He pushed me up against the wall. The red light pulsated overhead in the dungeon. I felt some fear as he pressed his body up against mine and bit my neck. He had placed a marker under my chin, and if I moved and dropped the marker, I would be “hit really hard with the big wooden paddle.” Therefore, I stayed still, even though it was harder to maintain my breathing this way. I gasped, as he began a rhythm of smacking my ass, legs, and thighs in time with the hard beats of the music. He stopped and presumably went to his bag to pull out a toy. I was oblivious to it all, as I was facing the wall. I realized he had pulled out a whip, and I thought, Oh no, not now, this is too much so early on. The snap of the whip brought me out of my head, and I shuddered in pain when the tip of it struck me. Next, he relived me of the marker under my chin, and turned me around to face the dungeon. “we are going to play a game,” he said with a wicked smile. I am going to hit your cunt or your tits, and you are going to tell me to switch when you want me to hit the other. Ok, which do you want? The cunt or the tits?” I struggled to come up with an answer. “you took too long,’ He said, and began hitting my tits with the implement. The implement was both heavy and stingy on my breasts. He hit my nipples in time with the music. I winced, and began squirming in pain. “Switch,” I said breathlessly. “No,” he said. “say ‘hit my cunt’ ” “Hit my cunt, please, sir” I mustered. “Stick your cunt out,” he said. I obliged him and stuck out my pussy. He began to whip my cunt with the handle of the whip. I laughed, deliriously, already high in my pain. “oh, you like that, do you, cuntie?” “You like to have your cunt hit, huh?” “yes, sir” I stammered. With each smack to my pussy, he hit harder, until I said “hit my tits, please, sir.” He switched to my tits, until he decided to stop the game. But the scene wasn’t over yet. He turned me back around, and I nervously pressed up against the wall again. Then, I felt the rough wood of a large bamboo cane pressed between my legs. “you like that, cuntie?” he asked. “No, sir” I said, a bit unsure of whether I liked it or not. He began thumping the large wooden cane on my legs and ass. He hit me so hard, I gasped, unable to maintain the proper breathing necessary to process my pain. I slowed my brain down, and reminded myself to breathe deep, in and out, in and out. I hard a friend say something that made me laugh, and Sir said to the half-preoccupied audience, “You are distracting her.” Someone said, “she shouldn’t be paying attention to us,” and Sir said, “you are right.” “Cuntie, you pay attention to me, only.” Then he turned me around again and said, “Kneel.” I Kneeled in slave position, with my legs splayed open. “good, cuntie,” he said. “Now, look at them, and don’t let them distract you.” I was facing a guy and girl on the couch, and the girl was writhing in either pain, or ecstasy, but probably both. “Is that, hot, cuntie?” He asked. “Yes, sir.” Sir pulled out a thin cane and began snapping it repeatedly on my legs. I in whimpered my own pain, and arched my back, involuntarily trying to get away. Soon he had me giggling in pain again, mentally, flying high against reality. Then, he leaned down and whispered in my ear, “You are done. You are a good girl, cuntie. I love you.” He stood me up and said, “What do you need?” “A drink of water,” i replied. “Ok, but I want you to stay naked,” he said. “yes, sir.” Afterwards, in the car, I could feel the love in his fingertips, as he traced the marks on my upper thighs on the drive home. I felt spacey and high and sleepy. “you are so strong and brave,” he said. When we got home, I collapsed into bed, satisfied, relaxed, and happy.