Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“Rebel,” I told her firmly, “get yourself back in position.” I moved my left hand to curl my fingers around the deliciously silky skin of her hip as well as the thrillingly lacy garter belt. I held her firmly and I kept whipping her quickly reddening bottom, using quicker, sharper strokes. “These… don’t… count,” I told her. “They… only… count…”
Leah had begun to sob and shriek, thrashing her head from side to side and beginning to shake her lovely copper hair loose from its bewitching chignon. “Okay!” she cried. “Please… it hurts so much…”
I felt her trying to offer her backside again, arching her back and raising her head. In the window I saw her eyes glint with new tears, her mouth turned down in the theatrical pout of a naughty girl getting what she earned.
“That’s it,” I told her. “Keep this bottom right here.” I started to whip her again.
Leah
It felt like Christian had set me on the back of a horse made of lava. My whole backside, ass and upper thighs, the whole area between the garter belt and the lowered panties and the suspender straps, burned with his stern correction as I rode that seat of fire. Each lash of his horrible belt renewed the agony, as if the steed of my correction had simply taken another stride in the endless punishment ride my master had sentenced me to.
I tried to move with Christian’s rhythm, to rock forward a little in hope of somehow lessening the impact of the doubled leather on my ass. His big hand grasped my hip more firmly every time, and my millimeter of movement only served to add tension to my muscles and make the lash more painful.
I knew, somewhere in my distant, detached mind, what my master sought from me. I had felt myself yield to his discipline twice before, and part of me wanted to try to feign that humiliating acceptance—as if I could win a secret victory that way, by pretending to give in. I simply couldn’t do it, though: my body kept resisting, every stern, echoing stroke of the belt drawing a full-throated scream from me.
Worse, I could feel it coming: the yielding that would satisfy my stern, brutal, loving master. I heard my screams growing fainter though the agony in my bottom and upper thighs remained. I couldn’t see the color Christian had turned my rear end in the window, but I couldn’t keep myself from picturing it: cherry red, from my ass-cheeks all the way down to my bunched panties. My keeper had marked his territory and ensured I would remember my lesson whenever I tried to sit down, for days.
He laid the belt very hard across both my cheeks. I tried desperately, one final time, to get away, and when I found myself held fast I let out a moaning sob and felt my body give in. The transformation seemed to wash over me like a cold wave from the Pacific. My muscles relaxed, and instead of fighting my correction, I tried to arch my back further and raise my head higher, hoping to please my keeper.
I heard Christian grunt softly. In the window I saw the corner of his mouth turn upward as he looked down at my bottom.
“Good girl,” he said. “Now your pussy.”
“Oh…” I sobbed. “Oh, sir… no, please… not with the… not with the belt!”
But Christian had already tightened his grip on my right hip even further, immobilizing me entirely, it felt like, and his arm had already risen. It came down, and my body seemed to explode into agony as the leather lashed me between my legs, over my sealed labia.
I screamed and sobbed, wailed and wept. My body twisted and writhed at first. In the reflection in front of me I saw that my beautifully coiffed hair had come completely free of the chignon; bobby pins fell to the floor.
My master kept whipping my pussy, though: short, sharp, quick lashes that found the narrow opening left by my lowered panties and made me feel like my most intimate places had caught fire. Christian had prepared me well, though, I understood after only four or five strokes. I yielded again, pushed out my bottom again in hope of pleasing him enough that he would open me and fill me and use me as he liked.
The belt stopped whipping me. Christian spoke sternly, his voice making clear that my punishment hadn’t ended yet—that I must take the next part, also, as an uncomfortable degrading lesson in my sponsor’s ownership.
“Get down on your elbows,” he commanded. “Nose against the top of the table. Keep your ass nice and high. I’ll be back in a moment.”
He let go of me. My body sagged. Almost automatically, I lowered myself as he had instructed, my backside still on fire but with the pain dulling quickly and the desperate need mounting in my pussy so urgently that every movement seemed to draw a shamefully ambiguous whimper from my throat. I felt it acutely, how degrading a position my keeper had put me in.