He pushed her to the ground with a grin and the light grunt of pain she let out was muffled by the bag. Her arms were bound behind her back and the pressure on her shoulders hurt.
"When I want your opinion, caddygirl, I'll ask for it," he said with a laugh.
Her eyes widened as he got out a number four and began to bend down, arm outstretched. Her eyes widened in horror as he tried to balance the ball on her right nipple, and she twisted away with a cry.
The tip of the club was suddenly pressed against the side of her face. "Move any more missy and I might just aim for your cunt, and not the ball."
It was the tenor of the voice that froze both her soul and body and she looked up at him in petrified fear. Once again he settled the ball on the tip of her breast and this time it stayed there. She held her breath, praying that his aim was good, that he could slice the ball off the tip of her bosom with skill. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see it coming as he stood above her, placing the club at her breast.
She felt the aiming swing. There was a loud swoosh in the air, a crack, and then her right breast billowed in pain as it felt as if her nipple was ripped off and sent down course for a hole in one. She writhed on the ground, the tip of her breast burning in hot agony.