Contract For Cruelty - Sex Stories

Contract For Cruelty

As I hung, suspended from the ceiling by my wrist cuffs, I heard the click of high heels coming towards me. I managed to twist my nearly-naked body around and beheld Domme Zoe walking towards me, a vicious-looking bullwhip in her hand.

The instrument of torture was so lengthy that the bulk of it was dragging along the ground beside her; so substantial in weight that I could hear it scrape along the floor.

I was a first-time guest at the monthly mega-orgy taking place in the celebrated and splendid Monserrat Manor. At the tender age of twenty-one, this was a coming-of-age present to myself, an adventure and a stretching of my erotic comfort zone. I was fortunate to score an invitation to this exclusive party. My family has money and connections.

The Manor's servants had hung me in an open area at the end of a hallway on the third floor of the BDSM wing of the mansion. That level housed several guest suites dedicated to bondage; I could hear the muffled sounds of fucking and other perverted pleasures coming from the rooms that lined the corridor.

The professional European dominatrix approached slowly, letting me get a good, long look at her luscious body framed by a revealing black fetish outfit. I was mostly focused, though, on that damned instrument of agony. It was a bigger one than I had ever faced before.

More than I had anticipated.

And yet, my cock stirred to attention.

I took a little comfort in knowing that my genitals were protected from the ...

... whip by a padded jockstrap under a plastic athletic cup. That, however, was offset by the knowledge that Zoe certainly planned far more intimate and intensive tortures for my cock and balls later in the night, perhaps within the well-equipped "medical room" I had heard about down in the basement.

But first, I was to be flogged. I had once been whipped, timidly, by a past girlfriend who tolerated my kink for a short time, and moderately once, by a semi-professional hometown Domme. However, this would be more punishment than I had ever experienced, judging by the hefty tool Zoe had chosen.

(I didn't know the lady personally, but I knew her worldwide reputation and had seen her videos. The guidelines for this session, communicated via email, had pretty much been left open to her discretion.)

The gag that filled my mouth would muffle the bulk of the screaming that I would certainly emit in the next few minutes. Thus, the sound should not overly disturb the majority of guests in the mansion, but it would likely alert a nearby few that something fun was happening in the hallway.

It now occurred to me that several guests might interrupt their debauchery long enough to emerge from their rooms and witness my torture for their viewing pleasure.

My cock stiffened even more at the thought of an audience for my suffering.

Shit, they might even approach and play with me between strokes; that was entirely permissible under the loose "house rules" for sessions like this that ...