Just Like Heaven  

sexyasianangel70 39F
214 posts
5/22/2006 5:51 pm
Just Like Heaven

Brenda followed her matron as they turned and headed toward the center of the castle. There was a small courtyard area here, and Brenda was guided to a series of wooden basins filled with water. She was immediately ordered to step inside the nearest one and her matron promptly began to wash her, scrubbing her body fiercely.
The warm water soothed her tender skin, but the scratching of the brush awoke new sensations of pain within her. Nothing was private. The matron quite impersonally scrubbed her sex, her sore buttocks, her breasts. Brenda found herself craving the brush and struggling to remain calm.

Finally the washing was finished and she was briskly dried off with a large soft towel. Brenda was breathing heavily when the bath was done, her sex aching and wet once again, her welts and bruises pulsing. But the matron was moving away, motioning Brenda to follow her.

She was led down a series of steps to a lower level. This was Hall Six she was told. Her room was Aisle Three, Room Twelve. She followed the matron and noted the signs above the hallways and rooms. Near the end of one hallway was Room Twelve.

The room was sparce. There were two beds and a small table between them. Brenda noticed there was a large leather paddle hanging on a peg by the door, and she dreaded imagining what it was there for.

Some things puzzled her. She noticed there were leather loops against the wall near the foot of each bed. There were also two brass hooks dangling from the ceiling near each bed. She didn't know what these were for, but though she did not really want to know, she figured she would know before too long.

"This is your quarters. You will remain here until dawn. Breakfast is a 7 a.m. sharp. Do not be late. You roommate's name is Dana. She will be along shortly; she is finishing her chores. Your chores will not begin until tomorrow, so you can rest tonight. I'm sure you need it." The matron smiled and it was not exactly a reassuring smile. "Do not leave this room for any reason until morning."

Brenda nodded dumbly and crawled over to one of the beds and stretched out, grateful of even the slightest comfort and rest. The matron smiled again and left. Brenda wondered briefly what amused her so, but forgot it and in moments was sound asleep, the stress of the day forgotten.

She awoke thinking it was all a long-forgotten dream, vague and foggy, and was shocked to see a tall redheaded girl staring down at her. She was very well apportioned. Her breasts were tremendous. Just looking at her, Brenda felt self-conscious and small. She wasn't fat, but she wasn't rake skinny either. As Brenda watched she turned and walked to the other bed and sat down. Brenda's eyes couldn't help but note the severe redness of her buttocks, the many fresh welts across the skin and legs.

She spoke cautiously. "My name is Brenda. Are you Dana?"

The girl smiled. "Yes. I guess Witch Wilma told you that."

"Witch Wilma?"

"Mistress Wilma to her face. She's the Hall Six matron. We call 'em all Witches when they're not around, but don't let them catch you saying that."

"How long have you been here? What can you tell me about this place?"

"The Castle? Just about everything. I've been here for almost two years. I've taken almost every punishment, too, so I know just about everything. What would you like to know?"

Brenda sighed. "For starters, how does one avoid getting spanked so often?"

The redhead laughed, her voice pretty and clear. "_Avoid_ getting spanked? I reckon no convict knows the answer to that one, my pretty. Some think the answer's the other way around." She smiled at Brenda's confusion. "This is a place of punishment. There is no avoiding punishment. You will receive punishment whether you like it or not, so you'd better learn to enjoy it. The only control you have is the amount and the method."

Brenda stared in amazement. This was the second time she'd heard talk of enjoying the punishment. It seemed odd, and yet normal somehow. "What do you mean, 'enjoy it'?"

Dana grinned and stretched out across her bed, her shapely bottom painfully exposed to Brenda's scrutiny. "Don't fight it, Brenda. Don't struggle against it. It just makes it harder, more painful, and less pleasureable. Go with it, let yourself go into the pain, get lost in it. Abandon yourself in the agony. I know it's frightening, but trust me--it's much less difficult than it sounds and it makes bearing the punishments much easier." She paused.

"Tell you what, Brenda. Let me tell you about myself. When I first arrived I was a rebel. Let me tell you what happened to me."

Chapter 5: Dana's Story

"As you can tell by my accent, I'm sure, I'm American. I grew up in Wisconson, of all places, but moved to New York when I was sixteen. I lived with my older sister who was a struggling actress. She did modeling jobs on the side, and I became involved. Eventually I moved to London to pursue modeling.

"I did pretty good at first. But soon my bills started getting higher than my income and when jobs became scare I took on some sleazier jobs--not porno, exactly, but I posed nude for magazines, did some movie roles, etc. Eventually that ended me up here, probably very similar to yourself.

"Anyhow, by the time I ended up here I was certainly no naive teenager. I was a hardened adult. I took my career seriously. I strongly resented the interference of the Judge and the others here at the Castle, and I resolved not to obey them.

"That was more difficult than I had anticipated, as I soon discovered. My temper-tantrum in the courtroom got me a sound spanking even before I was sentenced. It quieted me a little, as you can imagine, but only because I hadn't expected it. When I was introduced to Mistress Angela, I spat in her face. She paddled me most severely, but that was just the beginning. She immediately decided I deserved stronger punishment and sent me to Public Exposure.

"I was taken to the central courtyard and hung above the gateway. I was suspended by my wrists and ankles and my sex hung open to all. It was most humiliating, but I still refused to comply with even the simplest orders. Three times a day Mistress Angela would have me taken down and she would spank me incredibly hard. Often she would thrash my legs until they were raw. My buttocks always ached.

"But during the times I hung every matron who passed would dip from the bucket near me and pour salt water across my wounds. I was in utter agony. But the worst, my far the worst, as the pain my unsatisfied sex gave me. My legs were kept fully apart, even at night, and there was no relief for me at all. The matrons knew this, of course, and often teased my sex to keep it active and alive to torture me more.

"I could find no pleasure in my position, only shame. I had no satistfaction, even during those few hours of sleep each night. Only during the frequent spankings did I find relief, yes, even pleasure. I would pretend but buttocks were my starved sex, and every blow that struck them was a sweet touch that stired my libido. I soon began to crave my spankings, and every smack, every slap, every sting was something I knew I deserved, something I knew I needed, something I wanted.

"It was still painful--incredibly so. Many times I wondered how I could take such pain. But I was able to bear it, and the pleasure was intensified to even greater heights.

"This went on for many days, several weeks I suppose. Then one day, after a particularly severe paddling, Mistress Angela ordered me to fetch her drink from across the room. Without thinking I obeyed. When she laughed, I realized what I had done and I promptly knocked the drink from her hands. But she knew she had reached a new level in my training. I was furious, and I prayed she'd beat me most horrendously, but she did not. Instead she sent me to the reward center.

"Here I was given a phallus to mount. And though I was fully bound hand and foot, I could maneuver slightly. At first I was repulsed. But even when I began to crave the phallus, I refused I could feel it touching my thighs, but I still held out. Finally I could stand it no longer and I gave it, immensely grateful for the terrible paddling that immediately began. My buttocks were on fire they were already so raw, but I relished in the punishment, knowing I truely deserved it for my lack of willpower. But I so enjoyed the phallus. Despite the fierce paddle pounding my buttocks, I managed to satisfy myself quite quickly. Almost as soon as I finished, however, I knew I wanted it again.

"Three times I took that phallus, each time my satisfaction grew, my actions more frenzied, the paddle harder and faster and more painful. The third time took the longest, and I remember wondering if I had ever felt anything so glorious. I was caught between deadly pleasure and dreadful pain. I abandoned myself completely to the two and was lost. It was an unbelievable moment of ecstacsy and agony.

"When it was over I was exhausted. My buttocks throbbed like a second heartbeat. They felt so hot I was sure they would burn the hand that touched them. My buttocks were heavy and felt twice as large as normal. My sex was dry for the moment, but felt as raw and punished as my bottom.

"That night I was not taken back to my normal quarters, but to a tiny room very deep within the Castle. I was chained as usual, my legs spread, my hot buttocks pressed painfully against the cold stone floor. My sex was dripping again, my desire fierce. I slept fitfully.

"The next morning I awoke to find my chains allowed some movement, but my legs could not be pressed together, nor my hands reach to ease my pain. I could reach food and drink placed within my grasp, however, and when I had drunk, realized I was painfully alone.

"For days this went on. I never saw anyone. I would finally fall asleep, and when I awoke there would be food and water. I never could catch whoever brought it--it was always done while I slept. Perhaps they drugged the food or drink, I do not know. I do not know how long this all lasted, but I knew that I was going batty.

"At first it was a relief to be alone. No one touched me, paddled me, prodded or poked me. No one poured salt on my welts or slapped my breasts or pinched my nipples. But soon I grew bored, and then desperate. Soon I was desperate for the paddle. I dreampt of paddles: the hard wooden ones that jarred one's whole skeleton, the leather ones that burned the skin. I craved the sting of the belts and leather straps, I wanted the pain. But there was nothing, no one.

"Then one day, many days after I had been put in the room, I heard the sound of a door opening. Finally Mistress Angela stood at my doorway. She smiled, and it was one of the most welcome sights I have ever seen in my entire life. When she unlocked my chains I crawled to her and kissed her feet. I showered them with kisses. I was beyond shame, beyond care. All I knew was I loved this harsh woman and I wanted to please her. If my humiliation and pain pleased her, then so be it. I would accept it and enjoy it for her amusement. I was hers to command.

"Immediately she began to test me. First she felt my skin and discovered it had healed during my confinement, and was now soft and white again. The first few blows of her paddle were sheer joy. I thrived on the pain, I breathed it in, I loved it. I loved the heat, the burning, the stinging that I could not touch, could not stop. I bore the pain without comment, without complaint. On my knees I crawled before her as she paddle me out of the dungeons and up long flights of stairs and into sunlight once again.

"I crawled across the courtyard, and though I was aware of countless pairs of eyes watching me, I did not waver. All I could think about was pleasing Mistress Angela, making her happy. When she had me stop and pour water for her at the well, I did without hesitation. And when she publicly washed me I did not resist but enjoyed the harshness of her brush.

"Then we went inside and she took me immediately to a punishment hall. This particular hall involved pushing a raw egg across the floor with your nose. If the egg broke you were promptly dangled and spanked. The catch was that while you pushed the egg, a matron followed behind you and paddled your buttocks with a light leather paddle.

"The first blow caught me so by surprise I pushed into the egg and it immediately broke. At once a huge bulky matron pulled me up by my ankles. I was hanging upside down, my breasts heavy and dangling, my hair trailing the floor. The first few blows were so hard I didn't even realize it was a hand at first. Then I saw that it was Mistress Angela spanking me furiously, her hand slapping my buttocks with such rapidity I could barely breathe. The blood rushed to my head and my face flushed. It was unbelievably humiliating to be spanked so ungraciously. I quickly vowed not to let it happen again, no matter what.

"But then I was back on my hands and knees, my buttocks high in the high, my breasts scraping the rough stone floor, the leather paddle coming down painfully against my ass, while I gently pushed a new egg with my nose. I prayed she would break my skin and be required to stop. I prayed I would not break my egg. But neither prayer was answered. Twice more I broke eggs and was upended, and each time spanked more furiously for even longer durations. But Mistress Angela knew her bottoms. She cleverly spread her blows, spanking all of my buttocks. For a time she'd concentrate on the top portion, then on the lower, then just on the lower portion of the right buttock, then the left, then the center of both, and so on. She was devilish about it, and I both loved and hated her for it.

"But ultimately it was far better than being alone in a cell with no one to please. I held out and obedied her every command and finally finished the egg game. I thought I had accomplished a great deal, but she seemed displeased. 'So you'll break eggs, will you?' she cried. 'I'll teach you to break eggs!' And she paddled me down the hallway, this time using her own wooden paddle, which was much more painful than the leather one I had just become used to.

"I thought by now I had endured much for her sake, and that nothing more could be done to disquiet me, but she showed me otherwise. Do you want to her about them?"

"Oh, yes, please!" cried Brenda, tears in her eyes. Throughout the story her eyes had followed the lines of Dana's beautiful body, her sleek legs, her rounded buttocks, her pert breasts which now rested so gently against the bed sheets. Should could not imagine such things being done to such a beautiful body. And yet she _could_ imagine it, for she could almost see the hard paddle flashing down against the flesh, Dana's rump bouncing and writhing in agony. What she couldn't imagine was experiencing such pain, such pleasure. It moved her to hear Dana speaking so calmly of such experiences, as though it was all normal.

"Yes, please, tell me more. I want to hear everything!" she said quietly.

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