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PUNISHMENT 120 – Part
16, a fitting finale
Della Domina
didn’t exactly have a riot on her hands, but the natives, as the old 19th
century cliche used to go, were
“restless”.
The day’s shooting had gone
well, if not spectacularly. The filming of Jason’s frontal thigh flogging, by
two quite attractive, although not stunning, guards at Punishment Park had been
punitive, if not sensational.
The lad had screamed well,
his tear-streaked face looked lovely as he wept, and the paddles had flashed as
the two floggers worked on his strongly corded limbs.
He had also blubbered delightfully in between floggings and “refreshments” from
Della.
But in her sign-off package,
Della had forewarned her millions of fans across New America to expect “something
really, REALLY special” for the finale to Jason’s six-episode ordeal.
And then, Della had called
an immediate meeting of her production assistant, sound woman and camera crew
in one of the well-appointed Punishment Park conference rooms.
The women sat, some
open-mouthed, as Della described her plans for the next day’s climactic shoot
in her extremely highly-rated Punishment
120 program.
Della looked around the
table as the news of her plans sank in. Then Penny, her most experienced
camerawoman, looking splendid in a black leather bra and leather hot pants
spoke up.
“Right Della,” said the
pretty picture-taker with her sapphic-signalled
close-cropped black hair, “now don’t get your tits in a proverbial tangle over
this, but let me act as the devil’s advocate – ‘kay?”
Della nodded, and lit up a
cigarette. She felt she might need it.
“We know what you’ve planned
and it sounds a fuckin’ great idea,” said Penny.
“I can see the pre-program
publicity we’ll get, sensational. But you know how Condy
Conty feels about things like this.
“And you yourself, Della,
are always lecturing us about the problems associated with using amateurs in a
dominatrix role.
“We’ll have hardly got the
flogger introduced than Condy will be on your
earpiece screaming blue murder. It’ll never work.”
Penny finished her comments,
then dragged Della’s pack of cigarettes and lit one, exhaling a long plume of
blue-grey smoke and looking around the room.
Nods from Karla, Claudia,
Melody and Jenna told her they all agreed with Della’s most experienced
camerawoman.
Della smiled, sucked on her
cigarette, and smiled at the pert-breasted veteran. “Penny, normally I’d agree,
and I’d agree 100 per cent,” she said. “But this IS going to work.
“Look, this flogger is NOT a
novice. She’s the proud owner of two cockslut slaves,
she works out regularly with the lash on their backs – and fronts!
“And, to head Condy off at the pass, I’m gonna
call her, spell out the plan and we’ll take it from there. Trust me, if anyone
can sweet talk her, I can.”
Penny dragged on her
cigarette and smiled grimly. “If you can, and I don’t think it’s possible, I’ll
drink your first piss flow of the day tomorrow – er,
hold on, not tomorrow, you’ll need that for the P-120 slave.
“All right, the first piss
flow of the day after tomorrow. But – and it’s a BIG but, Della – if you don’t,
then you drink my first piss of the day on the same morning.”
Della grinned and pretended
to consider the “bet”.
“It’s a deal,” she said
finally. But what Penny didn’t know was that Della had already spoken to Condy Conty – AND got the go
ahead!
It had been, Della thought,
looking back on her conversation with the stunning black producer, surprisingly
easy.
Condy had started full of bluster. “Bad
idea, Della, bad, bad, and just for good measure, bad. Nope, I’ll never
agree to it, the board will never agree to it. Scratch one really kinky
flogging idea!”
Della smiled at her nominal
“boss” back at Sex Sinema HQ.
“Look, Condy,”
she said, speaking to her director on a vid phone link during a break in
Jason’s front thigh torture, “I’ve done a lot of work on this.
“This woman’s the proud
owner of two cockslut slaves,
she’s used to working ‘em over on the cock and balls. And let’s face it, we don’t use leather on the C&BT section of the show
as you well know.
“This rubber flogger causes
intense irritation and burning and after an hour or so, intense agony, but they
don’t break the cunt’s flesh – well, not too much. And I’ve had the lady
checked out by the research department.
“When it comes down to it,
she’s an expert C&BT exponent. But, and this is my last comment, Condy, there’s a VERY big plus to all this.”
The big-breasted black woman
sucked on a cigarette and sighed. “I might have known it, Della. All right,
I’ll buy it – what is it?”
Della grinned at the
director back in New Los Angles City.
Then, breaking the word into
three segments, Della said: “Pub. Liss. Itty.”
And with a cheeky grin she
added: “Loads and loads of it!”
Condy looked intently at her lovely blonde superstar and
relented, a broad grin forming on her features. “Fuck, Della, you win – again!”
And that was something, Della knew only too well, Penny didn’t know when
she made her bet!
The following morning after
breakfast, Della chose her femdom outfit with care.
The final episode of chapter 7 demanded a highly erotic display for her
millions of fans.
Going against her usual
habit, Della got the lovely 18-year-old Karla to brush her fine blonde hair
until it gleamed. She applied her make-up carefully, her lips red with the
glistening sheen of female hauteur.
On her long legs, she pulled
her favorite black leather boots, which came half-way up her shapely thighs, the heels giving her
added height. The expensive leather shone dully and menacingly on her calves.
For the rest of her outfit,
she went for a quarter-cup bra in brilliant, blood red. From the central undercup of the garment and slim leather strand went down
to just past her navel, where it split into two straps which went between her
thighs and up between her ass cheeks to the waist belt. Naturally, it left her
closely cropped pubic bush bare, her very lickable
labia plainly in view.
The last item of apparel was
a pair of red rubber gloves, which came to just below her elbows and shone
brilliantly in the light. With a toss of her lovely head, Della looked in the
mirror.
“How do I look, Karla?” she
asked.
“As you should for the final
episode in a Punishment 120 chapter –
fuckin’ sensational,” said her young assistant,
totally truthfully.
Out in the lovely warm
sunshine, Della orchestrated the arrival of the cockslut
to his position for his final P-120 filming. The lad was no longer anally
intruded and his balls hung free, unencumbered by the prickly punishment pouch.
He was strapped by his
ankles and across the backs of his knees, to a frame which raised his genital
region to about three feet off the ground. His arms were pulled back so his
wrists could be strapped to his ankles, at the back of the kneeling frame.
On the slave’s midriff was a
pair of shiny black rubber, open-fronted pants. His cock and balls dangled
through the aperture, and around the aperture a leather cord had been inserted
and tied tightly to bunch his cock and balls.
The teenager’s thighs,
though, were covered by the rubber since only his cock and balls would be
targets for flagellation in this, his final flogging.
When the lad was in place,
Della walked in front of him and started filming her pre-flogging interview.
“Usually,” she told the
slave, “I interview your floggers first, and then you, cunt. But for the final
episode of this Punishment 120 we’re gonna introduce her later.
“Now, the lady will be
wearing a long rubber cape and a mask on her face. Mysterious,
eh? And that’s what you will call her, cunt – Mistress Mysterious. Got
it?”
The slut nodded his head.
“Yes, Mistress Della, I’ve got it,” he said, in a strong, clear voice.
“Right,” said his
interviewer. “Well, we’ll let you see her later. I’ll be back in an hour and 55
minutes, and we’ll start the count down to your last little flogging.”
And Della walked into the
canteen, where the flogger was waiting for her, dressed in a bright red, rubber
cape, which was clasped at her throat by a bright gold brooch, in the shape of
a whip.
The cape fell in shimmering
drapes to her booted ankles. In her hand she held a mask.
The woman, who had her
light, blonde hair dragged back from her head in a severe ponytail, was sipping
on a cup of coffee.
“Everything OK?” asked the
famous TV presenter.
“Yes, I think so,” said the
woman. “I’m a bit nervous right now, but I’m sure that once I get stuck into
it, I’ll thoroughly enjoy myself.”
When time was almost up for
the slut’s waiting period, Della finished her third coffee, stubbed out her
cigarette and nodded to the team.
They marched outside, the
“mystery flogger” pulling on a black leather mask which covered her forehead
and the top half of her face, down past her mouth.
In one of her rubber-gloved
hands she was holding a penis whip. The flogging implement consisted of a brown
leather handle, which led to a dozen rubber thongs, each tied with a knot at
the tip. The application of this torture item would, over a period of a couple
of hours, cause a stinging, intense pain, and usually – in about the last 30
minutes of torture – cuts.
Stepping in front of the
naked cockslut and making him chug down a glass of
chilled urine, Della smiled at the 18-year-old.
“Right, cunt,” she said,
“allow me to introduce you to your final flogger. Lovely
rubber, eh?”
The lad gulped and then
nodded, before replying, obediently: “Yes, Mistress Della, very nice.”
“Right,” said Della, “now
we’re almost there. It’s so close to the time limit, I’m gonna
re-set the clock now and you will count down from 10 to zero, and then ask
Mistress Mysterious to flog you. Go!”
And Della stepped back as
the lad counted backwards from 10 to 1, then zero and pleaded: “Mistress
Mysterious, please flog me!”
The woman obliged almost as
soon as the word “me” had fallen from the lad’s lips.
The 12-tails of the rubber
cat flashed in a downwards stroke onto the boy’s shaft. Then came a pause, and
next an upwards stroke whipped onto his scrotum. Each blow forced a wince from
the teenager.
For 10 minutes, Mistress
Mysterious dealt to the youngster, wielding the cock and ball whip with
dexterity against his naked genitals.
Then, in a pre-arranged
conversation, Della walked to the woman and smiled into her masked face.
“My dear,” she said, “you
must be getting rather hot in that rubber cape. Would you like me to remove it
for you?”
The woman nodded, and Della
unclipped the “whip brooch” at the whip artist’s throat, revealing a busty,
mature, woman wearing red rubber gloves which came to her elbows, and red
leather boots, which came to her knees.
Both red gloves and boots
contrasted admirably with the disguising black leather mask.
The woman then resumed the
lad’s flogging, but Della – who had instructed Penny to concentrate her camera
on the kid’s face – noticed a look of horror come across the boy’s features.
Mistress Mysterious, who was
big-busted, with large, brown nipples, and a fair-haired minge,
quite thick with lightish pubic hair, which was
matted from both sweat and sexual arousal, was still slowly flogging the boy’s
genitals.
Suddenly, the floodgates
opened.
A silent scream erupted in
his throat and his mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. No sound came,
until he blubbered, his cheeks now wet with teenage tears: “Oh fuck, no, no,
NO!
“MOMMMMMY!”
With a dramatic sweep of her
non-whip-wielding arm, the woman dragged the leather mask from her face to
reveal a pretty, blue-eyed woman, with a cruel, grinning face.
“Yes, cunt,” she snapped,
“it’s mommy and I’m gonna whip your sad fuckin’ cock and balls!”
Della, with a laugh and a
wave of her hand, called out: “Stop the clock, then I’ll interview our mystery
guest, and then she can get back to work on her rapist fuckin’
son!”
When the cameras had been
set up, and with the lad still sobbing where he knelt in the
cock-and-ball-flogging frame, Della stood alongside the big, busty mother.
“OK, the secret’s
out now, folks,” she said the cameras, “and as you all knew from the first
program, this cunt Jason here raped his momma, the incestuous motherfucker.
“So may I introduce to our
millions of viewers, the lovely Jenny Pearson, mother of this disgusting slave. Tell us a bit about yourself, Jenny!”
The blonde smiled at her
hostess. “Thank-you Della, and thank-you so VERY much
for allowing me to conduct this cunt’s last flogging on your show.
“Well, as you said, I’m
Jason’s mom, I’m 38, damn near 39, but as you can see, I keep fit. After I blew
the whistle on this pervert here, I sold him to Punishment Park and with the
proceeds I purchased two lovely cocksluts.
“I live in New Los Angeles
and have a lot of fun putting ‘em through their paces. And now I’m looking
forward to putting my rapist son, the cunt, through his!”
Della called out “Good luck,
Jenny – bad luck, Jason!” and then announced: “Clock back on, resume the
flogging!”
But the mother-flagellatrix was in no hurry to resume the whipping. First,
she had some taunting in mind.
Strolling to her
sweat-covered, sobbing son, 38-year-old Jenny Pearson placed a rubber-gloved
hand on his cock and smiled a cruel, vicious smile.
“Remember what you used to
do with this, cunt?” she said, softly, but Claudia’s excellent sound system
picked up every syllable.
The lad moaned, but made no
reply. The woman squeezed his nuts, and he screamed.
“Look at these cunt,” she
snapped, pressing her big, light-skinned breasts together. “Remember
tit-fucking these?”
The lad sobbed, but nodded.
“And remember what you made
me do when you were close to cumming, cunt?” And as
she asked the question, the mother of the slave slashed her whip down on his
cock, then up across his balls.
“Yes, mommy,” the lad
sobbed.
Another slash
with the cock flogger. “MISTRESS
MOMMY!” screamed the woman.
“Yes, Mistress Mommy,” cried
the strapped down slaveslut.
“What? Tell the viewers,
cunt!” shouted the lad’s mom.
“I put my cock in your
mouth, mommy, er, Mistress Mommy,” said the lad.
“And?” asked the woman,
slashing the lad’s genitals once, twice, three times as she queried the boy.
“I made you swallow my cum,” the slave sobbed.
“And you fucked me in the
ass, cunt, didn’t you?” asked the mother, slashing again at her son’s now
nicely-lacerated cock and balls.
“Yes, Mistress Mommy,”
answered the kid.
“And then what did you force
me to do with your smeared prick, you perverted fuck?” snapped Jenny Pearson.
“I made you suck it,
Mistress Mommy,” he sighed.
Slash, slash.
“And now you’re gonna fuckin’ pay, aren’t you,
cunt?” she demanded. Slash, slash.
“Yes, Mistress Mommy, yes,
yes, yes,” the lad shrieked.
Slash, slash. Pause. Slash, slash.
“Made me kneel in front of
your hard-on, didn’t you, cunt?” screamed the flogger. Slash,
slash.
“Yes, Mistress Mommy,” the
slut was sobbing copiously now.
“Every day for a week I was
your fuck toy, wasn’t I, cunt?”
“Yes, mistress,” said the
boy.
Slash, slash. “Mistress,” shouted the flogger. Slash,
slash. “Mommy,” she was shouting louder now. Slash,
slash. “Cunt!” came out almost as a scream. Slash,
slash.
The big-bodied blonde, her
breasts glistening with perspiration, the globes heaving, glared down at her
son.
“Well, cunt?” Slash, slash.
“Yes, Mistress Mommy,” came
his beaten reply.
And then Jenny Pearson
started in on her son.
Slash, slash. “Mother rapist!”
Slash, slash. “Mommy fucker!”
Slash, slash. “Sodomiser!”
Slash, slash. “Tit fucker!”
Slash, slash. “You turned me into a fellation machine!”
Slash, slash. “You kept cumming in my
mouth!”
Slash, slash. “And now you’re a fuckin’
slave!”
Slash, slash. “Pervert!”
After about half an hour of
cock and ball flogging, the lad’s agonies were intensifed
by Jenny Pearson pulling the foreskin of her victim back to the ring, thus
revealing a bright pink head of knob flesh.
The initial strokes produced
no remarked reaction, but soon as the knotted tips of the flogger started to
bite into the cockhead, the boy started to blubber and wail as his pain
progressed to another level.
All the flagellatory tirade was
faithfully captured by the cameras, and when the 38-year-old mother was finally
finished, a group of guards who had assembled to watch the final flogging of
Jason’s torment as a P-120 slave, broke into enthusiastic applause.
Jason, for his part, knelt
on the frame, his head slumped over to one side, his mangled cock and balls
glistening with the red strips of blood where his mother had mashed his flesh.
“Well done, Jenny,” said
Della, placing a friendly arm over the bare-busted, bare-minged
mom. “Now, let’s get out of this hot sun, and in a few cool drinks. Every now
and then, I’ll let you ‘refresh’ him with some nice cool urine, how’s that?”
Jenny Pearson grinned. “It’s
more than he fuckin’ deserves, Della, but if you
insist ....” And they laughed as they walked arm-in-arm into the coolness of
the canteen.
For the next two hours, the
rapist son knelt in the searing heat, visited three times by his mom who
allowed him to keep up his liquid intake by feeding him three large tumblers of
cold urine, and then they came to the finale of the boy’s six days’ torture.
“Now, Jason,” smiled Della,
looking at his anguish-ridden face, “it’s time to bath that poor prick and
balls in the horse’s piss. That’ll ease some of your pain, won’t it?”
The question was, of course,
rhetorical, and Jason’s mom then appeared with a bucket of the salty solution.
Hanging from each edge of the bucket were two straps of leather.
Jenny placed the bucket
beneath the boy’s balls, then, as Della held the bucket in place, the mother
put the straps around behind her son’s back and tied the ends together.
A shriek of appalling
shrillness rang out as this tying process pulled the bucket up until Jason’s
genitals were immersed in the liquid. As the urine started to attack the cuts
on his cock the screams rang out, sobbingly, keeningly
into the air.
Several times during his
final two hours, Jenny Pearson untied the bucket, and placed its rim to her
son’s mouth, making him gulp down mouthfuls of the awful piss. And then his screams rang out again as she once more immersed his
privates in the fetid water.
Then it was over, the mom
made the boy gulp down more piss, and Della was ending the sixth episode of
Jason’s ordeal with her sign-off.
“Well viewers, that’s the
end of Jason’s Punishment 120. A
special thanks to his lovely mom.”
Jenny Pearson made a small
bow to the cameras.
“And, of course, thanks to
our cockslut.”
Jason Pearson was sobbing.
“Now remember, folks,” Della
continued, “tune in next week when we bring you another new series of our
little show with a new little slave.”
Then she laughed. “Ooops, I forgot – there’s nothing LITTLE about him! Byeee!”
And that, as they say, was a
wrap.
Della walked away towards
her quarters, her hand tightly gripping Jenny Pearson’s elbow as she steered
the 38-year-old firmly in the direction of her suite.
“Jenny,” said Della, as they
entered the coolness of the suite, “I need to talk to you. And so does my
director.
“We’ve got an offer which we
hope you can’t refuse!”
To be continued.