He slapped her across the tits, hard.
“Fuck, fuck YOU, you fucking bastard.” Her voice was a low growl, coming from the tangled depths of her hair. It covered her face, one eye glaring from the knots and damp tresses.
He slapped her again. She whimpered. Turning, he walked to the low table where dozens of thing had been laid out with care. She hated him. Hated him.
He tapped her nipple 5, 6, 7, 15, 18 times. Tap tap tap, each blow a bit harder than the last, a bit stingier. The lexan cane. The thin one that hurt like fuck-all when he slashed it, and wasn’t that much more comfortable when he did this. Her nipple began throbbing, then screaming.
She bore down, took it. Refused to give him the satisfaction of uttering that scream aloud.
“Oh OH FUCK YOU!” she yelped as he hit the other nipple hard, once.
Her head fell forward, her arms twisted above her head, secured to the heavy hook over the door. Her left knee was bent, the foot tied to the other knee, so that she stood on one foot.
In 6 inch stiletto’s.
Her toes throbbed, and went numb, woke and throbbed some more. He turned away, back to the table. She hung there, sweating, panting through the pain.
There was a hummmmmmmmmm.
“No, you fucking whoremaster…Noooooo” the words died as moaning became the only sound she could make. The hitachi was pressed against her pussy, as his fingers dug and explored her hole.
“You’re so fucking wet, you cunt.” He hissed into her ear. “You hate me, you say, but your fuck-hole is dripping. Cum. CUM you fucking dirty slut, you cum all over the floor…
There was a sound, a spatter, as she felt her mind sail out into the ether, as her body convulsed in a powerful orgasm.
“I fucking love Him” she thought softly to herself.