Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 176002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
I flinch when he touches me, tugging at my pussy lips, stretching them. My body melts at his touch and prickles erupt on my skin. My shuddering breaths are loud and so is my yelp when he attaches the first clamp. It stings like a bastard but he doesn’t pause. He fixes another clamp and another, and more. Six altogether, I think, three on each side, and I can feel the pull and the sting and the pain in my head morphing into lusty tingles. I want to tell him that it’s good, so good, but don’t get the chance. I can only groan out my pleasure when he rewards my subservience by rubbing his thick fingers up my slit.
Oh fuck, how it hurts so fucking nicely.
“You’re a wet girl, Holly.”
“It’s because I like it, Master.”
He pulls on the clamps and I yelp again. “These are going to hurt you really badly. You’re going to be wearing them for a long, long time.”
“That’s good, Master.”
He rubs me again, and my clit is so tender I moan. I want his fingers inside me, and I move my hips to urge him on.
“Desperate, aren’t you?” he says.
“Yes. I’m so desperate, Master. I want to give you everything.”
“Let’s see if that holds true.”
The men holding me ease my legs down and the shackles around my wrists tighten
He reaches around my neck and fastens my long hair into a makeshift bun, tucking it under my hood to leave my back on display, ready for a beating.
He steps away, and I hear a fresh set of footsteps approach from behind. Then comes the flick of a whip, and the holder swishes it through the air before it lands. Good strike. The first nasty lash is an excellent one, making me yelp and swing in my shackles. It must leave a lovely pink stripe in its wake, a pretty diagonal blaze between my shoulder blades.
It’s ok, though. I know that I can take a whip like this. I’m already wired.
The rhythm is perfect, almost hypnotic as the flashes of the whip slice and stripe my back. Some of the strikes wrap around my ribcage, and I cry out louder at those, groaning like a true pain slut as the whip wielder manages to land some lashes across my bound tits. Fuck, yes how it hurts. The pain builds, and my cries become more frantic, but I don’t fight, or protest, just accept the lashing I’m given, without a care.
I’m so lost in the grip of subspace that I barely notice my main Master stepping back up in front of me. He slaps my tits hard in their bonds before sliding his hand down between my legs.
“Just a taster, for being a good girl,” he says, and pushes three fingers into my pussy. But I need more. I beg between whip lashes.
“Please, Master. Please give me more.”
Another whip lash and he slides in another finger. But he’s not deep enough. He’s not making it hurt enough. It’s just a tease to counter the screaming pain on my back, and the aching throb of my swollen tits.
The whip cracks stop for a moment, and I hear a shuffle of feet. Master keeps on fingering me, the clamps biting, the pain surreal, and the next round of lashes are harder, and to an entirely different tune. No rhythm, just wild strikes that have me screaming. I must have a criss-crossed mess of red welts across my back, but that doesn’t mean shit to me. Another shuffle of feet and someone else starts up an attack, even harder.
And Master gets rougher, grinding his fingers inside me.
Oh, how I fucking screech.
I let my cries out freely, my fists clenching in my shackles. My breaths are frantic as the whip strikes change angle to wrap around my ribs, and they sear in pain with every blow – but when my swollen tits are caught by the lashes, it’s beyond fire, and flames, and fury. It’s pure unadulterated hell.
How I love hell like this.
I love being tortured by demons and handing them my slutty soul.
I lose track of the whip strikes, and the number of lashes. The sensations become a solid burn, like lightning bolts as the strikes hit, sparking like sin across my back.
Master yanks his fingers from me and I scream again when he lands some solid slaps across my tits.
“More?” he asks, and I nod, uncaring.
“Yes please, Master.”
I can barely breathe when he twists my nipple clamps.
“More?” he asks but I can only scream through gritted teeth as he twists the clamps back and forth.
He twists harder and I squirm in my shackles, blind to just how much he’s torturing me when the first paddle blow strikes across my ass cheeks and sends me forward into the bulk of my master. He’s like a solid wall, big and strong. My nipple clamps press tight to his chest and they send poker hot flashes right through me.