You’re the masochist of the group. 95% *** tolerance and everyone knows it. That’s why they put you in the center.
You’re on your knees, naked, hands tied behind your back. Around you stand four men and two women. Each of them is holding something: belts, floggers, wooden canes, bare hands.
The first one cracks his belt across your ass so hard the sound echoes through the whole room. Your skin turns red instantly. You don’t cry. You smile. So he gives you another one. And another. You count to ten and still beg for more.
The woman next to him grabs your hair, yanks your head up and spits in your face.
“Say it, filthy bitch. Say you’re the whore who only deserves to be beaten.”
You say it. Voice broken with pleasure.
Then they switch roles. They lift you up, flip you upside down and hold you by the legs. Now the beating hits your tits, your stomach, the insides of your thighs. Every strike makes you drip. Your high tolerance ***es them off. The more you take, the harder they hit.
At some point they make you hit too. They put the cane in your hand and order you to strike the man who was just beating you. You do it. Hard. You hear him growl and it makes you feel even dirtier, even more twisted. Then they flip you back and give you double.
They have you lying on the floor. One sits on your chest, another holds your legs open while the rest beat you in rhythm. One of them counts out loud:
“One… two… three…”
Every strike comes with insults:
“Slut.
Whore.
Masochist piece of trash.
You only exist to take a beating and cry from how much you love it.”
And you cry. But not from the ***. From how much you love being degraded like this.
When they’re done they leave you on your knees, bright red, sweaty, pussy dripping onto the floor. Someone grabs your hair, lifts your head and says:
“Now clean our shoes with your tongue, slut. And if you do it well… we’ll beat you again.”
And you already open your mouth.
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