CHAPTER IX
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He came over and knelt on the carpet in front of me, parting my
legs, and bending over, he began to lick and tongue my sensitive
clit. Gently, he stimulated and thrilled me with his
knowledgeable tongue, rearousing my desire and bringing me again
to the brink of climax. With one swift, smooth motion, he lifted
himself onto me, and slid his cock deep inside me, stretching me
and filling me up. Slowly, steadily, he began to slide in and
out of me with that hard, pulsating cock, and my body began to
pump in rythm with him. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and
using my hands to cling to his shoulders, I raised my hips off
the floor in order to take every inch of him deep inside me. I
looked up, into his amused eyes, as he took my breath away with
his skilled movements. Faster and faster we began to move, as he
slid even deeper into me. We were both sweating and panting, as
he increased the rythm even more. Suddenly, he grew harder,
bigger in me. With a sudden tensing of his back I felt an
explosion of hot, fiery liquid fill me. As he kept pumping away,
I began to cum. Crying, my inner barriers totally destroyed, I
screamed, “I love you” to this stranger who was holding me
captive. We lay there on the floor for a few moments longer,
with him still inside me, and holding me, while my breathing
calmed and my body relaxed. I looked up and whispered into his
chest, “I love you”. He looked down and sort of smiled. “You’ll
be punished for speaking without permission,” he said. Although
he spoke softly, he had a look on his face that told me he meant
it. I shuddered as I wondered what he could have in mind for my
punishment.
After a short time, he crawled up and putting his wet, sticky
cock into my mouth, told me to lick it clean. I don’t like the
taste or the smell of cum, yet I did as he wished. I no longer
feared that the captivity would last forever – I worried that I
might displease him and he would set me free! I had already
displeased him by speaking without permission.
Standing up, he bent and helped me to my feet. Leading me over
to the cell, he pushed me against it and using handcuffs, cuffed
my hands to different bars, stretching me across the cell. He
went to his wall of devices, and took down a sort of whip, with
several strands of leather which all braided into a handle. He
brought the whip over and gently, softly brushed it against my
face, down across my breasts, around on my back, down to my
bottom. As the whip caressed me gently, he spoke to me, telling
me that since this was my first disobedience, the punishment
would be slight. He told me to close my eyes and keep them
closed until he gave me permission to open them. Frightened, I
did as he commanded. I felt him withdraw from me, and I stood
there, with my arms extended, shivering from both fear and cold.
He told me to open my legs. He said that no matter what, I had
to keep them open, and that if I closed them, I was immediately
to resume the position with them open. I spread my legs wider,
and felt the tension in my arms increase as they were pulled even
farther because of this shift in my position. Without warning, I
felt the whip strike my lower back and bottom. Several distinct,
separate stings indicated that many of the strands had hit in
different areas at once. I squirmed and cried out, closing my
legs and pressing against the cold bars of the cell as I tried to
overcome the pain.
His hand pulling my head back was accompanied by his voice,
harshly commanding me to resume my position. Shuddering, I once
again stood straight, with my legs spread. Another slash of the
whip, this time across my bottom so that the tips of the strands
wrapped around my body to sting my abdomen. Again, I writhed
against the bars and again was commanded to stand up.
Again and again his whip struck my body, sometimes hitting new
flesh, sometimes hitting welts which were already raising across
my body. He whipped my upper back, and the strands wound around
me to my breasts. He seemed to favor my inner thighs and often
aimed it between my legs. Even though I knew pain and felt the
harshness of the whip, I sensed that he was not striking me as
hard as he might have. I felt that he was not using full
strength, and I was thankful. He measured out the strokes,
sometimes slowly, with several long minutes between each stroke,
sometimes two or three or more one right after the other,
without giving me a chance to catch my breath.
I was crying, sobbing, with pain and humiliation, as well as
with the knowlege that I meant nothing to him. How could he
whip me if he loved me as I had thought I loved him? And, since
I had told him that I loved him, and since he had been so gentle
with me didn’t that mean he must love me, too?
