Exotic Destination

She smiled back at him with pride, feeling like a spoiled princess, and chatted happily all the way back to the villa, the trauma of her earlier piercing and exhibition seemingly forgotten.

On arriving, he guided her with a firm hand on the back of her neck, straight into the middle of the lounge, to stand in front of the couch on which he had earlier taken her, abused her and ringed her.

"Stand here!"

A short staccato instruction said in a quiet firm tone that expected obedience. She couldn't prevent a flood of confused emotions wash over her as he went to sit on the couch in front of her. The beating of her heart accelerating with her apprehension, knowing that he had something planned, but not knowing what. Why else would she be standing before him, as if on a stage?

"Take off your dress."

She looked at him uncertainly but knew not to resist. He'd seen her naked so many times, this was no different. Except his tone had changed, somewhat husky as if overcome by emotion or lust. Looking into his eyes she saw the hunger, the beast inside, the desire controlling him.

And she saw that it was her that brought it out, made him loose control. This powerful man at the mercy of her womanhood and his lust for her. She almost swooned as a deep sense of her own desirability and femininity flushed over her, shivers spreading over her skin, into her aching nipples and her gushing sex.

As she lifted the hem of her dress, over her tiny moist panties, up past her flat pierced stomach, exposing her perky ringed boobs, she saw his craving grow. She also noticed the growing bulge in his pants, when he pulled off his belt and she uncertainly let the dress flutter to the floor beside her. Standing there before him, her soft female curves displayed to his gluttonous gaze, feeling completely and utterly exposed, despite the tiny panties he had chosen for her earlier.

"Kneel here."

His voice gruff, the animal being unleashed. She dropped gracefully to her knees between his, shoulders back, bottom on her heels, hands on her thighs. Presenting herself, her beautiful round globes, small white triangles against flushed pink skin. Her smooth skin, making him want to touch it, grab it, defile it, but holding back a few moments longer, to build the tension.

Her face a mix of arousal and uncertainty, not knowing what he would do next. But knowing it would be intense, challenging, but hopefully satisfying. But her mind awhirl with the unknown, apprehension unleashing flutters in her gut and pounding in her chest. Her slender shoulders, pulled back, skin stretched taught against her bones and muscles, like a perfect mannequin.

"Stay still."

Holding the end of the belt he tapped the inside of her breast, on the white sensitive skin. Not hard enough to hurt but shocking in its unexpectedness. She flinched away at the sound, the surprise, the sensation of the belt tapping on her tender orb, wobbling with the impact. The disbelief of him hitting her there, her face melting into confusion at this apparent betrayal.

"Doooon't Moooooovel!"

Shoulders back, chest out. Small sharp shoulder-blades jutting from her lean back, reflecting her effort to comply. Her expression was one of concern and fear, but she gritted her teeth and waited silently. Again, he tapped. This time, she stayed still. Against her instinct, against everything her mind was telling her. He struck. She held her position. Again. . . And again. . . And again.

Her skin was getting red and tender after the tenth tap, so he switched to the other untouched side, repeating the rhythmic percussion on her skin. When it too was reddened, he flicked back and forth between them, forehand-backhand like he was playing tennis. Never hard, but insistent and repetitive.

Now her toes were curling, in fact both her feet were clenching, trying to withstand her anguish. Her lips pursed in concentration, stifling any sound. The physical pain was terrible, but it was the emotional hurt that she found most difficult. Having to kneel still while her lover tormented her, for what?

He marvelled at her resilience, her obedience, accepting this totally unnecessary pain for him, not as punishment for any mistake or misdemeanour, but because he told her to. Amazed at her willingness to subjugate herself to his will, allowing her abuse, for no apparent reason other than his amusement.

Surprised at how red her tits were getting, he reached out his left hand to cup her right orb, lift it and slide his thumb over the redness, between each tap. Captivated by the warmth of her skin and the pleading look she gave him as she subconsciously pushed her breast forward into his hand for comfort, hoping that he would stop the relentless torture of her sensitive orbs.

Most other women he had known would give up, in anger or in tears. But she pushed through all of those emotions and took what he gave, just for him and what she wanted or needed from him. He was fascinated at how much further he would be able to push her until she broke, her boundaries shattered.

After about the thirtieth swat on each, it started to really sting. Hunching her shoulders in an attempt to protect her tender mounds, she looked up at him, eyes glistening, a single tear dripping down her cheek and onto her trembling lip. She timidly pleaded. "Please stop, it's hurting."

"It's meant to." He said it gently, with an uncompromising expression but a supportive smile, despite watching a second and then a third tear falling from her eye. Without stopping the relentless rapping. "I want you to stay still, present your tits and take it. To show your love for me, your devotion to me. Just like O!"

In the turmoil of emotion coursing through her young impressionable mind, she held onto his words, love and devotion. He loved her. He cared. More than anyone had before. That's what mattered most. She could do this for him. She fought every instinct in her tiny body in order to hold still for him, not to cry out, not to plead for him to stop.

She thrust out her breasts to meet his relentless belt, setting her jaw bravely, shoulders back, straining so as not to recoil, striving to ignore the pain and earn his praise, as countless tears streamed down her face. Her entire consciousness, all she was at that moment, was focused on her breasts, the agony the only thing she could think of, or could feel.

Her thin torso arched desperately for his indulgence, her ribs clearly defined on her heaving chest, her back arched provocatively, her sobs causing her body to shake so enticingly that he considered halting the beating to move on to the next phased. He wanted to grab the flaming skin to tactilely relish the pain that he saw in her eyes and in her tears. But he knew if he stopped, she would resist any more slaps. And he was not yet finished. . .

So, he didn't stop. He had the patience of an experienced manipulator. By the fiftieth blow her skin was redder than the surrounding sunburn. Silent tears were streaming down her cheeks from her puffy red eyes, but she managed to stay still for him and take the torment without complaint.

"Good girl. I'm so proud of you."

The tension flowed out of her body with his words, when he stopped hitting her. He leaned down and, on each breast, he kissed the burning skin, letting his tongue trail softly towards the nipple which he tenderly sucked. He could feel the heat on his lips and marvelled at her resilience, her courage. Throughout the ordeal, taking everything he had thrown at her. But he was not yet finished. . .

He held her head in his hands, gazed into her eyes and kissed the tears off her cheeks, licking and tasting them sensually, before kissed her forehead and holding his lips against her skin for long moments. For that instant she felt safe and believed that the courage it took to suffer for him was worth it. To show her devotion and earn his love.

Suddenly, he had a tube of skin lotion and was dribbling it onto her inflamed breasts, rubbing it gently with his calloused fingers. While soothing, it chafed the sensitive skin, invoking a dual pleasure-pain sensation that she serenely endured.

"Don't move."

Her almost trance was disturbed when he spoke. He took hold of her pendant to hook an open twist through her left nipple ring. It hurt when he pulled it across to hook another twist to the other nipple ring, effectively drawing her breasts together to create a crevasse from her cleavage, held up by the chain around her neck like some sort of perverse bra.

"Ouch! That hurts. Please take it off." She raised her hands to free herself, but he slapped them down. The combination of her sore nipples, her tortured breasts and her tight sunburned skin meant her breasts had become a focus of more pain and discomfort, rather than any pleasure.

"Leave it! That's what it's designed for."

Realisation washed over her. He had actually bought the pendant for himself, not for her. So that he could use her own jewellery to hurt and degrade her. She was devastated at how naïve and foolish she felt, thinking it was something special just for her. But he had said it was for her being brave and they would both enjoy it. Maybe he meant she could enjoy wearing it and he would enjoy using it like this. That she must be brave now and suffer for him again? To show her love and commitment.

Pulling off his trousers he slid down until his backside was perched on the end of the chair and his thighs spread wide. She looked aghast at his semi-erect organ, bobbing just in front of her chest.

"Suck me hard. And leave some spit on it. You're going to fuck me with your tits, so you'll need the lubrication." His brief instructions had been said in a curt determined manner, but with none of the malice dripping from the content of those words.

She looked at him in frozen horror, not being able to comprehend what he wanted her to do with her agonised breasts.

"NOW!"

He reinforced his resolve by slapping his belt across those very same breasts. Jerking with the blow, she quickly leant forwards to take his cockhead into her mouth, not willing to anger him nor receive any more 'motivation'.

He was hard in a matter of seconds, the eroticism of her slender form kneeling to service him, hands on her thighs, looking up at him in misery, his cock deep in her mouth was too much to resist, even if he had wanted to. This compounded by the power he felt at her obedience, about to hurt herself for his pleasure, provided him the greatest aphrodisiac for his lust. She felt the unwanted swelling in her mouth, realising that she would soon have to rub this big engorged thing between her tender aching mounds. She felt nauseated to her stomach with that thought and exasperated with herself at her lack of will to resist.

"It's time. Slip me between your tits." He was smiling encouragingly at her, relishing her talented mouth, but wanting her complete submission. Her suffering for his enjoyment.

She had seen tit-fucking on porn videos and knew the basics, but none of them looked like this, nor felt like this, she was sure. As his cock slid into the tight gap between her small straining breasts, it simultaneously scraped the tender flesh, scratched the sunburned skin and tugged her sore nipples. In all those videos, the women had large bountiful breasts between which to capture a hard penis. She only had small pert mounds that could hardly squish together, let alone create enough cushion for his stimulation.

Nevertheless, she hunched her waiflike shoulders and pushed the inadequate flesh together from the sides, to ease the stretching of her nubs and the pulling of the chain around her neck. But that only created more friction on her sensitive cleavage. The cream eased his cock's passage, but it felt like hell and she was having to do all the work herself, while he reclined contentedly watching her with amused interest and that dark hunger blazing in his eyes.

However, that didn't stop her from pushing down and pulling up to jerk him off, tormenting herself over and over again, causing moans of pleasure from him and groans of pain from her. She slipped her fingers around the front of her tender orbs, so she could gently grasp her nipples between her fingers in an attempt to dull the pain as she rode him with her chest.

"You'll have to move a bit faster if you want me to cum. That's the only way to finish." His placid voice belying the harsh message of his words. "I know it seems hard, but you must learn to focus on pleasing me. Not on yourself." Watching her intently as she listened, but not meeting his gaze nor acknowledging his command. "Look at me. Do you understand?" A tentative nod, with troubled eyes raised to his unsympathetic face. "Then get on with it."

She started again, squeezing her agonised tits around his turgid shaft, her lips pursed, her forehead scrunched in concentration, new tears streaming down her cheeks, collecting on the tip of her chin. Then dripping onto her breasts, adding insignificantly to the lubrication that wasn't easing the passage of his member between her inflamed breasts.

He was both stunned and thoroughly pleased by how far he had been able to push her. He couldn't get past the fact that most other women would have resisted this pain, but here was this young woman fighting through her dismay and instinctual self-preservation to get him off in the most diabolical manner.

She could only try to ignore her pain, attempting to maximise his pleasure. Even going so far as to improvise by sticking out her tongue as far as she could, chin pressed to her chest, trying to lick the head as it emerged out of the valley created by her bound breasts. Like she had seen in those porn videos.

"You'd better spit on it."

His instruction a response to the cream wearing off, causing his shaft to chafe her skin. She didn't even question now, why she couldn't use more cream. She just tried to find saliva in her dry mouth to shamefully dribble onto her chest to mix with her tears and sweat, to help the glide and avoid her some degree of pain. But still it hurt and was hurting more and more as she carried on, the longer it took. Her silent tears streaming down her face and onto her breasts, the anguish she was feeling seeming to break her very soul, somewhere deep inside.

She was repeating a mantra in her mind 'Please cum. . . Please cum." Over and over, willing his climax and her respite. Pushing her fleshy mounds together more firmly and speeding up, she licked frantically at the pistoning tip. She began sobbing and sweating more with her agonising effort, helping provide the lubrication she needed to slide more and more quickly.

Eventually she felt him tense up, the shaft pulse and then shots of his jism flew out onto her chin and neck, hanging for a moment before it dripped back down onto her inflamed breasts. She had to lift her bound breasts off his still hard erection and knowing what he expected, she diligently licked the concoction of cum, sweat, saliva and cream from his cock.

"Please can you take this off? I did what you wanted." She pleaded nervously, holding her breasts gently, presenting the pendant clasped between them. The sight of her in that position, with her pearl necklace intertwined with the gold chain, looking up at him apprehensively from between his legs, tweaked at his heart in the afterglow of his massive orgasm.

"You did very well, my little dove" Reaching down, unclipping her rings and letting the pendant hang between them as a continual reminder of this ordeal and possible future repeats.

"Rub my cum into your tits."

She obeyed immediately, ignoring the grossness of the act, just relieved her ordeal was over. Not thinking about arousal or pain, just relishing the comforting feeling of caressing her aching breasts and hardened nips.

After watching her debase herself, he leant forward, hands cupping her chin and kissed her tenderly on the lips, only softly using his lips to rub hers, a dramatic contrast from the roughness and callousness of the past hour.

"You've been a good girl for me. Thank you" He whispered, his eyes mere inches from hers, searching her very soul. "Let me run you a cool bath and then I'll rub some soothing after-sun cream all over your body."

And with that, she collapsed forward onto his knees, sobbing deeply, all the emotional intensity of the day crashing through her young inexperienced body and overwhelming her naïve impressionable mind.

A damaged bird who had survived another storm. In need of respite and healing, before the next.

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Chapter 9 - Rewards

He carried her to her room, petite slender body hanging, wrapped in his strong arms like a broken doll, occasional sobs wracking her waiflike frame. He lay her tenderly on the bed and ran a bath with soothing salts.

Submerging her into the welcoming water, he bathed her aching body and calmed her subsiding tears, all the time whispering how proud he was, how special she was, how much she'd pleased him.

She felt conflicted, wanting his praise, but hating that he had hurt her so much for his pleasure, needing to just be alone to collect her thoughts and the shattered pieces of her soul. But she said nothing, just letting him run his hands gently over her. Amazingly soothing for such strong calloused fingers, the same hands and fingers that had inflicted so much pain just minutes before.

Outside rain was pouring down, the howling wind of a tropical storm bringing water off the ocean. It had started suddenly as he put her in the bath, reflecting the turmoil in her mind. She jumped at the first crash of thunder; her delicate features illuminated by the flash of lightning.

He picked her up out of the bath, effortlessly, her light weight no trouble. Taking her out of harms way, or at least the risk of shock from lightening in the bath. She shivered, not from cold or fear of the storm outside, but from him and what he had inflicted on her inside.

Drying her in a huge soft cuddly white bath sheet, he enveloped her small slim frame with its outsized proportions and hugged her close and tight in his powerful arms, as if protecting her from the storm.

He laid her down on top of the sheets, affectionately rubbing after-sun cream into her tender skin. Starting with her breasts, he lightly soothed the inflamed skin, caressing the flesh in small circles, palming the mound and massaging the cream in between his thumb and fingers in a mild grope, each firm globe a perfect handful.

His massage sent delightfully pleasant sensations through her, washing over the painful jabs she felt when he touched the bruises and inflammation he had caused. Making her angry with her body for responding physically to his touch, to the same hands that had hurt her so much.

Then stroking her belly in ever increasing circles, drifting gently over her nipples down to her thighs and up her flanks to her neck and then round again. He saw the goose bumps rise on her sun-reddened skin, as she reacted sensually to his ministrations and the coolness of the cream.

Once the cream was absorbed, he took her hands and pulled them up above her head to overcome the resistance he saw in her watchful eyes. Capturing both her tiny wrists in one enveloping hand, he kissed her, diving into her mouth, tongue first, stifling any protest. His persistent tongue twirling around hers, passive and non-responsive, trapped immobile against her lower jaw in her own mouth. A defiant sigh was all she could muster.

The fingers of his other hand slid up to rub the pale underside of her breasts, then scraping his thumb nail up to her sensitive nips, tugging sensually on the rings. Shocks of new pain stabbing through her already sore skin and nipples.

He felt the crinkling of the thick skin of her areolae as blood surged into her nub, elongating it and sensitising it even more. Rubbing every millimetre of the surrounding areola, using his nail to nick every swollen bump. Sending mixed signals, uncomfortable twinges and delightful shivers, into her chest, up to her neck, down through her stomach and into her loins.