Boudica Pt. 13-1

Louetta here. This is Boudica Part 13. Everybody mentioned in this story is at least eighteen.

I tend to use the same words in all my stories, e.g. calling my snatch my girlhood or my bunny hole. So if you see my words in other stories don't think I copied them, I wrote them. My stories all have the same pattern: girl gets naked, tied up, screwed or otherwise used, and everything ends happily.

So far in this series I'm working in Amsterdam at a BDSM club with my Dutch cousins. My goal is to get into video and film work and I need to get experience performing in the nude, doing sex scenes, and BDSM-type work. My first project was to take up strip-teasing at the club. What better way to get used to performing in the nude before an audience. Also, I've come across members of the German BDSM organization Das Erwachen who can help me learn how to do their kind of scenes.

I've made some progress in engaging in various sex scenes which I know I'll have to do to advance my screen career. But the biggest break I've had came about because of the stripping. My shows are always sold out and I've made a lot of money for the club. I've now been rewarded with my own apartment, a hotel suite really, in Amsterdam near the BDSM club so I can work late and have a safe place to sleep and take my meals. One of my brothers and my cousin Eefje went with me to see my new room and help me move in.

My new place was at the Hotel Doria, on Damstraat, about five doors down from the Dunkin' Donuts, if you know the area. To get to the club from there you keep on going past Dunkin', across the canal and then left and up to the second canal crossing to the Red Light District near where the club is. The club is a club, of course, not a whorehouse, but that's a good location for it because tourists interested in sex shows, strip acts and things, go to that area to find them. Actually, I don't have to walk to and from the club. We don't want people following me late at night, finding out where I live, or propositioning me on the street after my shows.

Anyway, we arrived at the Hotel and I checked in for an extended stay. Probably all summer. The building was about five stories high, with a penthouse sort of thing on top, typical of many smaller European hotels. On the bottom floor was a pizzeria, which was excellent. I wanted someplace casual to eat. There was also an Espresso bar with seating above. Also great.

My room was on the third floor on the front, which is actually called the second floor. I could have sat at the window for hours watching the people in the street below me, especially at night. Fascinating. The street was narrow, few cars, just pedestrians and bicycles. Bicycles were everywhere in the city. My space was nice, large, a suite arrangement with a separate sitting room and a bedroom, a galley-style kitchen, and a bathroom, of course. The decor was white.

My brother was fascinated by my room. My bed was a queen size and there were bondage cuffs at the four corners and two small black cameras in the upper corners of the room, so I could be filmed while getting fucked. There were fixtures attached to the beam that ran across the ceiling in the sitting room so I could be suspended by my wrists and flogged. There was a post at the back of the sitting room to which I could be bound. The shower in the bathroom was square and in a corner. The two shower walls that extended into the room were not walls at all, but clear glass doors that could be spread apart, so I could be filmed showering. One last camera would show me washing up or toweling off and, as it turned out, inserting a tampon. All of this was sent in real-time to the club to offer amusement from ten PM to two for paying guests and staff in the club's video room and for free in my boss's office for him and his VIP guests.

In the afternoon we went sunbathing. It was twenty-five degrees (about seventy-eight), and sunny, pretty good for Amsterdam. We went right in the city center, laying out on a series of docks right off the grassy lawn near one of the museums. Since it was a weekday there were few people there, mostly girls. About half the girls were topless and just about everyone wore a thong bottom. It was excellent. My brother enjoyed seeing the girls, including me and Eefje, almost naked. Of course he had seen every bit of us before at the club and a few other places. Afterwards, we ate at the pizza joint in my hotel and it was time for Eefje and I to go to work.

In recent chapters, I described how I had participated in a scene to advance my acting career where I would have a train run upon me, but it did not come off when it developed that the train was to be run on my bottom. I was an anal virgin and fled the scene with the club boss's administrative assistant Erika, just before the boss arrived to do the both of us. Both Erika and I expected some sort of retribution for backing out, as it were, of the planned anal adventure.

At first everything was normal, but the boss was convinced that we had had help in our escape from the penthouse bedroom where we had been confined for the train and wanted to know who the traitor in his organization was. In fact, we hadn't had help, we just managed to sneak away when he detoured into the penthouse kitchen to get a midnight snack before coming up to the bedroom to do us. We were questioned the next day and knew he had not accepted our denials, but for several days nothing else happened. Now it did.

Our BDSM club was composed of two parts. One part was open to the public and consisted of a restaurant, a couple of bars, a dancing floor, the main function room in which I stripped, and smaller rooms where various entertainments took place, music, singers and light BDSM. My female cousins did some of the light BDSM work which included bondage demonstrations, tickling tied-up girls, nude wrestling, light whippings, stretching girls on a rack, water tortures, modified crucifixions, tiger bench ordeals, hanging girls upside-down, other stuff I've forgotten. The only requirements to work were to be young, pretty, have a nice rack and be willing to get naked. The private part of the club was members only and had food and drink and the heavier BDSM stuff. That is the stuff I wanted to learn how to do.

For several weeks now I had been negotiating for a chance to begin doing some of the tougher BDSM entertainment. I needed that experience to advance my acting career. At first the boss was reluctant, not wanting to risk putting his featured eighteen-year-old stripper out of commission through injury. But, after the anal train incident, he began to think he could extract the name of the supposed traitor who had helped us escape via having me tortured in BDSM scenes. So that night I arrived at the club to find my late-night work assignment was to provide entertainment for the boss's invited guests. I figured he'd have me do a striptease, but instead I was to perform a BDSM scene.

I knew I was ready. Also, everyone who had seen me strip admired my body, for my conventional female attributes but also the apparent physical toughness my swimming and weight training had given me. What remained to be proven is whether I had the mental toughness necessary to withstand what often amounted to torture, or close to it. Of course everything was voluntary and, as far as I could see, they followed all the accepted BDSM protocols for safety, with pre-agreed written descriptions of what scenes involved and medical and routine aftercare provided.

The people who actually organized the serious BDSM stuff were members of a German BDSM organization called Das Erwachen, which means the awakening or arousal. I was fascinated by the women. Most were young, pretty, had nice bodies and were tough as nails, as evidenced by their performance in the scenes. Given the uniformly attractive appearance of the women, it also appeared, to me, that, at least for females, looks counted too.

My boss turned to a particularly sexy Erwachen girl known as Tilly. She was short, black hair not down to her shoulders, a dark tan, all over it turned out, very pretty with an athletic body. The model Erwachen girl. My cousin Eefje told me Tilly did the best scenes, cursing her torturers as they seemingly did what they pleased to her body.

My boss wanted Tilly to design for me an introductory scene which would maximize my embarrassment and cause me pain without putting me out of commission to do my regular job. It also should appeal to the fantasies of his guests from the Eastern part of Europe who rarely got to see a girl anywhere near being naked and would appreciate some kind of slave punishment routine. Tilly suggested a forced stripping followed by a simple bum whipping which would leave my bottom red but unmarked and fully able to continue stripping the following evening. The boss agreed and so did I. Seemed like a good BDSM introduction.

So, at ten minutes to midnight I was waiting in the bunny room, still dressed in my stripper's outfit. Four Erwachen men entered and ordered me to strip to my black garter belt and hose and don a scullery maid's shift. Two burly guys bound my wrists tightly behind me, looped a rope around my neck and bound my ankles half a meter apart so I couldn't run. I was roughly moved out into the corridor toward the elevator which took us up to the VIP area on the penthouse floor.

En route I learned a new lesson, how to handle rough treatment as part of a scene outside of the actual punishment. I was, after all, a prisoner under sentence. Two guys on either side of me held my upper arms tightly. Several times I almost stumbled because my ankles were tied so closely. Someone held taut the end of the rope tied tightly around my neck. I barely had to act as if I were a reluctant participant. But it was a marvelous feeling, the fear I felt growing inside me, knowing I was going to be tied up and whipped.

Coming off the elevator and entering the penthouse I heard the buzz of conversation from the crowd of two dozen guests waiting in the warm summer air on the porch. There were a number of tables, each with the remnants of a late supper. Uniformed waiters took and filled orders for alcohol from those not in Far Eastern garb. In the back I recognized a half dozen of the bouncers and bar men I worked with every night.

In the front was a stage, brightly lit from above and with footlights across the front whose glare would prevent me from seeing those who had come to see me tortured. In the center was the whipping frame. Two metal posts supported two horizontal bars, one eight feet up from which two cuffs hung open, ready to receive my wrists, another two feet high to which my lower thighs would be bound, legs spread well apart, to hold my lower body in place so the whip would find its target. Next to the frame stood Tilly, naked except for the same black garter belt and stockings I wore.

The room went silent as I was dragged up onto the stage. Off came my shift, the cuffs were put on my wrists and my body pulled up to its full length, my feet were spread wide and my legs tied to the lower bar. I looked out at these people waiting to see me whipped half to death and I got even hornier just thinking about being there, almost naked and completely helpless. I had been whipped before just messing around and had some idea at least of what I was getting into and it turned me on tremendously. I knew I could enjoy being hurt. Done right, the feel of a whip landing on my bare ass would make me crave more and more. Tilly came to me, fingering my hair, gathering it off my breasts, feeling me up gently. Then she went behind me. I saw the boss give a signal. I prayed for strength. I closed my eyes and heard the whistle of the whip moving through the air and felt the first strike against the snow-white skin of my bottom.

She started gently, slowly, deliberately, warming up my bum. She made me wait a bit, knowing the most exquisite part of being beaten could be waiting for it to begin. Little by little, harder and harder, minute by minute, second by second, waiting for the whip to fall. Feeling the fear in the pit of your stomach, and I felt it. The fire in your loins and I felt that too. The sweat under your arms, the feel of the ropes. Then she started hitting me harder. I struggled with all my might to loosen the cuffs that held my wrists high above me. She hit me harder and harder and then seemingly as hard as she could. My nearly naked body jerked forward. I swore under my breath. Then I swore out loud.

Now I screamed when she hit me, again and again in the same place, right across my bare ass. Again and again, and I knew I had to be strong and I promised I wouldn't cry out. I had to take this. I screwed my eyes shut and tried to talk to myself to make the pain go away, but I started to cry out again. Now the blows came faster. She kept on and on and I screamed more and more and my breath started to come harder and I couldn't recover in between strokes in time for the next one. My body jerked forward each time and I tried to twist to either side, but it didn't work because the whip just wrapped around my bum and I couldn't believe the pain I was in. I started to cry and my ass was on fire and my body writhed with the pain and I was pleading to God to help me and cursing my own body for causing me all this pain. I tried desperately to keep my mouth shut but I couldn't, I pleaded, I screamed, I cried. My whole body tightened in self-defense as I tried to steel myself against the next blow.

I started to have trouble getting my breath, just like I had felt when I was hung from my wrists to be crucified. The more she hit me the harder it was to get enough air. The more my breasts heaved the less air I got. My whole body was taut and sweating. I started to get fuzzy in the head. Things started to bounce around in my brain and went from side to side. I was half dead already and she'd only hit me on my ass and then I suddenly went limp and just kind of collapsed and hung from my ropes and she hit me a few more times and then things went grey and then black and I guess I passed out.

At any rate, the next thing I knew she had stopped hitting me and I was lying on the floor and Tilly was trying to get me to drink some water. I was still almost naked and I felt the softness of her bare breasts against mine as she held the water bottle up to my face and I welcomed some tenderness. Soon I was at least aware of what was happening to me. I hurt just about everywhere, but mostly I could feel the pain of my ass burning. At length I felt some better. I could smell food cooking and I was starving. They gave me a plate with some pieces of chicken and Tilly stayed with me, feeding me the chicken in little bites. Then she took me down to the bunny room and after a while I got dressed and one of the guys took me home to my new apartment on a motorcycle.

I sat in the Espresso bar and had a drink. There were still a few people about even though it was near three in the morning. Finally I went to my room and stripped and showered and dried myself and put my robe on over my naked body and sat at the window watching the people going about below, oblivious to the time of day. Or night, that is. I thought about how my first real scene had gone. I couldn't count it a success, I didn't think anyway. Maybe people wanted to see me collapse in a heap. For me it wasn't all bad. I loved the way the whip burned my soft white bum, and loved even more the sexual part, how the cool fire of desire started inside me as I felt the pain of the whip on my helpless body. How it started more inside me, more in the lower part of my tummy than in my cunt, and then spread downward and then turned into the familiar good feelings between my legs. Loved how my breathing stood still and my body exploded when she hit me just when I was ready.

I didn't have a whip handy, but I had my right hand already between my thighs. As I worked on myself the pain I still felt all over gradually subsided and I came so hard I was limp afterward. Then I fell into bed naked and slept as soundly as I ever did in my room back home.