Taking
the ring on her collar, he dragged her out into the living room and took her
down to the corner of the room near the whipping stand. He released her and
tapped the floor with his foot. She looked at him and then understood. She sank
to her knees and looked up at him fearfully. He kept tapping it until she got
the idea and lowered herself to her belly. Once down, he clipped her ankle
bracelets together. He drew the chain from the whipping stand down and
connected it to her ankles. He went to the side, and using an overhead pully,
drew the chain down towards him, raising her feet. He kept pulling until she
was well into the air, her breasts at the level with his waist. He affixed the
chain to a hook in the wall.
The
girl clearly knew what was about to happen. She had started sobbing heavily.
She writhed in desperation and her body swung slightly from side to side. He
took down the flogger from the wall. He stood before her for a full minute,
letting what was about to happen sink in. The girl looked up at him pleadingly,
sobbing steadily.
He
reared back and struck her with the leather thongs across her breasts. She
screeched and her body jerked. He struck her belly and the front of her thighs.
She wailed and sobbed. He went around the back and flailed her buttocks and the
back of her legs. He did her upper back. She jerked and twisted and screeched.
He tempered his blows somewhat. He was well above average strong, and he didn't
want to terrorize the girl into apoplexy. He would save that for the
appropriate time. This was just a little getting to know you exercise. Call it
getting off on the right foot.
He
struck her repeatedly, circling around her, pausing between each blow to give
each one its full effect. Her skin was turning a mottled red. Her breasts
swayed and jerked nicely. Her muffled screams were well satisfying. His cock
had gone rigid, as it always did when he administered a beating and he had
worked up a little sweat. After the fifteenth blow, he paused. He didn't want
to get carried away with the thing. He looked at his watch. It was quarter to 2
and he had to review some notes before the meeting. "Five more," he thought to
himself. He administered them quickly and brutally, bringing the girl a
whirlwind of pain. She howled and screeched and sobbed, jerking and writhing
her body.
When
he was done, he took a deep breath. Bob was right, she did take the whip well.
And now she would be voraciously obedient.
He
remounted the whip on the wall. He didn't say anything to the girl. It wasn't
necessary. The message had been delivered. She was moaning and sobbing quite
pleasingly. She looked up at him with fear-filled eyes. "I think she'll do very
nicely," he thought. As advertised.
He
turned, stepped over to his communications room and shut the door.
Yolanda
swayed back and forth as she sobbed and sobbed. It was just as she had imagined
it would be. Actually, worse. The man was fearsome.
His silence was ominous. Mistress Jean and Master Bob and the others had almost
continuously talked to her, whether to cajole her into greater obedience and
alacrity, to admonish her for deficiencies or just call out in pleasure. This
man had no need for language. His fearsomeness was enough. And she was his
prisoner! His slave! She didn't know where she was, but she was sure it was
somewhere remote and isolated. He could do anything he wanted to her.
She
had seen the delight in his eyes while he whipped her. They seemed feverish.
She knew that this was not the only time she would be whipped. Her whole body
soured in deep unhappiness. How did this happen? Why did she deserve this? How
would she ever be able to escape?