Chapter Thirteen
Erin did not expect the flogging to last so long. Mark didn’t stop when he came inside her; instead, after pulling out he switched to a longer flogger with more tails, each of which had a bead tied to the end. After a few hits, he forced his victim to stand with her arms behind her head, legs spread, and inner thighs facing him.
“Count one hundred lashes aloud. Say the number after each stroke.”
Erin did not dare protest, although the number horrified her, but looked at Mark to indicate she was listening.
“After calling out each number, you will thank me. From now on, you will address me only as ‘Sir’. You are to address me as such whenever I speak to you. Do you understand me?”
Terrified, Erin managed to squeak out, “Y-Yes, Sir.”
“Good. Let’s begin.”
It was worse than Erin had imagined, especially because Mark took his time between hits, carefully letting her body recover just slightly before punishing it again. He spent quite awhile on Erin’s breasts alone. After forty-eight strokes, he began to alternate between her stomach and inner thighs. Having previously been too scared of being hit in the face by the flogger, Erin looked down at her chest for the first time. Her breasts were completely covered with dark red welts and deep purple, splotchy bruises. She wasn’t sure if any new skin was broken, but Erin sobbed nonetheless as she continuing counting for her captor.
The hits stung far more than any prior beating, and soon Erin’s thighs and stomach resembled her breasts, which were now slightly bleeding. Isabel’s efforts had felt absolutely feeble in comparison.
“One hundred … thank you, Sir.”
Mark relaxed his whip hand but to Erin’s shock did not put the whip down. “Turn around. Keep your hands over your head.”
“Yes, sir.” This was easier said than done. Erin’s arms were aching. She wasn’t sure how long the first hundred strokes had taken, and Mark wanted even more? Feeling exhausted but trapped, Erin slowly turned around.
“Bend over, but keep your hands over your head. Show me your ass.”
Erin obeyed, not willing to play games, stretching her back out so as to give Mark the best view of her ass. It was what she knew he wanted. Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain across her ass cheeks and cried out.
“That first one is for not addressing me as ‘Sir’ when I spoke to you.”
Erin realized her mistake. “I’m sorry, Sir.”
“You had better be. Now, I was only going to give you fifty strokes on the ass, but as further punishment, I think I’ll double that. Count out one hundred stokes just like before.”
Erin looked back at him, in tears yet again. “Yes, Sir.”
Mark smiled. By the second stroke, Erin knew he was not holding back in the least. Each time she spoke a number and thanked her captor with disgust in her voice, the next stroke stung even worse, whether due to her slowly bruising ass or Mark’s aggression.
By stroke forty, Erin couldn’t take anymore. After screaming, “forty, Sir!”, she collapsed to the floor in sobs.
“Oh no, we’re not done yet. Get up, slut.” Mark bent over Erin and grabbed her by the wrists, roughly dragging her several meters to a darkened part of the room. He slammed her chest and stomach down onto what felt like a heavy, metal table, then switched a lightbulb on from above. Erin suspected the scene would look rather eerie, if there were any bystanders.
“Stay on that table and don’t move. Show me your ass again.”
Erin remembered her, “yes, Sir” this time and, thankful for the chance to rest her weight on the table, lifted herself onto her toes and widened her stance a bit, letting her ass cheeks spread naturally.
“Good girl.” Mark brought the flogger down immediately.
“Forty one. Thank you, Sir!” Erin’s ass felt like it was on fire.
Mark still did not relent, and Erin had no choice but to endure the pain. She was sure her ass was bleeding by the time they got to stroke fifty, and by seventy she was practically in a trance—anything to block the pain.
Erin couldn’t remember counting the hundredth stroke. She remembered flashes of light (
or was it pain?), then blackness, then finally seeing Mark’s pretty blue eyes a few inches in front of hers.
“You still with me, bitch?”
She moaned, trying her best to make it sound like “Sir”.
“You almost passed out there. Tell you what, for that reward I mentioned, how about we give you a nice break today. Does that sound good to you?”
At this, Erin was instantly more alert. “Yes, Sir”.
“I’m sure it does.” Mark chuckled. “But first, I still need to hurt you one more time.”
Erin’s hopes fell as she tried to slide out from under Mark but found she didn’t have the strength. It was then that she realized she was lying on the floor.
Shit … I must have collapsed, she thought. A foggy haze clouded her vision. She looked back up at Mark, who smiled broadly.
“Sit on the edge of the table.”
“Yes, sir.”
After clumsily getting to her feet and stumbling over to the table, Erin lifted her bruised, aching body up and gingerly let her ass rest on the cold steel.
Shit. She realized it must still be bleeding, as streams of red ran down the smooth curve of the table beneath her.
Mark approached and lifted Erin’s legs up on to the table, causing her to fall back. “Rest back on your arms, put your feet up on the table, and spread your legs wide. Now. It’s time to see how obedient you can be.”
Erin hesitated for a fraction of a second. She knew what was coming next but knew at the same time she had no choice but to obey.
This isn’t about me being obedient. This is about how much you can torture me.
“Y–Yes, Sir.” Leaning back on her hands, Erin looked down at her sore and violated body. At the moment it seemed her thighs were in worse shape than her breasts. Her breasts were covered in welt and bruises to be sure, but her thighs had taken on a sickly green-tinged purple color. Each had several open, bleeding gashes that Erin could scarcely feel due to the excruciating pain from her bottom.
“That’s right”, Mark paced in front of her. “Show me that cunt. Present it to me, or else you won’t be getting any reward.”
“Yes, Sir.” Erin’s cheeks burned as she pushed her ass closer toward the edge of the table—not due to embarrassment, but rather because she was now actively taking part in her abuse by doing what Mark said. Her lack of control was not lost on her, but she still felt she had no choice but to obey.
“Good. You will receive ten strokes, but this time you will ask me for them. You will still count each stroke. And be sure to ask nicely if you want to take that break.” Mark winked.
This was almost more than Erin could take, but she knew she had to press on.
“Yes, Sir.” She gulped, then took a deep breath. “Please hit my pussy, Sir.”
Erin flinched, jerking hard when the whip came down across her chest. Mark did not look pleased. He lifted his leg and pressed a boot against her labia, hard. “A whore like you doesn’t have a pussy! That’s a cunt, and you will call it a cunt. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir!” Erin squealed, and Mark released her. “Please, hit–hit my … cunt, Sir.”
“As you wish.”
The first lash stung more than Erin anticipated. She had thought it would only be marginally worse than hits directly to her nipples, but the pain was more intense. After the third hit, she noticed her labia had turned bright red, and Mark’s cum began to leak out, rolling from her aching pussy down into her ass crack.
By the sixth hit, Erin was screaming at the top of her lungs while her entire body trembled. “SIX! Thank you, SIR! Please hit my cunt again, Sir!”
Mark, clearly enjoying his dominance, did not ease up until the final hit. After shouting a final “thank you”, Erin collapsed to the table, shaking and mumbling, her body numb and in shock from all the pain.
“Nice work, slut.” Erin heard a zipping sound, and Mark, with his cock hard and hanging out of his jeans, grabbed his victim’s legs and entered her once more. “You’ve done well so far today.”
Erin would have screamed if Mark thrusted, but he instead slid into her slowly, for which Erin was grateful. She didn’t think she could take any more pain just then. Mark drew close to her, his pretty blue eyes inches away, and gently pushed deep inside her, sending a rare wave of pleasure through Erin’s body. It rippled through her still-aching labia, up to her chest, and out her mouth in the form of a gasp.
Mark met her open mouth with his lips, drawing her into a soft and surprisingly passionate kiss. Erin was in a trance-like state, unable to move. “It’s time for that break. You will have four hours to rest.”