{"loaderData":{"4":{"story":{"id":"009fbb3e-349a-4e85-af00-28fc70fec51e","seriesId":null,"seriesName":null,"currentUserId":"00000000-0000-0000-0000-000000000000","added":"2026-02-11T20:46:25.805Z","title":"The Torturous Bondage Basement","slug":"the-torturous-bondage-basement","shortId":"UThlNRCb","authorNote":null,"disclaimer":null,"type":"Short","paidUrl":null,"synopsis":"","partCount":1,"parts":[{"partId":"cc174742-1cca-4c22-8ea7-de96a0e53d99","title":null,"summary":"Following my first-ever 'Forced Fantasy' encounter, the ringleader, Simon, the organiser, told me ab","wordCount":13111,"readTime":66,"number":1,"state":"Published"}],"currentPart":1,"contentTitle":"Chapter 1","content":"

Following my first-ever 'Forced Fantasy' encounter, the ringleader, Simon, the organiser, told me about his father. He was a successful small builder in the Greater Manchester area, but was big into BDSM. He was a carpenter by trade and had recently renovated some buildings for offices that he was letting out. However, he had included a 'Bondage Basement' for his and some of his employees' amusement.

He had used his skills in wood to produce some pretty impressive bondage equipment.

Simon showed me some photos, and the results certainly looked rather remarkable. It was clear that his father had money to burn, as most of his creations were in oak and looked more like works of art than items to be used in a BDSM event.

$\"\"$

Simon said he had mentioned me to his father, and his father, in turn, wondered if I'd like to travel to Manchester to try out his cellar. I thought it a bit far-fetched that someone in their late forties would want to ask a twenty-one-year-old university student to make use of his creation.

Therefore, it came as a bit of a surprise when one afternoon, just as lectures had finished, my phone rang from a number that I did not recognise.

'Hello, ' my name is Barry. 'You won't know me, but hopefully, you know my son Simon?'

'Oh, ' I said, greatly surprised by the call, 'You're the builder?'

'Yes, ' the voice on the other end of the phone chuckled, 'So you know something about me?'

'Yes, just a little.'

'Well, I'm going to lay my cards on the table. I'm a no-nonsense businessman and not one for beating about the bush. I hope you don't mind straight-talking.'

'No. Us Scot's are pretty much the same, ' I responded.

'I know it's a bit presumptuous, but would you like to meet me for a meal sometime? I have a proposition I'd like to put to you that would be better said face to face than over the phone.'

I laughed, 'You certainly do get straight to the point. When did you have in mind?'

'Umm, well, I'm in your area tonight. Like now. I had some appointments and thought I'd chance my arm with you?'

I had a piece of coursework I desperately needed to write up, but somehow felt the urge to meet up and see what this straight-talking builder had to say.

Half an hour later, I waited at the appointed rendezvous when a large four-wheel drive grey Mercedes pulled up.

'Rachel?' The driver questioned as he wound down the passenger window.

'Yes, ' I replied. 'Are you Barry?'

'Yes, but don't look so shocked.'

'Sorry, but I was expecting a builder's van with ladders on the roof.'

'I have one of those as well, but use this for special trips.'

$\"\"$

'Very nice, ' I commented rather enviously as I opened the door and climbed in.

After finding a place to eat and placing our order, Barry got down to business.

'I'm not sure how much Simon has told you. I run a decent little business and purchased an office block two years ago that needed fixing up. I intended to sell it on, but found it would work better financially in the long term if I rented the office space. This place has a basement with two main rooms. I thought I could try to make it into a private bondage room. The problem is licensing it. No one wants to give a licence. It also seems that no one wants to rent an office above such a commercial venture with all its connotations.'

I nodded in understanding.

'So here I am with my own private and fully stocked bondage club and no one to use it. My wife isn't interested, and the only use it has had is a couple of guys who work with me for an odd hour with their girlfriends. I want someone to be prepared to stay for a weekend to try it out fully.'

'That's where I come in?' I replied.

'Well, yes, but..' He paused before continuing, 'four of the lads who work for me and I have talked about what fun it would be to have someone bound down there who let us use the equipment to its full capacity.'

'In what way?'

'Well, we have asked around, offered to pay, to try and find some girl who could fulfil our desires. So far, without success, although we thought some fat hag might have been interested. Then Simon told me about you and what you did with him and his friends. We want someone with spunk, Rachel, who is willing to take all that we can give and more. It will be a weekend of real pain, but we hope also be fun.'

$\"\"$

'I looked across my plate with eyes wide open.'

'If it's not your thing, I understand, so please don't worry. I just wanted to ask, the fact that you are so pretty would make it doubly fun.'

'So what exactly would you want to do?'

'Push your limits, stretch you, whip you, smack you and generally, if I can use the word, spend the weekend torturing you and hearing you scream.'

'Wow, you don't want much, do you?' I replied with a half-smile.

'I have a DVD in the car I'd like you to watch to get some idea of what we want to do. Would you be at least happy to see it?'

'I guess so. I may as well get the full picture of what you're asking.'

Later, we sat in his car as he set up his portable DVD player.

'This is from a film called 'Beautiful Teacher in Torture Hell, ' he explained. 'It's Japanese but has subtitles. Not that that matters. We want to do this to you.'

The player ran as I watched a buxom young lady tied with her hands above her head while someone smacked her breasts with his hand several times.

'Did you count how many times he hit her?' Barry asked.

'No, I didn't.'

'I think about sixty. I've watched it and counted it many times. I may be one out, but sixty is a nice round number. Could you handle it?

'I have no idea. I mean, she was just acting. She wasn't taking all those slaps.'

'I know, but we want someone who would, and we may want to do it twice.'

'I'd have to think about that.'

'Look at this one. It's electrical torture.'

'Oh. I have never had that done to me, ' I explained.

'I have an excellent electrician who has rigged up a very effective and safe machine. We have used it on ourselves.'

'Really?'

'Yes, I know it's perverse, but we needed to ensure it works. It does. We can change the intensity along with the shock waves. It should be patented for the BDSM trade. It is so good. Now watch.

I watched as a bound woman sitting in a chair had clips placed on her breast and then jumped and screamed as she received shocks from the clips.

'We have a probe, like a penis, that will go up your cunt or bum as well as the breast clamps. It's very intense.'

'Wow, ' was about all I could manage to say.

'Now watch this one.'

For about an hour, we sat in Barry's car as he showed me clip after clip of all he was hoping I might be willing to endure over a weekend in his bondage basement, pleasing him along with some of his work buddies.

As the last clip finished, I was convinced that I could not fulfil all they desired, although I wanted to give it a go.

Barry was desperately disappointed.

'Don't worry, Rachel, I knew it was a very long shot when I asked you. You don't get anywhere without asking.'

It was quite a surprise, even to me, that I found myself heading towards Manchester six weeks later to answer his invitation.

On several occasions, Simon, Barry's son, suggested I try it, having already experienced me in action first-hand, wearing crocodile clips.

After two weeks of hard thinking and preparing mentally, I phoned Barry to ask when we could meet for the event. I desperately desired to please Barry and his gang of builders, but more than that, I wanted to push my boundaries to discover what my limitations were. The invitation would be a wonderful, if unexpected and painful way to find out.

I must have been excited or bonkers at the prospect because as I neared my destination, I pulled over to let a police car pass. Unfortunately, it pulled in behind me as I did so, and I realised, with some apprehension, that it was me he wanted to stop. It was the first and only time the police had ever stopped me.

'Hello, Miss, ' the officer from the passenger seat said politely, 'Is it your car?'

'Yes, it is.'

'We stopped you because you seemed to be knocking along a bit.'

'Oh.' I was gutted. Before even arriving at the rendezvous, I was going to get a speeding ticket.

As requested, I rather sheepishly got into the back of their car.

$\"\"$

'Don't worry, young lady. You're not going to get a ticket this time. Just a friendly warning as you were going a bit too quickly.'

'Thank you, officer, ' I replied in sheer relief. 'I'm so sorry, you see I was going to...' My voice trailed off as I realised I could hardly admit where I was going or what I would be doing. I would have been locked up for good and the key thrown away.'

'Going to see the boyfriend?' One of the police officers interjected.

'Yes. Sort of. Well, it's a long story, ' I stumbled.

'Relationships can be. Just watch your speed, don't be so anxious with the right foot and take your time.'

'Yes, thank you. I will.'

'Watch yourself pulling out into the traffic. Take a long run along the hard shoulder and then pull out. Have a good weekend.

'Yes, I will. Thank you, ' I repeated as I climbed out of the car, clutching my driving licence.

I drove off, realising that, having been warned about driving too fast, for whatever reason, I must be looking forward to what I would be subjected to over the next two days.

After a bit of a search, as I did not, in those days, possess a Satellite Navigation system, I found the building and, driving round to the rear, as instructed, I found Barry's rather splendid car in the car park.

As I parked, Barry appeared from a side door with two other men of similar ages. I nervously got out of the car as they approached, smiling.

'Hello Rachel, ' Barry said, 'Great to see you. Thanks so much for coming today. I cannot tell you how excited we all are.'

I smiled sheepishly as he introduced me to his two colleagues.

'You are beautiful, ' one commented, 'Do you know what you're letting yourself in for this weekend?'

Again, I forced a smile, 'Maybe not.'

As we entered the building, we turned immediately left and down a railed staircase that led to the place that would be my dungeon for the next two nights.

At the bottom was a big, heavy fire door.

'This door is totally soundproofed, ' Barry explained. You could stand here with your ear to the door and not hear anything from the inside. We have tried it, believe me, radios, boom boxes, and even our power tools. It works.'

I was not sure whether the assurance of no one being able to hear me when I screamed or cried out helped or not.

We went inside. I was surprised to see another four men aged between thirty-five and their mid-fifties. I had only expected five, so discovering seven men was another shock to the already nervous system.

'I hope you don't mind, but when word of what we planned got out, no one who helped create this room wanted to be left out, ' Barry explained with what I thought was a slight blush.

'The more, the merrier, ' I answered brightly, looking around at the room properly for the first time.

$\"\"$

It was large, at least sixty feet by forty, with two large pillars in the centre supporting a metal beam. At the far end was a raised platform about afoot higher than the rest of the floor. On it stood a pair of stocks that could secure feet, wrist and head. Alongside was a St. Andrew's cross. Standing, like some glorious wooden throne, was a sizeable chunky chair, the position of which could be amended by the looks of the various hinges, bolts and wing nuts.

Hanging behind the platform arrangement was a series of whips and chains on a beautifully crafted set of wooden hooks. Just below these was a wooden box about eighteen inches square. I had no idea what it was, but it intrigued me.

'Queening Stool.' One of Barry's friends pointed out.

'A what?' I questioned.

'You know a Queening Stood. A woman lies with her head in it, and a man sits over it, and she can give him a rim job.'

'Oh.' Was all I could say in response.

$\"\"$

'Of course, the guys sitting could give something to the woman if required. But that might be a bit extreme, don't you think?

'Um, yes maybe, ' I stammered, knowing that I had already partaken in a couple of such encounters, although without the aid of a Queening Stool.

'This is my electrician, ' Barry explained, introducing one of the men, 'and this is his incredible electrical torture tool.' Behind the guy was a converted toolbox that, when opened, contained various wires, fuses, and a soldered circuit board. A flex led from one side to a three-pin plug, while from the other came wires bearing a pair of metal clips and a rounded probe about six inches long and one inch round.

Above the stage area, attached to a large wooden beam, was, as I later discovered, a very intricate pulley system working a shorter beam. The position of anything connected to this could be altered to either stretch arms out wide or straight up.

To either side at floor level was another set of pulleys that could be used to spread legs apart. It seemed to me that Barry and his team had thought things through very carefully.

At the opposite end of the room were some stacked plastic chairs and a large, deep double mattress. I was gobsmacked, never having seen anything like it before in my life.

'It's pretty impressive, ' I had to confess, turning to the designer and creator.

'Well, on and off, it's taken us eighteen months to get this far, ' Barry explained.

'He's a perfectionist, you see, ' one of his employees added, 'He made that cross twice as the first one didn't look right. It was fine to us but not to him.'

Barry smiled, 'I like things just so. The only thing missing was someone to use it all with us. That was until today.'

'I gave a half-smile, knowing that there could be no backing out. I was in it for the long haul, and it was going to be a painful one.'

'Rachel, ' one of the younger guys asked, 'I know you came to be... well... er... tortured in this room, but... can I ask something?'

'Yes, of course, ' I answered, sensing his embarrassment.

'I never realised you were so fucking pretty and sexy until I saw you. Would you allow us all to fuck you before we do anything else?'

This request didn't surprise me, not because I consider myself 'sexy' in any way. On the contrary, I always thought I was a bit dull and plain. However, I had discovered that physical sex with me was mighty big on their agenda among my peers at the University.

Barry looked at me, 'How do you feel about that, Rachel?'

I looked around the room at the equipment all set up, ready and waiting for me. Then I looked at the seven men standing around me.

'I guess as I have travelled up here, you may as well do whatever you desire with me. It might also cut down on the torture time, too, ' I answered, trying to give a confident little laugh.

'Are you sure you're happy, Rachel?' Barry checked, 'Any limitations in what they can do?'

'Yes, I'm happy, and I'll let you know if any of you cross the line, ' I answered.

'Okay then, lads, ' Barry responded, 'She's all ours, three holes, pretty face and... Well, we still have to see the rest. So let's strip her down!'

I stood still as the guys undid the dress I was wearing and pulled it down to reveal my bra and panties underneath. The bra was quickly undone, and my breasts were exposed. Somebody pulled my panties down to my ankles, and I was helped to step out of them. I remained standing as my shoes were untied and removed, followed by my socks, until I was naked before the seven men. Being stripped nude had taken just a few seconds.

$\"\"$

It did not take long for the guys to undo buttons and unzip their trousers to release their large, solid erections. I was led to the mattress and made to kneel to massage them and provide the required blow jobs.

On many occasions at University and working in a strip club, I discovered that most guys were never happy with just using one of my orifices. Most wanted at least two and, if available, all three. Although much older than most of the men I had played with, these northern builders were no different. It was very soon apparent that everything on my person that could be penetrated must be available.

Taking on seven horny guys takes some time, especially as they all wanted to fire their loads on multiple occasions and in various places.

It was gone midnight when the sex-charged guys had finished using my body that was now wet with both sweat and a liberal splattering of cum. There was also a rather putrid aroma within the room.

$\"\"$

'I think we need something to eat, ' Barry commented as he commenced dressing.

'I'll order some Pizza if you tell me what you want, Rachel. Then while I'm gone, my men will position you for the night.'

I enjoy hot spicy food, just as I enjoy hot spicy sex, I guess, so I ordered the most sizzling pizza available.

Barry had already told me that the office basement was to be my, in his words, dungeon over the two nights I had agreed to stay. For some unknown reason, I had not, however, contemplated being bound all night.

The men lowered the beam on the pulley system, and soft white ropes were attached. I was given a white cotton robe and told to tie it around my tummy. I complied as several twistsof duct tape were applied all the way around, above and below my breasts. I held my hands aloft to assist the guys in their efforts. Then my wrists were tied to the cotton ropes, and the beam was lifted, pulling me taught until my feet were just taking my weight.

Apart from the food, I had no idea what was coming next.

Barry eventually returned and seemed happy enough to see me in my new position. As my hands were securely bound above my head, I had no way of feeding myself. My pizza, therefore, was offered to me, along with a bottle of Coke, by seven sets of willing hands.

After my journey there and several hours of constant sex, I was as hungry as a horse and wolfed the whole of a large and hot pizza down, helped with copious amounts of Coca-Cola.

When we had all finished, and Barry had collected up the leftover containers, he turned to me. 'Do you remember the first film clip I showed you that time we met?'

He had shown me so many that it was not easy to remember the sequence I had viewed them.

'The one where the woman gets her breasts slapped around?'

'Yes, I do now, ' I replied.

'We have set you up in just the same way. Dressed in a white robe and bound above and below your tits. They are not as big as hers, but that will not matter. We want to slap them, as agreed sixty times if you're still happy.'

I braced myself and nodded.

'We have a problem, though. There are now seven of us when originally there were going to be six. If it were six, we would each have twenty shots in two sessions over the weekend. So what I propose is that six have the two sessions, then the two leftovers, one of whom will be me, get to do a third session on the last night. Agreed?'

I had little alternative as I nodded again with a slight smile.

'Right, let's get started, ' Barry commanded, 'Let's all watch that clip to ensure we get it right.'

He pulled his little DVD player out of a bag and, holding it, played the piece I had first witnessed six weeks before. The difference was that playing it in a film was one thing, but this was for real and would be very sore.

'You have all seen the video again, so set about it.'

One of the men undid the knot tying my robe and pulled aside the part covering my breasts, leaving them exposed and vulnerable. After a few pulls to ensure the robe was far enough away, he removed a ring from his finger.

$\"\"$

It had all seemed a little unreal up to this moment. I had thought about all Barry had spoken to me about on our first meeting and in subsequent telephone conversations. I knew I wanted to be the first woman to use his specially prepared and costly 'Bondage Basement, ' I knew too that I did not want to fail, but now suspended tightly with my breasts exposed and three men lining up to slap them, I went weak at the knees.

Barry must have seen this as he commanded the pulley be ratcheted up another couple of notches until I was standing on tiptoes.

I want you to spit in all our faces before we commence, ' Barry stated, 'Just like the woman in the film.'

The first man stood before me, looking rather lustfully in my direction. I cleared my throat and spat hard in the direction of his face.

Suddenly, a hand flew towards my right breast and landed with an almighty thwack. I screamed in both surprise and with the stinging pain. Then his right hand seemed to uncoil and swing with great rapidity to strike my left breast. Before I'd even let out another squeak of pain, my right breast received another stinging blow.

Right, left, right, left, the hard slaps continued to the side of my rapidly reddening breasts. I attempted to swing on the rope, securing my hands above my head, but was too slow. When I swung to the right, I usually met his left hand, exposing more of my breast to the hard and painful impact.

Then, as suddenly as he had started, he stopped. 'Twenty, ' he said to no one in particular. I took stock to catch my breath as the second guy stepped up and stood in front of me. He rearranged my robe, ensuring no fabric would hinder the progress of his hands.

He looked at me as I spat again in his direction with the venom of a poisonous snake.

His body wheeled around as his hands aimed at my tits with just as much vigour as the first guy. I grunted each time his open palms made contact with my skin; my voice raised to screaming point by the time he had finished and stood back.

I was breathless and, for the second time that night, perspiring freely.

My legs gave way at the knees, and I hung by the ropes as the final assailant of the evening approached me. I was so sore and felt like my flesh was going to peel away from my breasts. Tears were welling up in my eyes and starting to run down my cheeks.

'Whore?' The man now before me said.

I took one look and once again spat hard and wild in his face as I found new strength from somewhere to tolerate another hard slapping of my breasts. As I saw the man step back to aim, I realised, with some satisfaction, that I was moist between my legs. I was so wet I could feel it running down the inside of my thighs. I was enjoying the first event of an excellent hard BDSM session.

I did not have time to think any further as my body swayed under another barrage of blows from two open hands. The outside of my breasts was bright red when all was finished. The pain seemed to be spreading from the area of sixty slaps right across my torso. I breathed heavily and enjoyed just hanging in my bonds.

'You've got spunk, young lassie, ' Barry commented, 'I'm rock hard again after seeing that.'

I was, I must say, tenderly let down and released before being led across to the St Andrews cross, where my ankles were strapped tight along with my wrists so that I took the form of the wooden structure to which I was now firmly attached.

$\"\"$

A thin foam groundsheet was then slid under my body to make the position a tad more comfortable.

I then watched in amazement as one of the men lowered the back on the oversized chair. This allowed the cross, to which I was now attached, to be laid flat on top and secured with bolts and wing nuts.

From the rear of the cross, two men pulled down wooden feet to stabilise it. I was now spreadeagled, my back facing the ceiling and totally helpless.

Barry applied copious amounts of soothing camomile ointment to my sore and red breasts, for which I was greatly relieved.

'We are going home now, ' I was informed, 'but before we do, we have one more little pleasure for you.'

Two smooth clips, a little like the backs of teaspoons, appeared with wires running from them. These were attached to my little toes. The springs on these were not harsh, so they did not cause any significant discomfort. Then the probe that I had seen on arrival was slipped into my pussy. It required no force due to the moisture already there; it just felt cold and hard as it was pushed deep inside.

'Enjoy yourself, ' I was told as all of them made to leave.

'What are you doing?' I enquired with a bit of apprehension.

'Going home to get some sleep in preparation for tomorrow. You'll be perfectly safe here. See you in the morning. Goodnight.'

With that, the lights went out, and I saw the glow from outside disappear as the door was closed. I heard the lock turn, then silence, and pitch blackness.

At first, I felt a small surge of panic. I was naked, spread, sore, alone, and smelly from my earlier sexual activities. I knew, though, that I was in no danger and, in any case, the room was soundproofed.

Thankfully, the cross was of such quality that it was reasonably comfortable on which to lie. The thin foam 'mattress' helped take away the hardness of the wood. Not as comfy as a bed, but bearable. I closed my eyes, thought about where I was and what had already happened and wondered about the coming day. As I did so, I drifted off into a light sleep.

I awoke with a shock. I had no idea how long I had been asleep or what time it was. A sensation started in my feet and travelled through my legs. Then a wave of something commenced in my pussy. It took a while to perceive what was going on. I realised it was the clips and probe. I was receiving some form of electrical stimulation. Just as suddenly as it started, it stopped.

I waited in expectancy for more pulses, vibrations or whatever, but nothing happened. After a while, I relaxed and dozed off again.

Suddenly, I was wide awake and trembling, with my pussy tingling like crazy. It was an experience between my opened legs that I had never felt before. In the darkness, I now realised that the clips and probe must be on some timer.

I tried to calculate how long it had been since I was last awakened. Another short, sharp shock between my legs caused me to become instantaneously wide awake. The shock left a strange tingling sensation again. I lay tensed, hands clenched in a fist as I waited for another shock. It never came, and I began to relax.

Sometime later, despite being very limited in my ability to move and change position, I drifted back off to sleep only to be awakened by a weird feeling pulsating up my legs - yet another shock from this rather annoying machine.

I lost track of any sense of time as I dozed and then woke when the subsequent new and different pulses from the electrical clips on my toes and stimuli in my vagina commenced. It seemed they occurred at regular intervals, but I did not know how often.

I was eventually woken from my light slumber by a different noise. I lay in the darkness trying to work out what was happening when suddenly the door opened, and light from the stairwell flooded into my darkened dungeon.

'How are you this morning, Rachel?' I recognised Barry's voice.

'Sore and stiff, ' I replied truthfully.

'Let me release you.'

As Barry undid the bonds securing me to the wood, I was mighty relieved to be free, at least for now.

'Did you enjoy our little surprise through the night?' Barry enquired, smiling.

'That was a shocking thing to do to me, ' I responded, attempting a little humour. 'I never knew when it was going to start up.'

'It was set to come on every hour with a different rhythm of impulses.'

'It certainly did that alright, ' I replied, standing at last and removing the probe from between my legs.

'If you come with me, there is a shower through here, ' Barry explained as he led the way into another smaller room with some kitchen cupboards on top of which sat a kettle and a microwave.

We entered a small shower room through another door, a wet room with a toilet, sink, and shower with a curtain around it. The room was fully tiled.

'Take as long as you need. When you come out, breakfast will be waiting, ' Barry informed me amiably.

$\"\"$

'It was so nice to get under the warm flow of the shower and wash myself down, removing all the sticky remnants of the previous evening's activities. The areas around my breasts smarted under the heat of the water; however, I stayed longer, enjoying, more than usual, the sensation of the running stream across my skin.

When I finally did leave and return, still naked to the kitchen area, I discovered that Barry had been joined by three more of his employees from the previous night. They had worked hard to prepare a bowl of porridge (well, I am from Scotland) and as many slices of toast, jam, and marmalade as I could stuff down myself.

$\"\"$

As we ate together, I did feel somewhat vulnerable sitting naked with the men and even more so when the rest joined us about half an hour later. Here I was, one twenty-one-year-old student with seven horny guys, most old enough to be my father. I knew that all were intent on causing me a lot of suffering for their sexual pleasure in the hours ahead.

'Rachel, could we ask you to go back into the shower room, please?' Barry requested. 'I'd like you to put these curlers in so your hair is slightly curly and bouncy as it was when I first met you. I hope these are the correct type? I'm not an expert on curlers.'

I took the packet of curlers and obeyed unquestioningly.

'We are just going to lock you in while we set everything up. Are you still okay about today?'

I nodded as I headed back into the shower room to sort out my hair.

I guess I waited, with my curlers in place, about half an hour before being let out of the shower room. I was told to remove the rollers before a large Hessian builders' sack was put over my head, and I was frogmarched through the kitchen and into the torture chamber.

The men assisted me to sit on the large seat, and despite not being able to see, I realised there was a lot more to this throne than I had initially seen. As I sat upon it, various adjustments were made so that my legs rested straight in front of me on two slats that were pivoted to spread my legs wide once my ankles were bound. I guessed this provided quite an eyeful of my most intimate area to anyone viewing from the front. My wrists were tied to the seat's arms with leather cuffs, and a large, thick black leather collar was placed around my neck and somehow attached to the chair behind me.

$\"\"$

Despite having my head in a bag, I knew that the sight of me in such a way must be having some hardening effects on my captors.

'So Rachel, what would you say to your mother if she knew where you were just now and what you were doing?'

I gulped. 'I wouldn't tell her.'

'But we think you should. Come on, what would you say?'

'I don't know.'

'You should confess, shouldn't you? Tell her what you are, what you do and what we will do. Come on. Tell her and tell her what position you're in right now.'

I played along as best I could. 'Mummy, it's me, Rachel. I have something to tell you. Since starting University, I have become a....' I paused.

'Tell it like it is.'

'I have become a total whore. Last night I allowed seven men to fuck me in my mouth, arse and cunt. They were all mostly twice my age.'

'Good, tell it all, Rachel.'

'At University, I have allowed many guys to fuck me and use me as their slut. I have slept around at night. I have allowed myself to be bound and tortured for their pleasure. Mummy, I have joined a strip club and get paid for taking all my clothes off so that men can stare at my naked body. Afterwards, a friend and I have allowed men to pay us for sex. This happens almost weekly, with sometimes as many as ten guys queuing to use our bodies in some way.

Right now, I'm in a bondage room. Mummy, you will never believe that such a place exists. I have a bag over my head, but I am as naked as the day I was born. I'm tied to a chair with my legs wide apart. Anyone who wants to can see right up and into my hairy cunt.'

As I said that, I could feel something hard and pointed, pushing around my exposed pussy.

By looking out of the bottom of the bag, I could see that someone was exploring between my open legs with some type of stick.

'Tell your mum what's happening.'

'Mummy, I have agreed that these guys can do painful things, degrading things, sexual things to me for their pleasure. I'm being prodded like a cow between my legs with a stick. Mummy, please forgive me.'

'Very good.' I was told. 'Very good indeed. Now tell your mum what we all know you are.'

I wasn't sure what Barry was asking, so I took a stab and guessed what he wanted me to say.

'I'm now nothing more than the university whore, a student slut. I'm nothing more than a common prostitute.'

'Excellent. Never a truer word spoken.'

With that, the men removed the bag covering my head. I was looking into the faces of twenty other men, as well as the seven with whom I had agreed to spend the weekend.

$\"\"$

I took a deep breath as I realised everyone had heard my confession.

'We hope you don't mind, but these guys want to watch us abuse you and hear you cry for mercy. Is that alright?'

Bound in the position I was, I had little option. All present had already seen me fully exposed before, without my knowledge. I decided quickly to let them enjoy whatever was ahead of me. It also occurred to me that having so many watching might give me a little more incentive to endure the day. I determined to provide them with the show of their lives!

Barry looked down and addressed me. 'Rachel, as the audience arrived, they were given a multiple-choice paper with ten things they wanted to see done to you. The five with the most votes we will perform. All I can say is that your tiny tits will be very sore tonight.'

The first ‘torture’ was electrical, using the box and probes I had encountered during my uncomfortable might. However, the clips were to be placed on my nipples, and the probe pushed deep up my ever-moistening cunt.

'Change the clips, ' Barry ordered.

I watched with open eyes as the smooth clips that had been used on my toes were replaced with a much crueller-looking crocodile variety. I knew this would hurt even without any electrical stimulus.

The probe slipped effortlessly into my pussy, feeling a little like a large, hard cock. Barry teased me with the clips, gently stroking my nipples to get them to react. They became hard and erected, making it easy to position the clips.

I winced and took a sharp intake of breath as the first started to bite tight into my sensitive flesh until Barry released it completely.

Although still only twenty-one, I had learned a lot from my fellow students at University. This was, however, going to be a first for any kind of electrical BDSM. I had no idea at all what sensations I would feel or how I would respond. Obtaining apparatus that was safe for such a purpose was beyond a student's budget or skill level if they were planning to build one.

Suddenly, as I anticipated the coming minutes, I knew that my body was craving the shame and pain it would receive. It was craving it too much! I could feel liquid starting to seep out of my cunt and, despite my best efforts to hold myself together, I began to shake uncontrollably as I orgasmed big time.

I let out little 'Ohh's’ and 'Arrgh's' as I trembled and shuddered for nearly half a minute.

$\"\"$

'What's she doing?' someone asked, 'Is she okay?'

'Rachel? Rachel, was that what I think it was?' Barry questioned.

I looked up, still wearing just the one clip on my nipple. 'Yes, ' I managed to whisper, shocked myself at what had occurred without too much provocation. I noticed, too, that my body had suddenly become damp and clammy.

'She's orgasmed, ' Barry expostulated, 'The bitch has had an orgasm, and we haven't even started playing with her yet!'

There was a ripple of laughter around the room.

'Reckon the bitch will enjoy all this pain then if she couldn't wait for it, ' someone shouted.

Barry carefully attached the second clip, and I gritted my teeth as it bit hard into the remaining nipple.

Next, a sensation rolled through my body, not unlike lying on a beach and allowing a wave to crash over me. Again, I breathed in hard and whimpered. Suddenly, the sensation stopped. I let out a sigh of relief just as the shockwave commenced again, making me reflex rigidly against my bonds and cry out, ‘Nooooooooooo!'

The current ceased, and my body relaxed its straining against its bonds.

'How old are you?'

'Twenty One.'

'How many guys have fucked you, whore?' Barry asked.

'About fifteen.'

'Only fifteen? Only fifteen?' Barry repeated, his voice becoming louder and angrier.

'You're a fucking lying whore too!' he barked.

'You begged seven of us to fuck you last night, so in three years at university, you have only been fucked by eight other men?'

'Shock her again until she can start telling the truth.'

This time, a series of staggered electrical impulses whipped through my body, each lasting a couple of seconds, with a similar delay between them.

'Stop. Please Noooooo!' I pleaded.

'How many guys have had their cocks inside that filthy fanny of yours?'

'Thirty, ' I blurted out.

'Thirty, let's see then.'

Barry then produced a notebook. Inside, I had written the details of every liaison that I had enjoyed. The pages told with whom I had been, where it had occurred and what had happened.

'Where did you get that?' I enquired

'I have my ways, ' Barry replied nonchalantly.

'I shall read out all the names from this sordid book, and the crowd will count out loud. Then we will know by your own written confession how many cocks have made use of your open twenty-four-seven pussy.

Barry began to read a list of men's names, mostly students I had played with sexually during my time at the university. As he read, the crowd chanted the number.

$\"\"$

'Fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three, ' the men shouted out with obvious delight as I squirmed with acute embarrassment, restrained on my wooden bondage chair.

'Fifty-seven different men have fucked this all too dirty young whore!'

I confess I was a little surprised at that news. I knew that I had enjoyed a lot of sex with many guys, but although I had kept a list of them all, I had never counted them until that morning.

'Fifty-seven, ' Barry repeated, 'that deserves some more punishment. Give her the works!'

I braced myself for whatever was coming as I caught sight of most of the onlookers enjoying the spectacle.

Several shocks of varying degrees pulsated through my perspiring body and throbbing tits as I jumped, wriggled and shook with each.

'Please! Please! Fuck me!' I called out at the top of my voice.

'We fucked you last night. Don't want to do it again, do we?' Barry responded with a smile.

Finally, the session was over, and to my great relief, the clamps and probe were removed.

'Let's put the number fifty-seven here just above her hairy twat, ' Barry said, removing a permanent pen from his pocket, 'so we don't forget!'

He wrote the number 57 on the bottom of my tummy just above my natural pussy.

'Next is a good old-fashioned caning across your arse and thighs. One stroke for every guy you have allowed to fill you with their cum. Fifty-seven!'

I was unbound, helped to stand up and turned around. My arms were bound to the chair's arms, leaving me standing bent over with my bum stuck in the air.

$\"\"$

I never saw the cane at this time, but heard it swish through the air. Suddenly, with a sharp crack, it caught me just above my knees. I squealed as it felt as if my legs had been cut off with a sword. The next swish caught me across my bum with a similar, almost unbearable pain that seemed to ricochet through every sinew of my aching body.

After about ten strokes, the pain seemed to be almost dull. I realised that my body was becoming aroused. Was it because of my predicament or the pain the caning was causing? I did not know.

I was aware that moisture other than sweat was running down my legs. I was about to orgasm for a second time. The swishes stopped as I convulsed in an involuntary and uncontrollable climax.

'She loves it. Look at her! She's a total pain slut.'

'Look at her legs. She's wet herself?'

'Dirty whore.'

'No. Wait a minute. That's not pee. She's squirted all down her legs.'

'That's fuckin hot.'

'WOW!'

'Unbelievable!'

'In all the porn I have watched, I have never seen anything as incredible as that. Hot or what?'

'I've forgotten how many strokes I had given her, ' Barry piped in with some degree of consternation.

'I need to stroke myself, ' one of the onlookers commented dryly.

'Me too. This is the hottest thing I have ever seen. I love her screaming out. It makes me so hard.'

'I think you gave her twenty before... before she... err... well orgasmed.'

'I'm stopping at thirty, and I'll give her the other twenty-seven over her belly and the front of her legs.'

By the time I had received another ten strokes, I was finding it hard to stand. I danced after each strike and called out until I felt I was hoarse.

I was breathing heavily when the caning stopped. I knew my bum and the back of my legs must be red raw. They certainly felt like it.

I was allowed a break and was glad to lie face down on the mattress and wipe the tears from my eyes. What was it about this sort of treatment I enjoyed so much? I could not tell, but was delighted to gulp down two cups of tea and some sandwiches that someone had thoughtfully brought along while another rubbed soothing camomile on my red, sore bum.

The break gave my body a few moments to recover, which it desperately required. The subsequent painful encounter with the cane would be on my thighs and across my tummy. My biggest concern about this was not so much the pain I would endure but the fact that I would be able to watch the cane as it struck home!

I decided, therefore, to close my eyes tightly until it was all over. My body ached from head to toe, and I knew my bum and the back of my thighs must be showing bright red lines where the cane had made contact with my skin. It felt like I had sat down on a fire.

I now knew that the front of my body would soon be equally sore. Mixed emotions were going through my mind. I wanted the punishment to stop. I was already in so much pain from the caning. The electrical torture I had endured seemed to keep recycling, at least in my mind.

Then I wanted to push the boundaries and be taken to somewhere pain-wise I had never gone before. I was also acutely aware that most of the onlookers had either lowered their trousers or were stroking their rock-solid cocks, having released them through their pants. I wasn't about to let them all down for my comfort.

The cross, on which I had spent an uncomfortable night, was positioned once again on top of the chair and secured. I was helped into position and bound tight. I marvelled at how cleverly all the apparatus was designed. I realised that hundreds of hours of intricate work must have gone into the production of this unique basement.

I was brought back to reality by the sound of a swish before receiving a dull sting on my right thigh. I gasped more in shock than pain. The men had swapped the cane for a heavy flogger, which I knew from experience would be slightly more bearable. The more the leather laces of the flogger struck the same area, the more painful it became, and the front of my body started to turn lobster red.

Tummy, thighs, tummy! The strokes kept coming with unremitting ferocity as I held the otherwise quiet room captivated with my gasps and groans. Those using the flogger on me enjoyed taking time out to survey their work and lengthen the proceedings. It also allowed all to hear me breathing heavily due to the new pain I was experiencing. What a way to spend a Saturday.

Just when I felt I would explode with pain, the flogging stopped, and I opened my eyes wet with tears of pain. I was sobbing like a child as shafts of pain raced through every nerve in my body.

The men moved the chair, with some difficulty, until I was underneath the double beam contraption on the roof. I watched while the lower beam was released and dropped to about four feet above me.

Barry then took great delight in showing everyone some little metal clips on the end of a thin metal chain. My first introduction to Clover Clamps. I still possess the two sets used on me that day.

I looked on through my ever-widening, tear-filled eyes as Barry commenced to place the little clamps on my nipples. I must have subconsciously enjoyed the flogging because my nipples had become hard and erect without me even realising. They were just perfect for the subsequent torture to be inflicted on me.

When the clamps were attached, I gritted my teeth as they bit into my tender nipples.

The linking chain was attached to a D ring clip hanging on another short chain secured to a hook in the lowered wooden beam. I could easily see what was to occur; however, I was in for another painful surprise.

A further pair of Clover Clamps appeared, and one of the builders took great delight in searching through my exposed pussy for the right place to attach the clamps. He found it as my cry of pain testified. A similar format followed. The clamps connecting the chain were attached to a D-ring clip at the end of another chain, which was placed on the same hook in the beam.

I could feel my mouth going dry as my eyes started to cloud over with more tears. It seemed that as my mouth dried, everywhere else became wet. I sweated freely until my skin was glistening under the lights and, strangely, once again, my pussy was becoming very moist.

I heard a handle turning with a strange rattling noise, like you might hear when a door opens in a horror movie. Then suddenly, the lights went out, and we were in total darkness. The room went silent, apart from the grinding of the handle.

I felt the clips in both sensitive areas of my body tighten and grip deep into my flesh. At first, I gasped, then whimpered and finally, through the impenetrable darkness, I let out a blood-curdling scream as I felt my tits and cunt were going to be pulled right off.

$\"\"$

I realised that I was breathing very rapidly and shallowly. I arched my back to relieve the pressure on my tits, but that worsened the pain in my cunt.

'Ohhhh Noooooooo!' I called out in desperation.

To my great relief, the creaking of the handle stopped.

Now the only sound heard was my shallow, heavy, rapid breathing. My throat had become so dry that I felt I couldn't muster another suffering cry of agony.

I just lay in the darkness, enduring pain that I was sure I had never felt before. Then suddenly, I knew that something else, totally unwanted, was going to happen. I could feel the dampness issuing from my pussy lips and running down my bum. It produced a kind of tickling effect.

I knew my body was about to go into orgasm. I tried desperately to control it. My breathing became sporadic, and I fought against the bonds that held me tight to this wooden implement of torture.

'Oh please no... Not that!' I managed to croak out.

Hearing me suddenly struggle and change my breathing patterns, Barry quickly called for the lights to be turned back on.

As light flooded the room, everyone watching was treated to the sight of me with my tits stretched taught and my pussy lips pulled tight, shaking uncontrollably, grunting and groaning like a demented pig. I was enduring pain and enjoying pleasure at the same time.

The ecstasy of my orgasm was to some degree stunted by the intense agony of my stretched tits and fanny. As I naturally wriggled and squirmed in pleasure, the chains pulled the clamps tighter, resulting in more screams from my parched throat.

I knew that such screams of anguish must be having quite an effect on the audience who had come to view and enjoy such an unusual spectacle.

Again, my breathing rate soared, as did my heart rate, as I came down from my pleasure cloud of torment.

'That was so hot, ' someone stated.

As I regained my thoughts, I looked around. Every man who had been watching from the seats had left them. They wanted a better view of the torture I was now enduring.

'How long do you think the bitch can endure staying in that position?' one of the watchers questioned.

'Let's find out, ' Barry responded with another one of those sadistic smiles playing on his face.

Various items of food were brought in and handed out as guys walked around me, looking intimately at my exposed position. Occasionally, one would give one of the small chains a flick with his finger, the results of which shot through my body like a knife through butter.

I was offered a sandwich and fed it while still in my prone, stretched position. Even the movement of my jaw caused great additional discomfort from the clamps holding my nipples and pussy tight in their iron grip. Lying down with my head slightly tilted back also made swallowing hard work. I did not eat much.

Suddenly, Barry exclaimed to my great relief, 'That's enough, let the bitch down.'

Someone went to use the handle to lower the beam. Whether intentionally or otherwise, he commenced winding it the wrong way, and the clamps bit tighter, my tits and cunt lips were pulled tauter, and I screamed louder!

Barry ran to the handle and quickly turned it in the opposite direction, issuing a stream of expletives toward the previous operator.

As the chains slackened, one of Barry's colleagues quickly unclipped the clamps, and I breathed a deep sigh of relief. That was short-lived as the blood flooded into my very tender and stretched areas, causing almost as much pain as the torturous device I had just worn. I am sure some observing the proceedings wondered why I was once again breathing heavily, squirming against my bonds, and grunting like a dog in heat.

Barry was obviously aware of what was happening unseen inside my body as he and others quickly undid the straps on my wrists and ankles to release me fully. I immediately began to rub my breasts and cunt vigorously in what some must have thought was an act of masturbation.

Finally, I stood up and managed a half-smile, more of relief than anything else.

'Are you alright?' Barry questioned sympathetically.

'I think I will be, ' I replied with as much humour as I could manage, 'next week.'

The young man who had turned the crank the wrong way came and apologised. 'I'm so very sorry, ' he said, 'I never intended to do that. I just wasn't thinking.'

I smiled and gave a little roll of my eyes.

Put her in position for a body flogging, ' Barry instructed, after allowing me several gulps of water from a bottle to ease my parched throat.

My hands were bound above me to the beam as a homemade spacer bar was placed between my feet. I was then hauled up until I was standing in the spread-eagle position, similar to that on the St Andrew's Cross.

$\"\"$

'We intend to use this flogger front and back until....' Barry couldn't seem to work out when the until was.

'She passes out, ' one of his employees added playfully.

'Not quite. We do want lots more screaming and begging for mercy, though, don't we lads?' Barry responded with a smile as he addressed the audience.

'Yes, ' they answered back almost in unison.

As I braced myself for this next challenge, I was surprised to see two men holding large leather floggers. I had already felt the results of one, but two?

The men stood opposite each other, one slightly in front of me and the other behind. It did not take a genius to appreciate that one would lash my back and the other my breasts.

Suddenly, some classical music started playing very loudly. 'We got this idea from 'The Story of O, ' Barry announced above the cacophony of sound. As the music speeds up, so will these men, and your suffering should become much more intense.

The two builders removed their tops, standing like Roman gladiators with bare chests, arms and rippling muscles. I had little doubt that they meant business. I also knew that these floggers were nothing like the cheap affairs I had previously experienced. These were big, long, multi-strand heavy leather affairs. I already knew they could hurt, as my tummy and thighs testified.

As the music played, the two men worked almost in symmetry, seemingly timing every lash across my back or breasts to perfection. It was only after the event that I discovered that they had practised this routine for several days before my arrival.

My body felt as if I had been lying naked in the sun all day without sunscreen. Each time the men unleashed their power, my skin felt it would blister and burst. As I looked down, I could see my tits were turning bright pink, and I knew from the pain in my back that a similar fate was also befalling that.

The music mostly drowned out my screams, squawks, shrieks, squeals and shouts as its rich but loud tempo filled the basement and seemed to echo off the walls. I am sure the distressed look on my face told the story of the suffering I was enduring, even though my calls of affliction were lost to the trumpets, tubas and trombones.

As the pace of the music increased, so did the number of strikes with the floggers. The only thing in my favour was that the men using them could not keep up the ferocity of their power if they worked in time to the music. That said, I did not know which was the worst, more force or more floggings.

Suddenly, as the music reached its zenith, the two men stepped back as another with a leather belt took his place. As the cymbal crashed, his belt twice uncurled between my legs, giving me a short but painful pussy whipping.

I was literally in so much pain all over my body that I lost my footing. I ended up hanging by the ropes as the belt struck home with a vicious slapping noise as it passed between my legs, concluding its upward trajectory against my reddening bum.

Thankfully, the music stopped, and so did my torture. I thought I would pass out or die or both as my arms took the total weight of my body. My breathing was, once again, deep and laboured. My legs were unsteady as the men untied the ropes around my wrists.

I collapsed to the ground, not knowing where to put myself for the most comfort. As I looked up, I could see several men standing, working vigorously at the cocks. I watched one after another relieve themselves, and I knew that my present suffering was not in vain.

'Would you three go to my van and bring the item that's waiting in the back?' Barry asked some of his workforce.

'Did you finish it?' one of them enquired eagerly.

'Yes. I completed it at three this morning, ' Barry replied with another of his almost sadistic smiles.

I guess everyone was almost as eager as I to see what would be carried into the room. When it did arrive, I had little idea what it was. It looked like a smaller version of a gymnastic pommel horse I knew from my school days. As it came closer, I could see that this too was made from oak with four sturdy legs linked by timbers into which 'O' rings had been screwed.

It was some sort of bondage equipment I had never seen.

'Do you like it?' Barry asked, looking at me.

I was still nursing every part of my aching body from my position on the ground.

'What is it?' I questioned with some trepidation.

Barry looked a little crestfallen when he realised I did not recognise his new addition.

'It's a Wooden Pony, ' he replied, 'and we can use it in several ways.'

He then graphically explained to his naive young Scottish pain slut the various ways to use his newly constructed contraption. Some were obvious, while I thought other ideas seemed a little far-fetched.

When Barry said, 'We want you to sit on it, ' I realised, to my horror, just what it had been designed to do. My pussy was already burning as though covered in a liberal splattering of Tabasco sauce. I knew that this further punishment would feel as though it had received an additional red-hot polka.

'We will lift you onto the beam and sit you there, Rachel. Then we will enjoy the sights and sounds that should follow.'

Two men assisted me to my feet, and for what seemed the umpteenth time that day, my arms were attached to the beam. As it was cranked up, I realised that I would have to take the full weight of my body with my arms to rise high enough to sit on the rounded wooden top of the 'pony.'

As my feet left the floor, four men placed the pony between my legs. When it was in position, the beam was slowly lowered until I could feel the wood touching my already sore and throbbing pussy.

$\"\"$

I winced and cried, 'Ohhh. Noooo. No more.'

I could feel the cruel, round wooden pole that topped off this new implement of cruelty as it pressed hard against my vulva and pubic bones. I pulled myself up on the ropes to relieve the pressure between my legs. Everyone knew, including me, that I could not stay in such a position for long. After only a minute or two, my arms tired, and I gently lowered myself again onto the pole that felt to me to be on fire.

'Ohhhh. Aarrrrrgh. Fuuuuuuuuck.' I screamed as my pussy lips took the weight of my body.

Someone lowered the bar above me to stop me from lifting myself to relieve the biting, burning pain. My cunt lips were swollen and sore as I teetered, balancing myself on this deviously effective device.

'What would you do if we let you off?' Barry asked with evident enjoyment of my predicament.

'Anything, ' I gasped, tears flowing from my eyes as I attempted to relieve the pain.

'Really? Absolutely anything?'

'Yeeeesss.'

'You heard her, lads, ' Barry announced. 'You wouldn't be a lying bitch would you?'

'Nooooo. Please?' I begged, 'Let me off.'

'Why?'

'Please! Please, Please.'

Then, inextricably, once again, I realised that the pole on which I was sitting was becoming wet. Some of those enjoying my intense and painful discomfort had noticed this phenomenon, perhaps even before I had. The wetter the wood became with my pussy juices, the slippier it was.

I fought with the ropes to keep from sliding too much, but the more I fought to control my predicament, the more pain I inflicted on myself and the closer I came to what I knew would be the inevitable outcome.

I grabbed at the ropes as my body convulsed painfully in yet another unexpected orgasm that brought more merriment to my inquisitors and further deep but sore joy to me. It was evident to all that pain was one way to get my body to respond in a sexually charged manner.

I was left sitting very uncomfortably perched on the wooden pony for another five minutes until Barry gave the word that my present torture was to end. The beam was cranked up just enough to relieve the pressure between my legs. Quickly, the wooden pony that had caused me such agony was removed.

'You made a promise, young lady, ' Barry reminded me as my feet once again touched the ground. 'You said you were willing to do anything, absolutely anything if we stopped your torment. We all heard you, and we intend to keep you to your promise!'

'I think, ' Barry announced, 'That Rachel here has entertained us more than enough today. If she's happy, we will perform one more act on her and close out the session.'

Surprisingly no one complained. I certainly wasn't going to object.

My hands were bound above me to the beam as a homemade spacer bar was placed between my feet. I was then hauled up until I was standing in the spreadeagle position that I had been on the St Andrew's Cross.

'How do you think everyone wants to see you suffering next?' Barry questioned.

I had no idea.

'It seems that the majority want to see you endure more electrical torture. Are you up to it?'

I was just relieved it was not the cane once again. I had found that and the force used so painful. I felt this was a kinder option that I was being offered. I was not, however, expecting what extra little surprise lay in store. The extra set of smooth clips used during the night appeared along with what I knew was a cattle prod.

The more serrated clips were attached to the fleshy part between my thumb and forefinger. The smoother clips were again placed on my toes.

Barry asked the audience, 'Shall we place the probe up her fucking cunt or filthy shit hole?'

My bum won.

Just then, someone shouted out from the audience, 'You should bind her in a more exciting position than that!'

Barry stopped and asked the man what he meant. The man came and stood next to me. Untie her, then bind her hands behind her back and attach them to the beam. As you raise that, her hands will come up higher, and she will bend over. It will be painful for her but great fun for us.

I did not fully comprehend what the man had suggested, but it was clear that Barry had. He ordered that I was taken down from my spread position and my hands bound behind my back. A rope from the beam was then tied to my bonds, and the beam cranked up. As it did so, it lifted my hands, and I started to bend to relieve the pressure on my arms and shoulders.

'This is what the Germans used to do to their prisoners in Russia, ' the man explained.

As the beam was raised, I realised just how painful the position was. My arms went higher as my face went lower. Eventually, after I had made many grunting, groaning, ooooh's and ahrrrrghs, the beam stopped.

I was bent almost double with my bum prone, my tits hanging like two tiny udders below me, my legs apart to provide stability, and every muscle in my body taught seemingly to breaking point. I now understood just why the man had suggested this position. It was excruciatingly painful and left me totally helpless and completely at the mercy, or otherwise, of those using me.

The vicious crocodile clips were now reapplied to my hands, bent up and behind me. To the delight of all, the probe was shoved with some force into my rectum whilst the smoother clips were now placed on my dangling nipples.

$\"\"$

I waited, tensed for the pain to start—first, a throbbing in my hands followed by a pulsating burning sensation deep in my bum. I took in a sharp breath before yelling out, 'Ohh Nooooo, ' as the shock waves increased. I danced and jumped, causing intense pain in my position. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the sensation was gone.

'Why don't you plait her hair into a ponytail and also tie it to the beam?' the new torturer suggested.

Barry thought for a second or two before replying, 'We can plait her hair, but I think I have a better idea.'

He went into the kitchen and came back with a little metal U clip with two small balls angled in at the bottom.

'Nose clip, ' Barry explained to the man from the audience. 'Never used one before; however, there is always a first time.'

I had never seen one either, but I had little opportunity to object from my position of pain and torment.

The balls were placed into my nostrils, leaving the U to come up and rest on the bridge of my nose. A piece of string was threaded through and attached to the beam after it had been lowered, providing me with a few moments' respite.

Once I heard the beam being cranked back up, I realised that my suffering had just doubled. As my hands went higher, I could not lower my head, as that too was pulled up by my nose.

'Fuck you, you bastards, ' I blurted out in my agony.

'Oh, she's getting feisty now, isn't she?' one of my tormenters commented.

'Pull it tighter, ' Barry ordered.

'Ohhhhhh.Nooooooo. Please!' I screamed.

'Scream on, honey, ' the guy from the audience replied. 'The more you scream, the more you turn us on.' He then undid his fly to release his dick and stroked it inches from my face. It provided me with a close-up of the pleasure my pain was giving.

Suddenly, without warning, my tits began to tremble as pulse after pulse of electrical stimulation shot through them. I tried to jump, but my restricted position made it impossible. The only thing I could do for relief was scream blue murder!'

'Fuuuuuuuuuuuck Meeeeee. Noooooooooo!'

'Fuck you, yes!' the reply returned as my bum started to feel something stimulating it. The guy operating the electrical machine enjoyed himself, switching the various pulses, waves and shocks from hands to tits to bum.

I was once again sweating buckets as I tried to second-guess where the next sensation would come.

Finally, the probe was pulled out of my bum, and the clips were removed from my hands and nipples. I was so relieved until I saw two cattle prods being held for all to see.

'You're going to dance slut, ' one of Barry's men stated.

The two builders holding the devices moved behind me, so I could not see where they intended to inflict further pain. My arms felt as though they would pull clean out of my shoulder sockets as I waited in tense expectation for the subsequent painful encounter to commence.

A sharp pain around my left ankle caused me to shout and lift the foot quickly off the ground. A second similar sensation followed in my right ankle. Then my left knee followed by the right. I was like a soldier on parade following their left-right, left-right drill. Every lift of my feet brought me more pain in my arms, back and shoulders.

Finally, the two men came to either side, and I could see the prods moving towards my chest. The position of my head stopped me from seeing exactly where they intended to poke me, but I knew soon enough as a sharp, piercing feeling shot through both breasts simultaneously. Once again, I lept as far as my painful bonds would allow.

That was it. To my relief, I felt the beam slacken as Barry removed my dreadful nose hook while others worked quickly to release my hands.

'Wait a minute, ' one of Barry's men said, 'We haven't really pussy whipped the bitch yet. We just gave her a couple of strikes with the belt.'

'I think Rachel has endured enough for one day, ' Barry replied with a degree of sympathy.

'Awww. That would have been such a great position to crack the leather hard up her cunt. I think we should.'

Barry turned to me with a pleading expression as if asking, 'May we?'

'If you leave the nose hook off, I may just about manage.'

'We want it to stay on. It's so fucking sexy, and we get to see the expression of pain on your face.'

I had no real choice. I could have refused, but I felt that I would lose face with everyone, whereas enduring a little more pain (or maybe a lot more) would be considered a heroine of sorts. I chose the pain!

Up went my arms and head as I faced the audience, who were paying rapt attention to what this twenty-one-year-old was about to endure. I planted my feet, still held open by the spreader bar, firmly on the ground.

Without warning, a 'thwack' struck home right between my legs. I felt that some vicious, sharp-toothed creature had bitten me. I screamed at the onlookers, but almost immediately another then another harsh strike shot up into my reddening pussy. My screams merged into one continual ear-splitting screech of pain as the leather end of the crop hit home time and again. I even noticed, through my tears, some of the guys covering their ears as the noise I was making reverberated through the sparsely furnished basement.

$\"\"$

Just as suddenly as it had commenced, the whipping of my pussy stopped. I was in too much pain to notice the lowering of the beam, the unbinding of my wrists or the removal of the nose hook and spreader bar. I collapsed, sobbing onto the hard tiled floor, holding my red and incredibly sore pussy. As I did so, I felt the dampness once again issuing between my raw cunt lips. I had subconsciously reacted positively again to what I had endured.

Every one of the men who had spent the time watching my torture came and thanked me for the entertainment they had witnessed. I was still in a daze as they left, but I knew that I had provided a lot of wanking pleasure during the day. I was sure that the majority were going home with their pockets full of damp and sticky handkerchiefs.

Finally, just Barry and his crowd were left alone with me, their willing pain slut. They kindly assisted me onto the mattress and commenced to rub my various sore and swollen parts with a concoction of creams and ointments. I did not object as I opened my legs to receive their ministrations willingly.

'Before we leave you, ' Barry said, 'How do you feel about your breast slapping tonight? I know you have taken a lot, and I don't want to push you beyond your limits.'

I played as though I had not entirely understood. Barry came closer and asked again. As he did so, I exploded like a coiled viper and spat with all the force I could manage directly into his face. The suddenness of my attack caught him and his colleagues by surprise.

One of them laughed uproariously, 'I guess that's a yes, Barry, ' he spluttered.

Barry smiled as he wiped his face. 'You're a fuckin brave little cunt, ' he responded with a smile.

'I tried to smile back and answered, 'I think thirty and not sixty slaps will be all I can manage. I'm sorry.'

'Good grief, girl, ' Barry replied, 'I never expected you to agree to any after what you have endured today.'

I was strung up to the beam, hands above my head, while Barry and his friends slapped my breasts with their bare hands as they counted out loud. After thirty hard, stinging smacks, my breast pussy and shoulders felt like they were a raging fire.

As I was untied, I collapsed back onto the mattress to enjoy further applications of soothing lotions from willing hands.

$\"\"$

Barry arranged for Chinese takeout, and I think I ate more than anyone. I was famished.

That night, I was given several blankets and told I could sleep on the mattress without any discomfort. I confess that I was mightily relieved. The only stipulation was that I stay naked and would be left in total darkness.

I ensured that I used the loo before everyone left. I did not fancy trying to negotiate the bondage room, kitchen and into the shower room in total darkness. I was surprised to discover that I needed an audience as I sat on the loo. I have always found it strange that a girl sitting on the toilet can be of such interest to so many men.

After the builders had left and I was alone with my thoughts in the darkness, I pondered my options. I had agreed to a weekend of suffering at Barry's hands. I knew, however, that I had reached my limits. I could not face another day of the sort of intense pain I had just endured. I knew I would, on this occasion, have to lose face and concede defeat. I was battered, bruised and broken and I hoped that when the men turned up the next day, they would not be disappointed.

I passed a rather uncomfortable and lonely night in my darkened prison. I was in physical pain from the whippings and floggings I had endured, and I was also in deep emotional pain, knowing I was going to fail on my promises. I had thought I could fulfil these men's desires but had discovered, to my regret, that I had limitations.

Finally, the lights came on, and I heard the key turn in the lock. As my eyes adjusted to the light, Barry and two of his employees came in and helped me up. I had no idea how I was going to explain my situation to them.

'We have had a little discussion, ' Barry said, looking at me seriously. 'Even for someone who can endure what you can take, we feel that we did enough yesterday. We had a great time and feel there is no point pushing your limits. Are you happy for us to pamper you around Manchester all day?'

I could hardly believe what I was hearing. I was so delighted I nearly leapt up and kissed them all. Then I played my ace card.

'That's fine by me, but I don't want to ruin your weekend just because you feel I can't take anymore? I'd be happy to continue.'

'No. Yesterday was the day of our lives. Today we want to say a big 'Thank you.'

After showering under the interested gaze of Barry and his workers, I dressed. I realised that trying to put on any underwear would not be possible as I was so sore. It was five days before I could wear either bar or knickers pain-free.

Sitting in the rear of Barry's beautiful Mercedes, I struggled to get comfortable between the two men on either side of me. They delighted in allowing their hands to roam freely under my loose-fitting dress and onto my sore breasts and pussy. The leather seats seemed exceptionally hard on my well-reddened bum as I squirmed to find a new position every few minutes.

$\"\"$

In the afternoon, having been shown the delights of Manchester, had two new outfits kindly purchased for me at the Trafford Centre, and seen several places for some reason football-related, I said farewell to my builder friends and got into my car.

$\"\"$

Barry handed me an envelope. 'That's from us. We want to say a big Thank You for coming. We hope you might return sometime?'

'Yes. I might, ' I smiled back.

'You promised yesterday that if we let you off the Wooden Pony, you'd do anything for us. We all heard you.'

'Yes, I did, ' I replied thoughtfully.

'So can we arrange another event sometime soon?'

I smiled and nodded as I drove away, still sore and a little aggrieved that I had not managed to endure the whole weekend.

I opened the envelope after pulling into a service station for coffee and the opportunity to relieve my sore bum. Inside was a lovely card signed by all seven of Barry's workforce, along with £ 1, 000! I could hardly believe it. I don't think I had ever held so much money in my life.

$\"\"$

The card invited me to return anytime and reminded me of my promise. I did return, but not to use the basement for its intended purpose. That, though, as they say, is another story.

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