The Story of L Ch. 05

The touch on the back of each of L’s hands was so soft that it took her a moment for her brain to acknowledge it. She was being stroked with great delicacy and tenderness by fingers that she was pretty sure were feminine. A fingernail was now turned onto her left wrist and tracing up her arm, ever so gently. Especially blindfolded as she was, it was extraordinarily sensual, and she had the feeling that her anonymous companion was enjoying it too.

Lips touched hers, with the same gentleness. L’s lips were still covered in cum, lubricating the slow kiss. A tongue ran round the edge of her lips, tasting and cleaning, before delving into her mouth to touch her own. And so this continued for a time that could have been just a minute or ten or an hour – the engaging kiss and the gentle caresses both lulled L into a delirium. She felt so desired and so comforted. Her pussy was still hugely dilated by the giant dildo inside, but she no longer noticed it, nor the clamps on her nipples and the weights on them which now moved so little because she was so still, nor the fatigue of her body being held so long in the same place.

Then the lips slid sideways, maintaining contact with her skin but gliding over her cheek until they brushed her right earlobe. The soft, sensitive skin of her earlobe was being licked and teased and lightly pulled by those lips, and as L began to drift further into her own imagination and to the verge even of sleepiness a voice whispered in her ear. The voice was certainly female, well-bred, middle-aged maybe. The pronunciation was slow, measured and careful that L should not fail to hear and have time for her brain to process what was said, which was this:

“Prepare yourself, beautiful. Your body is ready for me and I am going to whip you much harder than I did before. I am wet with the thought of hearing you scream and seeing the tears pour down your face again. When I have finished marking you I will offer my cunt to your mouth and I want you to taste how much you have aroused me.”

L’s consciousness snapped back into life and the words and their meaning percolated to her inner cortex.

There was a pause and L sensed it was her opportunity to object. She could say no. She was not gagged and no longer had a stiff cock down her throat. She could shout out clearly that this was not something she wanted. But she did want it, strangely. She wanted the knowing of it. She wanted to know if she could take it. She wanted to understand how that pain could translate to pleasure. She said nothing but her body began involuntarily to tense.

Then the little voice resumed.

“The gentlemen here, some have had the pleasure of you already. Many of them have not but they will. But some it seems cannot wait much longer. I have told them to cum over your face as you scream. If they time it right they will cum in your open, screaming, beautiful mouth.”

As L processed this additional insight, not just as to what was to happen to her, but also the interesting implication of who was in charge, the warm breath in her ear dispersed and she picked up footsteps, the tapping of heels, moving away and behind her. Her body tensed again.

The walls of that basement room were thick, the ceiling was made of concrete slabs, and the only entrance was a passageway opening to a stairway at the end to the corner of the room above. Nonetheless the pitch and volume of L’s first scream jolted the bartender and remaining guests upstairs.

Screams of ecstasy were, you might say, the raison d’etre of the establishment. Usually of women, they were the screams induced by masterful fingers, rising in pitch until the bedsheet was flooded. They were the screams induced by the first pleasure of penetration of that hard cock of unexpectedly huge girth. They were the screams induced by the second cock that pressed into her asshole and rubbed alongside the cock already deep in her pussy. They were the screams of the rolling orgasm that followed. And often the senses were flooded by the screams in one corner being matched by those in another, or from the bed in the centre of the room. Sometimes, often, they were the screams that followed from the lash of the whip or the crack of the paddle, especially on skin virgin to that sensation.

But even those whose long exposure to such vocals recognised that the scream from L was of a different order entirely. It rose from deep inside her belly and launched itself across the basement room and reverberated off the walls. Her mistress had been good to her word and, rather than work up any further to it, had wielded the first crack of the whip with no more notice and all the force she could muster. She had landed it with expert accuracy right across the centre of L’s buttocks (still not the most sensitive part by far) and had drawn blood in a clear thin line exactly parallel to the floor.

As L’s breath depleted and took the initial force from the primeval nature of her piercing yell, the pain seemed to become if anything more intense. She gulped in some air and screamed again and again, and only then began to feel the welling in her eyes. The contrast with the tenderness of only moments before was brutal.

A hard fucking, or a strong hand on her pussy, often resulted in L soaking the floor. She loved the intensity of the feeling of squirting and the warmth of the wetness on her thighs, spreading back under her ass. But soaking the floor with tears was not something she had expected as she had entered the club. Her breasts heaved with sobs and the tears kept falling even as the shock and the pain began to subside.

Finally she caught her breath. No further lash had yet followed the first. But her ass clenched and then pulsated with almost as much shock as being whipped when what felt like a thousand tiny electrical pulses pricked across her backside. She gulped and tried to decipher what was happening. The sensation spread down the back of her legs and then back up the inside of her thighs, before continuing over her buttocks and into the small of her back.

L’s brain was still doing cartwheels when that stroking stopped, and was replaced by a couple of light taps towards the top of her thighs. Instinctively she knew what this meant. Her grip on the bar tightened, her back arched, and her ass clenched again. And sure enough a few seconds later another giant scream was forced from her mouth as the whip cracked across the top of her legs. And as she screamed her mouth was suddenly filled, as one of those present, enjoying the sight of this beautiful lady, naked except for her white heels and pink corset, clamped into a position of ultimate submission, took his self-pleasuring over the edge and came hard into her. The cum stifled her scream momentarily, then flowed over her lips and dripped into the puddle of her tears on the floor.

More stroking, two more taps, another lash, scream, tears, again, again, again. From the midpoint of her buttocks to halfway to the back of her knees, L’s skin was burning. And her hair and cheeks were now also laced with cum, as more of the gentlemen present had relished her ordeal. One had even inserted his cock into her mouth as she was screaming, gripped her hair, and shot his load right into the back of her throat. L was starting to understand what it was like to be abused without restraint. And despite all of her screaming and tears, and the debasement which, had she thought of it, would have had her cheeks smarting with shame … despite all of this she was really starting to enjoy it.