As Polly Menard and her girl friends disappeared into the lobby, the mayor of Johnson took Romy's arm and escorted her back to the stage, plunking her again in the seat beside him to watch the next show in the Summer Fuck Festival. Before I had time to reflect on what the next act in this festival of sexual excess might be, the sheriff and two deputies appeared beside me and muscled me over to the St. Andrews cross in the middle of the hall.
I had no time to think as they pushed me up against the cross with my back to it. They grabbed my wrists and pulled them over my head, attaching them spread wide to the upper arms with restraints bolted to the wood. The same happened to my ankles attached to the lower arms of the cross, thus spreading my legs open and ready for abuse.
A tall woman with short, black hair approached me wearing a black rubber mask, a black leather belt hung with whips, knee-length black leather boots, and nothing else. She moved with a feline grace, so I thought of her as the Cat Woman, a black cat who was crossing my path.
Her boobs were large and round with little pink nipples, and her dark cunt hair had been trimmed into a narrow landing strip. She was flicking a riding crop menacingly but said nothing, surveying my naked form from several angles. Then without warning, the first blow landed directly on my erect penis.
At the time of the first searing pain in my penis, I felt outrage that, in this Land of the Giant Penis where men were so dominant, I should be sexually abused and punished. I learned later that although the men of Johnson were expected to be dominant all the time, many had developed a strong need to lay aside their burden of responsibility from time to time and let a woman dominate them. So the Land of the Giant Penis also had a dominatrix, a woman who could provide men with the release of being sexually submissive.
The good citizens of Johnson wanted me to understand this in a direct and painful way. "Aaaiiiooooo," I yelled as more blows fell up and down the shaft of my penis, followed by a couple of well aimed slaps with the leather tip of the riding crop on my testicles.
The Cat Woman then delivered great, sweeping, side-to-side slaps of my penis with her open hand, back and forth, back and forth, alternating slaps with vigorous frigging of my shaft to keep it stiff and vibrating with arousal but not ejaculating. Pain, then pleasure: repeat.
She stepped back and motioned to two deputies who unlocked my ankle cuffs and elevated my legs up and back to another set of rings on the upper arms and locked them down. This completely exposed my cock, balls, and asshole to her attack. She chose a black flogger with short, leather tails and began to flog my thighs, buttocks, and anus, landing random blows on my cock and balls for good measure.
When my bum and asshole had turned fiery red, she extended her hand to feel their heat and feel my tortured body trembling. With a satisfied sneer, she took a dildo out of the pouch on her belt and greased it with a thick cream from a squeeze tube.
The blue plastic dildo had a knurled surface—little cross-hatched lines cut into it—and a tapered shape, narrow at the tip rising in a series of bumps to a thick shaft and handle. This she jammed into my bum hole in a series of twisting pushes that forced my anus to open wide. "Aaaarrrgghh," I yelled as the dildo invaded my rectum.
At the same time, the cream that the Cat Woman had slathered on the dildo, cream that had worked its way into the dildo's cross-hatched surface, coated the inner walls of my rectum liberally and deeply as she twisted and turned the intruder. The cream contained an irritant that burned and itched and a medication that made me horny as hell. My cock stood up harder and stiffer than it ever had, an iron bar with a velvet head bobbing up to my navel. This she commenced to frig again with one hand while the other continued to screw the dildo into my bum.
Then she stopped. From the pouch on her belt, she took two large gunmetal clamps and attached them firmly to my nipples, wiggling them hard to ensure they were embedded securely in my tender flesh. Then she removed two lead weights from the pouch and hooked them onto the ends of each of the nipple clamps. The weights looked and felt like musket balls that bounced and danced with every motion of my body, pulling on the clamps and stretched the soft tissue of my nipples. Then she started again to frig my cock and fuck my bum with the dildo.
The Cat Woman alternated like that for a long time, stroking my penis expertly and stopping in order to deny me the release of an orgasm. Then she decided to apply more pain. From her pouch she took two more clamps, gripped the loose skin on my scrotum, and attached the clamps to my balls, adding lead weights that stretched my ball sac grotesquely toward the floor.
From her devil's pouch, the Cat Woman then withdrew two long needles which she proceeded to push mercilessly in opposite directions entirely through my testicles as I screamed and pulled uselessly at the chains that held me to the cross.
She returned to frigging my penis into a cock stand that stuck out straight from my scrotum. Caught as I was between pain and pleasure, I didn't notice the Cat Woman unhook another whip from her black belt, this one a long, thin strand of leather on a long handle. The renewed jolt of pain in my penis as the whip wrapped its stinging leather around my shaft soon brought me back to full awareness. As the whipping continued, my mind became lost in a haze between the extreme sensations of pleasure and pain, locked onto the St. Andrew's cross in full view of the crowd of naked festival goers.
In a sudden moment of awareness, I found myself looking toward the stage, vainly hoping to catch sight of Romy. Instead, I saw the sheriff and his deputies intently watching my cock and ball torture and speaking to the mayor, who seemed to nod in agreement. They approached the St. Andrew's cross and, to my great relief, motioned to the Cat Woman to stop.
After another gesture of command, she removed the needle from my testicles and the clamps on my nipples and balls. The mayor then motioned the deputies to release me from my bonds and help me down to the floor while others moved the cross to a side wall. I was then frog marched over to the thick, circular mattress hung with straps and restraints on the rotating stage where Polly Menard had been deflowered. The white cotton sheet was still stained with her hymeneal blood.
Next the crowd parted and the deputies brought forward the naked, struggling figure of a young woman of about twenty-five. They forced her down onto the mattress on her back and secured her wrists to the side restraints. In the same manner, they fastened her shapely long legs spread out wide to the sides of the mattress and stood back to let the crowd take in the spectacle of this next victim of lust.
This maiden fair, I learned, was Brittany Dean, considered to be the least submissive young woman in Johnson. The mayor and council had decided to force her to submit to me, the stranger, as a public lesson in proper humility and surrender to men's lusts. They also wanted to test my sexual resilience after my ordeal on the St. Andrew's cross. The test was a sexual performance on top of this young woman who was most reluctant to submit to a fucking.
Her skin was pale as milk, and her breasts were large, round love bubbles topped with succulent strawberry nipples. Her face was a perfectly symmetrical oval framed with a riot of thick, wavy reddish blonde hair that flowed down her cheeks and throat onto her substantial breasts. Her eyes flashed green and her freckled nose flared as she snarled at her captors, twisting her full, sensuous lips into a snarl of defiance that curved upwards at the corners toward dimpled cheeks. She was a goddess, alright, however warlike. I wanted her as soon as I saw her.
