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There was a wide variety of tools on the table, all neatly laid out for her to easily recognize. Monique looked past the hole where the paddle had been and instead considered its compatriots. A flogger. A whip. A cat o’ nine tails. Monique pulled herself up until she was level with the table, the edge brushing against her nipples and making her gasp unexpectedly.

Her hand latched around the first thing it could grasp.

When she turned to crawl back, she found Helen sitting in a chair, her nonplussed demeanor blocking out the audience as she waited for Monique to return. She did so, wincing every time she moved her hips too much and her raw ass cried in pain.I can do this…In private, she may ask for a small break. Then again, Helen wouldn’t have struck her that hard in private.

As soon as she was by Helen’s side, Monique placed her next tool of punishment into her lap. “Here, Mistress,” she said. “Is this sufficient?”

Helen fingered the long handle in his reach. “Present yourself.”

Monique propped herself against Helen’s legs, aware that more than one person in the audience mumbled about what she held in her hand.“Is she insane?” “She really is a slut for pain.”Yet if Monique didn’t push herself in front of these people, she would never make enough money to free them both from Jacqueline Love.

There wasn’t enough energy to pull herself across Helen’s lap. With a grumble that she was more trouble than she was worth, she hoisted Monique across her lap, ass pointed up and her chest pointed toward the ground.

Helen pulled Monique’s hair, searching for the clunky silver leash beneath her curls. “Do you want me to do it?” She tugged on the clothes covering Monique’s ass, baring more of her pinkflesh for the feasting eyes around them. “Do you want me to spank you until you cry?”

Monique fought her attraction to the way she said those words.If we were alone, I’d cry for you right now.“Yes, Mistress.”

The cane hit her ass with the force of five men. She could not withhold the yelp of satisfied pain.

“Nobody heard you.” The cane tapped against her tender flesh, inoffensive, but present. “Say it louder. Beg for it.”

“Please!” Monique used every ounce of strength she had to project her meek voice into the void before her. She wanted it to echo like the sound of the cane hitting her ass. “Please give it to me, Mistress!”

Her prayers were answered when Helen smacked her. The snap of the cane was delicious even to Monique’s ears.

However, she was slipping. The adrenaline pumping through her – that fight or flight sensation that so many experienced – not only made her squirm involuntarily but began to shut down her brain’s ability to process pain. She was already slipping into that blissful subspace.

Damn her Domme who knew exactly what she liked and wanted.

“Please…” Her feeble words disappeared into the mess of hair surrounding her face. “One more.”

“Please what?”

“Please, Mistress!”

Hot, white sparks exploded before her eyes as Helen hit her one last time. Monique’s mouth was left gaping open, Helen’s fingers shoving themselves inside before anyone in the audience got any ideas.

This was the moment Monique would be most excited to experience at home. Her ass may be raw, but Helen would push her to the floor, holding her head down against the carpet asshe fucked her from behind. They enjoyed such a scene on their collaring honeymoon, with the French doors wide open and the ocean crashing against the beach only half a mile away.

There was no beach or sunshine now. No cool breeze kissing her skin. And Helen was definitely not going to climax anytime soon. She did, however, push Monique off her lap and onto the floor. She landed most unceremoniously, her body crumpling in a messed heap, yet no worse for wear. Helen pulled her up as she stood, leading her back to the hook and silk bindings hanging from the ceiling.

Before Monique opened her eyes and stared into the audience, Helen bent her head forward and clasped a hand over her eyes.What is she doing?Helen was going off-script. A blindfold took Monique’s face, preventing her from seeing how the audience reacted to the performance.What?They had decided to forego a blindfold so Monique could gauge how well they were doing. This completely defeated that purpose.Trust her, Monique. Trust your Domme.

So she stood, docile, her skin on fire as Helen finished tightening the blindfold around her head and ripped off her jacket. She wished she knew how the audience reacted to that. For beneath the jacket she wore her collaring corset, still painted, and still stained from the night Helen took her everywhere one could. Were people shifting in their seats, full of ideas and desire? Did they blanche at what it meant? Did they even understand? Surely, some did.

Monique disobeyed her Domme when she told her to keep quiet and proceeded to rip her cherished corset. Pitiful sounds crossed her lips.I already knew it was ruined, but…She had been surprised that Helen kept it after their collaring night. Now she knew why.

Her breasts spilled from her ripped bodice. Her thighs poured out of her torn seams. Even though everyone had seen hernaked parts before, they now saw her at her most vulnerable. Spanked, humiliated, and now denied one of her most precious senses. Low whistles echoed from the audience. Chatter filled the air. Concerned chatter. Did they think Helen was pushing her too far? Even when Monique’s ankles were forced apart and a spreader bar shackled to them, she didn’t fear what Helen had planned. This was part of the script, at least. Even the tap of the cane against her inner thighs – gentle yet ominous – was something she anticipated.

Yes, even the cold, hard clamps pinching her nipples were not surprising. Monique sucked her breath through her teeth, refusing to make another sound until her Domme allowed it. She was not a newbie. She may have been spanked and struck raw, but she was not the type of woman to cry out every time she felt an ounce of pain. She had been through hell before. This was nothing. With her arms raised above her head and her legs spread below, she had no choice but to accept the end of the cane wetting itself on her exposed nether lips. She wanted to moan. She wanted to tell the audience how good it felt to have that corporal toy now give her direct pleasure. “Let them know how much you like it,” Helen whispered into her ear – the rounded tip of the cane pushed into Monique’s wet folds.

A long, relieved moan filled the room as Monique was forced to take as much as she could. Although the cane couldn’t have been more than an inch in diameter, she felt full. The other end of the cane fell from Helen’s hand and smacked against Monique’s calf. Her kegels would have to do the job again. “If you drop that, you will not be allowed to come,” Helen said, loud enough for the audience to hear.

On one hand, the audience would want to watch her falter. They yearned to watch her come a lot more than that.

Helen grasped Monique’s hair and pulled her head to the side, kissing her throat as her hand rounded Monique’s abdomen andslipped between her thighs. Her clit throbbed at the attention paid to it. When Helen’s hand cupped one of her breasts, Monique nearly choked.

“Likewise,” Helen bellowed into her ear, “if you come too soon, that’ll be the end for you. Show these people what a good sub you are. No matter how much I push you, you won’t come. And I’ll reward you greatly if you fend off that demon scratching your loins.”