{"loaderData":{"4":{"story":{"id":"7b4f64e0-d4e5-47a1-854e-5f4c3567c98e","seriesId":null,"seriesName":null,"currentUserId":"00000000-0000-0000-0000-000000000000","added":"2023-10-04T11:52:11.569Z","title":"The Picture of Miss Gray","slug":"the-picture-of-miss-gray","shortId":"uVzu2AuT","authorNote":null,"disclaimer":null,"type":"Short","paidUrl":null,"synopsis":"A female, S&M, version of the Picture of Dorian Gray.","partCount":1,"parts":[{"partId":"11f73c98-e22e-40e5-bf78-b1a3164c26b7","title":null,"summary":"\nThe Picture of Miss Gray\n\n(With\napologies to Oscar Wilde). \n\n\n\nThe fog lay heavy on London\nthat nig","wordCount":3135,"readTime":16,"number":1,"state":"Published"}],"currentPart":1,"contentTitle":"Chapter 1","content":"

\nThe Picture of Miss Gray

\n\n

(With\napologies to Oscar Wilde). \n

\n\n

\nThe fog lay heavy on London\nthat night of 1891. Strange echoes cut through the thick mist, the\nsound of an approaching person being heard before the dark form\nloomed out of the grey. Not three years had passed since London’s\ngreatest killer had haunted such fogs, killing five women in the\nSpitalfields and Whitechapel areas. No self-respecting woman should\nbe out on a night like this. \n

\n Miss Gray hurried along the\nback streets of London, in a seamy area of the city. It was\napproaching midnight, but she did not seem to be bothered by the\nlateness of the hour. Nothing seemed to bother her as she walked,\ndodging the odd drunk who stumbled out of some drinking\nestablishment. \n

\n Eventually she stopped in a\nside alley, one that did not even possess a name. Miss Gray stopped\nnext to a green door, although it looked darker in the night and the\nfog. The light of a gas lamp barely illuminated where she stood in\nthe alley. \n

\n Miss Gray knocked three\ntimes on the door, then twice, then three times more. She waited.\nEventually the door was opened by an overweight woman in her fifties.\nA lit cigarette hung from her painted lips.

\n “What do you want?” the\nmiddle-aged woman asked, her voice harsh from too much gin and too\nmany cheap cigarettes. She stared at the young woman in front of her:\ntwenty-something, pretty, and well-turned out in her clothes. She\nlooked flawless. “I think you’ve got the wrong place.”

\n “I think not.” the\nyoung woman said, in a perfect cut glass accent. “This is\nThrashings Academy, is it not?”

\n That was the name that was\nused by those who were aware of what went on behind the green door.\nIt had had other names, over the years, and other locations. It was\nan institute which had been visited by such renowned masochists as\nAlgernon Swinburne. There, behind its brick walls, those who had\nenough money could have the, well, thrashing\nof their life, administered by a cruel and pretty girl.

\n “I wish to avail myself\nof your services.” Miss Gray said, forcing her way through the\ndoor, past the older woman. “I have more than enough money.” \n

\n Miss Gray was now in the\nlobby of the establishment, the entrance foyer. Purple flock\nwallpaper covered the walls. There were several comfortable\narmchairs, where gentlemen clients might wait. The armchairs, not\ncurrently holding such a gentleman, had antimacassars on them. There\nwas a mahogany occasional table in front of the chairs, with a white\nmarble ashtray in the centre of the table. Naked women had been\ncarved into the design of the ashtray. There was a very faint scent\nof attar of roses in the air.

\n Miss Gray showed some of\nthe notes in her purse, interesting the beady eyes of the madam who\nran the place. Money talked, then as now.

\n “Alright.” the older\nwoman muttered. If this young woman wanted to be beaten, that was\nfine, as long as she could pay for it. But there was no point in\ncrippling this young fool. “Alice doesn’t hit too hard. She’s\njust finishing up with a…”

\n “No, you misconstrue.”\nMiss Gray said, and smiled. “I do not seek some gentle paddling,\nsuch as might be administered by some understanding suitor. What I\ndesire is the cruellest termagant in your employ. I desire the full\nexperience, such as few can bear. I will pay double your standard\nprices, on each visit, for if I suffer what I consider to be enough\npain, then I will make my visits regular. But should I feel that your\ngirl is holding back, and not punishing me because I am a member of\nthe fairer sex, then I will seek services elsewhere in future.”

\n Miss Gray offered a\nconsiderable amount of money in front of the nose of the older woman.\nIt was not refused, but snatched by the madam. She stuffed it down\nthe front of her blouse.

\n “No need of that.” the\nolder woman muttered. “We can do whatever you want. But I think it\nmight be too much for you.”

\n “It will not.”

\n “Victoria?” the woman\ncalled out. “I’ve got a special for you.”

\n A woman in her late\nthirties came through a door into the lobby of this establishment.\nShe had jet black hair, drawn back into a very severe bun. A couple\nof long hairpins had been thrust into her hair. She had thin lips.\nShe was dressed all in black.

\n “I heard.” Victoria\nsaid. She smiled. It was a cruel smile, more suitable to that of a\ncrocodile about to devour its prey. Victoria rarely got to play these\ndays, after several men had complained that she was a little too\nsevere. Victoria was looking forward to taking this young woman down\na peg or two. “I take it that the Black Room is free?”

\n “Of course.”

\n Victoria grabbed Miss Gray\nby the arm. She led her up a thin set of stairs, and down a landing.\nVictoria stopped in front of what looked like a featureless section\nof wall. She pulled down on a gas lamp fitting, and a secret door\nopened, where none had been before. \n

\n “There are some places\nwhich we do not want the forces of law and order to see, on the rare\noccasions that we get raided.” Victoria explained. “Such a place\nis the Black Room.”

\n Victoria pushed Miss Gray\ninto the chamber. She followed her in, and pulled the door shut\nbehind her. It closed with a click.

\n Miss Gray looked around the\nroom with approval. There was no window, and as Miss Gray had entered\nthe chamber she had noticed that the wall was a lot thicker than\nusual. Some attempt had been made not to let out the sounds of this\nroom permeate out – and this was in an establishment where cries of\npain were not unusual.

\n The walls had been painted\nblack. Light was provided by two gaslights on the walls. They lit up\nwhat could only be considered to be a torture chamber. Iron chains\nhung from the ceiling, dangling from a pulley system. There was a\nwooden vaulting horse, with iron rings set into the wood, so that\nsomebody might be bound over it. There was a wooden frame in the\nshape of an X. Hanging from nails set into one wall was a selection\nof paddles, riding crops, canes and whips. \n

\n “Get ready.” Victoria\nsaid. “I can’t beat you through your clothes.”

\n Miss Gray undressed\nquickly. Off came her calfskin gloves; her suede shoes; her jacket,\nblouse and skirt; and lastly her corset. Miss Gray surprised Victoria\nby the fact that she did not bother with underwear. This was clearly\na most unusual young woman. \n

\n Miss Gray’s body was\nflawless. There was not a single mark on her skin: not a single scar,\nnot a mole, not even a freckle.

\n Back in Miss Gray’s\nluxurious Knightsbridge apartment, however, there hung a portrait of\nher, of her naked body, one painted in such detail it was better than\nany photograph. But that\nnaked body was not flawless. There were bags under the eyes from too\nmany late nights and too much alcohol; burn marks on the breasts\nwhich appeared to have been inflicted – self-inflicted – by a\ncigarette, and a few other fading marks.

\n “Over the horse.”\nVictoria said. Miss Gray arranged herself over the equipment. Stout\ncord tied her wrists and ankles to the rings set in the wood.\nVictoria pulled the cord as tight as she could. Victoria then went to\nthe wall and selected a thin, whippy cane, of the sort in use, in\nthose times, to punish recalcitrant children. Victoria gave a few\npractice swings. She smiled. She would make this woman scream. \n

\n Victoria went and stood\nbehind Miss Gray. There was no warning. \n

\n
\n\n

\nThe cruel Victoria raised the\narm holding the cane and whipped it down on the fleshy parts of Miss\nGray’s buttocks. It was something which Victoria had done to many\nmen, and the occasional lady. \n

\n Miss Gray gasped in pain. A\nfaint line appeared on Miss Gray’s milk-like skin. It was, perhaps,\na little fainter than was usual for Victoria. These days there were\nfew men who requested her ministrations, as Victoria tended to get\ncarried away, inflicting more damage than had been expected, creating\nmore pain than the masochist could transubstantiate into warped\npleasure.

\n Time and again Victoria\nwhipped the cane down on Miss Gray’s pert arse. The brutal caning\nwas only brought to an end when the cane broke. But the skin had no\nmore than a healthy glow, such as might be inflicted by a hand\nspanking. Victoria stared at the younger woman’s backside. She\ncouldn’t believe it. This silly young woman should have been\nbleeding by now. Victoria wondered whether she was losing her touch.

\n Back in Miss Gray’s\nKnightsbridge apartment, however, her nude portrait looked somewhat\ndifferent to before. Somehow her body had moved in the painting, so\nthat her naked back and rear were facing towards any viewer. The skin\nwas pale, apart from Miss Gray’s buttocks. Those were bleeding.\nBlood was seeping out of many lines across the nates, little droplets\nmaking a slow journey across Miss Gray’s sweet derriere, to\neventually drip down onto the floor. \n

\n
\n\n

\n“I’m not finished yet.”\nVictoria said, as she cast aside the broken cane. “I’ll make you\nscream. They always scream. Then I’ll make you beg for mercy. And I\nwill show none. You wanted pain, and you will have it, in abundance.”

\n Victoria, her face grim,\nreleased Miss Gray from the horse. Miss Gray straightened up. There\nwere tears in her eyes. She had felt every bit of the pain, every\ncruel stroke. The fact that there was no permanent damage to her had\nnot lessened her suffering, not one whit. But she had come here to\nsuffer. It was what she desired, what she needed, to savour the\nsensations beyond the mundane.

\n Miss Gray was too weak to\nresist. She let herself be led over to the X-frame. She was chained\nin place, facing the frame, her full breasts pressing against the\ndark, splintery wood.

\n Victoria went over to the\nwhips hanging from the wall. Her gaze took in the paddle, the riding\ncrop, and others. But it settled on the bullwhip. She smiled. It had\nbeen too long since she had found anybody who could bear its sting.

\n Crack!

\n Victoria gave a practice\nswing of the bullwhip. The sound made Miss Gray jump. She tried to\nlook over her shoulder, to see when the whip would strike. She needed\nto see. To anticipate the pain, to see the leather swinging towards\nher, and not to be able to do anything about it, was an intrinsic\npart of Miss Gray’s masochism. Here she was, in a secret room in a\nseedy London brothel, about to be whipped with an implement that\ncould rip skin of a body, and nobody would come to her rescue. She\nwas at the mercy of a cruel and merciless harridan. The idea made\nMiss Gray wet.

\n Crack!

\n “AAAAH!” Miss Gray had\nnot been able to help screaming. The sound had been torn\ninvoluntarily out of her mouth. That had been worse than any blow of\nthe cane. It had been delivered to her back. It should have split the\nskin. But there was only a thin red line. The magic of the painting\nheld.

\n “I told you that you\nwould scream.” Victoria smirked. But she was worried. That stroke\nshould have drawn blood. It would have on any of the foolish men who\nVictoria had been lucky enough to flog. Victoria worried that perhaps\nshe was losing some of the strength in her whipping arm. Still,\nthough, perhaps it was for the best. This foolish young woman might\nlast longer before fainting, this way.

\n Victoria carried on\nwhipping Miss Gray’s defenceless back. Each stroke produced a red\nline, but did not cut the skin. Victoria had no idea that, in Miss\nGray’s rooms, there was a painting which absorbed the real damage:\na portrait of a young woman whose back was cut to shreds.

\n With each cruel stroke Miss\nGray screamed. But she did not yet beg for mercy. That was beginning\nto irritate Victoria.

\n The sadist dropped the\nblack leather bullwhip on the floor of this hidden torture chamber.\nShe unchained the naked young woman. Victoria had to help support the\nyounger woman, lest she drop to the floor. Victoria moved her around,\nchained with her back to the X-frame. Miss Gray realised what was\nabout to occur. Her unfashionably large breasts were on display, and\nwould obviously be the target now. Miss Gray’s light brown nipples\nwere erect, as though they welcomed the savagery to be unleashed upon\nthem.

\n As tears of agony flowed\ndown her cheeks Miss Gray managed to lift her head to gaze at her\ntormentor.

\n “Do your worst.” Miss\nGray said. “I may scream, but I will not beg.” \n

\n
\n\n

\nThe words infuriated Victoria.\nShe snatched the bullwhip off the floor, and attacked Miss Gray’s\nbreasts with a fury. With each stroke Miss Gray screamed as though\nshe was being tortured in the pits of Hell. With each stroke the\nleather of the bullwhip sank down into the soft flesh, deforming it.\nEach stroke should have caused blood to flow. But the only result was\na pale red line.

\n Not so where the painting\nhung. The painting had changed again, the naked Miss Gray now facing\nto the front. The painting was perfect in its detail. Each dark,\ncurly pubic hair could be seen. As could each brutal cut into the\nbreasts. These cuts were severe, with blood flowing freely from each\none. Such brutality could only end up mutilating those breasts. But,\nin the real world…

\n Victoria threw the whip\naside in disgust. Miss Gray had screamed a lot. But she had not\nbegged for mercy. Nor had her breasts been ruined, despite Victoria\nhaving used all of the strength in her arm. The flesh should have\nbeen hanging in tatters. Of what was this young made, that she could\nwithstand the whip? Victoria, though, was not about to admit defeat.\nThere was one final thing which she could do.

\n She released Miss Gray from\nthe X-frame. Miss Gray slid to the floor, too exhausted by the pain\nwhich she had suffered to stand. \n

\n Victoria grabbed Miss Gray\nby one ankle, and dragged the younger woman across the floor of the\nchamber, until she was beneath those iron chains dangling from the\nceiling. Victoria operated the pulley to lower two chains to the\nground. Each had a leather manacle attached. \n

\n Normally the manacles would\nhave gone around the wrists of some male submissive, his arms spread\nwide as he was dragged up into the air by the operation of the\npulley. But Victoria attached the manacles to Miss Gray’s ankles.\nMiss Gray was then raised up into the air, her legs spread wide by\nthat action. When Miss Gray’s head had left the floor Victoria\nstopped, and secured the pulley. She secured Miss Gray’s wrists to\nchains leading to iron rings set into the floor. Once again Miss Gray\nwas in an X, albeit upside-down, this time. The blood rushed to her\nhead, keeping her awake. \n

\n Victoria took one of the\nlong hairpins out of her tight bun. She stood next to Miss Gray, and\ngrabbed one of Miss Gray’s hairy cuntlips. Victoria, her\nfingernails punishing the soft labia, stretched it out as far as it\nwould go. The hairpin was forced through the top of the cuntlips,\nthen through the flesh of the thigh, and then back through the bottom\nof the cuntlips, securing it to the thigh.

\n Miss Gray screamed, but did\nnot beg.

\n The process was then\nduplicated with the other hairpin, and the other cuntlips. Miss Gray\nwas now wide open, the pink of the inside as visible as it had ever\nbeen.

\n “Let’s get rid of that\nhair before we work on that quim.” Victoria said. She got out a\nflask of alcohol, and poured it all over Miss Gray’s pubic bush.\nBut, with the labia so cruelly spread, a lot of the stinging alcohol\nwent inside Miss Gray’s cunt, between her lips. Victoria made sure\nthat the other woman’s clit had been made wet by the alcohol. \n

\n “Last chance to beg.”\nVictoria said. But Miss Gray remained quiet. \n

\n A match was produced, and\nlit, a little point of brightness in the black-painted room. Victoria\nheld the match to the hair of Miss Gray’s crotch. Miss Gray\nscreamed as her pubic hair was engulfed by a blue flame. That same\nflame burned her labia, and her clit, and the entrance to her cunt.

\n Miss Gray screamed and\nscreamed again, as she tried to thrash around as much as the chains\nallowed.

\n “Mercy! Mercy!” she\ncried.

\n “I said that I would get\nyou to beg for mercy.” Victoria said, with a smile. The sadist’s\neyes were bright. She was beginning to enjoy this session. She had\nnever found any masochist who could stand up to the sadism which she\ndesired to inflict. But this strange young woman could take nearly\nanything. Victoria was now imagining all of the things which they\ncould do in future; and she knew that, after the conclusion of this\nsession, that Miss Gray would be back. \n

\n “I have no mercy.”\nVictoria said. “You would not respect me if I had. The session will\nend when I say it will end; and we still have the cropping of your\ncunt to take place.”

\n Victoria almost danced over\nto the whips hanging on the wall, and selected the leather riding\ncrop. It did not have a flared square end, like most riding crops,\nbut ended in a point. This would normally cut the skin – or, at\nleast, cut the skin of a normal person. But Victoria had realised\nthat this was no normal person. The sadistic whore had worked out\nthat this young woman could suffer no real damage, no matter what was\ndone to her – but that she took every little morsel of the pain,\nand that that was not reduced. For a sadist like Victoria that was\nideal. She could do what she wanted with Miss Gray, knowing that she\nwould not kill her. There would be no scandal, only the infliction of\nevery kind of pain which Victoria had ever fantasised about\ninflicting on another human being. Victoria was already imagining\nfuture sessions, with long skewers, branding irons, rat traps and\nother indelicate delights.

\n Victoria cropped Miss\nGray’s cunt. But to say that was to underestimate the ability\nVictoria had to inflict pain with her whip hand. Every inch of skin\nwas hit as hard as Victoria could: Miss Gray’s arsehole and\nperineum, her stretched labia, the entrance to Miss Gray’s cunt.\nincluding her pisshole, and, of course, Miss Gray’s clit. Her clit\nwas whipped over and over again, Victoria knowing full well the\nworkings of a woman’s genitalia, and the pain which such a whipping\nwould inflict. It was while Victoria was savagely whipping that erect\nclit – a whipping which would have ruined any normal bud – that\nMiss Gray finally fainted, signalling an end to the session.

\n
\n\n

\nLater, back in her\nKnightsbridge apartment, a naked Miss Gray lolled in a comfortable\nchair, as she stared at her picture hanging on the wall. All of the\nred lines on Miss Gray had faded, and there were no burn marks on her\ncrotch. No, for all of the damage had been absorbed by the painting.\nThe only change to Miss Gray was that her pubic hair was gone, and\nshe had already decided that she liked it that way. It felt so smooth\nwhen she caressed herself. She would keep it shaved from now on.

\n She stared up at the\nruined, naked woman in the picture: the breasts almost whip to\nshreds, and the bleeding and burned cut. Miss Gray stared, as her\nfingers caressed her undamaged labia and clit, as she frigged herself\nto a massive orgasm, as she mentally relived all of the terrible\ncruelties which she had suffered – and what further tortures she\nmight suffer if (no, when) she returned to that place.

\n
\n\n

\nThe End

\n
\n\n

\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n

\n
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","authorName":"Crowley","authorUserId":"24246195-559a-461c-a6d3-e12d9a6af0eb","rating":5,"ratingCount":3,"reviewCount":3,"quoteCount":0,"storyCodes":["Extreme","Historical","Real Life","Bondage","Domination","Masochism","Pain","Sadism","Consensual"],"language":"English","readTime":16,"recommendations":[{"id":"b10b2f02-65c7-4243-809f-4f4b5a394618","title":"Just another fun Saturday at the farm Sat Jan 31 2023 Extreme whipping torture by Master Farmer","slug":"just-another-fun-saturday-at-the-farm-sat-jan-31-2023-extreme-whipping-torture","shortId":"7W6hnkag","synopsis":"this story is based upon my one trip to the horse farm that prior to my trip there the farmer and myself had discussed about a extreme sentence of torture of my worthless useless body that I have carried for many years it wanted to have him perform on me.","rating":5},{"id":"53c6c159-166a-43c6-8fe3-fcc71ab5c4a9","title":"More Tea On Thursday","slug":"more-tea-on-thursday","shortId":"8z7QBiZ4","synopsis":"Heavy torture of a female slave in an alternate world where BDSM is a way of life.","rating":5},{"id":"9061ba13-be53-41a2-86e1-f504117a8858","title":"The Tormentor","slug":"the-tormentor","shortId":"kHwLLunl","synopsis":"The planning is done, it's time to follow through with a truly sadistic task created by a masochist, for herself. It's time to meet her tormentor.","rating":5}]}}},"actionData":null,"errors":null}