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Home at last. Learning what works, and doesn't.

Although somewhat protected by my labia, my clit and pussy were still quickly become quite sore. To avoid having the blows landing in the same place each time, I tried shifting my weight from one leg to the other. Unfortunately, my efforts only managed to further open my labia.

The very next strike of the whip connected directly with my clit. I shrieked in pain, which caused everyone to laugh loudly.

Within seconds, the speed of the strikes picked up markedly. Tears ran down both of my cheeks, smearing my eye makeup, everywhere. As I sobbed, saliva dribbled from my mouth, and I could feel it dropping onto my store breasts. The intensity of their attack made it difficult for me to catch my breath.

At last, when I was close to begging for mercy, the machine powered down. I was limb, and hanging from the wrist restraints, panting heavily. Tim came over and released me. I collapsed into his arms.

Everyone came over and congratulated me for hanging on so long. However, I was exhausted. So, Tim carried me upstairs to our bedroom, and I instantly fell asleep.

I awoke the next morning, rolled over, and instantly regretted moving. My breasts felt like that had been nailed to the bed. My thighs and vagina were quite sore too. I went to the bathroom, and rubbed everywhere, soothing the burning.

My reflection in the mirror surprised me. Even at his most brutal, Tim had never left this many marks on me. Angry red lines literally covered my breasts, pelvic region, and thighs. They looked like a patchwork raised swollen tunnels.

I crawled back into bed, and masturbate. The lingering pain from my welts and lacerations helped me get off. Just as I was coming, Tim walked into the bedroom with my breakfast.

He stood there with tray, watching me arch high, and moan loudly. Our eyes locked for the whole orgasm. It was almost as delicious as the breakfast.

As I ate, Tim recounted how much our friends had enjoyed watching me suffer. I complemented him for creating such a wickedly spectacular device. I wanted to try again, but this time with strangers remotely controlling my whipping. He thought that we could pull off this very next weekend, once I had sufficient time to fully heal.

I spent most of that week working from home. The days seemed to crawl by, as my anticipation grew for the weekend. Every evening, Tim would come home, and head straight to the basement. He kept the basement door locked, so that I couldn't see what he was working on, which, of course, made me even more curious about what he was up to.

Saturday night finally rolled around. I brushed my long red hair, tied it up with a pretty blue ribbon, and applied a generous amount of lipstick, eyeliner, and facial makeup. Then, I stripped naked, and then Tim cuffed and blindfolded me.

As guided me down the steps to the basement, I was eager to find out what new things were in store for me. Once there, he removed my blindfold. Once my eyes focused, I saw a new machine beneath the cross, right next to the whipping device.

It had two giant dildos mounted on top of it. The cleverly boy had constructed a fucking that delivered twice the punch. The dildos were fastened to rods, which were connected to a large motor on the floor.

I had always wanted to try double-penetration, and it appeared I was now going to get the chance, machine style. If my hands hadn't been cuffed behind me, I would have been rubbing my clit in anticipation.

Tim ran over to it, and began to explain how he had built it. I was impressed to hear that it used washing machine motor. My mind raced with thought of how powerful that motor must be. My mouth was wide open, as my tongue licked my lips.

Tim retrieved a spreader bar, and locked my ankles in it. Then, he extended it until my legs couldn't open any wider. He uncuffed me, and helped me onto the cross. This time, I was facing it.

He secured my wrists and ankles, once again spread-eagling me.

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