Six months have passed since my first visit to the Da Vinci Club with my Master and Mistress, and we are there again tonight.

The first experience was strangely erotic and appealing, and I am looking forward to my second visit with enthusiasm.

I am also better prepared, having spent time at the club with Michael, the lead Dom. He has shown me coping mechanisms and demonstrated all the devices and apparatus they use.

At seven o'clock prompt, I knock on their door, and Master invites me into their room as he opens the door.

"Thank you, Master," I politely reply.

"Get out of those ridiculous clothes," commands Mistress as soon as I enter the room. "What do you think you look like?"

"Sorry, Mistress," I reply and swiftly undress.

"Throw those in the bin," she points to a bin in the corner.

I do as I am told and say nothing.

She slaps me hard across my bum. "You always acknowledge us when we speak to you."

"Yes, Mistress, sorry, Mistress," I simper.

"Give me a twirl," orders Master.

I pirouette for him.

"Such a lovely body; it seems almost a shame to defile it, only almost though," he laughs.

"Yes, Master," I agree.

"This is what you will wear tonight," the Mistress hands me a package. "Open it, then."

"Yes, Mistress," I reply.

I carefully unwrap the package, not wanting to make a mess, and set the packaging aside to reveal my clothing for tonight.

It's a tiny flesh-colored bodysuit, and it looks more suited to a child.

"It will stretch to fit; don't worry about that; now get it on," Mistress instructs.

I sit on the edge of a chair and roll the garment up, just as I would when putting on stockings or tights. Mistress is correct; it stretches nicely and is very soft. Standing up to pull it over my body, Master helps by pulling at the back and guiding my arms through the short sleeves.

"Look in the mirror," Master commands.

My body is sculpted within this garment; every curve and crevice is noticeable. Its flesh color makes me look naked. Not only my pussy slit, but my lips squashed around it, and my little fringe of pubic hair are all visible, as is my belly button. As for my boobs! My nipples are standing proud, with the dimples and brown coloration of my areola clearly defined. I can only guess what I look like from behind!

"Brilliant," says Mistress, "fully clothed but naked too, just the look I wanted."

"You are clever, my dear; I think it's a masterstroke of your design efforts," Master gushes.

I'm cringing at the thought of walking out like this; however, unlike last time, my body is covered.

Reflecting on that time makes me tingle with anticipation.

Pump-style shoes are produced for me to wear, and off we go. Slipping out of the hotel's side entrance, avoiding the foyer, I embrace the walk to the tube station. Standing tall, well, as tall as my five-foot frame will let me, and walking with purpose and confidence, I stand assuredly on the train for forty-five minutes, daring anyone to say anything—just as Michael preaches.

My confidence is rewarded: people gaze and stare in disbelief at what they see, but no one touches or comments.

Once at the club, the Master passes me over to Michael as usual. This time, I was not required to undress in the foyer, but instead I was led to a side room, where Michael and his assistant peeled my outfit from my body.

Michael fits hook-encrusted leather anklets, bracelets, and a collar on me, and then spreads my legs apart, pulls on my pussy lips, and fits clamps to them. Three on each. Chains are fixed between the clamps and the anklets, pulling my lips gently down and apart, exposing my pink inner sex.

Next, a matching leather harness is bought out, again heavily covered in hooks and eyes. Stepping into it, Michael and his assistant pull it up my legs, stopping just below my crotch as they attach a dildo to it, liberally lubricate it, and pull the harness up, guiding the dildo into my open vagina and tugging the harness further up my body and between my breasts. Straps wrap over my shoulders and down to the waistband, attached with buckles. My wrists also get clipped to the waistband, restraining my arms by my sides. Everything is adjusted until Michael is satisfied with the fit and look.

I have no say in whether it is comfortable or not. It's not. The leather is rubbing at my tender pussy opening and pulling tightly into my shoulders.

One last piece of leather, a hood, is placed over my head, covering my eyes but leaving my ears uncovered.

I hear a click as a lead is fitted to the collar around my neck.

Following the lead is not easy when blindfolded, and Michael's assistant guides me along and up the steps into the lounge.

A huge cheer welcomes us as we enter the room; it sounds full tonight.

"Catch this," Michael shouts. "Press the buttons and see what happens."

I immediately buckle at the knees as potent vibrations pulse through my body. This thing inside my vagina feels and sounds like an industrial tool! Everyone laughs and jeers. Michael jerks me back up straight.

Standing is difficult; the vibrations are so powerful, affecting not just my internal sweet spots but the external ones as well, especially my clitoris, as the waves travel through the leather strapping. These are tormenting my tender nub to distraction. I gasp and cry as an orgasm shudders through me, bringing me to my knees. Michael jerks me up once more.

General laughter and cheering greet my outburst. I have never orgasmed so quickly! Or so publicly!

Michael tugs on the leash, and I follow blindly, his assistant guiding me as we climb two steps onto a stage. We are still in the main lounge area, not the smaller performance room as on the last occasion.

The continuing vibrations are making it difficult for me to focus or walk.

"I'll have that back now," he says to someone in the crowd. The vibrations stop, and I stand a little straighter.

There are clicks and rustling at my shoulders, and then they pull me up and off the floor. All my weight is pulling through the leather strap between my legs, pulling tighter into my open gash, and pushing the vibrator deeper inside of me, pushing it painfully against my cervix.

Hands gently push at my shoulders, spinning me around and showing me off to the audience.

SLAP, SLAP, coordinated paddle blows hit my right tit and left bum cheek, spinning me around. Again and again, the paddles strike their violent blows, spinning me faster and faster. The pain burns through my body. Remembering Michael's teachings and chanting my mantra, 'Pain is transitory.' It works a little, and the pain recedes, or I get used to it. The blows keep coming, SLAP, SLAP. They are harder and more painful than anything I have experienced before.
Hearing the crowd stamping, clapping, and cheering excites me.

They finish their assault, and I come to a gentle stop.

SLAP, SLAP, this time on my left tit and right bum cheek. Spinning me the other way. Evening out the pain.' Pain is transitory. Their coordination is good, each blow landing at the same time, imparting the pain equally to my tit and bum, maximizing my spinning.

They stop, leaving me suspended and waiting in anticipation. I gulp down great lungfuls of air and regain my composure.

The pain in my cervix now takes over as the pain in my breasts and bum recedes; it is getting very unpleasant.

My legs get pulled apart, and a bar is attached to the anklets, opening my sex. Allowing the dildo to slip ever so slightly deeper and pressing even harder against my cervix.

Trembling as the vibrations return. Michael scrolls through the settings. High-speed vibrations ravage my inner sex, making that pain at my cervix unbearable. I twist and turn to alleviate it, to no avail. My clitoris is burning with pleasure as the vibrations are transferred through the leather band, confusing my thoughts between pain and ecstasy. Then it happens—the point when pain turns to pleasure. The pressure on my cervix is now becoming unbearable for another reason, one not felt before. Low-speed rumbles send waves throughout my body, making me shake uncontrollably.

My body arches forward, pushing my stomach out, as all the muscles in my legs, arms, back, and everywhere else tighten and tense as a tremendous orgasm rocks through me. The vibrations do not stop. Michael keeps them coming, varying the intensity and pushing pleasure back to pain and pain back to pleasure repeatedly. My body is out of control, flapping about, tightening up, shaking uncontrollably, and responding to every pleasurable/painful input. Eventually, the vibrations stop, leaving me hanging like a rag doll, limp and lifeless, tears running under my mask. Pain haunts my mind, pleasure torments my body.

They lowered me to the floor, unclipping my arms from my sides, removing the harness, letting the cursed vibrator plop out of my wet pussy. The audience is ecstatic. The bar between my ankles has also been removed, only to have something else attached to the anklets. Slowly, with my body supported by Michael or his assistant, they raise me into the air by my ankles.

Suspended upside down, naked, and legs spread wide, much wider than the bar had managed. I dangle and sway while waiting for whatever is to come—listening to the excited crowd.

Smack! My pussy gets smacked by a paddle. I jerk and gasp in pain. Then, from behind me, a multi-stranded whip slashes across my open sex. The tips slapped into my clitoris, turning my pleasure nub into a thing of pain.

The whip strikes again, its strands extending past my sex and slashing onto my stomach; then, gently and tormentingly, it is drawn slowly back over my wanton gash. Its last tender caress slid over my bum crease. The paddle has no such gentleness as it joins in the fun once again and crashes against my nakedness. Pain flares between my legs. 'Pain is transitory.'

My labia is swelling in response to the attacks it is suffering, as is my clitoris. My poor nub, standing so proudly, is such an easy target. There is no pleasure in this assault; it is all pain and humiliation.

I don't realize how tense my body has become until they stop abusing me, and my body goes limp. My abused sex throbbing in distress.

"Anyone want a go?" Michael asks the mob. "You there, you can go first, six strokes only using any whip or paddle on any part of her body."

Three times each, the exposed underside of my tits is battered by a paddle, making them and me scream in pain. He held nothing back, hitting me harder than Michael ever had.

"You, madam, up you come. The same rules apply," Michael affirms.

My tender and sensitive pussy gets whipped six times with what must be a riding crop. However, she is inaccurate and misses all the most sensitive bits. Still, the stinging pain around my mound is incredible.

Now, they lower me down and stand me back onto my feet, unsteadily at first, supported by Michael or his assistant.

My arms are lifted over my head and held there as a rope is wrapped around my chest and then encircles each breast, burning against the skin as it is pulled tight. My breasts go tight and taut, feeling fit to burst. The rope is led down between my legs, one strand on either side of my pussy and around my hips, being tied off securely. My arms are pulled behind me and bound at the elbows, pulling my shoulders back and chest forward.

Once more, they raise me into the air, lifting me from my chest and hips, letting my legs and head droop down. The rope cuts into my soft flesh, pulling on my breasts. Once hanging in the air, chest uppermost, they fold my legs at the knee, pushing my calves against my thighs and tying them together.

Straps go between my knees and upper arms, pulling my knees apart as they get tightened, exposing my gaping maw. Finally, a band is placed around my forehead and attached to my elbows, stretching my head down and backward, causing my mouth to open involuntarily.

After fastening clamps to my nipples, fingers probe at my maw, spreading my lips and pushing the hood back from my nub. This, too, gets clamped. All the clamps are linked together by a cord and pulled tight. Stretching my tender protuberances wickedly. Hanging there, spinning gently, displayed to the baying crowd.

"I need two male volunteers with erections. You and you," shouts Michael.

"You stand there; do not touch her; and you stand here, and again, no touching," Michael commands.

The height I am hanging at is adjusted.

"OK, step forward and present your cocks to her lips, no further, or I will replace you," Michael orders.

I feel both cocks probing at both pairs of lips.

"On my command, 'enter,' you will push your cocks smoothly into her as far as you can. Then stop, understand?" Michael explains.

"Yes," the volunteers answer in unison.

"Enter."

Two cocks slide smoothly into me, and the one going into my mouth seems surprised when he finds my nose pressed into his stomach.

"Oh, my," he exclaimed.

"Good. Now, on my command, you will pull out until you have about one inch left inside of her, and then I will give you a rhythm to follow. I will say 'in' and 'out.' You will follow this rhythm until you cum; you then stay inside her till the other chap cums, too," Michael instructs.

"Out. In, out," Michael repeats over and over.

They follow his rhythm metronomically, slowly increasing in speed. With them acting in concert, my body is not moving much, just enough to make my nub and nipples move in unison as they pull against their restraints, adding to their torment. The smooth rhythm does, however, allow me to breathe, if not easily.

"I need two female volunteers. You will do," Michael's assistant shouts.

"When her pussy or mouth is filled with cum I want you to clean it out," he tells them.

In, out, the cock in my pussy pulsates and empties his seed into my vagina. Waiting in there, gently wilting, till his opposite number is done. He takes a little longer, cumming in my mouth initially, then pushing deeper to finish off down my throat. Cum dribbles from the sides of my mouth and over my cheeks.

The women are immediately at my dripping holes once the cocks are removed. Gobbling greedily, drinking their fill, and teasing at my sex, tormenting the base of my encased nub.

"Enough, you have done your job. Please, all sit down. Please, one more male volunteer.

You, at the back." Michael summons someone.

"Stand at her pussy, wait on my command, then fuck her as hard and fast as you can," he instructs.

"Fuck her."

He rams his not-inconsiderable cock violently into my waiting hole. Hitting my cervix, making us both gasp. It must be painful for him, too. He moderates his depth but pounds into me for all he's worth—rocking my body violently. My restrained nub and nipples jump and pull at their restraints, jerking back and forth. Pulling painfully at my nipples, ripping my nub from its seat, or so it feels.

Thrusting and pounding, he is building to his climax when suddenly, the clamp on my clitoris pulls free. My guttural scream is of pain, not pleasure. It feels like my nub has been pulled from me.

He explodes inside of me, filling my sex with cum.

"Stay inside her," Michael shouts. "You girl, come up here; your turn to clean her out."

When the cock is pulled from me, the girl's mouth greedily takes its place. Slurping and sucking at my hole, taking her fill of cum. She moves to my clitoris and sucks it into her mouth. Making me wince and groan in, surprisingly, pleasure. Michael does not stop her as she continues to please me, bringing me quickly to a welcome orgasm, much to the delight of the cheering crowd.

"Back to your seat," Michael says. "You, your turn, and you," he continued.

"As for the first time, mouth and cunt. Ready. Enter. Wait." Michael commands.

He leaves them waiting, teasing them, and the audience.

"You lot, on three, start the rhythm and keep it going," he shouts to the impatient mob.

"Three."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." is chanted by the mob, getting faster and faster as they get into a rhythm.

The men are doing the fucking struggle to keep up and are soon out of step with one another. The effect shakes my body violently, the loose clamp swinging wildly. Until someone gets annoyed with its flight, grabs and throws it aside, ripping the clamps free from my nipples in the process, rending pain through them like nothing I had felt before. My scream gets a massive response from the watching crowd.

The men cum inside me without me noticing until their cocks slip out of my body, followed by their warm juices.

I'm back on the ground, released from all restraints, gathering my thoughts and senses back into order. Standing firm and tall, as Michael has previously instructed, works; I feel more confident and calm as the pain recedes.

Michael walks me across the stage and sits me on a stool, a stool with a dildo that slides easily up my tender pussy. Straps across my lap hold me down. My arms are pulled behind me again—the same scenario, arms tied at the elbow, chest out, shoulders back. Something is dragged in front of me, a table, and my breasts are placed on top of it. My right nipple gets pulled taut, and I feel a fine cord wrapping around it tightly. Both nipples get bound. This is far tighter and grips more completely than any clamp. Massive weights get attached, stretching my nipples and breasts across the tabletop, causing me to groan and gasp in pain.

Slap, slap, slap across the top of my breasts. A whip slashes hard, making me jump and stretching my poor, abused tits even more. Paddles come next, beating viciously, trapping my tits between them and the tabletop, and extracting cries of pain from deep inside of me.

The dildo is a vibrator, just as powerful as the one before. It starts droning out a deep bass rhythm, which ripples up my body, turning my stomach to jelly. The punishment to my breasts stops, and the pounding of the dildo continues. Like me, it ranges from deep bass to a shrill scream. Just as before, I cum quickly, and as before, the torment continues till I am sobbing with pleasure. Then, more pain as the abuse of my breasts starts again; the sobbing turns to gasps of despair. 'Pain is transitory.' My mantra calms me. Everything stops.

My nipples explode with exquisite pain as they are released from the binding. The blood floods back into them, feeling like a million ants crawling over my skin, teasing and delighting as they march on.

I am released from the stool, my arms untied, and a bottle is placed in my hand. I need no instructions, and gulp down the welcome liquid. It is truly over.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you have enjoyed Sharon tonight; she is available for private functions. Please make your inquiries at the reception desk. Now, she is yours to try for the next hour, with no toys or gadgets to be used without my express consent. Otherwise, treat her as the submissive sub she is. I will bring her down to you now." Michael announced.

Did I hear that right? Available for functions. I have never discussed or agreed to anything like that!

Michael leads me off the stage, guiding me down the steps and delivering me into the waiting mob.

Hands grope every area of my body, passing me from one set to another. Getting pushed to my knees, a cock enters my pussy. He manages one thrust before I am pulled away from him. Then, being flipped over, I end up sitting on a cock, which worked a few thrusts before I was lifted off the ground by my breasts. A mouth briefly sucks on my pussy, replaced by fingers thrusting eagerly up inside of me. Whoever lifted me is strong; he throws me into the air, catching me by the hips, and expertly skewers me on his cock. He proceeds to power into me undisturbed. Others pull, slap, and suck at my tits, and more slap at my bum. The strong man shoots his warm cum deep in my pussy, then drops me to the floor.

I get flipped over, and fingers immediately enter my sodden maw, sliding forcibly up inside me. More than fingers! The whole hand slides deep, stretching my tired sex. It's removed as suddenly as it entered, and I get pulled aside again. Another cock enters me, the owner lying over me, protecting me from other assaults, enjoying me for himself. Filling my hole with more seed. Over the next hour, I am abused by anyone and everyone, fucked, slapped, bitten, and fucked again. Filled with and covered in cum. Every part of my body is used or abused.

Michael calls an end to their fun. He gathers me up, clicks the leash back in place, and leads me back onto the stage.

He removes my hood, making me blink rapidly as I get used to the light.

"Here is the girl you all want and have all enjoyed tonight. Please show your appreciation for Sharon," Michael declares.

They clapped, stamped, cheered, and thundered raucous comments over me. Money was being thrown onto the stage.

"That's all yours; the staff will gather it up for you," Michael whispers.

He leads me back to the dressing room, admonishing the crowd not to touch me. Once there, he gave me another drink, which I devoured eagerly.

"What did you mean by 'available for functions'?" I ask.

"Lots of our clients have requested your service tonight, so I thought I would just throw it out there. Of course, you don't have to do it; none of them will be the wiser. However, it's probably doubled the money thrown on the stage." He grins.

"So you were just playing the audience," I laugh.

"Of course. Anyway, how are you now? You stood up to the treatment well, considering it's the first time at this level, especially well," he inquired and complimented.

"Apart from being sore and tender, I think I am alright. I'm a bit lightheaded; that's either euphoria or a lack of fluids."

"Liquids we have in abundance, and a shower," he opens another door and ushers me through.

"The bruising will be visible tomorrow, and there will be some welts as well, especially from the audience participants, but I can assure you there is no permanent marking. Just take things easy for a day or two. Enjoy your shower."

Bliss, the calm waters rejuvenate me, lifting the sweat and cum off my body. Cooling my tender and raw sex, easing the ache in my breasts. Drying myself off is not so pleasant; the towel rubs places that are still sore!

Stepping back into the dressing area, Michael is waiting for me.

"I thought wearing this might be better to leave in," he suggests, holding out a long coat. "The body suit might be tight in places you don't want it to be. I've put the stage money in the pocket; it's about four hundred pounds."

I take the coat gratefully, and I'm surprised at the amount of money.

"Bring the coat back anytime; it's something we keep for such occasions," Michael informs me.

Master and Mistress meet me in the foyer.

"Hurry up. The taxi is waiting," Mistress grumps.

"Yes, mistress," I courteously reply.

A few minutes into the journey, Master asks the driver if he would like his tip in cash or kind. Mistress whips my coat open to show him the 'kind.'

"I'll take kind, I think," the driver leers as he stops the taxi at the side of the road, steps out, and enters the rear with us.

"Anything goes?" he queries.

"Oh my, yes, of course," Master confirms.

"Then I'll have a blow job," the driver says as he takes down his trousers and sits on one of the rear-facing seats.

Master and Mistress remove my coat and push me down onto his waiting cock, swallowing him whole, taking him ball deep, much to his delight. Master and Mistress control the strokes, each holding my head and pumping me up and down, continuing even after he shot his seed down my throat, his wilting cock flapping around freely in my mouth, tormenting him and me for a short time.

He grunts as he pulls his clothes up and returns to the driver's seat.

The rest of the journey passes quickly, and I am soon back in my room, relaxing in a nice, warm bath; the entire evening flashes before my eyes, and I feel quite euphoric as I relive every moment. My body tingles in delight.