The Girl and the Party

The girl felt manicured nails rest on her thigh then slowly trace up her body as her Mistress admired her. She heard Mistress speak and realized that an audience must have gathered around them.

"Isn't my little Darling beautiful like this? Look at her naked little shaved cunt, so wet and hungry, pushed out and vulnerable. Look at how scared she is. She knows she can't protect any of her pale, tender flesh from my whip. She's not even a pain-slut, this terrifies her. You know I'm going to hurt you now, don't you Darling?"

"Y-yes Mistress."

"I'm going to whip you until you scream, Darling. Red welts all over your white skin, your tender breasts, your widespread thighs. And you consent to that, don't you? You offered yourself up to be bound on this altar of pain."

"Yes Mistress." The girl sobbed in terror.

"Why do you consent to so much pain?"

"To please you, Mistress."

"Ah, isn't that perfect? A round of applause for Darling, please."

The girl heard a polite round of applause, like the audience at the symphony but smaller. She felt Mistress's breath in her ear as Mistress leaned down to whisper to her.

"Go ahead and beg for mercy whenever you need to, Darling. I won't give you any, of course, but I'll love hearing your pleas."

The girl was going to protest that she could be strong for Mistress, and take the whip without begging, but the first blow was already falling as soon as Mistress straightened up. It went diagonally across her stomach, the tip of the whip cracking into her hip. The girl made a small cry of pain and gritted her teeth.

The girl managed to make it through four strikes before she screamed for the first time, when the whip came down across the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, inches away from her pussy. She was still screaming as the whip caught her other thigh, leaving a matching line of fire.

The girl had been whipped before, of course, but never by so skilled a hand. Mistress varied the timing of her strokes so that the girl could never anticipate when the whip would next crack through the air. It was the first time the girl had been whipped blindfolded, and the terror of not knowing where the whip was going to land during the half a second between the sound and the impact heightened the pain of each blow. Mistress seemed particularly fond of whipping the girl's breasts, returning to them over and over, and the girl screamed each time the leather seared her tender flesh.

The girl wasn't sure when she had started begging for mercy. She sobbed and pled, her throat growing raw from her screams. It was alright to do this; Mistress had given the girl permission.

The girl knew there was a word she could say that would stop the pain, but Mistress had said that she wanted to see the girl suffer. The girl was willing to suffer, because she had fallen in love with Mistress at first sight (or first whisper, rather - the girl could only imagine what Mistress looked like). Because of this, the girl used every other word she could think of to beg for mercy, but not the one word that would actually grant her mercy. She suffered, and she wept with pain, and she bore it. Not gladly, that was not the right word for the girl's mental state as the whip tortured her, but she bore it.

Eventually she realized that the whipping had stopped. The girl lay there, shaking, shuddering to draw breath. Everything from her shoulders to her knees felt like it was on fire. She heard a voice, and she knew it was important, but she couldn't understand the words.

Hands moved at the girl's wrists, and her arms could move again, though she didn't have the energy to move them. Soft hands stroked the girl's face and the voice spoke again.

"Darling, can you hear me?"

"Mistress?"

"Darling, I want to take your mask off. I need your permission to do that. Can I show your face to all these people, so they can see how beautiful your tears have made you?"

"Yes Mistress, anything."

Hands moved at her head, and the girl's mask came away. She had been in darkness for so long that she couldn't bear the light at first. Fresh tears sprang to her eyes as she blinked, and the world of sight returned to her, blurry through her tears.

The girl could see a ceiling above her, white molded plaster, and a chandelier with a hundred tiny bulbs of light. There were people all around her, many in colorful dresses or dark suits with gleaming masks in fur and feather. A handful of the forms were naked except for cuff and collar, their masks simple dominoes like the girl's, kneeling by the guests. The girl saw a man in a tuxedo wearing a fox mask with a naked woman in white stockings kneeling in front of him, his hand on her head as it bobbed back and forth. The girl recognized the mask as the one her boyfriend had worn to the party, and she felt her heart warm to know he had watched her suffering.

But even her boyfriend could not hold the girl's attention when compared to Mistress Avalea. Mistress was standing next to the girl, her hand still lightly touching the girl's face. Mistress wore a blue dress that gleamed in the light, gathered at one shoulder by a diamond brooch, her other shoulder and both arms bare and gorgeous. Mistress's face was hidden behind a flaring phoenix mask that held back her long fiery red hair, but her green eyes were staring into the girl's soul. Even through the veil of her tears, the girl felt that she had never in her life seen anyone more beautiful than Mistress.

"You're so beautiful, Darling. You're transcendent, the agony in your eyes. I hurt you so badly, didn't I?"

"Yes Mistress."

"And how do you feel about me now?"

"I love you, Mistress." The girl felt like a flower telling the sun that it loved it; obvious and insignificant. But Mistress smiled down at her.

"I know, Darling. Just for tonight, I love you too. Let me show you how I proved my love."

Mistress bent down and took the girl under her shoulder, lifting her up so that the girl could look down at her body. Her white skin was covered in red stripes, more than she could count, more than the dozen she had taken in the hardest whipping she'd ever had before. The worst were crisscrossed over the tender flesh of her breasts, which were uniformly red now. A small part of the girl's mind realized that there were less actual welts than she had expected, despite how agonizing it had been.

"This is your body, given to me. What do you say, Darling?"

"Thank you, Mistress."

"You're welcome, Darling." Mistress laid the girl back down and tied her mask into place again. The girl heard the audience burst into applause again, loud and long. She panicked at the thought that Mistress might leave now that she had finished hurting the girl.

"Mistress!"

"Yes, Darling?"

"Please . . . may I . . ." The girl could not force herself to dare anything further. She wanted to beg Mistress for a kiss, but that felt too presumptuous.

"Hmm. Brave enough to take the lash without safe-wording, but not brave enough to ask. One of two things, I'd guess. If you want a kiss, Darling, the answer is no. If you want to please me with something besides your suffering, I'll permit it."

"Yes, please, thank you Mistress!" The girl felt a sense of awe and gratitude. She heard the rustle of silk, then felt Mistress's dress fall over her face. The girl reached up with her hands and felt her way up Mistress's legs like a blind man trembling to trace the face of God. She pulled Mistress's underwear to the side and raised her head, worshipping Mistress with her lips and tongue. It was similar to the way she had worshipped the nameless cock before, in the same way that Salieri was similar to Mozart. The girl loved Mistress Avalea, and she poured her heart and soul into what she did. Her flesh was still on fire with pain and angle hurt her neck, but the girl ignored all of that as she hungrily licked at Mistress.

When Mistress came, the girl was of course happy that she had pleased her, but the girl was also secretly proud. She had delighted Mistress's taste for cruelty by sacrificing her body, but it was her own hard earned skills that made Mistress's mind go blank and her legs shake, that made Mistress's composure fracture and made her cry out in front of an audience the same way the girl had. The girl would never admit this feeling of pride if anyone asked; it was something she would treasure in her heart in secret.

Afterwards, Mistress stepped away and was gone. The girl lay on her back, her nude body splayed before the crowd, her flesh burning in agony, Mistress's moisture drying on her cheeks. She felt blissfully empty and pure.

Then hands were at her ankles, freeing her legs, and the girl felt strong arms pick her up and cradle her against a man's chest. A familiar voice with a trace of a European accent asked "Did you keep your promise to me, Darling?"

"Yes Sir. I haven't come yet, I waited for you."

"Can you handle having sex right now? You're sort of a wreck, and while I don't mind hurting people, I know there's a limit."

The girl reached up and traced the man's face. He had a short beard, under a half-face mask that felt to her exploring fingers like a stylized sun with rays coming out of it. She grabbed the man's shoulder and pulled herself up, leaning into him and kissing him hungrily.

When she broke the kiss, she whispered in his ear. "I kept my promise, Sir. I'll be very disappointed if you don't keep yours."

The man laughed and laid the girl down on a divan. He kissed her, hard and deep, leaving her breathless, his weight pressing down on her tortured chest. The girl fumbled for his pants and pulled them open, sighing with pleasure as his hard cock filled her hands. The man grabbed the girl's hands and pinned them above her head, then pushed her legs open and entered her in one hard thrust. The girl cried out in pleasure as he filled her, the sweet agony almost more than she could bear.

The man had told her that he liked to fuck hard, and he had not lied. He hammered the girl's small body with his cock, slamming into her welted thighs. The butt plug hadn't been removed from the girl while Mistress was whipping her, and it moved within her as he pounded her, setting off another collection of nerve endings. It hurt in all the right ways. The girl wrapped her legs around him and urged him on with her heels. When she came, it was glorious. Two weeks of orgasm denial, hours of being naked and on display, Mistress's glorious torture - all of it found its release and the girl screamed in pleasure and came, then came again, and again, and again.

When he finally came inside the girl, adding a second load of cum to the one still inside her, the man with the accent moved to straddle the girl, forcing her to suck on him until he was hard again. Once he was hard, he put the girl on all fours and pulled the butt plug out, replacing it with his cock. The girl was still well-lubed and slightly stretched, but the plug had been very small in comparison with the man's cock, and he stretched her painfully as he filled her. The girl's whimpers of pain were silenced by a new cock that pushed its way into her mouth, and she groaned around it as she was filled from both ends.

She came again during this, of course. And many more times that night, as her body was used over and over. The two women who had promised to fuck her found her and did so, sharing her between them. Many more guests sought her out as well, wanting to take the girl they had watched scream so well under the whip. The girl could see nothing of the guests that took her and gave her orgasms, only feel their pussies, their cocks, their fists as they pressed into her mouth, her cunt, her ass. Nothing compared to how she had suffered for Mistress, but it was good in its own way.

The girl was passed out from an overload of sensation when her boyfriend found her at the end of the party, strapped to a St. Andrew's cross. Fresh welts covered her back and ass, and one of her red stockings had ripped. She was dripping cum out of her pussy and ass, and her face and mask were smeared with bodily fluids and the remains of her make-up. Her boyfriend took her down then picked her up gently and wrapped her in her coat before carrying her down to his car.

The girl woke up briefly as he was settling her into the passenger seat. "Are we going home?"

"Yes Darling. I told you that you would be sensational, and you were."

The girl smiled, half her face still hidden by the mask. "I know I was."