Consensual Consequences
Sandy – Punishment
by Clare de Luna
Once again, snapping fingers brought Sandy out of her trance. As her mind rushed back to consciousness, her eyes slowly opened, and she gasped as her arousal still thrilled through her body. She could still feel the collar around her neck, and just knowing that it was there seemed to ignite every nerve ending in her body.
She also knew that Mistress had implanted new suggestions in her mind, but she couldn’t remember what they were. This sense of helplessness only heightened her arousal.
As she slowly became oriented, she realized that she was still on the stage, but she was no longer kneeling. Instead, her arms were drawn straight up above her head, and her wrists were attached to a single chain that was hanging from the ceiling. Her feet, meanwhile, were attached to a spreader bar that left her feet just barely able to touch the floor. In her heels she could manage to put her weight on her feet to alleviate some of the strain on her shoulders, but doing so was a struggle.
As Sandy looked around to further take in her surroundings she saw that the scene before her hadn’t changed much from the last time she’d been conscious enough to be aware of it: the Mistress’s still sat in rows watching her as their slaves sat next to them. Now, though, some of the slaves had taken up new positions – usually in between their Mistress’s legs as they serviced the sexes of the women who dominated them. Still others were draped across their Mistress’s laps, their bottoms sticking into the air and receiving the occasional swat from their Mistress’s hand.
Sandy didn’t have long to take all of this in, though, as her own Mistress’s voice soon dominated her attention.
“Are you ready to be my slave?”
“Yes, Mistress.” Sandy knew that what was to follow would probably be painful – yet she didn’t hesitate for a moment. She was ready to submit to her Mistress on every level that she knew, and if her Mistress desired to punish her, then she would willingly accept that punishment. In fact, just the thought of it caused her sex to twitch in excitement and her already pointed nipples to grow impossibly hard.
Mistress was once again circling Sandy, and now she had a riding crop in her hand that she thwacked into her own palm in much the same way that she had at the dinner table. Sandy watched and listened, the anticipation of what was to come seemed more excruciating than the actual cropping could possibly be.
Sandy realized how erroneous that thought had been just moments later. Without warning, Mistress used the crop to strike Sandy’s stomach. It felt as though a line of fire had suddenly scorched her mid-section, and, though she tried her best not to, Sandy let out a sharp scream.
Mistress resumed her circling.
“How did that feel, Sandy?”
“It hurt, Mistress.”
“Would you like me to stop?”
“No, Mistress. Please continue to dominate my body.”
“Good girl.”
Another strike came down on Sandy’s exposed body – this time on her back. She let out a scream again, although this time it was a little less pronounced.
Before Sandy had recovered, another strike claimed the sensitive skin just under Sandy’s armpit. She screamed again and jumped, causing all of her weight to come down on her shoulders. As she tried to regain her balance her scream turned into a pained yet erotic moan.
“How are you feeling, Sandy?”
Sandy responded as she regained her balance. “I feel wonderful Mistress. Thank you for punishing me.”
Sandy heard whispers from the audience. She couldn’t make out complete sentences, but she was able to catch several vague phrases:
“Wow, she’s just amazing…”
“…such a natural submissive…”
“…so quickly and so completely…”
“…she wants more so soon…”
“…Mistress Catherine is so lucky…”
Sandy let these comments wash over her – adding to the feeling of her submission – making her more aroused.
Sandy’s breasts felt the effects of the crop next, as Mistress concentrated several blows on the tender flesh. Sandy felt tears rising to her eyes – tears that then spilled out as Mistress redirected her blows to Sandy’s inner thighs.
Mistress’s crop now seemed relentless. Gone were the careful, spaced out crops that had begun Sandy’s punishment – Mistress was moving the crop swiftly back and forth between each of Sandy’s inner thighs – preventing her from focusing on the pain that remained in her breasts by providing a searing sensation in her legs that seemed almost too much to bear.
Sandy’s scream now seemed continuous.
Then, suddenly, the cropping stopped.
“How are you feeling, Sandy?”
Through her desperate gasps for air, Sandy replied, “Th-th-thank y-y-you, Mistress.”
“Would you like me to crop you more?”
“Y-yes, Mistress.”
“Very well.”
Mistress resumed her circling, but now accompanied it with a steady rain of blows. Sandy felt the insidious instrument on the backs of her thighs, on her stomach, on her back, on her breasts, on her side, on her bottom, on the flesh of her thighs. Throughout all of her punishment, Sandy flinched with each strike, and let out a little cry – the exertion that went with her punishment left her too out of breath to continue screaming as she had earlier.
Finally, when Sandy thought that she could bear it no more, Mistress walked around so that she was facing her slave.
“Count the remaining strokes with the crop.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Sandy was struggling to catch her breath and knew that speaking while being cropped would be difficult. Still, she was determined to please her Mistress.
Without warning, Mistress brought the crop down on Sandy’s right nipple. The bound girl sucked air into her lungs as the pain tore through her. As she exhaled she said, “One.”
Another blow, this time to the other nipple. “Two.”
Mistress alternated blows, striking first one nipple, then the other. Each time the crop came in contact with Sandy’s sensitive, engorged nipples, it was all she could do to get the number our of her mouth. It seemed an eternity before she finally practically screamed out, “Ten!”
“Good girl,” Mistress praised her. With that, she offered the crop to Sandy’s lips.
“Kiss the crop, slave.”
Sandy immediately complied – kissing and tonguing the crop as though it were a long-lost lover. And, she realized as she did it, that is almost how she viewed the crop. As much pain as it had inflicted on her body, she nevertheless felt that it had touched her deeply in a way that brought parts of herself to the surface that had been buried for too long. The tears continued to stream down her cheeks, but these were not tears of pain, they were tears of joy.
When Sandy had finished her kiss Mistress stepped away, leaving Sandy panting in her bondage. The pain of the crop had become so taxing on Sandy’s body that she had given up trying to stand in her bonds – now she simply hung, allowing her shoulders to bear her weight as she hung in submission to her Mistress.
As she awaited her Mistress’s next move, she also became aware of just how sweaty she had become. Her body seemed drenched in perspiration that was running down her body, which was flushed from the exertion, the punishment, and her deep and consuming arousal. As much as her skin burned from the torment it had just received, it paled in comparison to the consuming need for release that was now threatening to melt her entire body.
This feeling only intensified when Mistress reentered her vision holding a flogger. Sandy’s eyes were immediately drawn to the device. She couldn’t quite determine why, but something about the strands of the flogger seemed to spark a part of her mind that she couldn’t quite place – all she knew was that she wanted to feel its touch on her body.
Rather than strike her with the device, though, Mistress simply continued to walk around Sandy, almost as though she were stalking the chained girl.
“Do you want me to flog you?”
“Oh, yes, please.” Sandy felt a yearning for the flogger that almost frightened her in its intensity.
“You seem more eager for the flogger than you were for the crop. Is this true?”
Sandy’s need had become so powerful that she struggled to get the words out.
“Yes, Mistress. Please, please punish me with the flogger.”
“Why are you so eager, Sandy?”
“I don’t know. I just know I want to feel you punish me with the flogger. Please, Mistress. Please!”
If she could have, Sandy would have dropped to her Mistress’s feet and begged – groveled – for Mistress to punish her with the flogger. But, in her current position, all she could do was use her voice to plead for her torment.
She didn’t have to wait for long, though, before Mistress gave her what she wanted. She felt the flogger come down on her back, leaving a wide swath of pain that was a stark contrast to the pointed and focused strikes of the crop.
Even as this pain descended on her body, though, Sandy felt her sex erupt in a fiery need. It was at that moment that Sandy’s memories from her latest trance returned. Mistress had programmed her to respond to the flogger. As aroused as she was, Sandy now realized that only one device could unlock her orgasm; that only the flogger could give Sandy the climax that she craved.
Next, Sandy felt the flogger on her bottom, giving the soft flesh several blows in steady succession. With each strike Sandy’s sex became still more and more alive. She began to moan steadily – her moans a mixture of pleasure and pain. She could feel her bottom warming up – taking on a rosy color – and knew that her sex was warming up even more.
Suddenly the flogging stopped. Sandy began thrashing in her bonds as she pleaded, “Please, Mistress. Please flog me!”
“As you wish.”
Mistress had walked to Sandy’s front and now began flogging her directly on her breasts, causing her chest to quickly turn a dull crimson color as both her arousal and the tender skin reacted with each other. Despite the pain, though, Sandy did as much as she could do within her bonds to thrust her chest out to meet each stroke from her Mistress. The sensitive, distressed nipples seemed to be on fire, yet the arousal that engorged them kept Sandy wanting more.
Sandy closed her eyes and reveled in the relentless attack. He moans poured, unbidden, from her mouth and sensation flooded her mind. The flogger was causing her body such distress, yet she knew that it would be her salvation – she knew that it, and only it, could give her sex the relief that it needed – and that need for relief was far greater than any pain that Mistress could inflict on Sandy’s sweaty, tormented body.
Finally, with Sandy’s body writhing in its bonds, Mistress stopped her onslaught of Sandy’s breasts and once again walked behind her. The dominated girl tried desperately to catch her breath; her body was hanging limply in from the chain attached to the ceiling, glistening as the sweat on her body caught the lights of the stage.
Then, from behind, Mistress struck Sandy so that the flogger reached between her legs and landed on her sex.
Sandy saw stars begin to cloud her vision as the pain and the arousal were both more than she had ever experienced. The flogger seemed to push her to the precipice of orgasm, but she remained trapped there, unable to cum; unable to experience release.
Sandy found herself spontaneously gasping between breaths, “One. Thank you, Mistress. May I have another?”
Mistress moved around to her front, and once again struck Sandy directly on her sex. Again, Sandy found herself counting, seemingly without her own conscious control.
“Two. Thank you, Mistress. May I have another?”
A third blow – this time Sandy thrust her hips towards the crop as it landed, which intensified the pain but also seemed to push her closer to her climax.
“Three. Thank you, Mistress. May I have another?”
Another blow to her sex.
“Four. Thank you, Mistress. May I have another?”
By now the sensations running through Sandy’s body were so overwhelming that Sandy was amazed that she was able to speak at all. Nevertheless, when the flogger struck she somehow managed to squeak out, “Five. Thank you, Mistress. May I have another?”
Sandy knew that only her Mistress’s post-hypnotic suggestions were allowing her to croak out these words. She also knew that only her Mistress’s suggestions were keeping her on the very edge of orgasm for so long. Each strike of the flogger was bringing her closer, and she knew that eventually that torturous device would bring her to an ecstatic climax like none that she had ever felt.
The flogger struck again.
“Six. Thank you, Mistress. May I have another?”
Mistress was now moving a bit away from Sandy; swinging the flogger in such a way that Sandy had to thrust her hips forward in order to reach the arc of the device. Sandy pushed herself forward as far as her bonds would allow – desperate to feel the leather strands fall upon the impossibly sensitive skin of her dripping sex.
“Seven. Thank you, Mistress. May I have another?”
With her sex thrust out, her flushed, tortured breasts heaving, her head thrown back, her legs quivering with strain, Sandy could barely speak as Mistress began to land blows on Sandy’s sex in quick succession.
“Eight. Thank you, Mistress. May I have another?” Sandy could feel her release pushing against the hypnotic barrier.
“Nine. Thank you, Mistress. May I have another?” Sandy’s eyes, which had been closed for quite some time, now flew open as release seemed on the very brink of consuming her.
“Ten!” No more words came from Sandy’s mouth as all that she was now capable of were helpless, ecstatic moans of pure, unbridled, incomprehensible pleasure. All of the suffering that her body had endured coalesced into a single, overwhelming sensation of release and orgasm, and her sex erupted even as Mistress’s blows continued – her secretions squirting all over the flogger and dripping down her inner thighs.
Sandy could now feel the parts of her skin that had received each individual blow igniting in a sexual frenzy – her whole body shook and thrashed as the work of the flogger and crop melded with her arousal to flood her entire body and mind with a relentless stream of orgasms that purged her minds of any thoughts that were not focused on pure pleasure.
Sandy couldn’t see or hear anything anymore. All of her senses were focused on the feeling of pleasure that coursed over her entire body. The blows that continued to descend upon her sex seemed to be trapping her in a time loop in which she returned, with each blow, to the absolute apex; to that exact moment when her release claimed her.
Again and again and again the flogger struck her tortured sex, yet she still thrust her hips forward, craving the contact – letting it spur her on to orgasm after orgasm. The pain only magnified the erotic charge that was flowing throughout her body as each release seemed to grow in intensity.
Eventually her hips found the perfect rhythm – thrusting forward in time with the flogger, as though she were making love to it, which, in a sense she was since each thrust of her hips brought her to another climax; drove her wilder in her lust.
Stars started to creep into the corners of her vision and her whole body burned with pleasure, pain, and exertion. But Sandy didn’t stop. She continued to thrust her sex forward – reveling in the feeling, determined to feel as much as her body would allow.
Finally, neither her body nor her mind could endure the power of the release that had taken her. The stars began to fill her vision, and the muscles of her body started to give out. Utterly exhausted, her mind eventually shut down. Sandy passed out cold, hanging limp in her chains.