of the same. He reached up and fiddled with the cuffs at her wrists, unlocking them. He did the same at her ankles, freeing her totally.
“Turn around, face the wall,” he ordered.
She cradled her aching wrists to her chest. Her arms felt weird and cold from being yanked above her head like that, even if it hadn’t been for very long.
She did as he asked, resting her hands against the stone wall. She was still scared, but dazed with it. She was travelling the darkest path of sexual discovery and in that moment there was no turning back, not for anything.
The flayed ends of the whip slapped against her buttocks, repeatedly and at speed. He used the same pressure he had on her front; not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to make her skin sing out; an intense sensation that balanced on the edge of pain without tipping over.
He worked the cat o’ nines over her shoulders, back and thighs before returning once more to her bottom.
The whipping increased in intensity; he used less speed, more force. She cried out at each hard thwack on her backside. It took a moment for her fevered brain to work out that he was hurting her. She had grown accustomed to the feel of the whip all over her body and the pain had crept up on her without her being able to pinpoint the exact moment it had started.
Every slap on her backside made her cry out and her body jolt.
“Please! You’re hurting me,” she gasped.
“That’s kind of the point. Be a good girl and take it.”
Dimly, she was aware of the door to the basement opening and footsteps on the stairs.
“Nice work,” said a male voice she didn’t recognise.
“Thanks. She looks great, doesn’t she?”
“Yeah. Give her one for me, won’t you?”
They laughed, and she heard the intruder’s footsteps recede.
She gasped and flinched when she felt his fingers slip between her legs from behind. Just a few strokes of her aching clit and she was coming hard on his hand. Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her and she sobbed at the intensity of the pleasure and the humiliation.
Then it was all over and there was just cold, empty air on her back. She slumped against the wall for support, her breathing ragged and her arse-cheeks throbbing sharply.
“Shall we go, then?”
She turned her head sharply, her mind in turmoil, her body aching. “After what you did to me, you just want to go ?”
“Yes? What’s your problem?”
Hope could barely put her confused thoughts into words. “You just beat me and now you’re acting like it didn’t happen?”
“I told you, we had to make it look good and now is a good time to make our escape.”
“But you said we had to wait, until it was quieter.”
“I didn’t say for how long.”
“You just wanted to abuse me.”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “Are we going or not?”
He handed her the jumper that he had ripped off her body earlier, and she snatched it out his outstretched hand.
“I’ll take that as a yes, then. Follow me.”
Pulling on the jumper, she stumbled after him. He was running up the stairs, taking them two at a time, his gun held out in front of him.
Christ, he thinks he’s James fucking Bond .
He reached the door and pushed it open, his back pressed against the wall and the gun held upright in front of his face.
Oh God, this is ridiculous, he’s going to get us both killed, he hasn’t got a clue what he’s doing .
“Stick close, don’t make a sound.”
Rohan stepped into the deserted hallway and she followed close on his heels.
I can’t let him do this. He’s going to get my brother killed …
“Rohan?” she asked softly.
“What,” he snapped, obviously irritated.
“I’m sorry…” Before she had time to change her mind, or question the wisdom of her actions, she brought her knee up to his groin for the second time. “Help!” she screamed at the top of her voice, wrestling with him for control of the gun.
The hallway was filled up with Mick’s heavies in a matter of
“Turn around, face the wall,” he ordered.
She cradled her aching wrists to her chest. Her arms felt weird and cold from being yanked above her head like that, even if it hadn’t been for very long.
She did as he asked, resting her hands against the stone wall. She was still scared, but dazed with it. She was travelling the darkest path of sexual discovery and in that moment there was no turning back, not for anything.
The flayed ends of the whip slapped against her buttocks, repeatedly and at speed. He used the same pressure he had on her front; not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to make her skin sing out; an intense sensation that balanced on the edge of pain without tipping over.
He worked the cat o’ nines over her shoulders, back and thighs before returning once more to her bottom.
The whipping increased in intensity; he used less speed, more force. She cried out at each hard thwack on her backside. It took a moment for her fevered brain to work out that he was hurting her. She had grown accustomed to the feel of the whip all over her body and the pain had crept up on her without her being able to pinpoint the exact moment it had started.
Every slap on her backside made her cry out and her body jolt.
“Please! You’re hurting me,” she gasped.
“That’s kind of the point. Be a good girl and take it.”
Dimly, she was aware of the door to the basement opening and footsteps on the stairs.
“Nice work,” said a male voice she didn’t recognise.
“Thanks. She looks great, doesn’t she?”
“Yeah. Give her one for me, won’t you?”
They laughed, and she heard the intruder’s footsteps recede.
She gasped and flinched when she felt his fingers slip between her legs from behind. Just a few strokes of her aching clit and she was coming hard on his hand. Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her and she sobbed at the intensity of the pleasure and the humiliation.
Then it was all over and there was just cold, empty air on her back. She slumped against the wall for support, her breathing ragged and her arse-cheeks throbbing sharply.
“Shall we go, then?”
She turned her head sharply, her mind in turmoil, her body aching. “After what you did to me, you just want to go ?”
“Yes? What’s your problem?”
Hope could barely put her confused thoughts into words. “You just beat me and now you’re acting like it didn’t happen?”
“I told you, we had to make it look good and now is a good time to make our escape.”
“But you said we had to wait, until it was quieter.”
“I didn’t say for how long.”
“You just wanted to abuse me.”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “Are we going or not?”
He handed her the jumper that he had ripped off her body earlier, and she snatched it out his outstretched hand.
“I’ll take that as a yes, then. Follow me.”
Pulling on the jumper, she stumbled after him. He was running up the stairs, taking them two at a time, his gun held out in front of him.
Christ, he thinks he’s James fucking Bond .
He reached the door and pushed it open, his back pressed against the wall and the gun held upright in front of his face.
Oh God, this is ridiculous, he’s going to get us both killed, he hasn’t got a clue what he’s doing .
“Stick close, don’t make a sound.”
Rohan stepped into the deserted hallway and she followed close on his heels.
I can’t let him do this. He’s going to get my brother killed …
“Rohan?” she asked softly.
“What,” he snapped, obviously irritated.
“I’m sorry…” Before she had time to change her mind, or question the wisdom of her actions, she brought her knee up to his groin for the second time. “Help!” she screamed at the top of her voice, wrestling with him for control of the gun.
The hallway was filled up with Mick’s heavies in a matter of
Similar Books
