The Performance

She was resistant at first. Very resistant. He reminded her of the toys he would buy with the money. He described the cottage they would rent in the middle of a forest, and what he would do to her there. Her cunt flooded but still she resisted. He spoke of how proud he was of her, what a good little slave she was, and how he wanted to show her off. She started to soften. Then he grabbed her by the hair, pulled her ear close to his mouth, and hissed sternly, "Kitten? Do I have to get the cane? Or will you obey?" She recoiled at the hint of anger beneath the threat, and rapidly apologized and assented, sniffling a bit.

He found a tiny dark theatre-in-the-round, with steeply-raked rows of chairs on all sides. The seats were comfortable and covered in washable leatherette with plenty of leg room. He didn't want to risk a patron's hair being showered with cum from the member of the audience member behind him.

They placed a round bed in the middle of the small stage, and covered it with a fitted, cornflower-blue sheet, which would show off her red hair and pale skin as well as any wet spots. He knew she would create lots of wet spots. He knew she was an exhibitionist at heart.

The show sold out days ahead of time due to careful marketing through their blog and a grapevine of fellow perverts. Patrons filed in quickly. Some of them tried to be invisible while others greeted friends. Taking their seats, they considered the stage before them. Next to the bed was a chair, along with a table on which were displayed a blue vibrator, a very large purple dildo, a black butt plug, 2 cucumbers, 4 small empty bowls, and a cane with curved handle. Incongruously, there was also a Cuisinart food processor. A chain was locked to one leg of the bed, at the end of which was a thick iron shackle.

The house lights dimmed. Chatter died down. A large spot lit the bed while a smaller one illuminated the table and chair. A tall man walked out on the stage, his red hair smiling under the lights. Briefly, he thanked the audience for coming, which elicited a few chuckles, and reminded the assembly that the woman they were about to see belonged to HIM. They could watch but not touch, and were not to approach the stage.

The spots went out and the theatre was dark for about half a minute. When the lights came back on, a woman stood before them, eyes downcast. She, too, had red hair, and was clad in a man's white dress shirt. Her right ankle was surrounded by a chain of ordinary paper clips. Her legs and feet were bare.

"Strip, kitten. Now."

Trembling fingers opened the buttons one by one. The shirt slipped off her arms onto the floor. He said her name again, in a warning tone, and she bent over to pick it up, giving some of the audience a clear view of her anus and cunt lips. Hurriedly, she went to the chair and draped the shirt over its back. She then knelt beside her master's feet, looking up at him with trepidation.

"Now, kitten, show these good people how obedient you are. Show them what a good little sex slave you are. Lie down on the bed and spread your legs."

A little sob caught in her throat. Now that it was time, she didn't think she could do it after all. She murmured something, pleading.

"What did you say? Speak up. Let everyone hear you."

"Please, master... I can't... please don't make me."

"Now, kitten, don't be silly. Of course you are going to do it. All you need is a little spanking to get you in the mood. Right?" And sitting down in the chair he barked out "Over my knees. Now!"

Murmuring "Yes, sir," she rose from the ground and draped herself over his knees.

He started to spank, first lightly and then building up so that the smacks reverberated through the little hall, alternating with her small cries of pain. Men in the audience started pulling out their cocks, and the few women, most in skirts for easy access, fondled themselves through their damp panties.

SMACK.

SMACK.

SMACK.

Her ass started to glow and with each blow her body bounced against his own growing erection. He grabbed her hair, pulled up her head, and looked into her eyes. She was settling into subspace.

"Now, kitten. On the bed. NOW."

She roused herself enough to shake her head. She exasperated him, but he couldn't deny that this was making for a better show. And he was in the mood to hurt her, to punish her for how she was going to display herself. Yes, he knew this was illogical, as he was in fact forcing her to do it. But he was the dom. He didn't have to be logical.

"All right, that's enough brattiness. Now I'm really going to hurt you."

He stood up without letting go of her hair and dragged her to the bed. He threw her down on her belly, ass raised by a pillow and positioned near the edge of the mattress. Reaching down for the shackle, he clasped it around her left ankle. He knew it would boost her feeling of being owned, while forcing her to display her submission by holding still without being fully tied down.

She heard the leather slide through the belt loops of his jeans. He didn't hold anything back on the first blow.

He said nothing. He didn't make her count. He beat her hard, again and again, striking her cheeks and her thighs, making her scream, making her writhe, and making her very very wet. Her submission twined around her, clutching at her womb and driving from her consciousness everything but her master and her pain. She felt him kick her legs apart. The next blow, the hardest yet, caught her cunt.

Her anguished scream tore at the ears of the masturbaters.

He yanked up her head again. Her cheeks were wet with tears.

"Enough, kitten? I'm having fun but I don't think you are. Shall I keep beating your cunt, or are you ready to behave?"

The watchers couldn't catch her answer, but heard his "Good girl..." and saw him stroke her hair and kiss away her tears. Cautiously, she rolled over, gasping as she lay on her tender ass. She spread her legs under their eyes.

"Now show the nice people how you like to touch yourself."

Tentatively, she started to stroke around her clit, dipping into her cunt for a generous fingerful of honey. The beating had left her very sore but very aroused. It didn't take long for her to start writhing.

"Take your time, kitten. We promised a good show. Now move around the bed so everyone can see how red and juicy you are."

He released her ankle from the shackle, and she rotated around on her ass, finger never stopping its work, which was now focused right on her clit. Everyone got a good look indeed.

"Good girl... now let's see what we can stuff into you. Besides, I think it's time for a little snack."

The cucumbers were very fat, green and waxed. He had washed them ahead of time. Condoms wouldn't do for what he had in mind. And she was so turned on by the beating that there was no need for any more lubricant.

He handed her one of them, and she eased it into her cunt. Almost lovingly, she slid it in and out, raising her hips to meet the vegetable phallus. Pleasure showed on her face and little moans escaped her moist lips.

Silently, he touched her hand and withdrew the cuke, replacing it with the other one. As she continued to fuck herself, he strolled over to the table and nonchalantly proceeded to run the garden dildo through the food processor. He repeated the action with the second cuke, leaving her cunt gaping and hungry.

The slices were distributed between the 4 bowls and passed around the audience. Some of the masturbaters sniffed their portion and then rolled the thin slices around in their mouth before chewing and swallowing. A few took them in their hands and rubbed them over their dicks. A couple of the women tucked them inside their own slippery holes. Everyone was grateful for the unexpected treat.

Well, almost everyone. A few of the men had been identifying too closely with those fucking cucumbers, and were now a little nauseous from extreme castration anxiety.

Meanwhile, back on stage, kitten was getting restless, rolling around on the bed in her frustration. He smiled - he loved teasing her like that. He took the butt plug from the table. She had a virgin anus, and he relished the idea of humiliating her by invading it for the first time in public. She knew what was going to happen, she wanted it, and yet she feared it.

"Stick this in your cunt, kitten. Get it good and wet. This is the only lube you will have."

She obeyed. She was so aroused and wallowing in her submission that she was beyond protest. You could hear the slurps and sloshes as she rolled it around inside her.

He faced the audience and apologized. "I know we promised a pure masturbation scene, but I think she needs a little help on this one thing." He rolled her over, again propped her ass up on the pillow, and started easing the plug into her tight little hole. He had deliberately bought one a little too large for a first time. He couldn't pass up the opportunity to hurt her a little, to remind her that whatever she experienced, whether pleasure or pain, was at his whim.

She moaned, she gasped, she wriggled, he could tell it hurt, and he could tell she loved it. So could all the voyeurs. He sensed them craning forward and heard that they were moaning, too. He pulled the plug out a little before pushing it in a little further, dragging the insertion process out until with one final push he shoved it in as far as it would go. She was so aroused that the sheet was soggy with the honey dripping from her cunt.

He rolled her over onto her back, pulling away the pillow and tucking it under her head. For her, the audience had vanished; it was starting to fade away for him as well. He looked down at her fondly, lustfully, possessively, fiercely.

"Pinch your nipples for me, kitten. Harder! Pinch them, twist them. Until it hurts. Who owns those nipples?"

"You do, master. You own them." Her voice was small but definitive, and floated up to the last row.

"And your breasts, kitten. Gather them in your hands, squeeze them, push them together as if my cock lay between them. Who owns them, kitten? Who owns your breasts?

"You do, master. You own my breasts!"

"Lick your lips, kitten, those lips through which I will force my cock as soon as we are alone, those lips through which I will rape your mouth. Who owns them, kitten? Who owns your mouth?"

"You do, master. You own my lips. You own my mouth. It's YOUR mouth."

"Ah, you're such a good little slave. My perfect little fucktoy. Now take this huge purple monster of a dildo, which you hate because it's too big for you. Whose cunt are you going to fuck with it?"

"YOUR cunt, master. I'm fucking YOUR cunt. For YOU!"

"Who owns you, kitten? Who owns you?"

"YOU own me, master. You do. You know you do."

"YES! *I* own you. Others can look on your naked body, others can watch me hurt you, others can see how you fuck yourself, others can imagine that they are fucking you. But NO ONE gets to touch you. No one. You're MINE."

She fucked herself harder and faster, trying to remember that he owned her orgasms, she wasn't to cum until he ordered her to, she wasn't to cum until they got to the vibrator. She tried to hold herself back by thinking of the audience, but that only excited her more.

He knew her well, though, he was watching her face, he knew she was holding herself back.

"Do you want to cum, kitten? Shall I let you cum?" The question was almost gentle.

"Yes, master, please sir, please master, please let me cum. For YOU, master. Please let me cum for YOU."

He took from her the giant purple dildo, and handed her the blue vibrator. It had been a present from him. For his pleasure and hers. She LOVED her blue vibrator.

"Now. You are going to masturbate with your favorite toy. Any way you want. Fuck yourself. Stick it deep within you, turn it on, and let the vibrations seep into every corner of your body. Push it against your clit. Give yourself up to it, except for one tiny piece. Let these lovely horny people see how much you are enjoying yourself. Let them HEAR how much pleasure I'm allowing you. But keep holding back that one little piece until I give you permission to cum. Obey me, kitten, or you will be severely punished."

This was the hard part. Giving herself to it while holding back. Remembering that she was nothing, nothing but his sex slave, nothing but his fucktoy, nothing but his cockwhore. Remembering that her body was his, her pleasure and her pain came only at his hands or by his will, and that her orgasms were parceled out for his amusement alone.

He felt her struggle. They were bonded so tightly to each other that sometimes he wondered which of them was really the slave. He could barely control his desire to fuck her himself, barely control his desire to fasten his mouth on her clit, to let his tongue swim up the cavern of her sweet tight cunt, to force his cock down her throat and then roll her over one last time and drive it into her only slightly stretched ass.

Soon. Very soon. He just had to help her through this one last act.

"Now, kitten. Cum for me. Cum for me NOW."

She tried. She tried to let go. But she just couldn't. It was bottled up too tight. She was frozen with anxiety, with fear of not pleasing him, of not pleasing the voyeurs. She sensed that they were having a good time, and that some of them had cum already. But she did want to give them a grand finish. And most of all, she wanted to please her master. Every minute of the day, every breath she took, it was all to please him.

As he had at the beginning, he yanked her head up by the hair, and in a stage whisper pregnant with warning hissed "Now, slave. I'm going to count down from ten. And you had better cum by the time I get to one or I'm going to cane you. Hard. Harder than ever before. And I'll keep caning you till you either pass out from the pain or you cum for me. Is that clear?"

He almost never addressed her as "slave." It jolted her. She worked her clit with her fingers, spreading the juices around while the vibrator continued to buzz deep inside her.

"Ten.... Nine... Eight... kitten, you had better cum for me... seven... kitten, I'm going to cane you... six... your ass will be in shreds, kitten... five..."

The audience held its collective breath as it pumped and twiddled away.

"four... kitten, you'd better cum, you're going to be so sorry..."

He knew what he was doing. He knew how the threats excited her. It worked every single time. But just in case, he walked around the bed to the table.

He picked up the cane with his right hand and started tapping it on his left palm.

"three..."

She was rubbing frantically, desperately, reaching for the orgasm, so very afraid of disappointing him.

"two..........."

She felt him shove her legs apart, and then gasped as she felt the tap tap tap of the cane across her upper thighs.

"............ ONE!"

The cane smashed down, just missing her cunt.

She screamed.

And came.

And from the seats that ringed the stage, fountains of cum burst forth like fireworks and shot towards the ceiling.

All in all, a great success.

The audience tucked themselves back in and filed out.

On stage, she sobbed out the biggest orgasm of her life. He held her close, stroking her hair, kissing her eyes, whispering his love and approval to her hungry heart.