She knew she could take no more. She would die here, hanging by her ankles with a room full of men watching, lusting for her death. She closed her eyes and waited for the whipping to come. After a minute or two during which she was left alone, hands took firm hold of her shoulders and supported her as she felt herself being lowered.
Her thumbs were released from the loops and her ankles from their straps and she was allowed to sprawl across a table. Perhaps it was the change of position, but she became dizzy and suddenly vomited down the side of the table. The naked woman lay on her back with her legs spread wide, uncaring now of how many eyes were ogling her sore vagina. The audience, however were more interested in buying drinks at the bar, and she was largely ignored.
She was not to be allowed peace for long. Harry came by carrying a beer in one hand. “What’s this mess doing still here?” he called theatrically, pointing to the vomit, which had run down the table leg and onto the floor. Simon, bring the ladies’ panties and blouse, will you?”
A moment later Jill was being jabbed in the ribs. “Get up you lazy cunt!” It was Simon. He almost dragged her to her feet. “Get that mess cleaned up!” he snarled, pushing her panties into her hand. Painfully she began to mop up with the flimsy garment. When that was soon sodden, Simon gave her the blouse to use as well.
While she was cleaning up puke with her own clothes, Harry had begun addressing the audience, “Gentlemen, if you are all ready we will begin the bidding to be the wielder of the cat! Now, you have all seen her in action, a very dirty girl indeed. The winner will be allowed to administer ten strokes of the leather cat. Now who will start at say, £20?”
The bidding began and soon had reached £100. Mark, still in his seat wondered if he should bid in order to prevent his wife being beaten, but didn’t think Harry would allow him to. In any case, maybe Jill deserved it; surely she hadn’t needed to suck that mans dick so forcefully? No, better just sit it out.
Jill’s mind was in a sort of fog as she cleaned. She knew there was some sort of auction going on but she didn’t know what it was for. She didn’t know why she was kneeling on the floor naked, cleaning up mess; perhaps she was at work, tidying up?
She couldn’t remember anything properly, she would ask Mark when she got home; he would know.
Harry came to her and pulled her to her feet. “Come on cunt, it’s time.”
“I’ve nearly finished mopping up, Harry. Won’t be a minute.”
“What?” said Harry, puzzled by her matter of fact tone.
“I said I’m nearly finished. Do you need something else mopping up?” she looked at him with an innocent expression.
“No, you silly cow, you’ve finished with that! It’s time for your whipping, do you understand that?” Harry was getting a bit perplexed by her attitude. Did she really not know what was going on?