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Subject: {ASSM} Diary of a Pain Slut - Week Five of Five     Female Exhibitionist, Self-Bondage, Public Nudity, Public Humiliation, Public Sex, Public Orgasm, Spanking, Whipping, Electro-Sex, Oral, Anal
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Diary of a Pain Slut - Week Five of Five
Maddi has to keep a diary as part of court-ordered therapy

By The Technician

Female Exhibitionist, Self-Bondage, Public Nudity, Public Humiliation,
Public Sex, Public Orgasm, Spanking, Whipping, Electro-Sex, Oral, Anal

 = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
 When Maddi Miller gets caught doing naked self-bondage under an
interstate bridge, the police take her to the psych ward of the local
hospital. She is released but has to keep a diary as part of her
thirty day evaluation and submit it to her therapist at the end of
each week.

This is the final week of that diary. There are five weeks, each more
or less stands on its own, but makes more sense if you have read the
previous weeks.

 = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

 WARNING!  All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18
ONLY.  Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content.  All
people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to
persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations,
and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real
life.

If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference
between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province,
nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts
depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to
somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if
acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is
included with the article.  This story is copyright (c) 2014 by The
Technician ( Technician666@Gmail.Com. )

Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this
story for personal, non-commercial use.  Production of multiple copies
of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly
forbidden.

 = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
 * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Maddi's Diary, Day Twenty-Five, Monday

Dr. B said that he was very pleased see that I was moving forward in
my relationship with Shirley. He feels that he can recommend that I be
released from treatment. However... There is always a "However..."

The however in this case is that I cannot be released from
court-ordered treatment until all "fees, fines and restitution has
been fulfilled." And court-ordered therapy does not mean court paid
for therapy. I qualified for public defender because I was 18 and a
college student, but the hospital stuff was submitted to my dad's
insurance and that established my dad as a responsible party for the
expenses.

Dr. B tried to sound very sympathetic when he told me, "Normally, that
would just be insurance co-payments and a few fines and fees, but in
your case, your father's insurance company has rejected the claim
because it stems from an illegal act in which you willingly took
part."

He further explained, "I can't reduce the fees because your father
owns the land in the country plus his truck. They count all that as
assets, so your family doesn't qualify for reduced fees."

He cleared his throat nervously and said somewhat apologetically, "And
in addition to all of that,  the state is charging you for a special
inspection of the bridge you tied yourself under."

As stupid as it sounds, the biggest item on the list was that damned
bridge inspection. Because I had "attached unauthorized equipment to
the physical structure" of the bridge, a special inspector had to be
flown in from somewhere with a special crew to do a full inspection of
the bridge. I ran ropes through some eyebolts what were already in
place on the bridge!! I didn't cut anything, weld anything, or even
clamp anything. I didn't hit it with a truck, a car, or even my fists.
I just ran some damn rope through a ring on the bridge. 

Evidently there is some weird-ass federal law that got written after a
bridge collapsed up in Minnesota somewhere that requires this kind of
inspection whenever there is "unauthorized or uncertified work or
attachment on or to a bridge." The bill for the inspection is $45,000
dollars!

The fines are almost nothing. My plea agreement includes a fine for
public indecency. The criminal charge will be expunged from my record
when I satisfactorily complete therapy. I still have to pay the $1,500
dollar fine plus $1,000 in court costs.

The in-patient stay at the looney bin was $14,000 and my 15 sessions
with Dr. B cost $1,100 each for a total for treatment of $30,500. If I
had insurance, those sessions would automatically be reduced to the
negotiated amount of $600, but since I don't have insurance- or it
isn't paying, I get stuck with the full, inflated charge.

It is one bullshit thing after another, but it all boils down to the
fact that I have to come up with $78,000 by next Monday or go to
jail...or worse, go into the state psychiatric facility downstate.

"Actually," Dr B said, "the easiest thing to do would be to extend
treatment. I can do that for a few weeks and recommend that it be
extended on a month by month basis for up to six months. That would
keep you out of jail or the state facility, but it would also continue
to cost you $3,300 a week."

He shrugged his shoulders. I think he was honestly sorry for me. "I
know it's a real catch-22. You can't get out of treatment unless you
pay for treatment, but if you don't get out of treatment, the bills
keep going up."

He shook his head. "There really isn't anything I can do. Maybe you
can borrow the money from somewhere or your parents can help you out."

"I'll see what I can arrange," I told him, but I didn't have much
hope. They think Dad has all sorts of "assets," but he cracked a block
on his truck out in Denver a few months back and the cost of those
repairs, plus the downtime, emptied his bank accounts. He had to
re-finance the truck to come up with the necessary money to replace
the engine and get back on the road. There just isn't any spare cash
in the Miller family right now and I think the mortgage on the land is
as high as it can be already. I will have to come up with something on
my own.

Dad's on an extended run and won't be back until Sunday. Mom is gone
on a week-long training trip and may have to work Saturday also. So I
am on my own this week and most of this weekend. This isn't something
I want to talk to them about on the phone, so it will have to wait
until Sunday. Maybe I can figure something out before then.

Work was a blur this afternoon and evening. I was really distracted,
but at least I didn't drop any trays.

End of entry for Day Twenty-Five

Maddi's Diary, Day Five, Twenty-Six, Tuesday

I called Harold first thing this morning and asked him how much money
I actually had in my Beat Girl account. He said I had $51,000 that I
could draw out. Jesus! I'm really glad I didn't know I had that much.
I might have blown it all on some really expensive sex toys.

Just kidding, Dr. B. I have enough really expensive sex toys in my
studio that are already paid for out of the Beat Girl profits. I
probably should sit down with Harold some day and find out how much I,
and he, am actually making on Beat Girl.

Harold told me that normally he could advance me quite a bit toward
future earnings, but right now he was in the middle of a big business
deal and most of his money was tied up. He could loan me $5,000 from
his personal savings, but that was all he could come up with on short
notice.

I told him I would keep the $5,000 in mind, but to transfer the $51 K
into my checking account immediately.

As soon as I hung up from talking to Harold, I called Shirley. I cried
on the phone with her for about a half hour, but then I had to get to
work. I was crying most of the day, but I got all the orders right and
didn't spill any hot coffee on anyone.

The Beat Girl session was TERRIBLE! I should have had Harold cancel
the session and put on a rerun. We do that once in a while when Beat
Girl is "on vacation." But those are always announced in advance, and
I didn't want to disappoint my fans.

I disappointed them anyway- at least most of them. It was a spank and
paddle night which usually brings out my E buddies, but I was so down
that they stayed home. Anyone who was hoping to see me go into a
pain-induced orgasm was very disappointed. On the other hand, anyone
who wanted to hear me scream in pain really got their money's worth.

I probably should have dropped the safety switch when I realized that
the endorphins weren't going to kick in at all, but then I decided
that maybe my body was telling me that I needed the true punishment
with no help from my E buddies. I had, after all, gotten myself into
this by "an illegal act in which I willingly took part."

Everything hurt like hell, and I kicked and screamed and thrashed like
I never had before. If this was how "normal" people experience this
kind of pain, I understand why they think I am weird. There is no way
that I would do this regularly if it actually hurt that much with no
corresponding reward and release.

As soon as the session was over, I shut down the studio and limped
back up to the house barefoot and naked. I probably would have done
that anyway- walked back up to the house barefoot and naked, but I
wouldn't have felt like a whipped dog slinking back to its kennel
while I did it.

I had barely gotten back into the house when my phone rang. It was
Shirley.

She didn't even say "Hello," but instead started off with, "I know how
we can raise the money."

"I don't want to borrow from your parents," I answered.

"Can't do that anyway," she replied. "I talked to them this morning.
It would directly involve them in a criminal proceeding in which they
did not have a direct relationship, and that could taint their
credibility in other cases."

She gave a short snort that was somewhere between a laugh and a
chuckle. "That's my Dad's lawyer talk for why he can't do it. But I
have another idea."

"What?" I asked.

"We do a live performance of Beat Girl!" she bubbled excitedly.

"Wait a minute, Mickey Rooney," I answered, "this is not a `Let's Put
on a Show' movie. It doesn't work that way in real life."

"Yes it does," she replied. "I already checked with The Grease Pit. We
can rent the place for an after hours show for only $1,000. They are
licensed to seat up to 250 people. If we charge $125 a ticket, and
sell out, we can clear over $30,000. Even if we only have an 80%
house, we still clear $25,000."

"But Beat Girl doesn't have a road show," I protested, "And it would
be really hard to set up all this equipment somewhere."

"The only equipment you will need," she insisted, "is your cape and
mask and that weird chair you showed me in the studio. I can get
anything else we need. We advertise the show as a live performance of
Beat Girl and Nubbin, with special guest, Beat Cat."

She paused to let that sink in and then continued, "I really wanted to
use Catwoman, but Dad said that would trigger a copyright bot if it
appeared on the website. He's not sure how you have gotten away with
Beat Girl for so long."

"I'm not sure about all ths," I said. "Who do we get to be Beat Cat
and Nubbin?"

"I will be Beat Cat," she said. "I have a full body cat suit that will
drive them wild. As far as Nubbin, have you ever seen Vicki naked?"

"Not since the sixth grade," I replied.

"Vicki is endowed," Shirley continued, "with a clit that is bigger
than some men's pricks. When she gets turned on it sticks out of her
almost two inches. And I haven't collected from her on that bet yet,
so she has to do it.

"Get Harold to put something on a special page of the website that
says that Beat Girl and Nubbin will be appearing live this weekend.
That way people can check the website to be sure that this is the real
deal. We put up posters at the Pit and a couple of other bars in town
and see what happens."

I agreed and Shirley said she would talk to the owners at the Pit and
set things up. She was also going to take care of getting the tickets
and the publicity ready.

I was feeling a little better when I finally went to bed, but my ass
and legs and back still really hurt. With my E buddies on strike, I
didn't even feel like jilling off before going to sleep. I just took
some pain pills and slept on my stomach.

End of entry for Day Twenty-Six

Maddi's Diary, Day Twenty-Seven, Wednesday

I explained to Dr. B what Shirley and I were planning to do. He
advised me to pay the bill from the state first since it would take
the longest to clear. We really didn't talk about much else during our
session. He more or less let me vent about how unfair this all was.
All I did was stand up on a ledge naked and it was practically ruining
my life.

"But you finally connected with Shirley because of it," he said in his
helpful therapist way.

"Yes, there is that," I conceded.

Then he asked, "If that was the only good to come out of all of this,
would you do it again?"

"Damned straight!" I answered. The answer surprised me for several
reasons. One, that is one of my father's expressions and I have never
used it before in my life. And two, I was practically shouting as I
said it.

Dr. B just laughed and said, "See you Friday."

I checked with Shirley before I went to work and she said everything
was set up with the Pit. Tommy, the bartender, will get 5% for
handling the ticket sales. That cuts some from the profits, but it is
a necessary expense. She also told me that she was hiring four of the
security men from the club at $250 each for the night... "just in
case."

"In case of what?" I asked.

"Two of them are going to be wandering the crowd keeping things
peaceful. The other two are going to be standing up front making sure
that nobody gets over-excited and rushes the stage."

I hadn't thought about that. Men can kind of lose it sometimes when
things get hot on a live stage. The real reason that strip clubs
started using brass poles was to keep strippers from being pulled off
the stage by lust-crazed customers. The pole gave them something to
hang on to. The fact that dancing around that pole can be erotic as
hell, was just an accidental side benefit.

Work was OK. My mind was a lot clearer. I was even able to smile and
be chipper as I waited on customers. That makes a big difference. My
tips went back up to their normal level.

End of entry for Day Twenty-Seven

Maddi's Diary, Day Twenty-Eight, Thursday

I didn't realize that my E buddies could arrive so late. I was feeling
a LOT better, and I woke up REALLY horny, so I dug out my jack rabbit
and my stash of clothes pins. There are a lot of different pain
devices on the market, but nothing really does it for me like a good
ol' wooden clothespin. And it is so quick and simple to set up.

I got the jack rabbit out of my toy drawer and made sure it had good
batteries in it. It wouldn't do for the bouncing bunny to die on me in
mid-stroke. Then I dug out the clothes pins. I've got a full bag of
them now, but I have found that the nine cross does everything that I
want and need to be done.

I warmed myself up with the rabbit and once things were flowing, I
started putting the clothes pins on my breasts. The four that are
vertical are harder to put on, so I put those on first. One is just
above and another just below my nipple. Then two more are right at the
edge of where the aerole color starts to fade out. I don't know why,
but that boundary is more sensitive than the surrounding skin.

After I have the vertical pins in place, I do the horizontal ones.
Again there are two right next to my nipples. These are a little
harder to put in place because my skin is already stretched a little
by the pinching of the vertical pins. The ones on the aerole boundary
go on easily. I guess there is more skin to work with out that far
from the nipple.

The last thing I do is put the "tip clip" in place. It is sort of a
delicate balance between getting it far enough out on the nipple so
that it is actually squeezing the very tip where it is most sensitive
and having it clipped far enough back so that it won't fall off as I
move around.

Once everything is in place, I kneel facing the headboard of my bed.
The cluster of clips on each tit is tied together by a cord that
threads through the center of their springs. I tie one cord to the
bedpost on one side of the headboard, and then tie the other string to
the other post. I scooch back until the strings are just beginning to
get tight, then I start working the jack rabbit.

If I close my eyes and rock forward and back slightly, I can imagine
that someone- today it was Shirley, is pulling at my breasts and
nipples as they work their hands on my cunt and clit. I sometimes
imagine that it is Randy fucking me as I stand before him. Today, for
some reason, I imagined Shirley with a big, vibrating strap-on.

I had never thought about that before. I wonder if she has one? That
is something we will have to explore if I can ever get out of therapy.

In any case, I was just starting to get really juicy when suddenly I
could feel a flood of my E buddies coming to join me. I expected some
of them to arrive. I did, after all, have the clips in place on the
very tips of my nipples. But this was way more than I needed to go
from pain to pleasure pain. The only thing I could figure was they
were from the Beat Girl session, but had somehow been delayed.

With the pain buddies who had stayed away during the Beat Girl session
finally arriving, I was in a self-induced narcotic rush that put me in
nirvana.  I pumped furiously with the jack rabbit and wobbled back and
forward so that the strings would pull at the clips. I was grunting
and screaming like mad. It is a good thing that we live way out in the
country or the neighbors might be calling the police to say that
someone was being murdered.

Then I popped. As soon as I felt it start, I fell backward on the bed.
The strings went tight and pulled all of the clothespins off my
breasts all at once. That completed the blast off.

With my legs doubled over and my butt between my feet, I was splayed
open at an obscene angle as I rammed the jack rabbit home one last
time and lost control. My arms were in the air above me shaking like I
was having a fit. My legs were trying to flail, but they were trapped
beneath me on the bed. I screamed and thrashed so hard that I felt the
jack rabbit slip out of me and squirt onto the bed between my knees.
My hands came down on their own and attacked my cunt as I grunted and
groaned and screamed in the throes of a fantastic orgasm.

When it was all over, I lay there panting and trying to regain control
of my mind and body. I turned slightly onto each side and straightened
my legs. I was so close to the headboard that I couldn't straighten
them out, so instead I put my feet on wall above my headboard and lay
there with my cunt dripping onto the sheets. I must have stayed like
that for ten or fifteen minutes, or maybe even longer than that.
Finally I got up out of the bed and went into the bathroom.

I smelled really heavily of sex and really, really needed a shower,
but I decided that my sheets would have first crack at the water
heater and stripped my bed and took the sheets down to the laundry
room. I had just put them in the wash machine when there was a knock
at the door.

It was Harold. I pulled on a robe and asked him to come into the
kitchen. He looked really strange and he was having trouble meeting my
eyes. 

"What's wrong?" I asked him.

He looked all over the kitchen and then finally back at me as he said,
"I can't lie to you anymore. There is no friend of a friend of a
friend."

"What?!" I asked in surprise.

"I own the website," he blurted out. "I own all of them. I'm worth a
lot of money and I really, really want to help you and would if I
could, but honestly and truly, I am in the middle of a deal to buy out
two of my competitors and I don't have any ready cash."

He looked up at me through his always dirty, thick glasses. "If you
need to raise more money with this live performance, though," he said,
"I can set things up to stream it live on a pay-per-view basis and
give you all the proceeds over expenses."

He looked at me very seriously. "Do you want to do that?"

"Definitely," I answered. "How much do you think we can raise?"

"I really don't know," he answered, "but whatever it is, it should
help."

"Thank you, Harold," I said as I kissed him lightly on the forehead.
"And don't worry about lying  to me. I looked up the site a long time
ago on Whois and your private email address is listed for the owner.
I've known you owned Beat Girl for a long time. It doesn't matter. We
all have secrets that we like to think that we keep from everybody."

He grinned at me rather sheepishly and said, "I'll put the publicity
on the site today and see how many people sign up for the show."

End of entry for Day Twenty-Eight

Maddi's Diary, Day Eight, Twenty-Nine, Friday

Shirley and Vicki came out this morning before I left for group. We
went out to the studio to look at the chair and make sure it was going
to work for what Shirley had in mind. She had Vicki sit in it and had
me on all fours down in front of her. "We'll have to put it up on
blocks or something," she said. "It has to be about a foot higher."

"No problem," I answered, and pointed to several small, wooden
platforms that were stacked in the corner. "We had to use these at
first with the robot arms," I explained, "until Harold had their legs
extended slightly."

Shirley and I dragged one of the platforms over to the chair and then
hefted it onto the platform. Vicki sat back down and I got back down
on my hands and knees. I was looking right at her crotch. "Perfect,"
said Shirley. I was starting to think I knew what she had in mind.

The whole thing was starting to get me pretty horny, but it was time
to go to group, so they left and I went down to the psych floor at the
hospital for group.

The sex addict boy and girl weren't there. "Karen and Terrance won't
be joining us today," Dr. B explained. 

Wanda giggled and said, "They got caught screwing on the floor of the
gazebo in the middle of the town square."

I asked, "Did somebody see them and call the police?"

"Everybody saw them!" chortled Diane. "It was 1:00 in the afternoon."

Dr. B coughed lightly and said, "They will be participating in group
at the state facility for awhile. Let's return to the issues within
our current group."

"And what are those?" asked Wanda.

"We could talk about the problem of paying for all this when insurance
won't cover it," I said, somewhat bitterly.

"My insurance covers it," said Wanda.

"So does mine," added Diane.

I looked over at Dr. B. He said softly, "Keep control of yourself,
Maddi."

"I'm in control of myself," I answered. "I'm just really pissed off
that my Dad's insurance won't pay because I was naked in public, but
theirs will pay even though they raped their own students."

"It wasn't rape," they shouted in unison.

"It was just misdirected love," Wanda said as she crossed her arms in
front of herself.

"Well, if you had done that to me," I said, "my Dad would have
misdirected his truck right across your sorry ass."

Dr. B evidently knew when things were not going to get better and he
said, "I can see that our environment for group today is just too
hostile, so I am going to wrap things up early."

Wanda and Diane both glared at me. I hope my glare at least matched
theirs. I decided that I was going to hold my ground so I just sat
there and stared at them. Finally they picked up their purses and left
together.

"Assuming that you can get the money together to pay everything off,"
Dr. B said to me, "this was probably your last group session with me."
He smiled at me and said in a totally normal human voice, "If you
still need to deal with things, wait 21 days after our last meeting
and then call for an appointment. That will put it in a new case
number and your Dad's insurance should pay 80%... and that will be at
the lower rate."

As I got up to leave, he said, "See you Monday... for the last time, I
hope."

Work was pretty normal except for having to not react when one of the
other waitresses asked if I had heard that Beat Girl was going to be
live at the Pit tomorrow night. "You ought to watch her webcasts
sometime," she said. "I think you could really learn something."

I just answered, "I might do that some day," and bit down hard on my
lower lip to keep from bursting out laughing 

End of entry for Day Twenty-Nine

Maddi's Diary, Day Thirty, Saturday

Harold called first thing this morning to say that he was pretty sure
that the pay-per-view would help with my expenses. I asked him how
many were already committed and he answered, "The numbers aren't real
until the credit card clears. There are a ton of people signed up for
reminders, but I can't actually charge the cards until the show starts
and they sign in. I'll let you know the numbers Sunday morning."

Shirley also called to say that she was bringing out two of the
bouncers to help move the chair and platform. I told her that I had to
leave for work, but explained where the key to the studio was hidden.

Work was OK. It wasn't good and it wasn't bad. My tips were down again
because I was distracted and not paying enough attention to the
customers. I'm normally not a clock watcher, but I kept looking over
at the clock to see what time it was. Show time isn't until 2:00 am,
so I am going to drive myself crazy if I keep this up.

The clock slowly dragged its way around to 4:00 and I left for home.
There wasn't anything I needed to do to get ready for tonight's show,
so I surfed the web and read and took a nap. 

Shirley said she and Vicki would pick me up at 10:30, so around 8:00 I
drew myself a hot bubble bath and soaked for about an hour. Then I
used the shower to wash my hair and got it set. I really wanted to
wear Shirley's collar tonight, but she said that it would identify me
too clearly since I have been wearing it around town. I gave a deep
sigh as I left it on my dresser.

I put my pink cape and mask in a small travel case and set it by the
door. I was wearing a white, A-line dress with nothing underneath it.
Shirley said that she would park in the back in the owner's spot in
the alley. After we make sure everything is set up back stage, we go
out the back door and come in the front like regular customers. Then
we can sit in one of the back booths and relax until around 1:30. We
go out the front doors like we were leaving and come back in the back
door and get ready.

Shirley arrived exactly on time- she always does, and we drove into
town. It was 11:00 when we got to The Grease Pit. The parking lot was
already absolutely full and cars were parked on the grass by the road.
So much for sitting unnoticed in a back booth and relaxing. 

Tommy met us at the back door and said, "I'm sold out of tickets, but
I've got people offering me double or triple to let them stay for the
show. If I open the folding doors to the party room, I am legal for
300. Nobody can see from there and nobody will be in there when the
show starts, but the cops can't shut me down for overcrowding. Do you
want me to overbook?"

Shirley answered him with, "Be damn sure you keep it under 300. I
don't want any legal surprises in the middle of the show. Do you have
some kind of ticket so the bouncers know if someone has paid or snuck
in?"

He answered, "Everybody gets a stamp when they turn in their ticket.
If they don't have a big blue GP on their left hand, they aren't
legal."

"OK," Shirley shouted. Even backstage it was almost impossible to hear
because of the noise of the crowd.

"Looks like we wait back here," I said.

"Yeah," answered Vicki, "but if they are sold out and adding 50 more
at double price, you are clearing somewhere around $40,000. That ought
to clear up your troubles."

"About that," Shirley said, somewhat seriously. "When we were figuring
what we needed to take in, we forgot Uncle Sam's cut, and the state's
cut and the city's. This is all declarable income, plus the state has
an entertainment tax and the city has an entertainment surcharge and
both have to be paid when we clear the license."

I looked over at her in shock. "Dad reminded me last night," she said.
"Taxes are going to take about a third, so the extra will bring us
back up to where we thought we would be to begin with."

I must have looked a little disappointed because she raised my chin
and said, "Don't worry. It will be enough. Just worry about the
performance."

We sat in the back talking while we waited for show time. Vicki kept
going up and peeking out through the curtain. "You keep that up," I
told her, "and somebody is going to recognize your face."

I had a sudden thought, "You did bring a mask didn't you?"

"I'm not that stupid," she replied, sticking out her tongue. "But I
don't know if it is going to do much good. Anybody who has seen me
naked will recognize me. I am pretty distinct down there."

"How many have seen you fully turned on?" asked Shirley.

"Nobody!" she answered, almost shouting. Then in a bit softer voice
said, "Well, almost nobody."

Shirley raised her eyebrows at her and Vicki said, "OK a dozen or so
people, but almost all of them are girls so I don't really expect them
to be out there tonight."

"Don't bet on it," I interjected. "Harold says that almost 75% of Beat
Girl's followers are female. That greatly increases the odds that some
girl you have slept with will be out there."  I paused and asked,
"What about the guys?"

Vicki scrunched up her face and answered, "Most guys I've slept with
know how big I feel, but I don't think any of them know how big I
look. And about half of them didn't even notice."

"Just so your face is well covered, you are OK," said Shirley. "They
might suspect, but if they don't see your nose and the area around
your eyes, they can't be sure."

"Oh, oh," I said.

"What now?" asked Vicki.

"Robin's mask doesn't cover his nose, just the area around his eyes."

"Thought of that," she replied and held up a bright yellow hooded
mask. It was very similar to Beat Girl's Batman mask except it didn't
have any ears on top. It did have, however, a smaller black mask sewn
into it.

"Besides," she said. "I'm not Robin. I'm Nubbin." Then she stuck her
tongue out at me again.

Tommy came in through a doorway behind the bar. "Show time in a half
hour. Is everybody ready back here?"

"Ready, willing and able," I answered. I laughed and then pointed to
myself and said, "I'm willing." Pointing to Vicki, I said, "She's
ready." And finally pointing to Shirley, I said, "And she's able."

I was the only one who laughed at my joke. Shirley just said quietly,
"OK Nubbin, let's get you dressed and into position."

Vicki pulled off her dress and pulled on the yellow Nubbin mask with
the Robin mask sewn into it. Then she tied a matching bright yellow
cape around her neck.

I did the same with my pink Beat Girl outfit.

Out front we could hear Tommy making an announcement through the
speaker system. "Ladies and Gentlemen," he said. "The Grease Pit Bar
and Grill will officially close at 2:00 am. No alcohol can be
purchased after that. The stage and dining area has been rented by
Beat Girl Websites Incorporated, and they will be presenting a show
that will begin shortly after 2:00 am. If you do not have The Grease
Pit stamp on your left hand, you will have to leave at 2:00 o'clock.
No exceptions."

Shirley was standing over by the bondage chair and she signaled with
her hand that Vicki should come over there. Vicki is smaller than my
Mom, so when she sat down on the chair, it spread her legs even wider
than it had Mom's. I looked between her legs and her labia and clit
were enormous. It reminded me of one of those Georgia O'Keeffe
paintings of flowers that looked like a woman's cunt. As Shirley
tightened the straps on Vicki's arms, I could see her clit starting to
enlarge and stiffen.

"Somebody likes this," I said in a teasing way.

"No, I don't" countered Vicki.

I reached down between her legs and swiped my finger through her slit.
It came out glistening. I held it up in front of Vicki's eyes and
said, "The juices never lie. You may or may not like pain, but you
love being tied up."

Vicki just looked back at me like a little kid who had been caught
with her hand in the cookie jar.

"Help me push her into place," Shirley said, and we pushed the chair
out into the center of the stage just behind the curtain.

We were just in time because I heard the Beat Girl theme start to
play. Tommy had a video that was supposed to play on all the screens
that had the intro to Beat Girl. The crowd was shouting along with the
music, "dum, dum, dum, dum, dum, dum, dum, dum, Beat Girl!" Then
everyone screamed "WHAP!"

The music repeated and so did the insane chanting of the crowd. They
screamed out "Beat Girl," and then "KA-POW!"

Everything repeated for a third time with everyone screaming even
louder, "ZAP!"

The music started again and the curtain opened rapidly as I ran toward
it. I was afraid my timing would be off, but I got to the very front
of the stage and spun around to show my ass to the crowd just as they
yelled "Beat Girl."

I stood there, bent over slightly, showing everything I had to the
crowd in the room as Shirley slowly sashayed on stage and out to the
front. It was like watching a cat walk across a field with its body
down low as it sneaks up on its prey. She was wearing an absolutely
skin tight, black, full-body cat suit that hid everything but left
nothing to the imagination. It was so tight that you could tell that
she was completely shaven between her legs. Something as small as the
hair of a landing strip would have shown clearly.

She raised the microphone in her hand and began. "Good evening ladies
and gentlemen," she said. "We have a very special show for you
tonight. For the first time EVER, Beat Girl is appearing live." There
was thunderous applause and a lot of whooping and hollering.

"And joining Beat Girl tonight is Nubbin!" Shirley thundered. She
sounded a lot like one of those ring announcers on the wrestling
channel. Well, there were a lot of similarities in the programming.

Vicki's chair had been more or less in the dark until then, but now a
bright spotlight illuminated her bound figure. There were actually two
lights. One lit up the entire chair and showed her whole body. The
other, much brighter, was concentrated on her slit. The moisture
glistened in that very bright light.

You could see that her eyes were wild behind the mask and she was
shaking her head from side to side and trying to scream through the
ball gag. I think she was acting, but I wasn't sure. She might have
just lost it when the curtain opened and she saw 300 peoples staring
at her open crotch.

Shirley walked over to Vicki and stood beside her. "Care to guess why
they call her `Nubbin'?" she asked with a laugh. Then she reached down
and flicked Vicki's clit hard with her gloved fingertip. Vicki
screamed and thrashed and the crowd roared with laughter.

Shirley looked out over the crowd and said, "I am Beat Cat and I will
be your host for the evening." Then she walked along the front of the
stage, teasing the audience with what was almost a bump and grind
walk. By the time she stopped next to me, she had everyone's
attention.

"Tonight we are going to start with a little contest," she said.
"Those of you who follow Beat Girl on the web know that she is turned
on by pain." There were a couple of whoops and yelps in response to
that statement.

Looking back over at Vicki, she purred out, "Care to guess what turns
Nubbin on?"

There was some murmuring from the crowd and Shirley leaned down
slightly and spoke directly to a girl in the front row. "You ever
given a blow job... ... to a girl?" She asked. The crowd roared once
again with laughter. Shirley turned and started walking once again
across the front of the stage. 

"Of course not," she said. "A woman doesn't have a horn to blow."  The
crowd laughed again. She leaned down toward another obviously drunk
woman and said, "You DO know that in a blow job you are really
supposed to be sucking, not blowing, don't you?" The crowd laughed
again. "Maybe she doesn't know," Shirley purred. "Maybe that isn't fat
on her boyfriend. Maybe he is just over-inflated."

She was back at Vicki's chair before the laugher finally died down.
"Nubbin has something to blow on, or more accurately something to suck
on. Tonight we are going to see if Beat Girl can suck Nubbin to orgasm
before I drive her to orgasm by pounding her ass with this paddle."

She reached behind the chair and held up a thick wooden paddle. No
wonder she wanted the program to be spontaneous. Either Vicki or I or
maybe both of us might have backed out if we had known for sure what
was planned.

Shirley suddenly turned toward the audience and shouted, "How many of
you are into pain?... receiving, not giving?"

A surprising number of people cheered. Most of the voices sounded
female.

"So you know," Shirley continued, "that in a proper pain session, you
have to start with a warm up."

Several voices yelled out their agreement.

"Time to draw our first door prize," she said. "Some lucky member of
our audience tonight is going to get to come up here on stage and warm
up Beat Girl with a 50 swat hand spanking."

Tommy the bartender walked out on stage carrying a heavy wooden chair
and a large glass jar filled with slips of paper. He set the chair
down at the front of the stage to the right of Vicki and then held out
the jar to Shirley.

Shirley made a big show stirring the papers in the jar and then stuck
her hand way in and pulled out a single slip. "Oops," she said, "got
two of them," and she threw the slip back into the jar.

The audience couldn't see what I saw. She had palmed a slip in
advance. The drawing was rigged! What was she up to?

She turned and faced the audience, "Brad Summers, are you out there?"

There was a bunch of wild applause from Brad's friends and he came
bounding up onto the stage. Shirley had him sit down on the chair and
then she crooked her finger over at me calling me to my fate. 

I walked slowly over to Brad. As I passed Shirley, I hissed "Traitor"
at her. She ignored me and began instructing Brad. "Remember, this is
a warm up. Start out firm and slow and then build up to hard and
fast."

I lay down over Brad's lap and he rubbed his hands over my butt.
Suddenly he leaned down close to me and said, "Hello, Maddi."

I stiffened on his lap and he continued, "I'm shit for remembering
faces, Maddi, but I never forget an ass, especially an ass like
yours."

"Thank you," I replied. "Now warm it up for me, and please keep Beat
Girl's little secret."

"Anything for you," he answered. "Maybe we can repeat that night some
time." He started swatting. "But I don't think so," he continued.
"Things just came together. You can never repeat something like that."
His swats were getting stronger and faster. "But I will always have my
memories, and after tonight, I will have these memories, too."

This wasn't fair. This was supposed to be a warm up spanking and I was
about ready to pop my cork. The thought that he knew who I was and
remembering that night was so humiliating and embarrassing. That was
adding to the swats and I was climbing orgasm hill a lot faster than I
had intended.

Then I heard Shirley's voice, "Whoa, cowboy, whoa. Fifty! Only fifty.
We don't want Beat Girl losing before the contest even starts do we?"

The audience laughed, thinking that she was kidding, but she and Brad
knew that she was very, very close to the truth.

"I think we need to level the playing field a little," yelled Shirley
out to the audience. She reached again behind Vicki's chair and
brought out a huge, battery powered Magic Wand. She turned it on to
high and held her microphone up next to it so the humming filled the
room through the speakers. Vicki's eyes were wide and she was shaking
her head from side to side and thrashing her legs like she was trying
to get out of the chair.

Shirley stood slightly to the side so she wasn't blocking the
audience's view of Nubbin's nub, and then thrust the vibrator firmly
up against Vicki's clit. Her "nnngh, nnngh, nnngh" was loud enough to
be heard throughout the room even with Shirley's mic switched off.

Shirley held the vibrator in place for almost a minute and then
announced, "I think that is enough."

She turned around and asked me, "Are you ready?"

I nodded my head yes.

She turned back and flicked Vicki's clit again and said, "Nubbin's
ready."

"The rules are simple," she said. "I try my best to get you off with
the paddle while you try your best to get Nubbin off with your tongue
and mouth. The loser gets a session on the spanking bench with members
of the audience swinging paddles and canes and then a session between
the restraint poles while five specially-chosen members of the
audience replace the Beat Girl TAZapper robots."

The audience was going wild. So was Vicki. Shirley hadn't told us any
of this. I was starting to wonder what further surprises Shirley had
up her sleeve, but there wasn't anything here that wasn't in a regular
Beat Girl session, so I knew that I could handle it.

I nuzzled in close between Nubbin's legs and started slurping and Beat
Cat started pounding on my ass. The crowd was stomping and clapping in
time with the swats from the paddle. This was not only degrading and
humiliating and painful, it was WEIRD. These people were kinkier than
I was.

I could feel an orgasm building within me. Shirley knew how to read my
body and she was pushing me toward that big finish, but then the blows
got slightly lighter and I started slipping back down the
mountainside. I don't know if her arm was tiring or she just wasn't
paying close enough attention, but I would get close and then there
wasn't enough smack in the swat to take me over the top.

Regardless of what Shirley did, I kept licking and sucking on Vicki's
now rigid mini-penis clit. It was starting to throb and I halfway
expected her to spurt cum into my mouth at any minute. Then Shirley
started really laying it into me with the paddle.

Dammit! I knew what she was doing. She was keeping us in sync so that
we would pop at the same time. The initial drawing was rigged, the
contest was rigged, the whole thing was a big fake to create the best
show for the people. 

Well, the show must go on. I was almost there and so was Vicki.
Shirley slammed a really hard one into my ass and I sucked on Vicki's
clit like I was trying to draw a thick milkshake up a straw. She
exploded and so did I. I don't know if it was cum or what, but she
squirted something into my mouth as she grunted and thrashed in an
intense orgasm. I turned my head and slipped her out of my mouth so I
wouldn't accidentally bite down on her as an equally intense orgasm
tore through my body.

"We have a tie," shouted Shirley. "We have a tie." Then she shouted to
the audience "So what should we do? Are they both winners who get to
go home? Or are they both losers who have to face the consequences?"

She held her microphone out to the audience, but it wasn't needed. The
shout of "Losers!!!!" shook the building.

The two security men who were guarding the front of the stage, dashed
backstage and both soon returned with two identical spanking benches
that they just happen to have brought with them from the city. This
performance was starting to more and more closely resemble
professional wrestling. The pain is real, but the outcome is
pre-determined.

One of the burly men in black led me over to one of the benches and
pushed me down in place. I was kneeling on a padded step with my
stomach on a padded raised platform. My arms were strapped in place
down at the base of the bench in the front. There was a wide leather
strap across my back just above my ass that held me firmly in place.

I looked over and Vicki was being placed on a similar bench. She was
trying to resist, however, and the second man had to help restrain her
while they strapped her in place.

After Vicki was securely in place, Shirley yelled out to the crowd,
"Time for more door prizes.  Ten of you... times two, will get to come
up on stage and give Beat Girl or Nubbin five swats with the sacred
paddle."

She held up a long, light weight paddle and showed it to the audience.
"Do you know why it is sacred?" she asked. 

After a moment of silence she answered, "Because it is holy." Then she
put her finger through one of the dozen or so 1" holes in the surface
of the paddle.

The audience groaned, but the joke gave Tommy time to show up with the
jar. This time the drawing was probably legit, and pretty soon there
were twenty people standing up on stage.  Shirley divided them into
two lines and handed the first person in each line one of the paddles.

"Remember, five swats and then you hand the paddle to the next person
in line and go back to your seat."

The first person stepped up behind me and the crowd started chanting,
"One!" Both paddles slammed into asses. "Two!" Again the strikes were
synchronized.

Vicki was no longer gagged and by the third strike, she was begging
them to stop. I was just grunting and groaning. It wouldn't do for
Beat Girl's public image if I started begging them to stop something
as trivial as this.

The next person in line stepped up and the crowd again counted out the
five swats. They kept that up through all ten spankers. By the time we
got to the last person in line, Vicki was blubbering almost
incoherently. I was almost incoherent also, but that was because my E
buddies had really shown up and I was on the verge of a really good
orgasm.

Shirley once again stepped to the front of the stage. She was holding
a very thin cane in each hand. She swished them both through the air,
crossing them in front of her as she spoke. "Now some very lucky
person is going to get to deliver six of their best to these already
sore asses."

Tommy came running out with the jar and Shirley drew out two names, a
man and a woman. A moment later both were on stage. Shirley handed a
cane to each of them and motioned for them to come stand with her in
front of Vicki.

"Nubbin," she said, "I am going to let you chose which of these two
gets to lay six strokes of the cane on your blistered ass. Which one
do you chose?"

Vicki- Nubbin sobbed out, "The girl." 

"Bad choice" I thought as the man walked over to stand behind me and
the woman moved into place behind Vicki.

I was right. The man didn't really know how to use a cane. He was
swinging it like a paddle and not putting any wrist into it. He
slammed it into me six times in quick succession and was done before
the woman had even started. It hurt, but it didn't hurt all that bad.
And it didn't make that really evil swishing noise a cane can make as
it swings through the air.

The woman behind Vicki, however, was a cane virtuoso. She whipped the
cane back and forth rapidly just above Vicki's ass so that it sounded
like an angry nest of hornets getting ready to strike. Then she tapped
Vicki's ass lightly with the cane about five times before quickly
snapping it back with her wrist and slamming it vertically into
Vicki's left ass cheek. 

She repeated that and put a welt down the middle of her right ass
cheek. Then she laid three across Vicki's ass. One was at the very top
of the cheek, but still not on Vicki's back. One was right at the
bottom of the cheek where it meets the leg muscle. And one was dead
center in the middle of Vicki's ass. This woman was an expert with the
cane. There was one more stroke left and I knew exactly where that
sixth stroke was going to land.  I cringed waiting for it even though
it was Vicki, not me who was going to feel it.

The woman whipped her wrist so that she spun the tip of the cane in
the air just behind Vicki's ass. The circle started getting bigger and
more oblong. It was now a vertical oval in the air just behind Vicki's
ass. The whole place was totally silent and all that could be heard
was the angry humming of that cane. Then with a single motion, the
woman snapped the cane downward almost to the ground and upward right
between Vicki's legs.

Vicki's scream was extremely loud. Several girls in the crowd also
screamed. One or two fell to the ground. Every woman in the place felt
that cane smash into Nubbin's engorged nub. Vicki's eyes rolled back
into her head and she passed out.

Shirley stepped to the front of the stage. "It looks like Nubbin has
reached her limit. We will let her rest up for the final punishment
while Beat Girl gives us a live TAZapper session."

"Oh great!" I thought." My least favorite session in my least favorite
way."

The two burly security guys pushed Vicki over to the side of the stage
where she stared out at the crowd with glazed eyes and moaned softly
with each breath. Then they went back stage and brought out a platform
with two huge pillars on it. They pushed the pillar platform over to
the center of the stage and came back over for me.

I don't know if they were expecting me to resist or try to run away or
what, but they made sure that one of them had a firm hold on me before
the other released my restraints. Then they more or less frog-marched
me over to between the pillars and tied me in place. It must have been
originally set up for someone about an inch or so taller than me
because it really stretched me out. I was standing there facing out
over the crowd, so I couldn't see what was happening behind me.

I heard Shirley call out five names and three men and two women came
up on stage. They were close to the front of the stage, so I could see
them out of the corner of my eye. Shirley held up a smaller jar with
just a few slips of paper in it and they each drew out of a slip. She
then handed out the three TAZappers and the two vibrators.

"A normal session is a half-hour, but we are going to shorten that
tonight." She turned to the five people and said, "You have ten
minutes to see what you can do... starting now!"

The first thing that happened was that one of the women with a
TAZapper traded it to one of the men for the Magic Wand vibrator.
After that, it was pretty much like any other Beat Girl session on
TAZapper night except that live people are a lot faster and much more
accurate than joystick controlled robots. Just about every zap was on
my clit or a nipple.

I was pretty high on endorphins, so it wasn't too bad. The only time I
really yelped was when the man with the anal vibrator pulled it out
and someone with a TAZapper took its place. He didn't push it inside
me, but he really popped my pucker string with about six or eight
quick zaps right on the rosebud.

Like I said, the TAZapper sessions are not my favorites and I was glad
when Shirley called out "Time," and the five people went back to their
seats.

Shirley walked out and stood next to me. She signaled the security
guys and they pushed a second set of pillars out onto the stage and
slid mine slightly to the side so that everything was properly
centered.

One of the men went over and got Vicki and brought her over to the
second set of pillars. By the time they had her in place, she was also
stretched very tight. Both men then left the stage and returned
carrying bullwhips.

Vicki saw them first and started thrashing and screaming. Shirley said
in a loud and commanding voice, "Quiet, Nubbin." Then is a softer,
almost laughing voice. "They aren't going to use those whips on you."

She turned to the audience, smiled very broadly and said, "I am."

The men handed her the whips and she flipped both of them underhand
toward the audience so that they snapped loudly. "A little
demonstration of just how good I am with these whips," she said.

The two men were now pushing something else onto the stage. It was
another platform. There was a shelf about four feet high and three or
four feet long on the platform. On the shelf were two rows of burning
candles, placed one right behind the other. There was about two inches
between the rows.

"A whip can kiss very lightly," Shirley said and then turned and
snapped the whip in her right hand. The outermost candle went out. As
second snap from the whip in her left hand, and the outermost candle
on the opposite side when out.

"And it takes more skill to kiss very lightly that it does to smash
your lips against each other." She turned to the audience and said,
"Am I right, ladies."  There was a thunderous response.

Shirley then turned back toward the candles and began snapping the
whips alternately right hand and then left. The candles in the front
row went out, one by one.

"Sometimes you want to spread that light kiss across more of the
body," she said and then snapped both whips at the same time. She
leaned her shoulders slightly forward as she did and then pulled her
body upright as her wrists made the snap. The entire back row of
candles went out at the same time. There was a heart beat of silence
and then tremendous applause and shouts and whistles.

"Of course, the whip can do more than kiss lightly. It can inflict
severe punishment and pain." A flick of the right and left hands and
the outermost candles were cut in two. There was a smattering of
applause that grew in volume as snap after snap cut off the candles of
the first row about an inch above the shelf.

"And that pain and punishment can also be spread over a large portion
of the body." A simultaneous snap of both whips caused the back row of
candles to disintegrate into a shower of flying wax.

Shirley waited for the applause to finally die down. Then she said,
"Now you know that I am an expert with these." She again snapped them
underhand over the audiences head. "Tonight I am going to give you a
demonstration of the difference between duty and love. I am going to
give both Nubbin and Beat Girl twenty-five strokes of the whip. Some
will be very light kisses." The left-hand whip snapped over the
audience. It was a very light crack.

"Some, not so light." The right hand whip cracked and it was like a
rifle shot. Then Shirley snapped both whips. The crack was somewhere
between the kiss and the rifle shot. "But every stroke to both Nubbin
and Beat Girl will be identical. Nubbin is here because she lost a bet
to me. She is letting me do all this to her because she is an
honorable woman and it is her duty. Beat Girl is here tonight because
she got herself in trouble and she needs the money. But she is letting
me do all of this to her because she loves me. And I am doing this
because I love her."

She snapped the whips above the crowd once again and said in a very
dramatic voice, "Now see the difference between duty and love."

Shirley turned to me and said in a very stern voice, "You may not cum
until the twenty-fifth stroke." Then she turned to Vicki, laughed
slightly and said, "You may cum whenever you want. You don't enjoy
pain as much as Beat Girl, but you enjoy it a lot more than you are
willing to admit."

She then stepped back slightly on the stage and began snapping the
whips against the two girls at the same time. She would snap the whip
in the air and then strike. The first several snaps were kisses that
landed squarely in the middle of Beat Girl and Nubbin's ass cheeks.
Then a louder crack signaled a harder strike and two more simultaneous
strokes landed on ass cheeks.

The impact of the whip could be heard throughout the room. So could
Vicki's scream, and, I think, my moan of pleasure. At that point, I
thought that I could probably endure any pain possible. And it wasn't
just my E buddies. Oh, they were there all right, but there was an
even greater high flowing trough my body. Shirley had told me, and the
whole world, that she loved me.

Two more snaps landed on my body... kisses on the outside of my right
breast and then my left. They were kisses. They were kisses from
Shirley. As soon as I thought that, I was in trouble. I could hear
Vicki struggling to endure the pain, but I was now struggling to hold
back an orgasm.

A louder snap signaled that a harder strike was coming and I felt the
whip bite into my right breast. Another loud snap and another bite,
but this time on my left breast. Down, beast, down! Mistress said no
orgasm until the twenty-fifth stroke!

A soft snap signaled a kiss to come and suddenly the whip kissed my
right nipple. Even a light kiss of the whip right on the nipple caused
a yelp from me and a scream from Vicki. Another soft snap and the whip
kissed my left nipple. This time I was expecting it and remained
silent. Vicki did not.

Knowing the pattern that Shirley had been following, I really expected
a loud snap and a terrible bite on my nipple, but instead there was
another soft snap and a kiss on the front of my right hip. Soft snaps
and light kisses continued. The kisses worked their way across my
abdomen. They were working closer and closer to my pussy and drawing
my thoughts more and more to my throbbing clit.

I wondered if Vicki's clit was also throbbing or if she was still just
enduring pain. The change in Vicki's voice answered my question. She
was no longer screaming, but was rather grunting and moaning with each
kiss of the whip. I guess everyone has E buddies. Some just have more
and faster E buddies. Mine are really fast and I must have a whole lot
of E friends on my pain page.

Vicki was definitely climbing the hill. I had been on the peak for
quite a while, hanging on desperately... and my fingers were slipping.

I suddenly had a terrifying thought. How would I know it was the
twenty-fifth stroke. No one was counting. With no one was counting, I
might let go too early!

The kisses moved between my legs. The whip was curling up between my
legs and snapping slightly outward so that the kiss landed just
outside my labia. Three or four whip kisses landed between my legs and
I finally realized that I would know when the final stroke hit. I knew
what it would be and I knew that it would be coming soon. Two more
soft snaps signaled kisses and then there was a very loud snap. I
closed my eyes and took a deep breath. This was going to be it.

The whip came up between my legs and the tip snapped exactly against
my clit. It wasn't as hard as the loud snap might have signaled, but
it was definitely not a kiss. I knew that was stroke twenty-five, and
more importantly, my body knew.

In that fraction of a second before my orgasm overwhelmed me, I
expected to hear Vicki's scream, but instead I heard the beginning of
a loud groan of pleasure. Vicki was also going into a major orgasm- or
at least I think she was. I lost control at that point as my own
orgasm overwhelmed me. 

Your body reacts differently when you orgasm while tautly held
standing up. It is like the orgasm echoes around inside you going from
your head to your feet and back in waves. And your mind reacts
differently to an orgasm when there are 300 people applauding wildly.

I've had orgasms in public before, but in those cases as you explode
off the cliff, you know in the back of your mind that somebody is or
might be watching. 300 people were definitely letting me know that
they were watching me scream and writhe and squirt. And that wasn't
counting the probably thousands who were watching the live webcast.

My mind's reaction to the applause flung me back up into the
stratosphere. It was public humiliation, but it was more than that.
Maybe my mind took the applause as approval of my public pleasure.
Maybe it took it as a command to go higher. Whatever happened, a
second wave of extreme pleasure overwhelmed me and I screamed out even
louder and thrashed so violently that I was afraid I was going to tear
loose the restraints- or my shoulder.

Finally the applause, and my orgasm subsided and Shirley bowed to the
audience. "That concludes our live show for the evening," she said.
"Remember to join Beat Girl on line every Tuesday night for her weekly
webcasts."

She bowed again and started to walk off stage. The two burly security
guys pushed us off stage behind her. As the curtains closed behind us,
the audience gave one last round of applause and shouts.

The men released us from our restraints and both Vicki and I stood on
shaky legs in front of Shirley. "You bitch!" Vicki said. She was
trying to sound angry, but there was a smirk on her face.

"Are you telling me that you didn't like it?" asked Shirley, matching
Vicki's smirk.

"No," Vicki replied. "I did." She pointed her finger at Shirley. "And
you knew I would."

"Yes, I did," answered Shirley. "You liked it very much." She reached
over and lifted Vicki's head. "And you would have liked it much, much
more if I had been a Batman rather than Catwoman."

Vicki reddened. The color of her face was more than enough to verify
Shirley's claim.

"I could set you up with a young Master at the club," Shirley said.
"You made quite an impression on some of them when I took you there as
my guest slave."

"That was just so I could see what the club was like." Vicki
protested. "I don't even know if I want to go back."

Shirley laughed and reached down to slip a finger through Vicki's
crack. Vicki gave a slight moan. "The body never lies," said Shirley
with another laugh. "The body never lies."

I turned around and started toward the door and stopped suddenly.
There were two county deputies standing behind us in full uniform. I
recognized one of them from the night they found me under the
interstate.

"Evening, Maddi," he said.

I was starting to panic when Shirley put her hand on my shoulder and
said, "It's all right. I made arrangements for them to accompany us to
the bank to make the deposit. They also guarded the receipts during
the performance."

I whispered to Shirley, "Could they see the performance?"

I must have been a little louder than I thought because one of them
answered, "Yes ma'am, we could. It was quite a show." He paused a
moment and added, "... but legal out here outside the city limits."

The other officer then added, "But remember to cover it up before you
go outside. I wouldn't want to have to wrap you up in a blanket
again."

Then he stepped up in front of me and said softly, "And maybe the next
time I find a girl doing what you were doing, I will understand a
little better and just tell her to go home and find a safer way to
fulfill her fantasies."

"Thank you," I said.

Vicki and I took off our masks and capes and pulled our dresses on
over our heads. Shirley remained in costume as we walked back to the
car. 

We were about at the car when one of the deputies said, "Can't do
that, Shirley."

She turned around and he added, "Face has to be visible when you are
driving a car."

"Rats," she said as she pulled off her mask and hood. "I was hoping to
brighten some poor sucker's life who has to review security tapes all
day."

We made the deposit at the bank and Shirley dropped Vicki off at her
place about 4:00 in the morning. Dawn was starting to lighten the sky
when she dropped me off in front of my house.

I was too worked up to sleep, so I wrote this entry for Saturday. It's
now about 9:00 in the morning and I am dead tired. I am going to bed.

End of entry for Day Thirty

Maddi's Diary, Day Thirty-One, Sunday - Final Entry.

Mom got in early last night. Dad got home around noon. I got up around
2:00.

Dad is always a little grumpy when he has a long haul that brings him
back on Sunday. He says he'd rather do a two weeker than a Sunday
return. "I don't have time to do anything here except catch an
overnight nap," he complained.

"Oh, I don't know," Mom answered as she sat on his lap. "There is time
for one or two other things."

I was just walking into the living room and decided that it would be
best for me to pretend that I hadn't heard anything.

"How did last night go?" Mom asked.

"What happened last night?" said Dad.

"Benefit concert to help with her legal fees," chirped Mom as she
smiled at me.

"It went well," I answered. "Between that and some other ideas, I
think I have enough to pay things off."

Dad looked like he wanted to ask more questions, but Mom gave him one
of her "Do you really want to know?" looks and he instead returned to
his paper.

"Good to hear that," he mumbled.

The rest of the day was really normal. I was too tired and too sore to
do much of anything.

Just before I went to bed, I got a text from Harold that said, "Wire
transferred $20,000 to your account. There is more if you need it, but
I thought you would want to build your reserve back up."

I texted back a thank you and climbed into bed. Just before I fell
asleep I suddenly thought, "Was the whole world watching me last
night?"

End of entry for Day Thirty-One

End of entry for Week Five

 

Maddi's Diary, Day Thirty-Two, Monday

This is actually an addendum or an epilogue or whatever you want to
call it. Whatever it is, this is truly my last entry. My diary for Dr.
B ended yesterday, but if I am going to let others read this, I
thought that I should say what happened today.

First thing this morning Shirley and I went to the bank and verified
the deposits and got some certified checks. Then we went to the court
house and paid all my fines and the hospital and cleared all of my
bills there.

After we got the receipts from the clerk at city hall, I told Shirley
that I would have to see Dr. B one last time so that he could release
me. She surprised me when she said she wanted to come along. I told
her that Dr. B might not allow that, but she said that she thought he
would understand. I wasn't so sure.

My appointment was for 10:30.  We had to really hustle to get
everything done and get there on time. When the receptionist told me
to go on in, Shirley followed me through the door.

Dr. B greeted me with, "Hello, Maddi." Then he turned to Shirley and
said, "Good morning, Mistress Shirley."

She replied, "Good morning, Master Thomas."

I thought my jaw was going to hit the floor. "I told you he understood
you a lot better than you thought," Shirley said.

"I understand that you have cleared all outstanding fees, fines and
obligations," he said with a grin. Then he handed me two sheets of
paper.

"The top form is my official release. My findings state that you have
a high tolerance for and an unusual craving for pain, but that you are
mentally fit and not a danger to yourself or society."

He laughed, "In other words, you're kinky, but you're not nuts."

"The lower form," he continued, "is your official release from
supervision."

"I thought I had to appear before a judge to get that," I said,
somewhat surprised.

"I know a judge who understand these things a little better than
most," he explained. "She was willing to sign the forms based on my
explanation of the situation."

"Mistress Judy?" Shirley asked.

Dr. B just laughed and said, "Good guess."

"Then we're through here?" I asked.

"Not quite," said Shirley. "Doctor Bergenstein, does pre-collaring
counseling for the Society."

"Master Thomas," she said, addressing Dr. B. "Would you be willing to
guide Maddi and me through that?"

"I would be delighted," he replied.

"Pre-collaring counseling?" I said. "That sounds a little weird."

"Kinky isn't crazy," Dr. B, or should I say, Master Thomas said. "And
any relationship can use a little help in the beginning. I will tell
my secretary to set you up with a series of appointments."

"Can I make one request?" I said.

They both looked at me, and I continued, "Not on Wednesday morning.
Even Beat Girl needs to get her sleep."

Shirley kissed me on the forehead and said, "Especially since Harold
wants to know if Beat Cat and Nubbin can make occasional guest
appearances."

I looked at her with wide open eyes and she added, "I told him we
would have to think about it."

I asked her if she was serious. She gave me a hug and said, "I don't
know, maybe we should save Nubbin and Beat Cat for your live
appearances."

I think she was teasing me... but I'm not sure.

End of entry for Day Thirty-Two

End of Diary
 
 = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = 
END OF STORY
 = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = 

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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