Extract 1

I was panting heavily through my nose, feeling like a dental patient who has just
survived the preliminary inspection and knows that the real thing is about to commence, as
Monica connected up the wires in a briskly efficient way.

But it was not the electricity we were to feel just yet.  This time it was something much
more basic and physical.  Monica retrieved a thin whippy cane from the cupboard.  God, I
hated canes.  They were so unforgiving!  Normally a victim would be ‘warmed up’ with a
flogger, stimulating the blood flow and accustoming them to rising pain levels, but it
appeared such was not to be the fate for the Gang of Three.  In the tradition of the
one-thrust plug installation, we were straight into the nasty stuff.  Monica sure was
pissed off.

“How many do you think you deserve?”  came Monica’s voice, now suddenly with a tremor in
it.  “How about twenty strokes?  Could you stand that Trish?”  There was a whine of terror
from Trish.  My heart almost stopped.  Twenty strokes was a fearsome thrashing.

“Perhaps twenty-five for you, Stephen?”  Monica was standing behind me now her cold hands
fingering the cheeks of my bum and playing with the plug.  Then I felt the hardness of the
cane running between my buttocks and toying with Mr Willy who tried to shrink upwards even
more.  “Of all the people I thought I could trust…”  There was no mistaking the quaver in
her voice now.

“You bastard!” she cried suddenly, stepping back and letting fly across my backside.  The
pain was a piercing line of fire and made me cry out into the gag.  Then it was Mary’s
turn. 

Extract 2

As the lights disappeared down the highway I felt the all-too familiar surge of current
in the pads over my nipples, and in the two vibrating plugs that sent a ripple of pain
through my crotch.  I decided I was not going to hang around unnecessarily, and that was
no doubt the desired effect.  Already my hair was plastered down on my head and shoulders
as I hobbled off the road.  There was a shallow ditch with about a foot of muddy water in
it, and I managed to trip going down the bank to land sitting on my bum in this.  I hoped
the water might short out the vibrators, but of course you’d sealed them appropriately for
the wet places they were designed for, hadn’t you.

I scrambled out of the ditch with some difficulty.  With my wrists trapped at my hips and
my ankles hobbled, I ended up working my way out backwards on my arse.  It was not fun, I
can tell you.  Then there was the four-wire fence at the top on the other side of the
ditch, which I then had to squirm under on my stomach.  By the time I got to my feet after
that, to head across the field, I was muddy and grotty and feeling quite depressed

Extract 3 

Shawnee had been dealt with first, her bit gag replaced with a complex head harness that
blindfolded her and anchored a large ball gag in her mouth, stretching it wide.  The rest
of her bonds had remained, her arms remaining pinioned in the sheath behind her back. 
Broad ankle suspension cuffs had then replaced her hobble as Mistress Lynx dragged down a
steel wire from one of the overhead winches.  

Shawnee whimpered as she was made to lie on the ground while the wire was hooked to her
cuffs, then the ratchetting of the winch began and first her legs, then her body rose
slowly, until her head finally swung clear of the floor.  Muddy water ran out of the thigh
boots and was then caught in her crotch and held there by the tautly stretched latex
skirt.  Shawnee was decidedly unhappy, and I felt for her, considering it was probably my
fault that she was now suffering.

But of course she was obviously not going to suffer alone.  This I knew as I had
submitted to be gagged with a hard rubber ball and then blindfolded with an eyeless
leather discipline helmet laced tightly down the back of my head.  I was made to stand on
the small foot platforms on the cross, each barely big enough for half my foot.  It was
hard to balance there until Mistress Lynx pulled the thick leather belt around my waist,
melding me to the cross.  After that came the heavy straps at ankles and above the knee. 
She had made me hold on to the handgrips and had turned me through a hundred and eighty
degrees, buckling more straps around my wrists and upper arms.  The final piece de
resistance came with a large butt plug which was installed none too gently up my arse and
roped in place against the wooden cross. 

Then my world had gone topsy-turvy as the electric motor had started up and I slowly
began to turn.  It was dark and silent, for I could hardly hear the motor under the
leather hood.  I did not know if Mistress Lynx was still there in the dungeon with us, nor
what was going to happen next.  I was wondering about this briefly when there was a rush
of pain through my arse as the butt plug came to life.