Warning: This is a bit edgy

This was inspired by two R/L people: well, on television anyway, but in the event it should remind you of the documentary in question, I stress that this is pure fiction.

750 Words

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Playing the Pain Game

Why do I do this? Isn't it enough that I make a living at it, at the shows and the play parties, being the naughty schoolgirl, the errant secretary, the lazy nurse? Isn't it enough that I drop my panties, jiggle my bottom while it's smacked, strapped or caned in front of a lusting, eager audience, some of whom might get to join in?

No it isn't. It's carefully staged, carefully limited....don't damage the goods...are you OK with this....don't forget to look shocked when the cane is waved under your nose...theatre, just theatre.

*She* doesn't care. No, that's not right - she does care. They just want to spank a woman, cane a bottom... she wants to hurt me.

I've got a safeword: use it, don't use it, it's my choice. But until I chicken out my feelings are not a factor in the equation. And paying for it? That's just the sauce on my dish of humiliation.

I know the score, how the payment is dealt with discretely, at the front desk in the bigger establishments like this: to the maid afterwards or with a ..."shall we just get that out of the way", with the freelancers. But she... she makes me count it out in front of her - nothing bigger than a $5 bill - and hand it over, respectfully, for her to accept with an amused little cold smile, and toss on the table, paying her to hurt me, please.

She makes me wait a while, self conscious in my bra and knickers, while other women, other Dommes and staff come in and out, and she chats about this and that: and I stand there, waiting for her to find the time to make me cry.

Bent over the padded bench - nice fabric, class, no tacky black leather, I can hear her trying out the canes: rattan, carbon-fibre - the whole range is available - and discussing them with ..with another Domme who's at a loose end and just wandered in to watch. I don't get any say in it.

"Pass me that one there: it looks as if it's got more whip in it.."

I've already got several marks where she's tried out some and I can hear the sound of her testing the feel of another. I cry out faintly as she tests it for real.

"Yes, that handles better..."

Ohhh..that hurts..and hurts... I know there will be angry looking welts erupting on my skin and a tear squeezes out and oozes down my cheek.

"Open her up, I want to cut inside her thighs."

Meat, flesh without feelings. I keep my eyes closed and feel the other woman come over and pull my legs apart. Just an arrangement, like a flower in a vase, or food on a plate.

I open my eyes to see my own knuckles are white from gripping the bench as she whips the cane in between my legs, so high up I can feel the tip flick at the curls of my hairs a moment before the pain explodes on my leg. She knows I wear garters, and she knows how the stocking tops and clips will make me aware of these welts every second.
I'm sobbing quietly and the Word is bubbling up, just one more stroke away. But she stops. Does she know? Know that she can make me cry a little longer if she pauses? I can feel her probing me with her fingers. Not a gentle touch, but a rough 'is she open, is she secretly lusting for it?' violation. I can hear her small snort of amusement as I exclaim at the discomfort: and then I cry out as she takes a pinch of bruised and welted flesh from the inside of my thigh and squeezes it as hard as she can.

"Give me that heavy cane, she can take some more..."

I can. I do, though I howl and cry and shake and moan and eventually the Word comes sobbing and coughing up.

"Get dressed and fix your make up" she tells me curtly.

And I then I'm finished, done, wrung out.

She beckons me over and looks me straight in the eye. The slap comes out of the blue, sets my pulse racing, but my reflexes betray my inner soul and before I have formed a thought I find myself looking submissively at the floor.

"You can get out now," she says dismissively.

"Thank you, thank you, Mistress, " I reply.

For the first time, she smiles..........

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