"I demand to know why I have been brought here," she said.The man raised his hand and from behind a guard dressed the same as the one from the outside came over to her and slapped her across the face.She fell to the floor."A slave speaks only when told to do so," the man on the pillows said."Slave, you're mad," she screamed at him. The man just looked at her and waved to the guard once again. This time two sets of hands grab her. One of the guards unhooked the chain while the other one hooked her still cuffed hands to a overhead hook. The one who had unhooked the chain reached up and ripped her top off. Her eyes widen when he raised a knife and placed it to her chest.With one quick cut her bra flew open. The man wordlessly cut her straps exposing her breasts. He now pulled down her skirt leaving only her panties on. The man on the pillows held up three fingers.The pain of the whip as it bit into her flesh caused her eyes to bug out. Never in her life had she been struck. Tears filled. He put the lid back on the marker, and set it down on the bed, then looked up at her expectantly.She grinned back, and stepped to the side, lining up her body to start working over his right foot. The cane smacked into him, and he started counting again. It happened faster this time, both of them were closer to the edge, more eager to get there. The initial doubts and hesitations, the uncertainties about whether they were in the mood for this sort of thing, if they’d be able to connect, if there were too many other things going on had disappeared. She inflicted pain on him, and it reflected back onto her as pleasure. He saw her pleasure, and it made him want more pain. His hands still held his leg down, his body jerked and spasmed and complained regardless of what his mind wanted. Nerve endings frayed and fired, and he began to sweat. She swallowed hard, almost drooling at the sight of him suffering, and forced herself to set a deliberate pace and not just hit him as hard and quick.
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