Chapter 29

I holdmy breath in anticipation, expecting to be met with a crowd, bustling ambience and action, or anything, but the room is silent. It feels empty.

There is no carpet under my feet as I'm led along this time, only a cold tiled floor, and the room is echoey with the jangle of my chains. It's big. High ceiling, I think. I'm unsteady on my feet as the man guides me.

"Stop here," he says. "Arms up."

I raise my arms above my head, and he does something with the chains, connecting them with something up high. A hook, I think, for suspension. And yes, the cuffs start to rise and tighten. I'm winched up until my arms are stretched, barely able to touch the floor on tiptoes. My breaths are so ragged that the fabric of the hood grips me, and my senses are on overdrive, expecting something more, but he walks away. I hear his footsteps as he leaves, and a door closes behind him in the distance.

The room is silent. Literally silent. You could hear a pin drop.

It makes it more ominous.

I stay still for a while, waiting, but nothing happens. Nobody appears. I spin in the chains, listening out for something, anything, but there is nothing there. Bizarrely, the thought of being here, hooded in isolation, is more terrifying than being brutalised by a load of strangers. I feel so alone.

The seconds turn into minutes, and I'm cold now, teeth chattering as I try to balance, swaying in the shackles.

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

I pull on my chains, and they rattle but don't budge.

"Hello?" I say after a while. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

Silence.

I spin again, not sure which is this way, or that, and my mind begins to spin with me, coming up with crazy scenarios. Maybe this isn't a real proposal and I'm in some kind of psycho movie. Or things have gone wrong, and I've been kidnapped. I tell myself to stop being ridiculous. These are the founders, and this is a proposal. An Agency proposal, just like all the others. It's my mind playing tricks on me, and I know it. And so are they… they are playing with me, too.

It makes sense now. That's the point, isn't it? The realisation clicks like a switch.

It's part of the game. And I'm playing, too. I'm Holly here… not lost little Ella. It's time to start doing that justice.

I take deep breaths and steady myself as best I can, and I embrace the cold chill. My nipples must be like bullets. My skin will be so sensitive when the clients finally arrive.

I imagine warm, rough hands on me, and the sting of whips, and the pain of paddles, crops and canes. I think of cocks forcing their way inside me. My pussy, my ass, stretching, thrusting, hurting – and it excites me.

I want it to start. I want to be a pain slut. I want it all…

"Please," I say to the silence. "Please, come and use me. I want to serve you."

Still nothing, so I raise my voice.

"Please! Come and use me. I need to be hurt. I'm desperate."

I arch myself to show off my tits. I moan in the shackles, knowing full well I'm on display. I'm being watched.

"I'm not here for the money," I say to the emptiness. "I'm here because I'm a slut who needs to give service. Please let me serve you. Please let me hurt for you. I need this."

I wish I could play with myself like I did in the back of the car, but I can't, so I thrust my hips, imagining, clenching my thighs.

"Please," I say, my ankle shackles rattling as I do my best to buck on my tiptoes. "I know you're watching… I know you want me."

Silence. Just my panted breaths.

"Please?" my plea echoes around me.

Finally, I hear a door open. There are no voices, just a steady stream of incoming footsteps.

"Please, yes!" I say. "Make me serve. I'll take it all, I promise."

"That's a very serious promise," a voice replies, cold and deep. I feel a man approach me from the front, I hear his footsteps. I feel the electricity of his body standing before mine.

"I know it's a serious promise," I say, "but I mean it. I can show you. Just give me the chance."

A circle of people take place around me, their footsteps shuffling, and their breaths breaking into the silence, even through my hood. I tip my head back, and let the chains take my full weight, swaying in invitation. My stance says more than my words can. My body is on offer. I'm a filthy toy for their hardcore pleasure. A blank canvas, desperate to be painted by pain.

"We've heard about your pain slut talent," the voice says, and I note the heard not read.

He must be talking about the dungeon master of a client I played with. I smile at the memory.

"Then you must know I really am a desperate submissive who can take it."

"It?"

"Anything," I tell him, "whatever your pleasure is, I'll take it."

He laughs at that and so does someone else.

"We don't extend our invitations lightly, Holly."

"I don't expect the proposal to be delivered lightly, either. Please, Sir, let me serve."

Holly is owning my psyche now, taking control.

"It's Master here," the voice says. "I'm in primary control, but you will serve us all equally."

"Yes, Master. Thank you."

"You have beautiful tits," he says, his tone different. I gasp as he tugs at one of my nipples. "We're all going to enjoy hurting them, and you're going to enjoy it too, aren't you?"

"Yes, Master." I hope he can tell I'm smiling. "I'm going to enjoy it a lot."

"Then let's get started. And get those beautiful tits trussed up tight."

"Thank you, Master."

"Twine first," he says to someone off to the side, and I take a breath. Twine can be so ruthless it almost cuts, and he doesn't hold back as he binds me, one breast at a time, round and around before he ties them tight together. I feel them swelling, pulsing against the bonds. It feels good.

"Rope," he says, and he repeats the process with the thicker binding. This time he wraps the rope up and around my neck and hoists my tits high. They are tied so tight they must already be reddening. Swelling with the pain. It makes me proud to think of the sight.

"Clamps," he says to the person off to the side of him.

He takes hold of my nipples and stretches them, both at once. I arch into the tug, savouring the amazing feeling.

Then I flinch when he lets go and closes a clamp around each nipple at the same time.

He does it gently, but that only accentuates the bite. Crocodile clamps, the teeth pinching hard.

I hiss like a bitch when he taps them with his fingers.

"Your cunt can have some as well," he says, "show me."

I wonder how the hell I can show him when I'm teetering on my tiptoes with my ankles shackled. But two men arrive at my feet, warm hands, rough as they remove my ankle shackles and the connecting chain and whole lot goes clattering behind me. They take hold of my thighs and ass and lift me, opening my legs for him. My aching arms welcome the relief as the men take my weight and I can't believe how horny this is, exposed and hooded with my tits on fire. Master is obviously looking at my pussy. I wonder how many men are here, staring at me.

I flinch when he touches me, tugging at my pussy lips, stretching them. My body melts at his touch and prickles erupt on my skin. My shuddering breaths are loud and so is my yelp when he attaches the first clamp. It stings like a bastard but he doesn't pause. He fixes another clamp and another, and more. Six altogether, I think, three on each side, and I can feel the pull and the sting and the pain in my head morphing into lusty tingles. I want to tell him that it's good, so good, but don't get the chance. I can only groan out my pleasure when he rewards my subservience by rubbing his thick fingers up my slit.

Oh fuck, how it hurts so fucking nicely.

"You're a wet girl, Holly."

"It's because I like it, Master."

He pulls on the clamps and I yelp again. "These are going to hurt you really badly. You're going to be wearing them for a long, long time."

"That's good, Master."

He rubs me again, and my clit is so tender I moan. I want his fingers inside me, and I move my hips to urge him on.

"Desperate, aren't you?" he says.

"Yes. I'm so desperate, Master. I want to give you everything."

"Let's see if that holds true."

The men holding me ease my legs down and the shackles around my wrists tighten

He reaches around my neck and fastens my long hair into a makeshift bun, tucking it under my hood to leave my back on display, ready for a beating.

He steps away, and I hear a fresh set of footsteps approach from behind. Then comes the flick of a whip, and the holder swishes it through the air before it lands. Good strike. The first nasty lash is an excellent one, making me yelp and swing in my shackles. It must leave a lovely pink stripe in its wake, a pretty diagonal blaze between my shoulder blades.

It's ok, though. I know that I can take a whip like this. I'm already wired.

The rhythm is perfect, almost hypnotic as the flashes of the whip slice and stripe my back. Some of the strikes wrap around my ribcage, and I cry out louder at those, groaning like a true pain slut as the whip wielder manages to land some lashes across my bound tits. Fuck, yes how it hurts. The pain builds, and my cries become more frantic, but I don't fight, or protest, just accept the lashing I'm given, without a care.

I'm so lost in the grip of subspace that I barely notice my main Master stepping back up in front of me. He slaps my tits hard in their bonds before sliding his hand down between my legs.

"Just a taster, for being a good girl," he says, and pushes three fingers into my pussy. But I need more. I beg between whip lashes.

"Please, Master. Please give me more."

Another whip lash and he slides in another finger. But he's not deep enough. He's not making it hurt enough. It's just a tease to counter the screaming pain on my back, and the aching throb of my swollen tits.

The whip cracks stop for a moment, and I hear a shuffle of feet. Master keeps on fingering me, the clamps biting, the pain surreal, and the next round of lashes are harder, and to an entirely different tune. No rhythm, just wild strikes that have me screaming. I must have a criss-crossed mess of red welts across my back, but that doesn't mean shit to me. Another shuffle of feet and someone else starts up an attack, even harder.

And Master gets rougher, grinding his fingers inside me.

Oh, how I fucking screech.

I let my cries out freely, my fists clenching in my shackles. My breaths are frantic as the whip strikes change angle to wrap around my ribs, and they sear in pain with every blow – but when my swollen tits are caught by the lashes, it's beyond fire, and flames, and fury. It's pure unadulterated hell.

How I love hell like this.

I love being tortured by demons and handing them my slutty soul.

I lose track of the whip strikes, and the number of lashes. The sensations become a solid burn, like lightning bolts as the strikes hit, sparking like sin across my back.

Master yanks his fingers from me and I scream again when he lands some solid slaps across my tits.

"More?" he asks, and I nod, uncaring.

"Yes please, Master."

I can barely breathe when he twists my nipple clamps.

"More?" he asks but I can only scream through gritted teeth as he twists the clamps back and forth.

He twists harder and I squirm in my shackles, blind to just how much he's torturing me when the first paddle blow strikes across my ass cheeks and sends me forward into the bulk of my master. He's like a solid wall, big and strong. My nipple clamps press tight to his chest and they send poker hot flashes right through me.

But this is bliss. True bliss.

I can take a lot from a paddle, so it's almost a welcome relief from the whipping. I brace myself for the steady build up, and these guys know what they are doing. Tap, tap, tap then SMACK. Tap, tap, SMACK. Until the taps are gone and there are only hard, heavy smacks, faster and faster.

I'm a fish on a line, subject to their every whim.

Master hitches my thighs open, and the filthy games climb another rung on the hardcore ladder. Jesus wept, and so do I as my dirty clients use a vicious flogger between my legs from behind. I'm trembling and cursing as the swipes slash against the clamps on my pussy lips, but that's ok. I can take it. Or I think I can, until Master spreads me open like a tortured flower and the whip changes from a flogger to a single tailed monster. I hear it being tested in the air. They tease me by lashing my thighs first, and it hurts so much it scares me.

"You know what's coming, don't you?" Master asks me, and I moan.

"Yes, Master."

"We're going to whip your slit, and it's going to catch your clit, isn't it? Such beautiful torture."

"Yes, Master."

"Do you want to stop? Say the word, and I'll unbind you."

I pause, because my whole back feels lashed to shit, and my tits are aching and prickling, my pussy already savaged. It would be so easy to baulk at this.

"How many do I have to take?" I ask him.

"That is not for you to know," he says. "I'm asking you, do you want us to stop? Or are you going to sacrifice your cunt to us?"

You can do it, baby, I hear Josh in my fucked-up head.

Yes.

Yes, I fucking can do it.

I nod in my hood.

"Speak aloud," Master says. "Will you sacrifice your cunt?"

"Yes, Master. I'll sacrifice my cunt." I choke back the fear and find the fight, even though my whole body is trembling, arms aching in my shackles along with the rest of me. "Do whatever you want to my cunt. It's yours!" I shout. "Make it hurt, Master. I don't care. Do it!"

"Legs up and wide," he says, but his words aren't aimed at me.

Once again two guys are at my side. One grabs my right thigh. The other grabs my left. And I'm lifted a little, thighs spread wide. And again it's a welcome relief to have the full weight taken off my shackles. Or I think it is, until Master knots what feels like wire around each of my pussy clamps, one side of my slit at a time. He secures the wires tight around my thighs one by one, spreading my pussy lips open wide. Savage. This is beyond fucking savage.

"Last chance," he says. "Say the word, and I'll set you free."

"Do it," I tell him. "Just do it."

"Listen to me," he says and I'm hanging on his every fucking word. "You are in subspace right now, are you not?"

I nod. "Yes."

"There's a higher level, Holly. With your beautiful tits bound so tight and purple. And your equally beautiful cunt spread wide, with your pretty swollen clit on display, your flawless skin, striped and welted to perfection. Just one strike of the whip on your clit and subspace will explode, suck your soul right out of you, so bad that you might pass out. Can you handle that? Can you really give your master your cunt so willingly?"

My God, his voice, his tone. Despite everything, my clit is tingling for it.

For him.

"Yes, Master. My cunt is yours. I'll take whatever you give me," I reply, and I suck in deep breaths, in anticipation of how much this is going to hurt.

"Good girl," he says and oh fuck, how nice it is when his finger strokes my clit.

How nice it is when he gives it a little pinch before stepping back.

Shit.

The whip cracks behind me and I scream. But there's no contact. It cracks again and I yelp and brace. But no. He's testing the strike. Or testing me.

"Ready?" Master says, but he's not talking to me.

"Ready," the voice answers from behind me.

Oh fuck, now I really am bracing myself.

My anticipation is nothing compared to how it actually feels to have a whip lash hit my clit from behind. I scream like I've been sliced in two, trying to close my thighs, but the men holding them spread are too strong for me. I can't fight them.

They wait until I've quietened before I'm struck with a second blow, and it's like being electrocuted, my clit screaming in pain as loud as I am.

The next blow misses my clit but strikes the clamps on one side, and the searing pain is so bad it spins my mind. I hope I don't fucking pass out.

"Use your safe word if you need to," Master says.

I'm panting hard, my hood sucking in and out of my mouth.

"Holly! Safe word?"

"No!" I tell him and scream when the whip cracks and my pussy screams along with me.

"Again!" Master says and the whip wielder is in full flow.

…four, five, six and fucking seven, and I must be bleeding by now. The clamps are hurting so bad, and my clit feels like it's never going to cope with so much as a touch again. My safe word is on my tongue, it really fucking is.

"More!" Master yells and then it happens.

The whip wielder is steady in his rhythm, strike after strike after strike and my soul lights up, pain morphing, until I'm floating in the warmest pleasure.

No pain. No sobs.

Just crazy, delirious pleasure and I don't ever want to come down.

"Stop!" I hear Master yell and I really could cry as the guys holding me lower my legs, and I'm back on my tiptoes.

"Did you see angels?" Master whispers next to my ear.

"Practically," I tell him, panting, "I was definitely flying high."

"Good girl," he says, "Now, how about we grant you the privilege of making it feel nice again down here?" Master asks, but I flinch, because he can't make it feel nice again. Not yet. Nothing will make it feel nice again. My cunt, my tits, my back, my ass, my whole fucking body is on fire.

Still, despite common sense, Holly, nods. I nod.

"Yes please, Master."

"Brace yourself."

I curse as he takes my nipple clamps off, one by one. Someone cuts the wires holding the pussy clamps to my thighs, and spreads me open to remove them, one savage little beast at a time.

My blood pumps, and my most sensitive parts throb in agony, but there is something from the depths rising up in me. I still want this.

I think it's Master's tongue that laps at my nipple, so gently. I think it's his mouth that warms my poor throbbing tits, and laps and sucks. And through the pain, it's soothing. Slowly, the throbs of agony turn to tingles, sparking a path right down between my legs.

Master pulls away, and another mouth replaces his, tongue flicking. Another man comes up to the other side, and both nipples are soothed and teased at once. It feels surreal, incredible.

I'd hold their heads to me if I could.

"I'm going to be the first inside you," Master says, and I realise he's behind me now. His fingers are lubed up, thick and wet as he strokes them between my savaged pussy lips, and he's fully aware of what he's doing, barely touching my clit – just a whisper. And that whisper is enough to drive me wild.

"Spread her legs again," he says, and once again I'm manhandled into position, but the mouths on my tits don't go away, they are replaced by fresh ones. I can tell the difference. It's such a glorious feeling as they alternate. I'm consumed by the sensation so much that I almost miss the first thrust of Master working his cock against my slit from behind.

The tips of his fingers are still brushing my clit as he inches his way inside me, and I get a wave of familiarity at the longing to have a cock buried deep.

I need to be fucked.

I need to be used inside as well as out.

"You're everything I hoped you would be," Master says, shoving his cock all the way in.

If I wasn't gritting my teeth so hard at the pulsing pain, I'd tell him his cock was everything I hoped it would be, too. Long and thick.

I try to focus on the friction inside me and the mouths sucking on my tits as he fucks me.

He angles his cock head and it grinds against the spot. He's skilled… so fucking skilled. I let him know it with whimpers, and he presses his mouth to my ear through my hood.

"I told you it would be a privilege to feel nice again, and I wasn't lying, was I?"

"No, Master. No."

"Sacrifice is the way. Are you truly willing now? Do you have enough faith to surrender?"

I thought I'd already surrendered, but there's an edge to his voice that seems so certain I haven't, as though he can see into my soul.

I've been a pain slut, and I've done what I'm told and accepted what I'm given. I've let the headiness of submission drive me wild… but surrender… there's something about it that feels different.

Surrender.

Surrender to what?

Surrender of trust, completely to them?

Surrender of everything.

That's what his tone says as he fucks me, pounding me with perfect thrusts of his cock.

"It's about sacrifice," he says again. "Sacrifice leads to true surrender."

It feels almost sacred. Holy.

"Are you willing?"

"Yes, Master," I hear myself saying. "I'm willing to surrender."

"Good girl," he says again.

He pulls his cock from my pussy, and his accomplices drop my thighs. The mouths on my tits disappear and someone takes me down from the suspension hook. And then my clients do what I'd never have imagined. They take the cuffs from my wrists, freeing me from my bonds and holding me steady.

I am free. Unbound.

I could take my hood off if I wanted to right now, and say fuck it to anonymity, but I wouldn't dare. I wouldn't want to.

"This way," Master says, and hooks an arm under mine, supporting me as he leads me somewhere, until my feet touch a rug, so different to the coldness of the tiles. "Lie down on the floor and get ready to serve," he tells me, and he helps me down. I breathe deeply as I get in position, limbs spread and inviting, my tied-up tits still pulsing with pain.

But it's nice now. Nice, soothing pain.

I hear people bustling around me, and some of them drop to their knees. Fingers twist my nipples, and hands land slaps on my bruised tits, but I don't protest, just moan, grateful.

I cry out a thank you for the first cock that slams inside my pussy. It's not Master's. It's shorter, thicker. I cry thank you again as that same man lifts me up enough to push his slick cock into my ass with no warning, and thank you again as another guy takes his place in my pussy. Double penetration with a sore cunt, but I love it. I'd do it all night long.

I'm manhandled by so many different men, wrenching me into so many different positions as cocks take their turns, but my favourite position is on all fours – slamming my hips back against whichever random cocks want to use me. Ass, pussy, both, I don't care. I only wish they could take my mouth, too.

It doesn't matter how hard I'm fucked though, or how much I slam back, not a single man comes inside me. Not yet. It's me who is growing desperate, not them, angling and begging for harder, but they don't let me come, either – just take me to the edge and leave me begging.

It's one long, dirty, heady game and it really is something else, way off the scale.

I don't know whether the same dicks are using my ass and pussy, one after the other, back and forth. I don't know who the cocks belong to, or how many men are taking it in turns. I'm just a slut with raw flesh, still bruised and hurting.

A damn horny one at that.

"Time to earn your next pleasure," Master says, and I smile under my hood at the sound of his voice.

"Thank you, Master."

I'm still on all fours when he trails a bunch of what feels like soft grass down my back. I don't understand until the bitter tingles flare up just a moment later. Stinging nettles. Master has a bouquet of fucking stinging nettles in his hands, and he lashes my existing wounds with them.

"Yes!" I say as another round of pain soaks me up. "Fuck, yes!" as my skin prickles and sears.

It hurts so fucking bad, but it's a whole other tune, a whole other zone.

"Sacrifice, Holly, remember?"

"Yes, Master."

I can still feel the host of bodies around me. I can smell the sex in the air, my pussy wet and hungry. I know what Master wants, and I spread my knees wide on the rug, dropping myself down from all fours to reach back and spread my ass cheeks for him.

Sacrifice.

He trails the nettles up my inner thighs first, and I smile as the heat of the tingles stings like a bastard. He rubs them over my exposed asshole, and it's worse there, the pain makes me hiss and groan, hiss and groan. My ass burns, the hot bristles attacking me, and I'm nervous of what's coming next. I brace my knees, assuring myself I'm not going to close them, not for anything.

Sacrifice.

Holy fucking hell on earth, when Master grinds the stinging nettles against my battered, torn slit, it's like fireworks of blinding agony zap through my whole fucking body. He circles my clit with them, tempting my pleasure through the pain as fire blazes between my legs.

"You can come, Holly. Sacrifice yourself to the pain, and the pleasure will reward you."

My cunt is burning up. I'm gasping. Can I come? Really?

"Rock those hips," Master says. "Take it."

I float into the pain pulsing through me, into the subspace I love so much, and I do what he wants me to do. I work myself against his fingers as he plays with me. I must be mottling up, but the spiky heat of a thousand prickles blur into one, and I give myself over to him completely. I give him my very soul.

This is sacrifice. This is surrender.

This is the freedom in giving up the fight.

This is why I'm such a submissive in the first place.

Yes. I can come like this.

I'm going to come for him.

But then he moves.

"No, please," I manage to say as I feel a fresh batch of nettles brush my thighs, because surely not. He can't. I feel him lining them up, still playing with my slit as his fingers position themselves at the entrance to my needy cunt.

"Use your safe word if you want me to stop," Master says, and I fight myself all over again, but it's easier this time.

I have less resistance.

I'm a more willing sacrifice.

"Beg me to fuck you," Master says. "Beg me. Do you want the solid burn of pain deep inside?"

I summon my strength, hips rocking as he works my clit.

"Please, Master, fuck me. Fuck me with nettles. Fuck me with anything, just fuck me, please."

"You're so sore, Holly. Your cunt is in such a beautiful state."

I imagine the state of me. My pussy lips must be torn from the clips. I must be lashed red, and some strikes must have cut. And I've been pounded by so many cocks, I've lost count.

"I wish I could see my fucked-up whore cunt," I tell him. "I'd love to see how much you've hurt me."

"That's your own pleasure for later. For now, you'll have to take my word for it, and beg for more."

"Please, Master. Fuck me up some more. Fuck me up. I sacrifice myself to you. I surrender!"

"And this is why we chose you," he says.

He must have gloves on, because his fingers feel rubbery as he pushes them inside me, covered by nettles. The sick bastard finger fucks my pussy with stinging nettles that sear my insides like fucking sin, and the men groan and grunt in pleasure around him.

It only spurs me on.

"More," I tell him through the pain. "I can take more than that, and you know it."

Another finger, and he goes deeper, but that's not enough. It's not even close.

"Come on!" I say, still squirming against the nettles on my desperate clit. "All the way fucking in! You want me to call you, Master, then show me you are one! Show me you deserve it, like I've shown you!"

He squeezes my ass cheek hard with his other hand and shunts his fingers deep and fuck it blazes like sin inside me.

I hiss and curse but still I push back against him.

The men around me are growing frantic, I hear the sound of hands working cocks, and wish again that I could see it.

"I'll show you what Master means," my master says, and he twists his fucking fingers inside me.

I cry out when he stretches me like a true dominant, rough as a beast, and it's violent. Time stands still as he uses me, opening me up. I don't fight him, I help. I buck back against his hand until his whole fucking fist is in there, burning like hell.

He turns his fist inside me and the blazing pain eats me whole.

I almost collapse, and only stay in place because his fist is holding me there.

I had no idea I could take this. None at all. Maybe I'll regret it later, but right now I'm actually smiling, my soul dancing in the bliss of hardcore heaven once again.

"I'm not pulling out," Master says. "Give me your safe word, if you need to stop."

What fucking safe word?

"More!" I manage to say and I scream like a fucking savage, nothing but feral as the guys take it in turns to fuck my ass, with Master's burning fist still buried deep in my pussy. This is insanity. I've lost my mind, and I've lost my body, but I don't care. I'm as loud as I want to be, and nobody stops me, they just use me like I deserve to be used as I curse and yell and buck back at them. And they do come this time. My ass is filled to the brim, cum trailing down my lashed thighs as Master twists his fist inside me.

I love it all.

Everything becomes a delusional, crazy, animalistic mess of a blur. My senses are fucked from being hooded, and I'm exhausted, my whole body screaming as I wail and cry, and still I beg for more. Guys jerk their cocks all around me with grunts and groans, and they unload into my ass, until it must be a filled up to the max, and then finally – when I really have earnt it with every scrap of my soul – Master circles my clit with the tips of his gloved fingers, his other fist still in my pussy as he grates a knuckle on the inside. The right fucking spot.

Fuck.

Oh fuck, it's like heaven in hell.

I come for him with white lights behind my eyes, and I'm such a crazy, horny bitch that I squirt as I do it, gushing around his wrist.

"Thank you, Master," I tell him as he eases his fist out of me, then I collapse onto the floor like a fish out of water.

I'm relieved when I feel him taking out the nettles with care, stretching me open to make sure he's taken every single one.

"Don't worry, Holly. Nettles don't do damage. Not permanently. They are a such a stunning natural pain."

Right now, I don't give a shit about damage.

I wonder if it's over. It feels like I'm done. Like there's nothing more to give or take.

Or have we only just started? My throbbing body has lost all track of time.

I start in shock as he hitches my ass up and lines himself up between my legs. He nudges his cock against my burning pussy.

"You're not the only one who understands the pain of sacrifice in the name of pleasure," he says, and then he thrusts his cock inside me, using the trap of fire for his own thrill.

It must be as painful for him as it is for me. He's hissing and grunting with every thrust but I shunt back at him, urging him on. Harder, harder, harder. Give me your cum, Master, please!

I'm back in the crazy zone as he slams into me, my soul flying high. I use every bit of strength in my trained pussy to squeeze his cock tight through the pain, and I feel on top of the world as he gives it to me. His hips slam hard and he curses as he unloads, leaving his thick cream inside to ease my pussy, and the joy I'm feeling at making Master come is another heady zone altogether.

The atmosphere in the room changes in a flash, bodies shuffling and getting out of the way before Master catches his breath.

"Stay still," he says, pulling out of me.

I'm panting like a bitch, trembling and burning up, but I do as I'm told, wondering what the fuck he's going to do next as I hear him moving about, imagining two fists in the pussy – is that even possible?

I feel him back next to me, kneeling by my thigh. "Some cooling relief," he says and fuck how I jump when he douches me. Squirt after squirt of cold water fills me up and I push it out on instinct.

"Thank you, Master," I say as he keeps on going, moaning at the relief as the fire inside weakens to a throb.

Finally, he helps me to my feet.

"Don't take your hood off."

"I won't," I tell him.

I guess it must be over. I'm not sure if I want it to be.

"Thank you, Master," I say again.

"You did well, Holly," he says and holy fucking shit, how it hurts as he unbinds my tits. I cross my arms over my chest, knowing I'm going to be feeling it for days, but he doesn't stop me from covering myself. I'm not told to put my hands down by my side.

"There will be a drink in the back seat of the Bentley for you," he says. "The hood is big enough that you can untie it and drink without having to take it off."

It's only then that I realise how parched I am. Exhausted, battered, breathless and desperate for a drink.

"Please be aware you'll take some time to recover from this. There will also be some ointment next to you in the back seat of the Bentley. It will ease any nettle symptoms, so use it liberally." He pauses. "It won't have the same effect on your other wounds, though. They will need a different kind of care and attention."

I laugh under the hood, high as a kite on endorphins.

"Yeah, I, um, expect that might be the case."

"You may well need to postpone one or two of your proposals, actually. The games became especially heated," he says, and I can tell his eyes are roving all over me. "Don't worry, we can handle that for you. Please just mark out your calendar availability on the app, and I'll have Orla reorganise your schedule. We'll reimburse you for the lost opportunities."

"On top of sixty grand? Seriously?" I feel surprisingly at ease as I speak to him. "Really, Master, you don't have to do that. You've given me enough already."

"No, Holly. You've earnt your fee. That's a different thing entirely."

I get a weird rush of pride.

I did it. I made it through every fucking minute, even when I wanted to buckle and run.

"Let me get the butler to accompany you," he says, and I get the closest thing to morning after syndrome I've felt in a while.

I have so many questions I want to ask him, and as for this hood – it would be so tempting to pull it off right here and now.

But that's not what entertainers do. We're professionals, here to do a job. I've done mine now, and it's time to go home.

I wish I'd have picked PJs to wear instead of tight-fitting PVC and stilettos when the butler comes to collect me and takes me away to get me dressed. Damn it, it feels like I'm wrapped in plastic, pressing on raw, wounded skin. He tries to be gentle, but there is no way. I grapple with the zip myself, to get it done and over with.

It's a lot less comfortable a ride on the way home than it was on the way to the proposal. Understatement of my lifetime.

Sure enough, I find a bottle of water, and a tub which must be ‘ointment'. I manage to take a swig of water while still leaving my hood on, and fight the urge to attempt to use my phone in my hood as well. I really want to send Josh a DS message after that performance. He must be worried sick about me, since there's no way he didn't know the scale of what these guys wanted or where the fuck they were taking me. Tiff must have given him a rundown after her go with them. Hers must have been at least as hardcore as mine, and I bet she's done more of them. I wonder just how far they've pushed a vixen like her…

Hmm. Maybe I'll get to find out for myself.

I can hope.

It won't be for a while yet, though. No chance. I'll need some recovery time. Again. Understatement.

Thank fuck I have my incredible boyfriend waiting back home to help me.

The word gratitude could never cover it. Josh is a saint… and he's about to look after a dirty little sinner.

I know the proposal offered aftercare to get me home and comfortable, but I won't need that. Josh is already waiting outside in the parking area when we pull up and I take my hood off. I double take in shock as I open the door, because I haven't had so much as a chance to even find my phone yet, let alone message him a DS.

He helps me to my feet, and holds up a hand to the nameless driver.

"Josh, how did you…" I begin.

"The time," he says. "Six hours and thirty minutes back from the venue. I knew when you'd be due back here."

"I could have called time out earlier."

He smiles like I'm a goddess.

"I knew you wouldn't. There was no way you'd have used your safe word, and I knew it."

I wince as I take a step.

"Yeah, well maybe I should have. You have no idea how sliced up I am, seriously. I'm a fucking mess. The things they did to me. You wouldn't believe it."

He would, though. His smirk says it all.

My daze of a brain gets a grip of things, and it's obvious.

I'm not the only person he's met after a session with the founders. I'm likely not the first person he'll be helping recuperate in the aftermath. He's been here before, with Tiff getting out of the Bentley instead of me.

Josh looks at the ointment in my hand.

"I've heard rumours that might help an awful lot with internal burning."

"Rumours, yeah." I laugh. "I bet you have."

"So, tell me, baby. Would you prefer to limp or be carried?" he asks.

"Normally, I'd say carried, but right now, at the thought of having any kind of pressure on my ass… I think I'll limp a little, thanks. I'd appreciate an arm, though."

"You've got it. Whatever you want. Just say the word."

"I should have said the word about four hours ago if I had any damn sense in me. I must be insane."

His eyes are alive under the nightlights as he helps me along towards the courtyard. I'm grateful for the gift of sight to the max after being hooded for so long.

"Did you enjoy it?" he asks.

Even now, in the hell of the comedown, I have to grin.

"Yeah. I loved it."

He laughs and kisses my head.

"Then there's nothing insane about it."

"Let's see if I'm still saying that in the morning."

"Nah," he says. "What counts is what you'll be saying when another of their proposals comes through, and we both already know the answer to that."

I grin up at the tower above us, praising the stars.

Yes. We do.

I'll be clicking accept the very moment it arrives in my inbox, insane or not.