The Punishment Park:
Three simple words that fill every naked slave with fear and trepidation.
Slaves and their owners are allowed to go to the head of the line and enter the park ahead of everybody else. We also gain entrance into the park for free. The naked slaves are the entertainment for all of the paying tourists, so I suppose that makes sense, still we slaves don't much appreciate the special treatment. Our time in the Punishment Park usually involves a lot of stinging, throbbing, miserable pain inflicted by whips, riding crops, nipple clamps or some other dreaded torture device.
Of course the naked slaves who are the recipients of these distressing punishments are turned over to park employees at the outset so that they can be subjected to a humiliating body-cavity search. There's no legitimate security reason for the search; the park employees just like to humiliate the slaves before the punishments begin.
"Turn around," A tall, intimidating-looking woman ordered me and of course, I obeyed. It's a slave's lot in life to be obedient whenever a clothed person gives us a command.
Then she ordered me to bend over and grab my ankles. Without being told, I spread my feet far apart. It satisfied the Sessian tradition where slaves expose their genitals as much as possible as well as making it easier for me to balance.
While I was staring down at the floor and I could feel the strain as my triceps were being stretched, I couldn't see the face of the park employee, but I could sort of sense that she was smirking at my predicament.
First she smeared thick, cold lubricating gel in between my buttocks and all over my exposed anus and then she stabbed her fingers into me, forcing my anus open and probing deep into my anal cavity. I whimpered as her fingers crudely forced their way in and probed deep, pretending to search for contraband inside of me.
Her malicious fingers explored my interior far longer than was strictly necessary and then she removed her fingers from my anus, pulled off her original latex glove and snapped on a fresh one.
"Let's see what you've got in here," she said jovially as she inserted two fingers into my throbbing sex. I was already wet and saturated with sexual tension, but the park employee probed, stroked and explored my vagina in an apparent effort to make me moan and whimper. If she was actually doing an honest body-cavity search she would have finished up in like three or four seconds, but this woman just kept probing and stoking and fingering far longer than that. My legs were trembling and I was panting with sexual desire and beginning to sweat by the time she was finished.
Having worked my sexual need up to a fever pitch, she removed her fingers from my throbbing vagina and told me I could stand up.
"You're clean," she said, "Now go and enjoy the park."
I wanted to say something bitter and angry in response, but that would have just gotten me into more trouble. Instead I gave her a smile that concealed the resentment I felt towards her and allowed Gretchen to lead me deeper into the park that so many slaves have grown to fear.
With the assistance of another park employee, Gretchen soon obtained some rope and then I was ordered to place my arms behind me; above the small of her back; wrists against my elbows.
I could sort of anticipate what was coming next, so it was no surprise when Gretchen took the nylon rope and bound my wrist and basically tied my right wrist to my left elbow. My left wrist was similarly bound to my right elbow. There were also ropes that bound my arms closer together behind my back, making the whole thing more secure and impossible to escape from, no matter how much I struggled.
Even after my hands were helplessly bound behind my back, there were still ropes left over. I didn't guess right away what those were for.
Gretchen took one rope and snaked it between my legs, pulling it tightly between my butt-cheeks and then yanking it painfully between the sensitive, tender swollen folds of my pubic lips. While Gretchen was doing that, the park employee took a different length of rope and tied it tightly around my waist. In the end, the rope that was yanked up between my pubic lips was tied off in the back around my waist and in the front around my waist as well. Then another rope was added with great difficulty to the crotch rope to act as a leash, so that Gretchen could lead me around the park by tugging on it.
Merely
walking
with the nylon rope biting deep into my labia hurt bad enough, but every time Gretchen pulled on the rope, the rope buried itself even deeper inside of me and the biting sting of the rope hurt even worse. "Mistress, I can't walk like this," I protested, "The rope is cutting my pussy in two!"
"You can do it," Gretchen calmly assured me.
Tears welled up in my eyes and I began to cry. Gretchen reminded me of my sin trying to indulge my lusts and having an orgasm without her permission. "Bad girls who can't control their shameless sexual cravings get their naughty pussies punished. I hope punishment helps you to remember that fact."
I was forced to walk around the park like that, being led by my sore, tortured pussy with Gretchen pulling on that loathsome rope. I was forced to walk past dozens of naked slaves, fully-clothed tourists, and uniformed park employees and of course members of the European media who filmed me or snapped photos of my painful predicament.
To add to my shame, Gretchen would stop and inform random people in the park exactly why I was being punished with a piece of rope being pulled up tightly in between my poor, sensitive pubic lips. "She couldn't control her sexual appetites," Gretchen would tell them, "Tried to get a girl from our hotel to play with her pussy and finger her to orgasm."
To make matters worse, a park employee followed us around and would occasionally whip my already sore bottom with a stinging leather whip when she thought I wasn't walking fast enough. I was made to walk around the punishment park at least six times before Gretchen stopped leading me around by that dratted leash and the painful crotch-rope was removed from between my poor, abused pubic lips.
"Oh God,"
I exclaimed as the rope was pulled out. My pussy lips were raw from having that rope biting deep into my tender flesh. I wondered if I would ever walk normal again.
While I was still sobbing from the pain of how Gretchen had abused my poor, tender pussy, Gretchen began preparations for my second punishment.
First all of the ropes were removed from my naked body. I was temporarily grateful, but before I could take the opportunity to rub the parts of my body that had rope-burn, I was made to sit down on a sturdy, wooden chair so that I could be bound to it.
A female park employee in a smart, white uniform pulled my arms over the back of the chair and tied my wrists together, then attempted to pull my elbows together. After years of ballet I'm quite flexible, and after a great deal of difficulty the helpful employee finally managed to pull my elbows close enough to touch and then she tied them off quite competently with more rope. It's a painful way to be bound and I whimpered and panted at the way it made my arms ache, but nobody seemed to care.
Ankle cuffs were secured to my ankles and ropes were tied to each. I felt both of my ankles pulled toward the back of the chair. I groaned in pain as my ankle ropes were pulled tight over towards the ropes that held my wrists. The park employee continued to pull my ankles up towards my wrists, causing my body to bow as much as it could. The way my body was bowed meant that my spine was arched and my breasts were jutting out far more than usual. I'm sure the photographers and cameramen in the press appreciated the way that I was displaying my naked breasts to their best advantage.
"It was bad enough that you tried to have an orgasm without my permission," Gretchen admonished me, "however when you tried to get Lexi to keep your little sin a secret from me, that just made the whole thing even worse. Now I have to punish you for that infraction as well."
I was worried about what was coming next. The way I'd been bound, my breasts were incredibly vulnerable. With my back arched, my breasts pushed out tautly. My thighs, ribcage, pussy and abdomen were also utterly exposed and vulnerable to punishment. I whimpered at the thought of whatever painful punishment would be inflicted on me next.
I had a grim sense of what was to come as Gretchen grabbed my nipples between her thumbs and index fingers and began to pull on them. Gretchen took her time, squeezing, pinching and pulling on my defenseless nipples; hurting them, but also getting them hard and erect and swollen.
"There," Gretchen said with a certain degree of satisfaction, "Now that they're standing at attention, we can begin."
Then the female in the smart-looking white uniform picked up a leather whip and let me get a good look at it and said, "You've got very nice looking breasts, Miss Schlank. It's almost a shame that I have to mark them up."
I knew then that she would soon be using it on my poor, defenseless breasts and making me scream in pain. I panicked and pleaded with the park employee. "Please don't do this," I said, "You're a woman. You know how much this is going to hurt if you whip my breasts!"
"Try not to get too agitated, Miss Schlank," she responded in a calm, almost soothing voice, "It's going to hurt, but it shouldn't be unbearable. You've been to the Punishment Park before. I'm sure you've developed a fairly high tolerance for pain by now."
I gasped as the leather thong stuck my protrusive breasts, smacking across both of them. It stung far worse than when Lexi spanked my bare bottom. Of course a girl's breasts aren't designed to take a lot of punishment. Breasts are quite delicate when compared to other parts of a girl's anatomy.
Then the girl in the white uniform began a systemic whipping my poor, defenseless breasts with that abominable leather whip. She hit them across the nipples, on the sides, the top and even the undersides. The pain wasn't unbearable but bad enough to make me cry. I begged Gretchen to make the punishment stop but predictably I was ignored. When a slave begs for mercy, it's traditional to just ignore her or to punish her even harder. And Gretchen apparently was a firm believer in tradition. I didn't count how many times the woman with the whip lashed my poor breasts, but it was enough to make them sting and burn.
"Please," I screamed distressingly loud, "You don't have to hit them so hard!"
She and Gretchen shared a look while I blubbered and sobbed and then suddenly the girl brought the whip down across my inner thigh. I screamed in excruciating pain and the girl said, "That blow across your thigh was hard. The lashes across your breasts have actually been pretty mild. Would you like me to hit your breasts this hard?"
And just as she asked the question, she whipped my other thigh. The stretched skin across my naked thigh exploded in pain.
"No! Please no,"
I screamed. "I'm sorry about the way I complained before! The way you were whipping my breasts wasn't hard at all!"
