He wandered the streets of the Rossebuurt, looking for her in the windows. All women seemed available to him, the voluptuary and the waif, the mistress and the slave, the housewife and the teen, but none were her. Nearly despairing, he turned down an alley, catching glimpses of forms moving past a barely-translucent frosted window. As he stopped to watch, one stopped also and stood before him. Her form was distorted by the irregularities of the glass, but he knew it was her and he called out to her. She answered his call, her voice reaching him through a crack that allowed the passage of words alone; no sight, no touch, no taste, no scent, and no sound save their words could pass through the glass.
And her words wove a web of surreal lust and desire that told him she was the one he had sought. And he smithed such words back to her, to entangle himself in her web and to bind her to him. Until, at last, she called on him to reach the end of the alley and enter to find her in and of the flesh. He found the door beside a sign that read "Enter, and Abandon All Hope," but neither woman nor man was to be found behind it. He heard her voice echoing down a corridor of myriad labeled doors with a garish neon sign flashing "All Women ARE Yours;" he followed, and opened one that said "Dark Tangiers."
The room within was draped with rich cloths strung from ceiling to walls as if a tent, and with carpets of elaborate geometric designs covering the floor. In the centre was a woman, not yet twenty, her arms stretched above her, hands bound to the centre of the ceiling with a thick silk rope. She was utterly naked, even the fine hairs of her pubis waxed off to emphasize her vulnerability. He caught the scent of perfume from her hair as he gazed on her long black tresses, falling over her shoulders, her back, and her small, firm, young breasts. Her deep brown eyes looked imploringly at him as she silently twisted and turned, desperately trying to keep her balance from the rope that left only her toes to touch the floor. To one side was a small table, intricately carved of cedar, and bearing a coiled whip of braided horsehair, a stallion's penis forming its handle. She was not the one he sought, but still his breath grew deeper and his blood rose as he stared intently at her flawless olive flesh while reaching for the whip.
He held the whip, still coiled, at his side as he approached the centre of the room. He reached towards her, and she mistook the slowness of his movements for tenderness. The disappointment in her eyes was dispelled in a moment as he caught hold of the locks that lay on her breasts and shoved them rudely between her bound and raised arms. He reached behind and yanked her head backward by the luxuriant black mane to expose her throat as completely as her breasts. Her nipples stiffened with excitement and anticipation as he pressed the coils of the whip against her throat and drew them roughly downward, scraping them across her ariola and stretching her swollen nipple until it burst free of the whip. He released her hair and quickly took hold of her pubis, probing her labia with thrusts of his fingers as she struggled to maintain her balance. His fingers confirmed what her flinching at their touch had suggested: a resilient membrane still covered the entrance to her untouched sheath. The probing continued, moving backward along her perineum, until his fingers met her tight and tiny anus. She flinched at this touch as well, and in response he pressed against her until the puckered flesh yielded, and she gasped in pained pleasure at the sudden intrusion of his fingers driven their full length inside her. He withdrew his hand and stepped back a few paces from her, and she lowered her acceptant eyes as he stared at her.
Her attempts to maintain her balance turned and twisted her body in a random and furtive dance of helplessness that inflamed his darkest passions and desires. He watched as she shifted her weight from the tips of one set of red-enameled toes to the other and then lashed out with the whip, snapping its tip on the sole of her left foot. As she cried out and recoiled in pain, her body wobbled erratically on the other toes, undulating the flesh of her heaving breasts. Before she could regain use of her left foot, his whip struck the sole of her right, and the sharp pain left her swinging freely, the whole of her weight straining on her bound wrists. Each time she tried to secure a toe-hold on the floor, now, his whip struck the offending foot, until, after a half-dozen attempts, she leveled her toes and resigned herself to hanging completely helpless in front of him.
His attention moved up her legs, and he lashed the whip behind her, raising one red welt after another across her calves. She stifled her cries as the whip moved up to the back and, as he shortened his grip, front of her thighs. He paused to regard the three scarlet stripes now lining the olive skin of her smooth and silken thighs, and the sight brought a pearl of salty fluid to the tip of his stiffened cock. Now he struck behind her again, and she sobbed as the cheeks of her ass were lashed until she could feel a rivulet of blood run down to her leg. His last strike had circled her hips and left a swelling line on her abdomen, and he held a moment, breathing heavily as he shook out the coils of the whip. With an underhanded flick, he sent the tip of the whip speeding towards her and jerked it back to snap it on her bare and vulnerable pussy , directly on the flesh covering her clitoris. Her scream pierced the air, extending into every corner of the room, and then descended slowly into a moan of pleasured pain so deep and guttural that his balls and cock vibrated in resonance to it.
He savoured the feel of her moan as he watched the circle of red rising where his whip had struck, swelling the flesh with blood until it nearly burst through her skin. Then he lashed gently with the whip, coiling it twice around her waist. With a sharp pull he withdrew the whip and sent her body spinning like a child's toy. As each revolution brought her naked back to face him, he struck, forehanded from her right shoulder to her waist and, on the next turn, backhanded, descending from the left. Her sobs grew deeper as her turning slowed, and he stared intently at her back, her olive tone now lost in the scarlet that ran from shoulder blades to hips. When her spinning ceased, she was facing him, and, save for the single stripe on her belly, the rich colour of her body was still to be seen. A quick shallow breath, and he lashed again, forehanded, laterally at her breasts, the whip hitting the left at full force and then dragging itself across her erect nipples to the right. She barely managed to stifle a rising scream when his backhand tore across her breasts from right to left. Her head flew backward between her stretched arms as she screamed with such an intensity that it closed her throat and reduced her cry to a breath of despair.
She swung limply at the end of the rope, her pained, shallow breaths propelling her in random directions as her toes grazed the floor . The blood dripping slowly from her lashes traced her path in deep scarlet among the colors of the carpet beneath her. He watched her body shuddering as it swung and slowly stripped off his clothes, freeing his swollen, throbbing cock from its confinement. He stepped up to her, his organ brushing against her belly, and roughly stroked his hand down her chest, taking hold of her nipple and stretching her breast taut. The coiled whip was in his other hand, and he brought it down sharply on the top of her breast to tear it free of his grip. He pressed the coils against her body and dragged it down across her abdomen, thrusting it between her thighs and forcing it upward to spread her labia. A wave of pain and pleasure coursed through her as he yanked the coils up across her clitoris, and his hot fluid spewed onto her as his cock felt the trembling in her belly.
Reaching between her arms, he now grabbed her head by its perfumed hair and brought it back in front of her. He unrolled the whip and coiled it around her throat until the remaining length matched the distance from her throat to her buttocks, letting it hang free behind her. The pull of the whip tilted her head upward, and he bent his head down towards her five-foot tall body, bringing his lips to meet hers. He kissed her gently and then took her lower lips firmly between his teeth to keep her body upright as he spread her thighs and lifted her above his erect cock. As he held her there with one hand, the other took the handle of the whip and drove the ten inches of stallion penis into her tight ass. Her cry of pain pulsed fresh blood to swell his penis, and he positioned its head against her resilient hymen. He released his bite and let her fall, her weight driving her onto his cock, bursting through her membrane and filling her vagina with his ten inches to match the handle of the whip. Now he grabbed her by the hips and swung her back and forth, sliding her bleeding pussy up and down his organ. She sobbed and moaned at this new intrusion, and her sheath began to convulse in waves of contractions that flowed along his shaft. A final swing, pushing her down to the root of his cock and he erupted again and again, spewing his lava into her as her deep orgasmic moan reverberated though the room. He withdrew from her sheath as blood and semen flowed from her hole, and he roughly drew out the whip's grip from her torn ass.
He stepped back to gaze on his handiwork as her toes once again found support on the carpet. She could feel his pleasure; she heard it in his breaths, smelled it in his sweat, and she saw it in his still-throbbing organ. And she still felt her pleasure, in the tears in her pussy and ass, in the burn of her welts, and in the lingering tremors of her orgasm. With her eyes meekly downcast, she gathered her strength and spoke for the first time: "Thank you, sir."