by John Savage
Take torment beyond words, the true meaning of bondage and pain, two beautiful young women, and sexual desires so powerful that conventional activities can never satisfy them, and you have all the ingredients for another John Savage novel.
Cindy Simone has a love of tight ropes and punishments extreme enough to make her weep bitter tears. With an unexpected huge inheritance, she is ready to explore the world in search of the ultimate in helplessness and pain, finding out what it’s like to be a professional submissive, giving her body over to strangers to tie and whip and spank and abuse as they please. With her equally beautiful friend nicknamed “Kinky”, she’s off to the legendary Toucher du Fouet in France, a private club devoted to connoisseurs in the erotic arts of B&D and S&M. Finally, she tracks down the ultimate, the mythical and mystical Convent of Esclavage, and Cindy does indeed learn a great deal about the meaning of pain – and more – within its ancient walls.
|For a few moments I wondered if he was going to continue tickling me, but in a position that would allow him access to parts of me that had been pretty well hidden before. Like my breasts, which he could easily uncover by unhooking my bra.
But the tickling was over for the night. Instead he flipped what looked like a light switch on the wall and I heard an electric motor start up. A second later, I realized that I was moving! Sideways, actually. The cross was revolving like a big wheel, carrying me along until my body was horizontal instead of vertical. Then it continued on, slowly bringing my head down near the floor until I was totally inverted. I wondered if he would stop it there, but he didn’t. At what I guessed was about one full turn every thirty seconds, I went around and around. The straps held me in place, even when fully inverted.
I did a couple dozen turns with him just standing there, watching me with no expression on his face beyond that stern look. I wasn’t getting dizzy, but it certainly was an odd feeling. Then he did it. He stopped the cross when I was exactly upside down. I looked up, wondering what was going to come next, and a little apprehensive. He was selecting a whip from the wall!
What I was most aware of was my spread open legs. True, I had a pair of panties on, but they were of no help when it came to protecting my most sensitive place. The thought of him coming down on that place with a whip was frightening. I think I whined a little.
He began by whipping my flanks. The whip, I discovered, was one of those rubber ones. It stung quite a bit, but didn’t produce the kind of pain that a leather whip would. He worked the strokes across my hips, occasionally catching a bit of my vulnerable pussy. I cried out with each stroke, putting in a little extra emphasis, and struggled against the straps every now and then. After he had reddened that area, he moved upward and began lashing my thighs, both the outsides and insides. It hurt, but, again, nothing I couldn’t handle. I was pretty sure that he was not hitting me anywhere as hard as he could have.
During a rest period, he reached behind me and unhooked my bra. With that garment off, I knew what was coming next. I begged and pleaded for him to spare my breasts, telling him that I was very sensitive there and it would hurt something terrible. Of course, he whipped my breasts anyway. It hurt, especially when the whip cracked against my nipples. I howled a few times in real pain. And I shook my chest so he would get a nice show. The pain was enough so that I didn’t have to fake the tears running up my face; they were real.
It must have been getting late in the session, because suddenly he left off beating my poor breasts and stood a stance directly in front of me. I swallowed hard when I saw his hand lift. It came down with a snap of his wrist and I yelled. The thin rubber strap landed squarely upon my pussy and it hurt! No need to fake any expression of pain; it was real. The frightened and frantic look in my eyes was also quite real. I begged him not to hit me there again.
He hit me between the legs a total of ten times. I was sobbing and trembling all over. My poor pussy was on fire, and throbbing. But I was saved by the bell. A tone sounded in the room and he lowered his arm, sparing me the eleventh stroke.