Alana

Everybody in this story is over eighteen years of age and everything described happened to me after I turned eighteen. It ends well. Not in this episode, but later. And it was a great adventure.

I tend to use the same words and phrases in all my stories, e.g. calling my genitals my girlhood. So if you see my words in stories elsewhere please don't think I copied someone else. My stories are easy to recognize from the words I use (bunny hole) and the complicated plots: girl gets naked, girl gets tied-up, or whipped or screwed, girl comes. Happy ending.

Just to recap, I attempted to leave the island on which I had been made a prisoner, but was recaptured and strung up by my wrists, naked, to be whipped. My captors had just whipped a girl who bore a disturbing resemblance to me: eighteen or twenty years old, long blond hair, pretty face, athletic, good body. The witnesses to my whipping were to be one male, who was the boss, two other men of middle age who had kidnapped me, four younger male acolytes, and five young women who appeared to be under the control of the men, more like employees than prisoners. The girl who resembled me declined sex with the boss and was taken away. Another of the girls, a redhead, very Irish-looking, assented to the sex.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, three of the girls stripped off their simple dresses and brassières, leaving each naked except for a gold choker and a thin white thong bikini bottom which, damp with sweat from the heat, displayed the outlines of their genitals clearly. They wet themselves down further under a sprinkler and lay on bath towels in the middle of the grass before me. Two other girls joined them, wearing silver chokers and the same bikini bottoms. It was one of these later two, apparently an Irish girl, who consented to the sex and was taken inside. Stripped as they now were I could see some of the girls had nipple and belly piercings, and all had a tattoo on their bums. The same tattoo in the same place. One wore a wedding band. All bore marks on their bodies that they had been whipped, and marks on their wrists and ankles from being bound.

The four young men brought me beneath a large tree, under a solid limb about three meters high. I had been whipped in private scenes before and knew what it could feel like, but this promised to be something terribly new indeed. They held my arms together in front of me and fastened bondage cuffs to my wrists. A rope was run through the little rings attached to the cuffs and tied off, with the free end of the rope thrown over the tree limb. They pulled my body up so it was stretched taut, my toes just touching the ground. A few meters in front of me was a pole with a religious-style cross on it, reminiscent of Joan Of Arc. In the center of the cross was what looked like a jewel, but was in reality a camera that would record the whole thing, with me mostly looking right at it. Underneath the cross hung the panties that I was wearing when I was kidnapped. The message was I would be tortured until I willingly surrendered access to the parts of me that were normally inside those panties.

The young men brought over the implements they would use in my whipping. There was a short, hard rubber cord to use on my bum and the backs of my thighs, and a short, three-tasseled rawhide whip with knots in the tassels for my bare breasts. If needed, there was an even thinner whip tail for use on my genitals. I felt weak inside when I saw these things. I may have been a young woman of eighteen, but hanging there I felt as frightened as a little girl, shivering with fear at what was about to be done to me.

At length, the Irish girl came out of the house, presumably freshly fucked and now stark naked. Her complete nudity signifying she had given all of herself to her captor. The men made lewd remarks about sex and giving head. I looked carefully at her. I had never seen another girl in the nude just after she had been fucked so I wasn't sure what I was looking for. Of course there was no guarantee she had been done in her bunny hole. I saw nothing tell tail, except she rubbed one of her wrists which made me think she had consented, but nevertheless been tied down when she actually got it. She joined the other girls on the blankets. In a minute the man who had fucked her came onto the porch. He spoke and one of the older men, the man who was to whip me, took up a position behind me.

I was scared shitless, but the woman I had become sought to put aside the fear of the little girl inside her. I remembered the courage the other blond girl had shown, hanging there helplessly, bearing the marks of what had been done to her, silent, breathing softly. I could smell the sweat on her body and the musty smell of sexual desire from between her open thighs. She made no move to escape. She did not beg for help. The considerable agony she felt she bore silently. She just hung there suffering bravely in the sun, her physical beauty enhanced by the ropes that bound her tightly, her helplessness, her nakedness, and the marks of torture evident on her body. The men remarked on the utter wantonness of her hanging there naked, legs spread, her body offered. Gazing at her in wonder I felt the fear in my tummy, knowing what they were going to do to me, and did my best to ignore it. The whole business made me so fucking horny I could scream.

Somehow I knew I felt what the other blond girl felt. And later on, when I was kept in the cells with her, I learned we felt a lot of the same things. I learned her name. Jennifer. So from now on I'll call her that. Because of the respect I feel for her. I just loved feeling the sun's heat on my own naked body. I hurt already and they hadn't even hit me. My wrists had been chaffed by the cuffs, just hanging there on tiptoe. It hurt but the pain felt good. My shoulders and my back and my arm muscles ached from the strain of my body weight pulling me down. I was kind of heavy for a girl who looked thin because I had built up a lot of muscle doing sports, especially in my ass and in my upper thighs, but also up top in my shoulders and back. It was being both physically and mentally strong that was going to help me survive this, but I think my torturers knew that just hanging there by my wrists would make me hurt, and it did. But to me the hurt felt good.

I looked out at these people waiting to see me whipped half to death and I got even hornier just thinking about being there, naked and helpless. I had been whipped before just messing around and had some idea at least of what I was getting into. I was whipped in front of a private party and found it both humiliating and exciting. I let myself be spanked bareass in front of others, including boys, just to prove I could do it. It was embarrassing because not only was I crying, but my panties were down and all the boys got a clear view of everything I had. But it turned me on tremendously. I hoped the guy who was going to whip me would be good at it. Done slowly I had found it could be sexy even though it hurts. Done harder it's really painful, but it releases all those endorphins, and I knew I could really enjoy being hurt. Done right, the feel of a whip landing on my bare ass made me crave more and more.

I knew this whipping would be tough. But I knew I had to suck it up and survive. I wasn't going to give in. I certainly wasn't going to fuck anybody no matter what they did to me. Jennifer had been whipped because she would not consent to unwanted sex and I was the next candidate. My whipping was punishment for my escape attempt, but also encouragement to come across. Plus Jennifer was pretty nearly starved and so was I. I had had nothing to eat for almost twenty-four hours, and prospects for getting any food soon were dim. I would starve if I had to, at least that's what I told myself. I knew if I let them fuck me my circumstances would improve. But like Jennifer I meant to hold out as long as possible.

The man who would whip me told the Irish girl who had been fucked to take the hose from the sprinkler the girls had been wetting themselves with and bring it to wet me down for my whipping. A wet whip and/or a wet girl's body increases the sting of the blows. The girl's name was Ciara, which they pronounced chee-AIR-uh, or sometimes like the English name Sierra. She did as she was told, came to me with the hose and started from the top, soaking my long blond hair, going down over my breasts and my tummy, the part of my crack that was visible between my upper thighs, then down the front of my legs where I had had to pee myself, up my legs in back, over my ass and my back.

I studied Ciara carefully. She was the only girl there other than me who was stark naked. She had been left that way to advertise that she had been taken sexually. I laugh when I read stories where all the girls are beautiful, but these girls were, having been specially selected to be there and be filmed, because, as I learned, we were always being filmed. I was filmed when I was first brought to the island and tied naked in the dungeon. Ciara was filmed while she was being fucked. Jennifer had been filmed while she was being whipped. There were cameras on the pillars between which she was spreadeagled and one in the ground beneath her, pointed up at her pussy. There was a camera in the center of the cross, and one behind me leveled at my bare ass.

Though Jennifer was a prisoner, like me, the other girls were there more or less voluntarily. Ciara, I later learned, had come from Ireland to work. She wanted to make as much money as possible to send home and first consented to nude modeling. She had long red hair, a pretty face, flawless white skin, which now bore marks of the whip and having been bound, a nice rack, nice ass, long legs. Unlike me and Jennifer, she had a soft, feminine body. Like many girls raised in conservative Ireland she had been a virgin when she came to the US. Offered a great deal of money to come to the island, she surrendered her virginity, both pussy and asshole, in a genuine first-time sex film. Now the boss enjoyed her body when it suited him, knowing that the number of times she had been done could still be measured by a single digit.

The watering refreshed me greatly, hanging there by my wrists, naked in the sun. The man who would whip me came to me, around in front of me, fingering my hair, gathering it off my breasts, feeling me up gently. Then, going behind me, he gathered the hair on either side of my neck and pulled it through to the back, baring my breasts for the lash. Grabbing all of it in one hand he pulled down on it until my head passed back through my upstretched arms and my face looked up at the sky, into a camera attached to the tree limb above me, no doubt. Everything got filmed. But I saw nothing, had no thought, except for the ordeal ahead. Releasing my hair his hand traced my backbone down to my ass and he felt the smoothness of my bare bottom and murmured approvingly. I jerked forward when he inserted his finger roughly in my asshole.

Then I saw the boss give a signal. Behind me, I could feel the man who would whip me pick up the hard rubber implement. I looked at the cross on the pole in front of me, not knowing the camera was hidden inside, and prayed for strength. The message of my panties tied to the pole was clear in my mind. The girls on the blankets all sat up and stared. The young men moved a few steps closer. The man who would whip me positioned himself close behind me, measuring the distance to my ass. The muscles in my bum were firm and hard from endless hip thrusts in the gym. My cheeks, the perfect size to fill any bikini bottom, were bare. I closed my eyes and heard the whistle of the rubber whip moving through the air and felt the first strike against the snow-white skin of my bottom.

He started gently, slowly, deliberately, warming up the area. He was going to make me wait a bit. He knew the most exquisite part of being beaten could be waiting for it to begin. Little by little, harder and harder, minute by minute, second by second, waiting for the whip to fall. Feeling the fear in the pit of your stomach, and I felt it. The fire in your loins and I felt that too. The sweat under your arms, the feel of the ropes. Then he started hitting me harder. I struggled with all my might to loosen the ropes that held my wrists tied high above my twisting body. He hit me harder and harder and then finally I screamed as he hit me, seemingly as hard as he could. My naked body jerked forward. I swore under my breath. Then I swore out loud.

Now I screamed every time he hit me, again and again in the same place, right across my bare ass. He kept working the same spot to make it worse. Again and again, and I knew I had to be strong and I promised I wouldn't cry out. I had to take this for Jennifer. I couldn't get weak right at the start. I knew that if I was going to last without breaking down I had to get into a rhythm. I had to prepare myself for the next stroke before it came. I tensed my arm muscles and pulled on my ropes and he hit me again, harder, still right across my ass, the same place, and my flesh just burned where he hit me. I screwed my eyes shut and tried to talk to myself to make the pain go away, but I started to cry out again.

Now the blows came faster, to keep me off balance. I screamed out loud. He was working my ass beautifully, getting both cheeks in the same spot every time. He kept on and on and I screamed more and more and my breath started to come harder and I couldn't recover in between strokes in time for the next one. My body jerked forward each time and I tried to twist to either side, but it didn't seem to work because the rubber whip just wrapped around my bum and I couldn't believe the pain I was in. I started to cry and my ass was on fire and my body writhed with the pain and I was pleading to God to help me and cursing my own body for causing me all this pain. The more and more he hit me the more I struggled.

I tried desperately to keep my mouth shut but I couldn't, I pleaded, I screamed, I cried. My whole body tightened in self-defense as I tried to steel myself against the next blow. As my ass burned hotter a dull ache consumed my arms and my shoulders and my upper body from struggling to get free. I had trouble getting my breath. The more he hit me the harder it was to get enough air. The more my breasts heaved the less air I got. My whole body was taut and sweating. I started to get fuzzy in the head. Things started to bounce around in my brain and went from side to side. I was half dead already and he'd only hit me on my ass and then I suddenly went limp and just kind of collapsed and hung from my ropes and he hit me a few more times and then things went grey and then black I guess I passed out.

At any rate, the next thing I knew he had stopped hitting me and the girl Ciara was trying to get me to drink some water. I was still tied up and she was still naked and I felt the softness of her bare breasts against mine as she held the water bottle up to my face and then I felt her free hand go down the front of my nude body and I welcomed some tenderness, even from another girl. Things kind of swirled around, but after a bit and some water I was at least aware of what was happening to me. I still hurt just about everywhere, but mostly I could feel the pain of my ass burning and I didn't know what I was doing and all I could do was hang there trying to recover and find some sort of courage to stand up to what they were doing to me. It was hot as hell and I was soaking wet from sweat and the water the girl Ciara covered me with at the start. She kept giving me more water, the first I could remember since I was kidnapped twenty-four hours before, and I kept hanging there.

At length I felt some better. Unbelievably I thought I could smell food cooking and I was starving. I hadn't eaten in twenty-four hours either. They were serving food on the porch of the house and there was a real buffet with people actually doing the cooking for all of them. I asked Ciara for something to eat but she said no, she couldn't give me anything, and I believed her. At least I wasn't so thirsty anymore. Then she went to get her own food and after a few minutes, after she ate her own lunch, she came back to me with a paper plate with some pieces of chicken and said she could give me a little and she stayed with me, feeding me the chicken in little bites. It wasn't much but it was the first bit of kindness I had been shown since I had been abducted.

I asked her why they were doing this and if they beat her and she told me sometimes they did, but they paid her and if she cooperated she was treated well. She said sometimes they forced her to do things she didn't want to do, but mostly all they wanted was photos, but I knew they fucked her and made her give guys head. She showed me the camera in the cross and told me if I cooperated they would treat me well and that Jennifer was punished because she would not do what they asked. She got me more to eat and a soft drink and helped me to get the stuff down. I asked her why she was naked and she told me the head man had told her she had to stay naked because he liked her that way. She told me again I should tell the man who was whipping me I would cooperate because the worst was yet to come, when they whipped my bosom and maybe even in between my legs, but I knew I had to try and stay strong and told her I didn't think I could. I wanted to be strong like Jennifer.

Finally, after lunch, everyone got settled back on the lawn and the man who had been whipping me came back and asked me if I wanted to continue or cooperate. I told him continue and he told me I would regret it. While he talked to me he stroked my face gently and pushed my hair up out of the way behind my head, baring my breasts for what was to come. He started caressing my boobs gently and looking me right in the eye. I tried to avoid his glance and he asked me if I knew what he was going to do to me now and I told him yes, and he told me how much it would hurt me and that he really didn't want to do it, and asked me if I really wanted my breasts hurt. I knew about the German interrogation technique called Scharff: a friendly approach, talking to the prisoner, giving advice, offering rewards and giving her choices, like asking me if I wanted my breasts tortured or not. I said nothing.

I knew what he wanted. Whipping my ass was all fine and good, but the essence of a girl is the front of her, her breasts and her cunt, and we both knew it. He would use those girl parts to break me. His eyes fairly bored their way into my pale white bosom. I tried again to gather strength for what was to come, but my body had other ideas. I was half frozen with fear. I was weak with the pain of what had already been done to me. Pain and fear are a tough combination. Simply holding myself up took an effort. I was aware of every ache in my body. Escaping was hopeless. I tried writhing and squirming and pulling and all I did was make my wrists start to bleed. My breath came in short gasps and the sweat poured down the front of me.

Again he talked to me. All I had to do is relent, he said. All I had to do was agree to cooperate. He didn't say it but I knew it. All I had to do was surrender my moist pink pussy and in return my pale white breasts would be spared. All I had to do was surrender. I closed my eyes and felt his fingers caress my nude body. Every inch of me shivered with pleasure at the gentle touch of his hand. Gently he stroked my soft, smooth breasts, moved down over my ribs to the flat plain of my tummy, ever closer to the warm wetness of my cunt. I felt the blood pumping in my willing body and I moaned softly and pumped my hips involuntarily like I was fucking somebody.

I felt his finger in my belly button then over the little blond fuzz just above my bunny hole. Then he was opening me up and I flinched as he found my clit. All I have to do, all I have to do is say so and this pleasure replaces the pain that aches in every fiber from my wrists to my knees. All I have to do is surrender my soft young body. I thought about it. I did. All I had to do was say yes. I looked him in the eye. My whole body trembled with the excitement of having his fingers inside me. There inside me, with two hundred people watching. All I have to do is surrender and my soft young body is theirs. But it isn't. It's mine. I said no.