Bondage story - The Phantom of the Roxy - 54

Jessica stood naked onstage, staring dumbfoundedly down at herself. Her eyes were wide with shocked disbelief, her mouth open as well. It took several seconds for the full horror of what he’d done to her to sink in. She was standing stark naked on a spotlit stage, before the entire audience; men, women, reviewers and all! It was an actor’s nightmare made real, the unimaginable become fact!

She let out a terrifed shriek and covered herself as best she could with her small hands, starting to shrink backwards away from the lights. But before she had moved very far, the Whisperer grabbed her wrists, pinned them together in one great hand, and swiftly tied a black scarf tightly around them. Then, lifting her bound wrists high over her head, the mad-man calmly turned her to face the audience.

The hot lights made her pale skin glow with supernatural splendor. She was utterly and completely exposed, every detail of her taut, naked body fully displayed, not even a strand of pubic hair to cover her.

She let out a horrifed little whimper, but it was lost in the sudden hubbub that came from the sea of spectators before her. No one had expected this! Not only were they seeing full frontal nudity, but Jessica’s body was nothing short of spectacular. The audience didn’t quite know what to make of it, but there was no denying it was a delight to the eyes. Jessica closed her eyes tightly in a vain attempt to shut out the reality of her situation. A ferce blush rose from her breasts to her face. She expected to faint at that moment and wake up later, when it was all over. She tried to will herself to faint, but it just wouldn’t happen. Why couldn’t she faint? If ever there was a time in her life when she needed to faint, this was it!

But there was no escape for her. The fact that the Whisperer, her secret master, her tormentor and ravisher, was holding her helpless and naked onstage in front of a packed house was simply more than she could get her mind around. To have even one person learn about her secret desires and her role as his slave would be so mortifying she was certain she’d go instantly into cataleptic shock. Yet here she was, naked and bound, in the spotlight before an audience of more than three hundred people! Her mind whirled wildly, a sense of unreality starting to overtake her.

Meanwhile, behind her, the Whisperer was moving quickly. Drawing a rope with a hook on the end out of his jacket, he tossed the hook up into the rigging that supported the lights, catching it as it fell back down. He slipped the hook between her bound wrists and hooked it around the fabric of the scarf, then pulled the other end of the rope taut, stretching Jessica’s wrists high, her body dangling from the rigging, her toes scrabbling for purchase on the wooden stage. He looped the loose end around the hook in a simple knot, drew it tight, and she was helplessly bound.

It had now been a full minute since the Whisperer had torn Jessica’s dress off. No one knew what to do, and ended up doing nothing. The lighting tech kept the lights on even though this hadn’t been in the rehearsals, because to do anything else would ruin the show. Behind the lighting tech Ira clawed at his hair, his eyes like golf balls, in serious dan- ger of hyperventilating.

The audience was muttering nervously, waiting to see where this was leading. They had no way of knowing that the scene had deviated from its course. Certainly, it had swerved wildly in a new direction, but this was avante garde theater, and even this shocking twist could be a part of the show. If they noticed that this man was several inches taller and considerably broader than the vampire had previously been, they didn’t react to the difference.

But the Whisperer wasn’t fnished yet. Stepping up alongside the naked beauty, he drew a three-foot leather whip from his vest. Into the sudden silence, he whispered his intentions. “Now, my darling,” he said, “you shall have the opportunity to prove your love!”

With that he faded upstage, taking up a position behind Jessica and fourishing the whip dramatically. The crowd held its breath. Was he truly going to whip this young beauty? The whip looked so real! How were they going to pull this off?

Suddenly the whip snapped forward, delivering a resounding crack to Jessica’s naked bottom. She gasped loudly at the shock of the blow, and the audience gasped with her. She writhed as the sting burned her fesh, the movement almost sensual. Again the whip snaked out, striking her other cheek and wringing a soft cry of pain from her. Her naked breasts bounced from the shock of the impact. She couldn’t help lifting one knee in reaction, nor could she stop her hips from squirming a little. Again the whip struck, the impact rocking her body, and she tossed her head back and closed her eyes tightly, a low wail escaping her lips. The situation was so far beyond imagining that it barely seemed real to her. The part of her that had felt shame at the slightest impropriety was so completely overwhelmed that it could not deal with this at all, and it was as though that part of her mind had gone numb. Her body seethed with adrenaline, the endorphins making her light-headed and taking most of the pain from her. She felt as though she were dreaming, and her body began to respond as though she were in a dream.

It was a magnifcent show. There was no doubt in the audience’s minds that the whipping was real, and there were cries of outrage at frst. Most had never seen a real whipping before, and though they had a visceral reaction to the idea of a whipping, this graceful young woman with the perfect body made it a thing of unexpected beauty. The whip struck again and again, each blow making her thrust her hips forward in reaction, followed by several seconds of sensuous writhing as she absorbed the pain. Her full breasts bounced gently with each impact, and she often couldn’t help lifting one knee, then lowering it slowly, pressing it inward so that her soft, slick thighs slid together sensually. She seemed to be experiencing her whipping as an almost sexual interlude, an impression that appeared to be corroborated by the way her nipples stood out so stiff and puckered. The delicate and unquestionably sincere cries that escaped her lips were so poignant as to be almost poetry.

The entire audience sat silently through the scene, mesmerized. No one so much as coughed. It created its own mood, apart from the rest of the play, yet in an odd way, building upon it. It was as though Lady Ainsworth were making the ultimate sacrifce for her love, enduring the ultimate test. Some found the scene to be wildly erotic, others thought it unbelievably horrifc, but no one who witnessed that whipping remained unmoved.

At last the whip ceased to fall on Jessica’s faming bare bottom, and with a fourish the Whisperer disengaged her wrists from the hanging hook. She sank to her knees, panting.

“So, my Lady Ainsworth,” he rasped, standing over her.

“Do you still love me?”

Jessica knew instinctively what to do. Without a word, she dropped down and kissed his feet repeatedly, sobbing softly as she did so.

In the light booth, Ira gestured frantically to the lighting tech, and the stage lights faded slowly to black. There was a long, trembling moment of silence, and then the applause began. At frst there were only a handful of people, on their feet and clapping wildly and loudly. Then they were joined by less certain applause, but these rapidly multiplied as more and more people decided that whatever emotions had been stirred in them by the naked whipping, they had at least been stirred. Many of the people in the audience were left sitting angrily in their chairs, outraged at having been made to witness such an obscenely prurient sight, but these were in the minority. Most of the crowd were on their feet, showing their appreciation for the outrageously daring show by making as much noise as they could.

When the lights came up and the actors began their curtain calls, Lady Ainsworth and the vampire were gone, nor did they appear to take their bows. This was a little disconcerting to the crowd, but it would have taken more than that to dampen their mood.

The house lights came on as the cast fled offstage, and it was at that moment that the actors found David, tied up and gagged and struggling his way out of a prop trunk backstage. He was unharmed, but angry at having been overpowered and having to spend the last scene tied up in a box. When Tina ripped the duct tape from his mouth and plucked the wadding out, David spoke. “Where’s Jessica?” he croaked, and the cast members looked at one another blankly.