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Subject: {ASSM} Twelve Days a Slave 8 of 13     Slavery, Public Nudity, Flogging
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Date: Thu, 17 Mar 2016 13:10:02 -0400
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Twelve Days a Slave 8 of 13
by
The Technician

Slavery, Public Nudity, Flogging

<em> = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Slave missy is introduced to "The Whipmaster."

This is the story of a young woman's conviction as a terrorist and
what happens to her when she is sentenced to penal slavery. Penal
slavery is not impossible. The Thirteenth and Fourteenth Amendments to
the Constitution of the United States of America do NOT prohibit
slavery. They only LIMIT slavery to punishment for crimes. In other
words, the Constitution allows penal slavery.

After the woman is convicted, a "sentence negotiator" gets her
sentence reduced to a public day of repentance followed by eleven days
of public punishment. Following that, she is to serve one year of
penal servitude.

<b>This story deals with non-consensual punishment, pain, and
involuntary slavery. If such topics offend you or upset you, I would
advise skipping this particular book.</b>

There are thirteen chapters to this story. The chapters can be read on
their own, but the story is much better understood if the previous
portions have been read. The complete story is full book length. I
debated publishing it with some of my other books at Fiction4all, but
decided that I would rather serialize it and post it here.

A description of the thirteen chapters follows the end of each
chapter. On the sixth day of her punishment, missy is introduced to
"The Whipmaster." Before punishing her he provides a demonstration of
his abilities. The chapter is focused on public nudity, public
humiliation, and public flogging of one sort or another.

 = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =</em>

<em>WARNING!  All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of
18 ONLY.  Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content.
All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to
persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations,
and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real
life.

If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference
between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province,
nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts
depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to
somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if
acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is
included with the article.  This story is copyright (c) 2015 by The
Technician ( Technician666@Gmail.Com. )

Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this
story for personal, non-commercial use.  Production of multiple copies
of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly
forbidden.</em>

<em> = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Published eBooks by Wayne Mitchell (The Technician)
The Perfect Sex Toy http://www.a1adultebooks.com/book.htm?pr=9639
Senior Project  http://www.a1adultebooks.com/book.htm?pr=7753
Handcuff Island http://www.a1adultebooks.com/book.htm?pr=8160
I, Masochist http://www.a1adultebooks.com/book.htm?pr=8263
</em>
 = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
 * * * * * * * * * * * * 

<em>Chapter Eight - Slave missy meets The Whipmaster.</em>

William and missy's morning routine was quickly becoming exactly
that... very routine. For missy, each morning was coffee, bacon, eggs,
do dishes, grease herself up with the mixture of baby oil and baby
gel, get in her cage, ride through downtown, then return to the
fairgrounds and literally hang around until show time at two. The
routine had been basically identical for five days and this day was
starting out no different.

Shortly after William locked her into her cage, however, something
changed. Rather than immediately driving the ATV with the cage trailer
and the rolling billboard downtown, William stood around looking
nervously at his watch.

"Is something wrong?" missy asked.

"No problem," William replied. "He's not late... yet. He promised he
would be here exactly at 8:00 and we still have a few minutes."

He then went back to pacing and looking at his watch every few
seconds. Missy was about to ask who "he" was when she heard the
approaching roar of a motorcycle. Turning in the direction of the
sound, she could see a large bike coming across the fairgrounds
parking lot.

There were two flags fluttering on poles attached to the bike. One
was, of course, the American flag. The other at first appeared to be a
pirate flag. It looked like a pirate flag. It was black and appeared
to have the traditional skull and crossed bones on it. Something else
appeared to be fluttering above the flags, but missy couldn't quite
make out what that was.

As the bike drew up to where William was impatiently waiting, missy
could see that it was a Harley chopper. The front wheel had been
extended significantly out in front of the bike and almost every
surface of the bike- including everything on the motor- was bright,
shiny, chrome.

As he got closer, missy realized that what she had first thought to be
crossed bones on a pirate flag turned out to be crossed whips and a
oval signet-like emblem which said, "The Whipmaster" in old
gothic-style lettering. The unknown items fluttering above the flags
turned out to be long strands of black leather. The poles holding the
flags had been wrapped with leather so they would look like the
handles on a whip, and the strands were braided so that the two flag
staffs appeared to be huge bullwhips.

The man riding the Harley was as impressive as the bike itself. He was
in his late twenties or early thirties with a very muscular build. He
was wearing rather tight, black leather pants and a matching black
leather vest. Since he was shirtless, his six-pack abs were on
display, framed by the open front of the vest.  The muscles of his
arms rippled as he brought the bike to a halt alongside the cage.
Missy could see that the black leather vest he was wearing had the
same signet and crossed whips that decorated his flag.

He brushed his long, black hair off his face and asked, "Do you want
me leading or following?"

"Leading, by all means," answered William. "You do remember the route
we discussed, don't you?"

In answer, the man tapped the side of his head with his finger and
said, "Got it." He then smiled over at missy. His bright white teeth
contrasted greatly with his immaculately trimmed, shiny black
moustache and beard. For some reason, to missy, his whole appearance
and demeanor made him look like someone trying to be a rock star from
the 1960s.

"Let's roll," shouted William as he got on the seat of the ATV. "...
and remember to make three laps around the town square." He waited for
the man to answer. When he did not, he added, "And only three!"

In response the man once again tapped the side of his head and then
revved the engine on the Harley. Despite the custom pipes, the sound
of the engine retained that distinctive, almost musical, Harley roar.

As they pulled out of the fairgrounds missy said aloud to herself, "I
don't think I like him, but I have a feeling I am going to know The
Whipmaster a whole lot better before the day is over." She kept her
eye on him, but remained silent as their very short parade continued
on its morning route.

The crowds had gotten slightly smaller each morning as people became
used to seeing the naked slave being displayed in her rolling cage.
This morning, however, the roar of the Harley chopper and the huge
flags streaming above The Whipmaster's head as he rode through town
brought many people back to the sidewalks to watch them pass.

Missy wondered why William had specified three trips around the town
square. Usually they circled the square only once. As they completed
their second loop, however, his plan became clear. There were twice as
many people standing on the sidewalks on the second time around the
square as there had been on the first lap. And more people were
streaming out of the shops and offices to get a closer look at The
Whipmaster.

She wondered for a moment if they should take a fourth lap around the
square, but then realized that the crowd seemed to have peaked. It was
large, but very few additional people were coming out of the
buildings. <em>"Two wasn't enough,"</em> she thought to herself,
<em>"and four would have been too many."</em>

"P. T. Barnum could learn a trick or two from you, Mister Wilson," she
shouted toward the ATV. She wasn't sure if William heard her or was
just waving to the crowd, but his hand appeared to raise in response
and give a slight wave as they turned back onto main street to return
to the fairgrounds.

Once there, The Whipmaster roared once around the race track and
disappeared out one of the front entrances. In the meantime, William
drove up onto the stage so missy's cage could be raised to its normal
pre-show position.

After William left, missy settled into her pre-show routine of
watching the stage crew set up the equipment and slowly stroking
herself to a satisfying plateau of sexual excitement. She wasn't
seeking an orgasm, but she was making sure that she was turned on.
Somehow, handling whatever pain was awaiting her in today's punishment
was easier if her body was already experiencing sexual sensations.

There didn't seem to be much in the way of equipment today. There were
what appeared to be a dozen or so candlesticks set up in a circle in
the center of the stage. On stage left was what appeared to be a very
high spanking bench. From the restraints which were attached to it, it
appeared to missy that a person was expected to lay their upper body
over the padded bar. Their ankles would then be restrained to a low
bar on the front. Their arms would be stretched down to a similar bar
on the back side of the stand. The result was a very well-presented
ass and totally exposed legs. Missy wondered whether it was going to
be her wrists and ankles which were strapped to those bars.

On stage right was an upright frame consisting of two poles attached
to a wide base. Again, missy wondered if it would be her pulled taut
between those uprights while The Whipmaster did his thing with a
bullwhip. That thought caused her to shudder in fear.

<em>"William's right,"</em> she thought to herself. <em>"Knowing what
is coming is worse than not knowing."</em> She decided it would be
best to concentrate on what sensations her fingers could give her and
not worry about what some egotistical wannabe rock star with a whip
might do to her body. She closed her eyes and ignored the stage crew
as they continued to set up equipment beneath her. She did not ignore
her fingers.

Around 1:30, she heard The Whipmaster's motorcycle rumble into the
infield and park behind the stage. At 2:00, exactly on time as usual,
William strode out onto the stage and welcomed the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, drawing out each word into several
extra syllables. He was starting to sound more and more like a
ringmaster at a circus- or perhaps a ring announcer at a fight. "Today
is day six of our repentant terrorist's days of punishment."

William paused and missy could hear the sound of a motorcycle engine
starting.

"We have a very special treat for you today," he cried out and
suddenly the rumble of a Harley filled the air. The Whipmaster roared
out from behind the stage, flags fluttering, and rode completely
around the fairgrounds race track as if taking a victory lap at the
end of a race. When he got back to the grandstands and the stage, he
came in at full throttle in front of the crowd,  locked his brakes and
pivoted on his left leg, spraying dirt and gravel in a wide arc around
him. He stopped facing the crowd. There was a moment or so of complete
silence before the crowd erupted with applause.

"I present to you," William yelled above the crowd, "The Whipmaster!"

The leather-clad man bowed from his seat on the Harley and then bowed
once more after he had dismounted. He bowed a third time when he
joined William on stage. "The Whipmaster," William began, "is going to
be starting a world tour next month. He has chosen to sponsor this day
of punishment as a preview of that tour."

"Thank you, Mister Wilson," The Whipmaster said in a very
heavily-accented voice. 

Missy couldn't place the accent, but somehow thought it was false.
<em> He's trying to sound like he's from Russia or some place like
that,"</em> she said silently to herself.<em> "but I bet he grew up in
Chicago or New York."</em> She huffed loudly before continuing,
<em>"He talks that way just to make himself sound sexy."</em>

Missy looked down at him as he bowed once more to the crowd's
applause. This time, he bowed so deeply that his long black hair
nearly touched the stage. Remaining bent over, he reached out and
touched the finger tips of the women now standing at ground level in
front of the stage. Missy watched as scores more women of all ages
left their seats and crowded in front of the stage.

"Well," she said aloud, "it works." He was a superb showman and she,
as well as most of the women in the crowd, now thought The Whipmaster
definitely looked and sounded very sexy.

"I still don't like him," she said aloud. "... but I wouldn't kick him
out of bed."

He returned to stage center and a scantily-clad young woman rushed out
to hand him two long-handled black whips. 

"As you can hear," he said to the crowd, "I have a little trouble with
your language." He loudly snapped both whips above his head. Missy
jumped in the cage even though the tips of the two whips had to still
be several feet below her. It had sounded like a rifle shot.

He snapped the whips in the direction of the audience and added, "So I
will let my whips speak for me."

In response, the crowd roared their approval.

He snapped one of the whips three times and three more scantily-clad
young women ran out onto the stage carrying lit candles. They put them
into the candle holders and then ran back off stage for more. When
they returned, the fourth young woman was with them, also carrying two
candles.

The girls set the candles in place and then began placing twelve of
the candle holders in a large circle around him. The additional two,
they placed just inside the circle on either side of him. He faced the
left side of the stage and held both whips high above his head. He
swung them slowly back and forth so that the leather seemed to writhe
above his head like a thin, black snake. He then stood still for just
a moment and simultaneously snapped one whip to the front and one to
the back.

There was a long silence until someone realized that both candles had
been extinguished. The applause began with one person and grew in
volume as more people recognized what he had done. The Whipmaster
bowed deeply as two of his assistants ran on stage and carried the
extinguished candles- and their candle holders- off stage.

He then started snapping both whips rapidly all around him. When he
stopped, there was a smattering of applause, but for the most part,
the audience looked confused. All twelve of the candles were still
burning brightly. He looked around as if he were confused and then
shrugged his shoulders in an exaggerated way.

The four young women ran on stage as if to carry the candles and
holders off as they had done before, but this time, they stopped just
outside the circle and each grabbed two of the candles just below the
top. They then stepped back holding just the top half of each candle.

The Whipmaster had cut each candle in half without knocking it over or
putting out the flame.

The applause was deafening. He waited until the crowd had almost
quieted down when he once more snapped his whips all around himself.
All of the candles were now out, and the roar of the crowd was, if
anything, even louder than before.

He bowed several times from within the circle of candles, then grabbed
the top half of the four candles which the girls had not taken and
walked up to the very front of the stage. He was smiling broadly as he
tossed the candle portions one by one out to the screaming women.

By the time he had turned around, the four assistants had carried the
remaining candlesticks off stage. When they returned, they were each
leading a female slave by a chain attached to her collar. Each of the
female slaves had large silver bells hanging from both of their
nipples.

The Whipmaster waited patiently as the assistants positioned the naked
slaves to stand in a square around him. Then the scantily-clad
assistants took their own positions which rounded that square out into
a circle. In their hands, they each were holding more silver bells.

The assistants held out the bells in front of themselves, and the
slaves lifted their breasts as much as they could to present the bells
to The Whipmaster. The whips began snapping and the bells began
ringing. Soon a popular Christmas carol was ringing out from the
stage.

The crowd's applause almost drowned out the bells before the short
piece ended. The Whipmaster walked to the front of the stage and took
his customary low bow and then returned to the center of the circle.

From her perch high above the stage, missy could see three of the
slaves and all four of the assistants turn their faces toward the
remaining slave. She nodded her head quickly several times. All their
eyes returned to The Whipmaster as he once more snapped his whips
above his head. The then began- literally- whipping out the "William
Tell Overture".

After only a few notes, most of the audience recognized it, even if
they thought it was the theme from <em> The Lone Ranger.</em> He had
barely finished the opening bars, however, when one of the slaves...
the one everyone had been looking at, suddenly flinched and stepped
back.

"How dare you!" he screamed in his heavily-accented voice. "Do you not
trust my skills with the whip?"  He glared at her for a moment and
then said very firmly, "Back in place, slave!"

The girl stepped back into place, but again, after only a few notes,
jumped back out of the way so that the whip missed the intended bell.

"If you can't stand in place on your own," The Whipmaster said, trying
to sound very severe, "then we will have to help you."

He pointed over to the frame on stage right and ordered, "Restrain
her!"

<em>"It's a setup,"</em> missy said to herself. <em>"They were making
sure who was supposed to mess up."</em> Then she, and the audience,
watched intently as the four assistants carefully strapped the
pseudo-miscreant slave tightly into the frame. From the grandstands it
looked like she was struggling against them, but missy could see that
her movements stopped every so often so the assistants could properly
close the restraints.

"Transfer the bells," ordered The Whipmaster and the other three
slaves removed their nipple clamps and re-attached them to the bound
slave's breasts on either side of her nipples. The slave now had four
bells hanging from each breast.

"All of them!" he said, pointing his whip at one of the assistants.

She stepped forward and began attaching her bells to the bound slave's
body. Evidently there was a clamp of some sort already on the short
chain which the assistant was holding because when she stepped back,
both of her bells hung from the flesh of the bound slave's right
underarm.

A second assistant stepped forward and attached her bells to the left
underarm. The third assistant's bells were placed one on each of the
breasts so the slave now had four attached to each breast as well as
one on each nipple.

<em>"Where are the other two going to go?"</em> missy asked herself.
Most of the crowd was asking itself the very same thing.

As if in answer to that unspoken question, the last assistant stepped
forward and held one of her bells up in front of the slave's face. The
slave dutifully stuck out her tongue and the assistant clamped the
bell in place. She then stood in front of the slave slowly moving the
bell around in the air as if trying to think of where to place it.
Finally she lowered her hand so that the bell was dangling just below
the slave's crotch.

She looked out at the crowd as if asking, "Should I do it?"

The crowd roared out its answer and with a smirk and a nod of her
head, she clamped the bell to the slave's clit. The slave responded
with a very painful-sounding groan.

The Whipmaster again addressed the crowd. "First the tune," he said
and then quickly returned to the overture. Once again, the shouts and
cheers from the crowd almost drowned out the bells before he completed
his short excerpt.

Turning once again to the crowd, he said slowly, "Now the punishment."
His whips snapped twelve times in rapid succession as he was turning
back around and all of the bells on the slave's breasts and underarms
flew off across the stage. Her loud scream of pain was not fake as the
clamps were torn from her body.

The Whipmaster paused and swung his whips underhand back and forth
several times as if measuring his shot. Then both whips snaked out at
the same time and the bells flew from her nipples. The bell on her
tongue rang loudly and she screamed and thrashed against her
restraints.

He again swung his whips in preparation for striking. It seemed to
take him a long time to align his strike and the audience grew quiet
in anticipation. Suddenly one whip snapped upward and the bell was
torn from the slave's tongue. In response she thrashed even harder
than before, but her scream was very subdued. Perhaps the pain in her
tongue acted almost like a gag and prevented her from crying out.

There was only one bell left. The Whipmaster dropped one whip to the
stage and stood carefully measuring his strike for well over a minute.
Missy could see that almost everyone was leaning forward waiting for
this final bell to be knocked free.

The whip suddenly slashed out and the bell... rang. It had barely
touched it. He stood even longer moving the whip up and down and
staring at the bell hanging between the bound slave's legs.

The whip slashed out again, this time much faster and harder than
before. It came up between the slave's outspread legs and curled
upward against her slit. The bell rang loudly as it was forcefully
pulled off the unfortunate slave's clit. It continued to ring as it
arched through the air toward The Whipmaster.

Without taking a step, he leaned slightly forward and caught the bell
in his left hand. The crowd was on its feet applauding and cheering.
Their cheers were almost loud enough to cover the poor slave's screams
as she shook in her restraints. She was still shaking in pain as the
assistants released her from the cuffs and took her backstage.

The Whipmaster waited until all the clapping and shouting had almost
died down to walk once again to stage front. He stood quietly
surveying the crowd. He waved slightly at several different women
gathered in front of the stage. Then when everything was totally
quiet, he said, "For this next portion of our act, we will need a
volunteer from the audience."

Cries of "Me! Me! Me!" could be heard from the pack in front of the
stage. Several dozen hands were raised among those women and perhaps a
hundred or so more among the rest of the crowd. He made a big show of
trying to make a decision. At one point he even stood stroking his
well-manicured beard as he stared down at the possible choices.

Finally he pointed with the handle of his whip and said, "This young
lady... the blonde with the bright top."

A mid-twenties woman wearing a bright blue top and an off-white
pleated miniskirt started bouncing up and down a clapping her hands.
She was crying out in joy like she had just won some great fabulous
prize. Two of the assistants were already down front. They took her by
the hands and led her up onto the stage.

The Whipmaster now had a microphone in his hands. "Tell us your first
name, and a little about yourself." he said pleasantly.

"Julianna," the woman replied. She was trebling with excitement. The
way she was bouncing up and down, and the style of dress she was
wearing, she almost looked like a cheerleader on the sidelines of a
big game somewhere. "I moved here about a year ago. I'm one of the
waitresses at Club Risque on Route 12 just outside of town."
 The Whipmaster smiled broadly. He knew the place. Club Risque was
just that, a supper club with R-rated entertainment. There was no
outright stripping, but the comics were gross and the acts were mostly
scantily-clad women singing songs filled with innuendo while they
slithered around the stage from one provocative pose to another. Most
of the females in town thought a good old-fashioned, honest, strip
club would have been less degrading and humiliating for women.

The audience responded to her self-introduction with a low, "Ohhhh",
that swept through the crowd along with many knowing looks passed
between the men.

"You sound like the perfect woman to help me show this crowd one of my
family's holiday traditions," The Whipmaster said encouragingly. "Are
you willing to do that?"

"Yes," the woman answered. She was watching the whip in his other hand
as she spoke, and her answer sounded very tenuous. 

"What do I have to do?" she asked in a shaky voice.

"All you have to do," he replied, "is to hold the holiday ham while I
slice it."

One of the assistants joined them on stage. She was carrying a small
metal serving tray with about a twelve pound boneless ham sitting on
it.

"Of course," The Whipmaster continued, "I come from a long line of
Whipmasters, so our family traditions are a little different." Gently
pushing her forward into a bend, he said, "You bend over and hold this
ham on your back while I slice it with my whip." He looked down into
her eyes, "Are you willing to do that?"

She nodded her head.

"The audience would like to hear your answer," he said gently and she
again nodded her head, but clearly said. "Yes", at the same time.

"You are still trembling with excitement... or is it fear?" he said.
It was difficult to tell if he was speaking to her or to the audience,
because he was facing out as he said it. "Maybe it would be easier if
you had something to support your stomach to hold it steady while you
hold the tray. Do you think we should do that?"

She again nodded and said, "Yes."

Two other assistants came out on stage and guided her over to the high
spanking bench. Missy looked down at them an shook her head. "Lady,"
she said softly, "you are being conned. By the time this is all over
you are going to have a red ass."

Julianna didn't hear her, and even if she did, she was too far under
The Whipmaster's wily spell to care.

The assistants lay Julianna over the high padded bench. They pushed up
her blouse so that they could pull the wide leather strap across her
bare back.

"Comfortable?" he asked.

After she nodded, the assistant carrying the ham placed it on the
small of her back so that it was resting partially on her bent
buttocks.

"You are still moving around too much," he said. "Perhaps if you
grabbed that bar beneath your hands, you will be able to stay much
quieter. Can you do that?"

She reached down, but her arms weren't long enough. Her finger tips
barely touched the bar.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said. "I'm afraid we are going to have to get a
different volunteer... unless... Yes! This bench is used in a
different way in a another segment of my act. There are some wrist
cuffs that would hold your arms still. We could use them! Do you want
us to cuff your hands so you can remain still?"

Julianna was probably the only person in the whole arena who didn't
recognize that she was being manipulated into allowing herself to be
put in bondage. She nodded her head and said softly, "OK."

The Whipmaster stepped back behind her and started swinging his whip
as if preparing to strike. Suddenly he stopped and said loudly, "Oh,
no! This isn't going to work. I should have picked someone wearing
pants."

He then walked around in front of Julianna and said, "The wind is
blowing your skirt around. It keeps getting in the way of where my
whip needs to strike. This has to be very precise, so I need a totally
clear path to the ham. I'm afraid we are going to have to let you go
back to the audience."

Missy and everyone in the audience had one question in their minds,
<em>"What wind?"</em>

Julianna was tearing up badly. She had already invested so much of
herself in this and now it was all for nothing.

"She could take it off," one of the assistants suggested.

"Oh, I would never ask her to do that," The Whipmaster said as he
shook his head. "She would be displaying her panties to this entire
crowd. It would be asking too much of her. It would take a really
strong-willed woman to do that."

The assistant walked in front of Julianna so that they could see each
other's faces. "Are you a strong-willed woman? Would you like me to
take off your dress so The Whipmaster can proceed?"
		
Julianna hesitated, but then nodded her head. Her lips were pressed
firmly together in silence, but he didn't ask to her repeat her answer
out loud. Instead he gave a hand signal and the assistant walked
around behind Julianna and slipped the white dress down her legs.

Her panties weren't exactly granny panties, but they did cover most of
her ass. The assistant who had been handling the ham returned it to
Julianna's back. This time, however, it was almost totally balanced on
the edge of her buttocks.

The Whipmaster returned to his striking position and again began to
limber up the whip. He had just started to begin to move it with some
speed when the ham came crashing down to the stage.

"No! Not again!" he wailed. "I am so sorry," said to her. "It appears
that your panties are too slippery and the ham won't stay in place.
.... After all you've done for us. I am so sorry."

"Take them off," came a very soft voice. Julianna continued, "If
that's what it takes, take them off."

"I would never ask that of you," he replied, "but since you suggested
it..."

One of the assistants stepped forward and slowly pulled the white
panties down. As she did so, the bright stage lights reflected off the
gathering wetness between the woman's legs.

<em>"She's getting turned on by this!"</em> missy said to herself in
surprise.

The ham assistant picked everything up from the stage and once again
placed the tray more securely on Julianna's back. Then she reached
down and moved the bound woman's legs out slightly so they aligned
with the leg restraints.

Julianna did not resist or say anything as the assistant slowly
wrapped the restraints around each ankle.

The Whipmaster once again took his place and began swinging the whip.
After several swings, he brought it around in a circle and then used
his wrist to snap it down onto the ham. A section of the ham a little
over an inch wide fell over onto the tray.

He again swung the whip several times and again brought it around in
an arc over his head before snapping it down on the ham. Another
one-inch slice folded over onto the tray.

Five more times he snapped the whip down on the ham and each time
another one-inch slice was added to the tray. Now there was only a
two-inch piece still upright on the tray. He swung his whip slowly
several times as he carefully examined that piece. Then with a loud
swish he brought the whip through the entire arc so that the tip
slashed downward through the ham. There was a loud clang as the tip
hit the tray and Julianna jumped slightly from the impact which she
felt through the metal.

The Whipmaster turned and bowed to the crowd. The applause was good,
but nowhere near what it had been for his other tricks. It wasn't that
the ham cutting had not been impressive. It was very impressive. Their
applause was subdued because they somehow knew that this wasn't the
end of the segment. Something better was yet to come.

The assistant removed the tray and ham from Julianna's back and walked
off stage. The Whipmaster walked up directly behind her and stood for
a moment looking at the fluids trickling down her leg.

"This excited you very much, didn't it?" he asked. He didn't wait for
an answer, but continued, "Each time my whip cut into the ham, you
were imagining it raising a welt across your ass, weren't you?"

He reached up and traced a line across her ass cheeks with one of his
fingers. "The reason you let us strip you and tie you in place is that
deep down in those secret places of your mind, you were hoping that I
would use this whip on your naked ass in front of all these people."

She was once again trembling. Her head slowly nodded.

"Say it!" he commanded.

"Yes!" she screamed out. "I was hoping that you would whip my naked
ass!"

Her eyes went wide and her mouth formed an O of surprise. Had she
really said that out loud?

The Whipmaster was now stroking her ass cheeks with one hand while his
other slid between her legs to very lightly stroke her slit. "Would
you like me to whip your ass?" he asked. "I won't cut you like I did
the ham. I won't even break the skin. It will just raise some nasty
welts to remind you of this for a week or two."

His voice was very soft and soothing as he asked, "Do you want me to
do that for you?"

"Yes," she replied in a very throaty voice.

"You really should be totally naked for this," he said. She said
nothing, instead began to breathe deeper and deeper as one of the
assistants removed her blouse and bra. They had to uncuff her hands
for a moment to slip them off her arms, but Julianna did not resist.
In fact, she set her wrists back into the cuffs so the assistant could
re-bind them.

Meanwhile, The Whipmaster was continuing to stroke Julianna's ass.
"How many times should I strike you?" he asked softly.

"Until I cum," she answered. Her need was now as apparent in her voice
as it was in her body.

"I didn't quite hear that," he said. "I have to be sure because I
don't want to give you more than you asked for."

"Whip my ass until I cum!" she yelled out. Her whole body was now
vibrating with her need.

The Whipmaster stepped upstage of the bound woman's ass so that he
could deliver the blows from the side but not block the audience's
view. He snaked the whip back and forth several times before snapping
it out so that it landed squarely across both ass cheeks.

"Aiiiiieeeee!" she screamed, but she did not yell for him to stop.
Instead she began panting deeply.

A second snap echoed through the arena and she screamed once again.
This time it was more of an "Ahhhhhhh" than an "Aiieee."

Another snap. Jullianna twisted and thrashed in her restraints, but
the scream was again softer.

By the fifth strike, the scream had turned into a moan. The insides of
both of her legs glistened brightly under the stage lights. The crowd
was silent. Missy could see that a number of women in the audience
seemed to be almost going into a trance. Several standing up front by
the stage had their hands down their skirts or shorts.

The moan became louder with each strike of the whip until on the
fourteenth blow, the moan again became a long, drawn out,
"Aiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" as Julianna humped furiously against the
padded shelf which held her upright.

Now the crowd exploded in applause and cheers. Mixed among those
cheers, missy could also hear several other Aiiiiieeeee's- including
her own. Julianna was not the only one to orgasm from the experience.

After the applause had died down and the crowd was once again seated,
William strode out on stage to join The Whipmaster. "It is time now,"
he said solemnly, "to witness today's punishment."

Missy's cage began to slowly descend. As it was coming down, several
of the stage crew pushed a platform onto the stage. Mounted on that
platform was a metal pole about eight feet high. It had been painted
to look like a telephone pole and was about the same size, but it was
very smooth and the cracks and grain were obviously painted on. From
the top hung a set of wrist restraints. Their chain went over the top
of the pole and was secured on the back to some sort of winch
mechanism.

The cage settled onto the stage with a soft "Thump!" and William
unlocked the huge padlock. After missy stepped out, he removed her
chains and collar and led her over to the post. It was pretty obvious
what she was supposed to do, so she raised her hands above her head so
they could be wrapped with the restraints.

William then nudged her foot with his indicating that she should
spread her legs. She did and he nudged again. She was now very widely
spread. William then stooped down and attached a restraint to her
ankle. He nudged her other leg and she moved it even farther out. He
then attached the second ankle cuff.		

"This is called a Lambda Restraint," The Whipmaster explained to the
crowd. He pronounced it "lam-bu-duh."

Two of the assistants walked to the front of the stage carrying white
cards with a black symbol on them that looked very much like missy's
body did hanging from the restraints. "This is because," he continued,
"the person's body looks very much like the Greek letter Lambda,
especially if they lose consciousness and hang limply from their
wrists."

The Whipmaster then moved into position and William continued the
explanation. "The Lambda Restraint is actually the best one to use
when whipping because there are no posts or walls to prevent the whip
from curving around to the sides of the person's body."

Missy could not see him, but could tell by the change in the volume of
his voice, he was now looking at her. "In addition, the person being
whipped is often forced to press their body against the rough wood in
an attempt to escape the pain."

<em>"Rough wood?"</em> missy thought. <em>"This thing is totally
smooth. I could slide against it all day with no problem."</em>

"For most people held in the Lambda's grip, however," he continued as
he turned back to face the crowd, "there is no escape from the pain."

"Oh!" missy said aloud. She then continued silently, <em>"He's telling
me how I can get through this."</em> She tentatively ground her crotch
against the metal pole. <em>"This could work... or at least I hope it
will work."</em>

William reverted to his ringmaster voice and cried out, "Ladies and
Gentlemen. You are about to witness an attempt at a record. The
Whipmaster's record for consecutive strokes of the whip without
breaking skin is currently forty-two. Today he will attempt to extend
that record to forty-six."

He then walked over to missy and pretended to check the restraints. As
he reached up to check the wrist cuffs, his mouth was close to missy's
ear. "Don't worry," he said quietly, "he's actually gone well over
one-hundred in past years." He laughed softly and added, "But the
audience doesn't know that."

After William stepped back, there was a long silence- a long, long
silence- as The Whipmaster stood behind missy slowly moving his whip
up and back. The long leather snaked back and forth as the tension
grew in the crowd. Finally, when the buzz of the crowd dipped to total
silence for just a moment, he flicked his wrist in a slightly
different way and the whip snapped out across missy's ass.

The loud "crack!" could be heard throughout the stands. Also heard
throughout the stands was missy's quick shriek as she cried out in
pain. It felt as if her ass were suddenly on fire. To the people in
the crowd, it seemed as if the force of the blow drove missy forward
onto the post, but it was just her own muscles reacting to the noise
and pain.

The smooth metal post seemed especially cold as missy ground her
crotch against the pole as the pain reverberated throughout her body.
She knew that the only way she could endure the pain was to go into
the pain and hopefully change it into pleasure. Actually, it wasn't
pleasure she sought as much as the lessening of the pain sensations.

<em>"Hurt but not harm,"</em> she began saying to herself over and
over and over again.

"Crack!" the whip slashed once again into her body.

She again ground her crotch into the pole as she tried to deal with
the pain. A new welt appeared across her ass about a hand's width up
from the previous strike.

<em>"Hurt but not harm, Hurt but not harm, Hurt but not harm, Hurt but
not harm,"</em> she found herself repeating. With each "Hurt," she
pushed herself forward against the cold metal.

"Crack!" the whip struck again. The Whipmaster had moved up exactly
the same spacing to leave a third welt across missy's back.

<em>"He's more accurate than that robot,"</em> missy thought.
<em>"He's almost a machine himself."</em>

She hugged the pole as best she could with her shoulders and legs and
said softly aloud, "Hurt but not harm." This time she actually
believed it.

The whip cracked again and a fourth welt appeared on missy's back. The
distance between the stripes was exact. Missy again thought of the
machine which had caned her a few days ago. It had struck only as hard
as necessary to raise a welt and missy had been able to turn those
sensations of pain into sensations of pleasure.

<em>"Hurt but not harm, Hurt but not harm, Hurt but not harm."</em>

As she had with the robot, missy was able to slowly dull the sharpness
of the pain. With each strike, the pain became less true pain and more
sensation which the body could interpret as it wished. And there were
two advantages to being whipped rather than being caned.

First off, the whip was softer and slightly bigger than the rod used
to cane her. This meant that the area was slightly wider where the
whip came in contact with her skin and that it did not concentrate the
force as greatly at the initial point of impact.

Secondly, missy was held in a Lambda Restraint rather than bound
tightly between upright posts of a square frame. This meant that she
could grind her crotch against the post and slide her cunt up and down
on the smooth metal.

There were now two sets of sensations flooding her body, the pain- now
made generic by her concentration on the fact that the whip would hurt
but not harm her body- and the pressure against her cunt and clit
which could only be interpreted as pleasure. When the two sets of
sensations combined in her mind, they combined as pleasure.

"Crack!" the whip slashed across her back and she thrust her body
heavily against the post. The crowd could see her move and assumed
that the force of the strike was making her grind against the post,
but the truth was, she was pushing herself against the post before the
leather made contact with her flesh. That way there was a pulse of
pleasure that radiated outward from her cunt just before the pain
flashed outward from her ass.

From the audience point of view, The Whipmaster would strike and a new
welt would immediately appear in the exactly spaced pattern on the
repentant terrorist's back. Missy would then scream in pain and thrash
against the post, pulling as hard as she could against her restraints.
Many in the audience were themselves getting sexual satisfaction out
of watching this merciless whipping.

From missy's point of view, she would thrust her very wet cunt against
the post, almost crushing her clit against the cold metal. The
resulting sensations would drive her higher up orgasm mountain. Adding
to the drive toward the top of the mountain would be a sudden flood of
intense sensations as the leather slammed across her back or ass. The
combination of intense sensations would cause her to drive her cunt
even harder against the post as her body shook with the intensity of
what she was feeling. Needless to say, missy was also getting sexual
satisfaction from what appeared to be a merciless whipping.

William's voice came through the speakers very softly as he counted,
"thirty-nine." When he said "forty," it was a little louder.
"Forty-one" was louder still. Some of the crowd began to count with
him at "forty-two." More joined the count at "forty-three." By the
time the count reached "forty-four," everyone in the stands was
standing and counting loudly.

At "forty-five" missy let out a long, wailing scream that rose above
the noise of the crowd.

At "forty-six" her scream changed to a loud, long, "aaaaahhhhhhhh!" as
she thrashed violently against the pole and pulled against the
restraints which held her taut. Then she suddenly relaxed. She had
lost consciousness and her body slumped, hanging from her wrists to
form the true lambda shape.

The audience assumed that she had passed out from the pain. William,
and of course missy, knew that she had passed out not from
overwhelming pain, but from overwhelming pleasure.

The Whipmaster stepped to the front of the stage and bowed deeply. The
audience, already on its feet, thundered their applause.

He remained in his deep bow as William stepped alongside him and, when
things began to quiet down said loudly, "The Whipmaster will be at the
small platform on stage right to sign autographs for you. He will also
have the schedule for his upcoming tour and you will have the
opportunity to purchase tickets. His video, <em>The Whipmaster Shows
You How It's Done </em>," is also available."

When William had finished, The Whipmaster rose back to a standing
position and strode off stage toward the platform. William and two of
the stage crew, meanwhile, began to remove missy from her wrist and
ankle cuffs.

Missy was conscious, but not quite with it, as he led her over to her
cage. "Can you stand on your own, or do we need to tie your hands to
the bars to help hold you up?" he asked.

The question was enough to bring missy fully awake, "No," she said,
almost laughing, "I've had enough tie and stretch for today. I'll
stand on my own."

As the cage began its rise into the air, however, she regretted her
decision. She was planning on assuming her standard rest position with
her back against the back bars and her feet firmly against the bars at
the front of the cage. When she put her back against the bars,
however, the pain which had been submerged beneath her pleasure
suddenly reared its head to announce that her back was not only hurt,
it was harmed.

She could feel each welt stinging on her skin. She reached around and
rubbed the edges of the welts with her hands. They were raised and
very sore, but the skin did not appear to be broken. "Not harmed," she
said aloud, "but damn, that hurts!"

She ended up standing most of the hour of her after-show display time.
The only way she could lean back against the bars was to center a bar
in the crack of her ass and lean forward to keep her back off the
bars. Unfortunately, that would put pressure on her tail bone, so it
was comfortable for only a few minutes, but it did give some relief to
her legs while it lasted.

At the end of an hour, she heard the sound of the ATV as William
pulled the cage trailer up onto the stage. A few minutes later she was
lying face down on her bed as William spread copious amounts of his
marvelous medicinal salve all over the back of her body. Shortly
thereafter, the pain was replaced by a slight tingling sensation as
the medication did whatever it did to reduce swelling and hasten
healing. Within a few minutes she was sound asleep.

Whether it was the events of the day or the accumulation of what had
occurred the previous days,  missy did not awaken when William
returned after a while to apply more ointment. In fact, she remained
asleep as he returned four more times to repeat the application. He
decided to let her sleep.

William returned several more times during the night to apply a fresh
coat of the salve. By morning, the welts and bruises had all but
disappeared.

<em>= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = 

END CHAPTER EIGHT  OF THIRTEEN

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<em>Chapter Summaries

Chapter One: Vicki LeClaire is convicted of all charges. A sentencing
agreement is negotiated by William Wilson, a professional slave
sentence negotiator. This chapter primarily sets the scene for the
rest of the book. Once that is done, the action near the end centers
around public nudity and public humiliation.

Chapter Two: Vicki's "Day of Repentance" and her humiliating descent
into slavery, including being renamed as slave missy. This chapter
centers primarily on public nudity and public humiliation.

Chapter Three: The first of missy's 11 days of public punishment. On
this first day of punishment, Master Hiroya Takahashi demonstrates
properly-trained pony girls, and instructs missy on the proper way to
receive a punishment spanking. The focus of this chapter is pony girls
and public spanking.

Chapter Four: The second day of punishment begins with a flogging
contest by a company called Judicial Placements Incorporated. Her
negotiator... and new Master, William Wilson, flogs missy the required
forty-six times to fulfill the terms of her sentence. This chapter is
totally focused on non-consensual flogging.

Chapter Five: Slave missy's third day of punishment. She is once again
subject to a spanking, this time by the head of a private girls'
reformatory. Before her spanking, several of the young women from the
reformatory also receive public punishment. This is a spanking chapter
with bare hand, slipper, paddle, and leather belt.

Chapter Six: The fourth day. On this day of punishment, she is
caned... by a robot, or more accurately, by a computer-driven
mechanical spanking machine. Before her caning, James Madison
demonstrates his company's machines. This chapter focuses on
mechanical flogging, paddling, and caning. It also delves into
self-bondage and pain-pleasure.

Chapter Seven: The fifth day. Slave missy is punished by water
combined with heat, cold, and electricity. This chapter focuses on
various types of water punishment.

Chapter Eight: On the sixth day of her punishment, missy is introduced
to "The Whipmaster." Before punishing her he provides a demonstration
of his abilities. The chapter is focused on public nudity, public
humiliation, and public flogging of one sort or another.

Chapter Nine: The seventh day for slave missy is a day for
electro-punishment. Slave missy becomes part of the vidshow, "Wheel of
Pleasure, Wheel of Pain."

Chapter Ten: The eighth day introduces a unique punishment- punishment
by combat. There is also an undercard of slave wrestling with
humiliation and pain in store for the loser.

Chapter Eleven: The ninth day of punishment is a lottery. The public
is given the chance to paddle the repentant terrorist. Eight lucky
winners each get to give her five swats with a special paddle. One
lucky winner gets to finish the forty-six required for her punishment
by laying six swats of the paddle across missy's ass. The undercard is
also part of the lottery. Three slaves in need of punishment will each
receive 20 swats, again with one lottery winner delivering 5 of those
swats. In addition there are two volunteers. One is a male member of
the stage crew who is coming out as a pain slut. The other is a woman
who has been at every performance so far and wants to experience
public punishment and humiliation. Hers is a special case and her
husband will deliver however many swats it takes to make her cum.
Twenty-five winners were chosen to participate. Each was asked to
write a short essay saying why they should be the one to deliver the
final six to the repentant terrorist. The winner finishes off missy.

Chapter Twelve: This tenth day returns missy to old school punishment
as she receives an old-fashioned caning. There is also a contest
between slaves to see who can withstand the most strokes of the cane.

Chapter Thirteen: (Last Chapter) Slave missy finally reaches her final
day of punishment. After having been punished by hand, slipper,
paddle, cane, water, and electricity, missy is punished with pleasure.
She is strapped into a high-tech denial/teasing/edging device and
taken to the very brink of orgasm 46 times.</em>

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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