6 comments/ 31316 views/ 10 favorites Pound of Flesh By: WordsNotDeeds You realise that there must be a catch, but what is a girl supposed to do when she's strapped to a chair, has a vibrator buzzing maddeningly between her legs and a large cock buried half-way down her throat? You can feel your hair sticking to your forehead, damp with sweat from your exertions. All your frantic pleas to finally be allowed to come are scrambled in an incoherent groan around his girth and the only thing you manage to get out of your mouth is a substantial quantity of drool which ends up down your exposed cleavage. No wonder his proposition is tempting, even if you have already turned it down twice. He pulls his cock out of your mouth and gives you a few seconds to gasp for air. But your helpless excitement has reached such extremes that you are unable to get your breath back properly. He takes you firmly by the chin and raises your head until you are looking him in the eye. 'Last chance to accept my offer, princess,' he says, with that maddening smirk on his face. It's just as well you have tight straps around your wrists or you would probably lash out at him right now, which would lead to all sorts of horrible consequences. But there is nothing you can do except listen and try to ignore the vibrations pulsing into your clit. 'I can turn the vibe up a setting or two and get you off right now,' he continues. 'But if you say "no" again, my cock goes back into that talented mouth of yours until I come down your throat, then I leave you in that chair like that for at least another couple of hours, and nothing you can do will persuade me to touch the controls.' You almost accept the offer without hesitation, such is your desire for release, but some remnant of sanity inside your addled mind reminds you not to be hasty. 'Tell me again what you want in exchange,' you gasp. 'An evening with you as my property on a date of my choosing. My rules, my decisions, no questions asked, no objections considered,' he replies. 'Will you get to choose what I wear?' you ask, unsure otherwise how his suggestion differs from the way he is treating you right now, or on most other occasions when you get into the bedroom, for that matter. 'Your clothes, or the lack of them, will be just the start of it,' he tells you. You wait for a couple of seconds. The only sound you can hear is the buzzing of the vibrator and you fervently wish that assaulting your eardrums was its only effect on you. Finally you can take it no longer and your resistance snaps. 'Yes!' you almost shout. 'Do whatever the fuck you want with me! Just let me come right now!' He is as good as his word. Within seconds you are screaming your fulfilment to the heavens and it is only shortly afterwards, as you are recovering your breath and your composure, that you start to consider the consequences. ....... Two weeks later he picks you up. You know he is taking you to a hotel for the night and, as instructed, you have packed nothing but your toiletries and make-up. Your case is lying open and almost empty in your bedroom. You know that he is planning to fill it for you with clothes of his choice. He tells you to wait in the living room while he does so, leaving you unaware of what you will be wearing. When he emerges with the case dangling from his hand, the smirk has returned to his face. You dread to think what he has chosen, but you are a woman of your word and there is no backing out now. He drives you to the hotel and you wait while he checks in. The ride upstairs in the lift takes a surprising amount of time and you guess that he has splashed out on a room high up in the building. Your suspicions are confirmed when you go through the door and find yourself in a plush suite with a remarkable view over the rooftops. You can't help noticing, with approval, the huge size of the bed, but you doubt that you will be using it to get much sleep later. He tells you to shower and you know better than to disobey. Your time as his property has begun. You emerge from the bathroom a short time later in the hotel's robe, but he makes you remove it immediately. This was hardly unexpected and you shrug it off your shoulders. You stand naked before him, awaiting further instructions. He hands you a glass of water. You take it but wonder why he has given it to you. Is it some game he is playing? You were hardly anticipating him making you spend your evening drinking water! 'Drink it,' he tells you. You do so as quickly as you can, but your curiosity gets the better of you as you finish. 'Can I ask why?' you ask. 'Because I'm about to give you your first course of the evening and I don't want you to drink anything else until we reach the restaurant, so you can savour the taste,' he replies. 'The water will stop you from getting thirsty. Now come here.' You gulp as the knowledge sinks in that he is about to make you suck him off before you even leave the hotel. He really is treating you as his slave, but you do as he says without complaint. He sits down in a comfortable chair and you move to stand directly in front of him. In spite of your better judgement, your body is betraying you once again and you can feel yourself getting aroused at being treated so degradingly. You'd hate for him to know, but you can't wait to get his cock inside your mouth. He seems to sense your mood, because he does not make you kneel immediately, but slides his hand between your legs and seeks out your clit with his practised fingers. You close your eyes and take a deep breath as you feel him make contact with your sensitive flesh. You can tell that you are already slick and ready for his attention. It takes little more than a command from him for your body to respond in this way, and he's already done more than that tonight. Before long he has you moaning and well on the way to climax, but he breaks off and leaves you frustratingly short, before pressing his hand on your head to indicate that he wants you to drop to your knees. You do so immediately and are confronted by his already hard cock, which he has taken out of his clothing. You open your lips to receive it. Ten minutes of dedicated service later and you have dutifully swallowed the first course he promised you with the enthusiasm you would have shown for a dish prepared by a high-end chef. You have just finished sucking him dry when he makes you rise again to your feet. He makes you spread your legs, reaches between them once more and continues exactly where he left off, wasting no time in drawing the climax from you. You have barely got your breath back when he speaks again. 'Before you get dressed, I want to put this little thing inside you,' he announces with a casual air. You look at what he is holding and notice that the "little thing" is a butt plug which looks far too big for you to accommodate. You laugh out loud. 'You've got to be kidding!' you say in disbelief. 'You can argue with me all you like, princess,' he replies unperturbed. 'It won't make any difference to me. But later on tonight, when I've got your naked arse at my mercy, I'll remember every bratty word which has come from your mouth over the course of the evening and use it to help me decide how hard, for how long and with what to spank you. Now do I have to bend you over by force and tie you in place, or are you going to do it willingly and let me put this plug inside you?' You'd hate for him to know it, but you can feel butterflies in your stomach as you listen to the vivid word picture he paints and they are caused by excitement as well as by trepidation. But for now you decide to keep the brattiness under control. You turn away from him, move your legs apart and bend forward as far as you can, placing your hands on your knees and sliding them well down your shins to give him access to your tightest hole. Your ballet teacher always used to praise your flexibility when you were a little girl, but you don't suppose she ever anticipated that you would use it for this purpose. He steps up behind you and you wait with baited breath for the invasion of your tightest hole, but instead you feel him drawing what feels like little lines on each of your butt cheeks in turn. You can't help yourself from looking up at him. He is putting a permanent marker pen back in his pocket. 'What are you doing?' you ask. 'Starting a tally for the evening,' he replies nonchalantly. 'We're at one orgasm each so far. You might need it as a reminder that I'm a kinder owner than you think.' For some reason, the knowledge that he will be using you as a living account sheet of your climaxes makes you feel even more degraded than the imminent penetration of your arse. You should be grabbing your clothes and running for the hills, but already you can feel the moisture growing again in your loins. Having marked you, he turns his attention to your rear opening. You feel his finger exploring the intimate area. He is rubbing in some lubricant to prepare you for the toy. You wait patiently while he greases you up like a choice piece of meat. He seems in no rush, but when he is finally satisfied you feel him pressing the cold metal of the plug against your puckered skin. You brace yourself for its entry, but nothing can stop you from gasping audibly when he pushes it past your body's resistance and slides it home. It hurts for you to accommodate it, but you know well enough by now that if pain was a turn-off for you, you'd have dumped him long ago. You hold the position and gradually you feel the pain subside a little, although the intense discomfort remains. You hope that it will die down as the evening progresses, but the thought that you will have to sit on a restaurant seat with the plug pressing into you does not make you feel very confident. He gives you a playful slap on the rump and tells you to stand up. 'Time to get you dressed,' he says. You wonder what on earth he has selected for you. You half expect to spend the evening in an obscenely tightschool uniform or a gold bikini and chains, so it comes as something of a relief when he reaches into the case and pulls out a tiny black dress which you haven't had the courage to wear for ages. It is short and tight, but at least you won't look like something from a low-end porn film. He hands it to you. 'Underwear?' you ask, more in hope than in expectation. He doesn't even dignify this with a reply. He just laughs to himself and waits for you to put on the dress. Once you have done so you can't resist glancing at yourself in the mirror. It's even shorter than you remember, but at least it still fits. You are not one for boasting, but you can't help thinking that you look like sex on legs. But he isn't finished. He hands you a pair of black strappy heels which you do not recognise. He must have bought them specially for the occasion. They look deliciously expensive and must be at least five inches high. You grimace in anticipation of your sore feet, but you know it's useless to argue. You slip your feet into them and buckle them up with difficulty. It's not easy to bend in the dress, especially with a substantial plug up your arse. The final thing he gives you is a string of pearls to go round your neck. You can't help grinning at the lewd suggestiveness of his choice. 'Earrings are up to you,' he says, grinning back. He tells you to go to put on the jewellery and your make-up and settles himself in the easy chair to wait while you get yourself ready. You take some time doing so. If you're going to look like his whore for the evening, at least you want to be a classy one. When you are done, he prepares himself for dinner in an annoyingly short amount of time, considering how effortlessly handsome he looks when he emerges from the bathroom. But you decide to be thankful for small mercies, because at least you know he will look like he deserves a sex slave, in case any casual observer happens to glance your way and guesses your role for the night. You leave the room on his arm to head for the restaurant, struggling to keep up with him in the heels. As you descend in the lift, you can still taste the bitterness of his seed on your tongue and you remember that it is exactly the flavour he wanted you to be experiencing. Everything about this evening is going according to his plan. ....... On your return, one amazing meal and a few glasses of excellent wine later, he parades you like a trophy across the hotel lobby. You can feel people's eyes on you and you wonder whether they can see that you are wearing no underwear. You know that you look as if you have poured yourself into the dress and you can feel the strain on your feet as you walk beside him in your heels. Your body is responding in its usual way to being treated like this, and you can feel the familiar sticky sensation building between your legs as you think of what is to come. His hand rests proprietorially on your arse and nobody who is looking in your direction can be in any doubt that he is going to have his wicked way and much more with you as soon as he gets you up to the room. You wonder if the ones who suspect that he is paying you for your services would be shocked to know that he owes you absolutely nothing for this experience. On the contrary, it is you who owes him. While you wait for the lift, his hand roams over your arse, caressing you with unconcerned lewdness. You have a feeling he will be treating your flesh less gently before long. Through the tightly stretched fabric of your dress, you can feel his fingers seeking out the plug which has remained lodged between your butt cheeks since he put it there earlier. You expected the discomfort to grow less as time went on, but somehow the intruder feels as if it has grown bigger by the minute and now you feel as if you're in danger of being split in half by it. But you are still mercifully intact when the lift arrives and you enter it with him. Nobody else joins you, and he turns in your direction as soon as the door has closed. His smirk returns as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a set of cuffs, which he dangles in front of you. You follow them with your eyes as you imagine a rabbit might follow the movement of a snake. 'Not a chance!' you mutter, summoning the little bit of resistance you have in you. He remains cool in the face of your opposition. 'I think that's another bratty comment for the record,' he tells you. 'Now are you going to let me put these on you gracefully or am I going to have to do it by force? I'm happy either way, but if you resist, I can think of other things I might need to add as well.' He pulls a ball gag from his other pocket. You shiver at the prospect of having him restrain you forcefully, and it's not entirely from fear, but you remember your agreement and turn away from him with resignation, placing your hands behind your back as you do so. You feel him attaching the cuffs and listen for the ominous click as he secures them tightly to turnyou into his helpless prisoner. They feel snug on your wrists, as if they were made just for you. He finishes just as the lift comes to a standstill and the doors slide open. 'What if somebody sees us?' you hiss at him. 'Then you'll just have to make up a story about a silly little girl agreeing to all of this because she was so desperate for her master to allow her to come,' he replies, unflustered. He places his hand on your back and steers you out of the lift, guiding you down the corridor towards the room. You hold your breath at the thought that somebody might see you like this, but he seems entirely relaxed. It occurs to you that passers-by would probably question the legitimacy of a muscular man marching a bound female around half his size and wearing an almost indecent outfit to a room for the night. But nobody emerges from any of the rooms, although the thought that there is almost certainly CCTV in the corridor occupies your thoughts. Apparently you'll be providing some entertainment for the hotel security guards as well as for him. You have just reached your room and he is sliding his card through the reader when another door opens nearby. An older couple emerge. Instinctively you shuffle round so that you are facing towards them in the hope that they will not notice your cuffed hands behind your back. It seems that you have succeeded because they only nod politely in your direction and turn to walk away. You breathe a sigh of relief. But he has other ideas. 'Have a lovely evening,' he calls in their direction. They turn towards you once again. You notice the woman's eyes fixing themselves on you. 'Thank you very much,' the man replies. 'You too.' He seems oblivious to your situation, but the woman has definitely spotted that there is something unusual going on. She looks up and holds your gaze for a second or two before they depart. There is clearly something complicated going on in her mind behind those eyes, but you can't work out quite what it is. There is certainly some amusement and maybe a little sympathy, but you could swear that there is a hint of jealousy as well. But there is no time to dwell on how she feels. He ushers you into the room in front of him, then starts to lowerthe zip at the back of your dress before the door has even clicked shut behind you. As he slides the garment from you without bothering to remove the cuffs, you realise his wisdom in choosing a dress with no straps. You step out of it and he steers you, now naked but for your heels and the string of pearls around your neck, to the bed. You can't help looking in the mirror and noticing, below your imprisoned hands, the twin digits he has marked on your buttocks. You remember the tally he has promised to keep on your flesh as the night progresses and wonder, with some concern, how many orgasms he is planning to wring from your body and how many times he can summon up the energy to expel his seed inside one of your holes. But he doesn't allow you the time to admire the view of your bound form. He pushes you down on the bed, gently but firmly, into a seated position and settles beside you. You can feel the mattress pressing the plug further into your arse as you turn to face him, wondering what he is going to do to you first. You are not surprised to see him taking the ball gag out of his pocket once again. You knew it was only a matter of time before you would be wearing it. 'Your mouth only has one useful purpose and it's already served it for the evening,' he tells you in a matter of fact tone. 'I might need to use it again later, but for now it's better to put it out of action so you don't get yourself into more trouble. You've already made a couple of bratty comments and this will stop you from making any more.' You know that the wise course of action would be to submit meekly, but you just can't help yourself. 'You'd be surprised how much noise I can make with that thing in my mouth!' you say defiantly. He laughs. 'The way you're going with the backchat, you won't be able to sit down for days,' he replies. 'The gag might not stop you from making a noise, but at least it should stop me from understanding what you say for a while. Eventually we won't need it any more. I'm planning to push you so hard tonight that by the time I've finished with you, you'll have forgotten all your words and the only sounds you'll be able to make will be moans and whimpers as you beg me for mercy.' You feel a delicious shudder go up your spine at the thought of what he describes and this time you offer no opposition. You open your mouth obediently as he holds the gag up and you feel him inserting it past your teeth until it feels as if it is occupying every millimetre of space. It forces your jaw painfully wide, but you make no attempt to remove it as he pulls the straps behind your neck and buckles them tight, lifting your tresses out of the way delicately as he does so. Pound of Flesh You hate being gagged. The taste of the ball is unpleasant and already you are having to resist your instinctive reflex to try to expel the intruder from your mouth, but you do your best to relax your muscles and accept it gracefully. It helps that even you have to admit that you look incredibly hot as you gaze once more into the mirror. With your hair and make-up done nicely, the suggestive string of pearls around your neck and the expensive heels on your feet, you could easily pass for a rich young heiress having a night of illicit fun with a selected lover. But the fact that your body has been stripped naked, your wrists enticingly imprisoned behind your back and your mouth brutally filled by the gag, reveals that things are out of your control. Perhaps the heroine you are picturing has been kidnapped into a life of sexual slavery. Your mind starts to take a flight of fantasy as you imagine that this could be your first encounter with your new owner. He would keep you bound and gagged because you are not yet broken to his will, but he would plan to use and abuse you until you accept your situation and no longer need the restraints. You wonder how much resistance you would put up before succumbing to the inevitable and accepting your fate. You suspect that you have a fair bit of fight in you. But he doesn't leave you to fantasise for long. 'Time to face the music, princess,' he says ominously. He takes you by the arm and helps you to your feet. He spins you away from him and releases the cuffs from your wrists. This comes as something of a surprise. You had expected to stay in bondage for quite some time. 'Don't get your hopes up,' he says, reading your thoughts. 'We just need a change of position and a change of restraints to match.' He leaves you standing and moves once again to your case. This time he takes out a handful of silk scarves, all of which you recognise. It doesn't take long for you to realise that they will be put to a different use than the one you intended for them this evening. Some of them were quite expensive and you feel a little anxious that they will get ruined, but the gag in your mouth prevents you from complaining. You don't suppose he would pay any attention, in any case. 'On the bed, on your back,' he orders abruptly. You notice that he doesn't bother with niceties like "please" and reflect that there would be little point. A few polite words would hardly disguise the reality that you are nothing but his toy. You do as he tells you and settle yourself back on the covers with your head resting on the luxurious pillows. 'Arms wide,' he instructs. You spread your arms apart and grasp the conveniently placed posts at the head of the bed. You wonder if he inspected the room first to check that the furniture was suitable for his nefarious plans. He knots a scarf around one of your wrists and then ties it to the post, before moving around the bed and treating the other in exactly the same way. Then he steps back to admire his handiwork. You lie, arms spread wide like a sacrifice, and look him in the eyes. They have a devilish glint in them. The naked lust he feels for you is practically exuding from his person. You know that he is going to make you sweat and suffer, but you feel wanted like never before and your body can't wait to be taken in all the ways he desires. If he offered you the chance to let you out of the agreement right now, you know you'd turn him down without a second's thought. He strips off his clothes without any hurry, enjoying the view of your body as he does so. When he removes his shirt you enjoy the view of his strong chest. You long to run your hands over those muscles, but you know that he will allow you to do no such thing. When he pulls down his trousers you can see his erection creating a large bulge in the front of his underwear and you feel a sense of exultation washing over you because you have this effect on him, even though he came in your mouth just two or three hours earlier. When he removes his underwear, you watch his hard cock spring free and you want it inside you. You wonder how long he will make you wait for the pleasure of accommodating him. He takes a couple more of the scarves and binds one around each of your ankles, above the straps of your shoes. You wonder if the bonds will reach the corners of the bed, but you soon find out that he has other plans. Instead of securing your feet to the foot of the bed, leaving you in a spread-eagle position, he lifts your legs until they are pointing vertically into the air. Then he holds the ends of the scarves and pulls on them, continuing to move your legs in the same direction and bending your body in the process. You shift your position down on the bed as much as your bondage allows because this is beginning to be a test of the flexibility in which you take such pride. He is relentless in his efforts and by the time he is done you are bent almost double and feeling the strain. Your ballet teacher definitely never anticipated this! But without allowing you any respite, he ties one scarf to the board at the head of the bed, securing your ankle tightly, and then the does the same with the other other, leaving you restrained in this uncomfortable, helpless and incredibly vulnerable position. 'Do you remember what I said earlier about having your naked arse at my mercy?' he reminds you. Then he continues, without waiting for you to reply through the gag, 'Now I just have to decide how much of a punishment you deserve before I replace that plug with my cock.' He leaves you on the bed and goes to his case. While you wait, you wriggle slightly, but with no more success than an upturned bug. He has trussed you so that you can barely move. You cannot see the mirror from your position and you can only imagine what you look like from his perspective. But the thought of him looking your bound form up and down, enjoying the sight of your plugged arse on display and your heels pointing skywards, only turns you on all the more. When he returns, he is carrying two items. He holds them both in front of your eyes, which widen when you see what they are. The first is a large and powerful looking vibrator. You are hardly surprised at its arrival. But the other is a vicious looking cane, and it is this which causes your eyes to bulge. You had expected a tough spanking, but you can imagine all too vividly the devastating effects his weapon will have on your tender, exposed flesh. He balances both the cane and the vibrator across your body, just below your breasts, and rests his hand on your arse. 'Pleasure and pain,' he says simply, as if you needed any indication of what is to come. There is nothing you can do to stop him, so you lie back on the bed and make yourself as comfortable as you can to prepare yourself for the imminent onslaught. He slides his hand between your legs, which have been forcibly parted by your bondage, as well as being harshly bent back above you, and targets your clit with his fingers. You are already slick with arousal at being reduced to a state of slavery, and you see a smile forming on his lips as he realises just how easy it will be for him to make you scream for the orgasms he has promised. But you know that he is going to make you suffer before giving you any sort of fulfilment, so it comes as no surprise when he picks up the cane and gives a couple of half-hearted practice swishes at the air. You can feel it hissing ominously as it picks up speed. 'I was just going to use my hand on you,' he explains. 'I only brought this cane along on the off-chance, but since you've been so bratty, I think it's exactly what you deserve.' You close your eyes and wait for the inevitable agony to begin, but instead he picks up the vibrator in his left hand, switches it on, and rests it on your stomach so that it is pressing gently on your clit. You moan involuntarily at the sudden stimulation, but his only response is to press the toy a little harder against your sensitive spot. He keeps this up for a short time, allowing your moans to grow in volume as you allow the waves of pleasure to wash over you and you relax into the sensation as well as your bonds will allow. The vibe is doing such a good job that you soon forget all about the cane in his other hand. But you get a harsh reminder when you hear the familiar hissing once again and this time, a split-second later, it makes contact with the exposed flesh of your butt with an audible snap. You yelp with shock initially, but your sound turns into a howl of protest as the stinging pain sets in just a moment later. He has spanked you with his hand several times before and that was hard enough, but already you can tell that the impact of the cane will be far more painful and far tougher to endure. The fact that he is not going to give you any choice in the matter only makes the anticipation more difficult to bear. He presses the vibrator a little more firmly against you and swings the cane once again. The pain of the impact does not come as such a surprise this time, so you manage to contain your noise with some difficulty, but already you can feel your eyes beginning to water. A third blow lands on your bare buttocks and by the time of the fourth, you can remain quiet no longer. You squeal with impotent, undignified protest at the unjust punishment he is inflicting on you. With futile effort you strain at your bonds, but although the silk scarves feel soft against your wrists, they hold you in place as effectively as iron manacles and you cannot prevent your arse from remaining an alluring target for him to hit. He seems to sense that you are struggling to cope and he stops striking you for a while, focusing instead on the vibrator. Before long your sounds have returned to excited moans around the gag and you can tell that your second orgasm of the evening is close. But of course, he reminds you that he is not giving you an easy ride with a fifth blow of the cane, forcing you to jerk against your restraints and squeal once again. 'I don't want my princess to come too early,' he says, switching off the vibrator, apparently oblivious to your frustrated whines. 'You need to learn your lesson about being bratty first.' Even in your unenviable state you have the presence of mind to reflect that he is treating you like anything but a princess, but he doesn't give you much time to question his choice of language. He lands another couple of strokes in quick succession without any pleasure to mitigate the torture. By now he is turning you into a quivering wreck. Your eyes are streaming freely and you can look down to see the sweat standing out on the skin of your naked breasts. You are aware that you are making the bedclothes damp from your exertions, but the vision of his stiff cock as you turn your head sideways gives you a good indication that the whole thing is only turning him on the more. Again you ask yourself what sort of man you have chosen for yourself. With all your dignity well and truly gone, you resort to begging him for mercy, but all you can manage is a muffled stream of gibberish because of the stifling gag. It doesn't help that he returns the fingers of his left hand to your clit. It's not as effective as the vibrator, but it's distracting enough to render your communication even less comprehensible because it merges into groans of helpless arousal. 'I don't understand a word you're saying,' he tells you, with a tone of mock apology which contrasts strikingly with the hiss as he swings the cane again. All your sounds degenerate into nothing but a cocktail of submissive frustration. You are trying to speak, but even without the gag, you are not sure which type of release you would beg him to give you. Your mind is trying to convince you to rebel against his abuse, but your body is screaming to be allowed the climax it craves. Meanwhile the pain of the discipline with the cane has long since gone past being restricted to the moments when he strikes you. By now it is a continuous burning in your arse. You can only imagine what your cheeks look like. You feel as if your flesh has been cut to ribbons. He seems to be able to read your thoughts. 'Such a pretty pattern,' he comments as he looks at your buttocks appraisingly. 'Almost ready for me to fuck. But first I think I'd better let you come.' He picks up the vibrator again, switches it on and holds it to your clit, harder than ever this time. Within seconds you are screaming out as the first waves of orgasm hit you hard and you ride the crest in helpless ecstasy. But he still has something in store to make it even stronger, because he uses the cane to hit you once again. This time you don't even notice an increase in pain. Instead the impact just seems to push you over the edge into the abyss. Involuntarily, you arch your back as far as your bonds will allow, your screams hit an even higher volume and your brain loses all semblance of coherence as you can do nothing but feel at a greater intensity than ever before for several seconds. You lose all sense of normality. It feels as if your entire body is nothing but a collection of nerve endings, all tuned to the most sensitive setting possible as you experience the most incredible orgasm of your life. When you recover some degree of coherent thought you are still lying on the bed in exactly the same bent position, but he has abandoned both the cane and the vibrator and is using the pen to record another mark on one of your butt cheeks. You wince in anticipation of the pain when the pen comes into contact with the welts which you know the cane must have left, but evidently he has left a spot unblemished, because the ink brings you no additional suffering. 'Two-one to you,' he says, matter-of-factly. 'Time for me to equalise.' You reflect that it's typical of a man to turn a sexual encounter such as this into something resembling a football match, but there is little you can do to object as he reaches for the end of the plug which has remained inside you throughout his assault and starts to pull it from your arse. The toy causes every bit as much discomfort in coming out as it did in going in, but the discomfort is nothing compared to the humiliation of being plugged and unplugged at his pleasure, as if you are merely a convenient set of holes for him to treat exactly as he likes. But you are forced to reflect that as a result of the bargain which you so foolishly accepted, that is exactly what you are for him this evening. He can do whatever he likes with any part of your body. After a fair degree of pulling, the plug finally pops out of your stretched hole. He lays it to one side and starts to apply some lubricant with his finger once again. If anything, this is even more degrading. You know that he is just preparing you for his own entry. But it's probably the closest you will get to tender foreplay tonight. Eventually he is satisfied. He leaves your legs tied above your head and you realise that the strain of the position raises your arse off the bed and gives him the angle he needs. Even so, when he kneels in position it becomes clear that your hole is not high enough to give him easy entry. Somehow, and you have no idea exactly why, you find yourself thrusting your arse upwards to make his life easier. Surely no woman has ever accepted her submission as fully as this? Your limbs are trussed tightly to the bed, your arse is still stinging from his punishment and your whole body is still tingling from its orgasm, yet you are trying to get your butt into the perfect position for him to fuck. Sometimes you are a mystery even to yourself. When he is satisfied, he pushes himself inside you with a grunt. Your rear entrance is tight and you gasp audibly as you can feel him stretching you even wider than the plug, but you grit your teeth and do your best to accommodate him without complaint. With some effort he gets himself properly inside, but you only begin to appreciate the discomfort when he starts to thrust against you. You struggle to brace yourself as well as you can so that your body remains still as he moves back and forth. You know that it will only last longer if you cannot hold your position. Even so, you feel like a ragdoll as he builds momentum, and a particularly masochistic ragdoll at that. But he is clearly getting somewhere. He starts to groan as he approaches his own climax and you see him close his eyes as you look up through your splayed legs into his face. Finally he grunts his satisfaction aloud as you feel his cock pulse and expel its seed inside your butt and you know that the job is done. Yet it feels as if his orgasm will go on forever as his whole body remains tense for some time and his cock continues to spurt. Finally he relaxes his muscles and slides out of you with a gasp to match your own. You relax and close your eyes as you listen to his breathing gradually return to normal. When he has recovered, you feel him evening the scores with a mark on your other butt cheek and you wonder what is to come next. 'Time for a shower,' he says. 'We need to get you cleaned up.' You could not agree more. Even the most casual of observers could hardly fail to spot your dishevelled hair, smeared make-up and perspiring skin, not to mention the trickle of his juices which you can feel leaking from your arse. He removes the shoes from your feet and unties your ankles from the head of the bed. Gingerly, wincing from the pain and stiffness, you return your bent body to its natural position with a sigh of relief, waiting for him to release your arms and take you to the bathroom. But then he disappears. You can hear him rummaging around in the wardrobe in the corner of the room and you wonder what the hell he is doing. What sort of man goes searching in the cupboard when he has his woman trussed up on the bed and committed to obeying his every whim? But when he returns you get your answer and with a gulp you realise exactly what sort of man he is. Right now you would give good money to replace him with somebody else. He is carrying a coat hanger. Of course, there is nothing intrinsically disturbing about that, although it might seem a little odd in the circumstances, but you notice immediately that it's one of those coat hangers with the pegs attached to the lower bar for holding clothes. It doesn't take any time for you to realise, with a shudder, that using the pegs to hang up his clothes couldn't be further from his mind. Instead he is clearly planning to use them on your nipples. You have always been inclined to the submissive side of things, although he brings it out of you more than anyone else ever has, and you are not averse to taking pain in the interests of sexual arousal, as your performance so far this evening amply demonstrates. But you have never liked having your nipples clamped. Maybe your buds are more sensitive than other women's. Whatever the reason, you would do a great deal to avoid it. But the expression on his face tells you that he is not planning to give you much choice, and with your hands still bound, there is absolutely nothing you can do to stop him. He clambers onto the bed, still naked, and kneels astride your upper body, holding the hanger ready to clip the pegs into position. You squirm frantically, knowing that resistance is futile, but unable to accept your fate. He uses his knees to grip you firmly and hold you in place, and positions the clamps over your nipples before allowing them to spring shut on their targets. What feels like a jolt of electricity shoots through your entire body and you cannot stop yourself from screaming at the top of your voice. In spite of the gag you imagine that the entire hotel must hear you. The fact that nobody arrives suggests that the sound-proofing must be of an excellent standard. You'll have to remember to recommend it to the next evil bastard who wants to tie up and torture his girlfriend with no fear of disturbance. Pound of Flesh Your need to breathe forces your noise to subside, but the pain does not go away and you continue to whimper pathetically in his direction, begging inaudibly for release. But he pays no attention to your pleas for mercy. Instead he unties one of your hands. As soon as it is free, you try to use it to remove the pegs, but he holds it in a vice-like grip while he releases your other wrist. When he is gripping that one in a similar manner, he manhandles you like a suspect resisting arrest onto your front. This forces you to lean on the coat hanger and increases the pain in your sensitive breasts. You struggle but he is too strong for you and before you can escape he connects your wrists tightly once more behind your back with the cuffs. With you securely restrained again, he turns his attention to your gag. He unbuckles the strap at the nape of your neck and helps you to push the ball out of your mouth. Your jaw aches from the prolonged presence of the intruder and you work it back and forth for a few seconds while he sits you up on the bed. You can feel your abused arse stinging where it makes contact with the bedclothes. He lifts the string of pearls over your head, then holds a glass of water to your lips and you drink deeply. The removal of the gag and the water help you to recover some of your strength, although the harsh bite of the pegs is going absolutely nowhere. He can hardly get any meaner, so you throw caution to the winds and run the risk of antagonising him. 'Wanker!' you manage to snap in his direction. His laugh in response suggests that he isn't upset. You are almost disappointed. 'Guilty as charged,' he says. 'But if you think that calling me nasty names is going to distract me from my plans for you, then you've got another think coming!' He helps you to your feet, takes the coat hanger by the hook and uses it to lead you to the bathroom. Desperate to avoid inflicting any more punishment on your poor nipples, you stumble after him, thankful at least that he has removed your crazy heels. At least you can keep up now that you have bare feet. Once inside the bathroom, he switches on the shower and turns up the heat setting. Soon the cascade of water is steaming up the room. When he is content that the temperature is warm enough he thrusts you under the flow. You gasp as the hot water stings your skin, but soon you become accustomed to it. He joins you in the shower and takes the coat hanger by its hook once again. As if every single fitting in the hotel was designed to suit his cruel purposes, he finds that one of the shower attachments is at just the right height for what he wants. He turns you to face it and although he has to pull upwards on the hanger, bringing a gasp of anguish from your lips, he manages to get the hook over it so that he can safely let go and stand back to enjoy the view. You are left effectively hanging by your clamped nipples and the only way you can avoid pulling on them intolerably is by going right up on your tiptoes. You almost wish you could have your shoes back to support your weight. For the third time this evening, you are reminded of your old ballet lessons, except your teacher, strict as she might have been, never went as far as attaching clothes pegs to your nipples to force you to remain en pointe! With you in a state of semi-suspension, he sets about washing you, reaching around to cover your entire body. There is a tenderness about the way he applies soap to your skin, which belies the predicament in which he has put you. Methodically, he washes away all the traces of your encounter, tracing gently over the lines where he struck you with the cane. Even so, you cannot help wincing as he touches the damaged flesh. When he is satisfied that you are clean, he keeps you attached to the shower but nudges your legs apart and reaches between them from his position behind you. In spite of yourself, your body betrays you once again and you can feel yourself warming to his nimble touch. Before long you can sense your own juices mingling with the water which rains down over your head and you start to moan once again with something other than pain. He does not hold you back this time, but drives you swiftly to your orgasm. The thought crosses your mind that with your wrists cuffed, you have no more say in the matter than a piece of livestock being driven to market by the farmer. To complete the degrading image, before long you are squealing with excitement, which is made all the more intense by his absolute disregard for your dignity. He darts his finger back and forth over your aroused clit with great skill until you cry out in helpless lust. With the gag removed, you are free to make all the noise in the world, and you feel as if you do not fall far short of that standard. When you are right on the edge, he speaks. 'Come for me,' he tells you. As if your body was built to obey him, your latest orgasm crashes over you. Why on earth you should respond so strongly to a man who has bound, caned and now clamped your protesting body you will never know, but your mind is not being given the time to ponder the question. It is lost in a submissive fog as it succumbs to its third climax of the night. As you come down from the high you feel him releasing the pegs from your nipples. Briefly this increases your pain as you feel the blood flowing back to your sore buds. By the time you have recovered your composure he has turned you to face him. 'My turn,' he says, pushing down on the top of your head. You kneel obediently before him in the shower, noticing that his cock is already stirring. You wonder how on earth he is managing to find the stamina to get hard again, but he doesn't leave you unoccupied to wonder for long. With your hands still imprisoned behind your back and the hot water still cascading around you, he takes you by the hair and thrusts his cock into your mouth, which you open to receive him. In spite of the way he has treated your body, you feel a triumphant frisson of power as you sense him stiffening between your lips. You cannot help but want to bring him pleasure. So you go to your task with enthusiasm, bobbing your head up and down in the honourable tradition established by every bound girl who is forced to give head without the use of her hands. It isn't easy when the water dripping down your face makes it even harder to breathe than normal, but you stick to your task admirably. Either because you do an expert job in spite of your encumbrances, or because he is turned on by having you suck on his cock in bondage, you soon have him groaning loudly. You prepare yourself to swallow his seed. But he has other ideas. Before he comes, he switches off the shower and yanks you to your feet. You can tell how close he is to climax by the forceful way he practically drags you from the bathroom and throws you onto the bed without even bothering to towel you dry. You land on your cuffed hands and he is on top of you immediately. He must realise that it is uncomfortable for you to lie in this way with your hands trapped beneath your back, but he is past caring. He seizes your legs and parts them for his entry. With one thrust he buries himself to the hilt inside your slick pussy. Unlike your tight arse earlier, this hole welcomes him with enthusiasm and allows him to slide back and forth with ease. His haste in entering you means that your legs are bent back once more. You know that you wouldn't be able to maintain this position for many minutes, but it's obvious from his demeanour that he will not last that long. He pushes his right hand beneath your head and grips your hair once more, using it to hold you still and get the leverage he craves. Meanwhile, his left hand is grasping your shoulder so firmly that you are convinced that it will leave another bruise to add to your collection of markings from the evening. He fucks you hard and fast. For all the discomfort of your position, you find it incredibly hot to be used in this way. There is something so intense about his raw, animal passion which makes it incomparably better than any amount of tender love-making. In no time at all, you feel his muscles contracting as he completes the set of your holes in which he has come tonight. He has little seed left to give you after his previous orgasms, but you still take pleasure in the feeling of being filled up by him. Exhausted, he pulls out of you and slumps beside you on the bed, gasping for air. As soon as he has recovered his breath he rolls you onto your side, facing away from him, and you feel him adding one more mark with the pen to each of your butt cheeks. You had assumed that the shower had got rid of them, but apparently not. Thinking back over what has happened, you realise that it's a draw for the evening. You have each had three orgasms and you can tell that he is spent. It's hard to imagine him having sex for a month after this. Yet even so, he is clearly turned on by the sight of your arse. You can only imagine what it looks like after being caned and used as a tally chart, but the length of time he takes to enjoy the view suggests that it must present quite a picture. 'Can't you take these cuffs off?' you ask eventually, growing impatient with the delay. 'All in good time,' he answers. 'I need to record this moment first. We wouldn't want to forget the night when I turned my princess into my helpless little slave girl, would we?' You can think of plenty of reasons why you will never forget it, some more pleasant than others, but he is evidently not to be distracted from his purpose. He gets off the bed and returns with his phone. 'Assume the position,' he orders. You know what this means, but it's not easy with your hands cuffed behind your back. Eventually you manage to get onto your knees on the bed, with your head buried in the covers and your arse in the air on display. You almost expect him to start spanking it again, but he contents himself with taking a picture. Then he releases your wrists from the cuffs and allows you to turn over and lie down in a more comfortable position, although your buttocks still smart and your nipples are still sore. He lies down beside you. 'Would you like to see?' he asks. You suspect he will give you little choice in the matter and nod your head in response. When he holds the phone up for your viewing pleasure, what you see on the screen takes you by surprise. There is no doubt that the position does wonders for the appearance of your arse. It occupies the centre of the screen, round and pert, with your imprisoned hands resting on top of it and your engorged pussy visible underneath. The long red lines across your cheeks look even more shocking than you had imagined, but it is the shorter black ones which draw your attention. There in permanent ink, which even the shower has not managed to remove, is the evidence that the photo does not show an abused woman suffering from the pain inflicted on her, but a sated submissive who has conspired fully in everything which has occurred during the evening. Perhaps he can tell that you are aroused by the image, because he takes the phone from you, wriggles down the bed and slides his head between your legs. As he goes to work with his tongue you reach above your head to grip the bars to which you were bound earlier and allow yourself to be carried away once again with desire. It is only afterwards, when you are lying snuggled against his sleeping form, with a final fourth mark on one of your buttocks, that you allow yourself the time to process everything which has happened. You realise, with a smile to yourself, that if you had the chance to go back in time by two weeks and make the decision again on whether to accept the terms of his offer which put you in this situation, you would do exactly the same thing again. Perhaps you had the best part of the bargain after all.