“Isn’t she a picture?” He didn’t touch me, but he looked at every part of me. That’s when I understood, really understood, what it meant to belong to every man there. “Enjoy your visit, Juliet,” he said.
I felt Fort’s hand at my back, guiding me away from Devin toward the far end of The Gallery. “Thank you,” I murmured, and I didn’t know if I was replying to Devin, or to Fort’s possessive touch. “What was that about?” I asked, as soon as we were away from him.
“He doesn’t think you should be here,” Fort answered tightly. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s get you settled somewhere so I can get to work.”
Get to work, the work of hurting me, and probably fucking me. Across the room, the sub who’d been squealing through her whipping was now enthusiastically thrusting her hips against one of her tormentors’ cocks. The other man was rolling on a condom. There were sex noises everywhere, mixing with the pain noises in a heady soundtrack of lust.
Fort led me to a padded bench with an adjustable ‘V’ beneath it. He showed me where to place my legs against the ‘V’ so he could bind my thighs to it with leather straps. This part of the bench was adjustable, so the victim could be spanked with their legs together or pried open wide. He fixed my legs somewhere in the middle—wide enough to make me feel vulnerable, but not so wide that anyone who walked by could look up inside me.
The “uniform” I wore hid nothing, of course, not on me or any other woman there. It could hardly be called a garment, more like seductively placed bits of fabric and binding. When he bent me forward over the static part of the bench, my exposed nipples rested at either side of the narrow chest support. My torso wasn’t bound, but my hands were cuffed to short chains at my sides so I could only move so far.
I looked back at Fort in his formal tie and starched shirt. His belt was opened, his erection bulging against the front of his pants. No words were needed for this scene, although a few soothing words would have been welcome. The situation was enough. The bench, the cuffs, the leg-spreading ‘V,’ even my skimpy costume. He pulled the belt from his pants with a whooshing sound and doubled it over as I strained to peer over my shoulder.
“Eyes to the front,” he said.
I obeyed. A moment later, his belt thwacked against my ass, sounding louder and scarier than anything else in the room. I gave a strangled groan as the next blow fell, followed by another, then an entire volley of steady cracks. I didn’t want to cry out, didn’t want to bring attention to myself, but it was hard under his sustained assault.
The worst thing was that I knew this was only a warm-up, that he was only reddening my cheeks all over to prepare them for harder punishment. Something about the bench and the bondage made the belt feel way worse than it was.
I started to squirm, clenching my cheeks, tossing on the bench, but with my legs bound I couldn’t go anywhere, and with my hands bound, I could do nothing to shield myself from the continued belting. My fists clenched and unclenched until he finally stopped. Only then did I take stock of my body, of my feelings. I was hot. Aroused. Not shocking, considering my recent sexual history. My nipples seemed to wait to be hurt by him. My ass throbbed as if chanting for more, more, more…
He rubbed my lower back, a fleeting, comforting touch to ground me, then walked across the room to a row of cabinets. He opened one that was ostensibly his. I thought of high school lockers, even though these cabinets were dark, polished wood. I saw lube and a medium-sized butt plug, and clenched my ass in reaction. There was nothing like the feeling of watching your Dominant walk toward you with something like that in his hands.
I tried to relax as he pressed the tip to my hole, but even with lube, the plug stretched me. His progress was slow but inexorable, opening me millimeter by millimeter. I couldn’t stop the whine of discomfort as the widest part slid into my hole. When the plug was finally in, he eased it free again, adding more lube, fucking the plug in and out of my asshole so I couldn’t get too comfortable with the invasion.
“How does it feel to get fucked with this plug?” he asked.
“It feels bad, Sir,” I said hoarsely.
“It’s not even close to the size of my cock. When I fuck your ass later, it’s going to hurt a lot more.”
What could I say to that? I moaned and raised my head to look around the room, saw some men watching me, some other subs checking me out even in the midst of their sadistic scenes. You’re in The Gallery. You are submissive flesh on display for the pleasure of these wealthy, perverted men. The wealthy, perverted man behind me withdrew the plug until the broadest part was clenched within my sphincter, and held it there.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, rocking the plug a tiny amount. “Should we try something else?”
“I don’t know.” The “something else” would undoubtedly feel just as bad, or worse, than what he was doing to me now. With a chuckle, he slid the plug home again, allowing my tight ring some respite as it closed around the narrower base.
“Are you still tied down tight?” he asked me. “Your arms and legs are okay?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Let’s make a few marks on your ass before we move to another area. A rattan cane should do the trick. It’ll feel similar to the dowel I used on you. Perhaps a little more painful.”
I turned to look at him with dread. The dowel had been utter hell, so I wasn’t sure I could handle something more painful. He took a cane from a rack on the wall and I started shaking, squeezing on the hard toy buried between my ass cheeks. “I don’t know… Sir… I don’t know if I can…”
“You can. I wouldn’t do it to you if you couldn’t take it. There’s nothing worse than a whiny little maso who says I can’t, I can’t.” He moved his arm, and brought the cane down—thwack—across the middle of my cheeks.
And despite what he’d just said to me, I yelled “I can’t!” twice more in my most piteous, desperate voice. The cane’s sting roared along my nerve endings, lighting them on fire. He paused and rubbed the single welt.
“You can, Juliet,” he said. “Really, you don’t have any choice. I won’t give you more than you can bear.”
But one stroke already seemed more than I could bear. The second stroke was as awful as the first, a harrowing impact followed by a bloom of fiery torment. I tried to kick my legs but they were bound, tried to free my hands but the cuffs wouldn’t even let me bend my arms. I squealed and held myself taut as another stroke fell. On the fourth stroke, I started begging, sobbing, blubbering words that made no sense. “Please, please, I can’t, it hurts, I want you to, I want you to stop…”
“I know it hurts,” he said, rubbing my ass. “That’s why you’re here, to be hurt.”
I sensed more than heard another person approach our scene space. Hands smoothed over my clenching, twitching ass, and I could tell they weren’t Fort’s hands. When I turned, I saw Devin standing to the side of me, his thick, flaccid cock lolling from the fly of his pants.
“Those are some beautiful lines,” he said to Fort.
“Thank you.”
“She’s tougher than I thought. Maybe she is Gallery material.”
Devin’s unwelcome fingers traced over the freshest cane welt, making it throb anew, but Fort did nothing to arrest his friend’s careless groping. No, my Dominant was sharing me, letting other men touch me. I knew it was part of the deal for this place, but it didn’t make it any easier for me to get used to. I wondered if it was a rule he put up with, or if sharing his partners was something he preferred.
“Look at this ass,” Devin said, squeezing my cheeks, then spanking them hard enough to make me gasp. “I haven’t seen an ass this round and perfect in ages.” Devin’s grasping fingers parted my ass cheeks, pausing, holding them open. Pure, devastating humiliation. A thumb brushed over my sodden, swollen clit, too forcefully to feel good. “Horny little thing,” he said. His lewd chuckle attenuated to a growl. “Let me take her ass, Fort.”
“No. She’s plugged right now.”
/> “I’ll take it out.”
His finger left my clit and twisted the plug in my ass, at the same time he thumbed my sensitive welts. The pain these men dealt was unending, yet so capricious on their part. The tears from Fort’s caning spilled over again, harder than ever. I trembled in dread as Devin held my cheeks open and nudged at the plug.
“You want a big, fat cock in your ass, little maso?” he asked. “I’d probably split you open. Maybe you’d like that.”
I shook my head and whimpered, unable to summon words. I felt Fort push Devin’s hand away. “Why don’t you fuck your own sub’s ass instead of trolling the newbie?” he asked, a curt denial of his friend’s request.
“None of my subs can act as distraught as this one. She’s so…unconventional.” Devin was in front of me then, kneeling down to look in my eyes even though he addressed Fort. He wasn’t seeing me, just a bound sex object. “At least let me take her mouth while you’re making her cry.”
“Not today. Not right now.”
Devin stared at me as I choked back a sob. “Ah, this is hard for you,” he said in a soft voice. “Fort’s really hurting you, isn’t he? This isn’t Underworld, dear, or some kinky art show. It’s real fetish, real sadism.”
“Can I continue?” asked Fort. “If you’re done flirting with my sub?”
“By all means, continue. I’d like to watch.”
Fort drew back the cane, painting my ass with another fiery line. I was crying too hard to summon a scream. Devin studied me, his lips curled in a faint smile.
“Do you want him to stop?” my blond tormentor asked. “Should I tell him to stop?”