The Lottery Pt. 02

Fred intermittently pushed his cock in and out of her pussy as it slowly shrank and began to slip out. Suzanne leaned further back and made sure her pussy was on display. After Fred was all the way out of her, great quantities of cum began to roll and drip out of her pussy. The crowd did not get to see it spurt out of Fred, but they did get to see it ooze out of Suzanne. There had been nothing simulated about this sex.

Anyone who was offended by this display had long since left. Those who remained, and it was most of them, roared and clapped their approval. Fred and Suzanne slowly climbed off the bed and held their hands together above their heads like dazed boxing champions. The crew removed the bed.

Three male escorts stepped forward for a task that was by now overdue. One removed the clamps from Amy's nipples, untied her wrists, and replaced the ties with tight leather wrist cuffs. Another removed the clamps from Lynn's nipples, knelt before her, lightly kissed the outside of her pussy, and attached the clamps to her pussy lips. And the third placed a set of clamps on Suzanne's swollen pussy lips; her clamping break was over. He tied her wrists behind her back again, and she took Amy's place at one end of the stage. Fred slipped out and down the steps at the rear of the stage; Lynn remained where she was. Amy came to the center, facing the audience.

* * *

"Our second performer tonight is Amy, and her performance will be an extreme submission that probably few of you have tried for yourselves."

A member of the stage crew had climbed a ladder while the clamps were being changed. He pulled down two ropes that had been attached, several feet apart, to the metal structure that supported one of the TV screens. Another crew member had brought out a turntable, three feet across, with something like shoes at each end of a diameter.

Amy spread her legs to step into the shoes, and raised her arms above her head. The crew member on the ladder hooked her wrist cuffs to the ropes hanging from above; the guy with the turntable tightened the laces on the shoes. Amy was spread eagled vertically, her arms extended overhead and her hands and feet wide apart. Except for her feet, every inch of her body was exposed to the whip.

Her magnificent body was more magnificent than ever in this position. Stretching her arms above and to the sides pulled her large breasts further up and apart. They jutted forward even more than usual. Her spread legs pulled her pussy lips well apart, revealing the soft pink folds within. The cameras could shoot closeups of her open pussy as often as the director liked. Her butt cheeks were pulled taut and separated, not quite revealing her asshole, but making unmistakably clear exactly where it was.

The turntable slowly turned. It couldn't go all the way around without entwining the ropes that held her arms and eventually putting serious stress on the ropes, on Amy, or on both. But it could go slightly more than 180 degrees in one direction, and then reverse, come back to the original position, and continue a bit more than 180 degrees in the other direction.

Everyone could see her clearly, both front and back. A welt across her back from the practice lash was clearly visible and by now, quite nasty looking. The crowd reacted to that as she was turned around.

When Amy was fully secured and displayed, there was a drumroll. "And now I am proud to introduce our talented whip master, Ivan the Terrible." Ivan entered from the rear of the stage, now dressed all in black leathers, except for an enormous red codpiece that covered his cock and balls and surely some dead airspace that no one's cock and balls could ever be big enough to fill.

Two crew members carried a cart to the top of the rear stairs, and one used it to roll in the whips. Ivan removed the first flogger from the cart, stretched it out as far as he could reach, held it high above his head, and displayed it to the crowd. Then he swung a couple of demonstration strokes, snapping the flogger in empty air. He did the same with the cat, the crop, the cane, and the single-tail whip. The audience oohed and aahed and murmured, many of them excited and some of them seriously worried about poor Amy.

The turntable turned Amy's back to the audience, and Ivan took his position with the heavy flogger. He landed the first blow across the top of Amy's back. Amy grunted. The emcee cried out, "One." The second blow landed a few inches below the first. "Two." And the third just below that. "Three." Some of the crowd began to count with the emcee, and others picked it up. Soon most of them were loudly counting. "Six. Seven. Eight."

Ivan ranged swings 1 to 5 down Amy's back. He had decided against wrapping the strokes around to her breasts; they would get their own turns. He skipped over the area where her kidneys would be, and placed number 6 at the top of her lovely ass. Amy cried out loudly for the first time. Numbers 7 and 8 landed in the middle and near the bottom of her ass.

Now the turntable revealed another trick. There was a groove between the two shoes, and the shoes slid inward through the groove to meet in the center, closing Amy's pussy and butt cheeks and pressing her thighs together. Strokes 9 and 10 broke across the back of her thighs, hitting both thighs with each stroke. And then the turntable turned her around. There were feminine gasps among the crowd. And there were tears in Amy's eyes.

11 and 12 hit the front of her thighs. And then the shoes moved back to the perimeter, spreading her legs again. And spreading her pussy again. Ivan moved up high, striking the tops of her breasts, the bottoms of her breasts, and then squarely across the nipples. "13, 14, 15," came the chant from the crowd. Then across her abdomen, just below the breasts ("16"), and just above her pussy ("17"). Then across the top of her thighs and the bottom of her abdomen, just at the level of her pussy, but not actually hitting it, because her pussy was neatly recessed within the other body parts. "18."

Then Ivan took a step backwards and swung from that greater distance. The tips of the flogger's tails snapped squarely on her open pussy, and Amy screamed for the first time. The drone camera got a close up of the flogger's tails landing on her pussy, and of two of its tails landing squarely inside, just beyond the first open pussy lip and short of the second. Ivan really was talented with the whip, just as the emcee had claimed.

Finally, Ivan stepped behind her and swung underhanded. Number 20 came up between her legs and landed on her pussy, wrapping around and leaving light red marks just above it. Amy was obviously suffering now, and this was only the first round, with the least dangerous instrument.

The table again turned Amy's back to the audience, and Ivan picked up the cat. He repeated the same pattern as before, working his way down her back, then down her bottom, and then pulling her legs together for two strokes on the thighs. The cat left uneven abrasions, but no clear stripes. Amy was crying out with every stroke a loud, sudden "Ah" each time, not at all like the prolonged "aah" of a massage. She was still working to keep it under control, and having partial success. The emcee and the crowd continued to count. "28. 29. 30."

Then she was turned around again, and the pattern repeated on the front. Two strokes on her thighs before her legs were spread again. On and around her breasts and squarely across her nipples. Across her belly, just above her pussy, and across the tops of her thighs at the level of her pussy. Then Ivan stepped back and again landed one squarely on her pussy, with some tails of the cat snapping inside. A scream this time from Amy. And finally, the underhand swing at her pussy from behind. "38. 39. 40."

Spreading the strokes around this way meant that no part of her body was spared, not even her most sensitive places. But it also meant that no stroke was repeated in the same place in a single round. She didn't entirely appreciate the fact, but she had been spared the ordeal of having the same place whipped over and over.

Until the crop. The first stroke of the crop came smashing down on her left nipple, and Amy screamed. The nipple was swollen and sore; it had been clamped for hours through the day; the clamps had last come off barely ten minutes before. It could have been far worse, if the crop had immediately followed the removal of the clamps. But the reality was awful enough.

And then it kept repeating. "42. 43. 44. 45." Five strokes in a row on her left nipple, and five screams from Amy. And then five on her right nipple, with the same results.

And then her pussy. Ivan stood in front of her this time, with the drone camera just at his side and a bit below her pussy. He swung the crop up between her legs and squarely into her pussy lips. Of course it hurt, but to Amy's surprise and relief, it wasn't nearly as bad as the crop on her nipples. Ivan couldn't put as much force on the underhand swing, and her pussy lips were a more diffuse target than her nipples. Eight strokes on the pussy. Amy cried out with every one, but she wasn't screaming. And then, one more on each nipple. And she screamed again.

They turned her around again, once again showing her back to the audience, and Ivan picked up the cane. He swished it through the air, making a surprising amount of noise, impressing the crowd and further intimidating Amy.

Some doms cane the back, but many do not. Ivan believed that canes should be used on fleshy body parts. He put five tightly spaced strokes across her bottom, creating five angry red stripes stretching across it in parallel. Then he pulled her legs together and put five more stripes across the backs of her thighs.

Amy was screaming with every stroke now, but she never begged. She didn't demand that the beating stop, she didn't cry out for mercy, and she didn't whisper to Ivan to please go easy on her.

She had read about safe words in BDSM romance novels, and now she realized that she didn't have one. She hoped that she would never have used it anyway. She also belatedly realized that she didn't know whether she got paid if she failed to finish. No one had explained the conditions of payment.

Ivan turned her around and put five stripes across the front of her thighs. And then, as the turntable spread her legs again, he put a cane stroke across the top of her breasts. Some of the women in the crowd cried out in shock. Then a second stroke, just below the first. Then one squarely on her left nipple, then squarely on the right. And then one on her belly, just above her pussy. "78. 79. 80." He did not cane her pussy, perhaps partly out of mercy, but mostly because he couldn't get any leverage with an underhand cane stroke.

Even so, Amy was screaming with every stroke, and now she was also sobbing, tears continuously streaming down her face. The cameras closed in for the vivid marks on her breasts and for the pain and distress on her face.

Ivan turned her so that her back was to the audience again. Finally, it was time for the whip. Short of putting metal barbs or hooks on a whip or a flogger, which almost no one ever does in consensual relationships, the single-tail whip is as intense as it gets. It is long, so it provides lots of leverage. It is thin, so it concentrates the force of the blow. It can easily cut the skin, but when skillfully used, it can raise large red welts without breaking the skin.

Ivan snapped and cracked the whip in the air, again impressing the crowd and terrifying Amy. These last 20 would be true lashes; "strokes" was no longer the right word.

He returned to his pattern with the flogger and the cat, cracking number 81 across the top of Amy's back. The sound of the impact was loud; the sound of Amy's scream was louder than any that had come before. The red stripe appeared after a short delay, and soon rose into an angry welt.

Ivan put five of these welts at intervals down her back, and three across her bottom. He pulled her legs together and put two more across the back of her thighs. "89. 90." On her thighs and bottom, the nasty red welts from the whip crisscrossed the earlier stripes from the cane.

He turned her around. Was he really going to use that whip on those sensitive places on her front?

No one had explicitly told the crowd that there would be 100 strokes. But that was a nice round number, they had been shown five instruments, there had been 20 strokes with each of the others, and using this whip on her front surely looked like a climactic development. Much of the crowd sensed that these were the last ten. Nearly all the men and many of the women joined in the count, loudly and enthusiastically.

Two welts across the front of her thighs. "91. 92." Then up to her breasts, as the turntable spread her legs. "93. 94." Number 95 struck squarely across her right nipple, narrowly missing the left; even for Ivan, it was almost impossible to hit them both at the same time with an instrument as narrow as the single tail.

Amy was screaming uncontrollably and nearly continuously. The whip was the most painful of all the instruments, and the pain of nearly 100 strokes was cumulative. It kept building, getting worse and worse. Pain was no longer fading away between lashes. Each lash was a peak of intense pain layered on top of a high plateau of continuing pain that was already there.

A lash just below her breasts. "96." One across her lower abdomen, just above her pussy. "97." One across the tops of her thighs, just at her pussy but striking it only incidentally. "98." She knew what was coming next, and most of the crowd did too. Ivan took two steps back, because the single tail was a good bit longer than the floggers. He cracked the whip and caught the inside of her pussy with the very tip of it. "99." The loudest scream of all. Then he stepped well behind her, cracked the whip through her legs, and caught the front of her pussy from bottom to top, creating a vertical welt just above her pussy. "100." The crowd cheered wildly.

Amy sobbed and hung on her ropes, too weak to stand on her own. Her body was mostly bright red, with welts and stripes from the top of her breasts to just above her knees. She would no doubt bear the welts, and many of the stripes, for the rest of her stay, and those at the top and at the bottom would be clearly visible above and below the Resort's bikini and skimpy sarong. Whether or not they had seen her whipped, everyone would recognize her as the woman of the whipping.

Nearly all the women in the crowd were thinking that they could not have withstood what Amy had, that they wouldn't last very long at all if they tried, and that they never wanted to try. A very few were wondering if maybe they should try it. Some of the men were wondering whether and how they could talk their partners into it.

Nearly all the women who had arrived at the town square blindfolded had had those blindfolds removed. They wanted to see the show, and their partners did not want to deprive them of the opportunity. But a few had remained blindfolded throughout the performance. They had experienced Suzanne's passion and Amy's suffering only through their ears and through the breathing, the moans, the cries, the screams, and the crack of the whips. Their imaginations had done the rest. That had also made for a great show, but very different from what the others had seen with their eyes.

Ivan withdrew, and the emcee approached. "Amy, you were magnificent. Absolutely amazing. You were so incredibly strong." He held a Hitachi vibrator in front of her face, but she didn't see it. Her eyes were closed.

"Amy, would you like to come now?" She stirred, but her eyes remained closed. He asked again: "Would you like to come now?" She opened her eyes, astonished. This had not been promised. She hesitated only a second before saying, "Yes. Oh God yes."

She had not entered the subspace that her novels described; she didn't understand what that even meant. She was in serious pain, but, she quickly realized, she was also highly aroused. Her pussy felt drippy wet, and she was desperate for an orgasm.

The emcee put the Hitachi near the top of her pussy, squarely over her clit. He turned it on and gradually turned up the power, soon reaching its highest level and keeping it there. He pressed it into her. She still hung on the ropes, weak and dazed.

Her poor pussy had been clamped for much of the day. Her whole body, including her pussy, had just been viciously whipped. Now it was getting the direct stimulation of a high-powered vibrator. All the sensations ran together; the lingering pain and the mental stimulation of having been naked all day magnified the effects of the Hitachi.

Amy began to moan, and then to squirm. She tried to pull away, but her feet were anchored to the turntable. She could only pull her hips back, and not very far. The emcee was relentless; however she wriggled, the Hitachi pursued and stayed firmly against her clit. She moaned, and gasped for breath, and then exploded into a series of orgasms, shaking in her bonds. The crowd cheered again.

As the stage crew began to untie Amy, the emcee addressed the crowd. "This concludes this part of our show, but we will have a new lottery every day. You can still enter tomorrow's lottery as late as 9:30 this evening, at the registration desk of your hotel. And for any later day, you can enter the lottery tonight, tomorrow, or at any time up to 9:30 the night before the lottery you want to enter. You can enter for every day of your stay, or for as many days as you choose. Remember, just because you enter for one day doesn't mean your name gets drawn that day.

"And now you are all invited to join us at The Schooner Maria for dinner. The Schooner Maria is the finest of our fine dining establishments." He did not add that it was also the most expensive. "And our three naked lottery winners will be dining at the head table, proudly on display for your viewing pleasure."

* * *

The three women needed to clean up and refresh their make up before they went to the restaurant. Amy needed to be revived and re-energized to the extent possible. Greg had not whipped her, but he was her lover and he provided most of the after care. What she most needed was basic medical attention and first aid, but that would have to wait. She couldn't very well go to The Schooner Maria with visible creams or lotions spread on her wounds. And management didn't want the delay.

She took a quick shower, and had to be persuaded to have a clear disinfectant sprayed all over her wounds.. It stung like crazy, and she had had enough of pain for the night. As bad as the welts looked, few of them had broken the skin, maybe none of them. Her wounds were unlikely to get infected, but Greg and the staff were right that it would be much worse if one of them did.

Soon they were ready to go. Amy, Lynn, and Suzanne were still naked except for their shoes. The clamps with heavy chains were once again firmly attached to all three sets of nipples. Their wrists were lightly tied behind their backs.

They entered the restaurant to another round of applause, bathed in spotlights as they walked between the crowded tables. They slowly made their way to the head table at the far end of the restaurant from its entrance. Amy's stripes and welts drew much comment. Their three partners followed at a short distance, fully dressed, and Fred drew some cheers and comments.

The Schooner Maria had always been able to set up with a head table, but there had been few occasions to use it in the past. Now it was perfect for displaying the lottery winners, and if the lottery continued, it would be used every night. The head table ran along one wall, elevated on a dais so that those seated there could be easily seen.