Hellfire Part Two by Robyn Masters Page A

thong that leaves nothing to the imagination.
                  “Oh God. I have never felt a flogger on my bare skin before Sir. I might have to use the safe word. I am very concerned that I might not be able to say the word when you strangle me.”
                  “Strangle you?” he asks.
                  “Yes Sir, you said that this would be a stranglehold flogging,” she replies.
                  He smirks. “Yes child. What I meant by that is that I will be flogging you to the rhythm of the classic song by Ted Nugent, “Stranglehold. I will not be strangling you.”
                  “Oh. I have never heard of this song. Are you sure they have it on the sound system Sir?”
                  “I have it on CD. I will be right back.”
                  The dominant brings the CD to the cross dressing bartender and asks if he can play it and the bartender agrees without hesitation.
                  As the dominant walks back to the cross and his newly acquired slave the music begins. The slave faces away from the room and cannot see what is about to happen. The dominant pulls out a leather flogger from his bag that appears to be well worn from hundreds of hours of use tanning the hides of many a submissive.
                  As the song reaches the part of the swoosh hi-hat sound, he steps behind his young and innocent victim and lets the flogger fly in time with each swoosh. She stands vey still at first but with each additional swat of the flogger her legs begin to move in an effort to get out of the way of the flogger which is a futile attempt.
                  “Oh my God. Please Sir. Please Sir,” she screams out over the music.
                  He walks up and asks in her ear, “Please what child? Please more.. please harder?”
                  “Yes Sir. More. Please.”
                  He reaches down between her legs and runs his fingers over her pussy now trenched in her flowing juices running down her stout thighs.
                  He retrieves another flogger from his black bag and uses both in time with the music giving the illusion of a wind mill turning in the wind faster and faster.
                  His timing is impeccable and he is right on tempo with the beat of the song. As he gets into the song more and more, he begins to turn and dance in place. A crowd begins to form as a simple flogging turns into a well-choreographed performance. The bartender turns on the light synchronization mixer and the colored lights in the main room react in unison with the movements of the man and his floggers as they turn a white pasty ass into a bright red masterpiece of art created by a true artist.
                  The young woman bound to the cross is so deep into sub space she has no idea what is happening to her. Her pain threshold is beyond her fear expectations and she surrenders to the desires of her Master.
                  The concert version of the song comes to an end after 23 minutes and thus so does the flogging of Slave Cheyenne. She is released and slowly stumbles to the browbeaten sofa where thirty minutes earlier she met the Dominant of her dreams.
                  As Cheyenne lies on the sofa she folds into the fetal position and begins to cry. A common after effect for most subs when coming out of scene. A few other submissive females come to her aid and comfort her as she comes down from her sub space high.
                  Meanwhile her Dom is being approached by another submissive who is interested in playing. He accepts her and again, another flogging session begins. This process continues into the wee hours of the morning. Submissive after submissive desires to play with the older, experienced Dominant. He works his magic over and over again until