As the lights in the arena dimmed to blackness, a small spotlight became visible in the center of the circular stage. Soft murmurings from the crowd could be heard as a solitary figure dressed in a black, sequined evening dress walked elegantly across the stage and moved into that narrow shaft of light. She turned slowly as though surveying the crowd which surrounded her, even though all faces were now hidden in the darkness.
As the spotlight which enveloped her came slowly to full brightness, she clasped her hands lightly in front of herself, and in a somber tone addressed the gathering, “Masters and Mistresses.., Dommes and Masseurs…, we have been most foully betrayed.”
Her words were met with a buzz of voices in the darkness. She paused until the crowd quieted once again. “We have been betrayed by one within our own inner circle… one who, to protect themselves, agreed to help bring down this ancient society which we each have come to love and to serve as it loves and serves us.”
She smiled as she stood quietly in the center of the stage. The glare of the spotlight reflected off her perfectly white teeth. She sighed and then laughed softly. Her laugh sounded more like an expression of relief rather than of joy. After a deep breath, she continued, “Fortunately for us, the founders of many generations ago and the guardians of today erected and have maintain barriers against such betrayal. There are security measures beyond your imagination which prevent such deceit. No one is above these measures. Even I, your Grand Mistress, am watched carefully for the good of The Society.”
She began to walk slowly around the circular stage looking out into the darkness as though she could see each and every person there and was addressing them personally. “This society was formed many generations ago in England with twenty Masters and Mistresses. As The Society grew, the original twenty decided to limit membership to help maintain secrecy. The number of Masters and Mistresses worldwide has remained at 300 to this day. The number of slaves has never been counted. Slaves, after all, don’t deserve to be counted.”
She paused to let her words sink in, and then strode quickly back to the very center of the stage. “The Society has associates. We have friends who share our interest and benefit from our power and control, but in all the world there are only 300 true members of The Society. Following the tradition of the founders, twenty of those members form The Inner Circle which governs us. As much as it pains me to say this, it was from within that inner circle that this traitor arose.”
She held up a folded piece of very stiff paper. “300 very special invitations went out worldwide for this annual gathering of our membership. You are an elite group. Only full members of The Society can attend this annual slave auction and celebration. Only full members of The Society even know when and where we are to meet. Twenty complete agendas and plans were also distributed to The Inner Circle.”
The Grand Mistress held her hand to her head and paused as she apparently listened to something being said to her in a small earpiece that was barely visible in her left ear. She smiled briefly and continued, “299 of those invitations were identical. Nineteen of those full agendas were true and correct. One invitation was false. One agenda and planning report was a fake. I call your attention to the screens above the stage. I think you will all find this very interesting.”
A ring of six huge screens arranged to be visible throughout the arena came to life above the Grand Mistress. The picture was slightly blurred and very shadowed. The audio was but a jumbled series of quick reports. “Team one in place.” “Team seven ready.” “Team six in place.” “Team five awaiting orders.”
Then a loud voice said, “Go, go, go! All teams Go!”
Suddenly the screen was bright with vivid images. It was apparent from the rapid movement and rapidly changing scenes that this was a feed from a helmet cam of some sort and that a raid was taking place. Police officers and agents in bright blue vests with FBI on the front and back were running into an arena very similar to the one in which the Grand Mistress now stood. SWAT teams clothed in black and wearing heavy body armor ran alongside them.
The loud voice spat out, “What the hell!” Several voices shouted at once and then the loud voice yelled, “Everyone quiet! Tach Team One, tell me what the hell is going on!”
A soft, but disgusted voice came back, “We’ve been had. Our informant said that at least one hundred bitches and studs would be auctioned off tonight. She was right, but this is a god-damned dog show and these bitches are female breeding dogs.”
Voices slightly away from the speaker’s microphone could be heard, but not understood. The voice continued, “It’s an accredited dog breeders organization. The president of the group said that they normally held their event at the fair grounds, but a very generous, anonymous donor has arranged for them to have this facility each year for the next ten years. They got all the proper permits months ago. It’s all legal. They even filed the appropriate change of location forms last week.”
“Damn!” replied the loud voice. “We were set up. You’d better make sure that we get that informant into witness protection tonight. She is the only lead we had into The Society. If they haven’t gotten her, maybe she can still give us useful information.”
The screens went dark. Another spotlight, this one very bright, suddenly illuminated a young, red-haired woman sitting in the front row. She was attempting to get up out of her seat, but two burly gentlemen standing behind her were holding her down.
The Grand Mistress raised the microphone to her mouth and said quietly, “I think you have figured out who had the false information, haven’t you Mistress Jane? Perhaps you now understand why I insisted that the entire inner circle arrive in special limousines. The windows were very dark, weren’t they? And since your limousine dropped you off inside, you never realized that we weren’t where you thought we would be, did you?” She paused and then said curtly, “Bring her here.”
Mistress Jane struggled against the grip of the two men, but they were well muscled and well trained and she didn’t have a chance to escape. As they brought her to the center of the stage, two cables descended from the darkness. A heavy, black, steel I-beam hung between the cables. Near the ends of the beam hung two short chains with leather restrains attached to them.
Two additional guards joined the first two as they stepped beneath the beam. While the first two guards held Jane firmly in their grip, the other two stretched out her arms and pulled her hands up to the leather restraints which they wrapped tightly around her wrist and forearms. The cables then ascended slightly into the air until Jane was pulled onto her tiptoes and beyond. Her shoes fell from her feet as she danced in the air, trying to reach the floor.
“You can’t do this,” she screamed. “They will know that you have me. They will find me and they will take you down.”
“No ‘they’ won’t,” answered the Grand Mistress calmly. “We have known of your treachery for some time now. We know that in return for your betrayal, ‘they’ have made arrangements for you to go into witness protection. After tonight, your identity was to be changed. After tonight, you were to start a new life.”
She paused to walk directly over in front of Jane and spoke in a terse, even voice, “That is exactly what is going to happen. The Society will take you into our ‘Witness Protection Program.’ We will protect ourselves from you so that you can never be a witness against us.”
She clapped her hands and said, “Video!”
Again the screens came to life, and again they were showing helmet cam feeds from somewhere. A voice was giving a report. “She was trying to get away from someone. Whoever it was clipped her car as she was going across the river and drove it over the side rail on the bridge. I’m amazed she survived the drop. The medics says she doesn’t seem to be injured, but is very confused and disoriented. They think there might be some head injuries and loss of memory.”
The Grand Mistress continued, “As you can see, ‘they’ think that they have just rescued you from the river. ‘They’ think they have saved you from the vengeance of The Society. ‘They’ will watch you recover, but as you recover, ‘they’ will realize that you don’t seem to be able to remember much of anything – especially about The Society. In a few months, you will decide you no longer want to be in ‘their’ Witness Protection Program and will disappear. And ‘they’ won’t care… … because after you lost your memory of everything you knew about The Society you became useless to them.”
The Grand Mistress looked directly into Jane’s eyes as she continued, “The planning for all this took a great deal of my time. A skilled stunt team to set up that accident was very expensive. Finding someone who can pass for you was not easy. And sufficiently rewarding her so that she will remain quiet forever is not cheap. You have caused us many problems and owe us a great deal, FORMER Mistress Jane.”
Jane began to cry and beg. “Please don’t do this. Please don’t do this. I had to do it. I had to do it.” She was speaking rapidly. “They had proof of tax fraud and embezzlement at my business, and they even said that they could prove that I had tried to kill my ex-boyfriend when he threatened to go to the police.”
She choked back several short sobs before continuing, “I didn’t do that. I was only trying to scare him. I wouldn’t have hurt him, but they said they could make it sound like I intended to kill him. I was going to go to jail for a long time unless I cooperated with them.”
The Grand Mistress frowned as she set her hands on Jane’s hip to stop her swaying. Jane gave a final trembling sob and hung limply in her bonds. Her head was now down in defeat and humiliation.
“Jane…, Jane…, Jane, you were a part of The Inner Circle. True, you were a recent addition. … … And true, your inclusion was mainly because of the power and influence of your late father, whose business you have run into the ground, but as a part of that circle, you saw The Society’s power and influence. We could have helped you…. we could have protected you…. we could have saved you… if you had just acted like a true Mistress.”
“If you had confessed your crimes to The Inner Circle, we would have protected you from ‘them.’ You would have lost your place on the inner council. And there would have been punishment. But there also would have been guidance, and Mistress Jane would have eventually been returned to full status among us. You did not do that because at the very core of your being you are not a true Mistress…. You never were!”
Those last few words were nearly spat out of the Grand Mistresses mouth. She clapped her hands sharply together and two black-clothed security guards ran onto the stage carrying another black I-beam. The ease at which they carried it and the high pitched clink when they set it on the floor at Jane’s feet indicated that, despite its appearance, it was a very light-weight metal, or perhaps even a modern plastic composite. Two very short chains with leather restraints were attached near each end of the beam.
The cables holding Jane in the air lowered slightly as the guards each grabbed a leg and pulled it outward toward the ends of the beam and wrapped the restraint around her ankles. The cables then raised once again until Jane was pulled taut and the beam rose to just off the floor.
The Grand Mistress again clapped her hands and two females in tight fitting, skimpy black dresses ran onto the stage. It was obvious that there was nothing under the dresses but them.
“I think you recognize your slaves Trixie and Dixie?” asked The Grand Mistress. “They know that you were abandoning them. How do you think they feel that you didn’t even make arrangements for their safekeeping? You didn’t even put them up for auction tonight to a new, and more deserving, Master or Domme.”
She gave a swift, curt nod of her head and both slaves raised their hands to reveal that each was carrying a pair of scissors. Trixie started at the bottom of the dress on Jane’s left and Dixie started at the bottom on her right and they began cutting upward through the expensive material. Soon, two flaps of black cloth were hanging from Jane’s shoulders. Simultaneous snips from Trixie and Dixie and the strips of cloth fluttered to the ground leaving Jane clad only in her dark blue satin panties with matching bra and a pair of thigh-high dark stockings. Again Trixie and Dixie timed their cuts so that the bra and then the panties fluttered to the ground. They gathered up the scraps of cloth and scampered off stage.
Jane blushed red with embarrassment and shame. She could hear the buzz of voices in the crowd and knew they were commenting on her body. In one of those sudden gaps of silence that often occurs in such murmuring, she clearly heard one voice say, “Look at that cute little ass. I wish my butt was that tight.”
Additional redness flared across her skin, but this time it was accompanied by a twinge between her legs and a stiffening of her nipples. Her face showed shock and alarm as she thought to herself, “Am I getting turned on by this?”
Jane had always been very proud of her body and spent a great deal of time and money to keep herself perfectly in shape. But that had always been to show her superiority, not so that her body could be displayed for the enjoyment of others.
Another dip in the noise level allowed her to hear, “Such a flat stomach and such good muscle tone in those legs. I wouldn’t mind owning that.”
Her nipples stiffened further and a coolness between her legs told her that moisture was beginning to seep through her pussy lips. “Nooooo,” she said aloud as she realized that her body was responding to the idea of being owned. She looked down into the face of The Grand Mistress and could see that she was looking at her nipples and then down to her glistening cunt. When The Grand Mistresses eyes again looked up at Jane, there was a big smile on her face.
“No, no, no, no, nooooooooo,” whimpered Jane.
The Grand Mistresses responded with a laugh and said, “I believe we need the assistance of security once again.”
Two guards ran onto the stage. One guard released the restraint from Jane’s leg and the other rolled the stocking down and off of her foot. The restraint was then restored. An additional piece of strapping was then wrapped several times around the beam so that Jane’s foot was held firmly to the top of the beam. The effect was to turn her leg slightly and further open her stance and prevent her from closing her legs. They repeated the same procedure on the other leg so that Jane was now hanging totally spread-eagled and naked. Her body, glistening with perspiration from fear, shook with her sobs as she cried silently. The guards pocketed the stockings and walked off stage.
The Grand Mistress addressed her. “You took great pride in calling yourself ‘The Redheaded Mistress.’ I have seen you naked many times before as you used almost any excuse to prove that you were a natural redhead. Your red hair is a part of your identity… or should I say, your former identity.”
She clapped her hands and Trixie and Dixie again appeared. This time they were each carrying some form of hair clippers. Trixie began buzzing Jane’s head while Dixie worked on the bronze thatch between Jane’s legs. After a few moments, they gathered up the hair from the floor and once again scampered off stage.
They returned a few moments later each carrying a green can of shaving cream. They sprayed generous amounts of foam into their hands and began applying it to Jane’s entire body. Dixie rubbed thick layers of it onto Jane’s breasts. Trixie took special delight in working it into Jane’s cunt and ass. Soon Jane was totally encased except for her eyes.
“That is menthol shaving cream,” The Grand Mistress explained to the audience. “On the tough skin of a man’s face, it feels cooling. On the tender skin of a woman’s body, it starts out feeling cool, but soon begins to burn in an icy sort of way.”
She clapped her hands again and the two slaves left the stage. “Now we need the expertise of a master barber. Jane, I think you know enough to remain perfectly still.”
Jane, however, was not remaining still. In fact she was struggling wildly against her bonds as the menthol created its icy burning sensation between her legs. When the barber stood in front of her and opened his straight razor, however, she suddenly held very still.
He started at both ends and worked toward the middle. The red stubble on her head was soon gone, as were her eyebrows. The barber worked very carefully removing all shaving cream from her body with the razor whether there was any hair apparent in that area or not. Soon the only area still covered with the white foam was between her legs.
Standing behind her, the barber held her asscheeks open with one hand while he deftly swiped across her rosebud with the razor held in the other hand. Then, moving to her front, he held her skin taut as he scrapped the remaining reddish copper shadow from the folds of her cleft. Finally, he pulled a white towel from his pocket, wiped her body of any minor traces of foam, and left the stage.
Trixie and Dixie reappeared. Now they were wearing clear plastic face protectors and were covered from head to toe in what appeared to be blue, medical hazmat suits. Each held a small bucket and a sponge in their hands.
“Close your eyes and hold them tightly shut,” commanded The Grand Mistress.
Shaking slightly in fear, Jane did so and the two slaves began wiping down her body with a foul smelling, slightly green liquid that burned almost immediately as it touched her skin. Soon, she was whimpering in pain and quivering in her bonds.
“The burning only lasts a few moments,” observed The Grand Mistress. “Once the hair follicle is dead, the pain goes away.”
Jane stopped whimpering and began thrashing against her bonds.
“You will only hurt yourself,” said The Grand Mistress. She sounded like a mother talking to a small child, or perhaps more like a Mistress talking to a new slave.
Trixie and Dixie returned. Now they were carrying larger buckets and sponges. They rinsed off the green liquid leaving Jane wet, shiny and now totally and permanently hairless. After using large towels to clean the floor beneath her, they again left the stage.
“This I will do myself,” announced The Grand Mistress and a security guard raced up to her and handed her something that looked like a large flashlight with what appeared to be a vacuum cleaner attachment on the end of it.
“This is a laser branding device,” she explained. “It can be programmed to burn a specific word or pattern into the skin.”
She held it against Jane’s belly, just above her pubic bone. Jane screamed and attempted to pull away, but the chains held her taut. After a few moments, there was a soft beep and a small light on the side of the device changed from red to green.
“Let’s see what we have, shall we?” asked The Grand Mistress.
When she pulled the unit away from Jane’s skin, a brand was visible. In large ornate letters, it said clearly, “witness.”
“Mistress Jane is gone,” began The Grand Mistress, “… never to be seen again. Slave witness, you have betrayed 300 people, including the woman who was once Mistress Jane. I decree that as your punishment, you will receive one lash for each person whom you have betrayed.”
Jane, now slave witness looked mutely at her as though in shock. She continued, “Normally, I would then make you the first slave to be sold at auction tonight, but there are special circumstances. So instead, you are being given as a gift to the associate who provided us with such interesting videos of this evening’s activities. He also is the one who first informed us of your treachery. He was supposed to be part of your protection detail. He was ordered to guarantee that you got safely into Witness Protection.”
She laughed softly and turned to address the audience. “He has assured me that he will keep us protected from witness and will keep witness protected from us and from herself from now on. So he has fulfilled his duty. She will be in Witness Protection.”
The screens above the stage again came to life as a hooded figure in black leather came onto the stage. He was carrying a large whip made of what appeared to be very soft, braided leather. The screens showed a closeup of his hooded face. His pale blue eyes looked almost slate grey against the black of the mask he wore.
In a heavy Germanic accent, he told witness and the crowd. “”I am an expert. You will feel each and every lash, but even after 299 strokes I will not have broken the skin. Your body will be bruised to the bone, but the skin will not be broken.”
He brushed the coiled whip slowly down the front of slave witness’s body. “The 300th lash, however, I will apply differently. I want it to cut and to mark. It will be from the right side, directly across the center of your ass. It will cut deeply into the skin… and to insure that you scar, I will pour lemon juice and salt into the wound. That is the way that I sign my work. You will carry my signature forever. You will never be able to forget that, tonight, you have been whipped by an artist.”
The screens now showed a split-screen closeup of witness’s face and back. The lash uncoiled and struck with a loud “pop.” Slave witness screamed. Trixie and Dixie, standing at the edge of the stage in front of a microphone, counted, “One.”
A punishment flogging is rather a mundane and predictable event, but it can still be somewhat interesting, especially in the case of a new slave. The first dozen or so strokes are more shock than pain, especially if the slave’s body responds sexually to the pain.
After about ten strokes, most of the audience could tell that witness was, indeed, responding sexually to the pain. Her cries sounded almost more like cries of confusion rather than pain – like she could not understand why her body was doing this. By the thirtieth stroke, it was obvious to everyone that witness was feeling the pain as sexual stimulation. The pitch and tone of her cries as well as the way that her cunt glistened in the spotlights made it very clear that she was a pain slut.
Somewhere around seventy strokes, witness had her first orgasm. She could feel it building in her body and tried to hold it back. The shame of being publicly driven to orgasm by a flogging was almost too much for her to bear. As the orgasm approached, she began crying “No, no, no.” The crowd could hear her as she wailed, “This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.”
The German wielding the whip could also hear her and could clearly see her state of intense arousal. As she approached her peak, he moved so that he was directly behind her, and landed blows to the sides of her rib cage that caused the whip to snake around to her front and flick her engorged nipples. Her shrill screams of pain were followed immediately by a deep “aaaaagh” as her body began to overwhelm her mind. Then, at just the right moment, the whip master swung upward so that the whip went between her tightly stretched legs. It popped loudly as it slammed into her pussy lips and her eyes and mouth opened to their fullest as she screamed out in pain… and then in orgasm.
The whip master paused while witness thrashed violently in an extremely strong extended orgasm. The whistles and applause heaped additional shame upon the struggling slave, but to her amazement, that shame heightened, rather than diminished the intensity of her feelings.
As soon as her thrashing slowed, the flogging resumed. Now the pain was more pain than arousal, but beneath the pain was still an intense sexual stimulation. Trixie and Dixie had just counted one hundred and fifty-three when witness could be heard yelling, “No, no, not again. I can’t stand it. I can’t stand it.”
This time, the whip master ignored her sexual response and continued carefully moving his lashes up and down her body so that she had almost continuous whip marks from wrist to ankle. Somewhere around two hundred, she again thrashed in orgasm. After that she hung limp in her bonds whimpering with each blow of the lash.
Finally the counting of the two slaves reached two hundred and ninety-nine. The whip master stopped for twenty or thirty seconds, and then snapped his whip loudly several times as if clearing it or limbering it. Very carefully and deliberately, he stepped to slave witnesses right side and, after swinging the whip softly back and forth several times, snapped it loudly against her asscheeks.
Witnesses eyes flew open and a new scream came from her mouth. She was well beyond sexual stimulation. This was a scream of pure pain. The scream became louder and even more shrill as the hooded whip master then stepped forward with a small bottle and slowly poured it across the bleeding welt. Three times he dribbled the yellow mixture of lemon juice and salt across her wound. On the third time, her head slumped forward, and she passed out.
The whip master and the two slaves Trixie and Dixie left the stage and the Grand Mistress returned to the spotlight. “Slave witness will remain here suspended above the stage for the remainder of the evening that all may know what awaits those who would betray The Society.”
With that, two pairs of security guards came running onto the stage carrying additional small I- beams. These long, thin beams somehow connected the upper and lower beams so that as the cables holding witness pulled her upward she would be, in fact, standing on the lower I-beam. With several loud clicks everything locked into place, and the now complete picture frame displaying witnesses bruised and swollen body continued upward until it was slightly above the ring of video screens above the stage. As she hung there above the stage, two medium intensity spotlights illuminated her so that she was visible from any place in the arena.
As the guards walked off into the darkness, Trixie and Dixie returned with large towels and began cleaning the stage floor. Members of the audience began rummaging in their belongings for their auction lists and their bidding number cards, but The Grand Mistress stopped them with, “Before we begin our auction, there is one more item of business related to this betrayal.”
She stood and waited for the buzz of voices to subside before continuing. “None of this would have happened if I had not allowed myself to be persuaded by the traitor’s father to put her on the inner council. I knew that was the wrong decision. I knew that she was more slave than Mistress, but I was weak and allowed her father to overrule me. I did not fulfill my duties as Grand Mistress and do what was best for The Inner Circle and The Society. The fault was mine and I have confessed this grievous error to The Inner Circle.”
Another burst of murmuring forced the Grand Mistress to wait for a moment before continuing. “It has been decided that I will remain on The Inner Circle, but will give up my position as Grand Mistress. The Inner Circle has elected Master Tyrone to succeed me as Grand Master.”
Again the Grand Mistress had to wait for the noise of the crowd to abate before she could finish speaking. “My last act as your Grand Mistress is to decree the punishment for my failure. I decree that the one who failed the twenty members of The Inner Circle shall receive twenty lashes from the whip master. She shall be shorn and displayed naked and hairless like a common slave for the rest of this evening.”
This time the buzz from the crowd droned on until The Grand Mistress held up her hand and signaled for silence. “I shall accept my punishment properly, that you may see that I am a true Mistress. I will bear Herr Peitschemaster’s mark from now on to remind me, and any who see me, that even a Grand Mistress is accountable for her mistakes.”
Another set of cables lowered from the ceiling on the opposite side of the stage from where witness was hanging. The Grand Mistress walked over, stepped out of her high heels, and stood beneath them. Two security guards hurried onto the stage and pulled her arms apart and fastened them to the restraints. The beam then rose slightly into the air.
Two more security guards ran onto the stage carrying another of the light-weight spreader I- beams. They spread her legs and bound her feet with the restraints, fixing her feet firmly to the beam as they had done Jane’s. Then Trixie and Dixie returned to the stage with their scissors.
The Grand Mistress had prepared herself. When the black, sequined gown fluttered to the ground, there was nothing beneath it. Her body was not as slender as the much younger slave witness, but it was very well toned, and the light brown hair between her legs was neatly trimmed into a small triangle.
The two slaves scampered off stage and returned with their clippers. The Grand Mistress hung stoically as they buzzed the hair off her head and from between her legs. She continued to remain motionless as they slathered the menthol shaving cream across her skin. Her only response was a slight grimace when Trixie forced a large handful of the cream into her cunt.
The barber came back on stage and completed the depilation. After he had wiped any excess foam from her body, the whip master returned. Again the screens above the stage were split- screened with images of the Grand Mistresses face and ass.
Herr Peitschemaster drew back his whip and a loud “pop” echoed through the arena. “One,” said the Grand Mistress. Other than the count, no other words or sounds escaped her lips until after the twentieth lash when the whip master poured the lemon juice and salt mixture into the wound. Her sharp intake of breath through gritted teeth could be heard throughout the arena.
The whip master left the stage and a very handsome black man in his mid-forties walked onto the stage. He gave a hand signal and the security men connected the upright beams. Then the cables holding the former Grand Mistress raised her up to a position similar to slave witness. Spotlights came on to illuminate her so that she also could be seen throughout the arena.
Once she was in place, the house lights raised slightly so that the members of the audience were once again visible. Master Tyrone addressed the crowd. “Ladies and Gentlemen…, Masters and Mistresses…, Dommes and Masseurs…, slave kelly will remain a slave – my slave – until the hair on her head has regrown to the length of one inch. After that has occurred, Mistress Kelly will once again be a full member of The Society and of The Inner Circle and will be treated as such by everyone.”
He paused and looked around the arena at the crowd. “Failure to treat her as a slave during her period of punishment or failure to acknowledge her as a full Mistress once her punishment is ended will bring punishment upon yourself. Those are the rules, and, as you have seen very clearly tonight, no one in The Society is above the rules.”
With that, he pulled a sheaf of papers from an inner pocket, flexed his shoulders to settle his coat, and said loudly, “Now, we have some slaves to buy and sell. I declare this auction open. Bring out the first item.”
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