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They contiinued to lift her up and down as she emitted pitiful cries until they finally came then they let her slide down to pull their softened dicks from her holes.

She looked dazed. Both their dicks were bloody and they made her further humiliate herself by licking her blood off their pricks.

I thought it was terrible they could do that to the poor little girl and was shocked to find it had excited Jon so much he insisted I suck his dick. That was really humiliating as the men around us gathered around to watch and make comments. They must have been complimenting Jon as I heard him say, "Gracias" one of the few words I understood.

There was a delay as we heard something being dragged out behind the curtain. Then the announcer started talking. Jon said, "This is the finale. A girl has volunteered to get out of debtors prison by accepting a whipping that will pay off her debt. She has agreed to a hundred lashes."

Two men wearing black pants and black hoods over their heads walked out holding the arms of a fully clothed girl. My clit twinged. They looked just like the executioners in a history book photo of the Spanish Inquisition with their hairy muscled bare chests. The photo had triggered fantasies of myself as a christian martyr.

I had to give her credit. She was staring out at the audience with a defiant look on her face. The defiance disappeared though after she was hung by the ceiling from her wrists and a pipe put between her legs to hold her legs open. Then one of the men began cutting off her clothes with a knife slowly to provide a strip tease until she was entirely naked to show her nice body.

Even that was not naked enough for them. She gasped and squealed as he pinched her pubic hair between thumb and fingers to rip them out. It jerked her pussy lips out and open until only a few were left then gave her red pussy a sharp spank to leave no doubt it would be punished.

They turned her back to us and a man brought them the same two whips the girls had used so I knew there would be cuts.

They started just below her shoulders and the pain was constant because as one brought back his whip the other would hit. I couldn't believe how bloodthirsty the crowd was. As she let out blood curdling screams they began yelling the count. Bloody stripes began moving down her back as her screams became hoarse. I don't think she felt the last two across her upper thighs since her head dropped in an apparent faint.

They let her down to lie on the floor then the announcer said something. Jon told me he apologised for the girl's lack of courage and that they would make sure she would not faint again by hanging her upside down and reviving her with cold salt water to sterilize her wounds.

They attached the rope to the pipe and lifted her to tie her wrists to rings in the floor. Then they doused her back with salt water. It must have burned her welts terribly as she came to screaming hoarsely.

They started on her thighs then put one on each side of her open slit before moving on down her stomach to her breasts. The announcer was right. She couldn't faint with all the blood in her head. When the whips cut her nipples she could only shake her head and moan. They started back up and now welts crossed welts to make bloody x's until they finished with four all to her pussy.

At that point the curtains closed and the audience rose to give a standing ovation. I just knelt there stunned. I could hardly believe they could enjoy watching such carnage, Worst of all Jon was applauding as hard as he could and whistling in approval.

He started to leave but I said, "Wait. I feel weak."

He said, "Oh did that give you orgasms?"

"No! It terrified me! How could you enjoy watching what they did to her?"

"Ah come on. She asked for it."

"They must have tricked her. She couldn't have known how bad it would be."

"Maybe not but she still agreed to it. It is her fault if she didn't ask what they would do."

"I wouldn't have asked. It would never occur to me they could be so mean. She must have been desparate to get out of jail."

"Maybe. I understand the jails here are pretty bad. Oh look. That is a nice touch."

He pointed out the man and girl with black hair. She was leaving on her hands and knees while her man led her with a leash attached to a dog collar. It seemed to be the ultimate humiliation to be recduced to nothing more than a pet dog totally reliant on it's master. It suddenly occurred to me that I had described myself. I was nothing without Jon. I had no assets and no way I could earn enough money to enjoy the life style he provided. I knew I would let him lead me down main street totally naked if he wanted to rather than leave him.

The crowd had thinned so he helped me up to lead me to the exit. I was given my clothes and hurriedly put them on to feel more secure.

To my horror he asked the man at the door when the next show would be and was disappointed when told in a week since we had to return home and he would miss it.

We got on the plane the next day. I was frightened that the show might encourage him to be meaner and was really relieved when I did a dumb thing in tracking mud onto our white rug and he was satisfied by simply spanking my butt with a quirt.

No further mention was made of the show but I knew he had not forgotten it when he came home with a diamond studded collar and leash. he got a big kick out of leading me around then teaching me to "Heel" sit up and beg, and play dead. Playinf dead was the hard part. I had to lie on my side and not move or cry out while he spanked my butt or breasts lightly with a small wooden dowel.

About two weeks after we got back the statues arrived. He had the workmen uncrate the kneeling one by our pool and the crucified girl in a corner of the torture chamber. The men embarrassed me by looking at our torture devices then leering at me to let me know they knew I was the subject of torture.

I loved the crucified girl and spent hours fondling her body and welts while I imagined myself in her place.

One day he found me staring at it and said, "The statue really fascinates you doesn't it?"

I said, "Oh yes. She was so brave. I think she must have been tortured to reveal some secret. Maybe the location of her spy lover."

"You always like to romanticize things. She is probably just a figment of the artist's imagination."

"Oh no. A model could never get that expression on her face or the exhausted look. She was whipped alright. I wonder how it must have felt." He made no comment but a few days later some men arrived with a replica of the cross he had placed in the opposite corner.

As soon as they left I begged him to put me on it.

He had me stand on a chair to put on the wrist cuffs and let me bend my legs slowly until my pussy was resting on the peg. He removed the chair and said I was beautiful and looked just like the statue. I found I could lift myself by my arms to apply just the right amount of pressure on my clitoris to rock my hips and work toward orgasm. I couldn't quite get there and begged him to whip me. He just used the thong whip but that was enough to bring me to full orgasm and let me release my arms to let my whole weight rest on my clit and press it against my pubic bone.

He ran to get our polaroid and took pictures before letting me down.

He exclaimed, "This is fantastic. Look! She looks just like you. I wonder if she is a long dead relative."