Patrick Part 2

I was exposed!

There I was, sitting on the grass, my mind and body still in the afterglow of orgasm —— by my own hand, which I knew was strictly forbidden —— and finding Headmistress Princesca standing there looking down at me. I’d never seen her so furious.

In the minute it took me to recover and come to the full realization that I was completely at her mercy, that she had the power to punish me in any way she wished, she continued to stare at me with a mixture of disappointment and utter disgust. In her eyes, I was scum. Lower than the dirt beneath her feet.

“Tell this worm to get on his hands and knees,” she told Mistress Amy, who of course said nothing, since I knew I’d better quickly obey the order.

“Tell this worm to follow me.” And I began to crawl close behind them as they turned and walked away.

Down the winding path we went, through West Park gardens, and out into the open meadow. I didn’t know where we were going, only that it was in the opposite direction of the main house. Five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes —— I was really afraid that my knees would give out before we reached wherever it was that we were going.

Finally, we came to the door of a cottage. Since I’d only been here at the Compound a month, it was one I’d never seen before. Like all the other cottages, flowers surrounded the outside. Beautiful. But inside . . . .

Inside, it was a very scary-looking place.

Stainless steel was everywhere. Bright, shiny, highly polished. Ice-cold metal. All instruments of torture. And nothing was padded or upholstered, nothing except the stools the Mistresses now sat down on.

“Take this worm to the bathroom and see that he showers himself. He has three minutes.” I hurriedly crawled to the bathroom, with Mistress Amy leading the way to supervise me.

When I returned, walking not crawling, Headmistress Princesca immediately blindfolded me. Then a ball gag was inserted in my mouth, the ends buckled closed behind my head.

I felt something cold against my dick and the next thing I knew, my dick was locked in a chastity belt. A tight little cage that had nails inside ready to puncture me if I were to get hard. Then I was lead to what I guessed was a sawhorse and bent over it. Chains were used to strap me on to it; I could hear the clanging as they wound around me. My ankles, knees, thighs, wrists, elbows, upper arms, waist, upper back —— even my neck and head —— were strapped down. My caged dick was also attached to something by a hook.

I couldn’t see. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move.

The sawhorse began to slowly rotate a little, the motor loud in the quiet room. I felt my head being lowered as my ass was raised up higher. My heart was pounding —— I’d never been so scared in my life.

Suddenly, a hand reached between my wide-open thighs and caressed my balls. It felt wonderful —— for the first few seconds. Then I felt a burning sensation and I began to struggle as I realized that the hand was applying some kind of very painful deep-heating cream. The hand continued to massage it in, totally manipulating my scrotum. Squeezing and sliding, the palm went over and around my slick balls, rubbing the cream in thoroughly.

I couldn’t stand it!

Then the hand glided over my ass, smearing that awful cream all over my cheeks, around and around, and in along the crack. Thankfully, the hand never touched my asshole, although I was afraid all the while that it would.

She finally stopped. But the burning continued. The pain went on and on, but after another few minutes it slowly began to lessen. The sting lingered, though, for a long time afterwards.

But whatever I expected to happen next, didn’t. In fact, nothing happened. After a few minutes of waiting, I feared I was completely alone in the room. It was so quiet that the only sound I heard was my own whimpering.

I don’t know how long I was there, but it seemed like hours. It wasn’t, though. It’s just that I’d never felt so alone in my life. Forlorn. Absolutely unwanted.

A sharp noise behind me alerted me that I definitely wasn’t the only one in the room. The legs of a stool scraped on the ground as somebody stood up and took a step closer to me. I heard a “swoosh” sound, and the next thing I knew my ass was walloped . . . hard . . . “bam!” . . . with one of those stainless steel paddles I saw hanging on the walls, I suppose.

Another two “bams!” in close succession and I realized this wasn’t an ordinary paddle. It must have a bunch of nails or something on the front of it that would dig into my flesh with each wallop.

The pain was excruciating. I’d only received three hits and I didn’t think I could take any more.

“Bam!” Another one.

“Bam! Bam! Bam!” Three more quick ones in a row. Whoever was walloping me laid her entire strength behind it. My poor ass was on fire.

Mercifully, she stopped then, and I was grateful, although I didn’t dare believe my ordeal was over yet.

I heard footsteps cross to the wall in front of me and something was taken off a hook on that wall. What was it?

The person walked back and took her position behind me again. Then another, higher-pitched “swoosh” sound and I screamed into my gag as the whip made direct contact with my asshole. Five, six, seven, eight, nine times it struck —— each one evenly timed, all in the same spot, never once missing this nature-made bull’s-eye.

Nine times. I waited, dreading the tenth. And although I heard her softly breathing behind me, she never struck that tenth time.

Footsteps again, walking around me to open a cabinet. This time I heard a “chinking” sound that continued gently as the footsteps walked back and stood behind me again.

I felt fingers grasp the tender flesh of my scrotum and then give me a hard pinch, which remained when the fingers were withdrawn. A clamp! She put a clamp on me! Then more clamps were attached, dozens I think, the pinching becoming tighter and tighter as less and less flesh was left free. My balls were still stinging from the cream they put on me earlier, so I was in considerable pain. And the weight of all the clamps together was so heavy that I felt like my balls must be dragging on the ground by now.

Then, suddenly, a slick finger slid into my asshole. It was pulled out and a cold metal douche syringe was inserted, injecting what I guessed was lubricant as it went in my rectum very deep and, then, slowly the syringe was withdrawn with a wet “plop” sound.

No burning this time, and I was relieved because they mercifully didn’t use that awful cream inside of me.

The front door opened then, and I heard a male voice ask, “Headmistress, may I enter?”

“Yes, John, dear. This worm is ready. He has been prepared and is waiting anxiously for you.”

(End of Part 2)

Copyright © 2001 The Dominion Group MissBonnie

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