She gasped and hissed, as Renee found her mark, laying the slim rod along one of the hot dark weals that ran across her ravaged hinds. Bitch! She thought, but then had no time for more resentment as the rod swept in again and caught her across the thighs, where Henry's penultimate stroke had cut her. She mewled with pain and went up on her toes, knees turning in and knuckles whitening as she struggled not to let go of her ankles. Renee grinned like a she-wolf and struck again, this time a little higher.
It wasn't easy to take but it had to be done. She had accepted the challenge and lost, and now honour and her self-esteem demanded that she endure. With bitten lip she kept down and Renee cut low again, just catching Henry's first thigh stroke. She whimpered at the pain but was still bending when Renee said, "Take five. Then Laura can give you the rest."
She straightened painfully, her hands going behind her, under the minuscule skirt to squeeze and knead her riven haunches. Her head was back as she reached down to the tenderised meat and her mouth hung open. She hung there for a full minute while the women all around her kept up an excited buzz of conversation. Then it was time to resume and the room, crowded now as more and more women finished their meals and came to pretty-up, fell silent again as the poor lacerated bum was put on display once more.
Laura was mercifully swift. The strokes whaled into her sore bottom in regular progression, a compassionate five-second interval between each enabling her to recover enough to take the next without having to swallow each to the bitter dregs. Four grunts and moans later, and she could stand again to let the fire burn itself down to tolerable levels while she kneaded the burning buns in her fists as if trying to wring the pain out of them.
When she could bear to remove her hands from the furrowed flesh of her backside, the other two helped her press a cold cloth to reddened eyes, wipe the sweat from her forehead and make emergency repairs to ravaged make-up. To a standing ovation from the women, sitting ovation in the case of the 'stall holders', they escorted her back to the dining room to rejoin their men.
Nothing was said at the time, it was as if the men were used to these indeterminate absences of women in pairs and trios and didn't give it a thought, but in the car Henry remarked on her puffy eyed appearance in a manner that demanded some explanation. When he had had it he roared with laughter.
"That trio of yours is going to go too far one day. You'll be in real trouble," he commented. "Never mind, a man has ways of coping with that, so you'll come to no harm. Witches you may be, but a man has a couple of wands which, between them can bring even the most potent sorceress to heel."
Nor had it escaped him that, despite her newly whipped condition, she had repeated the ritual of earlier that evening, flipping up her skirt to sit bare-arsed on the leather.
"The way you're dripping on my seats, you'll stain the leather," he remarked, for she was oozing incontinently from her extravagantly engorged vulva. "You can clean it up in the morning. I won't be using it tomorrow, being Saturday," he said, "so you can make a job of it. Warm water and a little washing up liquid will do the job nicely once you've got the worst of the crust off. You can do that with your pretty pink tongue. Stop it from flapping for a minute and give me a rest."
"Yes Henry," was all she said in reply, as she pressed herself against him warmly.
It didn't take her long to be on the bed, waiting hungrily for his embrace. A quick once over with a wipe, to spare him too much make-up on his face and pillow, and an even quicker strip, she was half naked already anyway, and she was lying on her back, knees slightly flexed, inviting his entrance into the hot throbbing sheath of her sex, but Henry had other ideas.
With a vice-like grip he seized her by the hips, lifting her up and turning her over, pulling her up onto her hands and knees. When his rock hard staff started to press against her tight little anus she cried out in protest.
"No, please Henry. You know how small I am there. Besides I need to come."
"You'll come alright, darling, the state you're in," he assured her, "and I'll just have to put up with the tightness until you've been seen to. I'm not wasting a view like this. Your sore arse is a sight for sore eyes, as they say!" and he thrust forward with his hips, driving the turgid shaft deep into her bowel. She howled at the violence of his entry, but then panted with lust at the feeling of being stuffed, crammed, filled to the gills.
He was right of course. In her heightened state of excitement and lust she came as quickly and spent as freely as if he were using a more conventional orifice to penetrate her. In the heat of their passion she quite forgot to ask him what he meant by her being 'seen to'.
Part Three: Tested
The 'function room' at the Bull's Head was crowded. Invitation only tonight, no strangers or people from outside the charmed circle of those in the know, but that still provided a packed audience of several score members, male and female. Six of the latter stood on the small stage that on more conventional occasions served to hold a live band or the DJ and his equipment for a disco night.
Tonight the six females were the entertainment. For a start each was a beauty in her own right, and nothing more came between that beauty and the eye of the beholder than a pair of black hold-up stockings and heeled pumps, whose shiny black leather matched the collars fastened round their necks. Otherwise each was naked and her feminine charms available for any of the dozens of pairs of lust-filled eyes to feast on.
It had all started a couple of weeks before. The Friday sessions had become a way of life, as several weeks and many dozens of stripes after Jenny had first experienced the joys of being a Friday girl, she had squirmed on her usual stool, enjoying the company of her friends and the exquisite warm smart of the cuts Henry had applied a little earlier. They had been unbearable when they fell but had matured and tempered with time to a comforting sense of justice done and forgiveness received, not to speak of sexual passion aroused with the promise of hot exciting satisfaction to come.
On that occasion though, the three girls were sitting on their striped Friday bottoms, contemplating their futures with less than their usual enthusiasm. The slightly reserved atmosphere had been occasioned by the news each had had from her partner that evening while they were finishing the minimal dressing permitted to a chastened Friday girl.
She herself had had her head through the rucked up mini-dress when Henry had said quite casually, "We had a challenge from the chaps at the Bull yesterday. I've put you down to represent the Trident. Tom and George are nominating those other two witches you hang about with. Do you all a power of good to exercise a little fortitude on behalf of the Tridents."
Beyond establishing that he was referring to some kind of kind of match between teams of three women from each pub, and that the events would be very physical and probably not only hugely embarrassing but seriously painful too she got little more from him. She got more answers at the Trident.
"What sort of competitions are they?" she had wanted to know, once she had established that each of the others had had the same not particularly welcome intelligence.
"Another local tradition for you," Renee had explained. "From time to time a team from one of the Sexton locals will be pitched against the girls of another. Sort of sports day kind of thing, but rather unique kinds of events."
"After what I've learnt in a few short months round here, I can believe it, but what sort of events? More caning for my poor backside I suppose," she hazarded gloomily, "I'm the first to acknowledge that we women need it regularly and there are compensations too, you know, bedtime and all that," and she even managed a small blush, "but Christ, I'm like raw meat down there already. I don't really fancy getting some more."
"Oh, it doesn't usually come down to rods at dawn," Laura had assured her, "much more interesting things than that, though I have to warn you, at least as painful most of the time."
"So what kind of things?" she repeated.
<
br /> "Up to the challengers to list three events and the challenged to offer three of their own," Renee obliged.
"You mean we have to think up three particularly nasty things to do, ourselves?"
"Well, not us," Laura had explained, "naturally the girls don't get any say in this. It's up to our lords and masters to set the rules. We just have to do and die, though we are sometimes given the opportunity to suggest something to the men that they hadn't thought of. Actually they quite encourage it, knowing we are even more likely than them to understand how to get under a woman's skin," she added brightly.
"You're right," Renee had agreed, "Well, we'll show 'em. Let's pick something really punishing and make those Bulls Head bitches wish they were somewhere else before the night is out."
It never seemed to have entered their heads that they might find it too much themselves. Their only thought appeared to be to put these upstart women in their place and show them who was boss round here. She could only shake her head in wonder, but she had gone along with them as they planned their strategy for this Bitches Grand Prix. Even later, when she had had time to consider her apprehension was more than countered by excitement and a determination that their side was going to win.
So here she was, standing naked in front of the packed hall, flanked by her friends and opposite a trio of equally attractive, and equally bare, women representing the home team. Henry was with the other men in privileged front seats by virtue of providing the entertainment. If she had thought to have been spared the coming ordeal by her partner relenting she was disappointed. Henry had grinned from ear to ear each time the coming event was mentioned and promised her a reward if they won, an incentive made even stronger by the promise of the father and mother of a caning if they lost.
As a neutral, Fred, the landlord of the Silent Woman had handed the bar over to an assistant for the night and agreed to act as umpire for the event and now he called the expectant crowd to order by announcing the first event,
"I won't waste your time by making you listen to me any longer than you have to," he began. "You've come to watch bitches do battle so let's get on with this bare-arsed, knock 'em down and drag 'em out, no holds barred cat-fight between the challengers, the Bitches from the Bull, on my right, (Loud cheers) and the Trident Witches, on my left." (Even louder applause). "Round one," he announced. "Individual tit tug o' war. Who's going first for you girls?"
They had worked it out beforehand. She hadn't done this sort of thing before, so Renee, their unofficial captain, would open, Laura would close, and she'd be sandwiched in the middle with a view of the first pair to warn her what to expect, but not carrying the responsibility of last girl in though. However, by the rules they would have to rotate the order as the night progressed, so that all had a fair crack of the whip, as Fred jovially termed it!
The arrangements were simple. Two lengths of cord, passing through a common steel ring, such as might ordinarily carry keys, and bearing on each end one of the ubiquitous clamps she was beginning to both expect and fear. Nasty little toothed devices with a built in toggle mechanism which ensured that the harder the pull on the cord the tighter the jaws would grip. Painful enough from the start when applied to delicate female parts, becoming unbearable as the pull and the pressure increased but ensuring that there was never any possibility of even the slightest relief by slipping, only extra torment to be endured.
Each contestant kicked off her shoes, heels were hardly practical for this event however sexily they shaped their legs, and applied the clamps to her own teats, adjusting them carefully to try and minimise the hurt while ensuring that they were securely on. If they were to come adrift due to improper positioning, the match was forfeit and the discomfort endured would have been all in vain. Once satisfied with her nipple clips each girl then placed her hands behind her back to indicate she was ready and one of the many men eager to assist, placed handcuffs on her wrists to ensure they stayed there.
The contestants were manoeuvred into place either side of a white line painted from front to back of the small stage and the signal to begin was given. At once each girl leant back to take up the slack and apply pressure to the other girl's tender teats. The length of the cords was such that they stood a yard either side of the mark and each tried to exert enough pressure to drag her opponent over the line while enduring the painful grip on her own delicate nubbins. The arrangement of cords ensured that each teat on each girl had to endure the same pull and pressure and it was a matter of who could stand the crushing squeeze on their sore dugs the longest without giving ground to ease the unbearable agony in the tender gristly peaks.
It seemed they were equally matched in strength and endurance. For several minutes the only movement was the stretching of their mammaries as each increased and resisted the pressure. They were evenly matched physically. Renee sported a pair of large firm breasts, with prominent nipples, thick high buttons when at rest, now elongated and flattened by the pitiless pull of the clamps, while her opponent carried equally formidable globes and appurtenances in comparable crushed condition. As the minutes passed each girl began to groan under the strain of the agony in their breasts and beads of sweat stood out on their naked bodies. Renee was moving her head from side to side slowly, making little animal grunts; her opponent had her mouth open and a small thin keening came from her tightened throat.
So far neither had gained an inch, despite the shouts of encouragement from their supporters and calls to heave the bitch over or tear the tits off her. The girl from the Bull was first to try and break the deadlock. With an audible intake of breath to prepare herself, she threw her weight back, dragging a scream from her own lips, and an answering cry from Renee, who gave ground, her stockinged feet now six inches from the line. But she held it and the attacker became the attacked as she ran out of steam to sustain the self-imposed torture of her stressed tits. She relaxed her effort, seeking to stabilise the situation and consolidate her territorial advantage but Renee was having none of it. As soon as she felt the other girl relax the remorseless pressure on their suffering mammaries, she threw herself backwards, forcing a shriek from her opponent to match the shrill scream with which she had launched the new attack, and carrying her forward. This time there was no relief. Caught off balance by the unexpectedly quick counter-attack, the other girl was still screaming as Renee hauled her across the line and collapsed to her knees from the effort.
Watching Renee in action, the number two of the Trident team felt her belly crawl, and her nipples harden at the sight. The butterflies in her stomach were hardly quietened by Renee's moans as the clips were prised from her tit meat, or the sight of the terrible tooth marks that had all but bitten through those tender points. Now it was her own turn to taste their bite and she went forward with a weakness in her knees, fighting a desire to cover her nipples with her hands to protect them from the same fate. Actually she was proud of her breasts, and with good reason; nice tight cones of succulent flesh crowned with very prominent teats of a dark pink; appetising morsels for a man's mouth, or a girl's come to that. No, she would have walked proudly, throwing them out deliberately if it was just a matter of exposing them to public gaze, but those teeth! Ah that was something different and instinctively she shielded them with trembling fingers until the last moment.
When she finally could cover them no longer and had to offer her pert gristly nubbins to the hungry steel jaws, she found the clips were all that she had feared, and more. She rolled her left dug carefully between the fingers of one hand, holding the hated clip in the other, until her nipple erected and she could place the jaws close to its base where it met the slightly darker circle of the areola. She pulled firmly on it to ensure maximum extension, both to ease the pain to come, Renee had advised her that it was tenderest on the tip, and to make sure it did not disqualify her by slipping off during the contest.
Try as she might to set them in place without causing hers
elf unbearable pain, she was panting and gasping even before the contest proper began. Although they were designed to maintain their hold by increasing their grip in proportion to the pull on them, the clips also carried a venomous initial bite which was enough to have her flinch as she let the jaws close on each tender nipple, shaking her head, and biting her lip to keep herself from ripping them from her delicate points and fleeing the stage.
Finally it was done, and she put her hands behind her for the cuffs and the feeling of helplessness they brought. A woman with her hands fastened behind her is peculiarly vulnerable and she was very conscious of her position. Only then did she have time to consider her opponent. Somehow she was unprepared for the look of pain on the girl's face, but she had been too much distracted by her own aching tits to fully realise that the other girl was hurting just as much.
The MC called them to take up the strain and she winced anew. If the initial bite was tough, even the slightest extra pull on the cords sent shock waves of pain through her tender teats and into the stretched meat of her breasts. She tried to brace herself against the pain to come. As the MC gave the command to pull she sent her weight backwards and fairly howled at the agony it produced. She set her teeth and, moaning and hissing, tried to resist the inexorable pressure, her tortured nipples crying out for relief, praying for even just a second's relaxation. Instinctively she moved her feet forward half a step towards the line. There were cheers from the Bull's supporters, and groans from her own, as she teetered on the edge of defeat. With a despairing cry she set her feet firmly and tried to off-balance her opponent by throwing her weight back suddenly but the damage to her own aching breasts was too much. The strain of the pull was drawing them out into unflattering stretched cones, the pretty buds of her teats flattened out of recognition. As she tried to hold her ground the girl from the Bull counter-attacked and, with both girls screaming hoarsely, dragged her onto her toes and, keeping up the assault, over-balanced her so that she had to step forward to avoid falling. Fred, the MC held up his hand and it was all over. Well not quite all. As she wept in mortification at her defeat, Renee released the cuffs from her wrists and loosed the clips from her throbbing dugs. She whimpered in pain as the blood ran back into the tortured flesh of the crushed points.
Painful Prize Page 9
