One Hot Night (10 page)

   
“She’s enjoying this?” Katherine asked, her
voice disbelieving.

   
“She’s loving it,” Andrew assured her.

   
The man flexed the thin cane, and then,
reaching back, he snapped it across the girl’s ass. She flinched, but made no
sound. He did it again, and then again. Three bright red lines crossed her pale
skin. The girl’s back was arched, pushing herself out to meet the blows, the
muscles in her legs taut and quivering. The man struck again twice, and
Katherine thought she heard the girl moan. Her own skin was hot as she felt
Andrew’s presence behind her.

   
The blows were coming faster now, and she
could see sweat gleaming on the man’s forehead. Andrew moved closer to her,
either of his own volition or because the whole crowd was bearing forward,
trying to get a better view.

   
The girl’s back was arched so hard that
Katherine thought it must hurt her, but she showed no signs of anything but
pleasure in the pain. She was moaning in earnest now, her feet flexed so her
toes pressed into the stone, and Katherine could see the muscles of the girl’s
arms tense as the man struck again.

   
“Twenty strokes,” Andrew murmured. “She
really is well-trained.”

   
The man on stage stepped back. The girl’s
ass was patterned with welts, crisscrossed over her white flesh. She was
breathing heavily. “Spread your legs, slave,” the man commanded. The girl did
so, widening her stance so that the space between her thighs was clearly
visible to the crowd. There was a collective intake of breath from the crowd.

She was dripping
wet, dampness clearly visible on her thighs. The man stroked the cane up the
insides of her legs, and the girl trembled, her ass pushing out towards the man
in eager anticipation. “Five strokes,” he said, his voice carrying out, “and
then you may come.”

   
Katherine turned to look at Andrew. “What is
he talking about?”

   
“Just watch.”

   
She faced the stage again. The man stroked
the cane up the inside of the girl’s thighs again, and then he struck, the cane
whistling through the air as it landed directly between the girl’s legs. Every
muscle in the girl’s body tensed, and she moaned with heavy breath. Katherine
shuddered. She could see that it must have struck the girl’s clit.

 
“How can that feel good?” Katherine hissed,
her voice a whisper.

   
Andrew shrugged. “It does, to her.”

   
The man struck again, and Katherine saw the
chain tremble. The girl was rigid, panting, her hips moving back to meet each
stroke of the cane. Twice more, and then the man paused.

“Once more,” he
said, and then he struck, this one the hardest of all.

   
Katherine would never have believed it if
she hadn’t been there to see it. The girl convulsed as if on command. Her
muscles, tight already, spasmed in a powerful orgasm, the effects of it
rippling out over her body. Her head flung back, her blonde hair spilling over
her back, and she moaned loudly, the sound drawing out into a screech as her
body convulsed.

One more deep
shudder, and then she slumped over the bench, limp and exhausted. The man
stepped back, and the crowd started to cheer. The slave was allowed a moment to
recuperate. Then she stood, allowing the crowd a view of her reddened ass,
flushed skin and wet thighs, before she turned to face them. She bowed
slightly, and turned to follow her master off of the stage.

   
Two leather-clad girls rushed up on the
stage to remove the bench, and Katherine felt Andrew’s hand touch her waist.
“What did you think?”

   
“I’ve never seen anything like it.”

   
“Your friend will be next.”

   
Katherine took a sip of her drink and
shifted her weight from one heel to the other. Her feet were starting to hurt.
The shift brought her suddenly against Andrew, who was dangerously close to
her. Her ass brushed against him and her breath stilled in shock when she felt
him. He was hard as a rock.

The knowledge sent
a sudden spark of pleasure through her, and his hand suddenly felt hot against
her waist. He sensed the tension in her body and he shifted closer to her. Both
his hands were on her waist now, and he bent his lips to her neck, brushing
them softly against the skin.

   
“I think you want me, Katherine,” he
murmured. All around them, she could see that the others in the crowd were
having similar reactions. Couples were kissing, or grinding softly against each
other with silent moans. One woman was rubbing her hand over the front of her partner’s
pants, her fingers curling around the obvious bulge in his jeans.

   
“You’re very self-assured,” Katherine
murmured, trying to think through the fog of lust that was slowly settling over
her. The air felt heavy and thick, his hands like hot coal against her skin.
She wondered, if she went with him after this, what he might want her to do?
She felt submissive and willing suddenly, as if she might try anything, as long
as he suggested it.

   
“I can read you very well, Katherine.” His
lips drew up her throat to her ear, his tongue flicking out to caress the outer
edge. “I think maybe you were made for me.”

   
Any other man would have sounded ridiculous
saying that. But from his mouth, husky and rough, it sounded perfectly
plausible.

   
The heavy door creaked open, and the buzz of
sound in the crowd suddenly went silent. Katherine saw Bethany come out, but a
completely different Bethany than the jeans and t-shirt clad girl that she saw
most days.

   
She was wearing latex shorts over black
fishnets, her feet slipped into six-inch heels. Katherine had seen her naked
before, and knew she had small breasts, but the tight black latex corset she’d
been laced into pushed them together and up so they looked like they might
spill out. Her hair was French-braided tightly against her head, the thick end
of the braid swinging against her back, her pale skin showing through the
laces.

Her eyes were
darkly lined and thickly fringed with mascara. Her lips were crimson red. In
her hand she had a heavy bullwhip, coiled in her fingers. She stepped to the
side, and out walked a man, completely nude except for his thick black collar
and pierced nipples. He walked out in front of her, up the stairs, and stood,
legs shoulder-width apart, a few inches in front of the massive wooden X that had
been set up in the center where the bench had been before.

   
He was one of the most gorgeous men that
Katherine had ever seen, except perhaps the one standing behind her now. In
truth, there was hardly any comparison. Andrew was clean-cut, collected, a sharply
dressed businessman.

   
The man on stage was anything but lean. His
abdomen was flat and carved, his legs thick trunks of muscle. Katherine was
sure she couldn’t have wrapped half of her hand around his bicep. He had thick
hair that fell to his shoulders, and his eyes were a piercing green.

   
“They choose men built like that on
purpose,” Andrew whispered. “It’s much more enjoyable to watch a man of that
size be subdued by your friend, there.”

   
Katherine had to admit that even in her
heels, Bethany was dwarfed by the man. The heels put her closer to his height,
her nose perhaps coming to his collarbone, but her body looked remarkably thin
and frail in comparison. That was, until she uncoiled the whip and cracked it,
the muscles in her arm suddenly visible as she snapped the heavy leather.

The man bent his
head, backing up and turning to face away from the audience, facing the wooden
St. Andrew’s cross. Bethany reached up, buckling the leather cuffs around his
wrists and bending down to fasten them around his ankles, His feet were pressed
flat against the stone, his body spread out into an X shape. Katherine could
see his balls hanging, heavy between his legs. His cock was half stiff, daring
to go erect.

   
Bethany took a step back and cracked the
whip again. The man’s muscles tensed, his ass flexing. There was an
appreciative murmur from the crowd. Katherine was staring, unbelieving. It was
so strange to see her friend up there, about to whip a chained man.

   
She took a few more steps back, and then she
struck him for the first time, the heavy whip connecting with the flesh of his
back. The man was silent, his hands fisting against the wood, but he was
otherwise motionless. While the cane had left thin marks on the girl, the whip
left thick red welts along the length of the man’s back, glowing in the light
against his tanned skin. The audience could see the muscles in Bethany’s back
and arms flex as she struck again, rocking in her stilettos with the aggressive
motion of the whip.

They could all see
how deceptively frail her physique was. She seemed entirely capable now of
subduing the monster of a man. Her eyes narrowed, her full lips pursed in
concentration as she struck three more times, hitting each time in a precise
spot across his shoulders and back.

   
The man’s muscles were tensing, his body
shifting a bit now as he took the blows of the whip, the welts rising up
thickly in succession. Bethany worked her way methodically down his back,
leaving a similar pattern to the one the man before had left on the girl bent
over the bench.

   
Katherine shifted her weight again, some of
her arousal leaving her. She wasn’t getting the same effect from seeing the
man’s back whipped, although she could definitely appreciate the sight of his
thick muscles in his back and ass flexing as he took each hit. But Andrew was
still touching her, his hands sliding over her waist and hips, his body
pressing closely to hers. She felt her body soften against him, leaning into
his touch, the heat building in her core again.

The whip now
focused squarely on the man’s ass, only the tip of the whip hitting him,
leaving small, sharp marks behind. Bethany moved her target, this time striking
the man’s thigh, the whip coiling around it and then pulling free with a sharp
hiss. The man groaned as she worked her way down his leg, leaving circles of
red in her wake. She repeated the pattern with the other leg. He rose up on his
tippy toes as if on cue, and Bethany quickly, in succession, snapped the tip of
the whip against the soles of his feet. The man groaned aloud, and the crowd
breathed in.

   
She pulled the whip in, coiling it in her
hand, and approached the man.

   
“Is she done already?” Katherine whispered.

   
“She’s only turning him around,” Andrew
said. Katherine shifted against him, and she could feel that his erection had
subsided. She remembered him saying that he had submissives. She supposed that
a dominatrix wasn’t his kink, precisely. Feeling suddenly brave, she arched
against him, pressing her ass into him. Andrew breathed in sharply, his fingers
clutching on her waist.

“You little
vixen,” he hissed, bringing his mouth to her neck, brushing them against her,
and then biting her, very softly, sending a short spark of pain over her
nerves.

   
To Katherine’s surprise, it quickly turned
into pleasure. Her head dropped back a little, her hips arching against him as
she watched Bethany unbuckle the man and he turned.

   
The crowd gasped, including Katherine. The
man was hard as a rock, his impressive erection jutting out towards the audience.
“He’s actually
enjoying
that,”
Katherine breathed.

   
Bethany buckled him into his restraints
again, and stepped back to her previous position, uncoiling her whip again. The
man’s eyes were calm, his breathing heavy. The whip flung out, struck him on
the upper arm, coiling around it before yanking free. She repeated the action
with the other arm. He moaned loud and heavy with heated breath.

   
The next stroke went across his chest. The
tip of the whip struck his nipples, one and then the other. He shuddered, his
muscles going taut. Katherine breathed in, feeling suddenly aroused by the
sight of the man, his body hard, his erection throbbing. He was clearly taking
a great amount of pleasure in the beating, and while she still didn’t
understand it, it was undeniably turning her on.