Atonement Session Ch. 01

Then she turned and commanded the studio crew to remove the prisoners' gags. If they were going to survive the next few minutes, then they needed to be have access to all of their lungpower. It also meant that their screams would no longer be muffled and their agony would echo throughout the studio chamber.

Alert studio technicians quickly punched the live show's rating from "X" to "XXX" in a heartbeat. It was better to be safe than sued. Across the country, some media markets went dark.

Vortex nodded. She expected this, she knew this, she had deliberately avoided this. After all, these men had only anally raped Chloe once each. Although Chloe had been an anal virgin at the time of her rape, Vortex had frequent anal sex now and found that she quite enjoyed it - with a considerate partner. But the Mistress commands and the slave obeys. Previously, Vortex had merely been causing these men pain, any real damage had been incidental. But that phase was now past. Now Vortex was instructed to destroy them. Vortex obeyed.

Whipmaster Kim, the man who had trained her to use the whip, was in the audience. Vortex didn't know that. He didn't want to be a distraction for her. She was quite possibly the best student he had ever trained and, at this point in his legendary career, that was high praise indeed. When Harriette first contacted him, he had been skeptical. It was his job to teach free men and women how to whip slaves properly - just the right amount of pain, just the right amount of damage - to fit the intended punishment. In untrained hands, the bull whip was an implement of brutality. In trained hands, it was an instrument of art. He had never trained a slave to use one. It was the ultimate symbol of a slaver's authority.

He found the girl a pleasure to teach. She was intelligent, attentive, focused, and determined. Before her enslavement, she had been an Ivy League dance major. She had years of training in ballet, hip-hop, modern dance, and so on. She had also been a rhythmic gymnast, prancing on the mat while twirling a long floaty ribbon on a stick.

It was this rhythmic gymnastics training that had had the biggest effect on her signature style... and yes, this slave - this girl - she had her own signature style. Usually a whipmaster doesn't develop a signature style for years, if ever. Most simply carry on as they have been trained by their masters. Whipmaster Kim only spent 12 weeks training this girl. Normal training sessions were twice daily, an hour long, followed by a rest period, and then another hour of self-directed practice. It was during one of these self-directed practice sessions that Master Kim discovered what she was using this time for... she was dancing. With her whip!

At first, he had been outraged. She had VERY specific instructions!

She was to spend the time on target practice and... there they were. The targets had all been set up, just as he instructed.

The dancing girl whirled the whip around herself in the air, never letting it touch the ground and then she struck... whip-crack! Over and over again, she struck the targets with unerring accuracy, spinning in place as her body moved to music that only she could hear. It was one of the few times in his life that a student surprised him... one of the few times in his life that a student impressed him. And it was a slave girl who did so.

Now, on the studio floor, Vortex raised her whip again and... she danced.

It was a dance of sorrow, it was a dance of pain, it was a dance of loss... it was a dance of vengeance. No longer was she intending to cause these men pain... their pain meant nothing to her.

No longer was she intending to give the VIP audience a show... their enjoyment meant nothing to her. The Vortex danced the dance of pain because that is who she was, that is who she had become. She had truly become "The Vortex". It was her identity now and it would remain her identity for years to come.

She simply abandoned her memories of Chloe's feelings, Chloe's reservations, Chloe's morality, and... The Vortex danced.

Her body moved with the grace of a ballet dancer and the whip never stopped. It whirled and twirled and suddenly The Vortex would lunge forward, and her chosen canvas would jolt from the impact as she tore another bloody strip from its back. No longer did she allow the whip to slither on the floor between strikes, it was airborne at all times. No longer did she wait for the creature to stop thrashing and swinging before striking again. A fine spray of blood began to surround her on the studio floor as her bloodied whip whirled about her while she prepared for each strike.

When The Vortex stopped dancing, her canvases - they were not victims, they not subjects, they were just canvases for her Art - had stopped moving entirely. They simply hung limply from their chains. She returned to her ready position and watched impassively, breathing the deep slow breaths of a resting athlete as the slave nurses and the water-bearers rushed forward and revived the canvases. The two dangling things began thrashing and screaming again as she critically observed the results of her Art. She had missed a spot on one canvas and three spots on the other one.

Mistress Harriette, her Sun and Stars, carefully inspected her work and then helpfully marked the spots she had missed with a marker. "Whip-CRACK," she fixed the first one. Then, "whip-CRACK, whip-CRACK, whip-CRACK," she fixed the second one.

One final time the Slave Nurses and the water-bearers rushed forward, and the wounds were cleaned and inspected. This time they passed muster. Pink-tinged salt water circled around the drains beneath the hanging objects and the Mistress's honor was satisfied.

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End of XXX-Rated Whipping Scene

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Without turning around to look at her audience, without bothering to ask permission, the demon-pony tossed her whip into a pink-tinged puddle of salt water and walked out of the studio, threading her way through the emergency medical crews curating her artworks.

Mistress Harriette, on the other hand, was not able to ignore the audience. She was of them, she was from them, she was a free person, she was human.

The Sheriff was standing with his hands on his hips, surveying the scene, nodding with grim approval. Two of the deputies behind him had disappeared, perhaps to "freshen up." In fact, a third of the audience had left the room entirely. Of those who remained, some looked ill, some looked pleased, and some were even aroused. None of them appeared to be bored, though. In spite of the hard-working ventilation system, there was a scent of vomit in in the air.

Mortie still sat next to his husband, his face entirely drained of color, ad he was clutching his husband's arm. The former pop star's head was still in his lap, but it was clear that she was accomplishing nothing at all except hiding her face from the horror behind her. The President, on the other hand... he was VERY pleased. He thought he was going to meet some stupid prairie hillbilly rancher cunt, but he had instead discovered a slaving genius. She had purchased a young rape victim and transformed her into an exquisitely-trained weapon of destruction in only 12 weeks. It was impressive and there was potential here. This was a woman he needed to form an alliance with. Sometimes, when one was a businessman, one needed to do distasteful things. Like treating a woman like an equal.

On the other hand, she owned a VERY pretty slave boy. One of the Evil Pony Minions had a penis. Not a tiny, shriveled thing, like most femboys had, but an actual cock. He found that intriguing and he wanted to know more.

Of course, the most important thing was that this show was going to be ratings gold - on the Slavery XXX Channel.

Mr. Smith had seen a lot of whippings in his four-year career at the Slavery Channel, but this one was new. He had seen quite a few dominatrixes before, but he had never seen a demon-pony dominatrix. And he had NEVER witnessed a whipping quite like that. He started to seriously consider that job offer from the new Canadian media company, the Yukon Broadcasting Company. He had heard that Canadians were polite. Maybe he needed to check that out.

Kylie the slave announcer just stood rooted in place with her mouth open. The microphone had fallen from her hand and it lay in a small puddle of urine at her feet. Her butt jewel lay on the studio floor behind her. Fortunately, she had just been given an enema on the last break as the studio slave handlers prepared her for service at the VIP afterparty. As it was, the video of her physical reaction quickly found its way onto the Internet and became a very popular reaction meme. She had just achieved her Hollywood dream. She wanted to be famous, and she wanted everyone to know her name. Her dream had finally come true, she just didn't know it yet.

Harriette surveyed the scene at a glance and made her decision. She walked over to the Kylie and asserted authority over her. "Slave!" she barked, "Pick those up."

Startled into action, Kylie immediately knelt and picked up the soiled microphone and butt jewel. Burning with shame and still in a fugue state, she raised the microphone toward Harriette's face.

Kylie was rescued by Mr. Smith who quickly approached and lifted his own mic, pushing her urine-soaked microphone aside. "Well, well, well, that was quite the show! Quite the show, quite the show! What happens next?"

Mistress Harriette smiled at him. He had just become a person in her eyes. His swift move in saving the slave girl from yet another painful mistake made her like him. As a prominent slaver, she needed to project an image of unimpeachable authority at all times. If the girl had actually managed to put that urine-soaked microphone to Harriette's face, another punishment would surely have followed. Harriette genuinely liked pretty young girls, and she liked this one. She didn't want to have to punish her again. Maybe later, in the privacy of her hotel room. She would ask if she could borrow the girl for the night.

"I believe that concludes our business here today," she said. "The after party is in the Sam Houston Ballroom. Refreshments will be served."

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End Chapter 01: Next up, the after party. There will be some spankings, oral and anal sodomy, and some shaving. Also, purely for insurance purposes, someone will need to take close-up photos of a couple of hymens.