The Joys of Pain

Susanne sat on a bench in the Bois de Boulogne by the upper lake. Her boyfriend, Jean, held her hand. They had just returned from the bushes where they had made love. Her dress was simple: trainers, stockings, no knickers, no jeans, no bra, all topped by a clinging t-shirt with a deep v-cut in front allowing the viewer a pleasant view of the pink right breast with a brown eye peaking out.

Susanne topped it with a white band to hold back her long auburn hair, with a black handbag slung over her bare shoulder. Her jeans were neatly piled next to her. Her naked pussy was stroked by the cold breeze.

Strings of semen mixed with dribbles of frothing cum ran along her thigh and dripped onto the bench seat. The sweet cold breeze cooled the heat between her naked thighs. Jean's cock was laying on her thigh, and his trousers were still open after they had staggered to the park bench. Cum dribbled from his cock, adding to the pool collecting in front of Susanne's crack.

They were spent.

Their pleasure was destined to increase. They had been watched by angry eyes as they had fucked in the bushes.

A woman strode out in front of them. It was dark and the street lamps in this part of the forest were shielded by branches and leaves. The Lac du Bois de Boulogne is a well known site for trysts, but for more of a mercantile nature. This was Paris. It was April and the 33rd Paris Marathon was to be held on the 5th. Jean was to run in the race for a children's' charity. Susanne had come with Jean from Bath in the UK to help him relax before the race. She had gone a little too far in releasing Jean's tensions.

The woman wore a black cape buttoned at the top. Her high heels clicked on the pavement. Her short blond hair was topped by a black beret. She stopped directly in front of the bench and swept her eyes across the languid scene of post-coital depression. She stared directly at Susanne's pussy and then to her shoulders all exposed to the cold winds of April.

Susanne watched as the woman stopped and allowed her cape to sweep open. She was naked. Susanne felt herself become aroused by the sight of the shaved pussy peaking from the dark folds. She stared and raised her head to look directly at the woman.

"You like what you see?" the woman said in crisp English. There was a touch of a Russian accent in her voice.

Susanne felt herself get warm. She felt her wetness increase. The woman pulled a riding crop from under her cape and lifted it towards Susanne. Susanne flinched but the woman laid it gently on her thigh and slid it through her crack, picking up gobs of cum. She raised it to her lips and sucked the tip. She replaced it between Susanne's legs and stroked it gently through the dribbling white cum. Susanne instinctively spread her legs.

The crop entered her and slid around. Susanne looked at Jean but he had passed out. She felt good and warm. The cold air only made her arousal greater. The woman smiled. "You like?"

"Oh, yes!" She absently pulled on her breasts and started rolling and pinching her nipples. I did like this. Here I was sitting on a park bench out in a park in the center of Paris and I was being molested, not by a man, but by a woman.

The woman slowly dragged the crop out of her wet hole and raised it, working it slowly into her own shaved pussy. Susanne was mesmerized. She couldn't keep her eyes off the scene, nor her hands off of her own tits. She wanted to lick the pussy, to clean the crop. The woman opened her cape further, leaving the crop dragging from her cunt.

Susanne fell to her knees in the mud. The woman smiled knowingly. "Place your lips on my pussy. You want to, don't you?" I could not resist. I felt the crop on my tongue and licked down the shaft until I found the delicious hole. My tongue forced its way alongside the crop and slid along the vestibule finding the clit mounted and ready. I was becoming very wet myself and my fingers began a frantic musical rhythm on my sex. My breath came in shorter and shorter gasps. I buried myself in the glorious odors steaming from the shaved pussy.

The woman pulled the crop out of her hole and held it out for Susanne to clean. She swallowed the tip and allowed her tongue to slither all over it, all the while inhaling the perfect scent of a woman.

Susanne jostled about trying to get a better grip on the crop, while her hands were busy on her need. So doing, she accidentally nudged Jean. Jean startled and shifted himself. The crop cracked down on his shoulders. "Sit!" ordered the woman with a dark glare. In pain, Jean stumbled onto the bench, holding his sore shoulder.

"Do not speak!" To emphasis, she held her crop out menacingly. Susanne was demurely kneeling and had tried to resume her pleasurable licking of the aromatic pussy. "Stop!" The woman ordered Susanne to get back.

Pointing at Jean with her crop, she waved him over to her. "Kneel!" she ordered. As Jean got up and started toward her she hooked the back of his leg with her crop so that he collapsed onto the muddy grass. Jean was frantically looking at Susanne wondering what relation the two women had that they had been so intimate with each other.

The crop slashed against his cheek turning his face toward the woman. "Don't look where you are not told to look! Come to me. Do you like?" She raised her cape and Jean was treated to a delectable view of a bald wet pussy. He forgot the burning pain. She spread her legs and stroked her hand along the cunt lips, then moved her fingers to her mouth to suck.

Susanne could see Jean getting hard, as his cock was hanging out of his unbuttoned trousers, and rising by the second.

Jean started to look over his shoulder at Susanne, but thought the better of it. Another slash across his back forced his head up. "Eat! I give you this pleasure." Jean was hungry and his cock was twitching. He moved his head close to the mound and drew his tongue across and then into the crack, sucking on the labia. His face disappeared between her legs.

Susanne was getting worried and excited at the same time. Just down from a passionate sexual high she was seeing her lover sucking the delicious pussy of another woman, a pussy she wanted to lick and taste for herself. Susanne felt herself getting weak at the knees. She couldn't take her eyes off the scene unfolding as Jean slurped his way through the wet swamp.

Suddenly she pulled herself away from Jean's mouth and indicated to Susanne. Susanne by now was already desiring more and scrambled close. The crop guided her head to the shaved pussy, already wet with saliva and white froth issuing from the hole. Susanne felt herself become soaked as her face was covered with the wetness that gushed forth.

Her own pussy was in need, however, and the woman indicated to Jean with her crop. "You! Come! Kneel behind the slut!"

Jean did as he was told.

The woman used her crop to point to Susanne's hole. "Use her pussy." Jean needed no urging. He grabbed Susanne's hips and pulled himself into her. The crack of the crop across his arms stopped him and Susanne lurched. "Did I tell you to touch her?" Jean's hands dropped back, but his cock remained engaged. He started ramming Susanne, slowly at first but then picking up the tempo as Susanne bucked back onto the pleasurable member.

Two men appeared from the dark behind the bench and seized his shoulders. Jean could not turn to see what they were doing. His hands were clasped in manacles behind him. Susanne emitted a pitched screech as her wrists were bound. Gags were roughly tied over both of their mouths. Blindfolds were roughly tied to their heads.

The dark woman gestured to the men to follow. They spoke not a word. Stumbling and unable to speak, Jean and Susanne were led into a waiting limousine parked in the darkness at the edge of the lake. They were forced into the back seat and the doors closed. Susanne felt hairy arms about her. They were Jean's, she hoped. It smelt like Jean what with the aroma of pussy from his mouth.

After an hour of silence, and much twisting and turning around corners, the limousine came to a stop. The door opened and harsh hands grabbed them and forced them to walk. After what seemed like a climb up innumerable numbers of steps, Susanne heard a door open. Short gruff words were exchanged, but otherwise all was silent. She could understand some French but it had been awhile.

She felt herself being shoved into a space, and tripped over a bed. She felt Jean pushed against her side. The manacles were released and pulled up and attached to what must be a hook. There she stood on tiptoe hanging from above. She felt, rather smelled, Jean's body nudging hers rhythmically. Jean, too, must be suspended. Rough hands ripped her clothes from her body. Tearing noises filled the room. A shirt fell over her feet.

Something large was pushed next to her and her bare feet were inserted. It was some form of metal bath or pan. It was too dark to tell. She heard a creaking of chains as she felt Jean's feet brush next to hers. A torch shone a beam into her face momentarily. She could not remove the blindfold to see more.

A guttural voice tinged with a Russian accent spoke in French to order them not to struggle else they would be punished. They were not to speak or the punishment would be severe. They hung there in the dark as the door slammed shut and a heavy bolt slid into place.

The minutes stretched into an hour. Susanne tried to speak but the gag was too deep. Her tongue could not move. All she could manage was sub vocal mumblings in her throat. Jean manged a peep or two. There was no communication possible. Susanne drifted into sleep but was awakened as the shackles chaffed her wrists when she sagged. She was not to sleep. Hours passed. Susanne lost count of time.

A need was building in her bladder and then her rectum over the past hour. She could not hold back and a stream of urine sprayed down making a splashing noise in the metal container. She felt Jean react as he groaned and started spraying as well. It shot all over her back and up into her hair. He must have a hard on!

The air was filled with the acrid smell of piss. She felt the urine running down her legs. The straining was becoming futile and she had to let go. An enormous wet turd slithered down her leg, followed by a sudden blast of heavy wet shit that splattered everything behind her and dribbled into the pan below. The stench was overpowering.

She felt embarrassed that Jean must have been covered with it and was breathing in her gases. Hours passed and groans were coming from Jean at intervals. He, too, was in need. Susanne felt her face go red. They had never been in the bathroom together when the other was relieving themselves on the loo. Now it was Susanne's turn to be splattered as an enormous jet of wet diarrhea hit her belly and ran down her crotch and along her legs. She shook them to force the clinging mess into the pan. She could feel Jean's shame in the darkness.

As she sifted Susanne felt the shit squishing through her toes and over her feet. The smell was overwhelming. The itching of the dribbling excrement as it made its way down her body was irritating. But she could do nothing to stop it. Mumbling apologies were heard from Jean's throat.

Susanne tried to sound apologetic but it was difficult to express. She tried to lift her legs to nudge Jean but only succeeded in smearing shit on his legs. It was all Susanne could do to hold onto the shackles and keep the blood flowing. Every one in a while Susanne would feel herself nod off and then awaken suddenly as the pain in her wrists mounted and the smell reasserted itself.

So the time went by, hour by hour. Susanne had no idea of how long they had been shackled. Without sleep as a guide, without sunlight, there was no way to gauge the passage of time. Thankfully they had not eaten a meal before they went to the Bois de Boulogne, thought Susanne. But she was chagrined when pressure built up once more. She had spoken too soon. A stream of piss shot out of her, followed almost simultaneously by another load of shit that emptied itself along her body and probably along Jean's as well.

So they continued for what seemed like days until they could shit no more, nor piss another drop. The pan was truly full as Susanne could not find a dry spot to stand on. She felt hunger but the urge would go away when the smell hit her nostrils. Flakes of dried shit would drop off her legs when she shifted her weight. It was like a covering of mud.

Susanne felt Jean's legs moving once in a while. Her eyes felt heavy. How long have they been here? Susanne began dreaming, then awakening. It was all a nightmare. Finally she could resist no more and despite the pain fell into a deep sleep.

Susanne felt rather than heard the sharp swishing noise before she felt a burn on her thighs. She bit into her gag as the burning pain flowed along her leg. She unclenched her eyes and found she could see. The hood had been removed. The shackles were locked onto a padlocked chain over a hook.

The walls were covered with mirrors. There was a candelabra with two candles glowing in the corner. She could see herself smeared in shit. Jean hung listlessly next to her. He was hooded. The woman that had stopped in front of them in the Bois de Boulogne strode into the room. She ripped Jean's hood off, waking him. She wore the same cape fastened about her neck. A riding crop with a covering of woven leather was clasped in her right hand. As she turned Susanne saw that her robe covered a naked body. There were glimpses of objects under the robe.

So far there had been no voices. Then the woman spoke. "You will address me as 'Mistress'. You will have the pleasure you crave only when I allow it and only through me." The commands were expressed sternly. "But you must not speak unless I so order! These are the rules. Do not look upon me, do not utter a word without my bidding, do as you are ordered. If not you will feel the urgent passion of my lash."

Susanne and Jean looked at each other. What had they got into? The smell of the shit over their bodies seemed the least of their worries. Susanne felt terror grip her throat, a throat which became dry and raspy as she breathed hard. The pain on her thigh was still tingling.

Men entered the room. They wore masks. Mistress ordered the men. "Bind these dirty sluts onto the floor." Susanne saw loops of iron set in the concrete floor. Her shackles were locked into the loops. A bar was strapped with leather straps to her thighs, forcing her cunt and asshole open. Her bottom was thrust in the air. Jean was roughly torn from the ceiling hook and thrown on the ground. His knees started bleeding. His arms were pulled to the side and attached with chains to the walls of stone.

Mistress stood looking at her tableau. "You are my sluts now. You will play for me." She lashed her crop across Jean's ass. He flinched and gurgled into his gag. I could see everything reflected in the mirrors. Stinking with piss and shit we must have presented a dire looking sight.

"First you will be flogged." With that the men pulled out thick lashes and handed them to Mistress. She swept her arm hard and swept it over my ass. A scream tried to escape my gagged mouth. The woman ripped off my gag.

"Your screams are not for you, slut. They are for my pleasure. I delight in your screams. They praise my magnificence." In quick succession Mistress started flogging. The screams erupted instinctively and deafened me. The woman laid more than a dozen welts across my ass and thighs in measured time. My screams knew no stop.

I could feel myself getting aroused by the lashing on my ass. The heat was reminding me of Jean's hot cock erupting into my asshole. In my delirium, my lack of sleep, I fantasized Jean slamming into my ass with each crack, with each pierce of searing pain. I moaned. Mistress drew back, grabbed the cane, and gave me a rapid series of savage blows across my back, down my ass, and along my legs.

"No speaking, no moaning, no cumming!" Blood ran down my ass and across my crack. I couldn't help myself and arched in a spray of cum that splattered from my cunt across Jean's legs and onto the woman's feet.

She was livid. "Tie her onto the ceiling hook. Beat her soundly until I order you to stop!" I was dragged off to the ceiling hook and attached, hanging down into the pan of shit. The two men took turns with whips. The first blow felt pleasant after the woman's ministrations. Then the painful throbbing along my back intensified and traveled down to my ass, then down my thighs.

My screams poured out of me. I could not stop. They proceeded to work their way up again. I was a continual rictus of noise as I spurted sound like cum into the air. Vaguely I heard lashings as the woman concentrated on Jean. I could barely see with the tears streaming from my eyes. But I could hear his terrible howls as the lash traveled along his body.

The woman left the room. The lights went out. We were hanging from ceiling hooks again. The hours passed. The pain did not. I passed out. After what seemed days I came to and found myself once again the object of attention of two men with flogs. The beatings continued. I noticed out of my tear strained eyes that Jean was screaming with abandon as two more men began whipping him with crops. My own screams melted into Jean's howls. I passed out again.

I did not know how many days, or weeks, had passed. The time was one mass of hurt. It was a series of scenes from a nightmare. I would awaken, be flogged until I passed out, and the sequence continue, and continue, and continue until I felt that my whole life had been spent in the room which was now my whole world. I barely noticed Jean. My pain was all I saw. Death would be a pleasurable release. I could no longer think so concentrated was my mind on the agony scorching my flesh.

I was in a state of trance as the beatings continued. Croaking sobs arched out of my throat. Jean's howls turned into raspy grunts with each stroke. The searing aches were indescribably solid. They formed a cocoon over my body. Mixed with the piss and shit the open wounds were sore.

As blow after blow rained on me in quick succession I felt myself becoming separate from my body. I must have passed out again. My mind was filled with nightmares and horrible shapes dragged at me in the darkness of my dreams.

There was Jean in the forest by the upper lake. Jean was holding my hips and thrusting his plunging cock deep into my asshole. Then Jean was replaced by a demon. I started. I tried to run but my legs wouldn't move. The demon bit my ass and started chewing flesh. Savoring the taste the demon grabbed my thighs and ripped into them, gulping down gobs of meat.

I came to to find myself hanging from the hook. Blows were still raining down on me. Blood was everywhere. The mirrors were splattered so thoroughly that I couldn't see myself. An excruciating pain covered me and my throat could no longer scream. I was just gaping through a dry raw throat and gasping for air. Suddenly it ended. I was arched in agony.

The woman came into the room. She stood directly in front of me. Her cape flowed open, revealing her crop. "You will learn how to make me enjoy your pain. You will wish you could be lashed when you see me. Address me as Mistress! Now! I command you to speak!" The woman lashed my open wounds with her crop. I doubled over in unendurable agony.

"Speak! I order you to speak!"

"Mistress?" I croak.

"Tell me that you enjoyed pleasuring me with your pain! Do not scream. Just tell me you enjoy my pleasure." The woman slammed the crop across my bloody ass.

Scorching agony tore through me. I managed to rasp "Mistress, I." I couldn't get my breath back.

"You what?" The woman ran the crop as hard as she could across my ribs. Blood splattered over my face blinding me.