Living Arrangements Ch. 03

Patrick struck up between her spread legs with his collected shoelaces, trying to strike the right balance between ticklish and excruciating. From the way she yelped and twitched and squirmed from the assault he continued, he guessed he was doing it right. He felt a sudden satisfaction, replacing his earlier doubt. This wench was his, and he was proving it! She moaned, and the slaps of his improvised flogger began sounding wetter and wetter. Now she was panting and pleading with him, incoherently. "Please, oh, mmm" she squealed and cried. "Patrick, yes, oh, please, ohhhhh." Amy wasn't quite sure what he was saying, but it felt so right and he seemed to enjoy it. The torment she felt in the rest of her was nothing compared to this, pain and pleasure mixing between her legs. But he was stopping. "Nooo!!! Please, please?" He smiled, proudly. She was somehow pleased to be pleasing him. But she wanted him so much. "Are you ready for the last of your whipping?" he asked. "Oh yes. Yes, please?" He pointed at his weight bench. "Lie flat on your stomach and put your ankles under the pads like you were going to lift with them." Amy obeyed quickly and this time he tied her in place. With the shoelaces.

"If you don't want this, scream 'mercy' and I'll stop." Amy decided then and there that she was going to scream anything except mercy. He beat her bruised bottom with a wire coat hanger, and she certainly screamed. Every stroke felt white hot and electric. Her screams seemed to merge into one long scream. The fire between her legs was forgotten, the fire on her ass was everything and she would do anything to escape it. But she didn't scream 'mercy'. She thought there might have been six. It could have been eight. And when it was over, he was stroking her hair tenderly and whispering something very warm in her ear. She smiled through her sobs. He didn't untie her.

Patrick looked down at Amy, all tied up with nowhere to go. She was crying, but her hips were humping the faux leather of his weight bench. Maybe she didn't even realize it. He stroked her hair and whispered how good she had been, how her whipping was over now. He wasn't sure she understood. Then he reached between her legs, grabbing her sex possessively. She whimpered and pressed against him. It was delicious!

Amy felt Patrick's hand like lightning squeezing at the needy aching void at her center, and the fiery pain of her ass was suddenly secondary. "Oh, please, Patrick, please please please." She was well beyond shame in her want for him. Then she felt the cold lotion on her punished backside. He was squeezing, caressing, and massaging. Every touch hurt, but it felt so good too. Then he was massaging inside her anus, her sphincter clenching around his lubed fingers. "Did you forget, Amy darling? I promised to take your sweet virgin ass." A whole new fear shot through her, but she relaxed. If this didn't make her his, she couldn't think of anything that would.

Patrick saw her actually lift her bottom too him, and a wave of desire washed over him, stiffening his already rock hard cock. He pressed it against her slick rosebud and pressed inward, inch by inch. She didn't cry or protest, she moaned with pleasure. He accelerated his pace. It didn't take him long to come. Amy didn't come, but she didn't mind. She felt his seed spurt into her ass, her ass he was filling with his thick manhood. The muscles inside her clenched and clenched again at the void in her pussy. She felt so much sensation, her greedy throbbing clit, her ridiculously sore bottom, the tingling over all her punished skin, and most of all Patrick filling her ass. When he withdrew, spent, she sobbed at the loss and collapsed onto the bench. She felt a sweet lassitude in spite of her need. And Patrick was untying her, cradling her in his arms and crooning gently. He waited until he was sure she could stand before setting her on her feet. Then he said with a smile "Now you know what it's like to be whipped."

She answered with tears in her eyes: "Yes Sir. Yes, Patrick!"

He led her from the bedroom, keeping his promise to do nothing to address the heat between her legs. Patrick made Amy wear a filmy apron and nothing else while she chopped up vegetables for their salad. He grilled steaks in the kitchen. He admitted to being completely and utterly a cheat, since he used an electric grill. She giggled. During dinner, she wore her apron and he placed the bristly welcome mat on the seat of her chair. She couldn't help but think of her whipping all through dinner as her behind was tortured. Patrick was dully dressed, in a black silk shirt that set of his gorgeous green eyes. He almost chattered, about current events, about his job, about things happening in the city on the weekend.

Towards the end of the meal, Patrick asked Amy directly: "So, are you satisfied with your first punishment?"

Sitting on her tenderized buttocks on a prickling surface, Amy wasn't inclined to argue he was too soft on her. And she certainly wouldn't say he was too hard. "Yes, Patrick."

He smiled at her. "Well good. Now if I was really angry with you I probably wouldn't give you a tour of the apartment or take it so easy on you." His expression made it clear he was joking at least a little bit. "So try not to force me to prove it, huh?"

Amy smiled at him, loving him even more. "Of course, Patrick."

After dinner, Patrick carried Amy to bed, declaring he would have her for dessert. He did. He laid her down and declared that she had been so very good, he expected her to have as many orgasms as possible while screaming his name. He laid her down in the missionary position, her legs spread wide, and pounded her, now using his cock to punish her. She didn't mind her raw bottom pressed into the rough blanket. It didn't take her very long to start obeying his last order. She screamed his name all through the night.