Diary of a Pain Slut Week 03

The remainder of the session was a mixture of paddle, cane and whip. A lot of my screams after that were fake for the audience, except the screams when I orgasmed. I had three very nice orgasms before the timer clicked down to zero. They weren't mind shattering or anything like that, but there is no such thing as a bad orgasm... Well, I guess if you are tied down and forced into your twenty-something orgasm it might be a little bad, but other than something like that, there is no such thing as a bad orgasm.

When the timer clicked down to zero, the restraints automatically released. As I squirmed my way out of the spanking bench, I could hear the automated voices reminding people to be back next week and telling them the advantages of a yearly membership which allowed them to view any recorded session on the site 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year.

After my legs got steady, I walked over and stood in front of Mom. She was rocking herself down so that she was rubbing her clit against the magic wand and she was grunting with each rock of her hips.

She looked at me with wild eyes. She was trying to say something, but nothing was understandable with the ball gag.

"Do you need to cum?" I asked.

She nodded her head, or at least tried to, and grunted out something that sounded like "Yes, yes, YES!"

I walked over to the control box and turned it up to maximum and then walked back to take a shower.

When I came back out, Mom was motionless in the chair. Her eyes were glazed. She was moaning softly around the ball gag. I slowly turned the vibrator down to zero and stood there and waited. After a few moments, she took a deep breath and then looked up at me.

I reached down and moved Camera 9 out of the way. Then I pulled the microphone stand holding the vibrator out away from her legs. Even though it was off, she whimpered slightly when the vibrator lost contact with her clit. Then I started undoing the straps.

I undid the straps in the same order that I had tied them in place, starting with the ones on her ankles. She did not move at all as I released her arms and legs. The last thing I removed was the ball gag.

"What did you do to me?" she asked in a deep and throaty voice.

"What you wanted?" I answered. "I think."

She didn't answer, but her head nodded slowly up and down answering both my question and hers.

I told her to go take a shower while I finished shutting down the rest of the studio and then we would go back up to the house and talk.

About twenty minutes later we were sitting in the living room in our robes with a glass of wine in our hands. "So," Mom began, "how was it for you?"

I laughed. She sounded like an insecure young man checking on how he performed in bed. "I was nervous that you were watching me," I answered. "It's kind of hard to have your mom watching you as you climb your way to a pain orgasm."

"It didn't look like it was pleasurable at first," she said.

I took a sip of wine and answered, "No, it wasn't. But sometimes pain is the price you pay to get to the point where you can enjoy the sensations."

She raised her eyebrows as if she had a question, and I explained. "If you want to get the most pleasure out of a pain experience, you start sort of slow. A warm up spanking or something like that. Then once it starts to hurt, your body begins to react and your E buddies start showing up."

"E buddies?" She asked.

"Endorphins," I replied. "Everybody produces endorphins. For some people, pain, especially pain that the body knows is not life-threatening, will cause your body to flood endorphins into your system. It prepares you for more pain almost like your cunt juices prepare you for intercourse."

Both Mom and I paused for large sips of wine. "If your cunt flows juices down your legs when you just think about sex, you are probably a slut. If your brain and pituitary gland dump tons of endorphins into your body in response to pain, you are probably a long distance runner or other athlete that really abuses their body. If your body does both, well, that's you and me. Then, you have the makings of a pain slut."

"So God did make us this way," Mom said with a laugh.

"God just laid out the wiring." I said, "We decide wether or not to switch on the system. You keep the switch turned off most of the time. I keep the lights burning 'most every night."

"If I didn't know how hard it is to keep the lights off," Mom answered, "I would tell you to just learn how to control yourself. But I know how hard that is. All I could think of as I was strapped in watching you was that if you gave me an opportunity to do so, I would strap myself into that spanking bench with the whole world watching. I would even do it without a mask if that was the only way."

"Are you sure you would do that?" I asked. "Wouldn't that destroy what you and Dad have?"

"I didn't say I would do it," she answered, "I said that's all I could think of." Then she turned very red. "No, that wasn't all I could think of. That damn vibrator pushed up against my twat was driving me wild and I couldn't believe that I was dripping on the floor with a camera focused right between my legs."

She looked at me and said hoarsely, "It was so humiliating, but at the same time, it caused me to flood even more as I thought about all the people who were watching me rub my clit against the head of the vibrator."

"That's why I did it," I said softly. "Now you know that humiliation can turn you on. You don't have to go out and experiment to find out."

"Is that what you were doing when you went down to The Grease Pit?" she asked.

I drained my glass and answered, "That was the general idea, but Brad was late and I got stoned out of my mind on bourbon and cokes. I was so wasted that they didn't even recognize that it was me. I didn't want you to do something that stupid."

"Did you think I would do something like that?"

"I hoped not," I answered, "but I know how strong these urges are. I don't do the Beat Girl thing for the money. I do it because it keeps me from doing something far more stupid and dangerous."

She drained her glass and said, "I think we both need a refill and then we need to go to bed."

She took my empty glass with her into the kitchen and came back a few moments later with both glasses refilled. From that point on we talked about school and her job and a little about how she has to work at it to get Dad interested in sex.

My glass was almost empty and hers was down to her last sip when she suddenly became very serious. She drained the glass and set it down on the coffee table. "I think we found out a lot about each other tonight," she said, "and also about ourselves.

"You are a pain slut. So am I. But I have a wonderful husband and a marvelous life. I choose to keep what I call the beast caged. Watching your sessions on a computer is like going to the zoo to visit the beast. I can handle that. But being there, that is going out into the wild and letting the beasts roam free. I can never do that again. Don't invite me, and if I ask, don't let me."

"I don't know where I go from here," I replied. "I can't cage the beast. I can only tame it or find someone or someplace or something that can control it. For now, that is Beat Girl. But I don't know what it will be in the future."

We hugged each other and went to bed. Both of our robes had fallen open and when we hugged our naked bodies pressed tightly against each other. It felt really weird, but there was nothing sexual about it. In fact, it felt like we were acknowledging that there was no longer anything between us and we would support each other from now on... not only as mother and daughter, but as sister pain sluts.

End of entry for Day Twelve

Maddi's Diary, Day Thirteen, Wednesday

I hate having to get out of bed early on Wednesday morning just to go down to the hospital and meet with Dr. B. Sorry, Dr. B, but that's how I feel.

I started to tell him about last night, but he cut me off with "I will read about that Sunday night. I don't need to know what happened. What I need to know now is where what happened has brought you. What is the most important thing on your mind right now?"

"Where do I go from here?" I answered. "I'm a pain slut. I don't know whether or not I can ever change that, but I am pretty sure that I don't WANT to change that. So, where DO I go from here?"

Dr. B put his fingertips together and looked at me across his desk. I haven't been to a lot of therapists, but I know that when they put their fingertips together, they are about to say something that they think is really significant.

"When I do marital counseling," he began, "one of the first things that I have to clarify is whether I am doing marriage counseling or divorce counseling. Obviously they are not the same thing. The most important thing that we needed to clarify is whether we are doing lifestyle change counseling or life direction counseling."

He stood up and walked around the desk. That is also not a good sign from a therapist. He sat on the desk facing me. "You are not a crazy mixed up kid. You have things figured out pretty well. You have the classic underlying physiology of ... a pain slut. I could use the technical term, but let's call it what it is. And you are more or less comfortable with being a pain slut."

I looked at him in shock and surprise. I couldn't believe he was telling me this.

"You are not nuts," he said with a smile. "You are just at a point in your life where you have to figure out how to live out what you are as a safe and productive member of society."

He laughed slightly. "Everybody is nuts in one way or another. A lot of people become therapists because they have significant emotional or mental issues. People become scientists because they are obsessed with facts and figures. The question is what does a person who is sexually turned on by pain become?"

"What?" I asked.

He laughed again. "That is for you to figure out. Therapists ask questions. Patients answer them."

Dr. B can be so frustrating.

Nothing much happened the rest of the day except I couldn't get that question out of my mind. "What DOES a person who is sexually turned on by pain become that will make her a safe and productive member of society."

End of entry for Day Thirteen

Maddi's Diary, Day Fourteen, Thursday

Today was an absolutely normal day. By that I mean that I got up, ate breakfast, went to work, came home and watched television until I went to bed. Mom and I talked a little, but it was primarily about whether or not I was still sore and how my bruises were healing.

I pulled down my pants and panties and showed her my ass. The bruises already had that yellowish color that indicates they are healing. I heal very fast. By Saturday night, they will be mostly gone and by Monday my ass will be totally clear except for a couple of lines from the cane. Bruises from the cane must go deeper because they always take longer to heal.

While we were talking, Dad called. He must have asked Mom what she had been doing or something like that because she turned very red and said, "Oh, I've been keeping busy."

After that she got up and walked into the other room. As she was leaving, I could hear her say, "You'd better eat some oysters or something, honey, because I am really missing you. While Maddi is at work Saturday morning, you and I are going to spend some serious loving time in bed."

I couldn't hear what she was saying after that, but it would appear that Dad was going to have to feed the caged beast, even if it didn't exactly get the diet it wanted.

End of entry for Day Fourteen

Maddi's Diary, Day Fifteen, Friday

It's kind of late while I am writing this. Friday is normally an afternoon-evening shift at work, so I was there until close. Shirley and Vicki came in well after the dinner rush had passed. They sat in a corner booth in my area and ate onion rings and sipped on Cokes. As long as everyone gets waited on like they are supposed to and the table tops get cleaned and set, the manager doesn't mind if I talk to friends occasionally.

Things get pretty dead around nine and by nine-thirty they were the only customers in the place. When it is that dead, normally the manager would send me home early, but instead she said, "Why don't you just clock out and sit and talk with your friends."

I did.

Vicki kept looking over at Shirley with a silly grin on her face. Finally she said, "Are you going to ask her, or am I?"

Shirley looked embarrassed, which is very unusual for her since she always seems to be so much in control. After a few moments of silence, Vicki said, "Maddi, you told us you were a little weird. I'm a little weird, too, but I'm not really into pain. It's more like... well, I like someone telling me what to do, or maybe being unable to do anything while they do whatever they want."

I smirked at her. "It's always the quiet ones who surprise you," I said, reflecting Shirley's words from last week. Leaning in slightly and speaking quietly so we wouldn't be overheard, I continued, "So, I'm a pain slut and you are a bondage slut." Turning to Shirley, I asked, "What does that make you?"

Shirley's whole face and body suddenly changed. She was sitting up straight and her eyes were wider. She wasn't open-eyed like in surprise. Her eyebrows were in normal position, but somehow her eyes were bigger and more intense. She looked at me... or into me... or through me, it was the most intense look I had ever experienced. Then she said in a very quiet voice that sounded as solid as steel, "A Dom."

Now my eyes were open, and so was my mouth. I looked back and forth between my two best friends. How had we kept all of this from each other all of these years? I knew that Shirl and Vic were normally much wilder than me in public, but why did they never tell me about this side of them?

Oh! They kept it from me because they thought I was little Miss Goodie Two-shoes! I got caught naked in public and now they feel safe telling me.

Oh! again. I pointed my finger at Shirley, "You're a Dom." Then I pointed my finger at Vicki, "You're a sub." I looked back and forth between them, "Do you two ever..."

"We've played once or twice," Shirley said quietly, "but she prefers men."

"And Shirley," said Vicki, "prefers girls." She took a deep breath, "Which brings us to the question of the evening."

"Yes?" I said.

"Someone," began Vicki, looking over at Shirley, "prides herself on having perfect gaydar. She says that she has never been wrong."

"So?" I asked, not sure of where this was leading.

"I've had a crush on you since seventh grade," Shirley said quietly. "I've never doubted my gaydar, but my subdar isn't quite so good. I didn't want to pull you into a kind of relationship that you didn't want, so I have never said anything."

"She didn't realize you were a kinky match for her," said Vicki. "Her subdar was wrong, but I think her gaydar is just as wrong, too."

Vicki looked at me smugly, "There's a bet riding on this. Which of us is right?"

Oh! a third time. They were asking me if I was a lesbian. "I've been with women a couple of times," I said, "but it was sort of accidental after too much to drink and no men available."

"But did it get you off?" asked Vicki.

"So did the men," I answered.

"So which do you prefer?" Vicki pressed.

"Pain," I answered.

"What?" said Vicki, trying to hide her surprise.

"You asked what I preferred," I said. "What gets me off the best is pain, but I haven't really checked to see if it's different if it's from a man or woman."

"OK," said Vicki. "Let's try this a different way. Who did you have your first crush on and do you still have that crush?"

I sat there and stared at her while I turned redder... and redder... and redder... and redder.

"I don't get it," she said. "You didn't have any real trouble telling us that you are a pain slut, but you can't bring yourself to say who your first crush was."

I kept looking at her and turning redder and glancing over at Shirley. Suddenly Vicki looked over at Shirley and then back at me and then back at Shirley and then back at me.

"For how long?" Vicki said. There was surprise in her voice and on her face.

"Forever, I think," I answered. "For sure since sometime in the eighth grade. At least that's when I figured out it was a crush and not just wanting to be really good friends."

"Holy shit!" Vicki said, still looking back and forth between us. "And neither of you said anything to the other?"

"What was I supposed to say?" I asked. "Shirley, there is nothing more in the world I would like than to be your wife?... or lover?, or slave?, or whatever? I thought it was just screwed up adolescent thinking caused by screwed up adolescent hormones."

"And what do you think now?" Asked Shirley. There was something in her voice I had never heard before. Was it love?... compassion?... hope?

"I'm not sure," I answered. "I still would love to be your wife or lover or slave or whatever, but right now my mind is so screwed up that I'm not sure what I really want."

I tried to keep from crying as I looked into her eyes and asked, "What do you want?'

"I want you to be happy," she replied. Her eyes were filled with tears, but unlike me, they were not spilling down her face. "If you being happy means you marrying some guy some day, That's what will be, and I won't interfere because I love you. If you being happy means you being with me as whatever, then we will both be happy because I have loved you since I first knew what love was."

"Double Holy Shit!" said Vicki as she slumped her shoulders and looked over at Shirley. "I guess you've won... twice. She is gay and she loves you. And I've lost our bet."

"What was the bet?" I asked.

Vicki didn't answer, but instead looked over to Shirley who said with a smile. "The loser is the winner's slave for a night and as part of the events of that night the loser gets displayed naked and played with and forced to orgasm in public."

"Wow!" was all I could say. "And I thought I was kinky."

"Shirley is a member of a rather discreet little club in the city," said Vicki. "Actually, her dad's on the board of directors. She has taken me there a couple of times as a guest and has let some of the guys play with me a little. But this would be the first time on stage for either of us. I sort of imagined it being me in some sort of sexy catsuit and her tied up and squirming."

"Never bet against a sure thing," Shirley said. Her voice sounded very mature and authoritative. I could suddenly see her in a skin tight black catsuit slamming a paddle into my ass.

"Are you OK?" Vicki suddenly asked me. "You look... excited."

"It's almost closing time," I answered, dodging the question. "Mom will be expecting me home. Why don't we plan on going out together tomorrow night. We can talk about this a little more then. Besides, I really have to think about all this for a while."

"OK," said Shirley. "Eight O'clock tomorrow night at Juan Carlos'. We'll grab something to eat and then go out dive hopping." She looked over at me, "That is, if you're allowed to do that now."

"Dr. B said it's OK," I replied, "and Dad will trust me if I am out with you two. But I can't risk driving if I'm not totally sober. The slightest police thing could get me sent to the state facility for thirty days."

"Boy," Vicki said, "they really have you by the short hairs."

"Don't have any," I replied with a big grin.

"I'll pick you up at your place around 7:30," said Shirley. "Just look for a red Ford F150 with a matching bed cap. OK?"

I said "OK."

So, that's what we are planning to do tomorrow night. I'm going to close this out and go to bed.

CRAP! I can't go to bed yet! I forgot to say anything about group again. I should probably go back and put this in before what I had to say about Shirley and Vicki coming into the restaurant, but Dr. B was emphatic when he told me how to do this and he insisted that there was to be NO EDITING! I'm just supposed to let it flow out of my fingertips onto the keyboard.