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From: beenabadgrl <beenabadgrl@comcast.net>
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Subject: SPANKING  Mercy (BDSM, M/f, anal, medical...)
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Date: Sat, 01 May 2004 15:40:30 +0000

===================

After her husband dies, a woman sells herself to become what she has always
wanted: a sexual submissive.


Mary clung to the white tile wall with both hands, gasping as the
pressurized spray of cold water hit her back like thousands of sharp glass
shards. The cold wrung involuntary cries from her and her teeth chattered
violently as the focus of that icy spray ran up and down the length of her
body no matter how she twisted and squirmed.

A dark-haired, black-uniformed master held the hose. His harsh, guttural
voice barked out a command in a language she couldn't understand, but the
guard to her right, standing just out of splatter range, interpreted it for
her. "Turn around."

Slowly, Mary turned to expose her naked front and the master gave it an
equally chilly and impersonal dose of the cold water. She bowed her head,
turning her face away so the hard spray wouldn't strike it directly, but the
master spared her very little, the hard cutting fury of the hose punishing
her breasts, stomach and thighs for what felt like forever. When he aimed
for her labia, her hands clenched into fists, and Mary rose up on her
tiptoes, throwing back her head with a high, keening wail that her
chattering teeth warbled and mangled.

Then the hose was shut off.

Mary shook violently; she didn't think she'd ever be anything but cold
again.

The guard at her right side, handed her a bar of soap and said, "Wash
yourself."

Bowing her head, Mary dutifully lathered her skin. Her breasts, her
underarms, her belly, her body was rippled with goose bumps. She kept her
eyes firmly downcast, her face flushing as she bent to soap between her
thighs and tried to pretend there weren't two strangers watching her do
this. Her hands slipped over her buttocks and between, then ran down each
leg in turn, washing quickly and blushing furiously as she did it.

The guard then picked up a razor and stepped in front of her. She held as
still as she could while he shaved her, beneath her arms, her legs, then her
pubis, until she was as bare there like a prepubescent woman-child. He then
took his place once more out of splatter range.

Holding the hose before him, the master spoke, and the guard said, "Wash
yourself again."

Mary repeated the process, rubbing her hands and the soap over every inch of
herself, shivering and barely muffling a moan when the master turned the
hose back on. The white tiled shower room echoed with her shrill gasps and
cries as the icy spray stroked up and down her body again.

"Turn around," the guard told her once more.

And Mary turned, bracing her hands up on the wall as the hose punished her
back, bottom and legs. She was so grateful when the master finally shut it
off. Her knees knocked together. She hugged the wall and shivered.

The master handed the hose to the guard, who re-coiled the length, and
picked up a worn gray towel. He brought it to her, draping the scratchy
fabric over her shoulder until her trembling fingers could uncurl themselves
to pick it up.

He watched her fumble to dry herself, his dark eyes veiled and
unsympathetic. Then he spoke.

"My name is Master Boyden," the guard interpreted. "I am in charge of all
New-comers from the moment they arrive until they are released into the Pit.
For the next month, you and I are going to be inseparable. I will teach you
our language, I will teach you our rules, and if, for whatever reason, you
decide you do not want to cooperate, I will also make you very sorry for
your incorrect choice. Do you understand?"

Shivering in her damp towel, her wet hair dripping down her back, Mary
looked from the guard to Master Boyden and nodded.

Master Boyden spoke again, four short words in his hard, guttural language.

"That means, 'Yes, Master Boyden'," the guard told her. "Repeat it now, and
I would recommend you commit that phrase to memory and use it often while
you're here."

Mary had to repeat the strange phrase four times before she said it
adequately enough and loudly enough to satisfy the frowning Master Boyden.
Wrapped in only the harsh towel, she then followed him out of the shower
room and down the long, dark corridor, deeper into the mountain fortress,
until they arrived at what looked to be a doctor's examining room. She
balked in the doorway when she saw the table with its cold metal stirrups,
but the guard behind her simply flicked her flanks with the end of the
switch he carried and Mary meekly crept into the room.

Waiting for the doctor to arrive, shifting nervously from foot to foot, her
gaze flitted from the upright scale to the exam table and the nearby tray
with all its gynecology tools, then to the blood test equipment set up
across the room.

Mary swallowed hard. She tried to keep her breathing slow and even, but she'
d never liked doctors' offices. She could have cheerfully missed every one
of her annual exams, except that Richard always made her go. He would drive
her there in fact, and accompany her into the office so he could watch. She
remembered how he used to say he was going to order one of those tables for
their home, so he could perform those exams on Mary himself. She couldn't
help but shudder, almost grateful then that his attention had turned to
Mahogany and China.

When the doctor finally arrived, he did not come alone. Tane came with him,
followed by what was probably every master within Judgment. There were more
than twenty, all dressed much like Master Boyden, the stark black of their
uniforms broken only by a silver insignia where a right breast pocket might
otherwise have been. All were somber and unsmiling, and most stared directly
at her with dark stares that made her very nervous.

This was what she'd wanted, Mary reminded herself. But she clutched the
towel tightly around herself and shivered nonetheless.

"This is the last time you are going to hear English while you are here,"
Tane told her. "But the time we spend waiting for our words to be translated
to you is time spent out of the Pit and away from our duties. Product, by
their very nature, are not as quick to obey the guards as the masters."

"Should we wait for Shipe?" the Master Doctor asked, donning a long white
lab coat over his black uniform and reaching for a pair of plastic gloves.

"No," Tane said. "He is supervising the Personals."

"All right then." The Master Doctor handed a clipboard and paper to Master
Boyden. "Would you keep the log?"

"Of course." And to her, Boyden then said, "Drop the towel."

Reluctantly, Mary let her damp wrap slide down her body and she stepped free
from the folds. Up until tonight, Richard had been the only man to ever see
her unclothed. Now she had the eyes of over twenty men watching her every
movement. She kept her own downcast and tried not to think about it.

"We'll begin over here." The Master Doctor led her to the scale. He checked
her height first. "Five-foot-five-and-a-half inches.
One-hundred-twenty-seven pounds."

And Boyden documented both.

Then she was moved to the lab station, where the Master Doctor prepared to
draw her blood. Mary offered up her arm willingly, but turned her head aside
and closed her eyes when she felt the tip of the needle prick her skin.

Across the room, one of the masters asked, "Is someone going to tell us why
we're all here? She seems rather well-behaved to me. And surely one
troublesome little female doesn't require all of us?"

"Blonde isn't troublesome at all," Tane said. "I asked you here because she
is not Product. I don't want her mistakenly taken to the Pit or fraternizing
freely with the rest of the Lessers. There will be confusion enough as it is
until I work out how she should be treated."

"She's not Product?" asked a golden-haired master. Leaning back against a
counter, he ran a hand over his mustache and neatly-trimmed goatee as he
studied her. "Where are we going to bed her?"

"Smith doesn't have anyone in his barracks right now," another suggested.

But hand on his lean hips, Master Smith raised his slightly gray head and
said, "True, but if we get a New-Comer with a decent singing voice in the
next batch, then we'll only have to move Blonde somewhere else. In my
experience, it's not good for females to be shuffled back and forth from
master to master."

"Agreed," Tane said. "Masters Shipe and Cobb have no assigned barracks, so
one of them can be prevailed upon to take her when her time with Boyden is
up."

Beside him, another master said, "If she's not a Lesser, and I'm assuming
that she's not a Personal--" The man tipped his head slightly to one side,
as though asking for clarification. "--then what is she?"

Tane looked to his brother. "What do you think: an experiment?" he asked. "A
volunteer, maybe?"

Master Deaton shrugged with his eyebrows. "She sounds like a volunteer to
me."

"Blonde has paid us for the privilege of being trained," Tane said.

There was a moment of dead silence among the gathered masters, then someone
started to laugh and the others quickly followed suit.

Cheeks burning, the object of their amusement kept her eyes firmly on the
ground.

"How much did she pay?" asked one of the younger masters.

"A hell of a lot," Tane told him.

"Maybe we should alter our profession."

Master Deaton nudged his brother's elbow. "Told you."

"If we didn't run the risk of contaminating the rest of the Product, I might
consider it," Tane said. "In the meantime, I am going to create a position
just for Blonde. Something below both Personals and Product. I was thinking
we could put her to work maintaining and organizing the Common Library."

"She would be in direct contact with the Product then," Master Deaton
commented.

But Tane shook his head. "For the brief breaks during the day, she can face
the wall. The Lessers will be curious at first, but if we are vigilant and
pass out enough Demerits, they'll soon get the message. For the few hours
after dinner when the Lessers have full access to that room, then Blonde can
take her daily exercise, or spend some free time in one of the hobby rooms.
I really don't think we'll need to worry about it for too long. Chances
are," his black eyes settled on Mary's bowed head, "one or two trips to the
Demerit room will likely satisfy her curiosity. She'll all but run back to
civilization to get away from us."

The very thought of having to return home, to wander the halls of that great
empty house with only herself for company, made Mary shudder. But then she
remembered, she'd given all her money to Tane. So truly, it wouldn't be long
before she didn't have even that house anymore.

"Hold still," the Master Doctor told her, switching a full vial for the last
empty one.

"I'm sure we can find enough ways to occupy her time," Tane smiled, "if we
use our imaginations."

His comment won a smatter of dark chuckles from the others.

"We could send her to tidy the Master's gym," Deaton suggested.

"She could oil straps and maintain the Demerit Hall," Smith added. "The
Lessers don't do that near often or well enough." One corner of his mouth
lifted upward as he said, "For some reason, they seem strangely reluctant to
go in there."

Even the Master Doctor chuckled at that, and he removed the needle from her
arm, pressed a tuft of cotton to the wound, and stretched a band-aid over
it. "All right, you." He gestured for her to precede him to the exam table.
"Let's go."

This was the part that she dreaded the most. Mary tried not to look at them
as she reluctantly stepped up onto the retractable ledge and sat down on the
edge of the table.

"Get your hips right up on the very end here," the Master Doctor told her.
"Nobody likes this part, but everyone goes through it. You may as well lay
back and be quiet."

Lying down, Mary reached out to grab onto the padded sides of the table. She
held on tightly, staring up at the ceiling. Blinking rapidly, she struggled
to keep her breathing easy and slow as the doctor helped her feet into the
stirrups.

"Look at that pretty little cunny," he said, his hands against the insides
of her thighs to part her legs wider. "Relax your legs, now. That a girl.
Open right up for me."

Blushing hotly, she forced her tense muscles to ease as she gave him full
access to her most intimate places. She closed her eyes when she heard him
pick up one of the metal tools on the table beside him.

He touched her with his fingers first. He ran his thumb along her slit,
moistening it before parting the folds in search of her clit. She caught her
breath, almost lifting her hips from the table when he stroked her, but his
hand on her pelvis kept her in place. "Given some encouragement, she
moistens up nicely." Abandoning her clit, he gently sank a finger inside
her. "Very snug. Almost virginal, in fact."

Mary stifled a moan, staring fixedly up at the ceiling lights as he tested
the tightness of her anus with his other hand. He gave her a sharp swat.
"Relax your bottom!" he ordered.

She clutched the table even tighter, her legs beginning to tremble. But she
took several deep breaths and made the lower half of herself go slack.

The Master Doctor parted the fleshy lips of her labia, opening her wide
enough to sink two fingers into her tight sheath, and another from his other
hand into her bottom's passage. He shook his head. "The Product didn't come
back like this. How long has it been, Blonde?"

"Two. . .mm--" she cleared her throat. "Two years."

"That feels about right." His hand withdrew and the Master Doctor replaced
his fingers with a very cold speculum.

Mary nearly came up off the table when the lubricated devise slipped into
her vaginally. Her hands fisted at her sides, and her back arched as she
sucked a deep breath into her lungs, the sound like an inverted scream.

"Get your legs apart, Blonde," the doctor said mildly.

Mary grabbed both her thighs, panting hard as she tried to keep her legs
from snapping shut or kicking out to get both him and that icy speculum away
from her.

"No," he said as he examined her. "She definitely has not had a man inside
her for quite a long time."

"Between our collective imaginations," Tane said with another smile, "I
think we can take care of that, too."

"And I get her first," Boyden said, making notes in the log. He chuckled.
"Damn, I love my job."

The Master Doctor took two cultures and finished his exam. He removed the
metal tool from her body and Mary promptly scrambled down off the table. She
covered herself with one hand, her skin icy cold where the speculum had
touched her. She didn't care how it looked; she rubbed until her cold flesh
began to warm.

The doctor handed her two, small plastic cups. "Give me a urine sample in
one and fecal in the other."

Still rubbing between her legs, warily she asked, "Why do you need that?"

Behind her, Master Boyden dropped his clipboard on the table, took two
sudden steps forward, and lay a fearsome swat to the center of her naked
buttocks.

Mary sucked a startled breath. Her hands darted behind her, but before she
could even touch her stinging cheeks, he barked, "Hands on your head!"

The plastic cups 'tok-ed' as they hit her skull, so startled was she that
she didn't even drop them first before obeying him.

"There is no rubbing when I discipline you," he told her.

Mary glanced over at Tane, but Boyden swatted her sharply again, causing her
hips to jerk outward with the force of the impact.

"Don't look at him; look at me." His eyes flashed. "You are in my barracks.
For the next four weeks you belong to me. Not him. And if I ever hear you
question a master again, I will put you to the block and whip you myself!"

Mary swallowed hard, her eyes filling tearfully as she stammered, "I-I-I'm
sorry, Master Boyden."

His dark eyes remained locked with hers for a long time. "On your knees," he
ordered, and she hit the ground instantly, bowing her head and trying hard
to keep from crying in front of him.

"Get your head all the way down," he told her. Without waiting for her, he
grasped her nape and firmly pushed until her forehead nearly touched the
floor. "Hands behind your back."

She let go of the cups, sending them rolling across the floor in opposite
directions as she clasped her hands behind her. It was the position Mahogany
and China had thrown themselves down into when Tane had entered their room
back in the States. Every muscle in Mary's body clenched and tightened. Was
it her turn now to be beaten? Wavering between a little anticipation and a
lot of fear, her breath catching in her throat, but she didn't dare move.

Releasing the back of her neck, Boyden stood up. He walked around her,
studying her from all sides. "There isn't a mark upon you," he said. "Has it
been two years since your husband disciplined you, too?"

Mary hesitated. Her eyes began to sting, and then she felt the mutinous
trickle as a tear slipped past her lashes and fell from her cheek to the
floor. "He did. Twice, sir, after the In--the Product came."

"What was that?"

"Sometimes, Master Boyden, sir."

"You censored yourself. What were you were going to say originally?"

"Interlopers," she softly admitted.

Eyes narrowing, Boyden squatted down beside. "How long has it been, Blonde,
since the last time you were disciplined?"

Her bottom lip began to wobble. Another tear spilled halfway down her cheek,
then fell to the floor. "Six months, three weeks, five days."

"Look at me."

Mary tucked in her chin. She didn't want to raise her head; she didn't want
him to see she was crying. She felt pitiful enough as it was. But left with
few options, she sniffed, wished she had something to wipe her eyes with,
and looked up.

"Don't waste your tears here," he told her. With his body blocking her view
of the other masters, it was easy to feel as though they were the only two
people in the room. "We are not your husband; we are not neglectful. Your
counting the days will end tonight in my barracks. Save your tears for
that."

For a moment, Mary couldn't breathe. Her stomach clenched so hard, she was
afraid she might be sick.

"I still need my specimens," the Master Doctor reminded them.

"Get up," Boyden told her. "Do as you are told. With the night you have
ahead of you, you don't want me aggravated anymore than I already am."

Dismissing the other men, as Tane turned to go, he said, "Master Boyden, I
leave her in your capable hands."

His dark eyes boring into hers, Boyden said, "By morning, she'll be
responding to the whip like a second year Elite."

And that look he gave her reminded Mary so much of the ones her husband used
to wear, before the Interlopers had come, back when he'd still needed her to
sate his demons, before he'd lost all interest in her. At last, Mary was
needed again. She was wanted and desired.

Though he'd told her to stand, she bowed back down, pressing her forehead to
the floor at Boyden's feet. She anointed his boots with her tears, then
kissed them.

"Well, what do you know," he said, a slight smile tugging the corners of his
mouth as he watched her. "There is such a thing as a natural submissive.
Fascinating."

* * * * *

"The first bunk will be yours," Boyden told her, holding open the barracks
door for her to proceed him. "When I return, you are to be kneeling on the
floor, forehead on the tiles, hands behind your back. We have seven months
of neglect to make up for. Never fear, I'll make sure you're broken in
properly."

As naked as the day she was born, her hair still damp but at least no long
dripping icy water down her back, Mary crossed the threshold and he closed
the door behind her. She found herself standing at the top of a narrow
flight of metal stairs. Twin rows of twelve single beds ran down the length
of the room and, except for a wooden A-frame and a display of implements
towards the front, there was little else in the way of furniture.

The only person there, Mary went slowly down the stairs. She glanced once at
the A-frame, then the display of canes, paddles and straps, before slowly
turning to the closest bed. Not sure how long he would be absent and not
wanting to be caught out of position when he did return, she lowered herself
to wait the way he'd commanded.

The hard white tiles were not kind to her knees nor her shins, and as the
time dragged slowly on, she began to ache where her weight caused the most
pressure. But Mary remained in position. She remembered in that long ago
time when it was Richard she waited for. She used to distract herself from
the physical discomforts by wishing herself into more pleasant surroundings.

Then of course things had changed and it was the Interlopers who'd had to
face his temper.

Mary rested her forehead on the tiles, not sure what to want for now to take
her mind off her aching knees. But she had come a long way to be put in this
position again; she certainly didn't want to wish herself back into neglect.
She winced, shifting her weight slightly off-center. Maybe she could wish
for Master Boyden to hurry up and get here so she could get up off the
floor.

What if he made her kneel here all night?

Mary bit back a groan. She shifted again, but there was no position more
comfortable in which to spare her legs.

No sooner had she shifted back, then did the barracks door swing open, and
she heard the heavier tromping of a man coming down the stairs. Mary didn't
raise her head, but it didn't matter. Every nerve ending in her body seemed
to come instantly awake, as though a charge of static electricity had
coursed in through her skin as Boyden's familiar black boots strode by her.
She felt the breeze of his passing ruffle through her hair, followed by the
faint scent of his cologne. There was a dry rattle of bamboo clattering
against wood as he set several items on a neighboring bed.

"Close your eyes," he told her.

This was it. Mary stared down at the tile just beyond the tip of her nose,
her breaths quickening as her body came to tingling awareness. This was what
she'd wanted. It was silly to be afraid now. What could he possibly do to
her that Richard had not?

The thought did not ease her nervousness, but Mary closed her eyes anyway.

"Sit up," Master Boyden said.

Slowly, her knees and shins screaming out in agony, she rose to a kneeling
position on the floor. The brush of cloth touched her cheek as, without a
word, Boyden managed to do the one thing her husband never had: he tied a
blindfold over her eyes.

Mary stiffened. Only by sheer force of will did she keep from reaching up to
pull it off again. Richard had always wanted her to see what was coming; he'
d liked to watch the fear on her face and to breathe the scent of it off her
skin. Mary was familiar with that method. It felt comfortable to be able to
see what was coming. As though she could almost handle it better then. But
this. . .How could she brace herself against something she couldn't see?

She stifled a frightened gasp as Boyden tipped her head back all the way.
She swallowed hard, flinching just a little when she felt a gentle touch at
her temple. It wasn't until the bristles sank into her hair and slowly began
to stroke through the thick mass that she recognized the thing that touched
her as a hairbrush.

Master Boyden quietly and patiently combed her hair until it was free of
tangles and very nearly dry. "Gives me something to hang onto," he said as
he wove the long blonde tresses into a single, fat braid that dangled midway
down her back.

The ache in her sore legs was almost forgotten when he took that hairbrush
and gently stroked her bare back with the bristled side. He rasped it softly
across her shoulders, caressing down over her breasts and winning another
sharp gasp from her lips as the brush pricked across the rapidly stiffening
peaks of her nipples.

She hunched her shoulders, but that was as much as she dared to draw away.

"New-Comers," he said, trailing the bristles down over the flat of her
belly, "are generally given gentle spankings. Canes, birches and prolonged
thrashings are deemed much too severe for young girls who have never had
their bare bottoms smacked before. But you're not really a New-Comer to
this, now are you?"

The hairbrush pricked down over her thighs, rasping in soft strokes from her
hips to her knees, Mary shivered, something that had--this time--absolutely
nothing to do with the cold.

"Are you?" he murmured against her sensitive ear.

Mary shook her head once. "No, Master."

"Master is a title given to Tane alone, and then to whomever takes you as
his own," Boyden told her. "You will address me as sir."

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl." He kissed the shell of her ear, drawing it into his mouth and
suckling it even as the prickly brush moved down between her legs and
pressed against her newly shaven mons. The wooden head of it was so wide
that she could feel the edges pressing against her thighs and the size of it
was large enough to cover her trembling sex.

"Six months," he said, as he kissed the sensitive hollow of her ear. "Three
weeks and five days; far too long for any female to be so neglected and
misused. We'll have to fix that."

He wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her back against him, lifting
her up off her knees and bringing her back to sit on his. He lightly slapped
the acutely tender flesh of her pussy with the prickling bristles, and she
felt that smack throughout her entire body. Her hips bucked, brushing upon
the large and very solid bulge of his manhood, uncomfortably contained
within his pants and pressing up between her naked buttocks.

"I'm going to give you one stroke for every day you were ignored." He turned
the brush over and slapped her pussy again, this time with the flat, wooden
head. Mary stiffened, blindly throwing back her head against his shoulder.
She mewed a soft sound of protest as he said, "We'll round up. Two hundred
and fifty is a good number, don't you think? But not with this." Wood
clattered on tile as he set the implement down. "Hairbrushes are for beloved
Personals and tender little New-Comers. Experienced, naturally submissive
women like you, mm," Boyden chuckled, a dark aphrodisiac of sound, in her
ear. "You can take a proper thrashing."

Mary trembled as he began to lift her. Unable to see, she didn't fight as he
brought her up onto her feet and turned her around. His hands left her
briefly, returning seconds later as he gave her a thick strap to hold.

"You've never been whipped until you've suffered the kiss of Judgment
leather," Master Boyden said.

The strap was heavy, at least four inches wide, and her hands could not
close all the way around it. She barely breathed as her fingers explored the
length of it from the end of the triangular tongue to the wooden handle with
its wrapped, slip-resistant grip.

It had been so long and the count was so high. . .

When Master Boyden again touched her, his hands settling about her waist as
he tried to move her, a shock of belated reluctance had Mary digging in her
feet. "W-wait, please. . ."

"Come on," he tsked. "None of that. You don't really want to fight me, and
it won't help you anyway. Now, bend."

Breathing hard, very near to tears, Mary blurted, "But I can't see!"

"I don't require you to."

"Please, sir, may the blindfold come off? I could bear it if I could see it
coming!"

"Then you had best learn how to bear it blind, since I intend to light a
fire in you that will take days to extinguish. And I promise, you'll feel
every stroke far more intensely this way."

She shook. "Please, sir--"

"No." He placed his hand between her shoulders, applying gentle pressure
until she bent down.

Hugging the strap to her chest, she found herself laid over the foot rail of
her bed, the thickness of a pillow propping her hips up and softening the
pressure of the metal against her pelvis. He wrapped a length of strap
through the foot rail's bars, then looped it around her waist, buckling it
at the small of her back and pulling the strap firmly taut. The thick edges
of the punishment strap bit into Mary's fingers and palms as she clutched
it, bowing her head to bury her face in the neatly made mattress. There
would be no escaping now until he let her go, and she felt a little relieved
to have the option of that disobedience taken from her.

His hand patted the soft inner slope of thighs. "Legs apart."

He dropped to one knee behind her, taking hold of her left ankle and
bringing it out to the corresponding leg of the bed where he secured it with
a leather restraint. He did the same to her right, then adjusted the strap
at her waist and tightened it down until Mary could not move her lower body
at all.

Boyden patted her hip, his hand never leaving her skin as he walked around
the side of the bed. From her back to her shoulders, his hand then caressed
down her arm to take hold of her wrists. She groaned her trepidation into
the bedding as he stretched her out, securing her hands together to the head
rail via a second set of restraints.

He caressed her body back down to her thighs, feeling the tension in her
limbs and tightening the straps wherever needed. Until Mary could feel the
strain in her arms, shoulders and the backs of her thighs. Until she could
not move so much as an inch to relieve it.

She had paid for this. She had come halfway around the world for it.

Master Boyden had to pry the strap from her tightly clenched fingers.

"Don't worry." He bent to press a kiss to her hip, just above the target he
then caressed with his warm palm, stroking the entire surface of her bottom,
down the backs of her thighs, up between to cup her intimately. "Every fifty
strokes, we'll pause to give this a bit of attention. After all, we don't
want your bottom to become desensitized to the strap. Where would be the fun
in that?"

He kissed her again, giving her quivering sex a final pat before stepping
back from the bed.

Every mean thought Mary had ever entertained about China and how quickly she
had capitulated her screams to Richard's enjoyment, she took back with that
first crack of leather upon the skin of her bare buttocks. It wrapped her in
its loving embrace, branding her with a fiery pain that consumed the entire

lower portion of her bottom without mercy. The sound of it was sharp and
crisp, like a gun shot that echoed impossibly loud in the near empty
barracks room.

She had forgotten how much it could hurt to be so needed. All those nights,
when she'd lain awake wishing it was her bottom that burned and ached, she
had forgotten all about the many levels of hell that had to be suffered
first before she could be consumed by torment's almost pleasurable
afterglow. Boyden's strap provided her with a very thorough reminder. Mary
didn't even try to bear it bravely.

The first two strokes covered her bottom entirely, the broad width causing
them to overlap, with the pointed leather tongue licking around her hip to
sink its bite into her tender side. The loud snaps would have left her
hopping were she not secured so completely over the foot rail. Every
subsequent stroke after that only heightened the fire, deepened the agony,
and stole her voice with ragged screams that felt torn from her throat.
Though she tried to keep count, the pain had her overwhelmed by the time the
tenth stroke seared across the base of the buttocks. How was she ever going
to survive two-hundred-and-fifty? Mary began to cry, and the blankets
beneath her became soaked with her tears and her sweat.

"You may scream and cry all you want," Boyden told her as he swung that
wicked strap low enough to partially catch the tops of her splayed thighs.
"It's not going to spare you a lick." He paused to caress her scalded nether
cheeks. "My, you are marking up nicely. Twenty more to go with this first
set."

There was another vicious crack of leather, this time catching her thighs
fully, and Mary howled as the agony of it chewed into her.

"That's it," Master Boyden cheered. "Wail like that some more. You've got me
hard as a rock just listening to you."

It felt so much more than fifty before he dropped the strap onto the bed
beside her and unfastened the front of his pants. He wasn't any less
punishing as he shoved himself inside her, grinding his hips into her wealed
and wounded flesh, winding his hand in her braid and pulling back her head
so he could more clearly hear her cries.

"Cry all you want," he grunted, battering her womb with the force of his
thrusts. "You are as wet as a fountain. Your body remembers the hurt. It
likes it."

And he must have been right, because Mary's orgasm was so powerful that it
left her weeping, and he had only just begun to pump in and out when it
overwhelmed her. The leather restraints squeaked as she strained in their
hold, her entire body devoured by a pleasure that seemed to come from out of
nowhere.

"God damn, you are tight!" Boyden growled. He swatted her hips twice as he
rode her, and made her come again before he was through, pushing hard and
deep before withdrawing from her body to spill his seed on her battered
flanks.

He took his time rubbing the milky fluid into her burning skin before
picking up the strap again. When he touched the length of it to Mary's lips,
she kissed it, and he took her back to Hell all over again.



******************************************************

This story is copyrighted © Copyright 2003 by Denise Hall and ABCD
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