Susan’s Submission Chapter 4

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Susan’s Submission Chapter 4CHAPTER 4 Peter stepped behind her, carefully eyeing the results of the punishment he had administered thus far. The stripes from the cat-o-nine tails were becoming darker across Susan’s back and the back of her legs. Her buttocks were somewhat swollen, and extraordinarily red. He softly stroked her back, as she stood with her hands behind her head, feet spread. He spoke as he felt the heat from her skin, “I’m going to leave you for a short time. Why don’t you have a drink of water, use the toilet and clean up a bit while I’m gone?” He continued, when I return, I want you to lie upon the table, face down, obviously,” he chuckled.Susan heard his words, he spoke calmly, evenly, and even gently. She wanted to break from her position, turn and embrace him, but knew that it wouldn’t be the thing to do. She heard Peter walk to the door and leave the room. She moved to the corner and sat gingerly on the seat of the toilet. The pain was returning, she mused because her erotic excitement was waning. She felt the burning of her flesh and the soreness, not only of the areas that Peter had used the whip, crop and paddle upon, but her arms and legs had been stretched nearly to their limit for such a long time, and not to mention that her struggles in her bonds had probably contributed to her soreness. She felt Peter’s semen dribble from her sex, and using a bit of toilet paper, wrapped it about her index finger and felt inside of her vagina, trying to dislodge whatever of his cum may still be inside of her. She finished with the toilet, flushed, and stood to look in the mirror above the small sink. She dampened the face cloth that was hanging on the rack next to the towel, and cleaned her face. Susan had cleaned beneath her arms, as well as between her legs with the dampened cloth, then returned it to the towel rack. She used the small face towel to dry herself, and after replacing it on the rack, moved to the other side and spotting her water bowl, knelt. Placing her hands on the floor, she bent forward to lap the water. It was fresh water, and she imagined that Peter had cleaned the bowl and added the water while she was being fitted by Fiona. Once her thirst had been quenched, Susan moved sorely to the wooden table, and managed to get atop. She centered herself on the large table, then lay face down. Her breasts pressed into the smooth wood, as did her pelvis. She felt the now sore baldness of her sex as it rested on the smooth wood. She folded her arms, a bit awkwardly with her wrist cuffs getting in the way, then lay her head on them. She was tired and wanted to sleep, but her racing mind, prevented it. She considered how terribly Peter had beaten her, and even only moments later would touch her so gently. She remembered the single kiss he had given her on her forehead. It was at this point that she heard the door to the room open, and turning her head, saw Peter enter awkwardly carrying two metal pails. She tried to see what it was inside, but could not. As he came next to the table, Susan could see ‘blue-ice’ packs many of them, filling each bucket. Peter smiled at her and set the pails on the floor. “Stay just like you are, and relax a bit,” he bent and grabbing an ice pack, placed it gently on her upper back, just where the red stripes inflicted by the cat-o-nine tails started above her shoulder blades. He continued to place the ice packs on her back, working his way lower, and covering each exposed inch of Susan’s burning flesh. Susan jerked slightly as the first was applied, the coldness startled her, but then she relaxed and while the ice packs were very cold, they soothed her sore and burning flesh. Peter would work his way lower, placing a pack on one side of her back, then another next to it. He had worked his way to her buttocks, then asked Susan to spread her legs further apart. As she did, he place one vertically between the cheeks of her sore and tender ass, then two more, one on each buttock. He had just enough of the ice packs to cover the backs of her legs, then he moved from the table to the wall on the opposite side of the table fromthe door. Susan turned her head on her arms to watch him. He moved to the wall, and reaching up, pressed the sound-proofing foam insulation. To her great surprise, a door popped open. The sound proofing foam covered the surface of the door, and there being no knob, no onewould suspect a door. As he pulled the door open, Susan could make out only a room behind, Peter walked through the door, and a moment later reentered the dungeon, with a canvass folding chair in his hand. He paused to push the door closed and heard it click shut, he turned and moved to the table next to Susan’s head. He unfolded the chair, which was much like a ‘director’s’ chair except it wasn’t so tall, and set it on the floor, and then sat in the chair. He started the conversation by asking Susan how she was doing, and if the ice packs were helping. She told him that she was sore, but that the ice packs were helping tremendously. The conversation was most ironic, casual and friendly. He explained that the purpose of the ice packs was not only to relieve the pain, but also mostly to help avoid bruising. He explained that she would have marks, but if treated correctly, they would not be so bad,and would disappear quickly. He chided Susan, “If your lower legs have marks, you could either wear slacks, or a long dress, or even dark stockings to cover them.” He asked her where she worked and about her job. She chatted, almost pleasantly with him about her dead-end job, and how she hated it, but that it paid the bills. Peter responded, “As you might have guessed, by the size and the décor of my home, I live rather comfortably.” He continued, “I own a few dozen small businesses, mostly restaurants, stores, and the like, but I also happen to own a majority of shares of stock in a pharmaceutical company.” He said this not in a boastful or bragging way, rather matter-of-factly. “I don’t run the company, I suppose I am the Chairman of the Board of Directors, but not the CEO or President. I let the professionals run the company.” He continued, “I do make it a point to visit each of my business interests regularly, but I’ve managed to hire people who do well and don’t steal me blind while they do.” Susan watched him closely as he spoke. This was not a prideful person, he spoke simply, and when she spoke, he listened carefully. They talked for awhile about their interests and hobbies, while Susan was talking aboutherself, Peter wordlessly rose from his chair, and lifted one of the ice packs from her back. He felt the underside of the ice pack and saw that it was thawing. He turned the ice pack over and placed it from where he had taken it. He turned each of the ice packs over, so thatthey would have the best effect. Peter again took his seat, and asked Susan, “Have you learned anything here?” Susan took a moment, thoughtfully, looking at Peter and replied, “Yes, I have Sir.” “What is it that you feel you’ve learned,” he asked. “You used me to pleasure yourself,” she started, “and somehow, I feel that I gave you at least a small part of that pleasure.” She continued, “Somehow, it was rewarding to me to know that I had contributed to it at any rate.” Peter smiled, “You have learned, and I am happy, but I must ask, why do you allow me to inflict pain and humiliation on you?” Susan knew her answer, never-the-less paused as if thinking, “I have given myself to you to use however you like, and I suppose I trust you to not go too far.” She then added, “I believe that you find pleasure in knowing that.” They talked awhile longer, learning about one another and having just casual conversation. After fifteen or twenty minutes, Peter rose, “Were nearly half way through the morning, and still have a considerable amount to accomplish today.” He moved to the other side of the table, and lifted each ice pack from her. They were nearly thawed now, and he place each into one of the pails he had set on the floor. “I’m going to leave you only for a few minutes,” he said, “and while I’m gone, I would suggest that you use the toilet if you need to, and be waiting to resume when I return.” He turned and walked out of the room. Susan lay upon the table for a moment more, then raised herself and gingerly stepped from the table. She didn’t need to use the toilet, but did want another drink of water, so she went to her bowl and lapped the water into her mouth. Finished, she moved to the center of the room and knelt with her head bowed. Only a minute or so later, the door opened and Peter entered. Closing the door behind him, he ordered Susan to her feet and to the end of the room with him. She moved to the wall on the end of the room next to Peter. They were standing in front of the large wooden cross. “I want you to place your back on the cross, and present yourself,” Peter commanded. As she did so, Susan watched as he walked across the room to the horse, and bending, removed each of the lengths of chain from where they had been left, affixed to the four metal rings in the floor. He returned to Susan carrying the four lengths of chain along with the carabineer clips, then knelt fastening the rings of each cuff to the end link of each of two of the chains. When he stood, he instructed her to hold her hands in front of her, and did likewise with the rings in her wrist cuffs. Peter had Susan move back slightly so that her back and raw buttocks pressed against the wall and the wooden X bolted to the wall. anadolu yakası escort Peter took the length of chain at her right wrist and raising it high, held it next to the ring. He fed a link of the chain through the carabineer clip, then hooked the clip to the metal ring. Moving to her other side, he fixed the chain to the opposite metal ring. Susan was watching, straining to look up as she did, she could see about a foot of chain dangling beneath each ring, but her arms were stretched and extended not quite to their capacity. Peter knelt, and gasping the chain attached to Susan’s left ankle, pulled her foot further to the side, requiring that she stand on one foot. He pulled on the chain till her leg would extend no further, and fastened the chain to the metal ring at the base of the cross. He scooted to her other side and with a strong tug, pulled Susan’s right foot from beneath her. She found herself suspended on this wooden cross by her wrists alone, and her arms felt the tension of her entire weight being borne. Peter had quickly fastened the remaining ankle chain to the ring at the bottom of the X, and stood. Susan felt much like she had the previous evening when she had been bound spread-eagle upon the wooden table. Her limbs were pulled and separated widely, much as they had been, the only two differences being that this time her body was vertical, and her weight was being borne by her arms. Peter stood in front of her, and reaching up, fondled her breasts with both hands. He looked directly into her eyes as he did this, and felt her nipples harden to his touch. He squeezed and fondled her, hands soon moving over her sides and feeling the flatness of her stomach, then lower. Susan felt his fingertips as they first touched the top of her pubic region. She could no longer look into his eyes, and lowered her head till her chin rested on her chest. Peter was very slow and methodical, and she felt arousal as his fingers explored between her legs, stroking her vulva. Her breath caught, when she realized that she had already been breathing faster, her erotic desires had returned. Peter didn’t stop, until he had softly parted the lips of her sex with the fingers of one hand, and with the index finger of his other, he pushed upward and into her. He was not surprised that it required little effort, as she was very wet and he felt the walls of her sex with his finger, slick with her juices. Susan hung her head in her embarrassment, and closed her eyes tightly. Peter abruptly withdrew his finger from her and moved away. He walked quickly to a wooden cupboard along the wall, opened the doors and removed several objects, quickly returning to his spot in front of Susan. She tried to see what he had gotten from the cupboard, as he knelt and placed something on the floor, then standing with a black rubber device in his hands. Susan could see that there were two thick and rigid rubber straps with a buckle at the end of one, the straps were connected to a thick flat piece of rubber, from which protruded what appeared to be a short black phallus. “I’m going to gag you for this portion of your discipline,” he said simply, and with that, moved the phallic portion of the gag to her lips. “Open your mouth,” came the command, as he took her chin in one hand, pressing the protrusion to her lips. Susan hesitated, for only the smallest of moments, the opened her mouth. She tasted the rubber as it passed her lips and was pushed into her mouth, and felt the tip of the mock- circumcised penis as it touched her tongue and roof of her mouth. The device was not long, reaching nearly to the back of her tongue, but not to her throat however, it did fill her mouth, causing her cheeks to bulge somewhat. She closed her lips about the shaft of the faux penis and at the same time, nodded her head forward a bit, as Peter had taken the straps and was reaching behind her head in order to fasten the buckle that would hold the gag in place. Peter pulled the straps hard, seating firmly into his victim’s mouth, the rubber cock, causing the corners of her mouth to stretch, then buckling the straps at the rear of her head. He had made certain that there was enough tension on the rubber straps, to hold the gag firmly in place. Susan was wide-eyed as Peter had inserted and fastened this gag in her mouth. Her tongue almost as if it had a mind of its own, explored the shaft of the rubber penis inside her mouth, feeling it, measuring it. Peter bent and picked up whatever it was that he had seton the floor, and straightening, held the devices in one hand. The blonde woman could see that they were some kind of clamps. Each had a small lever on its side, and Susan supposed that the purpose was to adjust the tension of the clamp. Peter’s free hand returned to her right breast, massaging it gently, kneading the flesh with his fingertips. He watched as the small pink nipple grew harder, then raising his other hand, placed her erect nipple in the jaws of the clamp. Using his thumb, he pressed the small lever of the clamp, and the jaws closed tightly on the flesh of her nipple, squeezing it hard. Susan let out a whimper through the gag. The pain shot through her entire breast, as if a wave of electrical current had hit her. She had looked down as he fixed this clamp to her nipple, and finally understood the application for which this clamp was designed. The pain was sharp and unrelenting, and her eyes followed Peter’s hands as he first tested the tightness of this clamp by giving several sharp tugs. She felt the pain shoot to her lower body, oddly enough through her hips and into her legs. Had she been standing, her knees would certainly have buckled. She watched as Peter quickly moved to her left breast. Its nipple already hard, still he massaged it, as if trying to achieve maximum erection, then he guided her breast so that its nipple came between the jaws of the second clamp. She winced and again whimpered as Peter’s thumb operated the tiny lever tightening the clamp. She saw the flesh of her engorged nipple, as it was compressed between the jaws. Peter again tested the grip of the clamp by tugging it sharply, and enjoyed the view of Susan’s breast as it jiggled with each tug. He poised his hands over each of her breasts and using his fingertips, traced the outline of her breasts, starting at the top, circling each with his fingers. He felt the softest flesh of the delicate undersides of her breasts and paused a moment to gently lift each. He then lowered his hands, turned and walked to the wall where the various apparatus hung, and retrieving the cat-o-nine tails, quickly moved once again to Susan who watched wide-eyed his every movement. “I’m sure you remember our friend here,” he said with a small smile as he held out the whip for her to see. Saying nothing further, Peter stood slightly to the side, and bending, raised his arm and let the first stroke of the cat-o-nine tails fall hard on the flesh of Susan’s upper thigh on her right leg. Susan had watched as the blow fell, then tried to scream at the sudden and searing pain, but remembered she could not. The rubber gag had restricted any vocal noise she might have made, but scream she did. She had watched the first blow fall, but couldn’t watch any more, closing her eyes tightly. She wriggled in her bonds, but her movements were nearly as restricted as they had been when she had been bound over the vaulting horse. Tears ran freely from between her tightly closed eyelids and ran down her cheeks. As the thrashing continued, saliva ran from the corners of her mouth, under the rubber gag, and down her chin. She whipped her head from side to side, trying desperately to avoid the pain but becoming more and more desperate as she more fully understood that she would be unable to do so. As he had with the backs of her legs, Peter carefully aimed each stroke of the whip to land just below the previous. He stopped after ten strokes as he had reached a point just above Susan’s knee. He paused while he moved to the other side and resumed administering blows with the cat-o-nine tails just above her other knee, working methodically upward with the whip. Susan could feel every detail of the pain being administered. The searing burn of each of the leather strips of this whip as they landed wherever, then the tips of the tiny strips as they wrapped around, and administered their own pain further inward and around to the insides of her legs. She felt the pain of each stroke upon her left leg, as it rose with each subsequent stroke, raising up her thigh then nearly to the junction of her legs. “Surely, he wasn’t going to whip her there,” she panicked, still crying and tossing her head. At several points between the strokes, she felt the additional pain of the nipple clamps as she tried desperately to thrash in her bonds, her breasts bobbing in her struggles. Then the next stroke would land, taking her mind momentarily off the plight of her clamped nipples. He wasn’t going to whip her there, not for now anyway. Peter had administered another ten blows to her left thigh, and stood back, looking now at the spectacle before him. Susan was still trying to thrash about, her screams efficiently muffled by the gag, saliva running from her mouth to her chin, then dripping to her breasts. Her breasts were bouncing, not wildly, but with her vain attempts at thrashing about. He watched as the nipple clamps bobbed from side to side, and up and down. Tears were streaming ataşehir escort down her face, her eyes still tightly closed. Peter moved back to Susan’s right, and raising the cat-o-nine tails, brought it down hard,laterally, across her lower abdomen, just above her pubis. She writhed in agony, her muffled screams pitiful. He stroked again, just above the first, then again. Susan shook her blonde head from side to side. She tried desperately to move her arms and legs, as if trying to break the bonds, and run away, but her limbs were stretched nearly to capacity. Further, she couldn’t even cry out, the penis gag in her mouth would not permit it. The strokes fell higher and higher till they landed just below her breasts. During this ordeal, each time she shook her head, it caused her breasts to jiggle about reminding Susan at one level or another, of the clamp adorning each nipple. The pain of each clamp had never gone away, it had just become additional pain to whatever strokes were being administered. When Peter had landed the strokes with the whip, and working upward from Susan’s lower abdomen to a point just below her breasts, he stopped. Without pause, he moved from his bound beauty, to the wall and replacing the cat-o-nine tails, retrieved another leather whip, and returned to Susan, too far involved with her pain to be aware that he had left. He stood there in front of her, watching as she cried through her gag. The tiny red stripes on her thighs and abdomen. They seemed to frame this beautiful woman’s hairless sex. Saliva had dribbled from between her lips and the gag that held them open, much of it landing on her breasts, then to the floor. He waited patiently, for her crying to subside. After several minutes, Susan crying had softened, and finally stopped. She was able tofocus her eyes and saw Peter standing. She sniffled a few times, then made the conscious effort to stop. Her eyes focused, he was no longer holding the cat-o-nine tails, rather a smaller whip. He saw her gaze fall to the small whip he now held, and holding in front of her explained, “This whip is called a ‘quirt’, ”calmly, as if delivering a class on the subject, “I suspect that you’ll be able to easily differentiate the pain it causes from anything else, as it will create pain so much more severe than anything else that I have.” An indescribable fear filled the young woman, she listened to his words but her mind was unable to comprehend, “more severe than anything else.” She eyed this instrument, it wasshort, only about eighteen inches or so, a single cruel appearing strip of leather, the handle about six inches, the whip extending from it, was round and thick at the base, narrowing in circumference to an almost pointed tip. Surely she must already have endured the worst. She watched with worry, as Peter moved, putting the whip under his arm for the moment, and reaching for the clamps affixed to her nipples. “I was considering leaving these on,” he said, indicating the nipple clamps, “but I want you to experience the stripes you’ll receive from this whip, without anything to distract you.” He held the underside of her left breast, with his left hand, and lifting it a bit, used his right hand to release the lever of the clamp, opening the jaws and removing it from her nipple. Susan had bowed her head, and watched as he lifted her breast, then removed the clamp. It took a full moment for the blood to rush into her sore nipple, and with it, the incredible pain. She cried around the rubber phallus filling her mouth. It would have been a wail of anguish had she not been gagged. The pain passed from her nipple through her entire breast. Her eyes closed again, and tears squeezed through her tightly closed eyelids. She felt Peter’s hand at her right breast, opening her eyes, saw his movements, blurred through her tears, as he released the pale pink nipple of that breast from the clamp. Another moment, and identical pain from that side. Peter stooped and placed the clamps on the concrete floor then straightened. He gave Susan no time to recoup from the pain, rather gripped and raised the tiny whip, bringing it down hard. The lash landed atop her right breast, raising immediately a horizontal weltacross the top portion of her small breast. Then another just below that. Susan had not recovered from the pain of the clamps being removed from her nipples when the first blow landed on her breast. Peter had not exaggerated the pain from this blow was exponentially greater than any she had felt previously. She was trying desperately to scream through the gag, when the second blow came, just below the first. Peter was aware of Susan’s jerking in her bonds, trying to escape the blows he rained upon her. He took careful aim with each stroke, and after five strokes with the small whip, had decorated the upper portion of her breast with red stripes. He moved to the other side and likewise covered the top portion of her left breast similarly. The woman’s muffled shrieks were the only noise in the room save for the small crack of the leather whip as it landed on flesh. Peter had delivered the second set of blows to her breast, then moved back to the original side. Susan crying in her misery, and unable to see through her tears, felt Peter as he gripped the nipple of her left breast, and lifted. Pulling it upward a bit, creating new pain in the sore pink protrusion, then another blow, this time to the soft underside of her breast.Then four more quick strokes of the whip in rapid succession. It was almost as if he wasrunning a marathon, trying to finish quickly. A moment later she felt the release of the nipple of her right breast, again the pain as he pulled painfully on her left breast’s nipple, lifting, and several more quick lashes to its soft underside. Finally Peter released the sore nipple and stood back. Susan was crying through her gag, wailing miserably. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her head now slowly moving from side to side and hung forward a bit. He watched carefully as the woman suffered. He studied what little movement her bonds allowed. He listened to her sobs, and noticed the way that her chest heaved as she cried. He waited several minutes while the crying subsided slowly. He held the quirt in his hand at his side, saying nothing, just watching. He wanted the pain she was experiencing, to subside. He wanted her fully aware of what he had planned next for her. So he waited thenearly five minutes while Susan brought her crying under control. Susan’s thoughts slowly returned to her. Her mind had been filled with pain and again she discovered that she could think of nothing other than the pain while it was being inflicted upon her. Her sobs softened a bit from around the gag filling her mouth. She realized that among all the burning and hurt that her breasts were suffering, her jaws were tired and ached. They had been held open for so long, and along with the exertion of crying, they longed to have the gag removed. The terrible pain lingered in her thighs, abdomen, chestand breasts. Her sensitive nipples were so very sore. Her sobbing quieted a bit, and she was left with the melancholy of her suffering. When Peter saw that his victim’s breathing had almost resumed its normal rhythm, and could hear only the occasional low moan from deep in Susan’s throat, he moved, once again, to the side a bit. Bending slightly at the waist, he raised the whip, taking careful aim, and landed a viscous blow, directly upon the sex of the blonde woman. The quirt landed just above her vulva, its tip curling slightly and created its unique secondary pain, just to the top of her hairless sex. Her reaction was enormous and immediate. Susan’s eyes grew wide and despite the gag filling her mouth, the scream escaped a bit from around the gag. Peterwas not watching however, he had taken aim again and landed the second blow. This stroke a bit lower and catching her squarely on her exposed pussy. He expertly delivered another eight blows, each landing closely to the previous, and her already sore and somewhat sex delivered the pain immediately from each blow, directly to her brain. Susan had lost all control, and at that moment, felt her bladder involuntarily empty. She was only slightly aware of this, and she really didn’t seem to care. Susan had been crying terribly and as each blow landed, she felt she could stand no more. Her head tossed madly to and fro, as if to dislodge the pain of each stroke from her brain. She had never wanted anything before more badly, than for this punishment to end. And, finally, it did. Peter, moved back and again observed closely the struggles of his blonde captive. She was wailing through her gag, more miserably and pitifully than he had ever heard before. Saliva escaped from between her lips and past the gag dribbling either to her heaving breasts or directly to the floor at her feet. A puddle had formed between her widely stretched legs where she had urinated. As her cries had slowed, she became more possessed with sobbing, and Peter stepped forward. Reaching behind her bowed head, he unfastened the buckle of the straps holding the gag in her mouth. Pulling, he removed the shaft of the gag from between her lips, and stood back, holding the quirt in one hand, the rubber cock gag in the other. Susan’s body hung limp in her bonds, her weight being born entirely by her wrists, spreadwidely and high above her. Her body racked with sobbing, her blonde head hanging, she moaned occasionally, ümraniye escort and Peter watched closely, her suffering. When her sobbing had quieted a bit, he moved and standing directly in front of her, lifted her chin with one hand, holding the quirt in front of her face with the other, said nothing. Susan, feeling her head being lifted, opened her eyes. She saw the tiny whip in front of her and suddenly realized what was expected. She blinked away the tears filling her eyes, and strained her neck slightly forward, pursed her lips and softly kissed the tool that had caused her such enormous pain. Looking up and directly into Peter’s eyes she stammered softly, “Thank you Sir, for the discipline,” then continued her sobbing. Peter, wordlessly released her chin, and moved to the wall, hanging the quirt on its hook, then moved to the wooden cupboard and placed the gag on the shelf from where it had come. He moved to Susan, suspended on the wall, and kneeling, released the clip holdingher ankle cuff to the ring in the cross. He took her foot and gently lowered it to the floor. He slid a bit to the side, and released her other ankle cuff and likewise lowered that foot to the floor. Standing, he moved a bit to one side of the woman, and reaching, released her wrist cuff from the ring secured to the beam of the X, moved to her other side and released that wrist cuff. He slowly lowered each arm as it was released, then stood back to observe more. Susan stood in front of the wooden cross, arms at her sides, sobbing only occasionally now, blonde head still lowered, looking at the floor. The pain was subsiding slowly, but still overwhelming her. Finally, she was able to raise her head, and she saw Peter watching her. She moved a bit and discovered that the pain between her legs would not allow her to close them. Her breasts hurt tremendously, their tortured nipples were two tiny caps of agony atop each burning orb. The tears had stopped and she continued to look at Peter. “I want you to present yourself,” came the simple command. Reluctantly, almost defiantly, Susan slowly obeyed, spreading her feet slightly, and raising her tired arms to interlock her fingers behind her head. She moved her elbows till they pointed directly outward. Peter examined the stripes left by the cat-o-nine tails, they were tiny, almost thread-like when compared to the viscous welts left by the quirt. He moved closer, and touched the flesh of his victim, tracing the lines left by the quirt across and underneath her breasts. Then moved his hand between her spread legs. He felt the welts left by the whip on her sex. Further, he felt the burning heat there, from the inflamed area, which had beenso cruelly whipped. Wordlessly, he looked at Susan’s face as he poised the tip of his index finger at her opening, and with a little pressure, pushed the digit into her. She winced a bit and reflexively, jerked her hips back just the slightest bit. He slid effortlessly into her vagina and felt its heat and the large amount of fluid. Susan, closed her eyes and felt his finger inside of her, discovering at the same instant as Peter, that she was wet down there. He quickly extracted his finger and stood back. “Use the toilet, and clean yourself while I’m gone,” he added rather unemotionally, “When you’ve finished, lie on the table, this time face up.” With that, he turned and walked away, leaving the room and Susan still standing, arms raised. Slowly she lowered them and moved to the corner of the dungeon. She had done as Peter had instructed and was lying on the wooden table when he again entered. He had the two pails with him, and again set them on the floor next to the table. He first reached beneath the table and pulled out the foam cushion, upon which her buttocks had rested the evening before. He lifted her head with one hand and placed the small pillow under it. Next he removed the ice packs from the pails, placing them so gently on her body, again covering her wounds with the frozen plastic packs. He laid two of the ice packs on her sex, and had covered her thighs with the remaining packs, then moved to the other side ofthe table and sat in the canvass chair still at the table’s side. Neither of them had spoken during this, Susan wasn’t sure what she could say. She was thinking that while the punishment administered to her backside had been extremely painful, she had endured it well, and felt Peter’s tender ministrations to her back afterward. The torment he had inflicted to the front of her body, particularly her breasts and moreover between her legs with the tiny whip, was extraordinarily cruel. “Despite what you might think,” he began evenly, “I did not lose control of myself in punishing you just now.” He voice lacked any emotion or kindness, “I intentionally inflictedthe pain that you felt for a purpose.” He explained as if delivering a lecture, “Often times, I will punish you because it pleases me to see your suffering, and knowing that you are willing to undergo that suffering to please me.” He continued, “This particular punishment was to make you fully aware of your threshold for pain, and to remind you of those specific areas that are particularly vulnerable to pain.” He finished his lecture. Susan looked at Peter while he spoke. Her pain and soreness was indescribable. After the most recent torture, she felt resentment within her, and held her mouth tightly closed while Peter spoke. She considered the whipping of her most intimate parts as a violation of whatever trust she had for this man. Peter saw Susan looking at him with her jaw set and steely blue eyes. “You look at me with defiance or perhaps contempt, and I thought we had removed that from you, but apparentlynot. Don’t worry, you will lose that soon enough.” With that, he rose and left the room, Susan lying on the table, her body still covered with ice packs. She turned her head so that she was looking directly above, and saw her reflection in the mirror above the table. Her body ached with a tremendous pain from literally head to toe, particularly her buttocks, breasts, and most of all the most intimate area between her legs. She felt the tears welling in her eyes, and closed them, crying softly. Suddenly she felt a helplessness like nothing she’d felt before. She realized that there was nothing that she could do to stop whatever events happened, and that Peter could and would abuse her this way whenever he liked. Of course, she was right, but felt helpless never-the-less. After several minutes, Susan had regained her composure, lying still on the wooden table, she heard the door to the dungeon open. Peter entered, carrying a bowl and thermos bottle, moved to the corner and setting the bowl on the floor, picked up the water bowl from which Susan had drunk. He emptied it in the sink, rinsing it before returning it to its spot on the floor. He then opened the thermos and poured whatever liquid it held into the bowl. Finished, he moved to the table, setting the empty thermos on the floor, lifted an ice pack from Susan’s pain wracked body, and seeing that it had thawed on one side, turned it over, placing it from where it had come. He repeated this process with each ice pack, turning the still frozen side on Susan’s welted and sore flesh. “I’m going to leave you for about an hour. You may clean yourself and use the toilet as you like,” he said evenly, “and, I’ve prepared your lunch. You really had better eat.” As he finished his sentence, he had turned the last ice pack, again placing the still frozen side next to Susan’s sore flesh. He turned and left the room. Susan hadn’t made a sound, she had stared at her reflection above her. He had left and she moved her arms a bit, her wrist cuffs still adorning her wrists, only reminded her of her subservient situation. She felt the resentment, but also felt alone. After ten minutes or so, Susan stirred, she felt her stiffness, probably from the ice packs covering her, and decided to rise. She gingerly lifted the ice packs off her upper body, andstiffly sat in an upright position. She removed the remaining ice packs from her thighs and saw the welts that had been left by the vicious little whip. They had created a pattern across her thighs, and while she was fascinated, she could feel the individual pain of each. She pivoted on her tender buttocks, and swung her legs over the table, then lowered herself gingerly to the floor. She moved only after a few moments, stiffly to the sink and toilet where she cleaned herself, then to the bowls to eat her lunch. The pain that had covered her body lessened a bit as time passed, Susan knelt and ate from her bowl. Peter had prepared some sort of seafood salad, and she found orange juice in her water bowl. The juice tasted good, and after starting to lap the liquid, Susan decided to lift the bowl and drink, her first defiance of Peter’s ‘rules’. By this point in time, she had become defiant. Once she’d finished the meal, she again used the toilet, wiping herself with toilet paper quite carefully down there. Not sure what to do next, she returned to the table, lifted herself onto it, and lay on her back. She saw her reflection in the overhead mirror. Her body was red and sore from above her breasts to just above her knees. She stared at her vulva, they were very swollen, and the lash had left welts across each of her puffy outer lips. She was tired, but much too sore to sleep. Susan became fascinated with the marks and swelling on her body. She had never seen herself, or anyone else for that matter, in such a state. She would trace the tiny lines across her breasts with her fingertips, feeling them, exploring them. She opened her legs a bit and touched the marks on her lower abdomen, then with the gentlest touch, those upon her vulva. She put her hands at her sides again and studied her body’s reflection in the mirror above her.

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