Bait Naked

by Amanda Knights

  Naomi began to giggle. “My job before here was at a woman’s prison. I was let go for being too enthusiastic with my punishments. Mr. Bain holds that cruel streak in me as a talent to be routinely exercised. As such, I promise that you will feel to the bone every one of the twenty five cuts of my sjambok.”

  “What is a sjambok?”

  “A traditional instrument brought over from Africa by the slavers,” Naomi grinned with a cruel glint in her eyes. “It is about three feet long and is made out of a strip of rolled hippo hide. From the first stroke you’ll wish I was using a cane instead.”

  “When and where do you want me?” Angela asked the severity of the punishment she was to ask for beginning to set in.

  “Keep to yourself for the day and stay in your room this evening,” Naomi answered, taking Angela in her arms and kissing her. “I’ll come for you after dark. When I’m finished, I’ll have a couple of my men carry you back to your room. The resort’s nurse will assist in making you somewhat comfortable and will periodically check on you tomorrow. If I do you right, you will want to stay in bed for the day to recover a bit before showing your torn up ass and thighs to the recreational sadists populating the resort.”

  Having leaped into the fire, Angela returned Naomi’s kiss with real passion. Loving the one who was going to beat you was another one of her character flaws. The big plus was with a welt chewed up rear her target wouldn’t be able to resist making an open move on her.

  Needing a computer with internet access was no longer a priority. Preparing herself for Naomi’s punishment was.

  Chapter 13 Being Better Bait

  Like a pack of ravenous wolves, Angela was sure the men prowling around her lounge chair could smell how sexually hot she was feeling. Following Naomi’s instructions, she had turned a number of them away. She was sure that they didn’t include the one she was looking for, but she sensed he was watching just the same.

  Scanning the many dark openings of the surrounding resort rooms, Angela could feel the predator’s eyes focused on her exposed breasts and sex, his mind filled with a savage desire to have her suffer for him. While unreliable and unstable Jack had better be there watching too. She was laying there bait naked at his behest. For better or worse, he was her only safety net should she step over the passion precipice represented by the mark of the operation. In any case, he had better not leave her on her own.

  Spreading her legs further apart and giving her breasts and pierced nipples a slight quiver, Angela smiled as several visible cocks twitched in response. Nice, but it was the evil desires of one particular man that she was looking to incite. And being better bait would be like an insurance policy to secure his dedicated attention. Naomi had unknowingly provided the means with the scheduled punishment this evening. It would be brutal, but Angela saw it as an opportunity to make an early positive ID on her man.

  To get her mind right and to justify not resisting a significant punishment, Angela picked up the folder she had brought from her room. Reading another of Jack’s twisted reports might help to steady her for the ordeal ahead.

  For Angela Wells’ eyes only

  Victim: Carla Jones

  Age: 37

  Particulars: Divorced single mother, one child

  Occupation: Bartender, aspiring erotic novel writer

  Known Sexual Inclination/Practices: Bi-sexual with sexually submissive tendencies/fantasies

  Angela: Compared to the others, Ms Jones’s case seems rather straight forward. From the writings we had access too she was seemingly smitten by rather rough sexual scenes. Furthermore, there is evidence she did research for her erotic writings in the raw: i.e., face-to-face real life. Submitting to an increasingly intense inner fire, fate brought her and the target of our investigation together at the resort during an S&M exposé a year and a half ago.

  My assessment is that Ms Jones got into a scene that was far over her head. As with the others, I did have some contact with her as did many others (yes, I am promiscuous and she was both stunning and interesting). I was not surprised when I heard she went missing about a week after our concurrent two week excursion at the resort. At my request, our group did allow me to make an informal investigation. The following is what I could piece together.

  For the previous three or four years, Carla’s erotic tales evolved from lesbian romance to heavy Mistress-slave narratives. While men were OK in and out of her stories, she definitely preferred female-on-female sex to include Dominant-submissive scenes. Of course, I went after her known lovers first, but none of them panned out.

  Carla lived with her parents, and they did and still are providing for her only child. They are as mystified by her disappearance as are her friends and lovers. The only clue that I can put down as a factor was the “fantasy vacation” at the resort. Something happened during her stay that propelled her to leave work one night after getting back and leaving town in a bus to nowhere.

  Several police agencies did get involved with the missing persons report. When the authorities began to examine her sexuality issues and the provocative nature of her writings the parents requested and got a gag order of sorts. The investigation was put on hold and eventually placed in the cold case file (that’s until our company’s intervention). My guess is that the novel writer never got to write the scene she sought to live for real.

  I know that reading these reports is in many ways hard for you. On a personal basis we are alike in having a prurient affinity for sadism’s verification through even reluctant or subconscious masochism. Of course, this is a mental evaluation as - unlike our target and his alleged victims – we know when to stop.

  Desiring you more than ever, Jack

  Wanting to scream, Angela dropped the report. Jack was not only unreliable, but he was sounding more and more like a suspect. And if she let her imagination take the lead, she could very well be his intended next victim. Tonight, she was going to needlessly submit to a horrific beating with a tough hippo hide whip without the anticipated return of drawing in the serial predator. Jack already had her in his sights and was certainly waiting for the right time to move on her. Then doubts challenged this line of thinking. Jack was fucking with Naomi when the sexual marauder was ravaging Angela.

  “Damn to double damn,” Angela moaned back to square one. All of the swinging dicks she could and could not see were back to being a possible threat. Maybe enduring tonight’s bogus punishment was the right move after all.

  For sure, David Bain had hit the nail on the head: the resort was an asylum. The only difference was the inmates were paying customers. And in the case of Naomi and Bain, it appeared the some of the staff had been co-opted by the libidos they were charged with keeping somewhat restrained. Trapped in this insane sexual bouillabaisse, Angela was reaching a point of not knowing what to think or who to be wary of.

  Shooting blind was never effective. But if she was to survive whole, offense was the basis for increasing her chances. Her impending punishment took on a new level of importance. She would live, and be better equipped to brawl in the totally weird arena represented by the resort and its incendiary premise. Being better bait was sounding more positive by the minute.

  Defiantly giving the surroundings and all who were looking her way the single digit salute, Angela said out loud, “No prisoners, ass holes.”

  Chapter 14 Preparation

  Angela shuddered with her third orgasm, her fingers doing the work of keeping her sex pulsating upon itself for almost a half minute of carnal tremors. Naomi had told her that the punishment would be done in front of a number of witnesses. Angela didn’t want to be embarrassed by any unruly orgasms during the beating. Three pre-cums should keep her cunt out of action for the duration of the punishment. Blood was the only fluid leakage she though acceptable under the circumstances. Naomi would be in charge of that aspect of the show.

  That was how Angela had begun to see the fast approaching savaging of her nether cheeks and thighs. While the thrashing was being bi
lled as a witnessed punishment, she and Naomi were really just the evening’s entertainment. Instead of a private affair, Naomi had indifferently informed her that a good number of local dignitaries would be present. An invitation had even gone out inviting local gang leaders to the event. According to Naomi, It was a way to give back to community elites, and feed the human beasts prowling the surrounding jungle.

  Evidently the punishment of a female resort patron was a big deal, and that Angela should appreciate her starring role in the occasion. Angela would have felt more grateful if she hadn’t gotten the impression that the witnessed punishment was a regularly scheduled event. And Angela was the lucky female chosen out of the resort’s feminine customers to provide this quarter’s show. She wasn’t buying any of it.

  If a bunch of local elite’s thought it was a privilege to watch a woman’s rear-end cut up with something called a sjambok, so be it. Angela needed to remain focused on the reason she was at the resort in the first place. The real prize was her target male finding her soon beaten ass and thighs irresistible. After putting him out of commission, she could relax and take several moderate pain-pleasure trips as a down payment for a job well done.

  Finally sexually drained, Angela moved to the bathroom. An enema was not a pleasure, but a necessity. By cleaning her guts out, she would foil Naomi’s stated goal of ‘beating the shit out of her’. Unseemly accidents while getting whipped were not Angela’s style. An empting pee was followed by a cold shower. The chilly water firmed up her skin into toned perfection. There wasn’t any reason not to look as sexy as possible. Naomi arrived as Angela finished primping for the evening’s main event.

  “Honey, you’ve got the best looking ass,” Naomi said her eyes full of awe, “I’ve ever had the pleasure to welt up.”

  “Does that mean I should expect permanent damage?” Angela asked twisting around to look at her flawless nether cheeks. Only faint yellowing bruises remained from the initial six introductory cane cuts.

  “If used without care, the sjambok with leave deep scaring,” Naomi answered running her hands down Angela’s naked flanks as if taking possession of them. “But I will spare you that level of cruelty…if I don’t lose control.”

  Then she laughed. “But you’ll think I have as the sjambok takes its toll on your lovely hindquarters.”

  “I understand,” Angela responded as if she did. This was crazy, and she was insane for willingly going along with Naomi’s harmful stunt. She needed to keep focused on the ultimate goal, and not get distracted by the punishment’s sexual overtones.

  “It is almost show time,” Naomi said taking several lengths of rope out of a bag. “The big wigs are arriving as we speak. They are an impatient bunch. Hands behind your back and grab the opposite elbow. That’s it. Now hold still while I tie you wrist to forearm.”

  Angela began to kick herself. She should have gone for a forth orgasm. Her adulterous sex was far from exhausted. The delicious feeling of increased vulnerability brought on by the behind-the-back bondage, the arching of her breasts into amplified prominence, the hardening of her thick pierced nipples combined to activate previously untapped sexual reserves. She should have been shivering from fear. Instead she was quivering with hormonally charged excitement. It was a battle she decided to lose.

  “How many will be watching you use the sjambok on me?” Angela asked wallowing in sensuous anticipation of the horrific, knowing the pleasurable passions sending her into minor shudders of delight would shortly be turned into a raging storm of overwhelming agony.

  “Over a hundred,” Naomi answered finishing the securing of Angela’s wrists to forearm. “Word was passed that tonight was going to be special. Now, do you want to be gagged or not?”

  “Gagged please,” Angela answered embarrassed enough, but prideful that she was drawing that big of crowd.

  Naomi produced what looked like a short but thick rubber penis attached to straps, and quickly inserted it in Angela’s open ready lips. Buckled tight behind her head, Angela found that she could still breathe with her mouth. A hole had been drilled down the length of the phallus shaped gag. Naomi completed Angela’s punishment ensemble with a black semi-transparent hood. Angela could see out, but her face was obscured from view.

  “The hood adds a little bit of mystery to the performance,” Naomi explained, “and effectively renders you to a lovely shaped anonymous piece of female meat to be carved up by the sjambok.”

  That brought fear into play, an exciting type of sexually tinted apprehension. All Angela could think of as Naomi guided her out of the room, down the hall and out into the night air was how long she could keep the sizzling orgasm bottled up inside of her. Ten strokes of the sjambok was her goal. No one would notice. After that she would just suffer and scream.

  Chapter 15 Unforgettable

  Sweet feelings of submissive rapture were rapidly replaced by alarm as Naomi directed Angela into a compact van. Upon being driven out of the resort’s walled compound, the onset of panic erased all remaining sexual overtones. Bouncing along what seemed to be little more than a jungle trail moving away from the resort and the area’s only city, Angela began to believe she was about to find out what happened to at least two of the missing women on the firm’s list of disappearances.

  With her imagination roaring with visions of primitive sacrifices to the gods, where the gods were human in form and tastes, Angela’s natural propensity to fight was triggered into life. She slammed her body against the nearest side door. The door wasn’t about to give leaving Angela hurting. She reacted by attempting to kick out at Naomi, again failing to make an impact. Worse, through the gauze like hood Angela detected that she was amusing Naomi with her antics. She didn’t see the stun gun in Naomi’s hand until it was too late.

  Strong involuntary muscle contractions and pain directed compliance were terms Angela vividly remembered from training classes where she was stunned for educational purposes. Those past experiences were child’s play compared to what Angela felt as the blue fire arcing across the two electrical probes intersected her left breast. Punched unconscious, unable to breathe, frying flesh, electrocuted senseless all happened in an instant to leave her drooling around the penis gag and trembling uncontrollably. Thankfully, Naomi thought once was enough, and as far as Angela was concerned it was.

  “Settle down honey,” Naomi said, helping Angela back into the seat. “I know what you are thinking and you are wrong. This is a two way trip for both of us.”

  With little choice but to believe Naomi and not willing to incur another shocking stun, Angela outwardly became a compliant subject. Inside, her thoughts were still in turmoil. Like the file cases she had read, Angela had allowed herself to be drawn into a dangerous, erotically cloaked predicament. Up a creek without a paddle would have been easy compared to her solo plunge into a foaming rage that had all of the trappings of a ritual public execution.

  Complicating the matter, for all she knew her back-up agent Jack Savage was in on the set-up for punishment ruse. For sure, this excursion into the night out of the resort’s compound wasn’t in the plan that Angela had signed on to. If she survived this venture, her boss Frank was back on her urgent to contact list.

  Lights and people, lots of people appeared ahead. Vehicles of every description lined the primitive dirt roadway. Excited shouts in a variety of languages hailed the arrival of the van at the center of the raucous melee. Angela knew enough street Spanish and broken French to translate most of the shouted remarks. Not quite blood thirsty, but certainly shrill with lust, the crowed was dangerous in of its self. The combination of Angela and the impending punishment were powering an elevated high of perverse expectation.

  Without comparison, the surrounding energy was at a near chaos level. Naomi’s liberal use of the stun gun and two very large male escorts got Angela from the van to a tent complex unharmed, and relatively untouched. Touching as in fondling was reserved for a welcoming party of selected elites formally dressed and drinking Cha
mpaign.

  “This cunt has to be the loveliest we’ve had yet.”

  “The moment I saw her,” Mr. Bain said, dressed in a tux, “I knew she was the one for our quarterly gathering.”

  “I’ll second that mate,” a red faced mercenary looking male said running his free hand across Angela’s nether cheeks. “This ass is perfect for cutting up.”

  “I’ll start the bidding,” said a male dressed in royal Arabic garb. “Say five hundred thousand.”

  “Six hundred thousand,” a handsome, goateed Hispanic type countered.

  “This one is not for sale,” a dazzling silver haired woman said with quiet authority. The rest of the attendees appeared uneasy, but none challenged the woman. Equally as revealing, the trafficking of human females was not unknown among the eclectic mix of elite guests.

  “I wish the beating included a flogging,” a short thick set bearded man broke the uncomfortable silence while cupping Angela’s breasts. “These tits would dance nicely under a well delivered lash.”

  “Sir,” Naomi injected with what Angela took as her feeling insulted, “I assure you that her tits will do more than dance with each impact of the sjambok.”

  “Great,” a portly gentleman said with a southern American accent. “I can hardly wait as those steel filled finger thick dark nipples are making me feel hungry.”

  “Senator,” a swarthy looking male with two bodyguards said, “Your Honor, to include everyone in this tent and shortly one hundred plus invitees will have the same craving.”