Poor Khalidah. I felt so bad writing this story—she's one of my favorite dominant women. But she had it coming! Ginny forgave her in the previous episode, but that didn't mean she considered the score even.
Don't despair. Khalidah will emerge stronger: more compassionate; more attuned to her lovers; an all around better human being for the experience. She and Ginny might even become friends!
The usual trigger warning - this story contains heavy bondage and discipline.
This is the first time I've used actual geographical locations in a story. The settings do have vibrant BDSM communities but the representation of any official entities is strictly fictional.
I'm certainly not advocating judicial corporal punishment, which is inherently non-consensual (unless you're a volunteer!). I doubt that any political entity on earth today is capable of administering such a system fairly and humanely. In real life consent is paramount.
But given all that, if you wish to continue, let's get on with it. I hope you enjoy this story, and I hope you stay safe, in and out of the scene, in these trying SARS-CoV-2 times.
*****
"Ugg..."
The room was familiar. So were the leather straps securing her back to the pole—she'd helped bind Bev, unbearably tightly unless you were Bev, to this very pole just over a year earlier. Khalidah knew exactly where she was.
She stared at her reflection in the mirrored wall as her awareness grudgingly returned. The dull bronze strangulation collar with its delicate silver filigree enclosing her neck... that too was familiar—she'd worn it just a few days ago, when it initiated her journey to the penitentiary.
But this room wasn't in the penitentiary. This was Studio E at JenLiz Studios, and she'd been in it many times, sometimes in battle dress but more often covered, in leather, latex, spandex, whatever suited the role, almost always wielding a crop, a flogger, or her favorite, a whip.
Never locked in a forced-orgasm belt.
And no whip today. With her wrists bound securely behind her she wouldn't have been able to do much with it, even with her superlative skill. Strong as she was, she wasn't Wonder Woman—she wasn't going to burst these bonds.
Worth a try nevertheless, she thought, struggling mightily, but to little avail.
++++
Khalidah's powerful muscles quivered in stunningly high resolution on the huge monitor. With extraordinary effort Ginny unglued her eyes to glance over at Jen, who clearly liked what she saw just as much.
"This'll be such great footage," Jen exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. "We so seldom tie Khalidah up—we should do it a lot more!"
Ginny turned her attention back to the screen. She was getting anxious.
"I think I'd better get on with it. I'm not sure those straps will hold much longer."
++++
When she woke up that morning Khalidah didn't even remotely anticipate being bound to a pole in Studio E before lunchtime. She fully expected to spend another dull twenty-four hours in her dreary prison cell, passing the time until the following day when she was scheduled to endure Class One non-impact corporal punishment, aka 'intense electrical psycho-sexual correction', that session to be conducted by Virginia Wentworth. It would be Ginny's first as a fully-qualified tormentor.
But after Khalidah passed her empty breakfast bowl back through the hatch the guard informed her she had a visitor, Beverly Greene. This wasn't in itself unusual; Bev, her lover, had come to console her every day so far. She passed her wrists through to be handcuffed. The cell door opened.
But instead of one guard escorting her out, two guards burst in. Uncuffed she could easily have held her own but as things were she couldn't escape the chloroform rag; when she woke up for the second time that day she found herself mounted on the pole.
Khalidah shook her head up and down, back and forth, trying to exorcise the cobwebs. At least she could still move her head. Not much else, she established.
And after what felt like forever, though it was really only fifteen minutes, the studio door opened, catapulting Khalidah's consciousness back a year.
Oh Ginny, how you've changed! Not that you weren't glorious when I, Khalidah the great, chief marshal, enforcer of morals, led you into the brand new purpose-built execution chamber commissioned by your aunt Barbara, to be bound naked on the carousel next to your sister, next to Bev—you all looked so much alike on the outside, with your thighs spread obscenely wide, your buttocks pressed out to welcome my flogger's caress. But I could see inside: Bev so submissive; Angie so naïve, so curious; you so brave, and so, so proud. All so beautiful, inside and out.
I flogged you. I readied you for strangulation. How strong-willed you were! How you hated it when I forced you to come—how delicious it was, watching you, along with Angie and Bev, thrashing as one in your terminal paroxysms, watching you and your sister gasp as the collars' cushions inflated so smoothly, squeezing your necks in their firm embrace, gently sealing off your vital passages. The anguished resignation, the fathomless empathy for your sister shining in your eyes, both of you thinking you'd never wake up. Watching Bev loving every minute of it, working so hard not to give the game away—no wonder I fell in love with her. I take you at your word: you've forgiven me, but that isn't the end of it, is it? You'll be torturing me tomorrow. Isn't that enough?
I suppose not.
Ginny strode to the center with a sinister smile on her face, her whip coiled in one hand, in the other a leather leash long enough to ensure that what or whoever was on the other end remained outside.
Khalidah, Ginny was all but certain, had been spending her long boring days in the penitentiary as productively as she possibly could, mentally preparing herself to be suspended in the strict punishment hogtie, imagining herself enclosed in electrical torment cuffs, waiting patiently to be confronted by a Ginny professionally decked out in official tormentor's kit.
Bugger that!
Instead Khalidah faced a Ginny encased from the neck down in salacious science-fiction-cover warrior-princess armor—the outfit JenLiz dressed her up in to seduce Bev into volunteering for a punishment session, the outfit which launched Ginny on her extraordinarily rapid and productive journey to the dominant side.
Shiny black-anodized spun-aluminum domes struggled to enclose Ginny's magnificent bust, while below, her 'execution' belt displayed her name, Virginia, in elegant raised silver lettering which perfectly matched the decoration on the collar she wasn't wearing. And unlike the first time that belt adorned her waist, when Khalidah flogged her in it, Ginny wore it adjusted to a comfortable tightness; now it served to support an ominous stainless steel codpiece which tapered to disappearance between her leather-clad legs, making a display as threatening, as enticing as it had been for Bev when she was bound on the same pole Khalidah graced today.
