And then there's pain.

A sudden slap.

Then another.

Left cheek, right cheek, your head whipping around under the force. You gasp, mouth wide open, eyelids fluttering. As your eyes open fully, you stare ahead in shock, realizing it's not over yet.

The relief is tainted by a deep hurt, a coughing fit that makes you keel over, which you can, surprisingly.

No more leather strap on your stomach. No more ties around your wrists and ankles.

You can lean in and cough your heart out, raspy breaths trying to find their way into your lungs. The pain surrounds you for a moment, until you slowly calm down again. You're pushed back into soft cushions, a hand wiping at your sweat-slick skin.

You blink your eyes into focus and see your roommate. Mistress. The beautiful woman who decided to make you her pet. Somehow, there's clarity in this moment as air floods your system, reviving your numb body with agonizing tingles.

No more dildo gag.

No more restraints.

What happened?

You probably fainted.

Did you ruin the scene?

Fear crashes through you as you find Mistress' eyes. They are hard and dark, but there's something else on her pretty face: concern. For you? Or for the event she planned for such a long time?

You reach up a shaking hand, trying to connect to her, your lips parting, but no words coming out.

The muscle in her jaw twitches before she looks away, nodding to someone you can't see. Hands grab you, no longer groping or exploring, but gripping, forcing you into a sitting position. They turn you around onto your stomach.

You let it happen. You're too weak to protest, still caught in your mind, fighting the guilt creeping up on you. Your arms and legs are strapped to the extensions of the table again, leaving you in a spread-eagle position. It's just your head that hangs off the edge.

There's no strap around your back holding you down, allowing whoever is handling you to pull your hips up so your ass is sticking out more. A pillow is propped under your stomach to help with the elevation. You breathe deeply, forcing yourself to calm down somehow.

The position feels familiar, but you can't remember any pictures depicting it. No. But there are other memories that suddenly flush your clouded mind. And they don't make it any better.

A helpless sniffle escapes you, reminding the people around you that you can issue noises. Apparently, that's not something they want to hear.

Someone grabs your chin, pulls your head up. You blink, trying to see anything, but before you can, something is stuffed into your mouth, holding your teeth open. At least it's not another dildo gag obstructing your throat.

But the motion triggers more memories. Hazy ones. Red ones. Of pain.

Instinctively, you bite down on the object. It's soft but sturdy, allowing your teeth to sink in some while not allowing for anything else. You feel your saliva trickling past your lips and down your chin, the drip of it swallowed by the shuffling noises around you.

“My dear guests, there has been a slight change of plans,” you hear Mistress' voice, velvety, raw, vibrating through your core like a gentle caress. Though her words don't calm you in the slightest.

“Seems like my pet decided to faint on us a little too early, the poor thing. I apologize, I know we haven't really started yet. You will still get your turn with her, do not worry. But to get her back on track and focused, I need your help.”

“For those willing, my assistants will provide a variety of impact play items to you. Please choose one each and gather around the table.”

Your nape tingles, deep shivers crashing down your spine as you whine into your gag, struggling against your restraints. A hand presses on your back, holding you still. Your breaths are erratic, your lips trembling as you part them, more spit running down your chin.

“If you may, you will take turns. Please remember that only the flogger and the whip may hit her back. Focus any other item on her rear and thighs. Canes can impact her palms and soles.”

Mistress' instructions send even more shudders down your body. To your growing horror, you feel how someone twists your arms to turn your hands palm up. Someone else starts pulling off your shoes, before your stockings follow. Your garter belt is gone too.

Now completely naked and vulnerable, strapped to a table, with the prospect of being spanked in various ways, you feel your heart thundering in your chest. Your breaths are frantic. Maybe if you force yourself into hyperventilating, you can faint again and won't have to witness any of this.

But someone seems to notice. You feel two hands on your head, pulling it up slightly before a face appears in your blurred vision.

Mistress.

“Pet, I need you to calm down,” she says sternly. “Do not fight this, it will only make it worse. You know that, right?”

You want to shake your head, staring at her pleadingly. How should you know this? You've never been spanked before, or have you? Well, there are faint memories, but then again, there were no pictures. No lasting marks on your body that would suggest anything like this.

Or maybe you just can't remember?

A pathetic sniffle makes it past the silicone bar between your teeth.

“Bite down on your gag, relax, breathe deeply. You will have enough time to react and process each blow. I am not cruel, you know that, but you fainted on me, and you came without permission, remember?”

You frown at her, wanting to protest. How were you supposed to ask for your orgasm with a dildo rammed down your throat? But she clicks her tongue and shakes her head, her hand rubbing along your cheek.

“Be a good girl for me, okay? Don't embarrass me now,” she says, giving you a pointed look. “I know you can endure this. You've done so before.”

“Your body can handle it. Just let go, pretty girl,” she adds softly, leaning in to press her full lips to your sweaty forehead. “Do it for me.”

Your stomach fills with a strange heat, and you find yourself nodding into her hand. She smiles at you, further pushing you down a road you don't want to be on, but you know you have to.

You want to.

For her.

Anything for her.

She lets go of you and steps away, her fingers brushing along your tense shoulders. You focus on your breathing, ignoring the tingling of your limbs, and worst of all: the arousal settling deep in your core.

How can this possibly arouse you?

What is wrong with you?

But soon the doubts and questions grow quieter as anticipation makes you anxious, and giddy.

An eerie silence settles all around you, until you hear Mistress' voice again. “Allow me to deliver the first blow,” she narrates what can only be your downfall.

You brace to her words, wondering what object she chose. Strangely enough, you feel her fingers between your spread legs, pointy fingernails scraping over sensitive flesh. She seems to stand right between your thighs, one hand resting on your hip, the other exploring your folds.

“Look at this,” she says to the audience you cannot see. “She wants this. She gets off on it.”

Her fingers dip into your slick, a lewd squelching sound echoing through the quiet room. You feel your cheeks burning up in embarrassment.

“So do not hesitate when you play with her. She can handle this. Give her your best shot.”

And with that, she lets go of your hip before her flat hand finds your right ass cheek with a reverberating slap. The impact is so severe your whole body jerks against your restraints, a muffled scream trying to make it past your gag.

SLAP!

A deep pain settles right beneath your skin, scorching and throbbing. But with her fingers suddenly slipping into your cunt, you feel conflicted.

She's curling them, pressing her fingertips into your soft flesh. Then she hits the same ass cheek again, the same spot. You clench hard around her digits, crying out, back arching, hips bucking. The pain is so intense it bleeds into a strange kind of pleasure.

And it was just her hand, you realize through the red fog in your head. You can't even imagine what other objects may feel like on your skin.

Of course, you don't have to wait long. Mistress keeps her fingers in your pulsing pussy—you realize she is the only one not wearing gloves—as she starts directing her planned event. “If you may, we will start with a cane to the palm. Proceed.”

You hate how she announces it. It only makes it worse, knowing where to expect the pain. It makes you flinch even before the thin item hits you.

Though when it does, hard and sharp and sudden after all, you scream into your gag, convulsing hard on the table. You try to pull your hand away or turn it, but the ties around your wrists sit too tight.

As you still process the stinging pain radiating from your palm, a weird throbbing thing sitting right under your skin, your other hand is hit with the same sensation. A rapid whoosh in the air, a hard and precise hit, causes you to writhe and shriek again.

As you struggle, you feel someone holding down your fingers to keep your hand in position. It feels warm, your blood pumping erratically into the welts you're sure are blooming on your palms. All the while, Mistress' fingers sit still in your cunt, a gentle pressure, and you try to focus on that, on her making sure you're still okay during this endeavor.

“Feet next,” she says.

You sniffle, curling your toes in anticipation. But when the cane hits the bare sole of your left foot, it's like nothing you've ever felt. Even more painful than on your hands, the wooden stick thrashes against your soft skin, digging deep, or so it feels, a sting like a stab right into your nerves.

You wail helplessly, body jerking, hips grinding against Mistress' hand. To your biggest shame, your walls clench tightly around her fingers, muscles contracting as the pain crashes through your body, turning into a burning wave of pleasure—only to be disrupted by another sharp sting to your other foot, leaving you lightheaded and breathless as you bite down hard on the gag in your mouth.

“Thank you,” you hear the velvety voice from seemingly far away, even though she is still standing between your legs. “How do you think she's done? Will we allow her one orgasm? What do you say? Aye or no?”

Hushed voices echo through the room, barely able to penetrate the thick fog in your head. The pain still throbs warm and unrelenting under your bruised skin, your heart thundering in the same rhythm.

A chorus of “Aye!”

It breaks through your dizziness, and you sigh against your gag when you feel the fingers in your cunt moving, in and out, slowly. The pad of her fingertips rubs over your sensitive spots, poking and prodding.

“Come on, pet, you heard the people. Come for us, show us what you can do,” Mistress chants behind you, pushing and pulling her digits in and out faster, her thumb pressing hard onto the plug you've almost forgotten about.

Your whimpers are muffled, your stomach tensing up under her ministrations. Her hand moves in a quick sawing motion, her pinky brushing against your clit while her other fingers are pressed deeper into your fluttering cunt, thumb teasing your ass. In and out it goes, faster, harder, and the heat builds, wet and scorching deep inside you.

You thrash in your restraints, hips stuttering, thighs twitching, the squelching noises growing louder and more obscene. You couldn't care less, panting into your gag, eyes squeezed shut, focused on riding this high for as long as you're allowed.

Mistress gets even faster, really ramming her hand against you, into you, parting your tense muscles until you suddenly freeze. Almost choking on your own breath, your orgasm comes crashing down on you hard. The sensation is so intense your body convulses uncontrollably, twitching against the fingers poking deep.

And then they retreat.

Leaving you gaping and spasming around nothing, something warm and wet shoots from your core in twitchy jets. A strange wave of awing noises washes over you.

Your core keeps trembling, pussy pulsing, the relief so intense you can barely breathe. Then you collapse onto the table, completely exhausted.

A wet hand wipes over your throbbing ass cheek, giving it a gentle slap you barely register.

“Well done, pet, what a show,” Mistress says through the cotton in your head. “Let's see if we can make her squirt again. Commence the play, ladies and gentlemen. Floggers next.”

Her words reach your brain, but they don't make much sense. You're still somewhat floating, pleasure bigger than the pain that comes when you feel the various tails of the whip hit your upper back. It's almost a caress, a gentle stroking, but unlike the cane hits, they are not reduced to just one.

Someone keeps hitting the soft leather bands against your back, and each blow gets stronger, harder, until the pain finally settles under your skin, making you squirm and cry out into your gag.

The warm throbbing is spread out more, some spots more sensitive than others. But you're not allowed to focus on them, or turn them into pleasure even, when Mistress announces the next object.

You can't really hear what it is. You only notice that her voice sounds from above your head now. Shortly after, you hear the clicking of her camera.

Your core is hopelessly empty now, still spasming a little, with your muscles clenching around the butt plug instead. Bracing for whatever comes next, you are still not ready when it hits you.

A sudden impact.

A loud echoing thud.

The pain crashes through your nerves. Something wide and flat has hit your left ass cheek. Through the shivers, you feel someone standing behind you between your legs, a gloved hand gripping the base of your plug.

You whimper against your gag, grinding your hips to get away from the sensation. But whoever is in charge is unrelenting, poking and pulling at the plug before you feel your muscles giving way to release it.

With it gone, you feel something warm and wet dripping from your clenching hole. The lube, you remember faintly. You focus back on the memory of Mistress preparing your ass. You'd go back to that ten times over, anything but the continued pain from being spanked.

A different set of fingers pokes at your sphincter, larger and thicker than a woman's hand. You squirm, feeling the burning sting of your hole being stretched, muscles protesting, cold air hitting your heated flesh.

It's a strange sensation when the digits drill into you in a turning motion, pushing deep and with force. You clench around them instinctively.

At the same time, as you feel knuckles pressing against your rim, another dull thud, a reverberating slap, makes your body jerk. Your ass cheek burns under the flat surface of what you can only assume to be a paddle.

It hits you again, and the fingers move inside your ass, in and out, forcing against your tense muscles. You wail helplessly, hot tears streaming down your already warm cheeks.

A rhythm begins. Fingers push in, the paddle comes down. Stretch, slap, pain. Fingers pull out, relief. Fingers go back in, stab, push, drill deeper. Another paddle blow, always on the same spot.

Pain blooms deep within you. It's all around, spreading, hot and heavy, tingling, throbbing, igniting the bruises on your palms and soles, and on your back. Still, there's a strangely soothing heat building in your core.

Your muscles contract around the invading digits, your hole puckering around them. The motion gets faster, the paddle blows quicker, until they bleed together.

You scream a muffled scream as your body convulses uncontrollably. The mixture of pain and pleasure sinks right into your clit. It throbs and pulses, your cunt clenching around nothing, and still you come, hard.

Thighs twitching, toes curling, straining your bruised skin, all of it combines into an orgasm that leaves you dizzy, seeing stars dancing at the edge of your vision.

The fingers in your ass disappear, replaced with the plug again. But instead of tensing around the narrow neck, your muscles pull it in, too loose to assume their original state. You feel it slipping in all the way, deeper than before.

Nobody seems to care. Before you know it, you feel something solid press against your pussy, a hard edge forcing its way into your entrance. But it doesn't quite seem to fit.

“Try the handle first,” you hear a faint voice. “You have to fuck her open, the tight little thing.”

The words make you even more dizzy. You tense up badly when you feel something being pushed into you, slow but relentlessly, prodding until it slips in, swallowed by your clenching walls.

You groan into your gag at the pressure and stretch. A strange fullness adds to the overall tenseness of your body. You try to breathe against it, adjust to it, but it only makes your heart beat faster when you realize it doesn't change anything.

The item in your cunt is moved then, pulled out and pushed in. Its edges drag along your soft flesh, poking at the plug stuck in your ass. At first, the rhythm is almost relaxing, a continuous thrusting.

But then whoever controls it gets bored and impatient. It goes from a slow in and out to a rapid pumping. You gasp and moan, your muffled noises mixing with the hushed chatter around you.

It's dizzying how fast you're being penetrated, pummeled, hammered, drilled. Your muscles give way, allowing more to slip in, more to push deeper. A strange pain like a stab crashes through your nerves as it is pushed as deep as possible, poking right at your cervix.

You freeze then, hoping to alleviate the pressure. Your breaths are erratic, limbs twitching. But it's even worse when it's pulled back with a sudden motion that feels as if you're being split right open.

You're left gaping.

Empty.

Your walls flutter, a deep burning thrumming through your body. It doesn't take long for a new pain to take your breath away. It's bigger, wider at one side, flat. You know, as if seeing it behind your tight eyelids, that the entire paddle is forced into your widened cunt.

A low groan escapes you as it fills you up, more and more, pushing deep, aiming straight for your cervix. Stars and black spots dance at the edge of your vision, your body struggling to cope with all the sensations.

For a moment, it just sits there, impaling you deeply. The stretch aches low in your stomach. But it gives you time to adjust, at least a little. Breathe around it, relax your tense eyebrows. You even open your eyes, not that you would see anything but feet and legs in your current position.

Drool keeps dripping from your open mouth. Your teeth and jaw ache with how hard you're biting down on the silicone rod. But it's a good distraction from whatever is happening behind you.

Subdued voices, chatter and laughter alike, ring in your ears. The click and shutter noises of a camera take countless pictures of your predicament. The memory of finding these pictures in the first place, of seeing your cunt stretched around various objects, gives you a strange sort of comfort.

You've done this before.

Your body can handle it.

It can return to normal afterward.

Meaning it may be over soon.

Hopefully.

Though looking back, and it's hazy at best, you try to realize that, from a spectator's standpoint, nothing much has happened. There was this girl strapped to a table, a dildo gag in her throat, wrists and ankles tied. Strangers were allowed to touch her with gloved hands, cut off her clothes, grope her breasts, and poke her cunt.

She came once by the fingers of a random person, then bullied herself into unconsciousness for no apparent reason. Coming back, she had been turned onto her stomach, tied up again, gagged once more. She had to endure cane hits to her palms and soles, a flogger to the back, and a rather tame spanking of her soft ass.

Then she was allowed to come and squirted, before somebody decided to ram a paddle up her pussy. Looking at it this way, you suddenly know it is far from being over.

Something is shifting behind you. The object in your cunt is poked and prodded at, pushed further, harder against your cervix. Then it is being turned, its flat shape causing your walls to drag along it. The pressure changes, muscles stretched into a different direction.

All you can do is groan and whine at the fullness. It must sit, with its widest part, horizontally now, counter-intuitive to the natural form of your slit. It burns. The stretch feels forced, making it almost impossible to breathe.

It does, however, allow your ass to relax. In doing so, you give a little clench, a little push. The plug that has been swallowed by your tense muscles pops out slightly, seemingly catches on the handle of the paddle poking out of you.

You hear a faint clattering noise when it leaves you. A strange murmur goes through the room. A tsking sound comes to your ear.

A hand grabs your chin, pulls up your head. You can still only see someone's legs, the top of their thighs, a black dress sitting tightly around them.

“Oh, pet, you shouldn't have done that,” Mistress coos.

You blink tears away, trying to look up but being unable to.

“Bring me the riding crop,” she adds, causing you to shiver and breathe harder in an instant.

She lets go of you, and you see her walking away. The clicking of her heels is like an ominous echo, a vibration you can feel in your very core.

In your attempt to ground yourself, brace for whatever comes next, you clench your hands into fists. Using the sudden sting of pain in your palms to distract yourself further, it doesn't help much when the first blow lands on your body, right between your ass cheeks, directly against your puckered hole.

You scream into your gag, body convulsing under the impact. The pain is sharp and stinging, and so concentrated it makes you clench around the unyielding object stuck in your cunt, which hurts even more as your muscles can't really get it to move.

Your head is spinning, hanging loosely off the table. All the blood that's not pulsing under your bruised skin rushes into it. Your limbs twitch with the aftershocks.

Another blow hits the same spot, and the pain burns through you like wildfire, igniting every single nerve. You howl hopelessly, your sphincter positively aflame by now.

A third blow lands on it, sending another shock wave through your body. This one is accompanied by a sudden motion in your cunt as the paddle is being pulled out slightly, only to be shoved back in with force, hard, unrelenting, parting your soft flesh, sinking deep, poking your furthest point with agonizing precision.

Your noises bleed into muffled whines and grunts and cries. Your body is overwhelmed by all the different sensations. You feel even more lightheaded and breathless as the motion repeats, quicker and quicker, rapid sawing motions of an object that wasn't designed to fit into a human like this.

Add to that the throbbing pain in your asshole, and you find yourself on the verge of fainting all over again. But amidst the searing pain, a bubble of something hot grows bigger, expanding inside you, easing your nerves, your muscles.

For a moment, it feels good. Good enough for your whines to morph into moans. Your body shudders under the assault of sensations. As it reaches its peak, when your back arches and your eyes roll back, when your hips stutter and your cunt flutters around the object plunging in and out, you find yourself floating, frozen in time and space for a few seconds as pure bliss explodes around you like fireworks.

With your mind filled with burning cotton that takes over everything, the aches of your body barely register. They're just a faint thrumming, throbbing, stinging, a numbing pain that doesn't matter as you ride your high.

And when the paddle is pulled from your depths...

A last impossible stretch.

You think it's finally over. You can finally sink into the void. But luck is not on your side.

Something else replaces the rigid object, something warmer, a bit softer. It slips into your cunt with ease, making you groan, your muscles clenching around it. And just as you slowly come down from your high, the thing inside you starts moving. You feel it, its shape, its strength, what it's attached to.

At first, it's a gentle pushing and pulling, a barely there back and forth motion. Then it begins to pummel your insides with not so gentle bumps, internal little nudges that stretch your walls. You realize it's a hand, its knuckles dragging over your soft flesh, your depths molding into its shape as it pushes and pushes, a literal fist giving your cervix tiny little punches.

The more it moves, the stranger it all feels. The rougher its movements, bigger swings, deeper pushes. All you can do is squirm on the table, struggle against your restraints, howl into your gag. Your body convulses erratically as the fist keeps pummeling into your depths with force and vigor, eager to push you over the edge all over again.

Pain and pleasure melt together into a whirlwind of sensations, leaving you breathless and lightheaded. Crying and groaning, moaning and wailing, until you lose all control over your limbs and muscles as they twitch and spasm. Your core weeps, your wetness squelching out with every plunge of the hand.

It changes form then, gets thinner, pointier, still hacking away inside of you, unrelenting, bullying all those sensitive spots that give yet another layer to the strange mixture of pain and pleasure. You can barely breathe, barely function.

It all ends when the fist is pulled from your tightening walls with a sudden tug. You're left gaping, your muscles clenching in confusion. The heat just shoots out of you in erratic spasms as you groan and grunt and moan into your gag.

Head spinning, body just twitching, no longer yours.

Before you can fall into nothingness, however, you hear a set of footsteps. Then two hands grab your face, one wet and warm, the other almost cool in contrast. A soothing shushing sound comes to your ears.

You blink your eyes into focus, or you try. Everything's blurry. There's a thrumming ache all around you, mixed with an overwhelming feeling of weightlessness.

The leather strap around your head is loosened, relieving the strain on your jaw as the gag falls away, allowing a little river of drool to leave your mouth. The hands are back to wipe at it, clean your chin and your trembling lips.

“My good girl,” you hear Mistress' velvety voice close to you as she leans her forehead against yours, crouched before you as she is.

You blink again, trying to see her pretty face, her deep eyes. The first thing you do see is the smile on her full lips.

“You've been so good. Look at you, you took this so well. Such a good girl,” she keeps praising you, rubbing your sweat-slick cheeks. Her wet thumb brushes against your bottom lip and into your mouth, making you taste something sweet and tangy. You realize it's your own taste.

But you can barely react to it. It doesn't matter anyway.

You did good.

She said so.

You made her proud, right?

She leans in and presses her lips to yours, a short but sweet kiss that tingles in the back of your cloudy mind. You wish you would have the strength to reply to her ministrations, but you can't really move, still stuck in a place outside of your own body.

Though she keeps peppering your face with gentle pecks, brushing your hair out of your forehead, caressing your jaw, cradling your head. She's so gentle, and the contrast to how she treated the rest of your body makes you shudder deeply.

Slowly, you come back to yourself. Your limbs itch, your butt hurts, your cunt throbs. You let out a little groan against her lips, and she leans away, watching you.

“Do you need a break, pet?” she asks quietly.

You want to tell her to stop it altogether, no breaks. Breaks mean it will continue eventually, and you can't keep going like this. Everything hurts. You feel so empty and boneless.

But seeing her so close to you, still feeling the tingles of her kisses, how can you say no to this woman?

“Yes, please, Mistress,” you croak out, your voice nothing more than a rasping breath spilling from your swollen lips, raw and rough from all the voiceless screaming. But she understands you all the same.

She nods, caressing your cheek, before she stands up and addresses the people you completely forgot about by now.

“Ladies and gentlemen, dear guests, I thank you for your attention and participation thus far. We are taking a little break, so if you like, I invite you to grab another drink and some snacks from the buffet in the entrance hall. We will be back shortly.”