Alice in Thunderland - Sex Stories

Alice in Thunderland

... Master.” And so it went. Swish, splat, scream, count. Swish, splat, scream, count. Swish, splat, scream, count. As the count passed eleven, Alice noticed that there was something different about the pain. At sixteen, she noted that her screams were now closer to moans and gasps. At twenty she realized that she was rocking her hips so that her ass rose to meet the paddle and so that the weights on her nipples were swinging in wide arcs beneath her. And then it was over. She lay sweaty and panting against the leather of the punishment bench. Someone was moaning, “More. More. Don’t stop. Don’t stop! I’m almost there.” It wasn’t until he said, “Do not worry, Alice. I will give you what you need,” that she realized that it was she who was saying those words. A soft hand caressed her flaming ass. Fingers slipped between her legs and made one teasing pass through her dripping slit. “One final thing for you to experience on this bench,” he said softly as he continued to stroke her asscheeks. “I am going to give you three strokes with the cane. They will hurt. Mmmmmm, they will hurt, but on the third stroke of the cane, all of the pain that you have received will suddenly turn to pleasure. That third stroke of the cane will be pain and pleasure working together to overwhelm your body, mind, and spirit.” “Are you ready?” he asked. Alice wanted to scream, “NO!!!” but instead she just clamped her mouth shut and said “mmmm” as she nodded her head up and down. The first stroke was ...

... immediate and Alice screamed louder than she had ever before screamed in her life. The second stroke soon followed and the scream turned hoarse and frantic. Then there was a pause. Alice’s ass was literally on fire. She could feel the two stripes which burned deep across her already inflamed asscheeks. There was a swish, a snap, an explosion of pain, and then Alice’s world disintegrated. It was as if her mind and body had shattered. Somehow the pain had become pleasure that tore through her as the most powerful orgasm she could imagine. As she pulled against the straps and bucked and writhed on the pads, she vaguely felt him release the nipple clamps and then felt the straps on her ankles and wrists being removed. She was floating in a cloud of pain and pleasure as he helped her to her feet and guided her across the room. By the time clarity had returned to her mind, her feet were firmly locked within the padded foot stock of the rack and her hands were above her head in the long wrist restraints. She could hear a light clicking noise. He was standing alongside the rack slowly turning a large iron wheel. “The true terror of the rack,” he said in a voice that sounded very much like the guide at the Tower of London. “... is not the pain, but the helplessness and the feeling of inevitability.” “You start off at the very beginning already trapped in the mechanism. That itself is fearful enough. But as the ropes or chains grow tighter, you can no longer even struggle. Your body reaches ...