This six chapter adventure for W began when a mysterious painted lady emerged from the lake at his retirement home. This second chapter has W judging contests at the Decennial Competition of Masters and Slaves of the Greater East Coast BDSM Association. This first contest is between WhipMaster Arnold, WhipMaster Wu, WhipMistress Sierra, and WhipMaster Amani.
I know that I said this was a five chapter adventure in my first post but that is what I get for violating one of my cardinal rules and beginning to post before I had completely finished the story. There will be six chapters and I will be posting approximately one per week.
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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.
All characters involved in sexual activity in this story are over the age of 18. If you are under the age of 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) 2026 by The Technician.
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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Chapter Two - Whipmaster Wu
GrandMaster Karl Davidson was going to be Master of Ceremonies tonight. That wasn’t required by his position, but the reality is that powerful Masters and Mistresses often have delicate egos and would see great treachery in minor verbal faux pas. Thus someone with the diplomatic skills of the GrandMaster needed to make all of the introductions, explanations, and of course, the declaration of the winners. That was going to be even more important tonight since one of the four Whipmasters competing was actually a Whipmistress.
“Our first contest,” GrandMaster Karl said loudly. Actually he spoke in just slightly louder than a normal voice, but with his perfect projection... and a lapel microphone connected to the sound system... his voice boomed through the venue.
“Our first contest,” he said, “is a competition of Whipmasters and Whipmistresses. Let me introduce to you Master Arnold, Master Wu, Mistress Sierra, and Master Amani.”
The four walked into the center of the arena. All four were holding a large bullwhip in each hand and were snapping them loudly above their heads, in front of themselves, and even behind themselves. As the spotlights followed them in, I caught a glimpse of Boris sitting rather stiffly at one of the front tables in the full black tie of a Master. Kneeling beside him was Natasha. She was now totally naked like any good slave should be at this assembly. Anyone who actually looked at her, however, would know immediately that she was not a slave, but then again many powerful women... and men... enjoy a night of submission once in a while. I could see that she was as still as a statue and totally devoid of any facial expression. Having worked with her, I knew immediately that blankness meant she was in her most dangerous predator/killer mode. Someone was going to die tonight. Hopefully it wouldn’t be me, Boris, or Natasha.
Grandmaster Karl interrupted my thoughts. “The first test of skill,” he said loudly, “is the egg cut.” He chuckled and held his hand out slightly from his body as if holding an egg. “Normally this would be done outside in a sand arena and real eggs would be used.” He paused to look at the floor and then continued, “But that would get unbelievable messy in here so our specialists have prepared eggshells from which the eggs have been removed and into which a special foam of the proper weight and densisty has been injected. The eggs will crack open... or even be cut in half... but we can quickly clear up the mess when we are finished.”
While he was speaking the four Whipmasters positioned themselves around a large circle facing inward. They were all slowly moving the whips which they held in each hand. Four strange machines which looked like modified tennis practice machines were set between them. The people setting up the machine carefully aimed them so that they were pointed across the circle at one of the Whipmasters.
“This simple competition,” Grandmaster Karl explained, “is merely to set the order of presentation for the more advanced skills of the Whipmasters. The one who cuts the most eggs in sixty seconds is the winner.”
He turned towards the judges’ table and added, “And judges, you need not try to keep track of who cuts what. The eggs are color coded so they can be counted up afterwards.” I was relieved because I had no idea how I could possibly keep track of four egg cannons firing continuously for sixty seconds.
I sat back to watch. GrandMaster Karl yelled out, “Ready... set... begin!” and suddenly the air within the circle was filled with eggs. They were all white, but I could see within the blur of eggs that each one had a thin band of color around it and all of the eggs from the same canon had the same color. The sound within the venue was almost like a war zone with the continous “Whump, whump,” of the air canons and a sound like machine guns firing as eight whips snapped almost continuously. Thankfully, the minute went by very quickly. The silence which followed was almost deafening.
After a moment where everyone composed themselves, GrandMaster Karl called out, “Scavengers forward!” and a dozen or more naked female slaves ran into the circle and began picking up any intact egg. One slave carried an egg over to the GrandMaster who declared, “Cracked but not split. But it still counts.” The slave dropped the egg back onto the ground as she returned to the circle.
After the slaves were finished, GrandMaster Karl himself walked into the circle and carefully inspected the carnage. He stopped and pointed down at one egg which was at his feet. A slave quickly ran into the circle and lifted the egg for his inspection. He nodded and then declared, “The whole eggs have been collected.”
The slaves had quickly sorted the eggs by colored stripe into four wire baskets that looked like ball buckets from a driving range. A total of 180 eggs had been fired from the canons for each WhipMaster. The winner was green stripes with only sixteen eggs in their basket. The loser was blue with twenty-one eggs. Red had twenty and black had eighteen. I was impressed. The WhipMaster who had done the worst still hit 88% of the eggs. The winner struck 91%. These four were very closely matched in basic skills. The judges– including me– were probably going to have to *********** the best based on the presentation and style of his– or her– performance.
“The order of presentation has been set,” GrandMaster Karl called out. It will be Master Wu, Mistress Sierra, Master Amani, and then Master Arnold.”
As soon as he finished speaking a bevy of naked female slaves ran out carrying small paper bags. They dropped onto their knees and began picking up egg shells and pieces of foam. Within a few minutes there was nothing left on the ground but minuscule pieces of shell and foam. That’s when the sound of several strong vacuums assailed my ears. Three men and two women wearing gray coveralls walked out with backpack vacuums strapped to their backs. Three had very loud beater bar type pickups while the other two had detail nozzles on the end of their pickup wands.
I immediately triggered the mic pinned to my left lapel. “Penetration, penetration,” I said softly. “There are only supposed to be four with vacuums, and only one with a detailing wand. Watch both of them and note any inconsistences.” A curt voice in my ear said, “Received.”
I couldn’t see anything untoward from the judges table, but the full coverage security cameras in the ceiling lights would record everything that happened. It may have been nothing, but I didn’t get to retirement ignoring things that didn’t seem quite right. A good friend of mine once said, “Everyone worries about the big guns, but it is the little things which will get you.” He is the same friend who developed the various active serums for my needle guns, so he would know what he was talking about.
The computer in front of me beeped slightly and a screen appeared which said, “Evaluation of Whipmaster Contestant One, Master Wu.”
GrandMaster Karl returned to the spotlight and looked around the room. Evidently someone cued him through his earpiece because he nodded and then called out, “I present to you, Master Wu!”
Master Wu had changed outfits while the eggs were being counted and the debris cleaned up. He was now wearing a white leather outfit with loose fittings pant legs and sleeves. The back of the legs and the bottom of the arms had small leather string-like tags which ran along the entire seam. They swayed as he walked and created the feeling of fluidity to his movements. Once he was in place he raised both of his whips above his head and slashed them forward. When he whipped them back, it created the loud, sonic boom, crack of the tips of the whip breaking the sound barrier.
In response to the double crack, eight naked young women came scurrying into the center of the venue. They were each carrying a tall lampstand upon which sat a single candle about three or four centimeters thick and at least a half-meter tall. They carefully set the candles down in a large circle that completely surrounded Master Wu. Then each of them removed a small lighter that was somehow attached to the side of the candlestand and lit the candle.
Music started to play. It was a waltz tune based on “The Viennese Waltz”. Most people today have never danced to a waltz, but almost everyone vaguely recognizes the “da da da da, pomp pomp, pomp pomp, da da da da, pomp pomp, pomp pomp” rhythm of that tune.
With each “pomp pomp” Master Wu slashed his whips out at the candles in the circle. A confused silence fell over the crowd. None of the candles was being put out. The loud slashing of the whips continued. I counted sixteen snaps of those whips before Master Wu finally stopped and stared around at the candles.
“Positions!” he called out loudly and the eight naked young women stepped forward and grabbed the candle right at the top just beneath the wick. Master Wu again spun as he snapped his whips. Eight snaps later, the slaves were holding tightly to the short section at the top of the candle. Directly beneath that section an equally sized portion of the candle had dissapeared. Actually it had been pulled free and now lay in the center of the circle near Master Wu’s feet.
“Positions!” Master Wu called out again and the eight naked slaves stepped around the candlestick and stood holding the short piece of candle directly in front of their faces. He snapped his whips rapidly and the candles went out one by one... until he reached the eighth candle. The naked young woman dropped the candle just as the whip snapped. It lay on the floor with the wick still burning.
The crowd went silent, wondering how Master Wu would deal with this mistake. But I could tell it was no mistake. Maybe it was because I was sitting closer with an excellent view. Maybe it was because I was viewing these displays through a judge’s eyes. Or maybe it was just because I was old enough to have seen it all... well maybe not all, but enough to know when something like this was a mistake or was planned.
I knew this wasn’t a mistake because the slave wasn’t quivering in fear. In fact, she was taking slow, deep breaths as if getting ready for some very difficult task. There were traces of moisture at the opening of her sex. This wasn’t pee as if she were scared, this was sexual excitement.
I had just started contemplating what Master Wu might have in mind when he bellowed as if angry, “Bring out the towers. I will show this slave how to properly hold a candle.”
The slave now dropped to her knees and grabbed the fallen candle. She held it up as if it were an offering to a god and cried out, “No, please Master. I will hold the candle properly. I will. I will.”
“Yes you will,” Master Wu snarled. I made a note that he was at the edge of over-acting, but it was still a very good performance from both of them.
He almost stomped over to where she knelt. “At least you preserved the flame,” he muttered angrily as he snatched the short candle from her hands and held it in front of his face for a moment before handing it to one of the other slaves. “If this had gone out on its own,” he almost growled, “you would be in real trouble.” In response she bowed completely down so that her forehead was touching the floor. She said nothing, but remained in that posture whimpering slightly.
While Master Wu was speaking, four men dressed all in black hurried out pushing a sturdy platform with a metal frame restraint on it. I chuckled slightly at the fact that Master Wu just happened to have a sturdy frame restraint standing by in case one of his slaves dropped a candle.
Frame restraints can come in many sizes, but the name comes from the door frames in which some weekend Masters would restrain their subs. This particular frame was a little over two meters high and almost that wide. The metal beams which formed the frame were about ten centimeters square and were painted a high gloss black which contrasted nicely against the flat black color of the platform. There were small hand-crank cable winches attached on the outside of the top and bottom corners of the frame. The metal cables were threaded through the corners of the frame so that someone could be held very tightly within that square.
Once the frame was in the proper place, Master Wu said, “Good,” and the four men pulled levers which retracted the wheels of the frame and set it on the ground. Then one of them walked over to the kneeling, naked, submissive slave and picked her up by the waist and threw her over his shoulder face up. He walked onto the platform and then shifted the passive slave so that he was holding onto her waist while she was suspended upside down. Her legs kicked slightly as they hung over his shoulders. I heard a quiet “Ahhh,” from her and realized that he had blown softly on her cunt as it hung just beneath his face.
Two of the other men quickly attached restraints to her shins and ankles. The cables had already been attached to the restraints. The upper two winches were cranked and the slave was soon suspended in the air upside down with her feet widely spread. The men quickly attached wrist restraints and then tightened the lower winches very slowly until Master Wu said, “Enough.”
He walked up to the slave and struck one of the cables sharply with the handle of his whip. The movement of the cable... and of the slave... indicated that she was indeed very tightly in place. Then he slid his fingers slowly through the slaves cunt. “I see we will not have to lubricate the candle,” he said with a slight laugh.
The slave who was still holding the lit candle scurried up to him and held it out almost as if it were an offering to the gods. Master Wu took the candle and held it up for everyone to see. He then very carefully inserted it into the suspended slave’s cunt. If her legs were not so widely and tightly spread the candle might have burned the insides of her legs, but instead it burned clear... for now. It was now fully inserted into her cunt and if it continued to burn, it would definitely burn her most sensitive areas.
Master Wu stepped back and said, “I am going to use just one whip and use it carefully. I will first extinguish the flame of the candle, and then I will build and extinguish the flame that is smouldering within my slave.”
Some of the crowd looked very confused. I wasn’t. This was all staged. It was staged very well, but it was staged. The slave’s actions had been intentional all along. She knew what was going to happen to her, and it was very obvious that what was happening excited her very much. Maybe I wouldn’t be so sure of things if I hadn’t see her reaction to the stage hand blowing on her cunt. But then again, I have staged a lot of presentations over the years and was sort of expecting something like this.
The crowd became quiet as Master Wu slowly moved his hand forward and back so that the whip began to move in the air like a snake ready to strike. Then, at just the right moment, his arm moved very rapidly out and back and the whip cracked loudly as the tip snapped between the slaves legs. The candle was extinguished.
“Now for the softer fire,” Master Wu said in a soft, but still intense voice.
His hand moved out rapidly, but not fast enough to create the faster than sound sonic snap of the bull whip. Instead the whip moved so that it struck the candle that was held in the slave’s cunt. She gave a quick gasp as the whip splashed hot wax over her cunt lips. Then gasped as it softly struck again... and again... and again. Master Wu had picked up his second whip and was now moving two snakes through the air. Each of the whips struck almost softly on the top of the candle, driving it very slowly into her body.
The slave was now almost vibrating as her body quivered from the sensations which the striking whips were creating within her body. I could see the tension and effort in Master Wu as he maintained the rhythm and controlled force of the whips. People were leaning forward at their tables drawn into the moment. Then Master Wu dropped one of his whips and slowly brought the other whip back over his shoulder. It shot forth with the full fury of a bullwhip and cracked loudly just as it struck the top of the candle and drove it fully into the slave’s cunt. From the judge’s table I could clearly see her labia close over the hot candle as it completly entered her.
Then she screamed. It was not a scream of pain. It was a scream of great passion which had welled up from deep within her submissive self. She cried out, “Oh Master. Oh Master. Oh Master” almost as if she were crying out to her god. Perhaps she was.
Master Wu turned to the crowd and bowed. There was tumultuous applause. He held his bow until the applause peaked and then walked smartly out of the performance area. I, in the meantime, attempted to score his superb program in such a fashion so as to leave room in case one of the other WhipMasters surpassed him.
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END OF CHAPTER TWO
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The true rulers of this world, the credit card companies, have made it almost impossible to sell books with true BDSM themes. Erotic publishers will soon be a thing of the past. So I have pulled all of my books from the one publisher that I had left, and have decided to share them with my on-line followers.