He then started snapping both whips rapidly all around him. When he stopped, there was a smattering of applause, but for the most part, the audience looked confused. All twelve of the candles were still burning brightly. He looked around as if he were confused and then shrugged his shoulders in an exaggerated way.
The four young women ran on stage as if to carry the candles and holders off as they had done before, but this time, they stopped just outside the circle and each grabbed two of the candles just below the top. They then stepped back holding just the top half of each candle.
The Whipmaster had cut each candle in half without knocking it over or putting out the flame.
The applause was deafening. He waited until the crowd had almost quieted down when he once more snapped his whips all around himself. All of the candles were now out, and the roar of the crowd was, if anything, even louder than before.
He bowed several times from within the circle of candles, then grabbed the top half of the four candles which the girls had not taken and walked up to the very front of the stage. He was smiling broadly as he tossed the candle portions one by one out to the screaming women.
By the time he had turned around, the four assistants had carried the remaining candlesticks off stage. When they returned, they were each leading a female slave by a chain attached to her collar. Each of the female slaves had large silver bells hanging from both of their nipples.
The Whipmaster waited patiently as the assistants positioned the naked slaves to stand in a square around him. Then the scantily-clad assistants took their own positions which rounded that square out into a circle. In their hands, they each were holding more silver bells.
The assistants held out the bells in front of themselves, and the slaves lifted their breasts as much as they could to present the bells to The Whipmaster. The whips began snapping and the bells began ringing. Soon a popular Christmas carol was ringing out from the stage.
The crowd’s applause almost drowned out the bells before the short piece ended. The Whipmaster walked to the front of the stage and took his customary low bow and then returned to the center of the circle.
From her perch high above the stage, missy could see three of the slaves and all four of the assistants turn their faces toward the remaining slave. She nodded her head quickly several times. All their eyes returned to The Whipmaster as he once more snapped his whips above his head. The then began– literally– whipping out the “William Tell Overture”.
After only a few notes, most of the audience recognized it, even if they thought it was the theme from The Lone Ranger. He had barely finished the opening bars, however, when one of the slaves… the one everyone had been looking at, suddenly flinched and stepped back.
“How dare you!” he screamed in his heavily-accented voice. “Do you not trust my skills with the whip?” He glared at her for a moment and then said very firmly, “Back in place, slave!”
The girl stepped back into place, but again, after only a few notes, jumped back out of the way so that the whip missed the intended bell.
“If you can’t stand in place on your own,” The Whipmaster said, trying to sound very severe, “then we will have to help you.”
He pointed over to the frame on stage right and ordered, “Restrain her!”
“It’s a setup,” missy said to herself. “They were making sure who was supposed to mess up.” Then she, and the audience, watched intently as the four assistants carefully strapped the pseudo-miscreant slave tightly into the frame. From the grandstands it looked like she was struggling against them, but missy could see that her movements stopped every so often so the assistants could properly close the restraints.
“Transfer the bells,” ordered The Whipmaster and the other three slaves removed their nipple clamps and re-attached them to the bound slave’s breasts on either side of her nipples. The slave now had four bells hanging from each breast.
“All of them!” he said, pointing his whip at one of the assistants.
She stepped forward and began attaching her bells to the bound slave’s body. Evidently there was a clamp of some sort already on the short chain which the assistant was holding because when she stepped back, both of her bells hung from the flesh of the bound slave’s right underarm.
A second assistant stepped forward and attached her bells to the left underarm. The third assistant’s bells were placed one on each of the breasts so the slave now had four attached to each breast as well as one on each nipple.
“Where are the other two going to go?” missy asked herself. Most of the crowd was asking itself the very same thing.
As if in answer to that unspoken question, the last assistant stepped forward and held one of her bells up in front of the slave’s face. The slave dutifully stuck out her tongue and the assistant clamped the bell in place. She then stood in front of the slave slowly moving the bell around in the air as if trying to think of where to place it. Finally she lowered her hand so that the bell was dangling just below the slave’s crotch.
She looked out at the crowd as if asking, “Should I do it?”
The crowd roared out its answer and with a smirk and a nod of her head, she clamped the bell to the slave’s clit. The slave responded with a very painful-sounding groan.
The Whipmaster again addressed the crowd. “First the tune,” he said and then quickly returned to the overture. Once again, the shouts and cheers from the crowd almost drowned out the bells before he completed his short excerpt.
Turning once again to the crowd, he said slowly, “Now the punishment.” His whips snapped twelve times in rapid succession as he was turning back around and all of the bells on the slave’s breasts and underarms flew off across the stage. Her loud scream of pain was not fake as the clamps were torn from her body.
The Whipmaster paused and swung his whips underhand back and forth several times as if measuring his shot. Then both whips snaked out at the same time and the bells flew from her nipples. The bell on her tongue rang loudly and she screamed and thrashed against her restraints.
He again swung his whips in preparation for striking. It seemed to take him a long time to align his strike and the audience grew quiet in anticipation. Suddenly one whip snapped upward and the bell was torn from the slave’s tongue. In response she thrashed even harder than before, but her scream was very subdued. Perhaps the pain in her tongue acted almost like a gag and prevented her from crying out.
There was only one bell left. The Whipmaster dropped one whip to the stage and stood carefully measuring his strike for well over a minute. Missy could see that almost everyone was leaning forward waiting for this final bell to be knocked free.
The whip suddenly slashed out and the bell… rang. It had barely touched it. He stood even longer moving the whip up and down and staring at the bell hanging between the bound slave’s legs.