The Whip

She stood there, waiting patiently as he pulled out the rope. There was nothing for her to say. She held out her hands, letting him bind her wrists, wrapping the hemp round and round until neither freedom nor resistance were options. He tossed the loose end up over the wooden bar and tugged, pulling her arms up and over her head, then stretching her. She stood on tip toes, dangling, heart pounding as he tied off the rope and pulled out the whip. She knew exactly what was coming.

The real question was where he was going to start. He moved behind her, out of her sight, but she knew that made little difference. He was ambidextrous and could switch the whip from hand to hand at will, striking with the same force from both directions. She closed her eyes. There was practically no warning. By the time she heard the whip move through the air, a violent hiss that seemed to split atoms, the leather strap impacted sharply across both breasts. He had targeted her nipples and he hadn't missed. A thin red welt appeared upon both cream colored globes. She screamed as the pain rushed up into her, and she swung, her body reacting involuntarily to the stroke.

The second whip strike landed across her rear, laying a matching stripe to the one on her bosom. Her ass exploded in pain and she thrust her hips forward in desperation, her body seeking relief. She turned to look at him, eyes opening, only barely seeing the swirling whip come sweeping toward her. It impacted upon her back, but curled around her so that the cutting tip of the whip sliced into her right breast, once more striking her nipple.