WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.

If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2009 by The Technician [email protected].

Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.

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Two of the serving slaves were brought forward by the simple process of the rail system dragging them forward by their hair. One, a male, was positioned in front of a pillory-like device. The other, a woman, was positioned a few feet behind him. The pillory had the typical half circle for the hands and head, but there was no upper piece that clamped the arms and head in place. Instead there were two metal rods, somewhat like bicycle handles that were positioned so that the slave could grasp them with his hands. He placed his head and hands in the stocks and grasped the handles. When he did so, a green light came on within the column of the pillory.

A large clock face descended from the darkness of the ceiling area as the voice from the speaker explained. “Slave 142, as the slave who has gone the longest without punishment, has won the right to be first punisher. She will have 30 seconds to deliver five swats. They must not be less that 7 or more than 10 on SaM’s Place Scale of Punishment. Swats cannot be delivered less than 4 seconds apart nor more than 6 seconds. Failure to deliver the punishment within the prescribed range means that the punisher goes to the end of the line, something none of these slaves wants to do, especially Slave 142, since her position keeps her our of the stocks tonight..”

Evelyn wondered exactly what SaM’s Place Scale of Punishment was, but then a second disk descended from the ceiling. It resembled the tachometer in Evelyn’s car, except it went from zero to two hundred. The female slave picked up a paddle that looked like many other spanking paddles except that it had a small cord leading out of the tip of the handle. She swung the paddle and it connected with the male slave’s ass with a resounding smack. The punishment meter read twelve and the announcer exclaimed, “Oh, that is outside the specified range. Slave 142 can have only two of the five outside the range or she goes to the end of the line.”

It was not apparent whether the slave could hear the announcer or not, but she delivered four more swats with the paddle with a measured pace. The meter read 9 for each of them. “A nice recovery,” came the voice from the speakers. “All within range and all within time. Our increment for tonight is 2, so the range is now 9 to 12.” As the voice spoke, the male slave left the pillory and took the place of the female slave who had been the punisher. She was led off into the darkness and another female slave, a black female, was brought up to the stocks. Once she had grasped the metal rods, the green light came on the male slave swung the paddle.

Evelyn watched the black globes of the slave’s ass compress and bounce with each slam of the paddle. “A pity that redness doesn’t show on such black skin,” she said quietly to herself. Two of the swats registered 12, one registered 9 and the other two registered 11.

“Not very consistent,” commented the voice from the speakers, “but all within range. The range is now 11 to 14.”

The male slave was led off and another female slave was brought up to the stocks. The black slave was guided into place as the punisher. Smack…. smack…. smack…. smack…. smack…. Each of the five times, the meter read 14.

“Now that is proper paddling,” the announcer said, “Number 287 really knows how to use that paddle.”

Evelyn watched closely as the black slave turned and was led into the darkness. She looked so familiar to her. Almost like someone she knew from her college days, but she couldn’t place the face…, and why would she know a slave?

The cycle continued with slave after slave, each taking their place on the pillory and then as punisher as the required punishment number climbed higher and higher. Almost all of the slaves had cycled through and the punishment range had reached 93 through 96 when on the third blow of the paddle, the slave at the pillory let go of the rods and jerked into a standing position. The green light on the pillory post turned red and a siren sounded. “We have a position fault. Those of you in the position fault pool please hold your cards. This is slave 381 on strike three at an punishment level of 95. If anyone has that combination in the pool, please push your server call button at this time.”

There was silence for a few minutes and then the voice from the speakers continued. “It appears no one had the winning combination, but we are all still winners as we watch the special punishment for any slave audacious enough to move from the punishment position. If slave 203 will temporarily step out of the way, a couple of masters will handle this punishment.”

With that the rail mechanism moved the slave with the paddle a few feet backwards. A hooded man and woman, both dressed in tight fitting leather shorts stepped into the spotlight. She took the paddle while he moved over to the pillory. The slave bent over the pillory was whimpering and loudly begging, “No, no, it was an accident. I will never do it again. Please, don’t do this to me!”

The master held the slave’s arm down on the pillory and there was a loud click. A manacle of some sort had slid out of the pillory and firmly held the slave’s arms in place. This was repeated with the other arm and the neck so that the slave was held firmly in place. Then the master took two lengths of leather and wrapped them around the slave’s hands so that they were bound to the metal rods.

“All is in place,” he announced as he stepped away from the pillory. “Roll the dice.”

A small cage descended from the ceiling. It contained a pair of dice. The cage turned over once and the dice rolled into a three and a two.

The announcer from the speakers again spoke. “We have a electro-punishment number of five. That is survivable, but it is going to hurt.”

The female master swung the paddle. Her stroke was firm and solid, but unlike most paddle strikes, she paused the paddle against the slave’s ass when she delivered the blow. He screamed as the paddle hit, but then continued to scream and shake as a measured amount of electricity flowed through the paddle into his body.

“One,” the female master said just loud enough for the crowd to hear. She repeated her actions nine more times. After she said “Ten,” she walked over to where the punisher was standing and handed the paddle back to the punishment slave. “I believe you have two more swats to deliver. The range is 93 through 96.

The blows were delivered quickly and the punished slave took her place as punisher. Three more slaves repeated the process until Gloria, #157, Evelyn’s waitress was brought forward. She took her position on the pillory, and with a loud click, the manacles locked into place.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, your servers will be returning to you shortly. As soon as each one of them has had the opportunity to express their anger at this worthless slave who caused all this by her unacceptable behavior, they will be directed back to your tables for your every whim. This is open range paddling with any degree of strike allowed. The electro-punishment is set on random. It may or may not engage on any given swing. Slaves, you have five swings each. Make good use of them.”

With that, the slaves were lined up behind the punisher who was now holding the paddle. They were in the same order as when they, themselves, had occupied the pillory. The first began to strike out with the paddle. On the fourth swing, #157 screamed loudly and thrashed against the restraints. Evidently the random electro-punishment had kicked in for that swing.

Evelyn sipped her drink and savored #157’s screams of pain. Yes, indeed, SaM’s Place was her kind of place. Eventually all of the slaves had their chance to vent their anger on Gloria’s ass. The lights up front dimmed slightly and the room lights returned to normal. Then the soft background music began once again and Gloria was suddenly returned to the table. She was obviously shaken by the punishment and trembled slightly as she stood before Evelyn. “What may your humble slave do for my exalted Mistress?” she asked.

“You can complete my order for dinner, you stupid cow,” replied Evelyn.

Gloria’s face went blank with an expression that was somewhere between pain and surprise. “Please forgive your useless slave, my Mistress, but would you please repeat your order for me so that I may properly get it from the kitchen.”

Evelyn curled her lip in a sneer, “Do you mean that you have forgotten it? Do you expect me to believe that those little slaps on your worthless fat ass have caused you to forget the wishes of a Mistress?” With that Evelyn poised her hand above the rating box ready to once again punch the “Not Acceptable” button.

#157 suddenly knelt on the floor with her head bowed. “Please, please, please, Mistress. Do not rate me unacceptable. If you do so I will be punished severely. I don’t know if I could stand it. I will do anything for you if you just give me one more chance with your order.”

Evelyn laughed softly and said, “Slave, there is nothing that you could possibly do for me,” and she pushed the button.

#157 was quickly pulled to her feet. She began whimpering, “No, no, no, no, no” and struggled to pull back as the track mechanism slowly moved her back to the front of the room.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the announcer’s voice began, “we have a demotion punishment this evening. A server slave has performed so badly that it will be punished for the rest of the evening and then demoted to a kitchen slave until it can demonstrate that it can properly perform it’s duties for it Masters and Mistresses.”

As #157 reached the front of the room, she was met by the hooded Master and Mistress and again locked into the stock, only this time there was to be no paddling. Once Gloria’s hands and feet were secured to the metal braces, she was blindfolded and what little clothing she was wearing was cut from her. Her hair was released from the track mechanism and it rolled away into the darkness. Then a long pole was fitted in place between her legs. It was adjustable and was lengthened to penetrate her cunt about 6 inches. A metal butt plug was also inserted in her ass. Wires led from the plug to a connection at the base of the stocks. Nipple clamps came next. They, too, had wires leading to the base of the stock and also had small bells which dangled from them. The final item strapped in place was a penis gag, also metal, also with wires leading from it to the base of the stocks.

As the hooded Master and Mistress stepped away from the bound slave, #157 began to twitch and thrash as severe electric shocks began to flow through her bound body. As her breasts bounced with the shocks, the sound of the bells hanging from them could be heard throughout the club. The announcer’s voice returned, “Let all server slaves hear these bells and know that proper service is rewarded, but failure to perform is punished severely.”

Evelyn breathed deeply, nearly at the point of orgasm as she watched the slave’s electrical torture. Suddenly a familiar voice spoke softly, “Enjoying yourself, Evelyn?” Sam was beside her at the table. “It’s time for your interview to see if you can become a permanent part of SaM’s Place.

Evelyn tried to form a question, but all conversation was cut off as the area on which the table was located rotated and the table, itself, slid silently into the wall. As the table rotated, Evelyn thought she could see herself in the mirrored wall looking calm and serene, exactly the way a master or mistress should look in any situation, but then she realized that it was not her in the mirror, it was a second, identical table with someone dressed identically to her rotating into the place where she had been.

When the table stopped, Evelyn found that she was in a hallway behind the wall in the club where she had been sitting. The secrecy of SaM’s place was impressive. She was ready to go to her interview, but for all that anyone knew, she was still sitting in the club watching #157 kick and twitch as she received her punishment.

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END CHAPTER FOUR OF FIFTEEN
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