Chapter 55

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Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

Copyright 1995-2009 by the Flogmaster. All Rights Reserved. Free distribution via electronic medium (i.e. the internet or electronic BBS) is permitted as long as the text is _not_ modified and this copyright is included, but _no_ other form of publication is allowed without written permission. This document _may_ contain explicit material of an ADULT nature. ***READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!*** Anything offensive is your own problem. This story is for **entertainment** purposes only, and it does _not_ necessarily represent the viewpoint of the author or the electronic source where this was obtained. All characters are *fictional* -- any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.

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Erin's Adventures
Chapter 55
A Realization

(***, M/FF, Edgy, Beating, whipping, enemas, hot wax)

Heidi and Erin pose for a last painting. (Approximately 1,289 words. Originally published 1998-02.)

For his fifth painting of us, Domingo wanted something extremely extreme. Heidi and I obeyed him implicitly, without question, but we were both frightened and nervous. Domingo was becoming more and more vicious. His beating were ferocious, sometimes drawing blood. He seemed to revile in the harsher instruments: the birch, the bullwhip, the four foot rattan. Heidi, especially, seemed overwhelmed by his intensity. She deserted Steve, devoting her time exclusively to Domingo. Strangely, I wasn't jealous at all -- I supposed I'd never thought of Domingo as my boyfriend.

Both of us nearly dropped out of school. We ignored our studies completely, concentrating on pleasing Domingo. We lived in his attic for days at a time. We were his slaves. We were naked all the time, submitting to frequent punishments and obeying his every instruction, no matter how painful or unusual.

He once had me pose as a water fountain, running a small hose along the back of my leg, up my back, and out the side of my mouth. The icy water splash down my naked front, while I had to remain completely still while he painted me.

Often, either Heidi or myself would be bound hand and foot and dangled from the ceiling all day long. We'd have to piss and shit from there, our droppings falling to the floor and making a terrible mess that, of course, we'd be required to clean.

There was much pleasure, too: nights with Domingo were never boring, and even during the days he'd often grab Heidi or myself and fuck us where we stood or knelt. Several times he took me while I was posing, admonishing me to remain still or he'd beat me.

He also enjoyed watching Heidi and I make love. His favorite was whipping us with the bullwhip or cat while we rolled around on the stage or bed. This was dangerous, for the head of one was always near the crotch of the other, and that was too close to where the whip landed. It frightened Heidi and I, but I suppose that fear only enhanced the intensity of our pleasure.

Weeks passed thus, with Domingo taking more and more control over the two of us. When he announced the plans for his fifth painting, both of us were overwhelmed. He gave us few details, but we knew the event promised to be severe when he promised us no beatings for a week so we could be well healed for Saturday's project.

As the day drew near, Heidi and I were bundles of nerves. Every command, every snap of his fingers, would freeze the blood in our veins. We shivered and knelt before Domingo, begging him for love and mercy. He only laughed, promising that Saturday we'd be punished more thoroughly than ever before in our lives.

That day he began things early with long icy showers for both of us, followed by double enemas with extra soap. Then he made us shave either other's pussies so we looked like little girls. He timed how long we took and paddled us each one smack for every second it had taken. Only after the spanking were we allowed to release the enemas.

After another shower and an ice enema, he tied us together in the 69 position where we remained for over an hour. We were bound so tightly we couldn't even move our heads, though I could smell Heidi's crotch which was right in my face. I couldn't satisfy her any more than she could me, however, and the tempting position only tormented us.

After lunch, which we prepared for him, he gave us each a terrific twelve-stroke caning with his heaviest cane. He did the whole naughty schoolgirl-headmaster routine and we had to play along -- when Heidi broke out of her role to swear violently after a vicious blow he gave her four extra strokes.

The afternoon was a blur of beatings, bondage, and pain. I remember being bound to a number of contraptions, each more frightening than the previous. My nipples were clamped and unclamped so many times I imagined they'd been pinched off. I always had something in arsehole or pussy -- a dildo, plug, hand, or cock. Then, as evening began, Domingo brought out the candles.

I'd never played with hot wax before, and Domingo quickly showed me why I had not. First he strapped us down onto a large table which he'd covered with sandpaper, rough side up. We were face down in different directions, so I couldn't even wink at Heidi for comfort. When we were secure, he whipped our bottoms and legs until they were scarlet. When I felt him prying open my buttcheeks I wanted to scream, but somehow I did not. He thrust the candle deep inside me. Out of the corner of my eye I watched him do the same to Heidi. Then he lit the candles. At first nothing happened, then I felt a hot splash across my thigh. That made me cry and jerk, which splashed more hot wax across my skin. The half hour it took for that candle to burn down was the longest of my life.

But that candle was only the beginning. Heidi and I spent the evening in various positions with candles of increasing thickness in different places. Trembling candles in our mouths dribbled wax across our tender breasts, which Domingo had thoughtfully whipped earlier. Domingo used a paintbrush to paint hot wax on us in various unusual places, such as between our toes, behind our knees, under our arms, and in the crack of our bums. The wax quickly cooled and hardened in the night air and it would grip and squeeze the skin in a rather relentless manner. There was no relief.

The actual painting wasn't begun until well after dark. Heidi and I were folded in half and hung from the ceiling by our hands and feet. Our faces peered out between our legs, our split pussies and rumps just below. Domingo used a small strip of leather to lash our sexes until we were both screaming, and then he plunked huge candles into our slits. Hanging, helpless, and terrified to move, we watched as he settled down to paint his masterpiece. Every few minutes one of us would cry helplessly as some wax dribbled down the candle and onto our flesh. We'd struggle to remain calm and still. The first shock of pain is the worst -- once you survive that, you are fine.

At midnight Domingo blew out the scant remains of the candles and removed them. He cleaned the wax off our arses and pussies, whipped us again, and refilled us, lighting the fresh candles and resuming his painting. The brief respite only made our positions worse, and as the night turned into morning, both Heidi and I were ready to explode from lack of urination.

I don't remember much after that. I remember seeing the completed painting in the morning, and while it was as brilliant as Domingo's work always is, I felt an emptiness inside me. I didn't say anything to Heidi, but when we finally stumbled home that afternoon, she turned to me and whispered, "I shall miss him."

It was then I realized that I'd never see Domingo again.

I don't know how we all knew something so clearly and yet none of us had said anything. Looking back, I think I had known all along it was to be our last painting together.

Heidi and I never returned to his place, and Domingo never even called. A month later, a check arrived in the mail. There was no note.

More to come next week!

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