Diary of a Pain Slut Week 04

Shirley's Mom answered me with a laugh. "You order on your own, Maddi, unless your Mistress has told you otherwise." She patted me on the back of my hand, "But you will figure all these things out soon enough."

I gave the waitress my order and after she got Mrs. Beckworth's order she minced back into the darkness. "Is she a slave?" I asked.

"No," Mr. Beckworth said. "She's a college student working her way through college. Her name's Tracy and she works here rather than at one of the bars or strip clubs because here no one pats her ass or tries to pick her up. Waitresses are considered slaves of the club, even though they are really employees. And it is against club rules to touch another person's slave without permission."

He then turned to Shirley and asked, "If Maddi is totally untrained, why did you have me reserve time on stage tonight so that you could display a new slave?"

"Daddy!" Shirley hissed. "That was supposed to be a surprise."

Shirley then turned to me and said, "Don't worry, Maddi. I just want to introduce you to the club and show them that you are a natural pain slut and worthy to be called a Society slave."

I was trying to figure out what to say, when her mother said to me, "Shirley didn't tell us that you were into pain. Did you start with self-pain or self-bondage pain sessions?"

I had been worried about Shirley's parents not understanding, but now the problem seemed to be that they understood all too well and were asking questions that I wasn't sure how to answer.

"Maddi is Beat Girl," Shirley said suddenly.

"Oh," her Mom responded. "That's why you looked somewhat familiar. I am so happy to meet Beat Girl in person. Master David bought me a season pass so I can watch all your sessions. He won't let me play, but I can watch and dream that it is me. I especially like to watch the TAZapper sessions. If he comes home late, he can tell if I have been watching the video from one of those sessions because I'm ready for anything by the time he gets his coat hung up."

This was the first time I had met one of Beat Girl's fans and now I really wasn't sure what to say. I was pretty sure that I shouldn't tell her that the TAZapper sessions were my least favorite. Luckily, our waitress arrived with our food before the silence got too long and I had to say anything.

It was a very good meal. I had a glass of wine with the meal and Shirley ordered a second glass for herself and for me as the table was being cleared. Her Mom and Dad ordered some sort of after dinner liqueur.

When the drinks came, Shirley turned her chair almost around and indicated that I should do the same. I wasn't sure why until I saw the hostess standing in the middle of the stage. "Masters and Doms," she began, "Mistresses and Monsieurs, for your entertainment tonight we have three offerings. The first is the punishment of a slave who has been disobedient one too many times. She was given a choice of relinquishing her collar or being punished publicly before you. She chose public punishment. The second is between two Mistresses, both of whom think that their slave can take more strokes of the cane. There is a very interesting bet riding on the results of that contest. And the final presentation is the introduction of a new slave to our midst. Let us begin with the punishment of a wayward slave."

"Slave gloria ends up on stage about once every six months," Mr. Beckworth explained quietly. "She claims she is not a pain slut, but she forces her Mistress to publicly beat the hell out of her a couple of times a year. Mistress Sharon knows what is going on, but she loves gloria and knows that gloria needs this."

The curtains opened on the stage and a large Saint Andrew's cross was pushed out to the front of the stage. A very blond, very white, very thin young woman was bound tightly to the cross facing it. A very striking looking woman in a black silk blouse and long, black leather skirt walked out to the middle of the stage. She was holding a very long leather paddle about three inches wide. It had some sort of wooden handle that was also wrapped in black leather.

"How many strokes do you think that you deserve for your disobedience?" the woman asked the bound slave.

"Twenty-five," the slave answered in a shaky voice.

"You will receive one hundred," the Mistress answered firmly.

"No please, Mistress, I could never stand that," begged the slave. "Please, no more than forty."

"Sixty," responded the Mistress.

"Fifty," replied the slave.

"Very well," said the woman in black. "I will respect your weakness and give you only fifty swats of the flat whip, but you must count each stroke properly or we begin again."

David again leaned in so that Maddi could hear and said, "It is always fifty strokes." Then he laughed slightly, "And about half the Masters and Mistresses have bets as to whether she messes up the count at eight, nine, or ten." He then sat back to watch what was unfolding on stage.

The woman had called it a flat whip, and she indeed handled it like a whip. She pulled her hand back and the long flap of leather curled back almost as would a bull whip. Then she snapped her wrist forward and the long, flat leather paddle whipped forward and slammed into the slave's ass.

The slave screamed a very high-pitched scream, but then said in a shaky voice, "One, thank you Mistress."

The stroke and the count were repeated again and again and again. On the tenth stroke, the bound slave yelped, but then said, "Twenty, thank you Mistress."

Mr. Beckworth leaned over toward the next table and the man there pushed a couple of bills into his hands. Evidently he had ten in the pool or whatever.

"Stupid slave," the Mistress growled. "We are going to have to start over and I am going to swing twice as hard. If you mess up the count again, we will keep starting over until you get it right."

She then pulled back on her arm and curled the flat whip in the air. This time when she flipped her wrist forward, you could almost hear the tip of the leather snap in the air. I made a very resounding "Thwack," as it slammed into the slave's ass cheeks. But this time it was not a yelp of pain. Instead, the slave said, "One, thank you Mistress." in a voice I have heard many times before because I have used it. It was the voice of pleasure pain.

"She didn't mess up the count," I whispered to Shirley. "That was her signal to her Mistress that her E buddies had arrived and she could start really laying it on."

"I know," said Shirley. She turned to me and grinned. "I know; you know; Mistress Sharon knows; the whole room knows; but slave gloria evidently doesn't know."

She turned a little further so that she could look me in the face, "Not everyone understands what it is to be a pain slut like you do. There are a lot of women- and men- out there who do not understand the cravings they feel in their body. Many seek the pleasure in pain without knowing why and are destroyed by people who take advantage of them. Many cannot accept what they are and destroy themselves. You have been given the gift of understanding who and what you are."

"And I have been given the gift of parents who understand, and..." I choked up a little at this point but I finally pushed out, "... the gift of a woman who loves me because of, and despite, what I am."

Shirley took my hand and then patted the side of her leg and pointed at the floor. I knelt on the floor next to her and put my head on her leg. My tears were wetting the fabric of her dress, but I didn't care. I closed my eyes and let her stroke my hair lightly as I knelt there and cried for joy.

I really wasn't hearing what was happening on stage, but suddenly Shirley's hands were gone from my hair and everyone in the room was applauding. I looked up on stage and the Saint Andrew's Cross was being twisted from side to side so that everyone in the room could see the results of the whipping.

With her very, very white skin, her now very red ass shown out like a beacon. There was some coloring of the skin at the top of the legs indicating that a couple of times the flat whip had struck a little low. But there were no marks on the lower back over the kidneys. Mistress Sharon knew her stuff and I doubted that those low strikes were accidental. I know from experience that a strike just below the ass cheek hurts five or ten times more than a swat on the meat of your ass.

As the cross was turned our direction, I could also see that the inside of slave gloria's thighs were wet all the way down to her knees. Her E buddies had definitely shown up for her. I pitied her, not because she had just received sixty swats with a really wicked looking whip, but because she didn't understand that all she had to do was tell her Mistress that she needed pleasure pain, and Mistress Sharon would have given her what she needed without having to go through all this charade of misbehavior. Oh well, it works for her. And I am in no position to say what is normal.

The cross was pushed off stage and the hostess returned to the center of the stage. "We have a disagreement between two Mistresses," she began. "Both claim to have the slave with the highest tolerance for pain of all the slaves in the club. And they are willing to bet their own asses on it."

There was a titter of laughter from the crowd. The hostess made a motion with her hands and two sets of stocks were pushed onto the stage. There was a female slave secured in each of the stocks. Their ankles were strapped to the front of the base of the stocks and they were bent over at the waist over a T-shaped piece. A strap over their back held them in place there and then their heads and hands went through normal stocks. These stocks were obviously intended as whipping stocks.

The stocks were positioned so that the slaves were facing each other. Each of them appeared to have a large, red ball gag in their mouths, but there didn't appear to be a holding strap going around their head. They also were holding large red balls in each of their hands.

"The contest is simple," the hostess began. "Mistress Darlene will cane Mistress Trudy's slave, and Mistress Trudy will cane Mistress Darlene's slave. Each slave has three rubber balls, one in each hand and one in her mouth. The first slave to drop all three is the loser, or should I say, the Mistress of the first slave to drop all three is the loser.

"The losing Mistress will then keep caning the slave in her stocks until that slave has dropped all three balls. At that point, the losing Mistress will replace the losing slave in the stocks and receive the number of strokes that it took to cause the winning slave to drop the balls."

She turned to two Mistresses dressed in leather Dom outfits who were standing on the edge of the stage. "Do you understand the terms of the bet?"

"Is there a limit to the number of strokes of the cane that she will receive?" asked one of the Doms.

"No," answered the other. "There is no limit as to how many strokes I am going to lay across your naked ass once you have lost."

"Then we begin," announced the hostess. "You will strike on my count, and only on my count. Is that understood?"

"Yes," both Mistresses answered and held their canes at the ready.

"One," intoned the hostess and both Doms swung as hard as they could with their canes.

Both slaves gave muffled grunts of pain, but neither dropped anything.

"Two," said the hostess.

Again both slaves grunted, but the one slave's grunt was higher pitched. I looked up at Shirley and said, "Mistress Darlene is going to lose, and lose badly."

"What?" she answered me.

"Mistress Trudy is more accurate with her swing than my robots. Harold had to program them to move slightly for each stroke or I couldn't stand the pain of getting hit time after time in the same place. Mistress Trudy is putting each stroke of the cane in exactly the same place. That slave won't be able to stand it for long."

Shirley smiled at me and leaned back to whisper something to her father. He then leaned across to the man from whom he had collected the earlier bet and after a few words, I saw them shake hands.

"You'd better be right," Shirley whispered down to me. "Dad has a thousand dollars riding on your word."

I wasn't wrong. On the fifth swing, the one slave let out a tremendous yelp and the rubber ball bounced across the stage. On the ninth swing, the ball from her left hand joined the other on the floor of the stage. I could see her fingers digging into the ball in her right hand as she tried to hold onto it, but I dropped the safety switch at ten before Harold reprogrammed the robots. I know that the pain was nearly unbearable. At twelve the slave groaned out, "Nooooo!" as she realized that her hand had involuntarily let go of the ball in reaction to the intense pain.

Mistress Trudy stood with her cane in her hand and looked over at her defeated opponent. Mistress Darlene glared at her as the hostess said, "I will begin the count again. The number when the slave drops the third ball is the number of strokes Mistress Darlene will receive from Mistress Trudy.

"One," she began. Mistress Darlene was swinging with all her might. The slave in her stocks had yet to drop a single ball. Her stroke was very strong, but her aim was wild. Each stroke was all over the place. The slaves ass was crisscrossed with stripes, but she still held on to all three balls.

It wasn't until "Fifteen" that the first ball dropped. Surprisingly, it wasn't the ball from the mouth, but rather the one from the left hand. At "Nineteen" the ball from the right hand joined its brother on the floor. It wasn't until "Twenty-seven" that the ball from the slave's mouth dropped.

I had expected it to fall when she screamed or something like that, but it just dropped to the floor as the slave grunted and twisted in the stocks. After it hit the floor, the slave spit something out of her mouth. It was a piece of the ball. She had dropped the ball not because she had opened her mouth to scream, but because she had bitten through it.

Regardless of the Mistresses caning techniques, that slave could handle a tremendous amount of pain- and I don't think it was pleasure pain. She was bearing the pain out of love and devotion to her Mistress. I'm not sure I totally understand that, but then she probably doesn't understand me getting pleasure out of pain either.

Mistress Darlene was sweaty with exertion. She looked out at the crowd in the club. "I acknowledge my defeat," she said firmly, "and I accept the consequences of it."

With that she began removing her clothing, letting each item drop as she removed it. Then she went over to the stocks which were now empty and draped herself across the front piece. Two burley men in black jeans and black T-shirts with "Security" written on the back, pulled her tight and began strapping her in place. Once she was firmly in place, they pushed the stocks out toward the front of the stage so that her ass was pointed toward the audience. Her ass cheeks glistened with her perspiration.

"The difference between what the two slaves endured was twenty-seven strokes," said the hostess. "You may begin, Mistress Trudy."

"And you'd better count them properly," Mistress Trudy said to her defeated opponent, "or Mistress or no Mistress, I will start over."

The snap of the cane striking Mistress Darlene's ass was very loud and echoed throughout the club. "One, Mistress Trudy," Mistress Darlene said.

By the tenth stroke, there was a single, dark purple, bleeding welt across Mistress Darlene's ass and she was crying and begging for Mistress Trudy to stop. By the fifteenth stroke she was almost incoherent. She got the number out, but was blubbering, "Please, no more. No more. Please, no more."

"There is only one way I will stop," responded Mistress Trudy. "If you submit to me as your Mistress and accept slavery at my hand."

There was a long period of silence and then Mistress Darlene said firmly, "Fifteen, thank you Mistress Trudy, may I have another."

She counted each stroke that way for the remainder of the caning, finishing with, "Twenty-seven, Mistress Trudy. I will still be a Mistress long after you are kneeling at the feet of a slave."

"Ouch," said Shirley's Dad. "That is one of the greatest insults you can throw at a Master or Mistress, to say that they will kneel at the feet of a slave."

He then looked down at Maddi and said, "Love is a wonderful emotion, but sometimes it is hate that will get you through hell."

"I hope I never have to find out," I answered. "I hope I never have to find out."

Shirley stroked my hair one last time and said, "Time for us to go up on stage." She smiled at me and then said, "You won't need hate to get through this. Just your love for me and some help from your E buddies."

I walked behind her as she crossed the dance floor and walked up the steps to the stage. There was a simple padded wooden chair in the middle of the stage. Shirley sat down on it and then patted her lap and said quietly, "Lay across my lap."

I did.

She looked out at the people in the club and said, "I am Mistress Shirley Beckworth. I want to introduce to you tonight a young woman whom I love and to whom I hope to extend my collar in the near future."

She patted me lightly on the butt. I felt really silly lying there across her lap looking out at the audience as she introduced me.

"Maddi is totally untrained and is basically ignorant of the rules and expectations of the Society. But she is the most natural pain slut that I have ever seen. And she has the heart of a slave who loves her Mistress. I want to show you both those qualities tonight."

She patted me lightly again and rubbed my ass. Her fingers slipped between my legs slightly and I felt myself starting to get wet.

"I also love her and she loves me." Shirley said. "As she is trained, and if she accepts my collar, I will bring her back up on stage regularly so that you can see her develop into a fully trained Society slave."

She stroked my butt and slid her hand between my legs. "Open yourself up," she said. "You should be open to this."

I spread my legs slightly and felt the air cool the moisture between my legs.

"I will start with one hundred spanks of my hand with her over my knee," Shirley explained. "Then I will give her fifty swats of a paddle while she is kneeling on the chair."

I heard myself gasp at that.

"Then," continued Shirley, "she will then put herself over the back of the chair for twelve cuts with the cane."

There was a smattering of polite applause from the crowd. She patted my butt a little harder and said, "Slave Maddi, this is my first public command to you. You MAY NOT CUM until the twelfth stroke of the cane. Do you understand this?"

"Yes," I said.

I understood what she said, but I didn't understand why she said it. She wanted me to hold myself back through the whole thing, and only let go at the very end. I wasn't sure I could do that.

"Let us begin," she said and started swatting me on the ass.

Her swats were firm and they stung, but they weren't exceptionally hard. After about a dozen hits, she said, "You don't have to count these, in fact, I don't want you to count these or the paddle, but when we get to the cane I want you to count them properly. I think you saw what was expected in the last presentation."

"Yes Mistress Shirley," I replied.

She patted me several times lightly on the butt as a way of saying that I had answered properly, and then she went back to a real spanking. I noticed that as she continued, she was getting harder and faster. The smacks were starting to really sting, and then they were starting to hurt, and then they were starting to really hurt.

I could feel my legs starting to kick on their own and I was starting to make little grunting sounds as I tried to keep quiet, but she was getting harder and harder and faster and faster. Then the first of my E buddies showed up.