Lenas Last Interview

I'm Lena, I'm 20 years old, born in München, Germany, now living in the US. I came to America mostly to work at a scientific laboratory but also as a member of the German BDSM club Das Erwachen, which means the awakening. Das Erwachen was designed to introduce girls like me to BDSM once we were over eighteen years of age and being willing to do what was required of girls in Das Erwachen helped me get the job in the US. While in Germany I attended the prestigious international school which qualified me for my American job and where I also met the people from the BDSM club. I graduated from the senior school in 2019 and then had to show I was qualified for the BDSM club by being videoed doing BDSM activities. When this story begins I had only one thing left to do to qualify to go to America and that was to go before a committee of three people I had known at school.

The meeting with the committee was in two parts. The first was an interview with the school headmaster, the director of admissions and the guidance counselor. I knew all three men and knew that they liked me and felt confident I would pass the interview. I had done well in school and after turning eighteen had done a few BDSM scenes and they had seen the videos in which I was completely nude. The nudity did not bother me, I knew they all thought I was attractive and would enjoy seeing my body but I admit I was slightly embarrassed that they had seen me have all that sex. After the interview I would have to do one last BDSM scene for the three men although there would be no sex, at least nothing more than them feeling my bare tits and patting my ass, as they had reputations to uphold and could not be found screwing an eighteen year old former student, even if she was very attractive.

So the time for the interview came and we all went to a room in the basement, the three men and me, and locked ourselves in. I was asked to disrobe and my clothes were taken from me and locked away. I would do the interview sitting naked in a chair while they asked me questions and appraised my body. Then we'd do the scene. I hoped they understood they were not supposed to fuck me and in fact they did not, though they would have had to be made of stone not to have wanted to. Regardless, I was sure they thought I was a nice girl and would find me an acceptable candidate for my sabbatical which is what they somewhat euphemistically called the American trip. At least after they had finished whipping my ass, which was the traditional final part after the interview.

The first of the men to question me was Herr Müller, the headmaster. It quickly became obvious the questions were a formality, they were in fact most anxious to put die Peitsche to my body. He asked me how I had enjoyed the school's course of study and what my interests were for further schooling, all the while admiring my bare breasts. Next was Herr Pflüger, the director of admissions. His daughter, a year younger than I who was still a student, was one of my best friends from playing fussball. I had been to their house many times and he had always lusted after me, as well as many of the other fussball players. He inquired into less delicate areas than his boss, the headmaster, asking for specifics on what boys I had slept with, obviously worried that now that I was gone they would target his daughter. I gave him as complete a list as I could remember. He also openly complimented me on my body and asked me to stand and slowly turn around so they could appreciate me to the fullest.

Lastly came Herr Koch, a true German name often pronounced "cock" by Americans which in English means penis. He was the guidance counselor, which brought him in contact with all of the students, especially the girls. He patted down all the pretty ones but few complained because being in his good graces could affect where you would be placed after you left the school. He asked me about scenes he had seen on the videos, things like how I enjoyed being fucked while tied down, if I enjoyed taking it in the bum and if I had much experience giving head with my hands tied behind my back. I assured him I loved all three because I thought it would help me get my sabbatical. I do like getting fucked about any way you can think of. Except anal, so I lied about that. And I have practiced giving blow jobs without using my hands because boys will accept that as payment for being taken a girl on dates. And then we were done and we were ready for what awaited me. They bound my wrists behind me and we headed out of the room.

We stopped long enough so I could go to the bathroom. I sat on the toilet and peed, my hands still bound behind me. Herr Koch took out a camera and photographed me. There could be no videos because the men could not appear, but planned photos could be deleted if they went wrong. We headed out the back door into the garden, securely fenced in. The sun was shining bright. It was summer and it was hot. Ahead of me stood the device I would be bound to. Two vertical metal pipes connected by a horizontal one above my head. Ropes hung down from the ends of the overhead pipe and extended inward from the base of each of the vertical ones.

They stood me in front of it and untied my wrists. Then each in turn they extended my arms up and out and bound my wrists again to the ropes extending from the ends of the overhead pipe and pulled me up tight, my arms spread as wide as they would go above my head. They tied the ropes tight. My wrists hurt immediately. Then they spread my legs wide and bound my ankles tightly to the ropes extending from the bottom of the vertical pipes. I was spread out like a starfish, arms and legs taut, my naked body open and waiting for whatever was to come. This part I reveled in. I had always known there was something about being tied up that was special to me, the warm wet feelings that infused my body when I was naked and helpless. I didn't understand what it was, all I knew was it felt good and being tied and whipped or tied down and then fucked were the most glorious things that ever happened to me.

I had had two boyfriends who liked to tie me up and have their way with me. I remembered the first time I was tied to a bed and fucked until I pleaded for mercy. Eventually I would ask them to do other things to me. All the things that had been done to me came back as I felt the wetness inside my pussy, the hardness of my nipples, the bite of the ropes against my skin as they knotted the ropes tight. Now there was no return. I shivered somewhere deep inside, fear began to grip me, my mouth was dry as sand. Sweat glistened on my bare skin. My body was so taut I was raised up on my tiptoes and I felt the first glint pain. As I hung there bound and naked in the hot sun I whispered a prayer. Time went by. A minute, ten, twenty. I sweat like a horse. I could hear them laughing, joking. No, not laughing at me but completely dissociated from me. I heard the chime clock in the middle of campus chime eight times for half past the hour. Half past two, I guess. I hung there until three.

Herr Müller approached me.

"We must begin, Mädchen." I just nodded. "Do not be afraid." He held the whip in his hand, a thin strand of thatched bullwhip.

"How long?"

"Eighteen, I think. You are eighteen. And you will remember each one. I will try to help you enjoy it." He meant enjoy the pain of the whip and the joy if I could cum from it.

"OK."

"You are very lovely, let us both enjoy your loveliness for a little while." He put the whip in his belt and his hands went to work on my body hanging nude and helpless in front of him. He had done this before. His touch was gentle, pushing my hair from about my face neatly down my back, running his fingers down both sides of my neck, down my upper chest to my bosom, cupping each tit, pinching each nipple, down further lightly over my tummy muscles to my belly button, my chest heaved slightly and I felt the fire building down deep inside me and then his hands were on my bare ass, squeezing my cheeks hard enough to hurt and then his fingers were back in front and down lower and they found my clit and stroked lightly once, twice, ten times and I closed my eyes tight and I was off to the races and he stood there and let me push myself up against him and I screwed my eyes shut and just rocked back and forth as hard as I could against him and I got there.

I just came and came and came for what seemed like an hour but was only thirty seconds. I just came and came and came and it was just delicious and my tits felt like they were on fire and the tight spot above my cunt just released and I just couldn't help it. I kept squeezing up against him hard and my whole world turned into bright colors and it was just delicious and I was so happy I could have cried and it just seemed to go on and on forever but it was really only maybe two minutes and then finally, slowly, I started to come back down to earth again and I just sort of leaned up against him with my chest heaving, out of breath, my breasts all flush and sweat coming off me in the hot sun and finally he moved around in back of me and let me just hang there still breathing hard and I opened my eyes and after a little bit I came back down and I kind of nodded I was ready.

"Count!" he said.

"Eins," I barely whispered and the whip fell hard against the softness of my bare bum.

"Yes, Dear Reader, he whipped me." From eins to achtzehn. And God help me I loved every bit of it. Being bound, the tightness of the ropes, the discomfort in my wrists and my arms and my shoulders, the feelings of helplessness, vulnerability, expectancy. The physical sensations of being turned on, rock like nipples, the warmth and moisture inside my loins. And each time he hit me I cried out as pain spread from each new red welt on my ass seemingly right through me to my girlhood. And I loved it, just adored it. And each time I fought to get away but it was of no use. And I wouldn't have had it any other way. Somewhere in the middle I managed to cum again and it was transcendent to find such pleasure amid such pain. Near the end I found the pain unbearable. I needed to do something to get through it and somewhere I found it.

Somewhere I found a rhythm and that meant I could let him hit me. And he never let up. But it wasn't his fault. My own body was the instrument of my destruction. My slim brown body, the slenderness and glow of my bare legs, the taut white behind, the in drawn abdomen, the eager tits, the narrow hips, the pink mouth, the russet hair, the sleek little fox hairs on the plump little hillock above my girlhood which afforded me a trace of modesty during it all.

As much as I loved the physical pain I loved the psychic pain. I was as scared today as the day I was first strung up by my wrists. I felt the fear well up in my tummy, knowing what they were going to do to me, helpless to stop them. Trembling slightly, frightened, not really comprehending what it would be like. The girl that was whipped the first time still existed inside me and waited now, arms outstretched above her. I had a profound sense that nothing much had changed inside me in all that time. The first girl was still there. I had changed physically maybe, but not emotionally. Once again the pain and the sexual excitement combined to make it a truly surpassing experience. And if done right I knew it could go on for hours.

I watched the faces of the men who were doing this to me. Müller was simply curious to see me stripped naked and witness this cruel but erotic ritual, the other two were also eager to see my slender body, stripped naked, bound, but also twisting wantonly, glistening in the afternoon sun with the sweat of my struggles. I watched my audience closely. Sometimes they seemed entranced by my suffering and sometimes they were clearly more interested in my nakedness, how my boobs moved, how wet I was. And wet I was. None of them had seen me naked before. It's different being naked for people you know than for strangers. Of course I would see them again. It's very sexy indeed being nude with people and then later being clothed with them, both of you knowing they've seen you nude. And beforehand seeing them when you are clothed and you know and they know they will soon see you naked. I love being with men who know they soon will see me naked. Who wait eagerly, knowing the mysteries of my body will soon be revealed.

And after they let me hang there. I heard three thirty ring on the chime clock in the distance. The whole thing had taken barely half an hour. I hung there in the sun. Alone. Still sweating, still hurting. My soft white bottom still on fire. Left there too long the heat and the sweat pouring from my body would dehydrate me. And like being hung on a cross the weight of my body would drag me further down until breathing became difficult. As my strength sapped with time it did indeed become and effort keeping myself erect enough to breathe. Finally they cut me down and I sank to the soft green grass. I lay there for a few more minutes, still nude. The men were gone now. I stumbled inside and somehow found my clothes. I got dressed and went home.

Next morning I hurt all over but I was happy. I knew I was going to the US.