After I finished cleaning up, puta and I ran over to the Ferris Wheel so she could get tied on. She called it getting hooked up, but what they used was more or less standard restraints.

Naturally, she was the first slave there. She was practically bouncing up and down with expectation. You would think she was being given some great treat rather than being tied onto a wheel of pain. Well, having said that, I guess for puta, they are the same thing.

She was led up onto a platform that had a section that extended out from it like those boarding ramps they use for planes except it was totally open. The floor of the boarding ramp was pushed right up against the Ferris Wheel. It bounced a little under the combined weight of Tweedledee and Tweedledum, but it seemed sturdy enough to handle them.

They turned puta around and had her stand with her back against the Wheel and put her hands over her head. Then they wrapped the cloth restraints around her wrists. All of Herr Dunkler’s restraints are cloth of one sort or another. I guess leather wouldn’t work too well with all the water.

Once her wrists were tightly secured, someone rotated the Wheel just a little bit so that she was stretched up tight and almost on her tiptoes. The outer portion of the Ferris Wheel is covered in a heavy steel mesh of some sort, so she was drawn back against that with her body bent back a little in a bow. Tweedledee– or was it Tweedledum– made sure puta’s body was tight against the mesh and then used a wide cloth strap to hold her securely in place. The Wheel rotated more until puta’s feet were at about the twin’s waist. Then they used slightly larger cloth restraints to hold her ankles tightly in place.

Both twins then stepped all the way back onto the platform and they pulled the boarding ramp back just a little. The Ferris Wheel rotated until puta was on the opposite side hanging upside down. Then one of the twins actually spoke. “Next!” he said in a really booming bass voice.

Someone– evidently her Master– pushed the hairless black girl forward. She was saying, “No, please, Master, don’t make me do this,” but there was pussy juice running down the insides of both legs. She was probably almost as big a painslut as puta but she evidently wouldn’t admit that to herself... or anyone else.

They used the same method to strap her in place. The only difference was that when she was completely in place and they rotated the Wheel, they backed the ramp farther away. I hadn’t watched the slaves get put in place on the Wheel before, so I wondered why they did that, but then puta came rotating past the end of the ramp. They kept rotating the Wheel until she was totally past and there was a space for another slave to be restrained. The Wheel can hold eight slaves, so puta’s hands were almost at the top when she stopped.

The next slave up was a flaming redhead that I had seen walking around the Faire with a dark-complected Master. Her lily-white skin had looked even whiter standing next to him. Her bright pink nipples were hard, but I don’t know if that was from excitement or fear. The fiery orange triangle between her legs made it hard to tell if she was wet. I am sometimes jealous that redheads, especially the bright orange ones, are lucky and almost always get to keep their pubic hair. Men must like that cunt-on-fire look. I really like keeping myself smooth all over, and most men really like it. But I’m still jealous that redheads have more of a choice.

This redhead probably didn’t think she was lucky. She looked really afraid and was shaking all the while they strapped her in place. She kept looking down and the crowd and crying, “Please, Master, I’ll be good. I’ll be good. I’ll be good.” Either the Ferris Wheel ride was meant to be a punishment for her or she needed to role-play the bad slave in order to get off on the pain. You really can’t tell until they start screaming. If it’s screams of passion, they get off on the pain. If not, well, the Ferris Wheel is definitely a punishment for some slaves.

After she was in place, they rotated her and puta over to the other side and brought up the empty space below the black girl. A naked shemale was pushed forward and quickly strapped in place. He didn’t say anything and it was difficult to tell if he was at all excited. I mean, he wasn’t hard, but he wasn’t hanging totally limp either.

Next to be put on the Wheel was a rather large-breasted dark-haired girl who looked like she had ethnic roots in the Mediterranean. Her Mistress called her puttana, which, I think, is the Italian equivalent of the Spanish puta and probably means slut or whore or something like that.

She was shaven or plucked or something between the legs, but she had a bit of a five o’clock shadow there and also on her upper lip. I don’t know how really hairy women ever get things stripped clean. I don’t have much hair and it’s a constant struggle for me. Master says he would pay for permanent removal, but I don’t want to do anything that I can’t reverse later if I want to. Maybe that’s the same reason I don’t have any tattoos. I might not want them later and then what do you do? If I got electrolysis and then decided that I wanted a crotch rug, I’d be shit out of luck.

The sixth slave was a typical proper old-school-English looking young miss. She was rail thin with mousey brown hair and almost no tits. Her Master came up onto the platform with her and before they began strapping her to the Wheel he said, “One last time, are you willing to submit to this punishment? Once the Wheel starts to turn, there is no safe word. You must endure the punishment until it ends.”

Herr Dunkler called up from the ground where he was standing, “Yes, yes, that was all explained to her.”

The Master called back curtly, “I know it was. I want to give her one last chance to accept the alternative.”

“And what is that?” the Dark Lord asked.

“She has been unfaithful to me,” the Master said. “She can leave with her lover or she can stay and endure the Wheel. It will be her way of showing that she loves me and truly submits to only me.”

“Very well,” Herr Dunkler responded. “Make sure she understands her choices.”

“Do you understand, peasant?” the Master said forcefully. Evidently, her name was peasant.

“Yes, Master,” she responded, “I understand. And I know that I did something terrible and you could just send me away, but I do love you and I willingly do this to show my love for you.”

She then raised her arms over her head so the twins could begin wrapping the restraints around her wrists.

When she was secured, Herr Dunkler called out to the crowd, “That is our last participant for the Ferris Wheel today. It looks like the Wheel will turn with only six slaves.”

He gave a signal for the twins to move back off the ramp so it could be pulled fully away from the Wheel when someone called out, “Wait! There are two late arrivals for your Wheel.”

The twins stopped and looked down with bored expressions on their faces. Herr Dunkler turned to the man who had called out and said, “Who are the last-minute additions?”

The man pushed pepper forward and said, “I am Master Maurice, and this is my slave, pepper. This slave caused another slave to be thrown back into the water at the end of your swimming race.”

His face contorted slightly with anger and he spat out, “She threw a fellow slave to the sharks. I would have her publicly flogged without mercy, but the slave who had to falsely endure the sharks begged her Master that I not punish pepper.”

He gave a snorting breath and then said, “I will not flog her, but such a treacherous slave must be punished, so she is going to ride the Wheel... or she is going to leave.”

“Well, well,” Herr Dunkler said, “we have a second slave who must choose between the Wheel and being cast out.”

“You have three,” a woman’s voice said firmly as she pushed her muscle-bound slave forward. “Slave hunk here is the one who threw the other slave into the water. He would have joined slave pepper on the flogging post, but I cannot punish him worse than she who seduced him is being punished.”

Herr Dunkler said curtly to the twins, “Get them strapped in place.” Then he turned to the crowd and said jubilantly, “The Wheel is full! Remember to place your bets for the favorite. When the Wheel returns to the loading position, it will rotate five times so you can vote for your choice of the Slave of the Wheel. When the Wheel has finished its fifth rotation it will stop and we will begin removing the slaves. When the last slave has been removed, the voting will cease.”

While he was speaking, the twins were strapping pepper into the number four position. After she was secure, the Wheel was rotated and slave hunk was strapped into position eight, which made him just before puta in position number one.

Tweedledee and Tweedledum walked back onto the platform and fully retracted the ramp. They stood there with their arms crossed while the Wheel rose slightly to its full height and began rotating slowly.

Suddenly, I realized something and leaned over to Master and asked, “Can a man push his balls back up into his body?”

Master sputtered a little and then said, “Why do you ask?”

“Well,” I said, “I thought Tweedledum and Tweedledee were eunuchs, but now looking at them from below like this, I can see that they have somehow pulled their pricks back between their asscheeks. But what did they do with their balls?”

Master laughed and said, “Yes, pumpkin, cross-dressing men can push their balls back up a little ways and hold them there with really tight, special underpants.”

“Or with really tight Speedos,” I said.

Master grinned and said, “Ah, so you have deduced the secret of the not-really-eunuch twins.”

He paused a moment, said, “But that’s for later,” and pointed up at the platform. Herr Dunkler had stepped up onto the platform to address the crowd. He was definitely back in his showman mode.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he called out, “Masters and Mistresses.” I know that several of you have private chalets at which you hold parties for your friends. If you and your friends have need of a punishment device to keep your slaves in line, as you will see in the next thirty minutes, the Dunklermeister Ferris Wheel is exactly what you need.”

He paused, held his hands together, cocked his head, and gave a really strange smile to one of the Master and Mistress couples as he said, “And if you are into mechanical forms of pleasurable self-bondage, the Dunklermeister Ferris Wheel is exactly what you need. It can be set to give pleasure rather than pain. And as you can see in the brochures, auto-release restraints and automatic computer-controlled loading are available as an extra option.”

He held his hands out wide and looked at the crowd. “And,” he continued, “if you want to punish your slaves with pleasure, the Dunklermeister Ferris Wheel can do that, too, but it takes a lot longer and we don’t have time to demonstrate that this afternoon.”

His voice suddenly became very professional-sounding and lost all trace of an accent. “My brochures and business cards,” he said in extremely clear, aristocratic English, “are on every table or flat surface here at the Faire. Just pick one up and call me so we can discuss price.” He held up his hand with one finger pointed into the air. “And because I know that even Masters tire quickly of their toys, the Dunklermeister Ferris Wheel is available for lease in any increment from six months to seven years.” He chuckled and said, “If you lease it for eight years, it is yours to keep at the end of the lease.”

He then slapped his hands together loudly and said, “But enough of my sales pitch. You are here to see these eight slaves endure my marvelous Ferris Wheel.”

While he was speaking, the Wheel began to descend toward the large oblong water tank located directly beneath it. Only a foot or two of the steel tank stuck up out of the ground, but it was apparently at least six or more feet deep. It was hard to tell from where we were standing.

I was mainly watching puta and pepper. Both of them passed over the surface of the water twice without making contact.

“Who do you think will touch the water first?” Master asked.

“That’s easy,” I replied. “It will be putana.”

“You sound sure,” he said with a laugh.

“Those big hooters are all-natural,” I replied, grinning. “They hang down when she goes under the bottom of the wheel. The first thing to touch the water will be her nipples.”

“If you’re sure,” Master said. Then he turned and called out to someone, “I’ll put a thousand on putana.”

I gulped hard and got quiet. Master was betting a thousand dollars based on what I said. What if I was wrong?

I wasn’t wrong. The very next rotation of the wheel, putana’s breasts touched the water. She yelped when her nipples first touched, but then she gave a soft sigh.

“You can see,” boomed out Herr Dunkler’s voice, “that this is a pleasure cycle for the wheel.” He paused and then said, “We are not going go through a complete cycle, but it should do enough to show you some of the Dunklermeister Ferris Wheel’s pleasure capabilities.”

The next thing to touch the water was the shemale’s prick. His breasts had that solid, pasted-on look of poorly done implants so he evidently wasn’t taking hormones... or not very many of them. His equipment hadn’t shrunk either. He was dangling down just enough so that the tip of his penis dragged into the water. He gave a yelp of surprise and then a groan of pleasure. His prick engorged and became stiff. It also lengthened a couple of inches.

The skinny English girl, peasant, rotated past without touching anything. I looked up at Master and said, “The first thing that will touch on peasant will be her toes.” He just laughed.

Hunk was also hanging down and he also stiffened and engorged when the very mild electrical pulses traveled up his prick. He was about the same size as the shemale when they were flaccid, but when he was stiff, he was at least three inches longer and quite a bit heftier in girth.

Next came puta. The wheel was at least an inch or two lower this rotation. I could see her pushing out her chest so her nipples would graze the water. She smiled and gave a deep sigh as the pulses stimulated her nipples.

The wheel kept descending until finally, even peasant’s nipples were fully in the water. All of the slaves on the wheel were sighing contentedly as they splashed nipples, breasts, pricks, toes, and other various body parts through the electrified water.

Then the Wheel rose back to the top and stayed there rotating while Herr Dunkler gave another sales shtick. “Watch very carefully now,” he intoned seriously, “ and witness the punishment cycle of the Dunklermeister Ferris Wheel. Note that when the slave’s heads are finally forced underwater, the wheel speeds up slightly so there is less danger of drowning.”

I noticed that he said less danger rather than no danger. As soon as he finished speaking, the wheel began to descend. It came down rather quickly until the slaves were only a few inches above the water. It was pretty obvious that putana’s nipples would be in the water in two or at most three rotations.

I was wrong. It was four rotations. I’m glad Master didn’t ask me and wasn’t betting on that.  As soon as slave putana’s nipples touched the water, she started screaming and yelling in a language I didn’t understand. I think I heard “bocha” and something that sounded a little like “diablo” so I think she was saying it was the devil’s kiss. I’m really not sure, but whatever she said, it was obvious that it really hurt.

The shemale was straining and trying to pull his prick back or make it go soft or something. I wouldn’t know, but I’ve been told by people who have pricks that you can’t just will it to go up or go down. Pricks sort of have a mind of their own. And the shemale’s prick was in the mood to be stiff, straight, and tall. Until it touched the water, that is.

His scream really sounded like a girl’s. He continued his girly scream until he rotated around and his prick came out of the water. It had shriveled considerably, but the Wheel would be lower next time around. The shemale whimpered and cried as the Wheel continued to rotate.

English skinny didn’t touch the water. The well-endowed slave hunk did. I expected him to really scream when the tip of his prick went into the water. Instead, he gasped slightly and then began to breathe slowly and deeply. I’d seen that sort of reaction before... in puta. Slave hunk was channeling the pain into pleasure. He was a painslut!

I turned to Master and said, “I didn’t know that guys could be painsluts.”

He laughed and said, “Anyone can be a painslut. It just depends on how your body and your brain are wired. The slut part of painslut is how you control it or seek it. If you can enjoy the pain, you’re just kinky. If you need the pain as if you were addicted to it, you’re a painslut.”

“Does that mean puta is addicted to pain?” I asked.

“Worse than an alcoholic to booze,” he replied flatly. “And it can destroy her in just the same way.”

“Oh,” I said as watched puta rotated into the water. The wheel was down low enough now that her nipples touched. She did the same gasp and go into control mode that hunk had done. Her eyes were closed and she was smiling as she rotated up out of the water on the other side.

The flaming redhead who followed her didn’t gasp. She screamed at the top of her lungs and kept screaming even after she had rotated up and out of the water.

The large-breasted putana was next. Her large breasts pushed all the way into the water so it wasn’t just her nipples that were receiving the shocks. She grunted a little, but basically kept silent until she rotated out of the water.

Slave pepper followed. She wasn’t screaming. She was yelling at the top of her lungs that she hated Master for doing this to her.

The hairless black girl had just enough tits for her nipples to graze the surface. She didn’t scream... or gasp... instead she made almost a motorboat sound of “ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah.”

The shemale was pretty shriveled from his... her first time through the water. But her breasts still went under. He/she almost didn’t react. It was as if her artificial breasts were totally numb, which may have been the case.

The very skinny peasant finally touched the water. She screamed very loudly and when she came up out of the water she was sobbing. Between her sobs, she was calling out softly, “Master, I love you. Master, I love you. Please don’t send me away.”

When hunk went into the water again, his prick was already very stiff. He gasped and then began panting rapidly. It wasn’t the sort of pant that meant he was trying to hold off the pain. It was the sort of pant that meant he had already turned the pain into pleasure.

As he came up out of the water, I heard one of the other Masters say, “Three o’clock for five hundred.” A Mistress almost immediately said, “Ten o’clock for five.”

“What do you think?” Master said.

“About what?” I replied, trying not to sound totally lost.

He laughed slightly and said, “They are betting where hunk will be on the wheel when he finally spurts. The bet is five hundred. The times give the position on the wheel as if it were a clock.”

“In that case,” I said, “I think he will spurt at twelve o’clock on the rotation where his chest first touches the water.”

“You seem to be awfully sure about male painsluts all of a sudden,” Master said.

“I know nothing about male painsluts,” I replied, “but I know puta really well. She will pop off on the rotation where the shocks touch her whole body and... she will pop off at the very top of the rotation because that will be the most humiliating.”

“You were right before,” Master said softly. Then he called out “High noon for five hundred.” Several other Masters and Mistresses called out their bets until all the numbers on the clock were taken. How they were going to be able to tell if he spurted at five, six, or seven since he would soon effectively be under the water for those positions I didn’t know. Maybe Herr Dunkler had cameras in the Ferris Wheel tank, too.

It was three rotations later when hunk’s chest hit the water. In fact, the whole front of his body pushed in contact with the water. I don’t know if he screamed or grunted or anything because his face was the first thing to go under the water. When he came out of the water his prick was bobbing and throbbing, but he hadn’t spurted.

“Wait for it. Wait for it.” Master was saying softly to a Mistress standing next to him. Then, just as hunk’s waist got exactly at the top of the Ferris Wheel he spurted straight up into the air.

“How did you know?” a Mistress said, and Master replied, “I have my own secret sources.”

That made me feel really good inside.

The Wheel continued to descend. Soon all of the slaves were going completely underwater. That must have hurt a lot less because the flaming redhead stopped screaming and was just whimpering loudly as she rotated out and around to go back under. The thin English girl, peasant, was still sobbing, but not as loud, and she was still saying, “Master, I love you. Believe me, I love you,” as she rotated around. The muscle-bound slave hunk was still stiff or again stiff or something, and puta was bouncing in her restraints and saying, “No, no, no, no, no...”

Some of the people probably thought puta was complaining about the pain... and they were partially right. I could tell that she was complaining because she was right on the edge and there wasn’t enough pain to take her over the top.

As Herr Dunkler had said, the wheel sped up once the slaves were going all the way under the water. About the bottom third of the wheel was now underwater, so the slaves were rotating under at about the eight o’clock position and not coming back up until the four o’clock point.

It stayed there for a couple of rotations and then moved rather rapidly back up to where most of the slaves were just barely touching the water. The English slave, peasant wasn’t touching the water and putana was dragging her huge tits through the water, but the other girls were just barely touching their nipples and slave hunk was dragging the tip of his prick through the water.

It stayed at that point for two revolutions. Evidently Herr Dunkler was waiting for something. Then on the third revolution, I heard puta start a keening wail as soon as she rotated up out of the water. When she got to the top, she let herself go and screamed out in orgasm. The Wheel kept going until hunk rotated through and up to the top. He again erupted like a fountain and suddenly the Wheel moved rapidly to the top.

Herr Dunkler’s voice called out, “Remember, you have five rotations of the Wheel and then until the last slave is released to make your bets and cast your votes.”

Master said firmly, “Let’s go,” and walked over to the tent where the voting and betting was taking place. As we walked, I suddenly heard pepper call out from the wheel, “pumpkin butt, forgive me. I was wrong to hurt you.”

Master stopped and turned to face the Wheel. Then pepper called out, “Master Maurice, I know it is time for me to move on. I submit myself fully and completely to you... and only you.”

Master took a very deep breath and then said– perhaps to me, perhaps to himself, perhaps to no one– “I didn’t send her away because I didn’t love her. I did it because I could never love her like I love precious and she deserved more than that.”

I looked up at him and said, “I understand, Master.” I paused because I wasn’t sure I should say the rest, but I did. I said, “And puta and I have all of the love that we need.”

He looked down at me very surprised as if he suddenly realized that he had said his thoughts out loud. For a moment he looked angry and said firmly, “You will never speak of this to anyone else, pumpkin butt. Is that understood?”

I quickly answered, “Yes, Master.”

I won’t tell anyone, but I am including it here in my blog. He can delete any mention of it or he can leave it so that people will understand that being a Master isn’t just being all tough and demanding.

We went on into the tent where Master cast his vote and placed his bet. He didn’t ask me who I thought should be the Slave of the Wheel. I’m glad he didn’t because I couldn’t decide between pepper and peasant. Both were on the Wheel because they had betrayed their Masters in one way or another and both ended up declaring their love for their Master while still on the Wheel.

When it was finally announced that slave peasant was the Slave of the Wheel, Master muttered, “There goes a hundred dollars.” I didn’t ask him who he bet on. I suspect it might have been pepper. Slave pepper would have been my first choice except that her crime of breaking the rules of the Faire to get me thrown to the sharks probably caused her to lose favor in the eyes of most Masters and Mistresses.

After we collected puta, Master turned to the three of us slaves and said, “Why don’t we go over to the food tent and I will buy my favorite slaves whichever flavor of ice cream she desires. And while you are savoring that marvelous treat, slave precious can decide whether or not she wishes to go through a new collaring ceremony and dedicate herself to me as my slave wife.”

Slave precious gasped and stood there with her mouth and her eyes wide open. Slave puta gave her a slight shove from behind and she stumbled and started walking for a step or two. Then she stopped and said, “I don’t have to wait that long to decide, Master. I have considered myself your slave wife ever since pepper left.”

Slave puta and I stepped back slightly so precious could walk alongside Master. Several of the Masters and Mistresses glared at her for not walking in her proper place three steps behind, but several– who knew Master’s love for precious– just smiled. There would be time for walking the proper distance behind her Master later. And the other Masters and Mistresses would understand when Master announced that a slave-wife collaring ceremony would take place just outside Herr Dunkler’s main tent.

There were many Masters, Mistresses, slaves, and neutrals present for the ceremony. Herr Dunkler himself officiated at the slave-wife collaring ceremony and, of course, sold Master a new collar for precious which said, “slave-wife precious” on it.

We left right after the ceremony. I think that Master wanted to get precious home so they could begin their honeymoon. I wanted to get home so I could go to my room and sleep. I’d had enough sex for one day– or maybe even one week. My cunt... my ass... my mouth... my entire body– and my mind– were tired and I just wanted to rest in my own bed. Even puta had had enough and just wanted to get some rest.

Ye Olde Water Faire this year was one we will all remember for a long, long, time.

***

I got this final post done before I fell asleep. I wasn’t sure I would. I will put it in the queue and let Master edit it. I will blog again when something interesting happens in our lives.