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The Final

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Welcome back, whip fans! It’s time for our third finalist to take to the scaffold. And I think the referee is about to call her up.

“Bobbie! Remove your robe and prepare to be secured!”

And she’s up the steps before all the words are even out of his mouth! Not only that, her robe isn’t going to make it with her! It’s already undone and is falling back to the ground, as the Mountain stomps aggressively onto the scaffold.

She’s not a woman who believes in too much teasing, and nudity seems to be her preferred state. But she still wants to put on a good show, so off she goes, striding up and down, waving her hands to encourage the crowd to cheer. Or even jeer, I don’t think she cares so long as she gets a reaction from them.

She has plenty of fans, though. There are many who appreciate a larger woman, and she’s certainly that. Thighs like maple trunks, breasts bigger, and probably heavier, than bowling balls and a bottom the size of Nova Scotia, I can almost feel the scaffold shaking from here as her feet pound up and down it’s wooden boards, and we can certainly see her voluptuous curves wobble and quiver with every violent movement.

Oh, she’s stopped and is turning and bending over. What a great view of that multi-title winning arse! It was only three weeks ago that she won the world tawse championship in Glasgow, outlasting her last challenger with her 323rd crack, and I believe I can still see some of the marks. I wonder if that will weaken her today?

She’s reaching behind and grabbing her bum cheeks. I wonder if she’s going to...? Yes, she is! She’s pulling them apart and giving the front rows a good look at her most intimate parts! And thanks to our director, who immediately ordered a close-up, everyone else gets to see her anus and hairy vagina on the big screen, and on TV at home. Hope you’re all watching in high definition!

She’s got a minute to play with, and I think she’s going to turn her attention to the Rebel and the Wild Woman, dangling helpless as they are. All perfectly within the rules as long as she doesn’t harm them. That’s the flagellator’s job. She makes no secret of being a dyke who loves a bit of girl flesh, and those two do look very tempting!

It looks like Barb’s going to get the treatment first. Yes, there she goes, pushing herself up against the poor helpless little thing! The Rebel’s perky breasts are dwarfed by the Mountain’s gigantic udders! Boy, did someone forget to milk that heifer this morning? And Barb’s flat six-pack is taking a pounding from that big blubbery belly.

Bobbie has one hand on those pert little boobies, and the other buried between Barb’s thighs. Her fingers seem to be getting very busy down there. We’re not sure whether Barb’s enjoying the attention, on account of her mouth being smothered by Bobbie’s in a very aggressive forced French kiss. We do know, though, from the many ex-lovers of both sexes who’ve been selling their stories as the Rebel climbed the ranks of professional BDSM, that she isn’t that choosy over who gets to share her bed and her body, so chances are she’s already making plans to invite the Mountain over for a private training session sometime!

The Wild Woman, though, is as straight as they come. She’s been staring at the scene in horror, probably hoping they’ll get so caught up in their debauched perverted act that the Mountain will forget about her. Oops, sorry Eulalia, looks like you’re out of luck!

Yes, she’s broken off her embrace with Barb, leaving the US national champion gasping as she hangs in her restraints. Now she’s bearing down on the Scottish lass, who’s cussing and shouting loudly, albeit incoherently. I can just about make out every fifth word. “Touch me..kill you...disgusting...cunny munching...perverted...bitch!” or something like that. It’s funny how her accent gets so much thicker the more passionate she gets! She’s also hauling at her chains frantically. She really ought to know by now, there’s no way she can get out of them. She’s been chained up in them often enough.

Bobbie’s shut her up immediately by mashing her lips to Eulalia’s, and she’s also grabbed a tit in each hand. Oh, now she’s squeezing those lovely Scottish nipples into hard points and rubbing them against her Canadian milk teats. Eulalia really doesn’t like that...but not as much as she dislikes THAT! The Mountain’s right hand has shot between those obscenely spread thighs and two fingers appear to have been thrust right into her pubic Saltire!

Luckily for her, Bobbie hasn’t got long before she has to submit herself to the cuffs, but I think she’s got time for a final trick. Yes, she’s turning round, she’s bending over...she’s twerking Eulalia! That big fat sweaty rump is being rubbed all over her soft smooth skin!

Oh, now Eulalia, that wasn’t very nice, was it? Spitting onto each of Bobbie’s bum cheeks! She was only trying to give you a bit of pleasure before your worlds all dissolve into a blur of agonising pain.

But the Mountain isn’t bothered, or at least, doesn’t have time to be. She’s back up and standing before her flagellator, a dark haired hunk this time, holding out her wrists. He’s buckling her in, and I think she’s going to say something to the crowd.

“He’d better make these good and tight. There’s a LOT of weight going to be hanging from them!”

Well, I can’t argue with that! And as the Mountain is hauled into place and her thighs pulled apart for the ankle cuffs – which, by the way, shows everyone the drops of moisture now decorating her thick pubic thatch, thank you again for the close-up, Mr Director – it’s time for another break. And then it’ll be the UK’s other hope in this competition who’ll be taking up the final place on the scaffold. Don’t go away!
 
And we’re back, thanks for staying with us. We’re almost done with the preliminaries now, but we’ve one more finalist to get chained up.

“FSG! Remove your robe and prepare to be secured!”

And here she comes, FSG or, as she’s better known, the Pig, on account of she’s always stuffing something juicy and delicious in her mouth. It’s usually food, although it isn’t always.

Today it’s a family size pork pie, and as she’s been eating it since she left the changing room it’s nearly finished. Just a couple more mouthfuls and it’s gone. Now off comes the robe, and I think it’s fair to say that’s no gym-toned body we’re looking at. More larder than stair master! Still, it doesn’t seem to make any difference to the amount of pain she can take. She’s the whipping champion of a country which has flagellation as the “English vice”, remember!

Now she’s reaching into her discarded robe to take out something she brought with her besides the pie. She’s holding it up for all to see, and we’re going to get a close-up. Yes, it’s her trademark three-speed vibrator! Something else we know about the Pig is that it isn’t just food she’s greedy for. It’s orgasms, too.

She also seems to want to make the most of being last onto the scaffold. She’s sauntered up to the Rebel and stood a couple of feet away from her. Oh, now she’s running her tongue up and down the length of her vibrator, while she starts to rub her own labia with her other hand. The Rebel looks a bit frustrated – maybe that clinch with the Mountain got her more fired up than we thought? Presumably a distraction tactic, which the Pig is now reinforcing!

Luckily for the Rebel the Pig waddles on to taunt our second finalist. Already seething at being sexually assaulted by a lesbian, the Wild Woman’s face is a picture of thunder, as another fat naked woman stands a few inches from her. And of course she saw what the Mountain did to her, so is she going to build on that and distract her focus even more? Yes she is! With an arm around her waist, she’s latched her mouth onto Eulalia’s right nipple (which is suspiciously erect – let’s be generous and put that down to the cold!). Meanwhile the head of the vibrator is being pushed up and down the Wild Woman’s highly decorated labia. A nice close-up there, showing how moist they are and how they’re slipping apart, despite the vibrator not even being switched on. I’m afraid you can’t put THAT down to the cold Eulalia, no matter how much you yell and curse. By the way, we can’t understand a word now. Is that Gaelic?

A quick suck now of the Wild Woman’s left nipple to even things up and it looks like it’s time for the Pig to come to the Mountain. And unlike the others, it looks as if she’s relishing whatever is in store for her over the next thirty seconds, going by the smile and the lick of the lips. She’s getting a dirty grin in reply from FSG. Of course, these two have trained together extensively, both in Canada and London, side by side in the torture chambers of some of the most skilled professional masters and mistresses, so it wouldn’t be be a complete surprise to find there’s something more between them besides mutual respect for a fellow competitor, and they also have their excessive size in common. I wonder if they call their training events fat camps?

Well, if the way the Pig is grabbing and squeezing those enormous breasts is anything to go by, there must be something going on! That’s a reunion of long lost lovers if ever I saw one! And there goes the mouth, clamped down on a teat like she expects to draw milk!

She’s still sucking, but also raising the vibrator in her right hand so we can all see that she’s switching it on. Can we have a close-up please, so we can see where it’s going? Oh yes! Right between those hairy vaginas!

Wow! We’re incredibly lucky to see such a demonstration of sapphic skill! They must have worked on these moves nearly as much as they have on upping their pain endurance levels! The Pig is alternating the head of the vibrator between her own clitoris and Bobbie’s, a few seconds on each, while she sucks, bites and gropes those massive hooters. And she definitely knows exactly what turns the Mountain on, if the quivers that are starting to shake the folds of her flesh are anything to go by! I only hope they don’t lose track of time – it’d be a tremendous shame to lose a finalist before the actual whipping begins!

Oh my word! Did you see that? They timed that perfectly! Both women thrust their labia together at exactly the same time, which must have put both clitorises on the vibrating head! And now they’re both shrieking in ecstasy!

The Pig is almost out on her feet as she stumbles back, and she’s even dropped the vibrator, still switched on, onto the scaffold floor. Luckily her flagellator is there to catch her, and like the others, he’s a big strong boy. Unlike the others, he’s black. He’s got her wrist cuffs on and is hauling her up as quickly as he can, which is just as well, as I think she has a serious cases of post-orgasm jelly legs. She doesn’t need to worry about that though, as her ankles are cuffed. She and Bobbie can just hang there and enjoy the glow, in front of a hundred thousand people here in the stadium, and millions of you watching at home. And judging by the way those two pairs of big beautiful breasts are heaving, they’re enjoying it very much.

So our finalists are all secured, it’s time for the main event to begin. We’ll take another break as the flagellators leave the scaffold to be issued with their official competition whips, but don’t worry, we’ll be back real soon. Stay tuned and you won’t miss a single stroke or scream!
 
fat slave girl said:
Not too far forward, but enough to reach a time when attitudes to non-vanilla sexual practices have taken a massive step forwards. Just as homosexuality has gone from a secret shame to part of everyday life, so BDSM can now be openly practiced and talked about. In fact, so mainstream has it become, there are even competitive events which revolve around favorite BDSM activities. Participants build up personas and followings, and punishments are milked for their entertainment value. Think professional wrestling, but without being rigged.
Click to expand...

Openness is me welcome but never I would present me as lover from the crucifixion.
And more: the sexual aspect is for me not-done, the erotic of course well.
 
Thanks for staying with us but really, where else would you go? Four very different but equally very beautiful women hung up naked, waiting for their flesh to be flayed by the most severe implement in the BDSM repertoire – the bullwhip. And I know you’ll all believe me when I tell you these whips are made from real bulls!

The final preparations are being made. A microphone on a stand is being placed at head height in front of each finalist. Of course this is to make sure everyone can hear the answer clearly when they’re asked if they want to quit or carry on. The fact we’ll also hear every grunt, scream and curse in crystal clear stereo is just a bonus.

And now a large bucket is being put between each pair of spread and shackled ankles. These girls are professionals at the top of their sport, and they’ll have taken all the necessary precautions, emptying their bladders immediately before leaving the changing rooms and having enemas about an hour before. In fact, I’m told the Mountain particularly enjoys that aspect of her warm-up! But no matter how well prepared you are, sometimes accidents do happen. This is an intense sport, and we don’t want any fluids or waste on the scaffold floor for the flagellators or the referee to slip on. Health and safety at all times! Although not for the finalists!

Before we start the CEO of the World Whipping Federation is going to run through the rules. Most of you will know them backwards but there are always viewers new to competitive flogging, especially for a world final. Welcome, and we hope you enjoy it. I also believe he has a special announcement about a new feature being introduced for this final. Over to you Sir.

“Thank you, and may I repeat the welcome to all new viewers and spectators. The lashes will be given in sets of ten, all four competitors receiving them simultaneously. After each set, they will all be asked if they wish to continue or be released. If they answer affirmatively they’ll receive another set. They can, of course, quit in the middle of a set, by shouting “halt!” into their microphone. Their flogging will stop immediately, while the others will continue with their sets of ten. Should a competitor be unable to answer in any way within thirty seconds after a set, either through exhaustion, over-emotion or unconsciousness, she will be deemed to have quite and be released and escorted, or carried, from the scaffold.

“The whippings will go on until three of the finalists have left the competition. The remaining girl must take a single stroke more than the third competitor to quit, in order to be crowned world whipping champion.

“Now because this is the world final, we have to make sure we get the best possible spectacle, to promote this new and exciting sport. I’m sure the girls will give everything they have, but to give them that little bit more encouragement to push themselves to, and over, their limits, we have an incentive. Can we have the crucifixes up on the big screen please?

“There, ladies and gentlemen, you can see three crosses. They’ve been erected right in the heart of the city centre, beside its busiest intersection. Each one is twelve feet high, each has a footrest and an eight-inch cornu, moulded from the erect member of one of the world’s top male porn stars. Each has leather cuffs attached to the ends of its arms and above the footrest. And each will be supporting the weight of one of our losers – I think the phrase ‘runners up’ is so liberal - for a full 24 hours after the contest. I imagine if your favourite gives up too soon, or you had a bet on one of them, you might want to drop by and let her know just how disappointed you are in her. And don’t worry if you can’t make it in person, the Shaming of the Losers, as we’re calling this bonus event, will be live streamed around the Internet, with a comments board underneath.

“So, I think we’re finally ready to whip some naked girl flesh! I’ll hand over to our match referee.”
 
So now it’s time for the main event! Time to find out which of these four girls has what it takes to become world whipping champion, and which three are going to end up dangling in shame from those crucifixes.

The flagellators are taking up position beside their respective finalists. A word about these guys. You may think they have the best job in the world, but they’ve worked incredibly hard to get here. If you meet the height and weight requirements, then you have to put in the hours at the gym, pumping those weights to get that muscle tone as good as it can possibly be. Then, when you’ve got all the aesthetics perfected, you have to learn the skill of each implement you’ll be required to use. And there’s a lot of skill involved, from using the Dragon cane and the notorious tendency of its tip to go off target, to knowing exactly how to use the biting tails of the Scottish tawse to maximum effect. And only the very best get to use the ultimate toy, the bullwhip. It’s so hard to master, its weight and length making it highly unpredictable.

But these guys have mastered it. I guarantee, every single stroke will go to exactly where on the naked body it was intended. And every one will also be of equal ferocity. That’s another skill which can only be learned through hours of practice – the delivering of ‘competition standard’ lashes, so no single competitor gains an advantage.

And, may I say, we seem to have four of the best-looking flagellators on the circuit on duty today. Well, it IS the world final, and it IS show business!

On the frame above each competitor you’ll see a digital counter, which will keep a tally of their strokes. Just taking their seats on a table at the back of the scaffold are the four touch judges. Each one has the responsibility of watching a specific girl to make sure every stroke is true and hard enough. Today we have two gentlemen and two ladies, resplendent in their World Whipping Federation blazers.

The flagellators are unfurling their whips. Made specially for this occasion, they’re four feet long, about two centimetres thick at the handle, tapering down to a fine point with a loop on the end, as per Federation specifications. Oh my! Eulalia’s flagellator gave his whip an experimental crack, and she squealed and rattled her chains like she was actually hit! That just shows the level of tension there is up on that scaffold! Everyone’s worked really hard to get here, nobody wants to lose!

The flagellators are all ready now, each standing behind his victim with feet planted apart in a powerful stance. The whips are held ready, the tips just touching the floor. Strong shoulders are braced and naked bodies are being assessed for where the first stroke will land. Just a reminder, this is the only discipline which doesn’t concentrate wholly on the buttocks. Out of every set of ten strokes, three have to be across the back, three across the bottom and three across the thighs. The touch judges will be monitoring this carefully. Where the tenth lands is at the discretion of the flagellators. Now I think our referee is going to get us underway!

“Flagellators! Are you ready?”

“We are!”

“Judges! Are you ready?”

“We are!”

“Finalists! Are you ready?”

“We are!”

“Then ten strokes – begin!”
 
CRACK!

Ooh! You could actually hear a hundred thousand people letting out their collective breath, as all four bullwhips snake angrily across their targets! And thanks to our state-of-the-art sound system, all those people heard four exclamations of shock and pain.

From the Rebel, a high pitched squeal, almost musical. From the Wild Woman, a piercing shriek, dare I suggest a little theatrical, maybe playing to what she knows the crowd have come for. The Mountain gives us a guttural grunt, fitting for a hardy Canadian. And from the Pig, a sort of snorting sound, surely well practised to fit her persona.

And let’s see where the maidens have taken their maiden strokes. Barb’s flagellator has gone straight for her tight little butt, no surprise really, since it is one of the most celebrated bottoms on the circuit. It’s diminutive size also makes it one of the hardest targets to hit with a bullwhip, but he’s managed a perfect red line across the centre of both cheeks. I imagine that will be the first of many.

Eulalia’s flagellator has gone for a high shot, a scarlet line drawn right across the shoulder blades. I imagine he’s a methodical workman who’s going to work his way down her body with each set of ten, and maybe back up it with the next set.

Like Barb, the Mountain’s taken one to the bum. It is quite a bum, of course, possibly the biggest on the circuit, so much easier to hit. Nevertheless, the livid wheal her flagellator has left her with is still a work of art.

The Pig’s opening stroke cut straight across the small of her back, which is an interesting and unusual choice. She’ll probably be getting them closely grouped together, which I’m told can intensify the experience.

But no time to dwell on the first stroke of so many for our finalists. Here come the rest of their first set!

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Ooh! Let’s all take a moment to catch our breath after that powerful opening salvo! The referee looks to the touch judges, who all raise their green paddles to indicate ten clean strokes for their respective finalists. And now he turns his attention to the girls themselves, who are huffing and puffing as they hang in their bonds.

“Barbara! Do you wish to quit?”

“Hell no!”

“Eulalia! Do you wish to quit?”

“Go fuck yourself, pencil dick!”

“Bobbie! Do you wish to quit?”

“I didn’t realise you’d started!”

“FSG! Do you wish to quit?”

“Not till these bitches are all a soggy, bloody pulp!”

Of course, an academic question at this stage and a simple “no, thank you” would have sufficed, but these girls didn’t get to the top of their game without learning showmanship. So onto our second set of ten!
 
Barb’s flagellator has gone straight for her tight little butt, no surprise really, since it is one of the most celebrated bottoms on the circuit. It’s diminutive size also makes it one of the hardest targets to hit with a bullwhip, but he’s managed a perfect red line across the centre of both cheeks. I imagine that will be the first of many.

And I was hoping my hard to hit tight little might be the difference in this contest! :(
 
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Oh, those were forty perfect strokes shared between our national champions! Chains are beginning to rattle as wrists and ankles strain at their cuffs. And weren’t those grunts, squeals, cries and curses almost in harmony? Four green paddles raised by the touch judges, and so it’s time to ask them again if they want to quit. I’ll be stunned if we get a yes from anyone at this stage, though.

“I’m just getting warmed up Sir!”

“More please, you bastards!”

“I’m so fat, there’s plenty of flesh you haven’t touched yet!”

“Keep it coming, boys!”

A colourful set of answers there! So here we go with our third set of ten.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Now I can tell you, even from up here, those strokes made a bit more of an impression. Our super HD cameras were even able to pick out in perfect detail the first flying drops of blood, as the whips cross wheals left by the first twenty lashes. Yes, the director’s showing us a view of them from behind and those lovely backs, bums and thighs are starting to look very ill-used. Eulalia in particular has a couple of lines across her back from which blood is trickling quite freely, all the way down to her bottom, until it drips into the waste bucket between her feet.

Time for the referee to ask the question again. I wonder if, with the rising pain levels taking up more of their concentration, we’ll hear quite such clever back chat this time?

“I’m not quitting till that Scotch bitch is carried away a bloody unconscious pulp!”

“You’ll have a long wait Yank! I’m going nowhere till these two fat sluts are off on stretchers. If they can find enough people to carry them!”

“If they do have to carry me off, it’ll be on the way back from carting what’s left of your skinny arses to hospital!”

“And then I’ll help carry you off, after I’ve taken the winning stroke. They’ll need all the help they can get to haul your massive gut back to the dressing room!”

Still sledging each other like the champions they are! So it’s time for strokes thirty-one to forty.
 
So the flagellators are ready, feet planted well apart, whipping arms raised, bullwhips extended over their shoulders, about to...hey, what’s going on?

I’m sorry, ladies and gentlemen, it looks like proceedings are going to be held up by an unscheduled interruption! It’s the curse of all major televised sporting events – we have a streaker!

He appears to be a middle-aged man with light brown hair and a thin wiry body. He must have been in a seat near the front, as he managed to strip off his clothes and run up the scaffold steps before any of the stewards even spotted him. Not that we usually need tight security at World Whipping Federation events – the guards often joke that they’re there to stop the competitors fleeing into the crowd!

Well, he seems to have the run of the stage for the moment, as the stewards muster themselves. And he has slogans written on his body, which he seems very keen to show to the cameras. He’s showing off his chest to us first. What does it say? “Nudeboy loves fat girls!” presumably he’s some sort of superfan and that’s his nickname. Well, I wonder which of our two voluptuous ladies he’s giving his support to?

Ah yes, he’s turned his back to the cameras and is pointing over his shoulder. “FSG for world champ” is across his back. Although, rather thoughtfully, he’s added “Bobbie for runner-up” across his buttocks.

He’s also really excited to be here, as we can all see from the full erection wobbling in front of him as he runs. Hopefully he’s not going to do anything with it...oh, my word!

Our uninvited guest Nudeboy has stepped right between FSG’s thighs! He’s grabbed her waist with both hands! His mouth has immediately latched onto her right nipple, where it’s now sucking furiously! And I think he’s going to...no, he can’t possibly...yes, he has! He’s slipped his hard penis right inside her!


She seems too shocked to object! She’s just hanging there, letting him pump it in and out! The flagellators are doing nothing except watch. While they’d be more than capable of overcoming him, presumably they’ve decided it’s not their job to intervene. I’m sure they’re deriving no pleasure at all from watching one of the finalists being raped in front of them!

Oh, it looks like he’s had enough now. Yes, he’s pulling out of FSG. Is he going to run off, to evade the large group of stewards which is currently being gathered? No! Much to the crowd’s amusement, he’s stepping between Bobbie’s tree trunk sized thighs and is getting ready to give her the same treatment! Yes, he’s grabbing fistfuls of her love handles! He’s got a mouth completely FULL of her breastflesh! And there he goes! He thrusts his hips, getting one of the biggest cheers of the day, as the helpless Mountain is ruthlessly and selfishly violated! And I thought we’d seen it all!
 
Luckily he didn’t get more than a few thrusts in before the stewards arrived and yanked him off Bobbie. He’s still rock hard, so neither lady had to endure the humiliation of having his semen spurted inside them. And I imagine both the Wild Woman and the Rebel will be incredibly relieved at not having had to endure the utter degradation of being publicly molested.

The stewards have the interloper with a firm grip on both arms, but it doesn’t seem to have dulled his enthusiasm. Why, even from here I can clearly see the juices from both vaginas glistening along the entire length of his shaft. Here comes the referee to make an announcement. Hopefully this doesn’t signal the contest being abandoned.

“Ladies and gentlemen, viewers around the world, I apologise for that unseemly interruption. As you all saw, not only was the contest disrupted, but a serious crime has been committed, namely multiple rape and sexual assault. I believe we have two choices. Suspend the final and call the authorities, or quickly deal with the offender in our own unique way then resume the contest. Which is it to be, ladies and gentlemen?”

Well, if the chorus of “deal with him, deal with him!” is anything to go by, I think the referee has his answer! And yes, it seems that was the answer they were expecting. Two stewards are bringing a punishment bench onto the scaffold and placing it front and centre between the Wild Woman and the Mountain. Behind them is a third steward carrying our old friend the Singapore Dragon cane.

Nudeboy, or whatever his real name is, is being led to the bench and pulled over it. He’s offering no resistance, probably having decided that would be pointless. He may also think the imminent flaying of his buttocks is a fair price to pay for having sunk his tool into the love holes of two national whipping champions. I wonder what he’d do for the chance to spend a whole night with one or both of them?

The stewards have him strapped down now, wrists, ankles and the heavy belt across his back obscuring the slogan championing FSG. The one across his bottom supporting Bobbie is now extra visible, seeing as how his bum is now raised higher than any other part of his body. Such a humiliating position of course, with his dangling gonads visible, quite literally, to the entire world, between his spread and secured thighs.

The referee is calling Barb’s flagellator to him and swapping his whip for the Dragon. He receives some kind of instruction and is taking up a position towering over the helpless man. Now I think we’re going to find out his sentence.

“Ten strokes, full force, from each flagellator. I think that should teach the required lesson!”

Well, I can hear one or two grumbles from theccrowd of “no! Twenty each! Thirty each! Forty!” But let’s not forget why we’re here. The referee wants to get this impromptu sideshow out of the way, then back to the main action. He’s crouching in front of the soon-to-be thrashed Nudeboy and holding his microphone up to the man’s mouth, so we all get to hear just how sorry he is. There’s a nod to the first flagellator and it’s time to begin this genuine punishment judicial caning.
 
CRACK! “AHHHHH!”

CRACK! “OOOOOH”

CRACK! “EEEEAHH!”

CRACK! “OOOWWW!”

CRACK! “OOOOH FUCK!”

CRACK! “AAAAAAAAHHHH!”

CRACK! “EEEEAHH!”

CRACK! “OH SHIT!”

CRACK! “OOOOWWW!”

CRACK! “ARRGHHH!”

Well they were ten strokes worthy of a world caning final ladies and gentlemen! And he’s only a quarter of the way through! AND he doesn’t get the chance to quit after every set! Our apologies, by the way, for his obscene choice of words after a couple of those strokes. He’s obviously in a very stressful situation. And it’s about to get worse for him.

Barb’s flagellator steps back, to be replaced by Eulalia’s, who’s taking the cane from him. He flexes it a couple of times, bending it almost in half, showing off his powerful muscles. A couple of experimental cuts through the air and he’s in position, taking careful aim. A nod from the referee, and we’re away!

Oh my word! These are being laid on even harder! There’s no need for every stroke to be of exactly the same standard, since this is not a competition, and I think the flagellators are enjoying their freedom. I can see sprays of blood rising from the last of those cuts and Nudeboy’s screams have been reduced to an unintelligible whimper.

At least they were over quickly, but he’s only half-way done. Now it’s the turn of Bobbie’s flagellator, who’s taking aim.

Oh, that’s interesting. He turned and spoke to Bobbie, the woman he’s been torturing up to now, and seemed to mouth the word “hard?” Of course, she was actually raped by Nudeboy, so has more cause to see him punished properly.

“Make the little bastard bleed!” Well, that answer couldn’t have been louder or more clear!

So the flagellators obviously feel protective of their girls, even if their main job is to cut their flesh to ribbons, until they can take no more.

Ooh! That first one really made its mark! And if the wail carried around the stadium by the PA system is anything to go by, Nudeboy now fully appreciates the gravity of his situation. And there’s no let up, either. The flagellator lays his ten on hard and fast, barely allowing his victim, or us, to draw breath. Each stroke is a masterpiece, the cane swung in a perfect arc from his shoulder to the waiting bottom, a demonstration of impeccable judicial caning. He’s breathing a little heavily as he stands back, while Nudeboy seems to be on the edge of consciousness.

He’s going to get his last ten regardless of whether he’s awake or not. FSG’s flagellator takes his place, his smooth ebony muscles already shining with sweat from wielding the bullwhip so effectively. He also turns to his woman to seek guidance. “Extra hard for your rapist?”


“Did he put his cock inside me? I didn’t feel anything – it is pretty small. But thrash him as hard as you can anyway.”

Oh, now wasn’t that a cutting put down! Not as cutting as that Singapore Dragon of course, but still pretty brutal. So here we go, the last ten of his forty strokes. His bum is now such a mess, with Bobbie’s slogan totally illegible, I can hardly bear to look. Although I will, of course, because it’s my job.

Ooooh! What a display of skill! It seems our flagellators are not only the best in the business with the bullwhip, but also some of the top caners in professional BDSM. And what a stroke, if you’ll pardon my use of the word, luck that we got to see them put on a show today. The cane’s cracking across his bottom at a uniform beat, but isn’t drumming up any sympathy with the crowd. In fact, you can hear the sadistic relish in their spontaneous chorus as they count off his last ten.

He, on the other hand, barely made any noise, apparently having passed out at the end of the first set. Yes, they’re undoing the buckles and lifting him off the bench, and he’s totally limp. And I mean, everywhere – that erection he made such good use of is a distant memory. Although...what’s that I see? Yes, there’s a smudge of what looks like a very wet and sticky substance right where his groin would have been laying! And a few drips falling from the end of his glans. Well, it looks like he got everything he came for after all!

So, as they carry the unconscious Nudeboy to be dumped, along with his clothes, on the street outside the arena, it’s back to the contest proper! Ladies, where were we?
 
CRACK! “AHHHHH!”

CRACK! “OOOOOH”

CRACK! “EEEEAHH!”

CRACK! “OOOWWW!”

CRACK! “OOOOH FUCK!”

CRACK! “AAAAAAAAHHHH!”

CRACK! “EEEEAHH!”

CRACK! “OH SHIT!”

CRACK! “OOOOWWW!”

CRACK! “ARRGHHH!”

Articulate expression during a good ass whipping was never a strong point with me :oops:
 
The flagellators are back in place behind their respective victims, bullwhips in hand, waiting for the referee to give them the signal to resume and deliver the delayed strokes thirty-one to forty. Barb will be up first of course, and her man is getting in position, planting his feet apart and trailing the whip out behind him, ready to swing it home. Everyone’s eager for this final to resume. In fact I do believe even Barb herself is pushing that pert, albeit bleeding bottom out in anticipation!

The referee raises his hand, gets a nod from the judges, the flagellator and Barb, and...yes! His arm drops and immediately the long length of leather cracks across her offered bottom! It’s good to see contestants and flagellators working together. It suggests we’re in for a long and entertaining session from both!

The distraction of having to temporarily switch implements hasn’t had any effect on the flagellator’s concentration, not that I would have expected it to. These guys are the best in the world at what they do. Look how those strokes are going up and down Barb’s slim body, like a snake striking its target every single time. The Rebel shows her appreciation with squeals and grunts, twisting those lithe hips in circles as wide as she can manage within the restrictions of her bonds.

Having dished out a workmanlike set of ten, her flagellator’s standing back, as Eulalia’s steps up to his mark. One flick of his meaty forearm sends the bullwhip trailing across the scaffold, and we’re waiting for the signal to go.

There it is! And he’s straight to work, obviously not wanting to be upstaged by his colleague. Nor, it would seem, does the Wild Woman want to play second fiddle to the Rebel. Just look at the way she’s dancing, her hips thrusting and circling, her smooth thighs and arms straining at the tight chains holding her spreadeagled. And don’t her pert breasts look magnificent, each time the whip lands and they’re thrust towards the crowd! It almost looks like a challenge – as if Eulalia would take on everyone in the stadium, if only she weren’t chained up!

And all too soon, it’s over. But fear not, now it’s time to flog the fat girls. First up is Bobbie, whose back, bottom and thighs are a delicious canvas of vivid red lines on a pink background. She’s closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, making those gargantuan breasts shudder, as she pulls on the chains, bracing herself for the onslaught.

The referee has his hand raised and...we’re off! The flagellator makes full use of having the broadest canvas on which to paint, this time starting right in the middle of her bum, with the mandatory three for that area. That keeps her on her toes – literally – as she tries to guess whether the next three will go high or low. I imagine you at home will be guessing too.

Oh, he goes low, the whip coiling around those meaty tree trunk thighs, pulling more blood and skin away with it every time it’s dragged violently over that soft plump flesh. Her screams go to show just how much that hurts. Inevitably that means three going high across her back and shoulders, and it sounds like they were pretty painful too.

So where is number 10 going? The joker in the pack? He winds up ready to deliver it. No indication yet where it will land. Oh my word! He finished that set where he started, right across the meat of the Mountain’s bottom! And it’s just as well the World Whipping Federation uses only the strongest chains, as Bobbie’s lurch forwarded tested them to the limit. I swear the people in the front row thought they were about to get flattened by a giant mound of sweating, bleeding Canadian bacon! It would have momentarily distracted from the enjoyment they’ve been getting from their perfect view of her hairy vagina and spread labia!

And finally in this sweep, it’s FSG’s turn. I wonder if she feels any guilt at the delay, given it was her crazed fan who caused it. Well if she is, this is the perfect way to assuage it. Her flagellator is ready, the referee and judges are ready, FSG is ready...and we’re off!

Her flagellator isn’t hanging about. It’s as if he’s trying to make up for lost time, the whip snaking across her shoulders and back to begin with. Now her bottom’s copping it. And now those great big thighs are getting their share. And does she not like that, going by the noise she’s making and the way her chains are rattling! She probably shouldn’t have let on that she’s getting so sensitive down there. Yes! That’s exactly where number ten went!

The judges have all confirmed that was forty legal strokes, so it’s time to ask the question of all our competitors – was that enough? As every time, we’ll go up the line from Barb to FSG and get their answers.

“Like fuck am I quitting!”

“I’m going nowhere till she’s gone!”

“I’m good. I – I can take more!”

“Well, I can’t let my fans down, even if they are crazy rapists!”

Now did I detect an edge of uncertainty from the Mountain? It would be a surprise if our multidisciplinary champion were to pull out first, but she’s still in it for the moment. So let’s have another set, with this one taking us to the half-century.
 
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