| Subject: A Weekend in Hell |
Author:
Stan
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Date Posted: 12:38:03 11/09/17 Thu
I've always had a fantasy about a muscular guy overpowering me, tying me up, and giving me a whipping with his belt. Whenever I've gotten together with other guys, I'd let them whip my ass, but I would never let them tie me up. I was always too afraid of not being in control of the situation. And I'd tell them to stop when it began to hurt too much. But those scenes were never really very satisfying to me.
One time I attended a monthly S&M discussion group for gay people, and I related to the group my lack of satisfaction with the scenes I've had. The moderator suggested that what may actually be important for me in an S&M scene is not the physical pain being inflicted, but rather the surrendering of control to another guy. He said that involves some risk, but I may never obtain satisfaction any other way.
Someone in the audience suggested I spend a weekend in hell. At first, I thought he was just being flippant, but then he explained that there was a recurring 2-day workshop titled "A Weekend in Hell". It took place at a private gay resort in the nearby desert. He said the workshop was primarily designed to provide bottoms with a "stimulating" environment in which to overcome their fears and have a satisfying S&M experience. In other words, it was a sort of boot camp for bottoms.
I made inquiries regarding this workshop. It wasn't free, but it seemed reasonably priced. And it sounded like it was just what I needed. So I signed up for it. When I arrived at the workshop, the first thing we were asked to do was sign a legal waiver which basically stated that we gave our approval for any physical punishments that might be inflicted on us during the workshop and that they could not be held liable for the pain that we experienced. We also filled out a short questionnaire about our specific S&M interests and what we hoped to get out of the workshop.
Then we were instructed to choose a top who would be our personal "trainer" for the weekend. I chose a guy who looked friendly as well as attractive. We were told that our personal trainer would determine what punishments we would receive, and he would administer those punishments. Then, each bottom was paired off with the trainer he had selected. My trainer told me to follow him down a long hallway. He stopped at one door, opened it, and told me to enter the room. He said this would be my "personal punishment room". Then, he closed the door behind him and locked it. I felt like a prisoner in a dungeon when he locked that door.
The trainer asked me why I had come to the workshop, and I told him about my fears of being tied up during an S&M scene. He said that problem would be addressed shortly. He told me to take off all my clothes. I did as he ordered, but I felt very vulnerable being naked. There was a bed in the room, and he told me to lie face-down on it, which I did. Then he picked up a set of leather wrist and ankle restraints and said he was going to tie me down to the bed spread-eagled. I began to experience some anxiety, and I started sweating a little. He asked me if I trusted him enough to let him tie me up. I put on a brave front and replied "Yes", but I was actually scared to death. He then secured my wrists and ankles in the leather restraints and fastened them to the legs of the bed with rope.
I was surprised when he put a plastic disposable glove over his right hand. He dipped the fingers of the glove in a creamy white lotion and then he "fingered" me. It felt so good. He kept this up for about 10 minutes. I got so aroused by this that I temporarily forgot about my fear of being tied up. Then he took off the plastic glove and put on a thick leather glove over his right hand. He began spanking me with that gloved hand. Each time his gloved hand struck my ass, it felt like a heavy thud. Although it hurt a little, I also found it very arousing. Then he said he was going to give me a short break. He got on the bed and lay his body on top of mine. I got incredibly horny when I felt his warm breath on the back of my neck. I wondered if he was going to take advantage of my helpless position and fuck me while I was tied down. Secretly, I hoped that he would, but he didn't.
About 10 minutes later, he got off the bed. Standing there facing me, he said, "I think it's time you get acquainted with my belt!" I hadn't failed to notice the wide heavy leather belt he was wearing. I watched intently as he slowly unbuckled his belt, pulled it out of the belt loops of his jeans, and then doubled it over menacingly. He gave me 10 lashes on my ass with his belt. I was able to take those 10 lashes without a problem. Then he gave me 10 more lashes. He said, "You took those lashes quite easily. I think it's time to step up your punishment! I'm going to give you a lengthy whipping with my belt. At some point, it will probably be more than you can comfortably take. It's okay to cry or yell or even scream from the pain, but don't you dare order me to stop the whipping, or I will punish you severely with the razor strap!" Right after he said that, he picked up the razor strap, showed it to me, and then put it down again. Then he picked up his belt and began whipping me with it. I could tell right away that he was laying the strokes on much harder than before. He was administering the lashes at a steady pace, but now, there would be no more breaks. I found myself wincing with every stroke. I started crying from the pain which was getting worse and worse. And my crying got louder and louder. Eventually, I couldn't take the pain anymore, and I yelled out to the trainer to stop. Boy, was that a big mistake! He released me from the restraints, dragged me over to a sawhorse that was in the room, and tied me down with the leather restraints that were attached to it. He said, "I warned you that you would get punished with the razor strap if you told me to stop." He immediately picked up the razor strap and gave me 20 heavy lashes with it. He made no attempt at restraint. I screamed each time the razor strap struck my butt. After the 20th lash, he stopped, but I continued crying for another minute or two.
After that, he said, "Your lesson is over with for today. I think you've learned quite a lot." Boy, did I welcome that message. He said, "You can relax all afternoon by the swimming pool. Only one thing: Bottoms are not allowed to wear any clothing by the pool. Although I was a little self-conscious about my appearance, I overcame my reluctance and walked out to the pool area in the buff and sat in a chair. A number of other bottoms were also out by the pool. Whenever a bottom walked past me, I couldn't help noticing the marks on his behind. Those marks were generally black or dark purple, unless he had recently concluded his punishment, in which case, the marks might still be pink or red. Whenever I'd walk around the pool area, I'd get a few remarks from other trainers such as,"Nice marks on your ass!" As I walked by one trainer who was seated in a chair, he grabbed one of my arms and pulled me down over his lap. Then he held my upper body down with his left hand and gave me 20 swats on my ass with his right hand. Because my butt was still very tender from the razor strap whipping I had received, his hand spanking brought some tears to my eyes. I felt sorry for the bottoms who were especially attractive as they would get picked on for "extra-curricular" spankings by several tops.
Dinner took place at 7 pm, and we were told that the bottoms had to be dressed for that. Bedtime came early at 9 pm. My trainer took me back to my room. He told me to take off all my clothes. Then he placed me in a bondage belt. It resembled a garrison belt except that it was buckled behind me, and there were 2 leather loop restraints attached at the 10 o'clock and 2 o'clock positions into which he secured my wrists. My trainer told me I was going to sleep all night confined in that bondage belt, and he would be sleeping on the bed right next to me. There would be no escape from this hell!
After a couple hours of sleep, my trainer woke me up. He rolled me over onto my stomach. Then he spanked me hard for several minutes with his right hand. His hand didn't hurt nearly as much as his belt had. Then he rolled me over onto my back again and let me go back to sleep. I lie awake for about half an hour, expecting to get punished again, but when nothing happened, I eventually relaxed and drifted off to sleep.
But a couple hours later, I was woken up again by my trainer. He rolled me over onto my stomach. He got off the bed, picked up a wooden paddle and began spanking me with it. It hurt much worse than his belt. I desperately tried to free my hands from the loop restraints, but those efforts proved ineffective. It didn't take very long before I was screaming from the pain. But my screaming did not slow him down. He kept striking my ass with that paddle for several minutes. Then he suddenly stopped. I was thankful it was finally over with. But then, a couple minutes later, he picked up the paddle again and spanked me for several more minutes. Because my butt had not recovered from the first round with the paddle, the pain of the 2nd round proved unbearable. I was screaming uncontrollably. Then, he stopped again. I was wondering how much more of this torture I would have to endure. I was totally at his mercy. But just then, the trainer rolled me onto my back again, and he promised me he wouldn't punish me any more that night. Boy, was I relieved to hear that!
However, about an hour later, I woke up again. I thought my trainer had reneged on his promise, but then, I noticed that I was still lying on my back. He hadn't rolled me over onto my stomach. So my butt was protected (however tenuously) from any further punishment. Then I realized that what had woken me up were sounds coming from the room next door. The bottom in that room was screaming loudly, presumably from punishment being administered by his trainer. His screams went on for several minutes. Then the screaming stopped, although I could still hear the bottom crying and moaning. Several minutes later, there was complete silence. Suddenly, I heard the bottom yell out loud, "No! No! Not again!" and then the screaming started up once more, even louder than before. The bottom sounded like he was in total agony. His screams terrified me. I couldn't help thinking that I might end up screaming like that before the weekend was over with. The screaming continued for several more minutes. Then it stopped again. This alternation between screams and silence went on for over an hour. My trainer, who had also woken up from the noise next door, told me that the lengthy punishment in the next room was probably to correct an "attitude problem". He said the top next door had recently purchased a Canadian prison strap (reputed to be one of the most painful of punishment implements), and he was just itching for a legitimate excuse to try it out. And his bottom had apparently provided that excuse, judging from the intensity of his screams. Eventually, peace and quiet returned to the room next door.
Early next morning, we were woken up for our 2nd day in Hell. I doubt very many bottoms had gotten a good night's sleep between the nocturnal punishments inflicted on them by their own trainer and the screams of other bottoms being punished by their trainers. We were told to dress for breakfast, after which we were ordered back to our rooms. My trainer told me there would be a group meeting. He said that bottoms were to leave their clothes in their room. Once everyone had assembled in the meeting room, the workshop leader addressed the group and said, "I hope everyone has learned their lessons. One lesson I'm sure you learned yesterday was that you never order your top to do anything, such as stopping your punishment. Your top knows better than you how much punishment you need. From the reports given to me by the trainers, most of you had to learn that lesson the hard way, with the razor strap." That statement was immediately followed by some subdued grumbling from the bottoms. He continued, "There is an even more important lesson that you bottoms need to learn. You NEVER NEVER curse your top, call him derogatory names, or disrespect him in any other way. One trainer reported to me that, last night, his bottom flagrantly violated that rule and it was necessary to teach him a lesson he'd never forget. That bottom was then subjected to the most severe punishment for over an hour. Many of you probably heard his lengthy screams last night." Fearful moans arose from the bottoms in the audience. The leader continued, "After an hour of mandatory punishment, that bottom was informed that the punishment would continue until he acknowledged the error of his ways and apologized to his trainer. I'm happy to report that he did exactly that, without any additional coercion!
The leader continued, "Now, on to today's agenda. You will be happy to learn that your sore butts will have an opportunity to begin healing today. Your asses will be spared any further punishment." He then picked up a razor strap threateningly and said, "Of course, there may be a few exceptions for those bottoms who continue to violate the rules. You may now socialize here for about an hour until your next lesson begins."
I was curious what the bottom who had been severely punished had said to his trainer. Since all the bottoms were naked, I just checked out everyone's butt until I discovered one guy whose ass was totally black. I asked him if he was the bottom who had been severely punished for a full hour last night, and he replied, rather meekly, "Yes". I asked him what he had said to his trainer to deserve such punishment? He related, "I got pissed off when he woke me up in the middle of the night. I was sleeping in a bondage belt. He rolled me over onto my stomach and started whipping me with his belt. I called him a "No Good Mother F____r". He immediately took off the bondage belt, dragged me over by one arm to the sawhorse that was in the room, and tied my wrists and ankles to the leather restraints on that sawhorse. He told me, "You NEVER NEVER disrespect your top. I'm going to teach you a lesson you'll never forget!" He then picked up a short strap made of very thick leather with holes in it. He began whipping my ass with it. It was the most painful thing I had ever felt. He showed me no mercy. Then he'd stop the whipping for a few minutes but left me tied down on the sawhorse. Several minutes later, he'd start whipping my ass again and the pain was even worse than before. Then he'd stop for a few more minutes. Those repeated whippings went on for over an hour until it appeared he was done. But then he left me tied down on the sawhorse. I lay there, totally traumatized, unable to relax, and terrified that the excruciating pain of that terrible strap might return at any moment. But after a full hour of this psychological torture, he finally released me from the sawhorse and let me get back into the bed." After he finished his story, I walked away frightened that they would actually punish someone in the workshop that severely.
After an hour had passed, we were all instructed to go into the adjacent room. It was a very large room, about half the size of a typical high school gymnasium. The workshop leader said, "As I mentioned before, your butts are going to get the day off. Your lesson today will be about flogging. Yesterday's lesson was a private one-on-one lesson with your personal trainer, but today's lesson will be a group lesson. Everyone will witness your punishment today, and you will witness everyone else's punishment."
Near one wall of the room was a structure that resembled a football goal post, only much smaller. We were informed it was a whipping post. One at a time, each of us would be tied spread-eagle to that whipping post and subjected to a flogging on the back, administered by our trainer. We all gathered around the whipping post. The bottom's back would be facing us. The wall behind the whipping post was mirrored. So we could not only see the whip striking the bottom's back, but we could also see his facial reactions to the pain reflected in the mirror.
The first bottom's name was called, and he and his trainer walked up to the whipping post. The trainer used some rope to tie the bottom spread-eagle to the whipping post. The bottom's wrists were tied to small metal loops located near the top of the 2 vertical posts, and his ankles were tied to small metal loops near the base of those posts. Then the trainer picked up his flogger and began applying the lash to the bottom's back. I was surprised when the bottom took the lashes with hardly a sound. I could hear an occasional grunt as his back absorbed the impact of each lash, and I thought I could see in the mirror a few tears rolling down his cheeks. After giving the bottom 40 lashes, the trainer stopped the punishment and released the bottom from his bonds. After that demonstration, I was beginning to wonder whether floggings might not be as painful as a bare-ass spanking.
Then the 2nd bottom's name was called, and he and his trainer approached the whipping post. The trainer tied the bottom to the whipping post and began applying the lash to his back. The bottom took the first 10 lashes quietly, but he started crying after that for the remainder of his punishment. Then the 3rd bottom was tied to the whipping post. He started crying after only a half dozen lashes and responded with yelling during the last 20 lashes.
The next bottom tied to the whipping post started screaming after only a few lashes, and he began twisting his body every which way in pitiful (but unsuccessful) efforts to avoid each lash. After the 10th lash, he yelled out "Stop! I can't take any more." The trainer stopped the flogging and turned toward the workshop leader, who handed him the razor strap he was holding. The leader told him in a voice loud enough so everyone in the room could hear, "You know what we do to bottoms who break the rules!" The trainer then took the razor strap and mercilessly whipped the bottom's ass with it, giving him 30 lashes in full view of all the spectators. The bottom screamed from the pain like you wouldn't believe. There was a deathly silence among the audience as the razor strap was being applied. You could feel the tension in the room. By the time the bottom had received all 30 lashes, his buttocks had turned a bright red. His trainer left him tied to the whipping post until he had stopped crying. Then he released him. As that bottom returned to the rest of the group, I could tell from the expression on his face that he was humiliated by having his ass whipped in front of his fellow trainees.
I was the next bottom summoned to the whipping post. My trainer tied me securely and then began the flogging. The first 10 lashes were fairly light and I was able to take them without difficulty. But I noticed that, after the 10th lash, my trainer started applying the lashes with more force. It didn't take very long before I was yelling from the pain. I continued yelling right through to the 40th lash, which couldn't arrive soon enough. (I decided I might need to revise my idea about the relative severity of spankings and floggings.) My trainer then released me from my bonds and gave me a big hug. He told me I took the lashes quite well.
After several more bottoms had their turns at the whipping post, the workshop leader told us that he had a special treat in store for us. Two of the bottoms had indicated on their preliminary questionnaire that they wanted to experience the bullwhip. Both bottoms were warned that the bullwhip might leave permanent scars on their back, but both of them agreed to take a whipping of up to 10 lashes. We were all instructed to move further away from the whipping post and off to one side so that we wouldn't accidentally become part of the demonstration.
The first bottom was escorted to the whipping post by his trainer. He was tied very securely to the whipping post. His trainer picked up the bullwhip and administered the first lash. The bottom instantly screamed in pain. Then the trainer raised the whip and administered the 2nd lash, which was instantly followed by another loud scream from the bottom. The bottom said something to his trainer which I couldn't make out. Then we were surprised when the trainer suddenly released the bottom from his bonds. The workshop leader then explained that the bottom had been given a "safe word", at his request, to terminate the whipping at any time. The bottom then told the group that the pain of the bullwhip was unbelievable, worse than he had ever imagined!
The 2nd bottom was then tied to the whipping post. His trainer picked up his bullwhip and then began the whipping. When the first lash struck the bottom's back, he yelled out loud. After the 2nd lash, he yelled again. By the 3rd lash, the bottom started screaming uncontrollably. After the 4th lash had struck his back, the bottom began yanking on the leather wrist restraints in a desperate attempt to free himself, but he wasn't able to escape the remorseless lash. Then he cried out to his trainer, "Please stop, I beg you. I can't take any more!" But we were horrified when the trainer didn't stop, but instead continued the whipping. I felt uncomfortable as the bottom's screams continued unabated, as did his body's futile attempts to escape the lash. I was relieved when the final lash had been administered. The trainer laid down his bullwhip. The bottom was left in the restraints until his crying had ceased. The bullwhip had left a few cuts in his back, and there were streaks of blood around those cuts. The trainer soaked a cloth in alcohol and wiped it across the bottom's back to clean off the blood and sterilize the wounds. As he did that, the bottom screamed in agony. Then he was left hanging in the restraints for several minutes until he stopped moaning, after which his trainer released him from his bonds. When it became apparent that the bottom was too weak from the whipping to stand on his own, his trainer asked another trainer to help him escort the bottom back to a chair. The workshop leader then explained to the group that the 2nd bottom had declined the use of a "safe word" and had asked his trainer to give him the full 10 lashes, no matter what he said or did. Then the workshop leader said, "I hope you enjoyed the bullwhipping demonstrations, Let's give both bottoms a round of applause for braving the excruciating pain of the bullwhip. When the 2nd bottom heard the applause, he smiled briefly, but he was too weak to sustain it for very long.
The workshop leader then told the group, "That formally concludes your weekend in Hell. All you bottoms can return to your rooms and put your clothes back on. I just thought I'd let you know that all the personal trainers are volunteers. None of them receive any payment for their 'services'. So when you return to your room, you might want to show your appreciation to your trainer in whatever way you consider appropriate." I followed my trainer back to my room. After locking the door behind me, I told my trainer that I would like to thank him personally. He sat down on the edge of the bed. I dropped down onto my knees in front of him. Sensing my intentions, he unzipped his fly and put on a condom. I did my best to draw out his most precious bodily fluid, and then he thanked me for my expression of appreciation. He gave me his phone number, in case I ever felt the need for more "lessons".
For the curious, this story was complete fiction.
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