. Breathe.
I look up again and see the woman in the black dress putting a bill in the tray.
God not my ass again, please, I beg you.
After a moment the machine whirs along the track and I see it appear in front of me. That means my pussy or my breasts.
I look up a moment. She’s smiling. She touches the shoulder of the guy in the suit and says something. He nods and smiles back at her. Then he turns his blue eyes on me and looks at my pussy.
The arm is not going up. They want to see me pussy-whipped. It’s her gift to him. I notice how thin the strip of leather is. No wonder it stings so much. I look down and take a deep breath.
For a moment the arm is still. Poised. Ready. Its lack of movement not only seems to mock me but it also creates an air of high tension in the crowd. No one moves. All eyes are on me. All thinking the same. Will she be able to take it or is she going to break down and start screaming and begging for mercy as the strip of leather lacerates her pussy.
A mercy which – all will agree – must be denied her.
That’s what you want isn’t it?
Suddenly without warning it flicks round and in a flash the strip of leather detonates right on my pussy and curls around on my thighs. Fuck. That really stings. My pussy was just shaved this morning and is still tender. Shit. I shut my eyes but I can’t help it and I quickly open them again. I don’t know what to do. Look or not look. I couldn’t see the arm before but now I can and that somehow just makes it worse.
A flick so quiet. So fast. The whip is like a snake. There is a hiss then the terrible burning sting if its bite. I twist and shift my thighs but it’s no good. The hot pricking pain is penetrating me. Rising up through my cunt. Ow fuck! I grab the restraints and try and lever myself up and away from it. In vain of course but movement, any kind of movement, helps. I hear more cheers. That’s exactly what they want to see. Me squirming and writhing from the agony of it; the hot thin cord slicing into my tender naked cunt
I think it’s getting faster. Ouch! No way was that six seconds. Christ it cuts like a fucking razor. Agony. I look down. I can see red stripes on my thighs and hips. I look up and see all their faces gaping at me. A tall thin guy in a black t-shirt has his hand pressed against his crotch. Where is my cute floppy-haired boy? No. He’s gone. For a moment I feel lost. Am I not good enough for him? Has he found someone better?
Another stinging blow obliterates my mind and I close my eyes and try to withdraw into myself. Find that place. The ocean. The crystal sea. She will bathe you and keep you.
Fuckfuckfuckfuck it is really starting to burn now. My thighs are on fire and it’s scoring perfect direct hits right on my pussy time after time after fucking time. I’m desperately twisting my legs to try and avoid it and I can feel my ankles chafing against the restraints. I have no idea how many it’s been now. It seems to be going on forever. I can feel there is snot in my nose and there is a kind of emptiness, a black void, a sense of utter desperation welling up inside me. I think I’m going to cry. I’m losing it. I open my eyes but everything is all blurry. I’m blinded. Help. Please. Stop it. Fuck, it fucking hurts fuck fuck fuck. Please. I can’t do this. I can hear myself screaming and crying out no no no please stop but it doesn’t it’s just a mindless machine doing only what it’s been programmed to do and there can be no escape. The pain is tearing into me, tearing me up inside, and suddenly something splits and I’m shattered, I’m here and I’m there, in pieces, broken. Shattered by the heat, the scorching heat, the blistering heat heat heat…
Oh fuck. Thank Christ. I’m gasping for breath. God. That was awful. This girl has definitely reached her limit. Never be pussy whipped by a machine.
I look up. So many faces. I can hear another commercial on the screen but no one is paying any attention to it. They are all staring wide-eyed at me. The looks on their faces, so engrossed, so rapt, as if this was the most amazing thing they’d ever seen. I return their gaze. I know I shouldn’t but I don’t care now. I’m pleading. That fucking hurt. It still fucking hurts. Please. All of you. Please don’t do that to me again. Please. Help me.
Then I see him. He’s back. My golden floppy-haired boy is back. He’s holding a beer. Oh he just went to get a beer, that’s all, and now he’s back. I stare at him a moment. He has such gorgeous full lips. I can feel myself reincorporating. Taking strength.
Our eyes meet and I sense a connection. I see him take out his wallet and he leans toward the tray. Suddenly I feel much better. Whatever he wants I’ll give it to him. Those lips…
But please, Sir, have mercy.
I see him insert a bill and press at the buttons.
Please Sir have mercy on this poor whipped girl.
The arm rises.
It’s my breasts. He wants to see my titties whipped. Thank god. Thank god. I look at him. I almost smile and then think better of it.
My tits I can take. I like having my tits whipped. Correction. I LOVE having my tits whipped. I’ve been known to get all hysterical – in a good way – about having my tits whipped. You know, shouting and laughing out loud and singing praises to the heavens. Getting my tits whipped is like an early morning swim in an icy lake. Bracing. Invigorating. Life affirming. Mmmm…
Image – Caprice / TheSpankingMachine.com
Wait. The rod in front of my pussy is extending. Wow. He wants to see me cum too. Oh thank you thank you. You beautiful floppy-haired prince with your gorgeous full lips.
I push my pussy out and let the vibrator slide into me. A perfect fit. Mmmm. It’s humming. A slow buzz. Nice. Thank you. That’ll take all my soreness away. Bring it on. I feel way better already.
I see the arm twitch once and then it flicks round and it hits me. I count the seconds. Five. Then the next. A warm glow starts to spread across my breasts and I can feel my nipples hardening, tingling. The vibrator is humming away merrily and I lower myself as much as I can onto it and push forward so I can feel some pressure against my clit. Hmmm. That’s good. Try and stay like that.
Floppy hair is staring right at me. I’m all his now. His slave. He’s paid for me. Suddenly I’m desperate to see him with that silly shirt off. Let’s make this hotter shall we? Deliberately maintaining eye contact I lean forward toward him and push myself more heavily onto the vibrator and imagine it’s his cock. He’s bound to notice. It exposes my breasts more to the whip but I don’t care. The pleasure will take care of that. I give him the eye. It’s obvious what I’m doing. The message, the look in my eye, is clear. It’s about as big a come-on as I can manage in the circumstances. This is for you, my prince charming.
He gapes at me, at first unsure of the look, and I see him nervously take a swig from the bottle. I start moaning. Deliberately. Probably more than I need to just yet. I look up and I only have eyes for him now. In a sea of faces his gaze is my rock.
My breasts are scolding hot from the whip but I realize I’m not even counting the lashes. The thin cord snaps and bites at my nipples and when I look down at my breasts I can see the red marks. Exhilarated, I look up at him. This is your work. You did this to me, Sir. He is not smiling now. He is staring right at my breasts. Totally engrossed. A look of total lascivious enthrallment on his face. He raises an arm and flicks the hair away from his eyes and then nervously pulls at his shirt. He’s sweating. Good. I look down at the shirt and then up at him. You’re hot. Take it off. Remove it and let me see you bare-chested. I want to cum for you. All this will be for your pleasure. And your pleasure is my pleasure. I want to cum for you. Take the shirt off now. I want to cum for you. Please, I want to cum for you. I want to fucking cum for you.
He needs to hurry up. The vibrator is pushing me closer to the edge and I don’t know if I can hold on. The inevitable is closing in.
I stare directly at him. Completely ignoring the others. I only have eyes for him.
He can’t take his eyes off me now. Every time the whip slashes at my breasts he looks up directly into my eyes to see my reaction. I moan, I cry, I shout, I scream. I’m loving it. Seriously. It’s all for him now. I’m having my breasts whipped and being vibed in front of a gorgeous looking guy and all these other people and I’m really loving it and I just want him to take his fucking shirt off so I can see him when I cum.
The whip is relentless but my pussy is hot and charged and I feel no pain at all now. I’m enveloped in the white hot glow of total exhilaration and my body is so fucking alive I can feel the warm air all over my skin and the life inside me and all the static between us and I’m screaming from the elation as well as the agony and even the ecstasy is agony now and I don’t think I can’t take it any more and it’s all mounting inside me and then I see him raise him arms and in one beautiful precious movement his shirt is gone and his chest is bare and I see his abs and his nipples and his flat smooth belly and I’m screaming shouting shrieking absolutely euphoric and I can’t take my eyes off him and I lean forward onto the vibrator and I willingly gratefully greedily accept the inescapable conflagration, the agony and the exhilaration, the pleasure and the beauty, the ecstasy and the torture, I see it all before me, I see their faces and the wonder in their eyes and it’s all so beautiful and something is burning within me, tearing right inside me, eating me from the inside out, fighting to get out of me and I feel so hot and it is undeniable and inescapable and life life life it’s god’s truth and it’s filling me up and it’s pushing and it’s pushing and I’m going to explode and oh fuck yes yes yes yes fuck yes yes
Image – Caprice / TheSpankingMachine.com
Something for everyone
When the applause had died down, the young man with long fair hair turned away from the crowd and quietly walked off. He was pretty shaken by what he’d just seen. And also a little embarrassed.
There was no denying it. He’d lost control. There was a large, quite noticeable damp patch in the crotch of his pants. He’d had to take off his shirt to cover it. The looks the girl had given him and the way her body had writhed so sensually under the whip – so unbearably erotically – had aroused him so fully that he’d not been able to contain himself. The way she’d fixed her eyes on him while the machine whipped her. As if he were her only recourse. Her only hope. He had watched her breathless, his heart pounding, impossibly aroused. Fired by her, his cock just seemed to take on a life of its own; the inevitable explosion triggered by invisible magical fingers teasing so sweetly at the tip. Just a brush of his hand against his pants and he had cum so readily. So easily. And so very intensely.
And then when she’d cum it was so beautiful, he’d wanted to stop time. Hold that moment forever. Savor it. Control it. Own it. Images of her still flickered in his mind, as if on permanent repeat. Yes, he had to find out more about her. He needed to see her in person. Needed to see those eyes surrendering to him once again. He would call down to the desk and find out who the girl in Booth 4 was. Would she be available later?
Still shirtless he hurried to the escalator. Two pretty girls passed him on the way down and gave his pecks an admiring twice over. He smiled. Another time maybe. He couldn’t take his mind off the girl now. He’d cum only minutes before but his cock was already rock hard again just thinking about what he would do with her. And next time he would definitely stay in control. He’d spank her and then calmly watch as she was bull-whipped by one of the keepers. He imagined her draped over his knees. His hand stroking the red marks on her whipped buttocks and back. Then taking her from behind. His cock plunging in to her and feeling the warmth of the reddened whipped ass cheeks against his crotch. No other ass would do now. No other body would be able to satisfy the aching constant desire which now assailed his sex.
Meanwhile over at Booth 4 a short stocky man placed another bill in the tray and watched as the machine slowly sucked it in. His wife had gone off shopping so he had a good 30 minutes all to himself. He looked up eagerly and saw the whipping machine slide on its track and stop behind the girl. He’d picked “ass”. She’d looked so damned hot that first time.
To be continued