Message-ID: <19370eli$9901260428@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: Subject: Story: "Electric Ladyland"/MrSpraycan Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <78j1pv$mqn@enews3.newsguy.com> Here's something I just noticed in my 'unposted' folder, which I'd completely forgotten. Guess I thought it was some Jimi Hendrix tribute story...but, no...not quite... Written for a French lady I chatted with a long while back, who had an urge for something more extreme, thrillwise. Test your squick factor here. Contains all the regular spanking and vulgarity, too. ELECTRIC LADYLAND by MrSpraycan "Were you shocked? I'm surprised," I tell her, sipping on my coffee in the open air cafe. The waiter has delivered our breakfast with the usual French combination of swagger and groveling, checking her out, enyying me a little. She's blushing suddenly. Not her usual reaction. "Well, I don't know if that's the word, but you did surprise me. I didn't expect you to be as forceful as you were . . ." "That's what you wanted, right?" "Yes, of course, cheri. Exactly what I wanted. Don't be so polite and English, hmm? But you know that you can't always be sure that what you want is what you'll get," she smiles, blushing some more. "With me, you can." I'm surprised she's able to sit at all. I spanked and caned her ass for two hours last night. It's raw. And this morning, made her crawl round the bedroom while I took the belt to the rest of her. Lots of nasty welts, lots of hot, impassioned tears. And some fervent sucking and fucking to follow both beatings. She's stirring her coffee, eyes lowered. "Of course, there is always shocking for real; I'm sure that would get my attention . . ." "Oh, electric, you mean?" Now she's buttering a croissant, and her hands are shaking. Did she really mean it? Let's see. Her eyes flicker nervously. "Oh dear. We've quite neglected that possibility, Michelle. After all we said, too. About holding nothing back? Very remiss of us. How thoughtful of you to remind me. You'll be so pleased you did." "Well," she says hesitantly, "You did promise to use a cattle prod on me. On my pussy." She's right. And it was her idea too. "Yes. A cattle prod is always a nice way to get a lady's attention, but I think you deserve better." We pause while more coffee is poured. "Oh?" She's being coy. I enjoy it, but I won't tolerate it for long. "Yes, I need to be more forceful." "Comme toujours . . . I would like that, I think." "There's so much you can accomplish with a hand-cranked generator, and a few leads and crocodile clips. Yes, I can see from your face that something like that will be sure to 'get your attention,' Michelle." She stares at me, her face turning pale. A hawkfaced woman in her late thirties. From Alsace, living in Paris. Never married, intensely masochistic. "Oh, yes." She whispers it like a prayer. "Oh. I would love that." Her eyes are bright, fanatical. "As much as . . .?" "As much as branding me, or piercing or cutting me? Yes! And you must. I want everything." She draws a deep breath. "I won't let you down, Michelle." She's in a reverie. "My God; yes. Horrible as it sounds, but, that gets my sexual juices flowing. You know how I feel about being hurt, cheri. I am destined for such things, I know that; and I know that you are the one to administer such torments to my helpless body." I smile like a wolf. I like it when she talks in this fractured 'Story of O' English. "So, what will you do to me?" she asks, licking her lips. She takes a big greedy sip of coffee. "Shock you, darling. Well, we started with the right stuff there. The generator, some leads. Not to forget big metal dildos for your vagina and rectum." "Oh God, yes. Fat ones." "So you're really stretched, just like when I'm ramming my fist into you." She sighs with pleasure at this memory. "And I think there should be a thin wire wriggled into your piss hole, don't you? And good strong spring-loaded clamps with electrodes for your breasts, your nipples, your pussy. Even a couple on your tongue." "Beautiful. Yes, that's the way. Where would you do it? Have you thought about that?" "No. But I think a bathroom is a good place for administering this treatment. So we can make a mess, hmmm? A nice big tiled bathroom, like the one at that big old hotel outside Lille. Remember?" "Perfect. Oh, that was so cold, so clinical." "I'd drag you in there naked, with suitable restraints already in place. You know, handcuffs, a leash. Put you under an icy cold shower, wet you down thoroughly, give you a rubber gag to bite on." "Oh, this is terrible! But, so right. Please, try to arrange it. You must." "You'll need to be tied up, strapped down, thoroughly restrained. Very severe bondage. So we need something like a wooden pillory for you, don't we?" "Because I'll struggle so much?" "You won't be able to help it, when I start cranking. So, a good solid pillory. I'll see if I can get my atelier at the vineyard to produce one. A folding thing we can take places in the trunk of your car. Something that'll be mistaken for some artist's junk." A clothing designer, she drives a Mercedes. She is freakish, but rich too. "This is so nasty," she says, eating hungrily. She eats constantly, yet she's painfully thin. Hyperactivity. Smokes like a chimney, too. Wiry, strong. "It's going to be torture." "Yes, it is. And you like that word, so much. I've seen the way you masturbate harder when you hear it. So, I'll have to vary the places that are shocked, work you over carefully, seeing what produces the best convulsions and reactions. It'll be interesting to make you piss involuntarily." She smiles. She often does anyway. I see her hand emerge from under her skirt. I grab her wrist, sniff her fingers. Very cunty. She smiles sexily. "You're making me so wet." "As I often do, eh? I hope you have a change of clothes? Cos you'll be sitting in a big messy puddle soon, inhaling the vapor and saying 'thank you.'" "Beast." "Right. But you won't be smiling when we get started on shocking you, my dear. Not at all." "I can't wait. I mean it." "See how you feel when you are strapped and clamped and bolted into the pillory, hmm? With your pudendum thrust forward, your thighs spread wide so your pussy is easily worked on. You'll have been shaved by then, to make it easy to apply the clips and other devices with precision." She smiles. She wants to be shaved and waxed, and she will be. I've made an appointment for her next week with some people I know. "You're a pervert so you'll relish the pain and discomfort of the insertion of the electrode in your urethra, a small hollow metal catheter. Like a drinking straw. A nurse would probably give you something to numb you down there, but I won't! You'll appreciate the small, powerful clips on your clitoris, and all around its hood. Everything will be taped or glued in place so you can't shake it free as you thrash around." "Oh, it is torture, true torture." Her eyes are bright. "Please, cheri? You promise?" "Yes. You'll soon be soaked in sweat, ashen with fear. I'll have to wet you down regularly with a bucket or a hose. Nice cold water, so you're shivering. So we get the best possible connections. Just imagine what it'll be like." "I'm trying." "There'll be little blue flashes and crackles, sparks. Puffs of smoke or steam coming from you each time you're jolted. We'll focus on your tits, your cunt and your pussy lips and clit before too long. There are so many ways to shock you, but, we'll have time. I'm sure we'll try them all. So painful, so frightening. You'll be bursting to scream, but you won't be allowed to, not for a long while. Until I'm ready to hear your filthiest confessions, and what you've been holding back. There will be nasty burns and ugly blisters. How could that be avoided? Why would you want to be spared them, slave? It's torture you asked for, isn't it?" She sighs. "Yes, torture. To be applied without regard to the after-effects. Please? Don't worry about hurting me or marking me. Most of the damage will disappear with time; I suspect! Oh, yes!" Crazy, but appealing, even with croissant crumbs in her teeth and butter on her chin. I bore on. She has a hand under her skirt, and she's lit a cigarette. She stares raptly into my eyes. "So many combinations to choose from, it will take hours. Finding the best is the key. Sudden shocks, slow build-ups, a random series of jolts. Who knows, hmm? It'll be a cruel, inhuman "scientific" punishment . . ." "For a woman who deserves to suffer all the torments that can be inflicted on a victim. Yes, you must," she sighs, blowing a huge cloud of smoke. "And when we've found the 'best', with your help? Then we'll keep going, focusing on those techniques. You'll faint, repeatedly. It's inevitable. But each time you revive, it will begin again. Without mercy." "Please. You must." "I'm doing all the talking as usual . . ." "Well, I don't know . . . uh, I would think that a random selection of all the dirty little ways the electricity can be administered would do the trick; not knowing where and how intense the next one would be would be almost as bad as the shocks themselves. No?" "I think so. And?" "Well, the waiting, the anticipation, the expectancy; then the horrible flash. Imagine. Again and again, destroying nerves, tormenting me . . . Oh. Ever and ever again. Without mercy; only pain, thrust after thrust of agonizing sparks of electricity, my destiny, my need, my everything . . ." She's in a reverie. I can smell her pussy, even outdoors like this. She's about to come. "Yes, that's how nasty it'll be. Oh we'll be careful not to destroy nerves, or injure you too much. It's important to do it so I make you hypersensitive to stimuli, make you relish the pain, regret the horrible consequences of your foolishness. But there'll be blisters, there'll be pain. There'll be horrible humiliations as you piss yourself, as you weep and beg for mercy." "I can't wait. I am your painslut, believe me. I can't wait." Copyright (C) 1997, 1999 by MrSpraycan. All Rights Reserved. Read erotica by MrSpraycan and other fine authors on the Erotica_2000 listserv. Daily deliveries! Just send e-mail to: Erotica_2000-subscribe@onelist.com - and say "Subscribe" in the subject line. OR: if you're webby in nature, go to: http://www.onelist.com/subscribe.cgi/Erotica_2000 and sign up. ** new writers always welcome ** MrSpraycan's homepage: http://spraycan.sinewave.com [ Via MailAnon Remail Service ] -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----