Love and Betrayal Ch. 15

Precisely four weeks had passed since Becci broke down and gave a final and complete confession about the events in Henley's scrapyard to Paul, describing in lurid detail everything she'd let those men do to her. Four weeks during which she had been confined to home, denied clothes and required to await approval after she had performed each chore. Four weeks of only being allowed to pleasure Paul with her mouth. Four weeks since her aching pussy had been stretched and filled. Four weeks since she heard him say he loved her.

Becci had carefully followed every instruction Paul gave her. Her body hair had been left untouched. She bathed and exfoliated her skin, applied signal red nail polish with lipstick to match and fixed her hair up, but with a few stray ringlets hanging down. She had been permitted to wear only the Louboutin heels her sister had bought her for her wedding. Now in the reflection of their full-length bedroom mirror, she thought they just made her look like a whore. Perhaps it was because she had behaved like a whore.

She walked into the lounge hesitantly. The room was lit only by candles, but her eyes were immediately drawn to a metal hook fixed to the ceiling, with a length of rope attached. Paul was sitting beside their coffee table, with her waxing kit and his headmaster's leather strap resting beside several gifts waiting for her.

Becci carefully unwrapped each in turn; silicone earplugs, blackout contact lenses, leather wrist and ankle cuffs and a crude pronged implement that filled her with dread.

Paul spoke slowly and deliberately, "It is a cattle prod, designed to control livestock." Was that all she was to him now? Livestock? She lay across his knee and held each ear canal open as he inserted the silicone plugs and sealed them in place with molten candle wax. She similarly complied by holding her eyelids open in case the insertion of the blackout contact lenses triggered an unhelpful blink.

Becci knelt deaf and blind before him, and felt him tighten the firm leather cuffs around her wrists, linking them together using a metal ring. For a minute she could sense nothing, then she felt her wrists being pulled up, hauling her to her feet and stretching her arms towards the ceiling, pulling them taut.

His hands ran down over her body; what was he thinking? He could and should punish and fuck her, but did he still love her? Had she destroyed that? She winced as hot wax was smeared on her arm pit and a cloth strip applied. The discomfort eased as the wax cooled and hardened, only to be replaced by sudden pain as the hair was ripped from her body. Paul diligently worked along, pulling each strip of hair from its roots. Her lower arms and legs followed, although the growth there was very light.

Sex juices wept from Becci's neglected pussy in fear, longing and anticipation. Paul hooked one of her legs over his shoulder, splaying her open and pulling her skin taut. She was acutely aware of his warm breath on her vulva, soon followed by more hot wax. She knew what was coming next; normally he would distract her, but in this moment her entire attention was focused on those few tender inches of skin. The pain was searing as her pubic hair was avulsed, and the next strip was applied and ripped from her before the pain of the last one had eased. In minutes she was bare.

She tensed and screamed in stinging agony as a moist cloth touched her pussy. This wasn't the soothing cream supplied with the waxing kit. She could smell harsh antiseptic. Her leg fell to the floor only to squirm and spasm as he used the same fluid to sterilise her armpits. Gradually the pain faded to a light tingle.

Becci hung from the ceiling aware only of the pressure on her wrists. She winced as she felt his touch; no, no, it was OK. Just oil. Just oil being carefully applied to every inch of her body. She welcomed his hands, especially over her breasts, inner thighs and pussy. Leather cuffs tightened around her ankles and her legs were forced apart by a spreader bar, increasing the strain on her arms. Then there was nothingness again.

She could not see him wipe the leather strap with a little oil. He didn't want to leave any permanent marks on her unblemished skin. She did not hear the implement cut through the air. She just felt the sudden pain as the harsh leather struck her skin, the intensity heightened all the more as it was the only thing she could perceive. Through the pain she counted each blow on her buttocks. She hadn't been told to, but she thought this would be expected, and that it might please him.

At ten there was a break; was this it? Just ten slaps? No; a sudden volley of strikes worked up both sides of her body, from her thighs, over her pussy and bum, back, belly and tits to her shoulders and upper arms, coming so close to her face that she felt the air rush. Too fast and too many to count. Then another volley charged back down to her pussy.

Paul gazed at her reddened skin and watched her breasts heave with each breath. She hadn't noticed the box of bulldog clips on the windowsill. She certainly wasn't expecting the first to snap closed on her nipple. More followed working up her breast and down her belly to her labia, mirrored on the other side. Each clip giggled and tore at her skin as they were pulled together. Becci realised he was threading a string through them.

She hung acutely aware of each clip pinching her tender skin for what seemed like an eternity. Suddenly one side was ripped from her body, closely followed by the other. As the clips were torn from her skin, the sudden shock served only to heighten her pain, which lingered longer than she expected. When the pain finally began to fade, she was left acutely aware of the coolness of the surrounding air at each point where a clip had been attached.

Paul's fingers traced the line where they had been, returning to gently caress her breasts and nipples again. As he sucked the soft mounds of flesh into his mouth, she felt the warmth of his body against her. He was now naked, his erect cock pressing into her thigh and soft belly. This clearly excited him, but also her. Something she couldn't explain.

He pulled away and time passed. Was he still there? Was he simply watching her? Was he touching himself? Masturbating? Or sipping fine wine whilst he listened to music? That question was answered when two cold metal prongs touched her left areola either side of her nipple; her breathing became light and shallow as she braced herself. The metal lingered on the tender pink circle of flesh for several seconds then a jolt of electricity shot through her body. Others followed; on the sides of her breasts, her other nipple, her neck, belly and sensitive inner thighs. Sometimes she felt the caress of the metal but no pain followed. It was random, but more often than not a shock designed to subdue a cow was delivered to her petite and delicate body.

Finally, the prongs touched her slit, teasingly tracing their way along its length. A series of shocks followed in rapid succession, working from her clit along her labia to her anus. The muscles surrounding her intimate area convulsed, her vagina and anus spasmed tightly closed.

Becci was acutely aware of every inch of her tortured body. A gentle caress transiently lessened her shame and pain. The bar between her ankles was released, allowing her to fully straighten and easing the tension on her wrists. They were then lowered and unhooked. She felt unexpected panic. What was she meant to do? She couldn't hear his instructions to follow, but she could feel his touch.

Paul's hands guided her to the floor and onto her back. He placed her hands on her buttocks and raised her legs; she realised he wanted her to hold her pelvis in the air, legs pointing to the ceiling. Trembling she complied with a few frightened tears. His strong hands ran down her inner legs and thighs, pressing outwards and widely separating them. Becci imagined how she looked, her bare reddened vulva fully exposed. She also imagined his bulbous cock twitching. Dark thoughts intruded; what if he had invited the men from Henley's, what if he had sold her to them to be gang-raped again this time in front of him? What if she faced a new life of selling her body?

Seconds later the leather strap struck her with unexpected force; she collapsed into the foetal position crying. She felt him hold her firmly in his arms for the longest time as the pain eased. His lips met hers, then with gentle kisses soothed each mark on her body.

Paul lifted her onto her feet and led her out of the lounge. She took small careful steps in her Louboutin heels, while he carefully ensured she found the bottom stair. He eased her down onto the soft sheets in their bedroom, kissing and caressing every inch of her, but focusing most acutely on her lips. Her tongue searched for his and they entwined. Tracing the path of the welts on her skin with his fingers, soon followed by his lips.

Paul worked down her slender neck, the sides of her breasts, her nipples and belly, then to her sensitive inner thighs. Finally, she felt his hot breath at her entrance, his moist tongue running between the folds of her inner lips to explore her pussy, her clitoris being sucked into his mouth. She still could not see or hear anything.

Paul broke free returning to move up her body and bringing his stained erect penis to her lips, milking his musky crystal clear precum into her hungry mouth. Her lips surrounded his manhood, and her hands grasped his buttocks as she welcomed him into her mouth, frantically trying to please him, tongue swirling and head bobbing, pulling him deeper and deeper until his tense glans slid over the back of her tongue and into her tight throat.

Paul lingered enjoying the intense pleasure of the moment. How could he not forgive her? Perhaps the pleasure of having such an eager and unrestrained little slut had to come at a price? But could she be trained? He broke free leaving her gasping as he dived back down onto her pussy, probing her vagina with his tongue, then rose up and thrust his cock firmly into her, pounding her small, slender body. This time there was no edging, just an unrelenting hard fuck until he came, and came powerfully, deep inside her with her arms and legs wrapped around him, pulling him into her, holding him there.

He recovered quickly and was soon welcomed inside her again. Cumming inside her again. Between couplings they lay with their limbs entwined and genitals and sheets soaked in their sex. Lost in the pleasure of her, his fingers pressed inside her and spread and massaged his spent cum over her vulva, thighs and belly, up over her breasts to her lips, and even running his fingers through her hair. But this freedom was not long lived and his thoughts returned to the others she had let do this and more to her.

In her present state Becci was entirely dependent on him. He ran a bath of cool clear water, and returned to ease her stilettos off her feet and led her into the bathroom. She obediently stepped into the bath, shivering as she slowly eased her body down into the water. His hands ran over the goose pimples that rose on her skin.

He pulled her arms behind her back, projecting her little tits forward, and once again secured her wrists. Her nipples stood out defiantly proclaiming her sexuality. Slowly his hands worked down over her body and legs to her ankles then hesitated, holding them tightly. He was standing with his legs across the bath to provide a firm footing.

In darkness and silence Becci became anxious, even fearful as he continued to hold her. It seemed like several minutes passed. She initially apologised and pleaded, but could not hear his response, if there was one. Finally, she fell silent in acceptance.

Suddenly he pulled her ankles up to his chest, sending her head crashing under the water. Becci instinctively struggled, but she was too weak to raise her head free from the water, not even for a second, not for a single breath. Her stomach muscles burned in pain from her futile effort. Gradually she stopped struggling and even resisted the reflex to squirm under water for freedom.

The water became almost still; just a few bubbles of air escaping from her lips. Her thoughts returned not to this struggle, but to every obscene violation of her body she had allowed other men to perform on her, sometimes encouraging them. She couldn't resist the urge to breathe any longer, or maybe she didn't want to. Her lips parted and her chest started to rise. Paul looked at her in shock; it had been less than a minute! His strong arms pulled her to the surface, coughing and spluttering, as he lifted her free from the water.

She was shivering violently and her lips were blue as she fought for breath. He had grossly underestimated how quickly her body would lose heat submerged in cool, no almost cold, water. Paul quickly wrapped a warm towel with his arms around her. She smiled through her distress; it wasn't just that he was holding onto her so tightly, but that he was also trembling.

He emptied and refilled the tub, this time with warm water and scented bath salts. He took the towel from her and led her back by her hand. With a sharp breath she steadied her nerves and stepped into the water. She was instantly relieved that it was warm. Paul joined her and washed her with the greatest care, including her long flowing locks of hair.

Once out of the bath he wrapped her wet hair in a towel as he'd watched her do so many times before, then dried her skin. He had spent his finest hour watching her bathe in an elegant roll-top bath decadently placed at the foot of their bed in their honeymoon suite in Paris. He remembered how she'd tried to coax him in, but he simply savoured the spectacle. Something he would tell her later, when he restored her hearing.

With that memory he plunged back into her on the bathroom floor, except this time he held her head and kissed her lips passionately. He found and teased her clitoris with his fingers, ensuring she came, before bringing his spurting cock to her lips to swallow every drop of his cum. After all, he had just washed her pussy and maybe she did deserve a little attention later.

Dinner was a simple steak with peppercorn sauce. He watched her eat deprived of sight and sound, yet so careful not to make a mess or even appear less than elegant. She rather suited being barefoot, naked and deprived of her senses. Earlier the water had loosened the candle wax in her ears. Paul gently pulled it free with the silicone earplugs beneath and whispered, "Let me dim the light so it doesn't hurt your eyes as I remove your lenses."

He reminded her of Paris and told her how he felt as he watched her bathe. Becci burst into tears and fell into his arms mumbling apology after apology. He hushed her, "That is no longer necessary." He figured that he should just continue to hold her and reassure her into the night and maybe they could share a bottle of wine together. That may have been the right thing to do, but his cock surged back into life and pressed into her thigh.

No other girl could do this to him. He had never fucked a previous girlfriend more than 3 times in a day, yet with Becci he had hit double figures several times. Her lips fell back onto the swollen tip and a few of her tears rolled from her cheeks onto his shaft and balls. He nearly erupted in that moment. There would be time for wine later.