Strippers and Prostitutes Ch. 15

"I reckon I could take 50 strokes no problem," said Samantha. "It can't be that bad and I can stand lots of pain. I'm going to do it."

Despite the others urging caution, she asked Rory to whip her, giving details of which whips and where in answer to his questions. From her answers it was obvious to the observers that she wanted a painful session. Rory tied her in place on the frame then chose the first whip, the multi-tailed flogger which he'd recommended as a good warm up. After the second stroke she knew she was in trouble.

Samantha's story:

It was mainly bravado that caused me to volunteer to be beaten. I'd never been whipped before and even my parents had never hit me as a child. I really wanted to see what it was like and thought 50 would be easy to bear. How wrong I was!!

The first stroke hit my back and the pain seared through me. I had never felt pain like it before; never even thought pain could exist at that intensity. I had barely begun to recover when the second blow hit my ass. It stung at first then began a searing pain as though I was sitting on red hot coals, well, as I imagine that would feel as I've never actually done that. I screamed. Then the third stroke hit me, the thongs wrapping around my midriff and the ends stinging the tender skin between my hip and ribs. Another scream. I wanted to look down to see what sort of marks were being left but my head was too full of pain to even do that. Another stroke, another scream, more pain on the other side of my midriff. Then another blow to my ass, which didn't seem to hurt as much as the first one there. Then Rory went around the front and whipped my upper thighs, abdomen and a stroke to each breast. Each blow was followed by an agonized scream, especially the last two on my breasts as my nipples and tender skin burned.

I was thankful that had finished, but I soon realized this was premature relief. The riding crop he used next concentrated the pain in a far smaller area than before. He focussed on my ass cheeks to begin with, then around the front where he whipped my stomach, then breasts and nipples, then the last four strokes of the 20 were between my legs, hitting my tender labia and, worst of all, my clit. I had screamed after each stroke but the strokes to my breasts and pussy were total agony and I screamed and writhed for a good 20 seconds after each stroke. After that was finished and I only had 20 strokes of a single tailed whip to go, I called "Yellow". Rory came around and asked what the problem was so I asked for a moment to let the pain diminish a little. He gave me two minutes.

Gradually the pain decreased and then I saw him pick up the long, single tailed whip. His first stroke was across my back and once again I screamed as I felt the lash cut me. It felt like I was being cut in half with a red hot iron. Before I had anywhere nearly recovered he struck again a little lower. Again I felt the pain and cutting sensation as I screamed and writhed, putting on a great show I have no doubt. I was aware that the crowd had grown and there would have been at least 20 people standing and watching my beating. Another stroke, across my ass this time, followed quickly by three more. He moved lower with two strokes across the backs of my thighs, then a further two across my ass. My voice was hoarse from screaming, my throat hurt, but my back and ass were a sea of pain, stinging, searing, throbbing pain.

Rory came around in front of me and mouthed at me "OK?" to which I nodded. I was determined to see the 50 strokes out. He moved to the side and struck me across my abdomen, twice in quick succession. I screamed several times as the stinging agony washed through me, causing my stomach to heave. He then placed two more across my upper thighs. Six to go, I thought through the red veil of pain. He struck my breasts across both just above the nipples. I screamed and screamed as the impact resonated through me. I had never felt pain like this. As I still writhed in agony he struck again, this time across both breasts below the nipples. My response was the same again. Then he had the inevitable third stroke, hitting both nipples. My hoarse screams echoed around the area as excruciating pain lanced through my breasts and seemed to travel through my torso straight to my pussy. I had barely recovered when he struck me upwards between the legs, the single tail feeling like it was cutting me in half as it sliced across my left labia. He repeated this performance a few seconds later and my right labia was also treated to a slice from the single tail. I had a few seconds to dread the inevitable final stroke before it landed, straight between my labia, directly onto my clit.

There were no words for the pain that raced through my body. I had never felt anything like it. It seemed to echo through my body, from nipples to clit to nipples to clit, becoming larger as it fed on itself and then the impossible happened; I came. If I'd been told that would happen I wouldn't have believed it, but there I was, in absolute agony, cumming from being whipped on my clit. Once that was over, I slumped in my bonds and Rory came to check me then untie me and Fleur helped me walk away to have some cream applied to my wounds.

The four guys and three women had watched dumbfounded as Samantha endured her 50 strokes. They didn't know whether to think she was brave or stupid. They walked behind her as she was helped away by Fleur, then watched as Fleur expertly applied the cream. Samantha gingerly examined herself, finding that she wasn't nearly as badly cut about as it felt. There was some broken skin but not the deep cuts that she had envisaged.

"Well, I think that's my lot for the day," she said to them all, with an attempt at a grin. "I think I'll be a spectator for the rest of the day."

Once she was creamed she thanked Fleur and they all went to another area where women were being caned. As they watched, the woman who was bent over a bar with hands and feet tied to the ground was being caned hard on her ass. Judging by the look of her she had received a lot of strokes.

"What's happening here?" Mike asked another guy who was watching.

"This is a 50 stroke caning challenge," he replied, "She's had 42 so far."

As he spoke stroke number 43 landed accompanied by a grunt from the woman. They watched as the remaining seven strokes were applied and she was released and taken away by a staff member they hadn't met to have cream applied.

"Reckon you could do that, Desiree?" asked Sherilynn. "If you do, I will too."

"Would you?" asked Desiree doubtfully.

"Yes, I think I would. Do you want to go first?"

"No, I want you to go first and I'll receive as many as you do. Ok?"

"Ok," agreed Sherilynn, catching the eye of the guy wielding the cane.

He gestured for her to come over, which she did, and they discussed the situation before Sherilynn bent over the bar and the attendants secured the wrist and ankle straps.

Sherilynn's story:

How did I ever get into this situation, I wondered as the final strap was attached to my ankle. I had wanted to be caned but didn't think I'd have the courage to actually go through with it, yet here I was. My thoughts were interrupted by the cane hitting my ass, stinging, causing my stomach to turn and then serious pain radiated through my body from my ass. It was still rushing through me as the second stroke hit, adding to the sensations and definitely increasing the stinging pain I felt at the point of impact.

There followed a series of strokes, about 15 seconds apart, the pain and internal churning sensations slowly building. I felt some of the strokes hit places that had already be struck, causing a lot more pain than when they hit new skin. It felt like blood was pouring down my ass, but I couldn't see any dripping off me so it may have been my imagination. I wasn't counting so had no idea how many I'd received. However, I did become aware that with each stroke I would emit a grunting sound, purely involuntarily, probably due to my body pressing against the bar.

I also became aware that my pussy juices felt like they were flowing freely and imagined what I must look like with my female lubrication running down my thighs below my red, welted ass. After a while the guy caning me, who had introduced himself as Tony, came around and asked how I was. I wished I'd known how I was myself. I managed to nod and smile a bit which reassured him and he said only ten to go. Only, I thought, he ought to be on the receiving end.

I counted the last ten and they seemed far worse than the others, probably because I knew how many I still had to go. The last stroke seemed to be the worst, maybe he hit harder, I don't know. All I do know was that I remembered Desiree's words "I'll receive as many as you do". The devil inside me made me do it, there is nothing else to explain what happened next. Before I could be unstrapped I turned to the guy caning me.

"Give me another 25 please," I said.

"Are you certain that's what you want?" he asked.

"Yes, absolutely certain."

I looked at Desiree standing in the front of the crowd, a look of horror on her face as she realized what I was doing; increasing the number she would receive. I smiled and winked at her. She didn't smile back.

My smile quickly left as the next stroke hit me. It was as though I was starting again, the pain. The pain had diminished after the break but now it began once again with a vengeance, coursing through my nerves. I tried to turn my nervous system off, to isolate my ass as though I was watching what was happening without being a part of it, as though it was happening to someone else. The pain seemed to decrease as the strokes came regularly, each landing with a loud crack as I felt the cane split my poor tender skin and blood begin to flow from the open wounds. I was thankful I couldn't see the damage that was occurring to my beautiful ass and wondered if it would ever be the same again.

Quickly, it seemed, the strokes stopped and my caner asked if that was enough. I decided it was and my wrists and ankles were quickly released. I told the guy doing the caning that Desiree was his next target and she had said she would receive as many as I did, so please give her 75 strokes. I looked at Desiree, who mouthed the word "Bitch" at me and watched over my shoulder as she was led to the bar. Amidst clapping from the watchers, I was then taken away and my ass was gently coated in healing cream. I urged them to hurry as I wanted to watch Desiree as her ass was cut to ribbons.

Desiree's story:

I watched Sherilynn being caned and breathed a sigh of relief when she reached 50 strokes. So that's what I'd have to suffer and that's how my ass would look, I thought. Then when she spoke with the caner and he gave her another 25 I was horrified, but realized I hadn't agreed to a number, just to receive what she did. I watched her receive the extra 25 and saw her ass being shredded, shuddering as I thought of the pain I would have to receive now yet excited by the prospect at the same time. As she left she had that gloating look in her eye as she glanced back at me so I mouthed "Bitch" to her, although I knew it was my own fault for showing so much bravado.

I felt myself being tied into the wrist and ankle straps and then the caner checked to see if all was well.

"I understand you're to receive 75 strokes, is that correct?" he asked.

"Yes, I guess so," I replied.

"Ok, hold on for the ride," he quipped.

I heard the swish of the cane and felt the sting and immediate pain of the first blow as it landed squarely across both ass cheeks. God that hurt! If I'd known it would hurt that much I'd have kept my mouth shut. As it was I heard someone scream, then realized it was me. A few seconds later, before I'd got myself back under control, the next stroke landed. Again the scream as the pain shot through me. Again I felt the total disarray inside myself as my body struggled to come to terms with what was happening to it. The next stroke caught me unawares and I heard myself scream again, which then turned to a moan as the pain radiated from my poor sore ass.

The punishment seemed to go on forever, each stroke falling the same, many in the same place which caused great pain. I simply existed in a sea of pain and several times noticed I was quietly moaning and sobbing, not so much from the pain now but from the sense of helplessness and hopelessness of having no control over what was happening to me. I felt fluids running down my thighs and didn't know whether it was blood or lube, as I noticed, to my surprise, that I was feeling really horny from the caning. How can pain cause me to feel horny, I wondered.

Then it was over. My caner came around and told me I'd received 75 strokes and I'd taken them very well. I felt my wrists and ankles being untied and was then led away through the clapping onlookers, feeling very proud of myself as the next woman was led to the bar.

"Your turn now," said Desiree to Tiffany as they all stood in the shade with a cool lemonade. The four women had all admired their whip and cane marks, Sherilynn and Desiree both relieved that their asses weren't quite as cut up as they'd imagined. They were all aware that Tiffany was the only one not cut up yet and so the others were putting pressure on her to experience some contact games.

"They're starting the unders and overs game in a short time," said Desiree, "Are you going in that, Tiff?"

"Yes, definitely," she replied enthusiastically. "I'm going to win it and then go home unscathed."

"Yeah, right," said Samantha disbelievingly.

The four guys joined them after having a cold beer with some other guys and also spent some time examining the three cut up bodies.

"Looks like it must have hurt," said Mike.

"Yeah, it did at the time but it's not bad now," replied Samantha, "No sex for a while though. My pussy's too sore to take your big cock."

"Lucky we had last night then," replied Mike with a grin.

"Tiff's going in the unders and overs game," said Sherilynn, "Let's take her over and watch how she goes."

"Great idea," agreed Samantha, "Then we can take the boys to the dungeon and see how their boy bits stand up to some exercise."

The guys glanced at each other nervously, but nevertheless accompanied the women to the large round table set out with ten chairs. Dana herself was supervising, instead of Scarlett who they had expected, and sat waiting, idly shuffling a deck of cards as women slowly took their seats around the table laden with counters and with an unders or overs paddle in front of each seat. Tiffany sat down and her seven supporters grouped behind her, joining the throng of spectators for the game. Once all seats were taken Dana ran through the rules.

"Welcome to the unders and overs card game," she began, "This game starts with a shuffled pack of cards with one face up. Aces are low. The payout is proportional to the chances of an under or over. So if a queen is face up, for example, there is only one card that can be over and there are eleven cards that can be under. So if you bet on overs and a king comes up, you lose your stake counters. If you bet under you gain eleven times your stake. On the other hand, if a low card comes up and you bet overs you simply receive the same amount as your stake, while if you bet unders you would lose your stake. The highest bet is 10. You each start off with 20 counters and the aim is to lose your counters. If you lose all your counters before the game ends, you will be given another 10 counters. The game ends when the pack is used and at that time a count up of counters is made. You will receive one stroke of the cane for every counter you have, with a maximum of 100 strokes. Are there any questions?"

"So if I bet, say, 10 counters on unders when there was a ten showing, and a jack was next card, how many counters would I receive?" asked another woman.

"Well, there are three ways to be over a ten and nine ways to be under a ten, so if it was over and you bet 10 on under, you'd receive 30 plus the original 10. Any more questions?"

There were none so Dana issued each player with 20 counters and placed the shuffled deck face down on the table, turning the top card over alongside. It was an eight.

"The proportion paid is rounded down to the nearest whole number," explained Dana, "So an eight has five chances above and seven below, so the payout is one for one. Place your bets now please."

Everyone pushed some counters forward and turned their over/under indicator to one or the other. Tiffany chose unders, as did most of them, and pushed 5 counters forward. Once the betting was complete, Dana turned the top card over and found it was a three.

"Three means that those who bet unders lose their counters while those betting overs receive the same number they bet in addition to their stake."

She settled them all up, then asked them to place their bets again. Tiffany bet on overs with another 5 counters. The next card was a two.

"Those who bet unders lose their stake, those who bet overs gain an extra five times their stake because the chances of under were 2 compared with 10 for over, so the proportion is five times."

Tiffany collected another 25 counters to go with her existing 15, making 40 in total. She glanced nervously over her shoulder at her supporters.

The game proceeded along these lines for another 30 minutes by which time most cards had been turned and it was becoming interesting. Tiffany had quite a large pile of chips in front of her and was determined to reduce this as much as possible. As a novice card player she was unfamiliar with counting cards, especially the high and low ones in this game. Samantha, on the other hand, was a skilled card player and had been paying close attention. She knew that only one king had come out so far, so three must still remain in the few cards left. She had also realized that you played to the payout, not to the odds, so when a queen was placed face up she would have definitely bet on overs. However, Tiffany didn't seem to have grasped the techniques and played the odds, choosing unders with 5 counters.

Tiffany's story:

When the queen came up I was sure it would be easy to lose. I had 70 in front of me, so pushed out 5 and turned my paddle to unders. Then Dana turned over the king and I felt an incredible gut-wrenching feeling inside. She gave me my 55 counters, which with my 70 meant I had 125. I looked at the few cards remaining and wondered what they were. I now wished I'd paid more attention to what had come out, especially at the high and low ends, as I imagined what 125 strokes of the cane would feel like.

Because it was a king, another card was turned over, which was also a king, so a third was turned, a four. I started thinking. Something I should have done long ago it seems. If I played over and it was under, I would gain a great many more counters, so I chose to play under with 10. The worst that could happen was I would keep my 10, whereas if I played overs and it was an under I would receive 30 more counters. Why hadn't I figured this out long ago, I wondered.

Dana flipped a card and it was eight, so I retained my 10. After everyone was paid out I bet the next flip with 5 on overs and it was a king, so I lost that 5, 120 in kitty now. Still far too high. Being a king, Dana flipped another card which was a six. I bet 10 on overs and was relieved when a seven turned up. Now 110 in kitty but only one card remaining. I bet another 10 on unders and the last card was an ace, giving me a total of 100.

The game was over and I was to receive 100 strokes of the cane. All the other women were to be caned as well, in fact, everyone who played this game was caned, but 100 was a large number. Still, I rationalized, it could have been more, even up to 200. I watched as the women lined up at the bars, those with the lowest numbers first. I was to be last, the next highest number being 80.