Choose Your Own Spanking
32

(****, ?/?, Edgy, Could contain anything.)

This is an interactive story where you get to choose how the story progresses. (Approximately 975 words. Originally published 1998-02.)

With a panicked struggle you begin to kick and scream and fight. But you are tightly bound and gagged. Your efforts are useless, pointless, and in minutes you collapse in exhaustion, chest heaving as you strive to breathe.

"So. You are a Struggler," says the woman's voice right in your ear, her breath tickling you she is so close. "I _like_ Strugglers. They are so much fun to break down. I will have you eating out of my hand before long, pretty one." She laughs gaily, and her laughter both frightens and delights you. You wish you could see her, watch her mouth widen in a smile, or her eyes light up with anger or excitement, but there are only sounds in the darkness around you.

"I think I shall begin with a sound paddling," she says quietly. "To warm you up for a thorough whipping. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Your answer is a violent kicking and pulling and flailing of your entire body. In seconds you are spent, panting and wondering how you are going to be able to endure this torment. Before you can speak or protest you hear a tremendous slap and suddenly your body is flooded with pain. You renew your struggles but the paddle slams into you again, even harder it seems. Again and again it punishes you, hard, fast, merciless. Your determination is weakening, your resistance futile. Tears leak out from your eyes and a dull moan escapes your tightly clenched lips. Your buttocks are on fire, a light tingling playing across the surface of the flesh like small volts of electricity. Each hard spank renews the charge, bringing tears to your eyes and a quivering of your body. You cannot endure this much longer, but still the relentless torment continues, each stroke jarring your entire body.

Suddenly there's a new kind of pain, a cold pressure against your left buttcheek, almost soothing but unbearable in its gentleness and smoothness. It takes you a moment to realize it is a hand, softly caressing your burning bottom. The coldness of the hand makes you realize with astonishment how unbearably hot your buttocks are, and you begin to weep without remorse or control. The soothing hand is breaking you, giving you pleasure and pain with a single touch and you do not know how to react.

"Nice and hot," whispers the voice. "I think you are ready for your whipping now." A convulsion passes through your body and you moan loudly, wordlessly pleading with the woman for mercy. "Please, no more!" you think. "I can't take any more!"

But then you feel a dozen light touches dancing across your back. Your mind fills with the image of a martinet, a dozen thin strands of leather dangling from a short wooden handle. "Mmmmnnn!" you moan frantically, and begin to struggle wildly, careless of the consequences. All you can think about is escaping this mad woman, this nightmare that has enveloped you.

Then the whipping begins. It is light at first, even you are aware of that. You are conscious of a dozen thin strands splaying across your back and thighs. The tingling almost feels good, at first, after the horrendous body-numbing blows of the heavy wooden paddle, but soon the whipping increases in pace and force and it even strikes across your burning ass, and you want to scream for it to stop.

The lashing is hard now, and fast. You can feel scores of tiny welts and thin nodules of pulsing pain all over your back, buttocks, and thighs. The blindfold is soaked with your tears. Breathing is difficult -- you cannot seem to get enough air though the gag. You still kick and struggle but the bounds are impossibly strong. You can quiver and shake but are virtually immobile.

Slowly you begin to realize that this whipping will never end. The lash keeps descending, stroke after stroke after stroke. You are on fire. You feel as though all your skin has been flayed off. Even when the whip is not touching you you feel the pricks and stings all over your body. You are sweating profusely now, and the salty moisture is reviving hundreds of miniscule cuts and lacerations all across your flesh.

With a deep moan you collapse, dangling from your bonds, and for the first time accept the punishment without resistance, without protest. It is hard and painful, but soon you realize that it is not so bad. As each blow cuts into you, you grimace and tense, but the moment afterwards is priceless, a deep nirvana of relief and boundless sensitivity. Your every nerve is on alert, every sense absorbing countless sensations, the effect dizzying and overwhelming to your poor brain. You find yourself anticipating the next stroke of the whip, not in mindless fear, but mindless joy, as your desire for more exceeds your capacity to endure.

Then it is over, and slowly, ever so slowly, you descend from the high place and come back to earth, and you realize with profound shock and horror that your body is nothing more than a vessel of agony, every pore open and sucking in pain as though it were nurishment. A shiver passes through you, wracking your body with sharp stabs of hot and cold shocks. You dangle in your bonds and weep, exhausted and spent, both mentally and physically.

"That shall be enough for today," says the woman gently. "I shall see you on the morrow." Footsteps click loudly and fade away, and there's the sound of a metal door opening and closing. You are alone, in the dark, your body tingling with stinging pain, and you realize you have an urgent need to urinate...

Do you:

1. Piss on the floor [Go to 46]

2. Hold it [Go to 47]