Fr**** Posted September 12 Posted September 12 _____________________________________________ [Bondage][Brat Taming][Sadism][*** and Pleasure] _____________________________________________ You struggle against the restraints holding your hands behind your back. You manage to reach the buckle of the leather belt but he wrapped your hands individually in cloth, so your fingers can not undo the mechanism. After one more effort you yield to the *** in your wrists, at least for now. So you remain still on your knees, curious to find out what he will do with you next. “Seems like I CAN tie you up well enough after all.” He says with a smirky undertone. “Are you sure you don't want to try again? Because you are in a quite… *** position.” His hand is caressing your exposed breasts, softly, and takes the right one in his hand. The other hand starts to caress your nipple, gently rubbing it with his thumb. The tone in his voice is just too arrogant, so you gather your strength for a final escape attempt, but just when you are about to move into action you feel the hot sting of his other palm on the breast he is holding. You startle, as you didn't see it coming. Of course you didn't, you were not seeing anything at all since he put the blindfold on you. “Stay still, slut! You would only make a fool of yourself anyway.” His voice changed to a harsher tone, a warning signal which you foolishly choose to ignore. “Is that all you can do?” You say. “Pathetic.” You fidget around to at least get your fingers free but your efforts are again met with a smack, but this time you are shocked to feel it burning on your cheek. You are not sure what shocked you more, the sharp *** or the sheer audacity of this man. You open your mouth to speak out against such unwarranted *** but before you finish the first word he smacks the same cheek again, sharp and sudden. “Did you want to say something, slut? I didn't quite hear you.” His voice had lost all smirk, the threat in it too clear even for you to overhear. “No, sir. It was just a cough sir.” You reply, your voice almost angelic, feigning submissiveness but your body forfeits the attempt to break free. “Good girl.” He replies and you can feel him touching your legs, brushing his fingers slowly upwards from your knee. A shiver runs through your body as he gets closer and closer to your crotch. “You know what good girls get?” In a faint hope that he bought your fake submission you reply: “Do they get rewarded, sir?” “Correct.” His fingers brush against both sides of your inner thighs as his hand makes its way to your pussy. You cannot help it, you anticipate and desire the sweet touch against your clit but instead he withdraws his hands and says “Unfortunately you are not a good girl, so you will get punished instead.” The fact that you actually expected and craved to have your pussy touched makes you groan in frustration. You hear him get up and walk away from you to the table where he carefully laid out the toys he brought for this occasion. “I will let chance decide which tool I will use to punish you, tell me a number between 1 and 4.” You hadn't seen the sequence of instruments on the table so you just reply “3, sir.” “Poor choice.” You hear him pick something up from the table. Is it a flogger? Or a paddle? Please not a cane! “And as I have you so nicely presenting your tits in this pose, that is where I will hit you.” You hear his footsteps approaching you. “Arch your back and take your punishment. I want you to count every stroke. I will not stop before you learned your lesson.” There is no humor in his voice, the briefness of his sentences hint at his merciless intention. The thought of disobeying crosses your mind, but another part of your brain overrides it, pride and ambition. You can take it, you will outlast him and never beg for mercy. So you proudly arch your back and await the *** of the first stroke. He takes his time, taking in the sight of the beautiful breasts presented to him. He relishes the feeling of power and the satisfaction of seeing you offer yourself to him. There is no sound in the room other than your ragged breath.You feel nothing but a warm tingling in your pussy and the thought of being at his mercy sends shivers down your spine. And then, the sound of an object sirring through air and SMACK!, it hits your right breast, a downwards stroke landing on the topside, thankfully sparing your areola. The *** is sharp and startles you but it is quick to pass and you reassume your proud posture. With a firm voice you say “1”. You identify the riding crop to be the device of your punishment and quickly you feel the second hit on the same spot. The *** is sharper and lasts longer this time. But nothing you cannot handle, “2”... The next few hits land all over your right breast, in quick succession, while the left breast remains untouched. The sharpness and warmth of the hits start to overlap and coat your breast in a warm sensation, and the *** starts to build. “17!, 18!, 19!” you say clearly, but barely managing to keep up with the pace. After number 19 you wait for the next hit but it doesn't come right away. Just when you release your breath and relax a little the whip smacks you right in the middle of your areola, harder than all the other hits before. You inhale sharply, the *** fogging your mind until it finally passes. You feel a rush of heat flowing to your ***d nipple. “20” you exclaim under your breath. You feel your blindfold being removed and you blink while your eyes adjust to the brightness. You see blue eyes looking at you, scanning you for any signs of disobedience or submission. “Did you learn your lesson, slut?” You contemplate for a second and say “What is the lesson sir? It seems you have forgotten to tell me sir.” Your voice is innocent while you meet his gaze with puppy eyes. “Well, the lesson is very easy. You submit to my will and obey my commands. But I see that I need to make myself clearer.” With that he gets up and moves in position to continue the whipping. “Yes sir. I learned my lesson sir.” You blatantly lie, fully aware that you are not convincing anyone. “Count!” He barks just before the whip meets the reddened flesh of your maltreated right breast once more.
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