Article 17 Pt. 02

This is Part 2 (please read part 1 for backstory), again purely fictional, hope you enjoy, welcome any comments or feedback.

xxxxxx

I was taken down a long dark corridor, at the end was a door leading down some stone steps down to a single barred cell. Inside was a sparsely furnished bedroom with a basic ensuite. I collapsed in the bed and uncomfortably slept.

Day 1 am

When I woke I had no idea of the time. The only light in the room was a simple bedside, I switched in on and went to the en suite. I showered, the warm water soothing on my skin except for between my legs which were still red raw from last night's whipping. I washed, gently, and returned to bed, then lie there for hours contemplating my decision. Surely this was illegal, surely I could just front them out and end this. But then they would certainly out me as a cheat and remove my title, even if just out of spite, and what the hell had I signed? Was it legally binding? Shit!

I'm snapped out of my dilemmas by the door above me creaking open, followed by heavy footsteps of the guard. I watch his black leather boots clump down the stairs. They stop outside my cell doors, I'm still looking at the boots.....

"Morning" He says

I look up nervously, he has a tray in his hands, he opens a section of the cell and passes it through. I take it off him suddenly aware how hungry I am.

"I'll be back for you later" he says in a matter of fact way, and turns and stomps up the stairs and out of the cell room.

I take the food, it's simple pastries and fruit but I eat it - partly to satisfy hunger, partly to distract me.

After eating I tried to sleep, but it was impossible, my mind spinning. Seconds, minutes, hours.... all meant nothing, it felt like an eternity, until the door creaked open, when suddenly time fast forwarded to the present.

Again I watch his boots down the steps, it's mesmerising.

This time he throws my bikini set into the cell.

"Put it on" He says

I pick it up - still not meeting his eyes, it's my show bikini. I turn my back to him and put it on gingerly, the bikini fabric feeling rough and grating on my whipped cunt.

"And the shoes"

I forgot about them, I look around the room and see them against the far wall, I walk over and step into them. It fells weird to be dressed just as I was for the competition, yet in a cell awaiting god knows what....

He unlocks the cell, holding a pair of cuffs in his hands.

"Wrists" He says sternly.

I lift my wrists a little, not making it easy for him and he grabs the and lifts them up roughly cuffing one then the other.

He pushes me up the stairs, the action alone rubs my pussy painfully.

Back into the long dark corridor, I shiver, but am not sure if it's cold or whether it's just nerves. I walk awkwardly in front of the guard trying to ease the rubbing of my bikini on the reddened flesh of my pussy. The guard stops me in front of a door, he opens it and guides me in.

Inside is a large crucifix cross, standing next to it the finance director, with the same evil grin on his face as when he suggested 'article 17'.

Ignoring me completely he instructs the guard.

"Put her in position"

The guard pulls me over to the cross backing me against it. He undoes my cuffs and loops my arms over the beam behind me. I consider resisting, but his grip is so strong I know I couldn't stop him. He pulls my wrists together and attaches them to the central beam. It's uncomfortable, pulling my shoulders back......but more worryingly, thrusting my tits out. He leans down and wraps a heavy strap fixed to the beam around my legs just above my knees. I can't move.

The finance director walks up to me, he strokes my cheek with his palm, but there is no tenderness in his cold severe eyes.

"How is your pussy." He asks

"How do you think" I reply snappily

He reaches down and grabs my crotch, I wince which he seems to enjoy, then he roughly rubs me through my bikini bottoms. I whimper and try to close my legs to stop him but to little effect.

"Im glad you have a reminder of your punishment, let's see if I can give you something else to think about."

He reaches behind and undoes the bow of my bikini top behind my neck. It's more difficult for him to undo the one behind my back, I make it as difficult as possible without making it obvious but he succeeds and I watch my bikini top fall away from my breasts.

He runs his fingers over my nipples.

"Lovely erect nipples." He says

"It's cold in here" I mumble, still not sure if it is or not.

"Well let's see if we can warm you up." He says and turns his back to me. He takes his jacket off and walks over to a wall when he turns his back he has a thin leather belt in his hand.

He positions himself to my side, takes aim, then whips me across both my tits. I gasp in pain and glare over at him, it wasn't a good idea, he just grins back

"50, to match your pussy whipping."

I fight against my bonds, it's pointless, I'm reminded so when the belt whips across my tits again.

I clench my teeth and look forward, trying to zone out.....it doesn't work and I'm soon yelling out at each cruel strike.

The worst are the ones that catch my nipples they hurt like mad.

After a while, I guess halfway, he swaps sides to stand to my right. I look down at my tits, the skin is red, my right tit especially red.

"Halfway." He announces inspecting my breasts. "Think we're doing ok, but I want to make extra sure you are going to remember your tit whipping."

He turns to the wall again and this time comes back with a longer, thinner whip. He takes a further step back and......whoosh.

The whip is far more painful than the belt, cutting into my flesh.

I lose count of the whips, my tits are on fire, each whip a painful stinging pain. Towards the end I'm crying out and stamping my feet with each strike.

Finally, the whipping stops and the finance director puts the whip down and steps in front of me. He inspects my breasts, satisfied with the angry red stripes crossing my tits, he cups them in each hand and squeezes them tightly, enjoying my grimace of pain. He then pinches my nipples hard.

"Aaahhhh!" I moan

"Now......tell me......will you remember, your tit whipping, slut?" Twisting my nipples

"Yes, yes I will." I pant desperately.

"Good" He says and slides a hand down the front of my bikini bottoms. I clench automatically as he rubs my pussy, but not roughly like before, he lightly strokes his finger tips, gently exploring. He slides his index finger slowly up and down my slit, it doesn't hurt, his finger slides easily and readily.....oh god no! I realise my pussy is wet. Instinctively I try to clench my legs together but I can't. He smiles back at me, his finger now parting my lips.

"I'm so glad you chose article 17, I had a feeling you would"

He eases his finger inside of me, I try desperately not to react, I don't want to give him any satisfaction, but I'm embarrassingly wet. He continues to finger me and I hate him for it, I hate the humiliation of being wet, of him thinking he's turning me on......but something else....I hate the frustration of him not touching my clit, I could come so easily.

He withdraws his finger, proudly holding it up in front of me, I hate him even more.

"Tut tut!" He says, "who's a slutty girl then?"

I feel my face blush a blend of embarrassment and anger.

He puts his finger in my mouth making me taste my own juices, I'm tempted to bite down on it, but I don't, I can't bear the thought of another whipping.

"You may return her to her cell until we've finished our meeting. " And after a final smug and satisfied grin he leaves the room.

Day 1 evening

I lay restlessly in my cell, unable to sleep. My tits were sore preventing me lying comfortably and my pussy was still tender, but it was the memory of getting wet that haunted me most. I tell myself it was just be a natural reaction, not arousal, but I can't escape the knowledge that I wanted to cum. I consider masturbating, an orgasm would be a great release, but I force myself not to, it would only add to my humiliation.

The guard flings open the door, I jump, having not noticed him approaching down the corridor. He tosses in a new bikini set into the cell, its identical to my own, along with a bag containing some basic make up items..

"The meeting is nearly finished, I'll be back in 20 minutes"

Meeting? What fucking meeting? I remember The finance director saying something about tonight but it's all a blur, my mind distracted with the punishment and my wetness.....Stop it I chide myself, I need to stay in control to get through this.

I put the bikini on, I really can't be bothered with the make up, but as a token gesture to avoid unnecessarily antagonising them I put on a bit of mascara and lipstick. The 20 minutes feel like 20 hours when finally the door opens. The guard unlocks the cell door and leads me out of the cell and the heavy door, the guard ushers me in front of him and i walk down the long corridor, the sounds of my heels clicking on the stone floor echoing down the long passage. We reach the door at the end.

"The board have just finished their meeting, they want you to serve them drinks"

"What like a waitress?"

"Well yeah, except of course you're here under different circumstances." He pushes the door open and the board are all sat in the bar area of the room. I must look uncertain what to do because the guard whispers "I suggest you serve the chairman first."

I walk over as confidently as I can muster.

"Mr Richards can I get you a drink." He starts at me sternly. "Sir?" I add apologetically.

"I'll have a scotch, two cubes, dash of water."

I went over to the bar and guessing at the quantity of scotch and water and bring it back over to mr Richards. I can feel their eyes upon me, all I can think about is being hung upside down and having my cunt whipped last time I was in front of them all, and I avoid the finance directors eye.

I fetch their drinks one by one trying not to engage in any prolonged conversation. There were plenty of errant hands, a hand on my hip, a playful pat on my ass but nothing too lewd initially, then the promotion director asks.

"So how did the tit punishment go?"

"Very good, I was pleased with the end result, I'm sure I left a lasting impression." The finance director replies.

"I'm not sure I want to take your word for it Dan." The technical director says.

"Fine" The finance director replies, and turns to me.

"How was your tit whipping slut?"

I feel my cheeks blush.

"Well how was it?" He prompts

"Umm, very painful" I mumble.

"Yes but how memorable was it?" He replies.

"Just as memorable as the other punishment." I say, hoping it's what he wants to hear.

"Which 'other' punishment are you talking about?" He chides.

"The...um..p-p-pussy whipping." I say looking at the floor.

"Well let's see the proof." The promotions director says, standing up and leading me by the wrist in front of them all.

I stand there frozen as he undoes my bikini top and removes it. They all murmur their approval then one by one inspect my punished tits. The finance director looks at me knowingly,

"She was dripping wet at the end of her whipping, too!"

The bastard I think feeling my cheeks blush.

There are murmurs of approval and discussion amongst the group, I don't catch any of it, maybe I just don't want to hear it. The finance director cups my pussy

"I bet she's getting wet now." He states.

"Please no." I mumble meekly.

He ignores me and unties my bikini bottoms, they drop to the floor. He strokes his finger between my lips just as he did earlier.....again my body betrays me, my slit it slick and wet. He chuckles, they join in. I just want to disappear.

The chairman speaks out.

"Maybe we should let our little slut relieve herself." Which is greeted by nods of approval.

"Clear the table." He instructs me, referring to the large coffee table they'd been using for their drinks. I clear away the empty glasses, glad for some kind of respite. But as soon as the table is clear the chairman says.

"Now, get on the table and make yourself cum." He orders.

"No, no way!" I retort reactively.

The silence is deafening, and intimidating, the chairman breaks it in a clear and stern voice.

"It's not a choice Kate, either do as you are told or I'll have you strung up for another pussy whipping."

I can't bear that, the memory too vivid, my pussy still too sore. They take their seats around the table expectantly, I don't move frozen to the spot.

"Guard" the chairman calls, "fetch the whip and lower the chains"

"No, no, ok, I'll do it" I say.

I tentatively walk to the table and squat down on it. It's low down so my heeled feet are still on the floor with my ass perched on the edge. I nervously move my hand down between my legs which I'd only parted slightly. I touch my pussy, the folds outside my lips still raw from yesterday's whipping. The lightest of touches makes me flinch it's so sensitive. I guide my fingers to my pussy lips, I'm shocked how easily I part them such is my wetness. I start rubbing myself I and down, feeling my fingers getting wetter and wetter. Someone eases my legs apart, I don't resist. I reach my clit, oh god that feels so good. I start rubbing my clit, slick with my own pussy juices. I'm aware of them staring, leering at me, but I start to get lost in a trance - a single minded desire to cum. It's building, I can feel it as I frig myself faster and more urgently, inhibitions and shame no longer in my consciousness. I cum hard, moaning out loud as my whole body is swept along in a tide of pleasure and release.

I'm left laying on my back panting, as the euphoric glow of my orgasm subsided it is replaced and superseded by shame. I open my eyes reluctantly.

"You'll do well to learn to accept any pleasure offered this week." The chairman chides, "or this week is going to be very difficult for you indeed"

I just nod numbly.

"Now get up and I think we could all do with a fresh round of drinks."

For the rest of the night I serve them naked, I daren't ask or presume to be able to put my bikini back on. They mainly ignore me except for when they want drinks. There are several hushed conversations interspersed with malevolent glances at me where I could tell they were discussing what else they had in store for me. Those unheard conversations were what kept me awake long into the night when I'm finally returned to the cell.