Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Lana on stage

More requests have come flooding in! I'm really happy to report that. I was afraid the well was running dry, and that our time together, dear readers, was coming to a close. But the requests continue. And as long as they do, they will be answered. That's my part of the bargain.

Your part? Well, that's up to you. But if nothing else, I ask that you at least enjoy:

Lana on stage
The van jostled when it finally came to a stop. Lana didn't hear anything open, just felt the hands lift her up and pull her out. She felt the movement, then the click of a chain. She swung back and forth, dangling free.

She felt metal against her skin as a pair of safety scissors cut away her blouse. After it snipped through her bra and her breasts fell loose, the scissors went to work on her pants, cutting away her pants, her underwear, everything below the boots supporting her weight.

She swung there, completely naked, with no idea what was going on around her or how many people were there. She knew there had to be at least three people; there were six hands carrying her from the van.

She felt something spray up against her skin, and then the cool air against her wet skin. At first, she was confused. Why just get her wet and let her feel the air?

Then the liquid warmed up. Her skin started tingling.

She whimpered as it started to burn. Then she yelped when the strands of the flogger hit her back. The next hit was a cane, a bright line of stinging against the soft burn on her skin.

Something cold and inflexible slid up her stomach as the impacts continued to rain down on her back. She moaned and wriggled, unsure what to feel. The skin on her back was burning with cold, the lashes were burning with heat, and the smooth rod against her stomach hummed with electricity.

It wasn't enough to cause any pain, just enough to make the tiny hairs stand up.

Lana strained her ears, but they were packed tight. She couldn't hear the cane slash through the air before it hit her skin. She couldn't hear the thudded impact of the flogger as it wrapped around her back and snapped against her stomach. There was no sound.

She hung there and moaned when the hitting stopped. Cool water flowed down her back, taking some of the burning away.

Then the metal rod made contact again, and every muscle in her body tightened up at once. She tried to scream, but couldn't control her diaphragm enough to get any sound out.

As soon as the pain started to recede, more water sprayed her down, soaking every part of her body, letting her cool off.

She hung there, feeling the water drip down her skin, feeling the wind blow up against it. The water began to evaporate, and she began to shiver.

Her teeth chattered as she hung, waiting there for whatever was coming next.

Time stretched on, her muscles shaking in the cold. There was no hint of light through the pads and the blindfold. She could be anywhere. More importantly, so could the others. The people holding the crop, holding the whip, holding the shock stick. All of them could be anywhere. Maybe they were just a few feet away, watching her shiver, laughing at her, taunting her. Maybe they were across the room, picking out new tools to torture her with.

Or maybe they were gone. Maybe they left her there, hanging by her ankles, naked and wet. They could leave her there for as long as they wanted, and there was nothing, at all, that she could do about it.

How long can a human being hang upside down before it gets dangerous? An hour? Four hours? Twenty-four hours? Would they leave her hanging there for a full day?

Leaving someone alone is dangerous, with any kind of bondage. What if she had a stroke? Or a heart attack? Or what if there was a fire?

Lana wondered if there was a contingency plan for a fire. Maybe that's why they soaked her down. But the water was drying on its own. And even if she was still soaking wet when the fire started, that wouldn't do much of anything. The heat of the flames would dry off her skin in a manner of seconds. Then she'd choke on the smoke and die.

Why would they leave her alone like this?

Lana was about to start panicking when the crack of the whip kissed at her skin. She yelped, her attention focused tightly on that single square inch where the the leather snapped back against her skin, breaking the sound barrier with the loud crack.

She wondered if her skin had split. Then another hit drew her focus farther up her back, on her right shoulder blade. Then another on her lower back.

Then they let her swing again, letting the pain spread out, radiating through her muscles. But as they started to relax, as the pain was just starting to recede, electricity flowed into her body again.

It wasn't as bad as the last time. Her muscles didn't all tense up at once. Instead, as the metal pressed against her skin, tension spread out from underneath it. She felt muscle after muscle pull so tight that she felt like they were going to rip off her frame. It started small, but the longer the metal rod was pressed against her skin, the more painful it became.

When the pain stopped, Lana felt like her skin was tingling all over. Her nerves were standing at the strictest attention.

When the feather started dancing over her inner thigh, she nearly screamed. It traced down her leg, and she moaned softly as another feather joined the first. The gentle tickle raised goosebumps on her skin.

Behind the flowers came fingers, soft and warm, slipping in between her legs. She bit her lip and moaned as they massaged, as they teased and pleasured her. Then something else pushed its way into her.

Whoever it was pushed his cock in deep enough that Lana didn't notice when her ankles came free, didn't notice her body shifting. All she knew was the pounding of the cock in her pussy, then a second one in her mouth. She moaned onto one as the other stabbed into her, pulling her apart in all the right ways.

Nerves already ablaze, it didn't take long before Anna felt the orgasm crash over her. She screamed onto the cock down her throat as she came like a shotgun blast. Even if she could see, she knew her vision would be dimming. The man behind her didn't slow down, but rather pushed harder, deeper, and faster. The one in her throat grabbed her head and soon she was being pulled apart and pressed in on both sides at the same time.

She came again, sputtering through a second orgasm as the cock in her mouth began to pulse. He came down her throat as she moaned, gulping down his cum as her own fired out of her like a machine gun.

The man behind her came inside her, and his orgasm, that final thrust of pleasure before he blasted inside her, sent her over the edge for a third, even more intense, orgasm.

They put her down and she curled up on the floor, floating on a cloud of endorphins and moaning as the pleasure danced its way through her body, taking its time, seeing the sights, and letting her experience it in all its glory.

Hands unhooked the shackles on her wrists and rubbed the feeling back into her shoulders. The mask was pulled off her head, the cotton blindfold off her eyes. Then the plugs in her ears were removed, and she could hear again.

She could hear applause. Lots of applause.

Lana opened her eyes and looked around. She saw them giving her a standing ovation, the whole theater packed with row after row of people. There were too many for her to make out details, but there had to be dozens of them. Maybe hundreds.

Hundreds of people who had watched her get stripped down, who had watched her hang naked by her ankles.

Hundreds of people who had watched as she was whipped, as she was lashed, as she was shocked. Who watched as she was beaten, as she was tickled.

Who watched as she was fucked. As she came. And came. And came.

Hundreds of people who watched everything that had just happened.

And who enjoyed every minute of it.

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