During this whipping, the room was filled with the sounds of the whip cutting through the air, terminating in the sound of leather thrashing into human flesh, then immediately drowned out by Yvonne’s tortured screams of horrible, ghastly pain – each scream then slowly replaced by the pathetic and despairing, shuddering sobs and whimpers of the tortured victim.
After some fifty or so strokes, Yvonne had been reduced to an inhuman blubbering wreck, her body now red and battered, and becoming ever more swollen beneath the raised red marks and abrasions that covered her entire body.
Peter was puffing and panting from the continual effort that he’d been putting into beating his victim. He now paused and admired his work on Yvonne. She had looked so pretty and lovely when he had first started off. Now her eyes were swollen from crying, her face was tear stained, her hair was dishevelled from her threshing about as he had flogged her body, and her lovely, soft body was becoming beautifully damaged.
He stood looking and regaining his breath. Yvonne was still sobbing in her abject misery. Peter’s gaze was attracted to Yvonne’s small breasts with their large nipples. He had landed several blows across her breasts, and he now considered that it would be fun to concentrate on them and beat them to a pulp.
During this momentary interval, Yvonne had regained a little composure even though she continued sobbing pathetically. One would expect any other woman to plead for her release, but in fact Yvonne made no such plea, no complaint at all, and had simply waited for Peter’s next onslaught on her body. Her pleas for mercy during the beating were automatic responses to self preservation, but in between, Yvonne accepted that it was her role to be nothing more than something to be used in this way.
Peter, after surveying his selection of whips, this time took up a cruel, multi-stranded flogger and took deliberate aim right across Yvonne’s chest. The flogger thrashed down, the many leather strands splaying out so that they thrashed over a wide area of the soft, white flesh of Yvonne’s breasts. She gave an awful howling wail and threshed about in an effort to break free. Peter liked this and began flogging Yvonne’s tits from different angles, watching the many leather strands impacting into the flesh as they struck with force.
Thirty or forty blows had Yvonne screaming with the unbearable pain that filled her body. Her tits were battered, swollen, and covered in terrible red abrasions.
Peter once more surveyed his work and considered that Yvonne’s arms and legs were, as yet, relatively unscathed. He immediately set to work with a flat leather belt to rectify this situation, systematically belting all the way up the arms from Yvonne’s bound wrists, right up to her shoulders, and landing plenty of vicious blows right into the armpits.
Once both arms were red and battered, he then took the riding crop and turned his attention to Yvonne’s legs, beating them cruelly from all different directions and angles, and paying particular attention to the back of her knees and right up in her oh so tender groin.
Peter loved the frantic, uncontrolable screaming and howling that Yvonne made in her agony. She was beginning to go a little hoarse from all of this screaming, but, to Peter, it just lent a sexiness to her voice when she intermittently pleaded with him to stop.
Peter realised that he too was becoming a bit dry in the throat after all of his work on Yvonne. He glanced at his watch and realised that he had been working on this slut for almost two hours. He realised that he was both hungry and thirsty so he left Yvonne sobbing in her pain and misery, and went off for a brief moment to get himself a drink.
Yvonne lay there and eventually stopped sobbing and began to regain some sanity. She raised her head as much as she could, and looked down over her swollen, lacerated body, her damaged breasts, and her beaten arms and legs.
She considered how stupid she was to allow herself to be used for this sort of thing, and yet, at the same time she was filled with satisfaction that she drove men to use her in this way. Her body was so very sore, she ached all over, and she felt dazed and groggy. In spite of this she still felt a sexual satisfaction in her pain.
Yvonne drifted into a sort of reverie. She was suddenly aroused by the sound of Peter’s voice as he once more stood over her.
“You sexy little cunt,” he said, grinning broadly.
“Thank you,” Yvonne softly whispered as she looked up at him.
“Ready for more of the same,” he asked, grinning even wider.
Yvonne said nothing in reply, torn between the strong desire to be released and allowed to go home, and the wilfully perverted desire to be used further for these sadistic pursuits.
She knew anyway, that her answer would be totally meaningless as Peter would do whatever he wanted regardless of her reply.
Yvonne’s heart sank as she watched Peter take up the heavy leather, brass studded belt that he had previously told her of.
“Oh God, no,” she wailed pitifully. “No! No! That is too cruel, too brutal,” she cried pleadingly.
Anyone else would have been so moved by the tone of Yvonne’s plea, that they would have released her immediately, but not so Peter. He was stimulated to further extremes of cruelty by Yvonne’s heartfelt plea.
Crash! The first blow with the heavy belt came down across her midriff. Yvonne screamed and then her screaming went into a frantic pleading to be spared. She just could not take this ghastly, horrible thrashing with the studded belt.
Peter ignored her and continued to flog and scourge Yvonne’s body as she screamed and wrenched violently at her bonds. She was screaming, howling, wailing, completely out of her mind with the pain being inflicted upon her.
“Oh yes, yes! Go you fucking little whore!” Peter gloated, thrilled and getting more and more excited at the way that Yvonne was now being driven mad. Her frantic, uncontrollable screaming was driving him on, exciting him, thrilling him, gorging him with lust at the wild, frantic heaving and screeching of his victim.
More and more blows rained down. Harder and harder. Faster and faster. More and more violent. Indiscriminately lashing all over Yvonne’s body. He stood astride her and brought the heavy, studded belt down between Yvonne’s spread thighs and right across her exposed, gaping pussy. Yvonne’s screams were piercing. Again and again he thrashed between her legs with wild abandon. Yvonne’s face was contorted with pain and terror as she screamed and screamed and screamed.
Peter became more and more excited and out of control with Yvonne’s crazed reactions to his viciously sadistic belting. “You stupid, fucking, whore, cunt,” he lustful snarled as he put every effort into his work.
Finally, not through any feeling of mercy or compassion, but simply because of his desire to fuck this slut, Peter threw the belt aside and, getting between her naked thighs, he mounted Yvonne’s battered body and fucked her in a frenzy of lust.