A Small West Shinjuku Park

She thought that everything was over, she is not ready for this, if not for the handkerchief she would be shouting. The legs move frantically trying to escape the blows, but the crude way her legs are bound together make her attempts futile, if not silly.

She can feel her flesh being cut, the smell of her blood slowly penetrating the air.

The whip made of coiled steel wires that he is using has maximum effect now on her ass, made tender and vulnerable by the table tennis racquet. Her face is a mask of sweat.

But this time also the end comes, and this time is for good.

He let her rest for a while. When he feels that her breath has become more regular, she takes the handkerchief, unties the feet, the hands, and covers her with the blue raincoat.

They head for the public toilet building and she follows him in the male section. Luckily it is empty and sparkling clean. He takes the coat again, asks her to put the hands on the sink, and puts delicately the hands at her waist, pushing her ass high.

He unzips his trousers and she feels his penis brushing her back. It is time for his retribution after the hard job. He looks at the dark entrance at the back and to the glistening pink lips which hide the front entrance. He smells the sweet fragrance of her womanhood and cannot resist.

He puts on a condom and slides his cock inside. The creamy fluid of her excitement seems to overflow her pussy.

The thrusts are quick and effective: no need to hold back. She breathes quickly, the body restrained but her mouth unable to control her moans. In a few minutes he has come inside her. For a while he covers her body with his, remaining inside until his pleasure subsides. She would like to have him inside her forever.

He slides out, unfolds the condom, she kneels and cleans him with her lips, while he caresses her hair.

She stands, he says: "I have to leave now."

Of course. They have nothing else to share, nothing else to say.

He waves goodbye and she is alone. She turns her back to the mirror and looks at her ass. It is an ample red globe, crisscrossed by the open cuts of the final whipping, stretched flesh which releases blood droplets, spread unevenly but abundantly on the whole surface. The dog owner is not alone in liking memory pictures. It is her turn now.

She cleans herself roughly, drying with the paper towels of the automatic distributor such that, when she leaves, it will not be too obvious her status of distress.

She takes the racquet and the whip, dirty of her sweat and her blood, and puts them back in the bag, taking mental notice that she will have to wash them.

She wears the raincoat back on her nude body and leaves with the black suitcase, just when an old man, surprised by her presence, is entering the toilet building.

They will not be able to meet for many days. The intensity of the whipping will require time to heal.

She will go to work, every day and whenever she sits, she will be reminded of the harsh usage the man did of her body. Not only; every day, in the morning and the evening, but she will also take pictures of her exploited buttocks, which she will post to him, as a reminder of his presence on her body.

In the study room, on the last floor of the small detached house where he lives, he is working with his computer, restless. The mail he is waiting for arrives, he opens it, the picture of the naked whipped ass covers the full screen.

He feels the restlessness resolved, his penis becomes stiff, his eyes wander off the minute details of the flesh displayed in front of him.

He owns that body, and he treats it as capriciously as he wants. Yet something escapes him. That body owns him, because the more she abandons herself to him, the more her blind trust traps him.

He cannot hold her, whispering sweet words, but he needs to violate her body, to penetrate her holes without mercy, such that he pushes her away as far as possible, such that he gets a short moment of release from his addiction.

One day a photo will arrive on the monitor where the skin will be white and unblemished. He will know that she has healed, that she badly needs him, and that they are ready to meet again.