~Subject: FANTASIA: The Ruler  (mf, pain, degradation)
~From: an117711@anon.penet.fi

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                          THE RULER
                      by V.P. Viddler

   Back and forth it swung. Back and forth.

   And Amy's eyes followed it.

   Back and forth.

   She couldn't stop staring at it.

   "No," she said.

   But her breasts rose and fell with her accelerated breathing.
The breasts were round and enticing under the tight woolen dress,
a dark blue conservative garment that could not hide her curvy,
sensual body. Her delicious-looking legs were bare, and as the
dress clung around her knees the shapeliness of her calves made my
heart beat harder.

   But it had been going strong ever since we'd gotten to her
apartment, and Alan had introduced us. "Amy," Alan had said, "this
is Bill. I've told him a lot about you."

   Which was true.

   I said, "How do you do?" but Amy said nothing. Not to me. She
just turned to Alan, and in a flat, despairing voice she said, "You
bastard. Oh, you dirty rotten bastard."

   "Now, Amy darling," Alan said. "You know you don't mean that."

   "I won't," Amy said. "I won't."

   "No?" Alan said.

   "No. Damn you. No. You just want to show off. Humiliate me. In
front of a stranger."

   "That's right," Alan said. "That's just what I want to do."

   "I won't," Amy said. "Damn you. You can't just--not like--I
won't degrade myself for your amusement. I won't!"

   "Okay," Alan said. "Fine. Nobody's forcing you to do anything,
Amy. You know that."

   "Get out," Amy said. "Just go away."

   "Not yet," Alan said.

   "Alan--" And it sounded as though she was holding on in
desperation to her self-control.

   "We'll just sit down awhile," Alan said. "And then we'll go--if
you want us to."

   "I won't," Amy said.

   "Okay," Alan said. "Sit down, Bill." Alan sat on a sofa and I
sat in a chair.

   Amy went across the room and sat facing us in another chair.
"You might as well leave now, Alan," Amy said. "And don't come
back."

   "Right," Alan said.

   And then he took it out.

   It was a thin, stiff wooden ruler, about a foot and a half in
length. Alan took it out and held it.

   "No," Amy said.

   Alan held the ruler loosely in his hand and let it dangle from
his fingers. And then he began to swing it back and forth. Slowly.

   Back and forth.

   Slowly.

   "Don't," Amy said.

   Back and forth.

   Amy looked away. At the wall. At the ceiling.

   "It won't work, Alan," she said. "I don't want this. I don't. I
won't."

   "Okay," Alan said.

   Back and forth it swung.

   Back and forth.

   Amy's eyes flickered.

   Closed.

   Opened.

   "No," she said.

   She was looking at it now. Watching it.

   Watching.

   Back and forth.

   Her eyes moving with it. Staring at it. In fascination.

   And she swallowed.

   And her breasts betrayed her rapid breathing.

   And she said, "Please."

   And couldn't stop watching as it still swung.

   Back and forth.

   And then I could hear her breathing. Louder. Almost panting.

   And I got hard, knowing Alan had been right.

   Hard as a rock.

   And Amy moaned.

   "Damn you!" she said. "No. Not like this. Not--in front of him.
Please. God, please."

   Back and forth and back and forth.

   Amy made a sound like a sob. And then, slowly, so slowly, she
got up. Got up out of the chair and stood, unsteadily. And made a
tiny whimpering sound.

   And Alan still swung the ruler.

   Back and forth.

   "Oh," Amy gasped then. "Oh. Oh, I--"

   Alan said nothing. He was watching her and smiling a tiny smile.

   Back and forth.

   Amy took a step toward him, her eyes fastened hypnotically on
the moving piece of wood. "I--" Amy gasped. "I--I can't--" She took
another step. And another.

   Alan shot me a quick look. A look of triumph.

   Amy saw it. She went red, then white. And stood unmoving for a
moment. But then she moved again. She was whimpering in her throat,
and a big tear now slid down her cheek.

   "All right," Amy said gaspingly. "Oh god--" She was almost to
Alan as he sat on that sofa, watching her approach, letting that
ruler sway back and forth, back and forth. Amy stood watching it,
swaying a bit herself. "I--" Amy said. "I--oh god, I--"

   Alan waited.

   I waited.

   Amy could hardly catch her breath.

   And then Amy closed her eyes and said, "I want it."

   "What?" Alan said. "What was that, Amy?"

   Amy moaned. "I want it, Alan. Oh. I want it. I want it. You--oh.
Damn you. I want it."

   "What, Amy?" Alan said. "What do you want?"

   "Oh god," Amy said. "Do it. Do it to me. Damn you. Do it!"

   "Do what, Amy?" Alan said. "Tell me--and tell Bill--just what
you want me to do."

   "You know," Amy said.

   "But I want you to say it, Amy," Alan said. "Bill wants to hear
you say it, too. Don't you, Bill?"

   "Yes," I said.

   "Look at us, Amy," Alan said. "Open your eyes. That's it. Now.
What is it that you want me to do to you?"

   Amy was trembling. "Alan--"

   "What?"

   "Please, oh god--"

   "What, Amy?"

   Amy hugged her body with her arms and bowed her head.

   "Hit me," she said in a low, shaking voice.

   "I can't hear you, Amy," Alan said. "Talk louder. What did you
say?"

   "Hit me," Amy moaned. "I want it, Alan. Do it. Hit me."

   "You want me to hit you?" Alan said.

   "Oh god," Amy said. "Oh please."

   "Ask me nicely," Alan said.

   "Alan, please. Please."

   "Beg for it," Alan said.

   Amy moaned.

   "Beg me to do it to you, Amy."

   "Please," Amy said chokingly. "I beg you. You bastard. You win,
Alan. I want it, I need it, I'm begging you, I'm--"

   "On your knees," Alan said. "Go down on your knees and ask me
again. Without any name calling."

   "I--"

   "Right now," Alan said as Amy hesitated. "Or I'll go."

   And Amy took a long shaking breath and slowly sank down, slowly
down, down to her knees. And she knelt on the floor in front of
Alan, her head lowered, and Amy said, "Please. I beg you, please do
it, Alan, hit me, oh please, oh god please--"

   And Alan said, "I told Bill I'd have you like this."

   And Amy sobbed.

   "I told you, Bill," Alan said. "Didn't I?"

   "You did," I said.

   "Alan--" Amy said.

   "Look at her," Alan said. "Don't you love it?"

   "God, yes," I said.

   "Amy," Alan said. "You're a sick bitch."

   Amy moaned.

   And Alan said, "Tell us what a sick bitch you are."

   "Alan--"

   "Amy," Alan said. "Do you want me to hit you?"

   Back and forth, back and forth.

   "Yes," Amy gasped.

   "Then tell us," Alan said.

   And Amy said in a small voice, "I'm a sick bitch."

   "Again," Alan said.

   "I'm a sick bitch," Amy said.

   "And you're a dirty cunt, Amy," Alan said. "Right?"

   "Yes," Amy said.

   "Say it."

   "I'm a--I'm a dirty cunt."

   "And a cock-sucking slut," Alan said.

   "And--a--cock-sucking slut," Amy whispered.

   "You'll say anything," Alan said. "Now what will you do, Amy?
What will you do to get me to hit you. Hit you hard. What, Amy?"

   Amy was in agony. An agony of need, and also an agony of shame
and humiliation. It took her a moment to say it, but she did.

   "Anything," Amy said. "I'll do anything."

   "Anything?" Alan said.

   "Alan please--"

   "Amy?"

   "Yes," Amy sobbed. "Yes! Anything. I'll do anything you say,
anything you want. Please do it now, Alan. Please. I want it so
much, I can't stand it. I'll do what you want, you know I will. You
can do anything you want to me."

   "That's good, Amy," Alan said. "Can Bill do anything he wants to
you too?"

   "God," Amy said. "You--yes. Yes, Alan. Please."

   "Tell him," Alan said.

   And Amy turned that agonized so pretty face to me and said, "You
too. You can do what you want to me. I'll do anything you say. Yes.
Oh god yes--" Sobbing and gasping, hating what she was doing,
loving what Alan would do to her.

   "Maybe you should do it now, Amy," Alan said.

   "No!" Amy cried. "Alan, I can't wait, please Alan, please, I'll
be good for you, I'll be so good--"

   "Poor Amy," Alan said mockingly. "But she's probably right, it
will be better afterward. You'll be truly enthusiastic when you're
in pain. Won't you, Amy darling?"

   "Oh god--"

   "All right, Amy," Alan said. "I'm going to hurt you now."

   "Yes! Oh--"

   "Lie down, Amy," Alan said. "On the floor. Right down on the
floor on your stomach. Go on."

   And Amy, gasping, sobbing, did as Alan said, lay down on the
floor on her front, flat out. And her round softly jutting ass was
squirming just very slightly, as though in anticipation. I could
hear her panting.

   And Alan said, "Pull up your dress, Amy. So I can hurt you
properly."

   And Amy, moaning, brought her hands to her skirt, one on each
side, and pulled it up. Up over her legs. Up over her thighs.
Fantastic thighs. And lay there with her legs bared, those long,
fabulously shapely, curvaceous, mouth-watering sexy sensuous legs.
Bare.

   "All the way," Alan said.

   And Amy pulled that skirt up past her hips to her waist. Showing
black panties.

   "Pants off," Alan said.

   And Amy slid her panties down. Slid them down over her ass and
down her thighs and down her calves and off. And lay flat again,
dress around her waist, naked from the waist down. Shaking.
Moaning. Waiting.

   "Arms out," Alan said, and Amy spread her arms up and out, lying
like a sacrificial offering, prostrate on the rug.

   And Alan said, "Now."

   And Amy caught her breath.

   And Alan raised the wooden ruler, holding it high.

   And Amy hissed in fear and anticipation.

   And Alan brought his arm down with such force and swiftness that
I saw just a blur, and then the wood struck against Amy's curving
flesh with a sharp, loud, sickening CRACK!

   And Amy screamed.

   And Alan did it again.

   And Amy screamed again.

   CRACK! Again.

   Howl from Amy.

   WHAP!

   Awful cry from that straining throat.

   Again and again.

   On and on.

   And Amy still lay there. Spread out. Naked below the waist.
Squirming, writhing, twisting sharply with each blow. But staying
as she was.

   WHACK!

   "AAAAIIIEEE!"

   Alan was panting. "Shall I stop, Amy?" Alan said.

   "NO! NO! Please, no, more. Please don't stop, dont-- AUUGGGHH!
AAOOOWW!"

   On and on.

   Alan struck her ass and also her thighs. All down those
wonderful outrageously glorious thighs. Marks on Amy's ass and down
her thighs.

   And Alan stopped.

   "No!" Amy pleaded. "More, god, it hurts so much, I want--"

   "Amy," Alan said. "Suck Bill off."

   I couldn't say anything.

   "Alan--" Amy said.

   "Now, Amy," Alan said.

   "I don't want to," Amy said.

   "I'll stop," Alan said.

   "No!" Amy said.

   "Go to Bill and suck him off," Alan said.

   And Amy slowly, painfully, got up on all fours. And slowly,
painfully, crying now, Amy crawled on hands and knees to my chair.
And stopped in front of me. And, on her knees, opened my fly. And
took out my cock.

   "Alan," Amy said.

   "All fours," Alan said. "Do it right, Amy, and I'll go on
hitting you as you do it. But only if you do it right. I want Bill
to enjoy this. That's why I brought him."

   And Amy got on all fours, and then she lowered her head and took
my cock into her mouth. That mouth was warm and soft and moist. And
Amy took me in all the way. Quivering lips around my flesh. Licking
tongue. Clutching throat.

   And Alan hit her on the ass, hard. Amy howled around me cock,
and I almost came. And then Amy began to suck. Sucking. Yelling.
Alan hitting her. Amy's head bobbing, long dark soft hair touching
my crotch, body jerking at each blow, mouth, lips, tongue.

   I couldn't hold back. I came, spurting hard into Amy's screaming
throat. And Alan said, "Swallow, Amy. Swallow it all." And Amy did,
gulping, swallowing, choking, and then Alan hit her hard and fast,
and Amy collapsed back onto the floor on her back, body spasming
wildly, coming. She flung her legs widely apart, humping her body.

   "Alan!" Amy cried. "Take me! Now!"

   "Open your dress," Alan said.

   "No! Not that! I want you, Alan, please, do it to me, right now,
please--"

   "Open your dress, Amy."

   "Oh god, oh god, oh Jesus," Amy gasped. But she reached for her
collar and did something to a button and then Amy pulled that dress
apart, baring her breasts to us. No bra. Just Amy. Full, round,
firm, quivering breasts with hard, stiff pink nipples. And Alan
raised his hand, and Amy said, "No! No!" and made a halfway motion
as if to cover herself with her hands, and Alan said, "Bill. Hold
her hands." And Amy said, "Oh dear god oh my god oh Jesus I can't
Alan wait I don't think oh Christ--" And I took hold of Amy's hands
and stretched her arms up over her head and pinned her hands down
by the wrists. And Alan said, "Now, Amy." And he cracked the thing
across her breast. And Amy was shrieking and writhing and trying to
pull away and I held her wrists down and Alan sat on her legs and
he hit the ruler across her other breast and Amy was going crazy
with pain.

   "You want it, Amy?" Alan said.

   WHAP!

   "Yeeeaaahhh!"

   And now Alan lay down on top of her and tore his pants open and
took her, hard, brutally, lying between Amy's kicking, flailing
legs, pounding at her body, and still hitting her breasts and now
her thighs and all over that twisting body, and Amy was yelling and
howling and crying, and I was hard again and I crawled up over her
head, pinning her wrists with my knees, and put my crotch above her
face, and jammed my cock into her mouth. And Amy, howling around my
cock, took my gism down her throat again, and Alan shot inside her
jouncing pussy.

   Alan and I had Amy all night long. Hurting Amy. Fucking Amy. Amy
was ours. All ours. Any day... 
