The Other Side of the Tracks Ch. 03

"Not bad. What do you guys think?" she asks.

"Nice! How many is that?" you ask her.

"Thirty. That's really not that many; hell, I've managed sixty on Rosita before. Isn't that right, my little slut?"

"Yth, Mthtrth," Rosita's affirmative reply is throttled by your cock, onto which she is impaling her throat, over and over, her hands behind her. On her knees before you, that amazing ass pointed at us...and yet my attention is locked on your cock, disappearing and reappearing into her face.

"So, are you going to yank a bunch of them off at once, or just remove them slowly, and drag it out," you ask Mistress Red as she sits down and takes a break, leaving me as a spreadeagled display of her cruelty.

"Neither," she says, grinning evilly. "I'm going to quirt them off."

Daddy, I can tell you don't know what a quirt is...but I do! My eyes go wide with fear.

"What the hell does that mean? How do you quirt? Is that like squirting?" he laughs.

"No, quirt isn't anything like that. It's actually a what. A quirt is, well, hold on, let me show you." She rises and goes to the box. She pulls it out, and a shiver runs through me. She goes back and sits next to you.

"So, this," she says, holding it up, "is a quirt. It's a type of whip used for livestock. As you can see, it's as much handle as anything." Hers is about 18" of braided handle, then about 12" of flat leather, split after the first 4 inches. The result is a wicked forked tongue devil. A devil that will soon speak evil on my flesh.

"Here, let me show you how it works. Pull your cock out of my whore's mouth," she says wryly. "I don't want you getting bitten. Rosita, brace!" Rosita freezes in position, fear filling her eyes. "I think she hates this more than anything else," Red muses.

Mistress Red raises her right hand with the whip, then brings it down hard, using the flex of the handle to snap the tongues down on poor Rosita's ass. Almost immediately, two long red stripes appear, stretching from the top of her ass around to where I can't see them. Rosita hisses, and her head snaps up slightly. I see her lips tremble, and a tear rolls down her cheek. This from one lick of the devil's tongue.

I have thirty clothespins on me. That thought sinks in. That could be sixty tongues of fire kissing me. Not counting any "accidental" misses, of course. My blood turns to ice water.

"So, how do you do it? Whip him until they all fall off?" you ask her. I'm hoping that's asked out of concern for my well-being, not eager anticipation of my suffering.

"Oh, heavens now! I'm cruel, but that might kill him, or at least turn him into a vegetable. No, I've gotten pretty accurate with this, haven't I, Rosita?"

"Si, senora," the little Latina replies.

"I can flick poor Rosita's nipples and barely hit anything beyond the areola," brags Mistress Red, an evil smile on her face. "Of course, she had to endure a lot of inaccuracy as I honed my skills." Rosita grimaces slightly at the memory. And, of course, the current fire trail on her ass. She returns to sucking MY Master's cock, probably hoping to stave off any repeats of that experience.

"So...you're literally going to whip them off of him?" you ask, clarifying. "But what about the ones...you know...on his balls?"

Red stands, and moves towards me, obviously measuring the distance very closely, extending her whip hand, adjusting again...

"Well, let's hope he's able to stand very, very still. For his sake..."

*****

Yes, indeed, I thought. Let's hope I CAN stand very still. While tied spreadeagled to 4 corners of a room...aboard a moving boat...as a woman with a whip and an evil grin prepares to do pinpoint drills on my naked, tormented body.

Yeah, let's hope for that.

Mistress Red has an absolutely sickening smile on her face; well, sickening if you're the subject of her sadistic anticipation. An immediate crisis develops within me: Is it better to keep my eyes open, and see the lash coming, or is it better to close my eyes, to keep myself from flinching.

She helps me make up my mind when she brings her hand up, and then feigns a lash, causing me to flinch. She laughs sadistically at me - and then lashes again, striking two or three of the clips on my left nipple. Of course, there is some of the lash which also strikes me on the flesh around the nipple as well.

To my horror, one clothespin flies off, but another just shifts, pinching just the thinnest bit of nipple, causing intense localized pain and refusing to drop off. I'm whimpering as I try futilely to dislodge it by shaking.

"Oh, fuck no! Don't you try that shit with me, bitch! If you shake one off, I'll put three back in it's place and give you 5 straight out lashes! You stand there and take it, you little sissy!," Red screams at me. Undoubtedly, she'd love nothing more than to see me do exactly that, just to justify dishing out more pain.

My eyes are closed, coping with the pain, when lightning strikes again, this time on the right nipple. At this, two clips fly off, but even more of the whip bites into my right breast, and I immediately see twin welts appear leading up from the nipple. Even as the pain starts to register in my brain, another lands beside it. No clip gets dislodged, and one is left just barely hanging from my nipple. My upper breast is starting to look like I just got a flame-job tattoo. In prison.

"AHHHHHH!!! NO! NO! Oh, please, stop! For God's sake, stop, please!" my head snaps back, my cry going towards the ceiling above. Later, if my brain survives, I may wonder if there is a captain or crew up there, listening in on my torment. I'd bet there are, and that I am not the first man or woman they have heard screaming for mercy.

Red responds by lashing out again, ripping the dangling clothespin and another from my left nipple, sending them scattering. One lands by you on your chair, and you pick it up. Pinching the back, opening the clamping part, you test the tension.

"That's got a pretty good pinch to it," he observes to Mistress Red. "Where do you get these?"

"I special order them," Red responds, as she shifts about, trying to figure out her next line of attack on my body and mind. "The cheap ones from Walmart just don't have the bite I like. They just fall off too easy. Try one," she says, nodding towards Rosita.

I watch you pull the poor Latina's head up and off your cock, and the fear mixes with the lust in her eyes. "Give me your titty, Rosita," you tell her, and she does not hesitate, cupping one of those gorgeous globes and lifting it toward you. You pinch her nipple, hard, causing her to gasp and-

FUCK! Mistress Red takes advantage of my distraction to lash out at the clips on my scrotum. FUCKFIRE FUCKFIRE FUCKFIRE THAT FUCKING HURTS! I have no idea of how many if any clips come off; all I know is that napalm has rained down on me.

"Keep your eyes off of my slave, slut. That's MY property. Only man in this room that needs to be looking at her is your Master. And trust me, she's doing a hell of a lot better job of keeping him happy than you could, you little sissy. And besides, what do you think you could do for her with THIS-" the lash lands again on my balls, and this time I see two clips go flying across the room "-little tiny excuse for a cock," she finishes.

I'm wailing as the searing pain of this latest atrocity rips through my soul. I struggle for breaths through sobs. What the fuck kind of sadistic fucking person-

She lashes again, coming up between my legs, hitting square up into my balls then up into my taint. A single clothespin comes up, flying up right between us, which she catches expertly, which gives her cause to grin. She throws it to you. "Give her some more motivation!" she says, but your reach to catch it is very slow. I guess Rosita's talent has you distracted.

Red resumes her work with the quirt, and some of the strokes are nowhere near any clothespins; they are just meant to hurt. And they do. This pain is like nothing I've ever endured. Over and over and over she whips me. I see you over there, Master, watching, eyes wide, maybe even a bit horrified, but with your cock buried in Rosita's throat; well, you certainly weren't going to stop THAT for me, were you?

Between crying, screaming and trying to breath, I'm beginning to gag. All through this, Mistress Red's smile just gets wider with each stroke. After another crushing lash up into my burning balls, one which dislodges another pin and sends it soaring, she pauses. I've gone beyond my subby space; I'm on the border of insanity and fading fast. She steps closer, her cruel, cold blue eyes locking my tortured gaze, and she reaches down. She cups my balls, looking into my soul, and holds them gently.

And then she squeezes them, hard, holding them in her grip as she leans over by my right ear, away from your side, and whispers very softly to me. "I bet they hurt, don't they? That makes me happy. Do you know why that makes me happy, slave? Don't worry; I'll save you guessing. It's not that I'm a sadist; well, I mean, I AM a sadist; you can ask Rosita about that. But it's more than that. You see, slut: I.HATE.Men. So when I get a chance to rain down pain on one, to make one suffer, to make one pay for what men have done to me... It gets me off, slave. It makes THIS the sweetest sight I have ever seen."

She releases my tortured balls, and brings her hand up before my face. To my horror, I see blood there. MY blood. She has flayed me open, apparently.

"NOO! Please, God, please, somebody stop her! Please! She's killing me!" Tears are flooding from my eyes; there is zero sexual anything in this for me. I'm in the hands of a lunatic, and it has nothing to do with any kind of sexual gratification. This is just hateful violence. I look at you, and see you're...asleep? What the fuck? Did Rosita suck your brain out?

Mistress Red laughs at me. "Oh, sissy. We can't stop now; we're just about to get the fun-"

"WHAT IN THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE!"

That can only be the voice of God, I think. Deep bass, thundering volume, as if lightning instead of words would follow next.

I manage to lift my head, and through flooded eyes, I see a massive dark humanoid form fill the cabin door. I can't see the facial features because of the tears and the backlighting from the sun setting, but I don't have to. Somehow I know who this is.

Clarence.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THE MATTER WITH YOU, BITCH?!" he snarls at Red. "You're fucking killing him, you stupid, fucked up bitch!" With one hand, Clarence grabs red by the throat and lifts her off of the ground. Her feet are kicking, and she tries to lash out at him with the quirt.

Big mistake. HUGE mistake.

Clarence catches her wrist, and as easily as I might turn a twist tie, he quickly spins it. A sickening crack sound and then a scream are the next sounds.

"You fuck! You broke my fucking wrist, you stupid ni-" and that's as far as she gets before the back of Clarence's hand obliterates the next few syllables. Back and forth, twice, three times, he smacks her.

"Shut up, Tanya. You're nothing but a bitter, fucked up little bitch. I told you you could have some fun with him; not because I like you, but because I thought HE would like it. You went WAY over the fucking line. You hurt MY boy. Charlie might like you, but I can't fucking STAND you. Now you've fucking outstayed your welcome. You got to GO!" With that, Clarence, still holding her aloft by her throat, starts to carry her out to the back deck.

"Go where?" she squeaks from Clarence's hand. "We're out in the fucking ocean! You can't just throw-" the door slams shut on her protest. I have no idea what Clarence will do with her, but I'd have to work hard to protest her being shark food right now.

"Senor," Rosita says, coming to me. "Please, sir, it is okay. You are not really bleeding," she tells me, touching me lightly between my legs. Even the faintest touch burns, but all I can do is moan. She pulls up her finger, which is coated in bright red fluid. "It is not real blood, senor. It is fake blood, like they use at Dia de las Muertes. Halloween. She hides it in her glove, then pulls it out when she reaches down. She fuck with the head. She puta loco! You not bleeding, senor. I promise. She do this to me before, and other mens." Rosita strokes my face, then turns to Clarence, who is entering the back door.

"Senor Master Clarence, can I set him free?" Evidently, he must have nodded, because I feel her freeing my ankles first. "Can you stand?" she asks me. Still in a fog of agony, I shake my head.

"Here, I'll lift him, you unhook his hands, Rosita." she does, and Clarence carefully picks me up and lays me on the couch.

"Si, Senor Clarence. I am sorry about this, Senor. She tell me she going to kill me if I tell anything. I know she drug Senor Charlie; that's why he fall asleep while I suck him. Lo siento, I did not know she would do this. She gone crazy; I scared of her."

"It's okay, Rosita. You take care of Charlie, I will take care of him." Clarence goes to a small upper cabinet, opens it, takes something out, then grabs a bottle of water from a small refrigerator. Then he returns to me.

"Hey, my friend. SIt up just a little. Take these," he tells me, handing me two little pills, then twisting the top off of the bottle. I don't ask, I just put them in my mouth, then took a sip, then a gulp of the water. Clarence pulled a pillow from on the back of the couch, and puts it under my head. "Those will kick in in a little bit. I've got some stuff I'm going to put on these marks." He goes back to the same cabinet, and retrieves a small white tub.

"Rosita, go upstairs and tell Carl I'll be down here a while. Tell him to just keep us on the same heading."

"We use this for sunburns and scrapes. Good stuff, helps the healing and has a pain killer in it," he explains, as he begins to gently smooth it over each place where that devil licked me. I wince even at his gentle touch on the first few, but then the pain eases; I'm guessing the pills are kicking in, too. Yep, they are, I realize, as I begin to feel a gentle buzz.

It is a bit surreal, watching this giant of a man gently tending to my pains. His hands dwarf mine, and mine are not small. His palm covers each side of my chest as he works the cream gently around and over my tortured red nipples, which are still distended. I watch his hands, mesmerized by the contrast of color, the juxtaposition of power and gentle comfort.

I guess I'm smiling, too, because he looks at my face and smiles at me. "Pills kicking in?" he asks.

"Yeah, giving me a nice buzz. Haven't felt like this since college," I grin. I still feel the sting, but it is not overwhelming me any more. "So...what did you do with her?" I ask, nodding to the cabin door. "Nothing you'll get in trouble for, I hope."

"Shit, they should give me a medal if I got rid of that sick bitch. No, I didn't. But she will be...occupied for the rest of the weekend. And trust me, she'll never touch you again. I am so sorry for-" I reach a finger up and put it across his mouth to silence him.

"No. You don't need to apologize. You were right: I do enjoy pain, and I even enjoy the humiliation. I don't for a second think you or Charlie knew what she would do. And the fact that she thought to drug him means she knew what she was doing wasn't kosher. This is on HER, not you. By the way, how did you figure out..."

At this, Clarence looks a little sheepish. "Well, I was up top, chatting with Carl. We could hear some of what was going on because of the intercom. Carl has been with me for several years. I can drive this thing fine, but with Carl aboard, I don't have to, so I can enjoy my time with my guests. So, anyway, as we cleared the channel and accelerated, it got hard to hear, so that's when I activated the app on my phone that connects to the cameras I have set up in here," he explains, indicating cameras up in each corner of the room.

"When I saw Charlie passed out, and I saw the marks on you, that's when I came down. I just wish I had gotten down here sooner. Still have half a mind to feed that bitch to the sharks," he says angrily.

"You can't do that," I tell him flatly.

"No, trust me, I could make her disappear, tell them she must have gotten drunk and fallen over during the night and-"

"No, that's not what I meant. I mean sharks would never eat her."

A quizzical look comes across Clarence's big face.

"Even sharks have standards," I tell him, smiling.

This gentle giant kissing me is the last thing I recall before the pills take me into blissful rest.

*****

I have no idea what time I fell asleep, but the clock says 11:40 when I wake up. A very light blanket is draped over me. Beside me, on the floor, lies a sleeping bear, on his back, a pillow under his head. He is wearing a loose pair of gym shorts and a muscle shirt. I smile at the image of my hero.

Across the room, Rosita is curled up at your feet, Daddy. You're still asleep, but she is not. She looks over at me and smiles silently. She gives me a thumbs up, asking if I'm okay, and I give her the sign that I am good.

Am I good, I wonder? I gently feel my body, touching gently on the areas where I know the devil's tongue did its worst. They are sore if I push on them, but the burn is largely gone. I have no idea what is in that tub, but something tells me it's more than aloe vera and lidocaine. But hey, I'm not complaining.

My muscles are a little sore, especially in my legs and arms, but a little stretching helps get the blood flowing. I turn and look down at Clarence, still sleeping. I can't help but smile as I look at his chest, a barrel of muscles. Arms and legs like tree trunks. It is hard to ascertain his age. At first I think he's no older than thirty, but common sense tells me he's probably closer to fifty than thirty.

I almost instinctively reach out to touch him; he's like a sculpture. "Real Man," as sculpted by God, I think, and almost giggle at the image of him standing in a museum as women swoon and fan themselves as they "consider" the artwork. I pull my hand back, though, as a mischievous plot enters my mind.

Easing off of the couch, I get down on my knees between his legs, looking up the legs of his loose shorts. I lift the hem of the left leg, then the right, and there it is: that magnificent chocolate log! Gently, I work the right leg of his shorts up, exposing the object of my attention. Carefully, I lift it up, and lick from the base to the bottom of the tip. I look over at Rosita, and she is grinning and gives me another thumbs up.

I smile back, then go back to my labor of love. I lick from bottom to top again, then down, then back up, and around the head. I wrap my hand softly around the shaft, stroking slowly as I lick all over the top. I feel the shaft stiffening and thickening in my hand, and I can visibly see the head of this big brute grow as I shower it with affection.

I look over and see Rosita stirring gently, so as not to awaken you, and she crawls over to lay next to us for a front-row seat. She grins at me and softly whispers, "Tu eres hermosa, puta!"

I don't break from pleasuring my sleeping giant but for a moment to stick my tongue out at her, smile, then resume. I begin to work my mouth open wider, taking some of Clarence's plum-sized cockhead into my mouth, covering it in spit.

Eyes still closed, Clarence mumbles, "Rosita..." Before she can answer, I indicate for her to be silent. "Si, Senor Clarence. I am here," I answer in my best imitation of the tiny Latina. I go right back to pleasing him as Rosita struggles not to laugh. Clarence calls to her again...

"Rosita..." Again I respond.

"Si, Senor Clarence. I am here, sucking your cock. El esta muy gigante!" At this, Rosita has to put her hand over her mouth.

"Rosita..." Clarence says again, only this time, he reaches over and puts his hand around her head. "Rosita, go and get me some lube. I gotta fuck this puta hermosa!" he says, opening his eyes and smiling. Busted! I just smile at him and go back to sucking his big black cock. Rosita laughs aloud as she goes to retrieve something to make the going a little easier.