PUNISHMENT 120 – Part 1, the drive.

 

Della Domina settled back into the plush, luxury leather of the robot-driven Lincoln Town Car and flipped open the folder from her Gucci briefcase. In it she found details of the subject for the Punishment 120 episode she was to shoot for the huge-rating Sex Sinema Channel.

 

The channel had been in business for about six years ever since Congress and Senate, in a show of unanimity unheard of when men were running things, had agreed to allow the screening of raw sex on primetime television for the entertainment and delectation of women in the United States.

 

The unanimity was possible because under the latest change to the Constitution only women were allowed to run for Congress or the Senate. Men had finally – well, six years previously – been stripped of their right to run for political office or to vote.

 

Women had provided the President since that Clinton woman had won the race for the White House in 2008. That had been 69 years ago – an appropriate hiatus, Della thought – although soixante-neuf between men and women was now forbidden by law.

 

Men, of course, were not allowed access to any sex sites on the internet, or even the mildest of “skin” programs on television. The Sex Sinema channel was outlawed to them, except with the consent of their dominatrix-owners.

 

Della’s massively popular program, though, was often viewed by the male slaves – “cocksluts” as they were commonly known in 2077 – as a salutory reminder of what could befall them if they dared wander from the narrow path of male servility.

 

The change in the law had been a godsend for Della. Until 2070, she had been a very highly sought-after dominatrix in a Chicago house of perversion – well, that was what they were called when men ran things, and while some old habits die hard, they were still known by such names.

 

 

 

Men were never allowed into places like that now, unless it was to be used as “whipping boys” by the likes of Della or her highly-paid associates. Della’s main occupation was as a dominatrix to “boss” around the ladies who enjoyed being made to submit from time to time.

 

Most of those ladies were owners of cocksluts, but every now and again they craved the attentions of Della, her whip, her intruders – anal and vaginal – and her golden nectar, both for showers and for “cocktails”. Della, though, was upper range – she did not do “brown”, the very thought disgusted her.

 

Someone – Della thought it was one of her richer clients – had suggested to the all-female board of Sex Sinema that she would be an ideal person to “front” one of the channel’s new programs.

 

Della, a tall, not to say statuesque blonde aged 40, had gone to the channel’s head offices, Mistress Mansion, set in one of the ritzier suburbs of New Los Angeles, out in the Valley. She had immediately impressed the 12-woman board.

 

It was not difficult to work out why. She was an inch short of six foot. She was built – big DD breasts, a 26-inch waist, 35-inch hips, glorious, sturdy thighs, lovely calves and an ass to die for, as the expression still went.

 

She had long, golden hair which shone like a wheatfield in high summer. Her eyes were dark brown, and gleamed in a sort of sadistic sheen when she was doing her work.

 

After a brief sound test, the board realized that Della had a delightful voice for fronting a female domination show – it was dark, sultry and sexy. It could also be strictly commanding, a perfect timbre for a front person in such a program.

 

As she soon found out, it was work which Della thoroughly enjoyed. As “front” person for the Punishment 120 extravaganza, Della no longer wielded a whip, although she featured throughout the show carrying a wicked-looking single-tailed leather lash.

 

No, she called the shots, as the dual flogging teams worked on the recipient of Punishment 120, now known by its millions of fans throughout the New United States, simply as P-120.

 

But it was Della’s experience at organising the whippings, her comments during the punishments and her interviews with the recipient of the floggings, and the dealers out of the pain, that gave the show its polish.

 

A special facility known as Punishment Park had been established by Sex Sinema out in the desert, across the border in Arizona. The place was well-stocked with men who were to be whipped – there were some 50 well-built cocksluts, although only 12 were featured in a year’s P120 shoots, since each program involved six days’ filming.

 

That gave just over 10 weeks of P120 shows, just enough to arouse the audience and make them pant for more.

 

The other 38 cocksluts were used in more Sex Sinema shows – shows with names like Cowering and Caned, Pissing for Pleasure, Broken in Bondage and Ponyboy Punishments.

 

All were wonderful shows, Della knew well, but there was something about Punishment 120 that had struck a chord with its – mainly – all-female audience.

 

One thing was its placement. Sex Sinema’s channel was a 24-hour operation, but while women were in charge, it meant that the workforce – well, the workforce that made the decisions – was mostly away from home during the hours of daylight.

 

Which meant that P-120’s placement of 8.30pm on a Sunday night was perfect. Most women “played” on Friday and Saturday nights, and the highest-ranked programs competed with each other on Sundays. And Sunday night was “the” big slot to aim for.

 

The delicious Della had a lot to do with this, of course. And her choice of flagellators. She chose the women well. They were almost all, it goes without saying, stunningly pretty. But they were a mix of types from there on.

 

Some were pneumatic dolls, with big, improbable breasts. Others were petite. Then there were the extremely popular body-builder types.

 

 

 

And they were racially mixed, too. Some were pretty little Asians. Others were haughty, black bitch-types. Then there were blonde-haired Amazons, and teenagers, some looking as if they should still be attending high school. Some were more mature, what men had disgustingly referred to back in the bad old days as “MILFS”.

 

All were extremely proficient at wielding a leather lash against a naked cockslut’s back, or buttocks, or thighs, or chest. Or cock and balls!

 

The cocksluts were also hand-picked, a chore Della left to the camp commandant of Punishment Park. All were chosen for good penile growth, but circumcision or fully-fleshed penis heads were immaterial.

 

Della, though, had a penchant for uncut cocksluts. That way, their agonies could be increased during the penis whipping segment of the shows, by having their foreskins pulled back. But that was simply her own personal fetish.

 

The cocksluts ranged from young – 16 or 17 – up to late 50s. Some were blonde, “pretty boys”. Others were blacks. Most were caucasians. Della preferred the Germanic, blonde types, but the cockslut’s reaction to the whips were more important than body types. High-pitched “screamers” were very popular and a good flow of tears was essential, too.

 

So it was with interest that she opened the folder and scanned the sheet before her. As she did so, Della pulled up her brief, red rubber miniskirt, revealing her naked pussy, a signal for her production assistant, Karla Conway, to go down on her.

 

Karla, a dark-haired, sun-bronzed beauty, had been chosen for four things – her ability at performing cunnilingus, her glorious sun-bronzed body, her age (18) and her undoubted production skills. Possibly, Della smiled to herself, in that order.

 

Karla started, as ever, at Della’s dark brown anal whorl, a signal that while she was a sexy little number, she was also keenly submissive when it came to her bitch boss.

 

As the expert teenaged mouth moved from her anus and started to lave at her lush sex lips, Della glanced at the sheet. This is what she read:

 

 

 

 

                                        Punishment 120 – shoot No 8

 

                                            Subject:       slave Jason

                                            Nationality: NUSA

                                            Age:             18

                                            Hair:            blonde

                                            Eyes:            blue

                                            Height:        5ft 11in

                                            Weight:       160lbs

                                            Body hair:   totally shaved

                                            Penis limp:  4”

                                            Penis erect:  7.5”

                                            Cut?             No

 

Comments: cockslut Jason has been an inmate at Punishment Park for six months and during that time has proved himself to be an excellent subject for bondage and the lash.

 

His experience includes a starring role in Cowering and Caned and fan mail for him is still being received at channel headquarters. His strong physique also makes him an ideal candidate for Ponyboy Punishment.

 

I think he will make a superb subject for the rigors of Punishment 120.

 

(signed)

Priscilla Payne

Camp commandant

Punishment Park

 

(dated)

 

July 16, 2077

 

 

 

Attached to the sheet, was a large envelope containing a color photograph of the cockslut, naked, his hands clasped behind his neck in typical slave submission. His blonde hair fell in glimmering tresses almost to his well-muscled, bronzed shoulders.

 

He had well-defined pectoral muscles, big bunches of flesh, with dark brown, erect nipples. His belly was toned. His thighs would mark delightfully under the lash.

 

His cock, semi-erect, his foreskin lips pulled back slightly to reveal his piss slit, was thick and glistening. His pubic bone, his cock shaft and his heavy scrotal sac were devoid of hair.

 

His mouth was pouting, almost in a sneer. Della smiled to herself. She knew his type perfectly. Before men had become reduced to cocksluts and slaves, and mere providers of semen to maintain the procreation of the population, she knew exactly what he would have been like.

 

They used to call them “studs”, she recalled from her history lessons. Many of them were practitioners of the now-defunct art of “surfing”. They were the sort who would use and abuse a woman, then desert her and move on to lust after and impregnate another poor female.

 

Lovely, purred Della, as Karla’s tongue began to work her closer and closer to her orgasm, I can’t wait to meet him.

 

And introduce him to the strictures of Punishment 120!

 

 

To be continued.

 

 

 

 

 

                        PUNISHMENT 120 – Part 2, the interview.

 

Della Domina walked into her Punishment Park suite and stripped nude. Stepping into the shower, she was joined by her full-breasted assistant, Karla, and the pair slowly soaped each other until the they were completely refreshed after the trip from New Los Angeles to the park’s location in the Arizona desert.

 

The lovely 40-year-old then pulled on a red rubber bikini, which lifted her large breasts into stunning uplift, the thong-style bottom leaving her lovely brown buttocks bare to view. On her feet she pulled dark red leather riding boots, which came to just below her knees.

 

Placing a wide-brimmed sombrero on her head, Della pronounced herself happy with her appearance, noted that Karla Conway was similarly dressed, only her rubber bikini was sheer white, which contrasted superbly with her deep, bronzed California tan. Her boots were also white, but her sombrero was, like Della’s brown.

 

The 18-year-old picked up her clipboard and notepad and the pair made their way to the camp commandant’s office. They found Priscilla Payne seated at her desk, her lush thighs spread wide, her ankles against a cockslut’s bare back. She was being orally serviced, and judging by her semi-shut eyes and glazed look, she was close to climax.

 

“Fuck off, slut,” snapped the 45-year-old black-haired beauty, kneeing the slave in front of her away with the sharp toe of her cowgirl-style boot. “I’ll need you again in 20 minutes. Wait out in the sun!”

 

Della smiled, and sat at one of the two chairs opposite the stern-faced but attractive woman. “Up to your usual tricks, eh?” she laughed. “A cockslut’s place is on his knees, correct?”

 

Priscilla grinned back at the famous TV presenter. “Or in a fuckin’ flogging frame, darling,” she said, in her posh English accent.

 

As a former madam in a house of perversion, she had been an ideal choice for the role of camp commandant at Punishment Park. She was, Della knew, very sadistic, but also acutely aware that her cockslut prisoners had to be kept in excellent shape for their roles in Sex Sinema’s productions.

 

“So tell me,” asked the Englishwoman, “how are things at Sin City?”

 

She was using the “in” term for Sex Sinema’s headquarters in New Los Angeles.

 

Della laughed. “Couldn’t be better. The last program of the new series P-120, chapter 5 - scored an average of 180 million viewers over the seven Sunday nights, which is pretty good. At least it means I’m earning my miserly salary!”

 

Priscilla whooped with laughter. “Miserly? Fuck me gently, Dell, the last story I read in Variety magazine said you were on the 20 mill mark. True?”

 

Della grinned. “It’s like my age, darling,” she told the camp commandant. “A lady would never tell!”

 

Priscilla nodded, then looked at her scribble pad. “Cockslut Jason is in a viewing cell, you ready to have a chat with him?”

 

Della nodded. “Find a guard and Karla and I will go down there for the interview,” she said. “And you can get that cockslut’s tongue back between your thighs!”

 

Priscilla pressed her vidphone and a pretty little blonde’s face came up on the screen.

 

“Sadie,” she said to the image, “come to my office, pick up Mistress Della and her assistant and take them to the viewing cell, they want to interview the young cockslut. Stay with ‘em and make sure he behaves.”

 

The blonde laughed. “Sure thing, madam, it will be a pleasure,” and then the screen faded, and in no more than a minute, the pretty little blonde was entering the camp commandant’s office.

 

“Della, meet Sadie Strong,” said the Punishment Park commander. “She’s also cockslut Jason’s personal trainer, and she’ll tell you all about him.”

 

Della eyed a shortish, but well-built young blonde, wearing a black PVC catsuit. “Hi Sadie,” she said, grasping the youngster’s extremely strong grip.

 

“Come with me, I’ll tell you about him on the way,” said the guard.

 

Out in the bright sunshine, Della flanked by the guard-trainer and Karla, her assistant, was informed: “He’s very young – well, he’s my age, 18 – but he’s very good.

 

“He screams fit to burst your eardrums and his tears flow so fuckin’ thick – he’s gonna be a great P-120 slave,” said Sadie, who was obviously proud of the work she had done to bring the kid up to scratch.

 

Sadie led them down into a sort of bunker-style building, well air-conditioned, alleviating the blast of the desert outside, and marched down a long row of cells to one at the far end of the cool corridor.

 

Inside the cell, stood a naked cockslut. Jason had a yoke attached to his arms and shoulders, a heavy yoke, and his shoulders, elbows and wrists were strapped to it.

 

His ankles were kept about three feet apart by a gleaming chrome spreader bar, and around his cock and balls a metal engorgement ring served to semi-erect his cock.

 

“Cockslut,” snapped the girl, slamming the door behind her, “this is Mistress Della, who’s gonna be in charge of your P-120. Tell her you’re pleased to meet her.”

 

The boy swallowed, then looked with almost a look of lust at Della’s rubber bikini-clad body. “Er, hello, Mistress Della,” he stammered, “I am most pleased to meet you.”

 

“The pleasure’s all mine, cockslut,” said Della, walking in front of him and stroking his semi-stiffy with a cool hand. The lad was soon standing to magnificently erect attention, a full seven-inch hard-on jutting from his groin.

 

 

“Now, what brings you here? Why are you a Punishment Park cockslut?” snapped the sex show presenter.

 

“My mom sold me as a cockslut slave, ma’am,” said the teenager.

 

“She get a good price?” asked Della, picking up on the lad’s disappointment that his old momma had sold him into slavery.

 

“She got two million, she told me, ma’am,” said the lad.

 

“What she do with the money, cockslut?” asked the dominatrix standing inches in front of him, her big breasts almost brushing against his upper chest.

 

“She bought herself two cockslut slaves for her personal use, ma’am,” said the lad.

 

“Sensible lady,” laughed Della. “How old is she? Where she live?”

 

The lad coughed. “She’s 38, ma’am, lives in New Los Angeles.”

 

“She know you’re gonna feature on the Punishment 120 show, cunt?” Della asked.

 

“Dunno, ma’am,” said the lad, his eyes trying to look away, but failing completely and lusting for Della’s glorious body.

 

“Well, we’d better tell her, eh?” said Della, making a nod towards Karla.

 

“Got it,” said the production assistant. “We’ll send her a vidgram. Name, cockslut?”

 

“Mizz Jenny Pearson, ma’am,” said the boy.

 

“Now, Jason Pearson,” said Della, stroking the lad’s stiff meat again, “you’re very fuckin’ honored to be on my show. And there’s three things that makes my show fuckin’ good. Know what they are?”

 

The slaved gulped, his body swayed slightly, so did his penis. “No, ma’am.”

 

“Number one,” said Della, counting with one finger, “is the presenter. Number two, are the floggers.”

 

Then she paused. “And number three is the slave.”

 

Della stopped and looked hard into his face. “And that means you, cockslut. When you scream I want you to be heard in Cal-i-fuckin’-fornia. When you cry I want you to flood the Red River.

 

“And when you and I chat – and I do a lot of interviewing slaves during a P-120 – I want you to speak clearly, speak up and sound interesting. After all, you wanna make mom proud of you, don’t you?”

 

The lad nodded.

 

Della turned to look at Sadie. “When’s his last flogging?”

 

Sadie replied quickly. “Two weeks ago, Mistress Della, and when he was pencilled in as a P-120 subject, we stopped. That OK?”

 

Della took her hand off the boy’s prick and walked behind him, surveying his superbly-muscled back and buttocks.

 

“That’s just perfect,” she said, running her fingers over the lad’s tight flesh, then his boyish buttocks. “You gonna sing for me, eh, boy?”

 

The lad nodded, as Della walked back in front of him.

 

“You know what a P-120 consists of, cockslut?” asked the 40-year-old domina, again stroking the lad’s turgid erection.

 

“Yes, mistress,” he said, very, very quietly, “Mistress Sadie’s filled me in.”

 

Della laughed in his face. “Well, don’t worry too much – six days and it’s all over,” she said. “Only remember, I want a good performance from you, or else!”

 

The lad nodded glumly. Then Della addressed his trainer.

 

“Right, Sadie, give him two good enemas before you bring him out to the frame tomorrow morning, don’t want him crapping while you and the other lady work him over,” she said.

 

The girl nodded, but Della noticed a look of surprise on the lad’s pretty features.

 

“Oh, sorry, cockslut,” she said, not sounding sorry in the slightest, “didn’t you know? Mistress Sadie’s gonna be one of your two floggers for tomorrow’s opening segment.

 

“So you’d better be ready to yell long and loud. Don’t want you embarrassing your trainer, do we?”

 

The lad shook his head. “No, Mistress Della, surely not, Mistress Della,” he said.

 

And then Della did something she always did on the eve of a cockslut slave’s P-120. She placed her hands on his lovely firm buttocks, cupped them, slapped one softly, then pressed her breasts against his upper chest and kissed him warmly, wetly and passionately on the mouth.

 

As she stepped back she could see two things which interested her. One was the cockslut slave’s cock which was standing to full, erect attention, veins standing out on the rigid flesh.

 

The other was a look of pure animal lust as the 18-year-old plainly desired the lush, full-breasted, glorious woman who was going to oversee his painful discipline the following day.

 

Outside in the corridor, Sadie asked the Punishment 120 presenter: “Why did you do that?”

 

Della smiled.

 

“Because, my dear,” she informed the teenage guard, “I like them to lust after me during their torture!”

 

To be continued.

 

 

                   PUNISHMENT 120 – Part 3, the preparation

 

Della sat at the head of the large table and waited for her crew to take their seats. The bikini-clad Karla sat beside her, while the other four members of the crew, who had arrived in the equipment van some half an hour before, split up two to each side of the table.

 

It was one of Della’s strengths that before each filming of a P-120 segment – and there were six, one for each day of the punishments – she had a run through with the crew.

 

Many fronters and producers, she well knew, didn’t bother, but it was part of Della’s attention to detail which kept Punishment 120 to the forefront of the ratings – that and the fact that she rotated the crew tasks, so they did not get burn-out or allow boredom to affect their work.

 

As a result, Della’s all-woman crew – the idea of a cockslut being on the crew was, naturally, unthinkable – were devoted to her. All appreciated the way she put in for them in wage negotiations, an appreciation which often found its way into oral appreciation between Della’s lovely strong thighs.

 

“Right,” said Della, when she had everyone’s attention, “Karla and I have interviewed the cockslut and he looks perfect for a P-120, right, Karla?”

 

The teenaged production assistant nodded. “He’s pretty, big blue eyes, he’s well built and he’s got the hots for Della,” she said.

 

A pretty black girl laughed. “Haven’t they all,” said Claudia, the sound technician.

 

“Yeah, tell us something we don’t know,” said a lovely Asian girl, tall for her race, with fantastic breasts.

 

“OK, Melody,” said Della, “something you don’t know is that the kid is 18 and has been sold into cockslut slavery for 2 mill by his mom. She used some of the money to purchase two cockslut slaves!”

 

The Asian beauty nodded appreciatively. “Nice touch,” she laughed, “I like it.”

 

Della was pleased her crew seemed to be interested in this cockslut. It always helped if the people doing most of the hard work were interested in the slave.

 

“Now, ladies,” said Della, “positions. Claudia, as usual you will bring us crystal clear clarity on the sound of the whips cracking on boy flesh, of his screams and whimpers.

 

“Also, let’s make sure the sound of the horse’s piss flowing onto his burning back really sounds extra splashy and crashy this time, I want it to sound like surf crashing on the shore when it gets poured on his wounds,” said the sex show presenter.

 

“Got it,” said Claudia, “I’ll put the microphone nice and close for each time he’s drenched.”

 

“Now, Melody,” said the pretty presenter, “you’re gonna be the wide angle camerawoman. Nice shots from all angles of the two floggers. One is an 18-year-old, the kid’s trainer, her name’s Sadie and she’s pretty.

 

“And you, Jenna,” Della was now speaking to a sloe-eyed blonde beauty, tall, haughty and a fuckin’ good camerawoman, “you’re gonna give me medium close-up shots of the whips hitting his back, also close shots of the floggers.

 

“You know the drill, plenty of up-crotch shots, plenty of minge, plenty of bouncing breasts as they heave the whips onto him.”

 

Finally, Della spoke to an older woman, possibly older than Della, a close-cropped dark-haired woman. She was not as big breasted as the others in the group, but Della could not do without her.

 

“Penny, I’m keeping you on the close-ups for this cunt,” she said. “I want some nice pix of his cock swaying under the strain of the straps, up-crotch shots, too, show his anus. And plenty of close-ups of his facing wincing in agony, and his yelling and screaming.”

 

“All right, everyone? Any questions?”

 

“Yeah,” said Penny. “Can we go inspect him, run our hands over him, so to speak?”

 

Della grinned a grin of pure mischief. “Sure, go find Guard Sadie, and I’m sure she’ll let you touch the cunt up a bit. Only no rough stuff, just stroke him. And Penny – I know you! No knees to the crotch!”

 

The dark-haired close-up camerawoman looked upset, but was just as keen as the other three to leave the Punishment Park’s conference room and lay her hands on tomorrow’s slave.

 

Then the presenter and her assistant were alone. Della looked at Karla, Karla looked at Della, and they nodded to each other and walked back to their suite, in the camp commandant’s luxury section of the park’s headquarters.

 

Stripping out of their bikini bras and panties, the pair were soon intertwined, legs wrapped around each other, semi-shaved pussies graunching, snatch-against-snatch and tongues entwined in deep, thrusting kisses.

 

Later, enjoying post-coital cigarettes – the medicine men, or women, rather, had long since found a cure for lung cancer – the pair lay back on the large bed. Della, though, picked up her P-120 Rules and Regulations. She knew them backwards, but a little revision, she reckoned, never hurt anyone.

 

Karla dropped off for a pre-dinner doze, as her beautiful boss read through Sex Sinema’s stringent rules for the Punishment 120 program.

 

The first rule, Della felt, was one of the most important. “The conduct of a P-120 shall not be truncated. Each 2-hour section of each day’s punishment must last for 2 hours, so as to make the slave’s suffering as realistic as possible.”

 

In laywoman’s terms, it meant that while the program would be edited to “fast forward” through the boring bits, the slave’s suffering in each of the four 2-hour segments would last exactly that – two hours.

 

Next Della went to “Rules: first day’s punishment, upper back”. These stated, unequivocally, that prior to the actual flogging, the slave would be placed in stringent, flesh-streching bondage for 2 hours. Hence the term “Punishment 120”.

 

The rules went on to stipulate that there would be two floggers behind the cockslut’s back for the 2-hour flogging. There was also a strict instruction as to the number of blows: “On NO account is the slave to receive more than 10 strokes in one minute.”

 

The next rule stated that following his two-hour flogging, the slave would be left hanging in his bondaged suspension for another two hours, before the final 2-hour segment.

 

“It cannot be stressed enough,” the show’s creators had written, “that this 2-hour segment after the flogging fill exactly 2 hours, so as to heighten the slave’s apprehension as to what awaits him for the final 2-hour session!”

 

And this involved, as Della knew only too well, the periodic drenching of the flogged section of the slave’s body with buckets of horse’s urine. The high uric acid content produced high-pitched screams of agony, and was one of the most popular parts of the show!

 

Della flicked through the rest of the rules – day two was bent over a flogging horse in bondage before two hours of caning from two floggers; day three, backs of his thighs from two floggers; day four, upper chest from two floggers; day five, fronts of thighs, two floggers; and finally day six, cock and ball flogging, one flogger.

 

There was a paragraph that the slave’s thirst could be “quenched” by the intake of cold human urine during his torture, at the whim of “the presenter”.

 

Della decided that Jason would, indeed, be forced to drink plenty of piss during his ordeal. It was one of the favorite sequences in any Punishment 120 show, producing lots of letters from viewers.

 

Lower down in the creators’ instructions was an admonition that the cock and ball flogging should not exceed five strokes per minute, and then Della checked the last instructions.

 

“The slave will during each infliction of flogging from day 1 to day 5, wear an inserted anal intruder and a rubber prickle punishment bag will be placed over his scrotum.

 

“On day 6, he will wear a protective pair of rubber, open-fronted panties through which the cock and balls will be drawn. ONLY the cock and balls will be struck, in this final segment, not the inner thighs or lower belly and at NO more than 5 strokes per minute.”

 

I already know that, thought Della, but decided the show’s creative staff were simply making sure their point was made.

 

Della also knew that the circle through which the slave’s genitals would protrude had an inserted cord which when drawn and tied tightly served to thrust the cock and balls out in a tight bunch of muscle for the attentions of the flogger.

 

Finally, she put the rules and regulations down and contemplated the following day’s filming.

 

It was, she decided, going to be fun. Well, for herself, the crew and the two floggers.

 

But possibly not for cockslut slave Jason!

 

 

To be continued.

 

 

 

 

                           PUNISHMENT 120 – Part 4, the introductions

 

After breakfast, Della carefully chose her outfit for the first day of the P-120 shoot. She always wore a different outfit on each of the six days’ torture, and one of the highlights of each shoot was for female viewers – and those cocksluts permitted by their dominatrixes  to ogle her outrageous choice of wardrobe.

 

As one television critic (female, naturally) in an adult magazine wrote: “A lot of the fun in watching the punitive Punishment 120 show of whip-wielding delight and domination is wondering what pussy and breast-revealing creation the gorgeous Della Domina will select for her viewers’ delectation. Yum, yum, yum!”

 

In fact, there had even been a suggestion that the national betting agency DAB – the Domination Agency Board, and a major sponsor of the show – put up a sheet for punters to bet on whether Della would appear in leather, rubber, lingerie, PVC, latex, a bikini or whatever on each show!

 

As it was, there was, Della thought, quite enough gambling on the P-120 program. Bettors could gamble on how many strokes a slave would receive in his two-hour flogging segment. How long before his first scream – to the nearest minute – how long before his first sobs would be captured on camera.

 

But that was not all. Punters could speculate on how many times he would be force fed a glass of urine, and how many times horses’ piss would be drenched on his agonised, flogged flesh.

 

That was a total of five different possible bets for punters, and they could also go for an “exacta”, which she thought was the term, although she was not sure, as she never gambled with the DAB. An exacta, Della thought she had once been told, was for a correct prediction in all the five categories.

 

One lucky punter from Greater New York City had actually struck the exacta once, she recalled, and received a lot of publicity, not to mention a dividend of something like 750,000 New American dollars, thanks to the vast pool of money in the DAB accounts on Punishment 120 betting,

 

 

 

Back to the demands of her wardrobe, Della decided to go with lingerie for the first day of Jason’s six-day torment. She selected a black satin bra, which she knew would gleam sensually in the bright Arizona sun. At the center of each cup, was a cut out, which allowed her large, brown nipples and the wide surrounds of her areolae to be seen.

 

At her crotch, Della went with a matching pair of black satin crotchless panties. On her feet she chose black leather boots, which came half-way up her strong thighs. On her head she pulled a broad-brimmed straw hat, with a glistening black bow around the yellow straw.

 

She was just about to walk out into the sunshine and take her place by the sturdy flogging frame where cockslut Jason would soon be dragged, when the camp commandant knocked on the door and entered.

 

“Just one thing I thought you ought to know before you go out and start shooting,” Priscilla told Della. “Do you know why the cockslut’s mom sold him to us?”

 

Della shook her head. “Tell me.”

 

Priscilla grinned a wicked grin. “Because the boy was fuckin’ her, forcing his attentions on her, raping her with his seven-inch stiffy. Thought you ought to know.”

 

And as the camp commandant went back to the door, Della said: “Fuck, I wish I’d known that last night, I’d have been able to work it into my script. As it is, I’m gonna have to throw the script away now.”

 

The camp commander looked concerned. “Hey, sorry, Della!”

 

Della smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll wing it. I often work better when I’m improvising, but I’m still made at you for not telling me, Priscilla!”

 

 

 

And then she walked out into the sunshine, digesting this disgusting piece of news, to see that her camera and sound crew were ready and assembled, nude as usual. They wore sneakers, but apart from that, were as naked as the day they were born.

 

This was an added attraction for Punishment 120 because if, by accident, one camerawoman found another in the background of a shot, they were instructed to continue shooting.

 

The number of fan mail vidletters which came in asking “More of the Asian camerawoman, pleeeeease!” or “Who is that beautiful black bitch?” sometimes almost added up to equal Della’s fan mail. Well, not quite!

 

“Ready crew?” asked Della, chirpily. She had enjoyed a good breakfast, it was just before 9am and she was looking forward to this P-120.

 

“Ready,” said Melody, “and this sun is perfect. Nice light, terrific for shooting.”

 

“And for flogging,” laughed Della. “Now, let’s get the first shot.” Then turning to Priscilla, she asked: “The floggers ready?”

 

The camp commandant nodded. “All ready to roll, just inside the door to the bunker. Just tap on the door as usual, and that will be their signal to drag him out to the frame.”

 

Della let the three camerawomen get ready by the door, while Claudia stood off to one side with her miniature but strong microphone and nodded she was ready for action.

 

Della rapped once on the door, then scrambled to get out of shot.

 

The door swung open and out came two floggers, naked in the tradition of P-120 shows, but for army-style boots on their feet. One was Sadie, of course, her breasts heaving as she and a superbly-built black beauty dragged a struggling cockslut Jason from the bunker.

 

The lad, Della noticed with satisfaction, was playing his part well.

 

“Nooooo, nooooo, mercy, mercy, please don’t do this, I’ll do anything, anything,” he pleaded but it was futile.

 

The larger of the two floggers, who Della took to be in her late 30s, had big, heavy breasts, with massive nipples and areolae almost as large as saucers. Her minge was shaved, the traces of hair black, crinkly and gleaming at her crotch. The black bitch’s body was obviously toned by hours of gym work-outs.

 

Sadie was a far lighter brown, of course, being Caucasian, but her body was no less attractive. She also went for a shaved crotch, her blonde hair just a faint thatch on her sex.

 

The cockslut was spreader-barred still, and Della noted that his arms were free, to allow him a frenzied struggling with his two guards, but it was useless. Soon they had him beneath the crossbar of the flogging frame, the women filming him from the front and the rear, and then he was being strapped into position.

 

When they had completed their work, the naked teenager was a sweating, suspended cockslut, his back muscles straining from the cords which held his wrists to the inner tops of the crossbar.

 

The spreader bar had gone, but his ankles were tied wide to the feet of the strong metal poles supporting each end of the crossbar. His thighs strained powerfully, his calves gleamed. He was on tiptoe – and he would stay that way for eight hours!

 

From where she stood, Della could see that an anal intruder had been thrust up his rectum, and a sturdy rubber strap from the base of the dildo went to a tight rubber punishment pouch which ensnared his balls in a cruel, prickly grip. The red rubber of the pouch gleamed where it bunched against his scrotum.

 

Della, on cue from Claudia, walked in front of the now hanging, panting and sweating slave, his cock amazingly showing a semi-erection.

 

“Hello all you Punishment 120 fans out there,” she said, a big smile on her pretty face, as she was filmed standing in front of the swaying cockslut, “and welcome to another of your favorite flagellation programs.

 

“I’m Della Domina, your hostess for the next six shows of P-120 part eight and now, without further ado, let’s meet our two floggers for today’s performance!”

 

The two women, both now holding black leather triple-thonged floggers, flanked Della and while the shot was being set up for the medium close-up camera, Della whispered to the black beauty: “What’s your name, darling?”

 

“Audree,” said the woman, in a deep, “Don’t fuck with me” voice, and then Claudia nodded that she was ready for the filming to continue.

 

Della smiled at the big-muscled black beauty. “Hi, now you’re Mistress Audree, I know, but please tell our viewers more about yourself.”

 

Audree looked a little uncomfortable, but then announced: “Hello,  P-120 fans, I’m Mistress Audree, I’m 39-years-old and this is my first time on the show. I’m sure lookin’ forward to it!

“But it’s not my introduction to floggin’ – I used to work in a government cockslut correctional facility.”

 

Della smiled her biggest, most supportive smile. “Welcome aboard, Mistress Audree, and I know you’re gonna have lots of fans after they’ve seen you dealing to cockslut Jason here.

 

“Now, Mistress Sadie, tell the viewers who you are. I understand you have a special relationship with this slave?”

 

Sadie grinned and spoke. She was, thought Della, a natural. “Hi all you lovely P-120 viewers out there,” said the girl. “My name’s Mistress Sadie, I’m 18 and I’m this cockslut’s trainer.”

 

Della moved into the dialogue. “Marvellous, girls, and good luck with his flogging! And now, let’s meet the cockslut!”

 

Karla called a halt to the filming while the close-up camerawoman, Penny, and Jenna, the medium-shot woman, prepared to film Della’s interview with the suspended, sweat-dripping slave.

 

When all was in place, Della placed a hand on the lad’s swinging semi-stiffy, then painfully grabbed his prickle-punished balls and smiled up at his sweat-stained face.

 

“And now, let me introduce all you P-120 fans to our next cockslut – Jason. Jason, tell the audience how old you are,” ordered Della, stroking the boy to a rapidly appearing boner.

 

“I’m 18, Mistress Della,” said the lad.

 

“And you’re gonna be a good little cockslut for us, eh, Jase?” asked Della, teasingly.

 

“Yes, mistress, I hope so, mistress,” the teenager said, as Della continued to work on his now pre-cum dripping member, an action faithfully recorded by the close-up camera.

 

“Now tell me, Jason,” said Della, in her best bedside manner voice, “how come you ended up here at Punishment Park as a cockslut slave?”

 

The lad spoke quickly, unaware that Della knew his “little” secret.

 

“My mom sold me to the owners, Mistress Della,” said the lad.

 

“Why?” asked Della, and you could have heard a pin drop in the still Arizona air.

 

“Cos she wanted to make some money,” said Jason.

 

“Oh?” said Della, her grip tightening on his cock, her voice hardening. “Not because you were fuckin’ her?”

 

The lad jerked in his bonds, and protested.

 

“Er no, nnnnno, mistress, no,” he said, his face scrunched up as if doing that would make it true.

 

“Yes, mistress, yes, mistress, yes,” said Della, implacably. “And now she’s sold you, you filthy little fucking incestuous cunt and she has two private, personal cockslut slaves of her own. And she deserves them, cuntface!”

 

The boy looked as if he was going to sob. “I didn’t mean too,” he almost whispered. “But she was so gorgeous!”

 

“How old is she, you filthy mother fucker?” demanded Della, the domina.

 

“She’s 38, mistress,” said Jason, looking totally beaten now, before even a stroke had been laid on his skin.

 

“Well, Jase,” smiled Della, back now to her friendly way, “your mom’s gonna be watching this program, and she’s gonna enjoy watching you suffer for what you did to her.

 

“And believe me, boy, you’re gonna SUFFER!”

 

Della shouted the last word, and then moved away from the suspended slave.

 

“Perfect,” said Claudia, “that’s a wrap, great sound.”

 

“Right, team,” said Della. “That’s the opening segment out of the way. Let’s all enjoy a coffee while he burns out here in the sunshine.”

 

And the two floggers, the four filming technicians, the production assistant and Della walked into the park’s canteen and the cooling shade.

 

Jason hung in his bonds, beneath the blazing sun. The Rolex Oyster on Della’s wrist showed it was still only 9.25am. Another 95 minutes before the first stroke fell!

 

 

To be continued.

 

 

 

 

                   PUNISHMENT 120 – Part 5, the first flogging.

 

The crew had finished warm cups of coffee and cookies, and Della announced: “Let’s give him a drink of piss, and we can get them to fit it into the first segment of the show.”

 

From a refrigerator in the canteen, Della was handed a large jug of yellow-colored liquid. It was the contents of both her and Karla’s bladders, their first pisses of the day, therefore extremely pungent and extremely bitter tasting.

 

Della poured almost three-quarters of a pint of piss into a glass and walked out to the sweating slave, hanging before her.

 

When the camera crew and the sound lady were in position, Della started: “Hi cockslut, my watch tells me you’ve been hanging out here in the sun for almost an hour. Must be getting thirsty, eh?”

 

Jason nodded his head and spoke up clearly. “Yes, Mistress Della, very thirsty, very,” he said.

 

Della smiled. “Well, here’s a nice cool drink for you, Jase, it’s my urine from overnight, nicely chilled. Hope you enjoy it. Gonna thank me?”

 

Jason nodded again. “Yes, mistress, thank-you so much for allowing me permission to drink your glorious golden nectar.”

 

Della approved. A slave who knew not to refer to his mistress’s urine as “piss” had obviously been well-trained.

 

She pressed the rim, of the glass to his pretty mouth and after an initial wince when the strong aroma of the urine struck his nostrils, the lad gulped the glass dry in three quaffs.

 

“Good boy,” said Della, encouragingly. “Was that nice?”

 

“Lovely, mistress,” said the lad, lying blatantly.

 

“Great,” said Della, “because there’s lots more for you. Now, hang around for another hour and then we’ll be back to start on your back!”

 

The crew indicated that the sound levels and the pictures were all great, and the team marched back into the cool of the canteen for more refreshments.

 

Later, Della checked her watch, saw it was now 10.55am and the assembled company walked out to the flogging-framed slave.

 

“Floggers, take your positions,” said Della, closely following the routine Punishment 120 script. The two naked women walked behind the sweating slave’s back.

 

“Now, Jase,” said Della, in a friendly tone, “you can see the clock and it’s reading 10.59 and 01 seconds. When it gets to 10.59.50 you will start counting down from 10 to nought.

 

“When you get to zero, call out nice and loud ‘Mistresses, please flog me’, got it?”

 

The slave nodded, looking extremely miserable. Then, when the large computer read-out on the clock reached 10.59.50 Jason started his count down to torture – a strict requirement of the creators of the P-120 game and designed, of course, to add to the cockslut’s humiliation.

 

When the clock read 11.00.00 Jason yelled: “Mistresses, please flog me!”

 

But the two vixens behind him dragged out the awful fear of waiting.

 

Both placed the triple-thonged lashes on his muscular upper back and traced their tips down his flesh. Despite the searing heat of the Arizona morning, a shiver ran through the naked slave.

 

Then the whips started their whistling work. Sadie struck first, her right arm whirling down and lashing her flogger across the slave’s broad, sinewy back. Three pinkish lines remained.

 

 

 

The next stroke came from the Amazonian Audree, and was slightly harder, but not much. The triple leather crack made a sweet sound to Della’s ears as the thongs spread more tell tale ribbons of whip marks on the cockslut’s firm flesh.

 

Della checked her watch and saw that the two flagellatrixes were timing the blows well within the 10-strokes per minute rule.

 

The first minute saw only five strokes inflicted – both whipsters were keen on tracing the thongs over the lad’s flesh between strokes – the second seven, the third eight, and for the fourth back down to six.

 

These women, Della could see, had built-in clocks in their heads when it came to stroke counting. In the fifth minute they landed eight blows on him, the stripes were becoming redder. Della did a quick mental calculation and found that at this rate, the two whip mistresses would land more than 800 blows on the shuddering slave!

 

After 10 minutes, Della called a halt, and looked up into the lad’s grimacing face.

 

“Like a nice refreshing drink, slut?” she queried.

 

The teenager shut his eyes, then looked down at the beautiful face of the woman in charge of his torments. “Yes, please, mistress,” he gasped and Della walked to the canteen while the floggers continued their whip work.

 

Pressing the glass to his mouth on her return, Della allowed him a minute or two to drink her and Karla’s urine cocktail, then she nodded at Sadie and Audree and the whips began to whistle anew.

 

The close-up camera soon spotted tears rolling down the cockslut’s face. Karla made a note on her pad.

 

Then, after about 20 minutes, a particularly vicious stroke from the black beast, Audree, drew a whimper from the lad. The next, from Sadie, produced a murmured moan and then, after Audree’s next foray onto slave flesh came the sound Della was waiting for.

 

“Aieeeeee!” screeched the youth, his body arching as the cruel crops cut into his flesh, this stroke sending spurts of blood into the air as the leather finally cracked his skin.

 

Della stepped alongside Karla, and found that, according to the log the lovely 18-year-old production assistant was maintaining, the stroke that had produced the boy’s first scream was the 136th. Hmm, she thought, not bad, not bad at all.

 

The whip work went on. Sometimes the flagellators slowed the tempo, with more soft, delicate strokes over his burned, bruised, battered and now bleeding flesh, just tracing the whips in teasing, taunting traces before flaying the flogger down across the welted marks with gusto.

 

By the hour mark, the slaveboy had sucked down another large glass of urine, doing it now with enthusiasm because, Della reasoned, he realized that while the lovely TV frontwoman was feeding him the strong-tasting liquid, at least his back wasn’t being flayed.

 

The second hour saw an increase in his screams. The yells became more vibrant, more piercing, higher-pitched, louder and even louder, as the cameras recorded every blood-spurting stroke, every drop of tears from his big blue eyes, every mouth-wide bellowing of agony.

 

And then, it was over. The two flagellatrixes stopped, their bodies sweat-covered, their breasts heaving, their pussies pulsing with the excitement of their agony-inducing accomplishments.

 

Della stepped back to the lad and pressed yet another glass of urine to his lips. Then, with a stroke of his sweat-stained blonde hair, she smiled at him.

 

“Now you just hang about for another two hours, there’s a good cockslut, and the girls will be back to bathe your wounds.” And with a quick squeeze of his prickle-punished scrotum, Della walked away from the sobbing slut.

 

In the cool of the canteen, the lovely TV presenter, her crew and the two whip mistresses, tucked into a lovely salmon salad, washed down with some foamy jugs of beer and, for Della, an excellent bottle of chardonnay.

 

 

 

From time to time – three times in all, during the two hours the blubbering boy hung from his straps in the hot sun – Della presented him with glasses of urine, each cooling gift faithfully recorded on camera.

 

During each “drinks break”, Della took the opportunity to have a little chat with the suffering slave.

 

One “little chat” went like this:

 

Della: “How’s your back, cunt?”

 

Slave: “Awful, mistress, it burns like crazy.”

 

Della: “Know what’s coming next, don’t you, cunt?”

 

Slave: “Yes, mistress, the horse urine.”

 

Della: “Right, and if you think you’re in agony now, wait till the horse’s piss hits you!”

 

Finally, the clock had almost reached the six-hour mark, and the floggers made their way out to the suspended cockslut and stood by their buckets.

 

Della gave the lad another glass of her urine, then smiled sweetly at his scrunched up face.

 

“Now it’s time for your soaking, slut,” she said, her words being faithfully recorded for the P-120 viewers.

 

“Sadie, you go first!”

 

And the lush-breasted little teenager picked up the big bucket and stepped up onto the chair which had been placed behind the slave’s burned, bloodied, criss-crossed back and tipped it until the urine was in danger of spilling.

 

“Feel this, cunt!” shouted Sadie, and a stream of dark yellow horse’s piss slopped from the bucket and into the teen’s wounds.

 

 

 

The cameras got the scene. It was almost as if the 18-year-old had received a few millions volts of electricity. His body threshed, thrashed, jerked and bucked wildly in his bonds, his screams echoed throughout the large compound.

 

The girl stepped down, and Della saw that possibly only a fifth of the bucket’s contents had been emptied onto Jason’s welted back.

 

Slowly, the lad’s screams faded, his jerking body, still shuddering slightly, calmed until, as last, his glistening figure was still.

 

“Here comes Mistress Audree, cunt, get ready for some more agony!” Della cried, and the black beauty advanced on the suspended slut slave.

 

The naked, big bird climbed onto the chair and made the cockslut suffer.

 

“Beg me for it, mother fucking cunt!” snarled the black woman.

 

“Please, Mistress Audree, please pour the horse’s piss on my back, please,” came the sobbed pleas. And the woman obliged, pouring a stream of urine carefully over his battered back.

 

“Aaaaaaargh!” came an agonised cry, and then the screams started to erupt again as the cockslut felt the strongly salty urine burn into his wounds, his body once more threshing wildly in his bondage.

 

And so the boy’s torments continued. At regular intervals either the pretty blonde guard, Mistress Sadie, or the stunningly-built body builder Mistress Audree would, at the order from Della Domina, climb onto the chair with her bucket and empty more horse urine onto the bucking young slave.

 

At last, his two hours’ final torment was over, and Della rewarded him with one last suck of a filled glass of her and Karla’s cold urine combination.

 

The lad was left, quivering in his bonds, as Della stood in front of Karla holding an electronic autocue for her summing up of the day’s proceedings.

 

“Well, P-120 fans, that’s it for cockslut Jason’s first day of punishment. And now, the numbers those of you who’ve had a bet are waiting for.”

 

Della looked at the autocue and announced: “Jason received a grand total of 794 strokes across his back. I wonder how many of you picked it?

 

“His first tears were recorded 15 minutes into the punishment, his first scream came at 21 minutes.

 

“Moving on to glasses of human urine, he drank a total of 15. And the horse’s urine was poured onto his back in 12 slops.

 

“Congratulations to you lucky winners, and now, for our finale let’s hear from our plucky young cockslut!”

 

Filming stopped and the cameras were set up again while Della stepped beside the wincing, panting and still shuddering cockslut.

 

“Well, Jase,” said Della, in her cosy, snug “nice to talk to you” manner, “how are ya feeling?”

 

The lad gasped, then spluttered: “I’m in agony, Mistress Della. My back it’s burning, it’s like a million matches burning in my flesh!”

 

Della laughed. “Don’t worry, big boy, tomorrow’s the caning on your beautiful butt. That’ll be nice, won’t it, cunt?”

 

The lad swallowed deeply and replied with another shudder running through his pain-wracked body. “No, Mistress Della, I don’t think it will.”

 

Della laughed in his face once more and tweaked his testicles.

 

“Course it will, slut,” she assured him. “Know why?”

 

The teenaged slave slut shook his head and in barely a whisper, but a whisper Claudia reckoned the mic picked up perfectly, asked: “No, mistress, why?”

 

Della roared with laughter. “Because it’ll take your mind off the pain in your back, stupid!”

 

Then, turning directly to the camera, Della signed off: “See you next week, Punishment 120 fans!”

 

 

To be continued.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                         PUNISHMENT 120 – Part 6, intermission

 

It was just gone 5pm on a lovely warm Arizona evening, eight hours after the start of P-120, when two medical members of the Punishment Park squad wheeled out a hospital-style gurney, removed cockslut Jason from his bonds, placed him face down on the gurney and wheeled him away for treatment.

 

Della knew that his wounds would be expertly seen to, so the lad could be presentable for his caning the next day. Soon, she knew, she would have to attend the traditional Punishment Park post-filming cocktail party, but first she went to the camera crew’s large room.

 

There, the contents of the three cameras had been sent electronically to Sex Sinema’s New Los Angeles headquarters. In actuality, the production experts at “Sin City” had the technical ability to plug directly into the three cameras as they were filming and make suggestions as to what type of shots they wanted.

 

But Della told them never to interrupt her girls as they filmed. She liked to be in charge, and she also liked her camerawomen to be able to film a scenario without being bothered by some snooty “I know better” director back at headquarters.

 

Those in power at Sex Sinema knew better than to argue with Della. She was the superstar of the biggest-watched show on the sex channel and they knew it was not wise to incur her wrath. They butted out of the filming for P-120 shoots.

 

But not minutes after all the wonderful pictures taken of Jason’s flogging had been received, than Della had a call on her vid phone from her director.

 

Della placed the phone on the table, and the camerawomen, sound girl and Karla looked at the pretty features of the program’s director, the flashing-eyed black beauty Condy Conty. The busty bitch, wearing a black leather playsuit that accentuated her 40DD boobs, smiled at the assembled crew.

 

“Another great program, by the looks of it,” she drawled, lighting a cigarette and blowing a steady plume of blue towards the air conditioning extractors in her New Los Angeles office.

 

“I have to say that the boy is perfect for a P-120. Only 18 and SO strong,” said Condy Conty. “I can’t wait till the caning program,” said the 30-year-old with the close-cropped crewcut, a sign in the New United States of America in 2077 that she was a woman who preferred Sapphic sex.

 

“He’s fuckin’ great, isn’t he?” agreed Della, pulling off her black satin, open-nippled bra and stepping out of her crotchless panties.

 

“I think he’s gonna be great when we’ve got him strapped over the flogging horse. And I’ve got a little surprise planned for that show, Condy.”

 

The dark-haired beauty inhaled on her cigarette again. “You and your surprises will be the death of me – it’s nothing that’s gonna get us in trouble with the censorship board, is it?”

 

Della smiled. “No, of course not, and anyway when did the censorship board ever take a case against the Punishment 120 show?” asked the famous presenter.

 

“Point taken, but for chrissakes don’t go and kill the slut,” said Condy, “we’re still up to our ears in complaints after that piss-ducking punishment show went pear-shaped.”

 

Della reached out to switch her director’s image off. “What did I tell you?” she asked. “Use amateur, untrained dommes and you’ll get a fuckin’ accident. No, don’t worry. It’s all under control.”

 

“Make sure it is,” grinned the black 30-year-old. “But also, make sure it’s a pleasant surprise.”

 

“Fuck, Condy,” said Della, “you want it both ways, don’t you? Night.”

 

And with that, she switched off her vid phone, turned to the crew and announced: “Right girls, showers, then we can go party with Priscilla!”

 

The crew was already in the large cocktail lounge when Della arrived with Karla on her arm. Both women wore shimmering black satin dresses that clung to their lush breasts, and whispered around their ankles.

 

Della took a glass of champagne from the Korbel-Krug vineyards in upper California, sipped a quick taste and was approached by the black flogger, Audree and the little blonde, Sadie.

 

Tipping her flute against the pair’s glasses, Della told them: “Here’s to a fuckin’ fantastic start to Jason’s six days’ of misery. You were both lovely.”

 

“It was a pleasure,” said the Amazonian black girl, rubbing her thigh against Della’s satin-sheathed leg. But it was Sadie who Della wanted.

 

“Excuse me a moment, Audree,” said the famed TV presenter, “but I just need a word with Sadie about tomorrow’s action.”

 

And taking the young blonde’s elbow, Della steered her into a corner away from all the chatter going on in mid-room.

 

Della was never one to beat about the bush. She smiled at the pretty kid and said: “I want you, I want you badly. My room at the end of this little booze session, OK?”

 

Sadie grinned a cheeky little grin, which made the rubber-clad minx look irresistible. “What shall I bring?” asked the 18-year-old.

 

“Hard nipples and a wet sex,” laughed Della, steering the Punishment Park guard back towards the throng of champagne sippers.

 

An hour later, when everyone – except Della – had had possibly too much Korbel-Krug, the TV front woman went to her suite. Karla, told her she had been propositioned by the black bird, Audree, who obviously didn’t like to take “No” for an answer, and would most probably spend the night in her quarters.

 

“Enjoy,” whispered Della, as they left the cocktail reception area, “I know I will.”

 

Karla looked at the lovely little Sadie hovering in the background, hissed “Bitch!” to her boss, then walked off arm-in-arm with the black body builder.

 

In her suite, Della turned as she closed the door, bent swiftly, grabbed the hem of Sadie’s rubber dress and hauled it up over her buttocks, then her breasts and head and threw it onto a couch.

 

The barefooted, now totally nude guard in turn unzipped Della’s black satin creation which fell to the lush carpet in a whispering hiss of material. The naked women stepped into each other’s arms and kissed long, and wetly.

 

The lovely TV personality took the leading role, almost by instinct. A shove and the 18-year-old fell onto her back, her bronzed thighs parting immediately, allowing Della oral access to her shaved minge.

 

Della tasted an incredibly succulent quim, wet, moist, inviting and soon her tongue had brought the girl to her first climax of their assignation, a noisy, pounding, thrusting climax as she juddered beneath the 40-year-old’s expert mouth.

 

Clambering up the bed quickly, Della fastened her crotch firmly against the 18-year-old’s mouth and started to graunch and thrust to her own sexual fulfilment.

 

It didn’t take long to reach fulfilment - her scented snatch, the excitement of the day’s events, the floggings, the piss-drinking, the piss-pouring had all aroused the famous sex show presenter to a state of high sexuality.

 

Now Della Domina poured out the lust that had been building in her ever since the naked 18-year-old boy had been dragged yelping, squealing and pleading to his date with domination.

 

And then she was yelling “Coming, you lovely little flogger, flog the kid, flog him, flog, flog” and then her voice went into a higher tone and she was almost screaming “Flog, flog, flog, FLOGGGGGG!” as she came with a heaving shuddering thrust on Sadie’s face.

 

Lying back, enjoying post-coital cigarettes, Della let her hand roam across the girl’s high, firm bust, then down to her shaved snatch, with its slight frosting of golden pubic hair.

 

“Fuck,” she announced, blowing smoke rings, “I needed that!”

 

“Is it hard work?” asked the girl. “Fronting a flogging program, I mean?”

 

Della propped herself up on one elbow and ran a tongue across the girl’s globes from erect nipple to erect nipple.

 

“Guess it depends on what you mean by ‘hard work’,” said Della. “I just love watching a slave get his, and watching a pretty boy like that cunt Jason suffering under the lash sure beats whipping some of the tired old hags I used to work over in Chicago.

 

“But you have to keep coming up with new ideas to keep it a fun-filled hour and a half.”

 

Sadie raised her eyebrows. “Yep, I’ve seen that – most of those sex shows on the Sinema channel are an hour, how did you get it up to 90 minutes?”

 

Della sucked on her cigarette, and pondered. “I argued with the board of directors that I wanted to make Punishment 120 something special,” she told the girl.

 

“The format I pitched means the program runs for 90 minutes, but after each 15-minute of cockslut torture, there’s a three-minute ads break. We have to pay for the show!

 

“So there’s 15 minutes where we show the slave being strapped down, then we introduce the floggers. Then an ad break.

 

“The next 15 minutes shows him being forced to drink my piss – well, a secret here, it’s mine and Karla’s. Some humiliating chatter, pictures of the floggers, their naked bodies, the whips, you get the picture.

 

“Then there’s another ad break, then we go into the flogging segment. That occupies two 15-minute slots, so his 2-hour whip torture is cut into 30 minutes.

 

 

 

“All of which leads us to the final segment, the urine-on-his-wounds part, I announce the things that the punters want to know, number of strokes, number of glasses of piss drunk and so on, and then a little final humiliation chat and that’s a wrap!”

 

Sadie nodded. “So each program shows 75 minutes of torture and 15 minutes of ads. I could live with that, very fair.”

 

“Now,” said Della, “enough about my program. How did you get to become a Punishment Park guard – you’re only 18 for fuck’s sake!”

 

Sadie smiled. “Sure, but there’s two girls who are 17, you know, and even one aged 16.”

 

Della nodded. “I love that little 16-year-old, she’s such a tease. But tell me, how did you get to work here?”

 

Sadie stubbed out her cigarette and snuggled into Della’s strong arms. “My mom was raped three years ago,” she said, quietly. “By a fuckin’ escaped cockslut.”

 

“Where?” asked Della, in a soft, tender voice.

 

“Tucson, my home town,” said Sadie. “The bastard was executed, of course, after he had received the statutory 1000-cuts of the wire lash. But that doesn’t help mom. She’s a recluse now, stays home, keeps the blinds drawn.

 

“Hates men so much she can’t even bear the thought of applying for a cockslut slave, who are, as I guess you know, free to women who have been raped.”

 

“And?” said Della, stroking Sadie’s breasts with one hand, her pussy lips with the other.

 

“I was 15 at the time,” said Sadie, “and I vowed I’d get my revenge on men, silly maybe, but when I was 17 and fed up with school, I saw an advertisement for this place.

 

“It was intriguing – well, it interested me, I just knew that I would love it.

 

‘Ladies, aged 16 and up, athletic bodies, strong arms, needed to train cocksluts at an establishment being set up for the Sex Sinema TV channel’, or words to that effect.

 

“And what else? ‘No experience required, on-site training in fresh air, all food found’.”

 

Della’s mouth closed on the girl’s. “And the wages?” she inquired, when they broke for breath.

 

Sadie laughed. “Fuck, I didn’t even ask.”

 

Then, as she inserted another cigarette into her mouth and flamed it, the guard-cum-flogger turned serious.

 

“Now, one of your crew – Claudia? The black girl? She said you’ve got a surprise planned for Jase’s ass whipping tomorrow. Correct?”

 

Della nodded. “Correct, can you keep a secret?”

 

Sadie nodded enthusiastically.

 

Della told her.

 

“Fuck,” said the pretty little blonde guard, “I like the sound of THAT!”

 

 

To be continued.

 

 

                             PUNISHMENT 120 – Part 7, the director’s cut

 

Della chose her outfit for cockslut Jason’s ass whipping with care. She had been bare-nippled and showed her pudenda for his first day, now she wanted a different, a more HAUGHTY look.

 

The lush-breasted 40-year-old blonde-haired beauty pulled on a black leather, quarter-cup bra, which lifted her big mounds of breasts into stunning, suckable uplift.

 

Around her hips she buckled a matching black leather belt and into a loop on her right hip she slipped a single-tailed lash. She wore black boots which came to half-way up her lovely thighs, the same pair as the day before.

 

Then, to conclude her outfit – apart from the obligatory stetson to keep the sun’s rays off her head and face – she pulled on a light leather jacket, which gave off a dull lustre. At the rear it came to just above her buttock cheeks, and the front to navel level so her pussy was totally exposed.

 

Della stepped out into the sunshine and noted with approval that the 18-year-old was already in place across the flogging horse, a leather piece of equipment, which had four sturdy wooden legs, to which his ankles and wrists were strapped.

 

His buttocks jutted up invitingly, the dildo buried in his anus easily discernible as was the prickle pouch encasing his balls in their vicious grip.

 

Della walked over to where Karla stood with her clipboard, pen and vid phone. “The girls are ready?” asked the famous TV sex show presenter, and Karla nodded.

 

“I want them pictured emerging from the bunker, and then the camera will pan back in front of them until they’re in front of cockslut here,” Della told her production assistant.

 

“They’re ready for the shot,” said Karla, nodding over to where the camerawomen were waiting outside the bunker’s metal door.

 

Della checked her electronic Rolex Oyster, saw it read 8.59am, which meant that the slut had been put in place early for his eight-hour ordeal. Next she checked his buttocks and saw that the height of the flogging horse had been carefully adjusted to provide perfect tension on his buttock cheeks.

 

Then she surveyed his back, which was still criss-crossed with welts and weals, but looked surprisingly good compared with its battered and bloody condition the previous evening. The balms and salves they use here, she thought, are so effective!

 

“Right,” snapped Della, “let’s get this show on the road. Action!”

 

From the bunker emerged two busty brunettes, their young bodies gleaming with suntan lotion. Both had firm breasts with dark brown, erect nipples. They had strong thighs and shapely calves and their pussies were totally shaved in the New American fashion – the term “Brazilian” had long been banned as being unpatriotic.

 

On their feet were gleaming white Adinikes – the shoe companies had merged years ago to form a global monopoly and gone with the capital “A” after the old adidas lower case “a”– and little ankle-height white sox. Both were carrying slender, whippy canes.

 

But the thing that made them different from other flogging teams Della had chosen for the Punishment 120 program was their hairstyles. Their long brown hair was gathered in two long pigtails, which bounced down across their busts as they jogged down towards the strapped-down Jason.

 

As they neared the bondaged cockslut, Della moved forward and when the girls had come to a panting halt from their run, the 40-year-old presenter announced: “And now, making their Punishment 120 debuts allow me to introduce the Cropp twins!”

 

Then, from the vid phone being held by Karla, Della heard a shout coming from a voice she recognised as that of her director, Condy Conty.

 

“Hold it,” snapped the woman back in New Los Angeles, “cut, cut, fuckin’ CUT!”

 

Della smiled at the Cropp twins, said “Hold one, we appear to have a slight problem”.

 

Moving so she was in view of the vid phone, Della spoke to her director. “Just what’s the fuckin’ matter, Condy?”

 

She saw her director, clad in one of her shiny red rubber playsuits, which exposed her big breasts, in her “Sin City” headquarters.

 

“Just what the fuck’s going on here, Della?” snapped the black woman. “These kids – how old are they? They look fuckin’ 14 to me!”

 

Della sighed. “Condy, Condy, they’re not 14, they’re both 16, which you would have found out if you’d let me go on with the pre-whipping interview.”

 

Condy looked slightly appeased. “You got their ages on record?”

 

Della nodded. “Sure, born in Phoenix, Arizona, in April, 2061. I’ve also got their high school files, they both attend Desert Vista High School, Phoenix, and they’re members of the school flog team.

 

“You got a problem with that?”

 

Condy looked a little happier. “Well, you know they’re doing the ass whipping segment. Can they control themselves? We don’t want ‘em cutting the cunt in half!”

 

Della grinned. “Look, so they’re 16, we’ve got a 16-year-old guard here does floggings, we’ve used her before in a P-120, remember?

 

“And anyway, these girls are experienced whip mistresses. Why don’t you talk to them, they’ll convince you. They’re smarter than a whip, pardon my pun.”

 

Condy actually laughed. “OK, Della, you smooth-talking bitch, put ‘em on, but I warn you, if they don’t satisfy me you find two more mature floggers for this lad’s ass!”

 

Della stepped back allowing the two youngsters to be seen by Condy Conty back in New Los Angeles.

 

“Girls, this is my boss, Condy Conty,” she said. “Condy, one of ‘em’s Sammy, the other’s Tammy, but don’t ask me which is which.”

 

The girls looked at the bare-breasted black bird, and one chirped: “Hi, Mizz Condy, I’m Sammy, you can tell by the little mole by my right nipple, see?”

 

And the girl almost pressed her large bosom against the vid phone’s screen.

 

Then Tammy broke in. “Hi Mizz Condy, I’m Tammy, and please let us flog Jason here, he’s so cute, and we’re good, we’re really good, oh please, pleeeeeeease!”

 

Condy was smiling now, Della saw, obviously somewhat disarmed by the teenagers’ enthusiasm.

 

“Right now girls,” said Condy, “tell me about your high school flogging team. How long you been on it? How you train? Shoot.”

 

The twin with the mole, Sammy, spoke first. “We’ve been on the school flogging team for almost a year, Mizz Condy. And we’re off to the NHSFC next month, and they reckon we’re a big chance!”

 

Condy’s eyebrows raised slightly. “The NHSFCs?”

 

Tammy took up the conversation. “The National High School Flogging Championships, we’re the western division champions, you know.”

 

“I’m sure you are, my dear,” said the TV director. “Now, how do you train?”

 

Sammy answered. “There’s a juvenile cockslut detention facility on the outskirts of Phoenix, ma’am, and every week our coach takes us there and we work out on the young sluts there. We’re supervised by the facility’s dominatrix-in-charge, she gives us all the tips.”

 

“But we also discipline our daddy,” said Tammy.

 

“You do?” asked Condy, really interested now. “Where? How often?”

 

Sammy replied this time. “Daddy’s been sold by mom to a really rich Phoenix socialite, and each week she allows us to visit him and punish him for his demerit marks.”

 

“What happened last week?” asked a now extremely interested TV director.

 

“Well,” said Tammy, “he’d been a really naughty boy ...”

 

“Silly,” giggled Sammy, “he’s 40-years-old!”

 

Tammy laughed. “Sorry, but he’s just like a naughty boy to me. Anyway, he’d incurred 490 demerit marks and so we had to give him 490 strokes.”

 

“Mizz Dempster has a specially-equipped torture chamber,” Sammy chipped in, “and we deal to him there while Mizz Dempster films it.”

 

“And how did you break up the strokes?” asked Condy, and Della just knew that out of camera range the beautiful, busty bird was probably fingering herself.

 

“We gave him 100 on his back, 100 on his buttocks, 100 on his upper chest and 190 on his cock and balls,” said Sammy.

 

“Ouch,” said Condy, “bet he hasn’t got it back up yet!”

 

Everyone, Della included, laughed.

 

“And then,” said Tammy, “afterwards he has to thank us for his punishment.”

 

“Thank you?” said Condy.

 

“Yes,” said Sammy. “First he has to drink our pee pee, then we make him lick us so we go all nice and gooey down there.”

 

“Quite,” said the woman back in the New Los Angeles headquarters.

 

Then the TV director spoke again, she’d obviously made up her mind.

 

“OK, now one last question, girls. You are aware of our 10-stroke per minute limit for the P-120 punishment, right?”

 

Both girls nodded, their pigtails twirling. “Sure,” said Tammy, “Mizz Della told us, but it won’t be a problem. You see we use the tap, tap, tap, thwack method of delivery, ma’am.”

 

Condy looked puzzled. “Explain.”

 

Sammy did. “We give the slut one tap, two taps, three taps, and then – thwack, we burn his ass good. But the way we do it, we don’t deliver more than six strokes a minute. That’s National High School Flogging Team rules, ma’am.”

 

Della interrupted. “That’s six strokes a minute, which makes a total of 720 strokes for two hours, but what with me giving him regular urine drink stops, well it will be down below that.

 

“Come on, Condy, that’s less than 700 strokes, and you know they’re gonna be good. Fuck, think of the fan mail they’ll get, not to mention the ratings!”

 

The director relented. “OK, Della, you win,” she smiled. “But watch ‘em like a hawk, I don’t want any fuck ups, specially since that piss punishment drowning.”

 

“You’ve got it, Condy. OK girls, thank my boss,” said Della, and the girls squealed, clapped their hands and jumped up and down in front of the vid phone.

 

“Now, get on with the interview,” said Condy Conty. “Oh, and Della – sorry about the director’s ‘cut’!”

 

Della smiled. “No problem, now we’ll shoot the interview.”

 

The interview along much the same lines as that between the girls and Condy Conty, but at the end, Sammy spoke to Della.

 

“Mistress Della, may we send a message to all our girlfriends at Desert Vista High on the flogging team and at school?” she asked.

 

“Go ahead,” said Della, “be my guest.”

 

Then Sammy turned her back to the camera, placed her sneaker-shod feet wide apart, then bent over at the waist so her thick labia and gleaming sex were blatantly exposed to the cameras.

 

Tammy stood off to one side, placed the whip cane, once, twice, three times on her twin sister’s pert ass, then brought it down quickly but halted inches from the lovely flesh.

 

As she did, the 16-year-old called out: “Tap, tap, tap, thwack – go Desert Vista High!”

 

Then they swapped places and Sammy repeated the same words as she tapped her twin’s ass.

 

Finally, both girls stood facing the cameras, holding their whip canes high above their heads, gripping them at the handle and the tips.

 

Suddenly, both girls started shaking their upper bodies so their breasts bounced in delicious movements. As they did they shouted “Tap, tap, tap, thwack, Desert Vista High, go Thunderers!”

 

Over the vid phone Della could see a puzzled Condy Conty.

 

“What,” she asked, “the fuck was all that about?”

 

“Don’t ask,” grinned Dellla, “I think it must be some high school thing!”

 

To be continued.

 

 

 

                                  PUNISHMENT 120 – Part 8, ass whipping

 

Della had been pleased with the way the interview had gone for the pre-flogging segment on day two of Jason’s six-day ordeal but she was even more pleased by some ingenuity shown by the Cropp twins, Sammy and Tammy.

 

The lovely blonde presenter had interviewed the girls, then addressed Jason.

 

“And tell me, cockslut,” she smiled at him, as he lay bound and sweating across the flogging horse, “how are you looking forward to your ass being whipped by these two busty high school kids?”

 

“I think they are gonna be hard on me, Mistress Della,” said the blonde-haired boy, in a strong voice. Della was pleased about that – it meant she didn’t have to call for a re-shoot of the question and answer.

 

“But first they’re gonna be nice to you, cockslut cunt,” said Della.

 

At her instruction, while she was chatting with the lad in his bonds, the twins had gone to the canteen to fetch a jug of Della’s fresh urine, “blended”, of course, with Karla’s first pee of the day.

 

“Now, Sammy,” said the long-legged domina, “give him a nice refreshing glass of water.”

 

The girl poured the piss, the slave drank.

 

“And now you, Tammy, he obviously liked the first glass so much, let him have a refill.”

 

Again piss was poured, again the slave drank.

 

“Can we give him another little gift before we leave him for the rest of his two hours on the horse, Mistress Della?” asked Tammy – at least, Della thought it was Tammy.

 

“Sure, I’m sure you’d like that, wouldn’t you Jase?” asked Della, in a laughing tone.

 

“Yes, thank-you, mistress,” the lad muttered.

 

Della watched with a cruel smile on her lips as Tammy stood in front of the teenager she and her sister would soon be flogging, ran the three middle fingers of her right hand through her sex trench, and pressed them against Jason’s pouting mouth.

 

“Suck ‘em, slave!” she commanded, and the boy eagerly complied.

 

Then, when Tammy was certain he’d got all the sex juice taste from her fingers, Sammy stepped in front of him and repeated the finger-to-pussy action and pressed her fingers into his mouth.

 

“Wonderful,” smiled Della. “Well, it’s 9.45 now, Jase, so you’ve got an hour and a quarter to think about things before I let the Cropp twins work you over. Relax, it won’t be long!”

 

The camerawomen indicated they had good shots, and the team departed for the canteen and coffee and cookies.

 

As Claudia, the sound technician, and the three camerawomen chatted to the juvenile floggers, Della took Karla to one side.

 

“I have a feeling about these two youngsters,” said Della.

 

“Thought you might,” said Karla, tartly. “You wanna fuck ‘em don’t you?”

 

Della grinned. “The thought had crossed my mind,” she admitted, “but on a purely professional basis for a minute, Karla, you filthy-minded little slut, what do you say we allow them – not during the flogging, but in the two-hours segment before the piss-pouring – to get them to provide him with the glasses of our piss?”

 

Karla pondered. “You’re the star, well, you and the floggers and the slave, I guess, Della. But if you’re happy with that, sure, it might help. Schoolkids force cockslut slave to drink piss. Yep, why not? Go for it.

 

“As long as you’re not scared of ‘em taking over from you.”

 

“Good,” said Della, looking at her Rolex, “I’m glad you agree with me. Now it’s almost 10.30, what say we get one of ‘em to go out now and give him a top-up?”

 

Karla smiled. “Why not both of ‘em?”

 

Della ran her hand over her assistant’s lush left breast. “Fuck, Karla, if I don’t watch out it’ll be you taking over from me!”

 

Della and Karla watched with interest from the large bay window of the canteen as the sound woman and the three camera operatives walked out to where Jason lay bound, then filmed as the twins enjoyed themselves making him drink more piss.

 

Then they repeated their pussy stroking and offered their fingers to the lad for oral cleaning.

 

“Great pictures,” murmured Della. “If only they’re as good with the whips!”

 

But Della had no need for concern over that score!

 

Jason, in the tradition of all Punishment 120 programs was made to count down the last 10 seconds until 11am and then plead with his teenaged mistresses to “please whip my ass!”

 

And as she watched the twins perform their “tap, tap, tap, thwack” routine, Della soon realised that the young ladies were experts in their field. Youthful, indeed, but deliciously sadistic.

 

They started off with Tammy off to the left of Jason’s ass, the whip cane in her right hand. “Tap, tap, tap” she called out, and then her twin, off to Jason’s right with the cane in her left hand came in with “Thwack!”

 

The first stroke left a vivid red stripe across the boy’s buttocks.

 

Again, Tammy went “Tap, tap, tap” and again Sammy came in with her “Thwack”. This time, Della noticed, the stroke was slightly harder.

 

 

 

The flagellation was only two strokes old, but Della’s right hand was already stroking her pussy. She pulled up a canvas chair and sat in it, her right thigh splayed on the arm of the chair, providing easier access to her weeping cunt.

 

The third “Thwack” from Sammy was the hardest blow of all, drawing a slight grunt from the cockslut.

 

Then, the final three strokes of the first minute to the original intensities – the first stroke striped him, the second was harder, the third a grunt-inducing sweep.

 

The next minute had Sammy doing the “Tap, tap, tap” routine on the boy’s buttocks, with Tammy cracking home the “Thwack” strokes.

 

The third minute was another variation. Tammy did a “Tap” stroke, not hurting at all, of course, then Sammy placed a “Tap” on him, then Tammy a third “Tap” before Sammy came in with her “Thwack”.

 

The fourth minute reversed the routine. Sammy did “Tap” on one and three, while Tammy did “Tap” number two and the fourth, pain-inflicting “Thwack”.

 

Just to keep the lad guessing, the fifth minute was all Tammy. She went “Tap, tap, tap” and also laid on the “Thwack” for six strokes. The sixth minute was the opposite – all Sammy.

 

“You girls have obviously rehearsed this,” said Della, her climax nearing, as she watched the twins prepare for the seventh minute of Jason’s pain-filled 120.

 

“We did a bit,” laughed Tammy. “Mizz Dempster allowed us a go on daddy’s butt yesterday. It was FUN!”

 

Della laughed too. “I bet it was. Any more variations, girls?”

 

Tammy nodded. “Can we order him to call out, Mistress Della?”

 

“Sure,” said Della, grunting now as her climax neared. Penny, she noticed, had her close-up camera fixed on the fingers flying at her crotch.

 

“OK, Jase, you know the fuckin’ drill by now,” Tammy ordered the boy. “Call out ‘Tap, tap, tap’ and when it comes to the thwack you will say ‘Thwack please, mistress’, got it?”

 

“Yes, mistresses,” said the sweating, striped-buttock bound boy in obedient reply.

 

And as Jason intoned “Tap, tap, tap” and finally “Thwack please, mistress” Della felt her self-imposed orgasm sweep through her, faithfully recorded by not only Penny’s close-up camera, but also the other two!

 

Ten minutes into the youngster’s ordeal, Della left her canvas chair, entered the canteen, then re-emerged with a jug of urine and two large glasses. Passing them to the twins, she resumed her seat and watched as the boy’s forced ingestion of urine was captured by the cameras.

 

For several more minutes, Jason called out for his punishment, until after about 20 minutes of his whip session, one of the girls – Della still wasn’t sure which was which – snapped: “Oh shut the fuck up, you cunt. I’m tired of hearing your constant whining pleas for pain!”

 

Then, the girl on the left nodded to the twin on the right. The “Tap, tap, tap” routine was delivered by the 16-year-old off to his right, then, with a slashing, sweeping, soaring stroke with her left hand the whip can slashed into his buttocks with the most searing shot of the morning.

 

“Aieeeeeee” came the scream from the shocked, strapped down cockslut, and Della nodded with approval. The first scream was recorded at 21 minutes and had come, Karla informed her boss, before his first tears, an unusual, though not unheard of occurrence during a P-120.

 

Now the twin team changed over, so they switched whip hands. They also varied the “Tap, tap, tap, thwack” routine so as to keep the slave guessing.

 

Sometimes the four-stroke routine would go “Tap, tap, thwack, tap”, at other times “Thwack, tap, tap, tap” and sometimes “Tap, thwack, tap tap”. All the time they switched the tempo, never letting the now sobbing cockslut work out when the painful “Thwack” would arrive.

 

After two more drink breaks, Della saw that the boy’s bum was starting to blister. Some of the welts were now seeping blood. The girls’ attentions had him constantly sobbing, and screams of “Aieeee” were interspersed by more urgent cries of “Arrrrrgh” as the teenaged tormentresses did their wicked work.

 

At last it was over, but the girls decided they wanted to humiliate – and torture – the lad for one final time before letting him lie gasping across the horse for two more agonising hours.

 

One leaned and whispered to Della, still sitting in her canvas chair, still idly stroking her minge.

 

“May we do pee pee on his botty?” she asked. And Della had to laugh.

 

“Fuck me, Tammy,” she started.

 

But the girl corrected her: “It’s Sammy.” Then pointed to her mole by her nipple.

 

“Sorry, Sammy,” said Della, “but here you are, naked as a jaybird, you’ve been flogging him for two hours, yet you still use words like ‘pee pee’ and ‘botty’. You’re a pair of fuckin’ hoots!”

 

 “Well, can we Mizz Della?” asked the other girl, obviously Tammy.

 

“Sure,” said Della. “Only make sure you have some good dialogue. Ladies, get ready for one final shoot before we break.”

 

The camerawomen prepared themselves, then Sammy stood in front of Jason.

 

“OK, cunt,” she said, looking down at his tear-streaked face. “Now sis and me’s busting to go pee pee, and you’re the target. Tammy – let loose on the cunt!”

 

The other twin was standing behind Jason, her calves pressed against his and she stuck her posterior out, then, with a grunt of relief, released a steady, strong stream of dark yellow piss onto his battered bum.

 

“Yaieeeeee!” the tortured cockslut screamed, in a higher-pitched, stronger scream than anything which had preceded it.

 

At last the 16-year-old’s urine flow dribbled down to a few drips, then her sister took her place and loosed a similar stream of piss onto the slave’s backside. Her piss striking the bloodied buttocks produced yet more squealing and screaming from the slut.

 

“And now,” said Della, standing in front of the slave once more, “we’ll leave you to your own devices before the horse’s piss.

 

“Don’t run away now, you hear?”

 

And with giggles, the group left for the canteen.

 

But Della was in no mood to make small talk over lunch, even though she knew the talk would mainly be based around how well the Cropp twins had punished the slut.

 

Leaning to whisper into one of the twins’ ears – she couldn’t see their breasts to know which one – Della said: “Come straight to my suite, we must talk.”

 

The pair followed the leggy blonde beauty and Karla looked a knowing “I know what the fuck you’re up to” look at her boss, but went with the crew into the Punishment Park canteen.

 

Inside the suite, Della slipped her leather jacket off, and stood, booted, quarter-cup brassiered and belted in front of the twins.

 

“Get on with it,” she hissed, hoping the twins would take the hint.

 

They did.

 

The girl with the breast mole – Sammy – fell to her knees in front of Della’s pussy and soon her young mouth was slurping and slavering at the 40-year-old’s minge.

 

As Sammy performed that act, Tammy rubbed her breasts against Della’s back, then slid them down her body, over her buttocks, and soon Tammy’s tongue was slipping between the TV star’s buttocks.

 

Parting the lovely cheeks with her hand, Tammy soon had her tongue lapping at Della’s anal whorl. That, decided the P-120 front woman, was fun. But even more fun was what the other girl was doing at her sopping snatch.

 

Suddenly things changed. It seemed to Della that she was out of control, but the twins certainly weren’t. Tammy had risen, pressing her upper body against Della’s back and was pulling her backwards, towards the large bed.

 

Sammy rose slightly and pushed her head into Della’s firm, flat belly and then the most famous flagellation show presenter in the New United States of America found herself on her back on the bed, with a teenaged twin lapping at her quim.

 

Then things went dark. They went dark, because Tammy’s pussy lowered itself onto Della’s mouth and the 40-year-old tasted the raw, but tasty, sex juice, intermingled with the slightly bitter but exciting tang of recently passed urine.

 

As she was licking and sucking away at the New American-style shaved snatch, Della realised that Sammy was bringing her close to sexual relief, and the most mature woman of the trio wrapped her lush thighs around Sammy’s head and trapped her busily working mouth against her pussy.

 

“Yeah, she’s coming,” Tammy announced from above Della’s face, and then the TV presenter’s pussy pounded to its shuddering climax as Sammy’s oral attentions concentrated on the woman’s clitoris.

 

Soon, the facesitting twin was also panting to her climax, and then she climbed off Della’s sweaty, sex-smeared face.

 

But the girl had barely been gone seconds, than Sammy was shouting “Now me, Della, don’t fuckin’ forget me!” and again a teenaged minge was mashing its moist loveliness against Della’s mouth.

 

Finally, after only a matter of a minute or two, Della had found the lovely lass’s clit and then Sammy had joined the other two in shouting out her joy as the orgasm rushed through her crotch.

 

Della pushed the 16-year-old from her and unclipped her bra, then unbuckled her belt, and finally kicked off her boots.

 

“And now I think we all need to shower before we go to lunch,” the TV presenter told her newest flagellation team.

 

“I’ve already eaten,” joked Sammy, but Della waved a warning finger at her and soon all three were soaping each other’s bodies in the capacious shower.

 

At 3pm, the camera crew, Della, Karla and the Cropp twins returned to the sweating slave.

 

For two hours, the 16-year-olds tipped urine onto his blazing buttocks, while Della contented herself with forcing the lad to quaff down at least six glasses of urine.

 

After her announcements to satisfy the demands of the DAB authorities – one of the major sponsors of P-120 - Della closed the show down, not with a chat to the lad, despite the fact that his screams had died down about 20 minutes before he was freed from the horse, but the Cropp twins.

 

“Well, Sammy, Tammy,” said Della, back now in her quarter-cup bra, belt, boots and leather jacket, “how much fun was that?”

 

The girls both giggled high schoolish giggles, then Sammy spoke: “We’ve never had so much fun with our clothes off, Mistress Della, thank-you so much.”

 

Della turned to the audience. “Well, P-120 fans, that’s it for now. Be sure to join us for the next episode when we see how much of a mess we can make with cockslut here’s thighs.

 

“And from me Della Domina and the Cropp twins, and yep, I think we’ll be seeing them again, it’s goodbye from another episode of Punishment 120!”

 

The twins waved, one on each side of their blonde presenter, and after a minute to allow the credits to be superimposed on the shot, the medium-camerawoman Jenna called “That’s it!”

 

Back inside her suite, Della and Karla showered together prior to the obligatory post-flogging cocktail party.

 

When they had towelled down and put their cocktail dresses on, a call came on the vid phone.

 

It was Condy Conty, looking very happy indeed.

 

“Della, you were right – they were fuckin’ perfect,” she said. “I’ve just flicked through some of the rushes and it’s gonna be a hit! Bravo.

 

“Now, sit down, I’ve got something to tell you you’re not gonna like!”

 

 

To be continued.

 

 

 

 

                            PUNISHMENT 120 – Part 9, a PR exercise

 

“Good, are you sitting comfortably?” asked the big-breasted TV director. “Then I’ll begin.”

 

Della sat up on her bed, drawing her knees up to her chin, oblivious to the fact that in doing so she was displaying her sex cleft to the vid phone. She didn’t give a fuck!

 

“All right,” said the tight-lipped TV presenter, “don’t tell me, let me guess. This is all about my once-a-month performance for Sex Sinema, isn’t it?”

 

Condy Conty laughed. “Darling, you make it sound worse than your period.”

 

“It’s amazing, isn’t it,” said Della, lighting a cigarette. “The medical experts have solved the dilemma of cancer, but they can’t find a way to prevent us females from having our curse once a month.”

 

Condy smiled at her superstar. “Sorry, darl, but as you well know it’s in the contract. Once a month you must do something to promote the show, and I’ve organised for a shoot to be arranged with some fans.

 

“It’s over to you. You can do it tonight, or tomorrow night, one or the other, that’s the only times we can get the women all on line at the same time. What’s it to be, Della?”

 

“What’s it fuckin’ involve?” asked Della Domina, sucking harshly on her cigarette and snorting a strong pair of twin plumes from her flaring nostrils.

 

“It’s an interview with you, presided over by Caroline Clitorides on the Sex Sinema Magazine and it’s only for an hour – make that 48 minutes with the four 3-minute advertising slots taken out.”

 

Della’s face turned sour, if such a beautiful face could ever be termed “sour”.

 

“Caroline fuckin’ Clitorides?” she sneered. “That bitch hates my guts, has ever since I got the job fronting Punishment 120.”

 

“We all know that, darl,” said Condy Conty, as soothingly as possible, “but the powers-that-be thought it would make for better television that way. More sparks, I think they put it.”

 

Della sighed. “All right, all right, let’s do it tonight, the sooner the better and get it out of the fuckin’ way. Where does she want me?”

 

Condy Conty smiled a wicked smile. “I’ve told her that you’ve got a stunning young slut as the subject of the latest P-120 and she asks if you’d like to sit on the queening throne in the main torture chamber and make him lick your pussy while she conducts the interview, and introduces your fans with their questions.”

 

Della smiled at last. “You know something, Condy, perhaps I was wrong after that Clitorides cunt, after all. I rather like the idea. Yeah, let’s do it. I’ll get him organised, and the crew set up. What time?”

 

“8pm, then you can have a nice relaxing meal after, because I know you’ve got to go to that cocktail party first,” said Condy. “And Della?”

 

“Yeah?” asked the lovely presenter.

 

“Your fans will expect you to wear something sexy for the interview.”

 

Della returned to her stage sigh. “Oh fuck, Condy, don’t I always?”

 

At the cocktail party, Della informed Melody, Jenna and Penny that there was to be an interview done in the main torture chamber and to set up and be ready there by 7.45pm.

 

Then she grabbed Priscilla. “I need the young slut Jason to lie under me in the queening throne in the main torture chamber,” she explained, “something I just can’t get out of. Can he be there by 7.45?”

 

Priscilla looked at her watch. “Sure, he should have had his ass medically cleansed by then, and he’ll probably like the idea of licking your sex,” she grinned.

 

“I don’t give a flying fuck whether he likes it or not,” snapped Della, still pissed at the thought of having to give the interview, “just as long as I do!”

 

Excusing herself from the company of the twins and some Punishment Park executives, Della went to her suite and stripped naked. For the interview, she decided to wear a black leather military-style cap, with a gleaming brim, a black PVC quarter-cup bra, high-heeled shoes and nothing else.

 

After brushing her lovely golden hair till it shone, the superstar – who was unusual as a TV front-liner in that she eschewed personal hangers-on like make-up artists and hair stylists – walked to the main torture chamber in the large complex that was Punishment Park’s main building.

 

Inside the sumptuously-appointed torture room, Della found that her three camerawomen had set up their equipment, with Claude organising the sound.

 

Lying on his back, his upper body, shoulders and head covered by the large, leather-padded queening throne, was Jason. His cock was flaccid. Della hoped her pussy might make a difference to its attitude.

 

“Right team,” said Della, settling down on the throne, “sorry about this, but it’s one of those fuckin’ once-a-month rituals. I’ll make sure you each get a bonus for having to be here.”

 

Then she peered down in the gap between her thighs and saw Jason’s jaw. “You’re gonna eat me, cunt,” she snapped, “only nothing too fast. I want to time my orgasms to coincide with the ad breaks. I’ll let you know when that’s arrived, although if you pay careful attention you’re probably hear well enough.”

 

“Yes, mistress, thank-you mistress, I love you mistress,” said the obedient slut beneath Della’s pussy.

 

“Oh don’t lay it on with a fuckin’ trowel, cockslut,” said the delicious dominatrix, although secretly she felt pleased at his “I love you” words.

 

“We’re ready to link up with Sin City now,” said Melody, “you ready for a pre-show chat with the cunt bitch?”

 

Della laughed. Caroline Clitorides was not the most popular presenter in the Sex Sinema outfit, a fact which both she and Caroline knew. But, Della had to confess, she was a good interviewer.

 

She settled on the throne and snapped: “Hook her up to us, team, and cunt licker, get started!”

 

Jason’s young tongue had just started to work over Della’s minge, starting at her anus and working forward via cunt and labia to clitoris, when Karla’s vid phone showed the pretty, 25-year-old Sex Sinema interviewer on screen.

 

“Hi, Della,” said Caroline, cheerily, “tres nice outfit!”

 

“Always for you, my dear,” said Della, tartly.

 

“And Condy tells me you’ve got a stunning new sex slave for the latest P-120?” said Caroline.

 

“Sure,” said Della, “and right now he’s lying underneath this queening throne servicing me, as it were. That’s a lovely touch, Caroline, you did well!”

 

“Always your best interests at heart,” said Caroline.

 

“I know, you’re a pet,” said Della. “Now, when are we ready to roll? And how many of my adoring fans you got lined up for me?”

 

Caroline checked her crib sheet. “We can go whenever you’re ready, and there’s five lined up, but depending on time we may only get around to four. All of ‘em nice ladies, all of ‘em crazy about you.”

 

“Let’s do it,” said Della, lighting a smoke.

 

“Opening credits rolling,” said Caroline Clitorides. “I’m introducing you in 10 seconds.”

 

And this is how the program went:

 

 

 

Caroline: Good evening, sexy women of New America, and welcome to another edition of Sex Sinema Magazine with me, Caroline Clitorides. Tonight, we have an exclusive interview with that delicious domme, Della Domina, star of our top-rated Punishment 120 and then some lucky, hand-picked ladies from across New America will be able to ask her some REALLY personal questions about the show and her part in it. First up, Della, you’re looking lovely tonight. And how is New America’s favorite domme?

 

Della: I don’t know Caroline, I haven’t asked her. Oh, you mean little me? You’re TOO kind. Very well indeed, Caroline and needless to say it’s great to be on your wonderful show.

 

Caroline: Tell us where you are right now and what you’re working on.

 

Della: The P-120 crew and I are at Punishment Park and we’ve shot two episodes for chapter 8 in the show’s latest series.

 

Caroline: And I understand you’ve got a yummy young cockslut for this chapter?

 

Della: Sure have, Caroline. In fact he’s here with us right now, lying underneath this queening throne I’m sitting on.

 

Caroline: He is? Perhaps one of your camerawomen could pan back and let us see him?

 

Della: Sure, that can be arranged.

 

Caroline: Wow, this young stud’s been ass whipped today but he can still provide a fuckin’ yummy boner like that? Shoot, I wouldn’t mind him beneath my bed at night!

 

Della: I’m sure THAT can be arranged, too, Caroline.

 

Caroline: Right, now without further ado, Della, let’s call on our first questioner tonight, a lady from Boise, Idaho. Go ahead, caller.

 

Caller: Hi Della, love the show, this is Stella from Boise.

 

Della: Hi, Stella, what’s your question?

 

Caller: Of all the six floggings, which are the ones the slaves fear the most?

 

Della: Well, we interview the slaves after their ordeals, and without a doubt the cock and ball flogging is the most stringent, followed closely by the upper back and the buttocks. The least feared – although, of course, they fear them all to a certain extent – is the upper front of the chest and the thighs, front and back.

 

Caller: Yes, speaking of thighs, I did read an article in a video paper the other day, Torture Times I think it was, which suggested that you were going to combine the backs and fronts of the thighs into one torture and possibly come up with a replacement, such as a flogging “free for all”. Care to comment, Della?

 

Della: Well, I’m not going to comment on speculation in a vidpap, even one as prestigious as Torture Times, as to any changes in the show’s format, but I will say this. We at P-120 are always on the look-out for improvements in the show and if we come up with any new flogging ideas that work, we’ll use them. But as they used to say last century, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it”.

 

Caroline: Thank-you very much, Stella from Boise, and now we’re going to take a break. When we come back we’ll find out if Della’s come on her cockslut’s face yet, and go to another caller. Don’t go away now!

 

[Commercial break]

 

Caroline: Well Della, anything to report on the cum front?

 

Della: A very nice, quiet but satisfying orgasm while you were away, Caroline, and if we just pan down to the slut’s cock, you can see he most definitely enjoyed bringing it to me.

 

Caroline: Wowzer, what a lovely cock that youngster’s got, Della. Pity you’re gonna get it flogged to shreds! Now, to our next caller, Adreena, from Modern Mexico, our 51st and newest state. Go ahead, Adreena and welcome to the union!

 

Caller: Thanks, Caroline. Della, can we talk piss?

 

Della: Be my guest, Adreena.

 

Caller: Do you set out with any pre-conceived idea of how many glasses your slaves must drink down during an eight-hour session? They seem to vary, but one poor cunt had to swallow 23, which from memory is a record.

 

Della: Yes, I remember, the big black man in our second show of the current series, wasn’t it? Well, it was obvious from the way he groaned and grimaced and moaned on after his first glass that he totally fuckin’ hated drinking my lovely gift of golden nectar, that I decided to push him as far as I could. But no, generally speaking, I go with the flow.

 

Caller: Nice pun.

 

Della: And intended.

 

Caller: Is it always your own piss – er, sorry, urine.

 

Della: Don’t be sorry, Adreena, you know it’s piss, I know it’s piss, but, of course, to a slave he must NEVER, ever refer to it as “piss”. No, to him it must always be my glorious golden nectar, or my champagne cocktail. But to answer the question, it’s sometimes a cocktail using my lovely production assistant Karla’s pee, as well. She has a very strong-tasting, odiferous flow first thing in the morning, believe you me.

 

Caller: Any chance of more piss in the show?

 

Della: No, not really. P-120 is mainly a flagellation show, that’s its raison d’etre, as it were. There are the specialist piss programs, such as Pissing for Pleasure and Piss Slaves in Toilet Torment so we’re quite happy to leave the golden flow for such shows.

 

Caller: Thank-you, I’d like more piss and to me the horse’s piss on the slave’s beaten body is the highlight, but I take your point.

 

Caroline: And now we move north to Chicago, and Bernice. Bernice, your question for Della.

 

 

 

Caller: Hi Della, love the show, I’ve taped every one. Now I have a slut maid and every now and again she SO pisses me. It would be marvellous if I could threaten her with something like “Do that again and I’ll ship your ugly ass off to Mistress Della for a P-120.” That would put the fear of shit up her. Any chance of women being flogged on the show?

 

Della: Good question, Bernice, and the answer to your question is “Yes”. We are looking at doing a sister show, I guess you could call it, featuring a very similar format, but possibly with another front person.

 

Caller: Shame!

 

Della: Thank-you, but Punishment 120 takes up a fuckin’ lot of my time. ‘Scuse me a moment, Bernice, deeper cunt, deeper, get your tongue right up there! Now, where was I? Oh, yes, women being flogged. It’s just a pilot scheme at the moment, but we have only one slight problem. All those cocksluts out there who get to watch my show because it provides them with a warning that they must keep their ugly asses in line, simply must NEVER be allowed to watch a program featuring women – even sluts and whores who deserve it – being flogged. This is the New America, and women rule. We don’t want to do anything to counteract that.

 

Caller: I only ask, because there was that maid down in New New Orleans last month who stole her employer’s car and tried to sell it to some drug dealers. Well, she got 1000 strokes before they electrocuted her. I just thought it would be nice to see something like that on P-120.

 

Della: Good point, Bernice, but I would remind you that that fuckin’ stupid maid DID get flogged with a wire cat o’ nine tails. We don’t do that on our show. Sometimes we want the slaves back for another show!

 

Caller: Thanks, but I’ll be able to put my bitch maid in line now.

 

Caroline: And on that thought, we’ll take another break. Be back soon!

 

[Commercial break]

 

Caroline:  Well, Della? Any more cums to report?

 

Della: Just one, a little noisier than the first, good job we were off air. Oh, and he’s back at work.

 

Caroline: And still showing a nice proud erection as he does that work, I see.

 

Della: Randy little cunt, eh?

 

Caroline: And now for our next caller – and I’m afraid because of our time constraints it will have to be our last – we go to somewhere quite close to you, Della, to Phoenix, Arizona, where Madeleine is waiting. Madeleine, your question for Della.

 

Caller: Hi, Della, this is Madeleine Dempster, I think you’ve heard of me.

 

Della: Indeed, I most certainly have, Madeleine and let me thank-you for allowing my two young floggers today to work on their, er, their slave subject?

 

Caller: It’s my pleasure to watch the youngsters at work, Della, I’ve got several hours of them whipping their, er, their slave.

 

Della: And your question, Mizz Dempster?

 

Caller: How can I get him – he’s my personal cockslut slave, of course – how can I get him on Punishment 120? I hope that’s not a silly question, Della.

 

Della: Certainly not, Mizz Dempster, certainly not, you’d be surprised at how many times I’m asked this at functions, shows, dinner parties, and such like. And it’s really very simple. Make an exhibition disc, and pop it in the vid mail to Sex Sinema, New Los Angeles – the production assistant will keep you on line after our little chat and give you the details. The, er, slave? What’s he like?

 

Caller: He’s got a very fit body, he’s well built, I make him exercise in my personal gym as I stand by with my flogger in case he tries to slack off and he’s quite handsome. I also think he has a high pain threshhold.

 

Della: The latter is very important, because our P-120 slaves have to undergo stringent torture, as you well know, Mizz Dempster. They also have to pass a rigorous medical examination – can’t have them dying of a heart attack under torture, can we?

 

Caller: That would never do.

 

Della: Lovely talking to you, Mizz Dempster, and the P-120 team look forward to watching your demonstration tape. I take it, it will show the lovely ladies I used today?

 

Caller: Yes, and some of me, as well. You’ll think me an amateur, my dear, but I’m very enthusiastic.

 

Caroline: Thank-you for your call, Madeleine. Well, Della, that’s it. Thank-you so much for taking some of your precious time to appear on Sex Sinema Magazine and don’t spare the rod with young Jase!

 

Della: Thank-you so much, Caroline, and no, we have no intention of spoiling the young cunt. Good night!

 

[Transcript ends]

 

To be continued.

 

 

 

 

                               PUNISHMENT 120 – Part 10, thigh attack

 

 

Della stepped into her revealing black leather and chain playsuit. She was happy – the interview on the appalling Caroline Clitorides’ show had gone well and she was ready to shoot the backs-of-the-thighs torment on cockslut Jason.

 

And to do it, the lovely 40-year-old golden-haired sex show presenter had chosen the “chicks with dicks”, who she knew would put on a great display of trans-gender domination. Combining the thigh tortures into one show indeed! Della intended today’s performance would be a tour-de-force.

 

The two “chicks with dicks” she had chosen were known in New America in 2077 as “Cross-Designators” – C-Ds for short. The term “trannies” had long been consigned to history’s rubbish dump and Della for one totally approved.

 

The outfit she chose for today’s shoot consisted of gleaming black leather straps, the straps linked by equally gleaming chains, which encircled her lovely lush figure, but left her big breasts utterly bare, her pussy revealed with its light thatch of pubic hair and her generous labia, and her bronzed, muscular buttocks also naked.

 

She wore her favorite, mid-thigh boots and pulled on the black leather, military-style cap she had worn for the previous evening’s TV show appearance.

 

Stepping out into the bright sunshine, Della watched as the metal door to the bunker swung open and out from its dark interior marched a trio of naked people – Jason, the slave, of course, and two C-Ds flanking him, both clad only in Spanish riding boots which came to their knees. The C-Ds both carried razor strop paddles with which to belabor the slut’s thighs.

 

Jason, for his part, was wearing the yoke he had been strapped to when Della had first interviewed him a couple of days ago. He was otherwise unencumbered, although he was naturally still anally intruded and wearing the prickly punishment pouch over what by now must have been his very tender scrotum.

 

The C-Ds marched the lad to the central spot on a broad, red rubber tarpaulin which had been hammered into place on the spot where all his tortures during the P-120 would take place.

 

Della smiled at medium camerawoman Jenna, and announced: “Hello all you Punishment 120 fans out there, and welcome to the next episode in our ongoing torture of the 18-year-old painslut, Jason.

 

“Without further ado, let’s meet todays floggers – Cross-Designators Georgia and Staci. Come and say ‘Hi’ to our viewers, ladies.”

 

Della was then flanked by the two C-Ds, who while they may have been “chicks with dicks”, to use the old expression, were in reality chalk and cheese.

 

Turning to Georgia, Della smiled at the muscular, swarthy woman, her jet black hair pulled back in a severe bun. She wore thick glasses, over-applied red lipstick and was, frankly ugly. But she had statuesque breasts, with large, thick nipples, a muscular pair of thighs and calves, a great ass – and a very thick, erect cock.

 

“Hi, Della, I’m Georgia, although everyone calls me Georgie. I’m 45 and I’m delighted to feature on your wonderful show,” she smiled at her famous host.

 

“And you’re also as hard as a rock,” laughed Della, stroking the C-D’s erection, its circumcised head almost purple in color, and gleaming in the sun.

 

“Yep, it’s just under nine inches and boy am I aroused,” laughed the C-D flogger.

 

“Why, may I ask?” inquired Della, although, of course, she damn well knew the answer to that question.

 

“Because I’m looking forward to flogging this pretty young cockslut,” said Georgia, “and I hope to push my little piece of meat into his mouth or anus – or both!”

 

Della turned and looked over her shoulder at the naked cockslut. “Hear that, Jase?” she taunted him. “Won’t that be fun!”

 

“No, mistress,” replied the lad, “please don’t let her do it, please, Mistress Della!”

 

Della laughed and looked back at Georgie. “Interesting, eh, Georgie? I think we may have found a weak link in this pain lover’s armour!”

 

Georgie laughed. “Fuck, I sure hope so, Della.”

 

The TV show presenter then turned to the other woman. This was an entirely different type of the sexually ambiguous C-D. Staci was shortish, with lovely, short-cropped blonde hair, and she was pretty – VERY pretty – with big, doe-like blue eyes.

 

Her breasts, while nowhere near as big as Georgie’s, were shapely, succulent globes, the pert nipples standing up from light areolae. Her waist was trim, her legs superb. And her cock, with a sprout of pubic hair only showing at its bone, was shaved and fully erect.

 

“Hi, tell us about yourself, Staci,” said Della.

 

“Hi, Mistress D,” said the girl, chirpily. “My name’s Staci, I’m 20-years-old, and I’m a 34D cupper, and my cock is just a tad over eight inches, uncut, as you can see.”

 

“And you’re erect, too, Staci,” smiled Della. “Same reasons as Georgie’s?”

 

The C-D blonde beauty grinned. “I LOVE flogging cunts like Jase,” she replied, “and when it comes to sticking my eight inches into someone I’ll do it – as long as they’re pretty.”

 

Della egged her on.

 

“And Jase?”

 

Staci giggled, an almost childlike giggle. “Jase is pretty, very pretty!”

 

Della again looked over her shoulder. “Looks like you might be playing with more than one cock, eh Jase?” she teased him.

 

“OK, girls, that’s the introductions out of the way,” said the show’s front woman. “Now, you wanna get him set up for his first two hours’ sunbathing?”

 

Georgie stepped forward to take charge, as Della knew she would.

 

Stepping beside the naked, trembling lad, the C-D placed her gnarled hand on his limp member and started stroking it. Amazingly, it began to rise towards erection.

 

“Now, cunt,” said the dark-haired C-D, in a snarly tone, “let’s have you in Position 13, you know it, get into it, now!”

 

And with a shudder, the boyslut went into the semi-squat of Position 13. Unlike a catcher’s crouch, with the slave on his haunches, Position 13 demanded he lower his ass until his thighs were level with the ground. Then he had to hold it.

 

“This position is rather tough on the thighs,” said Della, “and can lead to cramping, correct Georgie?”

 

The bun-haired bitch nodded with a malicious grin.

 

“In which case he’d better have regular drinks of cooling water to help keep his liquid intake up and stave off the cramps,” said the lovely presenter. “I think we’d better make it a glass every 20 minutes, that should be about right.”

 

“Staci,” said Della, “would you like to feed him my urine for the first hour he’s in the position 13 crouch, Georgie, you take the second hour.”

 

Then the program’s presenter looked at the now crouching slave and smiled. “Don’t worry, baby, only two hours of this and then you’ll be on your back for the thigh flogging. That’ll take the pressure off you, won’t it?”

 

And with a laugh, the two C-D floggers and Della walked into the canteen, followed by the camera crew, Claudia and Karla.

 

 

 

For the next two hours the floggers and the P-120 crew smoked, drank coffee, ate cookies, and each “drinks break” given by Georgie or Staci was also attended by Della whose tauntings of the cockslut were recorded by the cameras.

 

Not all would be used, of course, most would be edited out, but the especially amusing “chats” between Della and the slave might find its way into the third episode of chapter 8.

 

Finally, though, it was time for the boy’s flogging. For this the muscle-cramping slut was dragged by the C-Ds over to the edge of the tarpaulin and made to lie on his back. His arms were then pulled over the edge of the tarp and the extremities of the yoke were strapped to iron pegs which had been hammered into the ground.

 

This, of course, would serve to stop the painslut from writhing around too much when under torture. Then two metal poles, about three feet high, were banged into the ground by the muscular Georgie, and Jason’s legs were drawn up until his ankles could be slotted into leather straps at the top of the poles.

 

This brought his buttocks up off the hot surface of the tarpaulin, revealing his dildo-pentrated anus, his punishment pouch-bound ball sac and presented the backs of his thighs appealingly to the ravages planned by Georgie and Staci.

 

When the 18-year-old had been strapped into position, Della shouted: “OK, cunt, call down from 10 to 1 and then ask your mistresses to commence their flogging!”

 

The lad did so, calling out in a loud, clear voice, which pleased Della no end and meant no retake of the slave’s pleas.

 

But Georgie and Staci were not ready to commence the cockslut’s flogging yet. Georgie, once more, took charge.

 

Walking around to the slave’s head, she knelt on the sandy soil and placed her knees about six inches from each of his cheeks. Her thick cock was jutting up away from her groin, pointing directly at Jason’s mouth.

 

“Now cunt,” said the thick-penised C-D, “show me how much you want me to whip you, show me you really, REALLY want it!”

 

 

And with that, the 45-year-old pressed on her cock shaft and pointed the pre-cum dripping tip of her cut cock at the lad’s mouth. With a little whimper, the slave opened his mouth and Georgie pushed her cock down his throat, and for at least two minutes, she pumped her meat into him.

 

Finally, the busty C-D relented and stood. “OK, cunt,” she told him, “I’m convinced. But now you have to convince my partner. Show her you want HER to flog you, too!”

 

And the lovely naked blonde knelt down where her older partner in punishment had been moments before, and with the thumb and forefinger of her whip-free hand, Staci pressed her foreskin lips to Jason’s mouth and then pushed her cock head into it.

 

Soon the thigh flogging started in earnest. Standing on each side of their sweat-covered victim, the two C-Ds flailed their heavy razor strop paddles down onto the boy’s thighs.

 

It didn’t take long before the backs of his strong muscled lengths of flesh were covered in bright red weals, and Della knew the cross-designators were bang on the 10-strokes-per minute pace.

 

The lad, according to Karla, started sobbing a mere 11 minutes into his ordeal, and finally, one extra-strength delivery from the Amazonian Georgie brought a sharp scream from the boy’s mouth – the 15th minute. Shit, thought Della, these C-D’s mean business!

 

But it wasn’t all flogging. About every 20 minutes, after the lad had been “refreshed” with a glass of Della’s cold urine, Georgie decided it was time to check that Jason was still “keen” to be flogged by the ladies.

 

Each time, Georgie and Staci checked this by thrusting their hard-ons down the gagging slut’s throat. Each time, they announced themselves satisfied that he wanted them to carry on flogging.

 

The color of the back of Jason’s thighs changed from a bronzed brown to darker brown, then to a reddish brown and finally took on a blueish hue as the strong C-Ds attacked their pinioned prisoner.

 

At last, two hours into their fusillade of flagellatory fury, the pair stopped as Della called a halt to the painful proceedings.

 

“OK girls, thanks a million – although it wasn’t quite as many strokes as that,” Della joked, when she stepped in to stop the C-Ds’ fun on their screaming, sobbing cockslut slave.

 

“Now, if you don’t mind, would you drag him into center stage and place him for his two hours of contemplation,” said the blonde TV superstar.

 

The naked C-Ds released the sweating slut from his position and hauled him across the tarpaulin until he was in the middle of the warm rubber expanse. A pair of wooden blocks were then placed beneath the yoke at its extremities and he lay, belly down, buttocks up, in place for his next two hours.

 

No sooner than he had been put into position, than the big-titted 45-year-old approached Della. The TV frontwoman placed a warning finger to her lips, then organised her camera team into place.

 

“Yes, Georgie?” she asked, “I can see you have a question.”

 

The thick-cocked, erect C-D smiled. “Mistress Della, I’m still fuckin’ randy,” she explained. “May I take it out on the cunt down there?”

 

Della looked across to the bleeding thighs of the prone slave, then asked: “Anyone here from Punishment Park authorities?”

 

A booted, capped, but otherwise naked camp commandant stepped onto the mat. “How can I help, Mistress Della?” asked Priscilla.

 

Della smiled at the park boss. “This slave, he ever been taken by a real, live, throbbing cock?”

 

Priscilla held an electronic organizer in her hand, and she pressed a few buttons. “Er, no, not according to our records,” she reported. “He’s had rubber and plastic insertions, and plenty of enemas, of course, but not a real-life, honest to god cock.”

 

 

 

Della made sure the cameras were on, and trained at the whimpering cockslut. Then she smiled at Georgie: “Fuck his brains out, baby!”

 

To be continued.

 

 

 

 

 

 

                           PUNISHMENT 120 – Part 11, CD fun

 

Della watched with an amused smile on her pretty face as the stiff-pricked Cross-Designator, a cruel grin on her ugly face, marched over to where the naked, bloody-thighed Jason lay on the tarpaulin.

 

Karla stepped beside her boss, clipboard in hand, and hissed in her ear: “Is this part of the fuckin’ script, Della? I mean, it’s a fladge show, are we going down the tranny rape route now?”

 

“Hold it, hold it,” called Della, as her three camerawomen prepared to record Jason’s next bout of suffering.

 

Then she turned on her pretty production assistant.

 

“Listen, you little slut,” she snapped, “this is MY show, and it’s my inventiveness which keeps the fuckin’ ratings high. If I decide that a C-D – and for fuck’s sake, Karla, they’re not ‘trannies’ any more – is gonna rape the boy, then a C-D is gonna rape the slut. Get the picture?”

 

Karla’s eyes lowered as she bore the brunt of her boss’s fury.

 

“Did you complain when he was forced to drink our piss, eh slut? Did you bitch and moan when we forced the anal intruder up his tight little chutney chute? Or put that tight prickle pouch over his balls?”

 

Karla shook her head, pouting prettily, but nevertheless pouting.

 

“All right then,” said Della, her anger at her production assistant’s presumption calming. “Now, Georgie and Staci, if she wants, are gonna have their way with the cunt for two hours before they start pouring the horsepiss over him.

 

“It’s gonna make the ratings soar, and it’s ratings which pay your wages and buy you the gear you use to torture your cockslut back home in New Los Angeles, got it? So, you OK with my plan now?”

 

 

 

The argument had been easily within earshot of the camera crew and Claudia, who stood around, fussing with their cameras and sound gear, pretending not to hear the dressing down Della was giving her gorgeous little PA.

 

“Sorry, Della, I’m wrong, you’re right, it’s a great idea,” said Karla, scuffing the dirt with her Adinikes, and looking suitably chastened. “Please, forgive me, I was wrong. I apologise.”

 

Della smiled, held out a hand and Karla picked it up, and placed it against her pretty lips. “Sorry, I’m just a bit tired, I guess, shall we get on with it?”

 

The TV show superstar grinned and pulled the busty beauty to her. Mashing breasts against breasts, Della kissed Karla flush on the mouth. “Organise it, call the shots,” she whispered, in the girl’s ear, then stepped off the tarpaulin.

 

But Karla had little work to do. Georgie had taken charge. Kneeling in front of the lad’s raised mouth, which was perfectly positioned to accept her cock, she rasped: “Suck it, get it nice and wet cunt!”

 

And as the boy did, Georgie ordered Staci: “Rip the dildo from his ass, get him ready!”

 

Staci did as she was told, and then Georgie pulled her spit-soaked hard-on from the cockslut’s gaping mouth and stepped behind his buttocks.

 

“Spread ‘em, cunt,” she snapped, kicking out with one booted foot and planting its toe deep into the side of the lad’s thigh.

 

Jason obeyed, his thighs spread wide, his anus ready for George’s onslaught.

 

The muscular C-D knelt behind him, placed her bare cockhead to his puckered anus, and then, as the lad screamed out, she thrust it deep into him. After a few heaving thrusts, the 45-year-old raked her long fingernails down the backs of the boy’s ravaged thighs, drawing squeals of anguish from him.

 

As the 45-year-old continued to brutally ass fuck the teenager, Staci decided she wanted in on the action, too, and knelt in front of the sobbing young slut.

 

“Suck it, cunt, and suck it good!” she ordered, pressing her thick-lipped penis into the lad’s mouth.

 

But Staci was not destined to be fellated for long.

 

“Ooooh, fuck, he’s so fuckin’ tight,” cried Georgie, after a minute or so of ass reaming, “I’m having trouble holding back, the filthy little ass cunt, oh fuck!”

 

And then the burly C-D was on her feet and pushing Staci from the cockslut’s mouth, and pressing her smeared prick into the boy’s mouth. A couple of jerks, and the C-D shuddered and yelled: “Ah, that’s it, I’m cumming, oh fuck, I’m cummmmmming!”

 

“Money shot!” yelled Karla, urgently, and as the 45-year-old pumped semen deep into Jason’s throat, she had the presence of mind to pull from his mouth and splash spunk on his cheeks and lips as well.

 

After she had calmed down, the busty bitch wiped her cock tip onto the drips of spunk and smeared the still-throbbing cock down to the slave’s mouth, forcing him to suck the last traces of spunk down.

 

“And that’s a wrap!” called Karla, and everyone walked into the canteen for refreshments.

 

Later, after he had been in the face down position for two hours, the team re-assembled in the hot sun and the filming was concluded with Georgie and Staci performing the horse’s urine torture segment.

 

After thanking the C-Ds for their performances, Della closed out the show by speaking directly to the boy, now standing somewhat unsteadily on his feet, the yoke heavy across his shoulders.

 

“And that’s all for your back,” she smiled, stroking the kid’s cock. “So tomorrow we’ll get started on your front, eh, big fella? That’s right, cunt, we’re at the half-way stage. Fun isn’t it?”

 

Then, with a look straight into the camera, Della smiled “That’s all for this week, flogging fans, see you next Sunday when we start on Jase’s lovely chest! Byeee.”

 

The blonde superstar held her pose, hand grabbing the prickle pouch beneath Jason’s cock for several seconds, until she knew it would be freeze framed to allow the credits to roll, then walked away from sobbing slut.

 

Back in her suite, Della showered the grime off her luscious body, while Karla soaped her. They both kissed and cuddled for a while, as they let the warm spray enfold them, then Della switched the water off.

 

“Now, let’s look really good for the cocktail party,” she said. “I’ve got my eye on a C-D.”

 

Karla laughed, their earlier row forgotten. “Wouldn’t be the lovely Staci, by any chance?” she asked her boss.

 

“Well it’s certainly not Georgie,” smiled Della, selecting a slinky, black strapless satin dress for the function.

 

She pulled the garment on, adjusted it over her ample bosom, noted how nice her nipples looked thrusting into the fabric, turned and bent slightly in front of a long mirror, saw that the dress was so short that it rode up over her lower ass cheeks, then brushed her hair.

 

In the cocktail lounge, Della found that Georgie was chatting up the lesbian camerawoman, Penny, and then she made a beeline for the glorious little Staci.

 

The 20-year-old blonde had chosen a dress very similar to Della’s – black and slinky, and also very, very short. But Staci’s had little thin straps, holding the dress tightly across her lovely, curvy breasts.

 

Della walked over to her and they clinked glasses of Korbel-Krug.

 

“And tell me,” Della whispered in the pert young CD’s ear, “are you dressed like me under that lovely LBD?”

 

“And how might you be dressed under it?” asked the girl, who then, without waiting for a response, slipped a cool hand beneath the hem of Della’s dress and stroked between her slightly-parted thighs.

 

“Hmm,” murmured the TV star, “you stroke good. But I think I’d better check whether you’re similarly dressed – oh, make that undressed!”

 

And without a moment’s hesitation, Della’s hand probed beneath the boygirl’s dress and felt a smooth, uncut, eight-inches plus cock standing up and pressing against the slippery smooth satin.

 

“Are you gonna take me to your suite and fuck me?” the chick-with-the-dick asked, breathlessly, as she enjoyed Della’s strong stroking.

 

“No,” murmured the superstar, stepping closer and placing a tongue on the lovely lady’s earlobe, “I’m gonna take you to my suite and I’m gonna make passionate love to you. How’s that?”

 

“Wonderful,” said the 20-year-old. “When can we go?”

 

Della looked over to where Penny and the C-D Georgie were embracing, mouths locked together, and Penny’s hand was probing in the 45-year-old’s crotch region.

 

“Two more glasses of the bubbly, then we can make our excuses and leave,” said Della, planting a lingering kiss on the C-D’s warm mouth, just to make sure all her crew, Priscilla, other assorted Punishment Park officials and Karla – most importantly Karla – knew exactly what the TV star had planned for Staci.

 

After making polite conversation with a couple of park officials, keen to know how the torture of one of their charges was going, Della took her boygirl by the hand and smiled: “And now, if you’ll excuse Staci and me, but we have something planned.”

 

The three park executives smiled, all had been watching as Della had protectively held an arm around the C-D’s waist during the conversation and they would have been blind to have missed the 20-year-old’s erection jutting into the bottom of her LBD.

 

The pair almost ran back to Della’s suite, and once inside had merged into a passionate, mouth-on-mouth, tongue-against-tongue kiss, as they helped each other drag off the little black dresses.

 

Then they fell onto the bed, Della pressing her larger, bigger-busted body onto the pert young blonde’s, feeling the thickness of the boygirl’s cock pressing against her abdomen.

 

 

Next, after breaking for some badly needed oxygen, the 40-year-old’s mouth slithered in a hot trail down onto the 20-year-old’s breasts, tweaking and nibbling at the erect nipples, before going deeper and finding something even more erect!

 

Eagerly, the TV presenter sucked on the knob down to its thick ring some inch or an inch and a half from the foreskin lips, and then she lay on her back and thrust Staci’s head down on her breasts, then lower in an unmistakeable message – muff me!

 

The younger blonde’s pretty little mouth was soon delving into the sex-juiced nooks and crannies of Della’s cunt, labia and anus, and then the TV star was panting and pleading: “Inside me, inside me, I’ve never had a boygirl, NEVER!”

 

Staci mounted the television presenter almost immediately, then placed her sex-smeared lips onto Della’s mouth, deep tongued her, then asked, with incredulity: “You’ve never had a chick with a dick? Fuck, what a waste. We’ve got a lot of fucking time to make up. Why not?”

 

Della smiled, enjoying the thick hardness filling her vagina, the way her pubic bone was thrusting up to meet Staci’s, the way their breasts were smashing against each other.

 

“Dunno,” said Della, “perhaps because some of ‘em look like Georgie. Some of them have too deep voices. Not you – your’s is perfect.”

 

Staci grinned and slowed in her cunt fucking to explain. “When I was 14 I had an operation on my vocal chords to stop me voice breaking,” she told Della. “I’d already made up my mind I wanted to be a C-D. Sorry, I can’t make myself say ‘Cross-Designator’, it sounds like a fuckin’ computer programmer!”

 

Della rolled over so she was on top of the pretty boygirl.

 

“You’re so pretty,” she said, “I made my mind up early that I’d like you. You have a girlfriend?”

 

Staci nodded as Della took charge of the fuck, timing her strokes up and down the stiff-pricked boygirl’s penis. “Sure, you know her – she was one of the floggers on his first day of torture.”

 

Della thought back, then it dawned on her. “You mean Guard Sadie? Hmm, Sadie and Staci – it has a ring to it.”

 

Then she thought again. “Sadie? She’s only 18 – cradle snatcher,” she laughed.

 

Staci giggled. “Me?” she asked, open-eyed. “What does that make you? You’re twice my age, aren’t you?”

 

Della kissed the boygirl on her mouth, harshly. “That makes me a woman who’s hot for a C-D bitch, now shut up and fuck me!”

 

Staci did, until Della raised herself on bunch fists, straightening her arms so the 20-year-old’s mouth could lick and suck on her nipples, allowing the turgid breasts’ lumps to act as conduits to her clitoris so Della could come on the boygirl with a roaring, yelling shout of ecstasy.

 

When the act was completed, Staci whispered “Me now, where do you want it?” as she pulled from Della’s cunt and arranged her pulled back foreskin until it was again covering her knob head.

 

“Here!” Della pointed to her lush, large breasts and Staci grinned and laid her thick eight inches between the superstar’s globes and started to pump and pump until, when her cock was on an upthrust, its lips pulled back to reveal the lovely little piss slit, a spurt of thick, gobbly semen shot onto the 40-year-old’s titty flesh.

 

Again the C-D boygirl pumped, more spunk wallowed onto Della’s breasts, and then, as the 20-year-old calmed the pair went into the shower to clean up.

 

Back on the bed, both women were enjoying post-coital cigarettes, when the vid phone on the bedside table went.

 

Della reached over and placed it on her lap as she sat up and the pretty blonde guard, Sadie, came into shot.

 

“Mistress Della,” she asked, in a quivering voice, “is Staci with you?”

 

“Sure, here she is,” said Della, moving the vid phone over so Sadie could see Staci.

 

“Why Sadie, darling, what’s wrong,” said the 20-year-old boygirl.

 

“That fucking bitch Georgie,” snivelled the younger guard, “that’s what’s fuckin’ wrong!”

 

“Darling,” said Staci, “hold on.”

 

The boygirl turned to Della. “Something’s up. Can Sadie come by?”

 

Della nodded. “Get her here now.”

 

Minutes later – possibly only one – there was a tap-tap on the door to Della’s suit. The long-legged naked lady answered it, ushering a sobbing Sadie into the bedroom.

 

The blonde 18-year-old was wearing a black PVC bikini, which immediately gave Della thoughts of lust, but the youngster brushed past her and flung herself into Staci’s welcoming arms.

 

“There, there, there,” said the 20-year-old C-D, “tell your girlfriend what’s wrong, hush baby, tell Staci all about it.”

 

Gradually the younger guard’s heaving sobs slowed, and then she sat beside her girlfriend and composed herself.

 

“You’ll never guess what that bitch Georgie’s done!” she blurted.

 

“What, baby,” said Della, joining in the soothing process, stroking the 18-year-old lovely firm thigh.

 

 

 

“As soon as you’d finished filming Jason’s thigh-flogging segment,” she said, her voice quavering in indignation, “the bitch went to Priscilla and said that Jason was such a great ass fuck, she wanted him to be her slut boy after you’ve shot the program!

 

“And the camp commandant has given him to her!”

 

To be continued.