Tormented

“You’ve done a lot of lying, which you know I don’t care for.”

The paddle flew through the air without a sound till it connected with her arse, sending her body forward.

“And I can’t help but feel like there’s more you’re not telling me.”

The next whack left more visible imprints of the holes. He allowed them to fade before paddling her again.

“So how many?” he demanded, pulling her head up by the braids.

She blinked once. Twice. Thrice.

“That’s it?” he replied. “I don’t think so. I’ll let you give me another number. If I don’t like it, I’m going to double your answer.”

She started anew and blinked ten times.

“That’s better,” he acknowledged. “But not good enough. We’re going to go with twenty.”

Letting go of her hair, he rubbed her arse, saw her body brace itself, and gave her the first of twenty blows.

“One,” he counted.

She made a sound that could have been a wail or could have been a groan. The next strike made her scream. He stopped at five and looked to see her eyes had started to water. She clenched her hands as she took the next several whacks.

“We’ll take a break,” he said, halfway through her paddling.

Reaching between her legs, he wiggled the tube still attached to her clit. It stretched so far it could have made for a tiny penis. He broke the seal of the tube to pet her clit. Her body jumped at his touch. He slicked his fingers with his saliva and gently fondled the swollen bud. She gave a muffled squeal. He worked the clit till her cunt juices began dripping.

Now that she was properly aroused, he went back to the paddling.

Her arse blushed a nice rosy pink. After a few more blows, the knuckles of her fingers had turned white and he noticed she was digging her nails into her palms. He paused to plant kisses on her rump.

“Only five more to go, pet.”

Her breathing became shallow. He waited to make sure she wasn’t hyper-ventilating. When she had calmed, he continued with the rest of the paddling.

By the time he was done, a tear had escaped the corner of her eye.

He rewarded her with more fondling of the clit but stopped short of an orgasm. Surveying her body folded atop the table, he decided she was in the perfect position for bastinado. Setting aside the paddle, he traced the bottom of her foot with his thumb. She shivered.

“This is an especially sensitive part of the body,” he noted. “Foot torture is still practiced in some parts of the world. You had given bastinado the max rating. I hope that wasn’t one of your exaggerations.”

From his pocket, he took out two rubber bands he had grabbed earlier and wrapped them around one foot. He pulled one back and let it snap back into place. The pitch of her scream was the highest he had heard thus far. He caressed the bottom of her foot before snapping both bands. She screamed again.

“Would you prefer to go back to the paddling?” he asked.

She nodded. But he pulled the rubber bands back. After the snap, she emitted another scream. Her body wanted to scramble away, but there was nowhere for her to go.

She mumbled into the knickers. Probably cursing him. But when she didn’t stop, he decided to pull the rope down her mouth. She spat out the knickers and tried to work the moisture back into her mouth before speaking.

“Fuck me.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Kimani could tell it wasn’t what he had expected her to say, but she hoped he would take h

er up on it. Her ass felt battered and bruised, but she hated the sting of the rubber bands. New tears filled her eyes, and her nose had started to run.

“Are you telling me to fuck you so I’ll end the bastinado?” he asked.