Fragment 06: The Party

Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

Copyright 1985-2020 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.
This is the first of what I'm calling my "Fragment" series--these are incomplete, unfinished stories or scenes that frankly, I probably will never go back and finish. Some of them were written long ago, but they often have some degree of merit, but they can't be judged like a real story.

Anyway, I hope you them. I will be posting them occasionally when my supply of "real" stories runs low. Let me know if it's worth the bother!

(The Flogmaster)

The Party

(**, M/F, Edgy, slave discipline)

The beginning of a story about a young lady's adventure's as a slave at an S&M party. (Approximately 3,941 words. Originally published 1996-02.)

The guests were starting to arrive. Robyn could see that as she looked out from behind the dark curtain that separated the hallway from the main hall. The guests were wearing tuxedos and gorgeous, flamboyant gowns that looked like they cost a fortune.

Inside, her stomach was churning in an orgy of anticipation and dread. She knew what was going to happen. She had been well prepared. She knew that in just a few moments she and two dozen other women and men would make their entrance to the party. They would walk down the gangplank out from behind the curtain and stand before the crowd. She and the others would be completely naked.

She swallowed, her throat dry. She forced herself to breath deeply and evenly. "I can do it," she thought. "I must do it." The stack of bills and debts flashed rapidly through her mind, including that dreaded note from the landlord: pay or get out. She really had no choice, she thought. It was this or the street. The three thousand dollars she'd earn tonight would more than pay her bills--she'd probably have enough left over to buy a new dress! And if Nancy was at all right about the future, she could be earning three to even five thousand a week just going to a party every weekend. "If you can take it," flashed through her mind but she dismissed it immediately.

The lobby was getting crowded, now. The guests were talking loudly among themselves, munching crackers and cheese, miniature pizzas, caviar, exotic fruits, and dozens of other delicacies from the food tables.

Suddenly someone pinched Robyn's bare bottom and she almost gave herself away. She turned around and saw Nancy winking at her. "If your bottom's that sensitive now, you just wait until tomorrow, honey!" She was laughing as she said this, her pretty brown eyes sparkling with humor, her black hair flipped brazenly down her back. But Robyn didn't even smile, her heart frozen in terror.

"I can't do this," she thought frantically. "I can't." But deep inside she knew she'd have to.

"Don't worry--you'll do fine," whispered Nancy.

Before Robyn could answer, there was a stirring along the line and suddenly everyone was dead silent. Nancy pushed in front of Robyn and to the sound of a drum roll, came through the curtain. Robyn watched as she flounced down the walkway, spun completely around, just a hair too fast for detail but slow enough to see that there was detail worth seeing. Then she paused and walked to her place at the end of the runway.

Immediately bidding began, party guests shouting out their bids. Mr. Alexander, the host, was standing on a far end of the gangway and he took the bids as they came. In a blur Robyn watched as Nancy was examined, her buttocks paddled, and she was "purchased" and led off the runway. Then there was another, and other. Steve went. Then Allan. Then Sarah and Jenny, the twins. Now it was her turn.

She gulped and stepped out into the bright lights. She could feel her face burning as eyes from everywhere caressed her body. She could feel them massaging her breasts, peeking through her soft mass of pubic hair, poking her round bottom. She stood at the end of the runway as the bids rose. Mr. Alexander stepped over to her, touching her the way the others wanted to.

"Only fifteen hundred for flesh such as this? Look at these magnificent breasts! And these buttocks! Incredible. So soft and smooth and bouncy. This one's never even been spanked, I warrant. A delight, a real delight, worth double what you're offering."

In horror Robyn knelt as Mr. Alexander pulled apart her buttocks and pried her legs apart to show what they concealed. She felt so naked and vulnerable, and it didn't even encourage her that the bidding had risen to an all-night high of $4200. She felt dazed and in a dreamland, as fingers poke and prodded her, and inquisitive eyes gave her more in depth examinations than her doctor.

The first blow of the paddle came as a complete shock. She had seen it happen to others, but now it was her turn. It didn't hurt as much as she had expected, she thought. It was a thin leather paddle, very wide but flexible. Each time it slapped her reddened buttocks it turned them white briefly. It stung, but the blows were bearable.

Suddenly, through the noise, the crowd, and the shame, Robyn felt it was all a dream. Everything seemed so unreal. She found herself transported, and was almost unaware of the paddling. She felt a certain sense of calm. She was confused, terrified, embarrassed, but those emotions seemed strangely distant. It was the pain that real, the pain that was her only thought, her only concept of self. She was pain. Pain was all she knew, all she could relate too.

Not unbearable pain, but exquisite pain, pain that was borne for a purpose, pain for pleasure. In a daze Robyn realized that Rex, Mr. Alexander's assistant, who was wielding the paddle, had switched to a wooden instrument that truly was punishing her bottom. It lifted her off the floor with each blow, and she crouched, arching her back and pushing her buttocks higher to receive the blows.

She was on her knees, her heavy breasts hanging below her and bouncing with every hard blow to her backside. The blows where coming faster now, and harder. The crowd was almost delirious with pleasure, shouting at Rex to paddle her harder, harder.

Suddenly he stopped, and Robyn found herself writhing, her hips still jerking in rhythm with the paddle blows that did not come. The tears pouring down her face she blushed furiously, and Rex promptly separated her legs with the board to reveal her swollen sex to all the crowd.

In shame she was led off the stage, still on her hands and knees, a collar attached to her neck. Hands pulled at her breasts, slapped her sore buttocks, or pinched her thighs as they passed through the crowd. They went through several rooms until Robyn had lost all idea of where they were. There were sights and sounds all around her, naked men and women, the sounds of paddles and the straps striking bare flesh, groans of tortured bodies mingled with the tortured groans of bodies writhing with pleasure. But Robyn noticed none of this.

When they finally stopped she realized the paddling and the auction had so discombobulated her she had not even looked to see who was her master of the evening. In surprise she found he was looking at her, and he was very handsome, with short blond hair and bright blue eyes that sparkled with humor and affection. He was young, very young. Strong and athletic, but not overly so. Suddenly he spoke.

"Your name is Angela. If you fail to answer by that name, I will punish you most severely. I think, as a way of introduction, I will spank you." Without another word he sat on a short stool that was in the corner of the room and lifted her easily across his lap. She was on her back, her face staring up at him, terrified. He reached out and began to pulled and squeeze her breasts between his fingers, and she groaned at the pleasure and pain.

"It's like a back rub," she thought. "It hurts but I don't want it to stop." When her breasts were suitable sore and hard, he turned her over and began the same treatment on her buttocks, kneading them and pinching them unmercifully, ignoring Robyn's squeals of pain and delight.

The the spanks began. He was using his hand, but the blows her solid and very hard. Faster and faster they came, Robyn gasping for breath, her tears filling and choking her mouth. But the hard spanks did not stop, but accelerated, harder and harder, first on one side, then on the other. Then on her thighs, even her calves, and back to her sore bottom.

Occasionally he would stop and cup her bottom with his hand, feeling its roundness, its curves and softness, and she would relax, thinking it was over. But then he'd begin again, harder than ever.

When he finally stopped, Robyn was crying harder than she had during the paddling. She was sobbing, and it was all she could do to keep her hands from covering her bottom. But her set her up and made her stand.

"My name is Martin. But you call me master. Let's go find some entertainment, shall we?" With a ponderous heart, she dropped to her knees and followed him, the color occasionally jerking her neck roughly.

There were people everywhere, she realized, so the auction-crowd must have disbursed throughout all the rooms of the building, searching for pleasures. She saw on the wall coming up on their right, two slaves, a male and female, hanging by their wrists off of poles attached to the wall. A small group had gathered around, and in horror Robyn realized that anyone was allowed, for a fee, to fondle or punish the slaves as they wishing. She almost groaned as a large man began to paddle the girl, her body swinging wildly with each tremendous blow, the dreadful sound echoing up and down the corridor.

But passed by, Martin hurrying her along with a few licks from the end of his leash. Robyn hurried so fast she couldn't even see what was being done to other slaves.

They entered a large room. There was carnival music and a happy atmosphere. Martin almost at once became jovial. Robyn caught a glimpse of various booths and vendors. They paused in front of a stage and she saw a naked girl stretched out and with a shock realized it was Nancy. She was face down, her hips on a small rectangular platform. With revulsion Robyn realized she was tied in place. The sign above read "Test Your Strength" and as she watched a powerful-looking man stepped forward and lifted a heavy paddle above his head.

Robyn almost screamed as the blow hit Nancy's bare buttocks, driving her deep into the ground and sending a white ball upward on a metered pole. At about halfway it changed its mind and dropped back to earth. The big man cursed and handled money to a small man near him and tried again. This time it was a little higher, but all Robyn could see was the agony on Nancy's face.

Nancy's bottom was already bright red and punished, and Robyn could barely imagine how excruciating the pain must be, but it was something else Robyn noticed that terrified her even more.

She could see below Nancy's hips was a large phallus, angled to enter her, and Nancy was writhing on it, using it. Each blow drove it into her unmercifully, and she was groaning and moaning miserably, but whether in pleasure or pain Robyn could not tell.

As Martin lead her away, Robyn felt her checks burning. To be so displayed, to be beaten with such merciless pointlessness, to masturbate in public like that, she knew she could never do such a thing.

But they had come to another booth, and here her master paid money to a man and led her to the front counter. Behind the counter were three males slaves, large men. She recognized them from the locker rooms, but did not know their names. There were naked and faced her, their huge cocks erect and hard.

Martin handed Robyn six colored rings and suddenly with shame and despair she knew what she was to do. She looked at him pleadingly, but his eyes were hard and stern. "You land at least one or I'll put you in the public stocks for an hour," he whispered.

With a sigh of acceptance and resignation, Robyn turned and threw the first ring. It struck the first slave's stomach and missed completely. Her second and third were no better, and Robyn was beginning to resign herself to the public stocks, whatever they were, though her heart grew cold at the thought of more punishment. The four ring struck the second slave's cock but did not stay, and the fifth missed the third slave's completely.

Cheers came from the other end where someone had managed to ring the first slave, and she felt herself blush with shame that she could not manage it. In despair she prepared for her final throw when Martin stopped her. He spoke with the manager briefly, who promptly produced a bright yellow wooden paddle.

Robyn almost groaned at the sight, and tears sprang to her eyes. But she was even more humiliated a moment later when Martin gayly called out to all those nearby. "My Angela needs some proper chastisement. Would anyone like to give it a go?"

Immediately a line formed, men and women shoving for placement, and Martin moved Robyn out of the way of the cock ring booth and told her to stand with her arms folded behind her back. She complied, her face burning. She blushed even more when she felt the paddle spreading her legs and Martin's fingers kneading and pulling her buttocks apart.

She was facing the line of people, and her heart dropped when she saw how long the line was. Already there were more than ten people, and more were joining. The first one was an old man, large and fat. But he knew how to paddle. His three swift blows left her panting and tears pouring down her face, her shame all the more strong by being forced to watch her tormentors lining up in front of her.

As the next, a pretty young woman, stepped forward, Robyn noticed the fat man joining the end of the line. He was going to come back again! But the woman was doing her business, and she too knew how to paddle. Her five stokes had to have hurt as much as the first three. Then there was another, a muscular young man, and then an old woman, and then several young men, and then two middle-aged women, and on and on. It seemed like the line was endless, which it was, in effect, with new guests joining and many repeating, the paddling went to on for at least a half-hour. Many of the guests had began to paddle her legs, as they were still fresh and ripe, and by the time Martin called a close to the proceedings Robyn was sure she was as raw as fresh meat. Just the touch of Martin's hand on her bottom left her in agony, and she writhed away from him, her tears pouring forth unsummened, her groans loud even to her own ears.

Back at the cock ring booth, Martin forced her inside. She was led to each of the men, and one by one had to take their cocks and satisfy them, while their owner paddled them furiously from behind. Then Robyn had to restimulate the slaves to their former erect status, so they could continue with their job.

Robyn thought that Martin had forgotten about the last ring she was to throw, but no such luck. Her throw went wild and he told her they'd visit the stocks later that night.

They moved on, Robyn again on her knees. They passed more booths, including one where three girls sat on counters, their legs spread, and people shot streams of water from powerful water pistols into their openings. It seemed the winner was the one that climaxed a woman first.

Another booth consisted of target practice, the targets being bare bottoms, cocks, and breasts, the weapons simple BB guns. Robyn saw a booth to her left where a gnarled old man would guess the master's age and weight by exploring the shape and texture of his slave's pubic hair. She breathed a sigh of relief when they passed by without stopping. She had not liked the way he fingered women.

They passed a large game area where two teams apparently used four slaves as the ball. The four were bound together, all facing inward, and driven with wide leather strips. Robyn could not see any way to score points, since mostly the two teams simple chased the "ball" around the ring, whipping the bare bottom and skin that faced them.

Just past the game was a booth that sent shivers down Robyn's back. It was a race. The contestants were male and female slaves, where the woman, on her hands and knees would take the man's cock in her mouth, and they would race other similar teams to the finish line. If the cock left the mouth it meant disqualification and severe punishment. The losers were severely spanked by a large black man at the finish.

Finally they stopped at another booth, and Robyn groaned when she saw what was taking place. This was also a race, but a race against the clock. The fastest time of each heat would qualify for the finals later in the evening. The course was like a miniature golf course, and the contestant, on their knees with their hands on the back of their neck, would push golf balls with their nose into the appropriate holes. There were nine holes, each slightly more complex than the previous. "Par" was four and a half minutes, but the record of the day was only 4:10. The real catch to the whole game, was that the master drove the contestant through the course with the slap of a paddle. And Robyn dreaded any more paddling.

But she was shoved into line to wait her turn, her buttocks already hot and throbbing. She watched as the current contestant, a young blond, tears pouring down her face as she frantically attempted to retrieve a ball that had rolled down a "detour" hole, sending it far off course, her master paddling her furiously for her mistake, urging her to hurry, the relentless clock ticking away. The girl desperately pushed the tiny ball up the hill, her knees and nipples bright red from constantly brushing against the carpet, her master paddling her thighs all the way up the hill, her gleaming treasures clearly visible between her legs as she reached the top of the mound.

A young man went next, his legs forced wide apart to keep his cock low so it would occasionally scrape against the carpet. Robyn shuddered in spite of her resolve. That she could be made so low, so much like an animal. That she could grovel and submit to such games and punishments. It was impossible. She could not do it. But then she remember that if she broke away she received nothing, no payment, no money, no anything except a very sore bottom and a lot of embarrassing memories. She steeled her resolve. She could take it. She would take it. In fact, she would win this heat!

Suddenly the woman before her was led out and in shock Robyn realized she was next. She stood at the gate, trembling, her stomach weak and her throat dry. All around her she could her the crowd cheering, the incessant slap of the paddle, the tremendous shame she felt for participating.

But she also felt excitement. The throbbing and aching of her breasts, the tingling of her thighs and calves, and the dull pain in her buttocks all reminding her of her sexuality, her attractiveness, her womanhood. She felt broken, subdued, but alive inside. She was eager to get out on that track, eager to hear the crowd cheer, even eager to feel the paddle stir her to life.

Then the gate was thrown open and Robyn stumbled through it, her knees scrapping on the carpet. The first blow from the paddle coincided with the whistle to start and she sprang forward, trying to ignore the pulsing wetness between her legs, the warmth there that more than matched the warmth of her burning buttocks.

At the first hole she rushed too fast and lost valuable time trying to regain and reorient the ball, the paddling continuing all the time. She quickly learned to be more careful. By the third hole she had figured it out. It was simple. Rather than trying to escape the paddle, she accepted it, received it, almost welcomed it. It was her timeclock. Each blow meant she was losing time. But if she rushed to escape it, she would waste even more time trying to make up for her mistakes. Though it was tough, she bore the pain and maintained control over the ball.

On through the course they went, rushing, rushing, rushing, the paddle ever striking. The blows were hard and fast and loud, and Robyn could hardly hear the crowd, just the crack of the paddle. The worst was her position, back arched and her face to the ground, buttocks high and exposed, her legs apart revealing her secrets, her tender breasts trailing across the rough carpet. Another annoyance was that the paddle never struck her the same way twice. It was remarkably inconsistent, each blow arriving as she crawled along, catching her left buttock this time, then her right, then right between the two, catching and lifting her up, then her thigh, then spreading stinging warmth across both cheeks, her face burning with shame and humiliation.

They had almost competed the course now, and though she had no idea what her time was, it felt like forever. She groaned as the ball slipped and rolled down into a water trap, but the water felt cool and refreshing as she dove into it. It took her several tries to catch the ball with her teeth, once dropping it after a particularly hard blow from Martin that caught her by surprise. It landed on the tender flesh on the right side of her right buttock, and the pain was so great she let go of the ball. But the water felt so good that she thoroughly enjoyed it, and even though she was forced to wait the mandatory five second penalty before she could bring the ball in play again, her buttocks trembling under the furious blows Martin rained down while she waited, she actually thought of sending it back again intentionally, but checked the thought almost immediately.

Suddenly they were through, and as she lay panting and trembling at hole nine, oblivious to the screaming of the crowd and the excitement from Martin. He pulled her arm and she finally saw the scoreboard: 4:08. She had beaten the time! She had the best time of the day! In a daze she heard Martin congratulating her. "You were wonderful! Incredible! At the finals tonight you will win it all!" It took her a moment to realize what it meant, and with an odd mixture of excitement and despair and pride, she realized she would have to run the course again.

The End