Blow

She felt the strike like a line of white hot fire across her back. She tried to arch, to scream, but though her need to writhe was fierce, the ropes tying her to the cross were far too tight to allow for any movement at all.

Bound wrists, ankles, thighs, arms, waist, and neck, all she could do was quiver.

The scream stayed locked behind her lips; only the most guttural of sounds came from her throat. The duct tape covering her mouth, holding her panties within tamped down all extraneous noises.

A new line of pain screamed over her backside, a thin ribbon of heavy pain. Sweat and tears ran down her face. Muscles bunched and quivered.

He was single-minded in his work, hitting the back of her legs, her ass, her shoulders. Cane, whip, flogger, she had no idea what implement was being used. She only knew she couldn’t take much more. The heat was unbearable. The hurt was equally so.

She blinked, washing sweat from her eyes with her tears.

A cool hand slid over her burning body.  Fingers probed her from a warm hand. There were no sounds she could hear, headphones over her head, playing classical music loudly enough to steal even that sense from her.

There had been many in the room watching. Now there were many in the room touching.

Her orgasm splashed the floor between her legs.

She couldn’t hear it.

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