The Cabin
folder
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
27,063
Reviews:
31
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
27,063
Reviews:
31
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
The Punishment
I lay there on the tile floor coughing and gasping for breath after he punched me. He left the room for a moment, but I could not move, I was doubled over in pain. What had I done to deserve this suffering? What else could he possibly do to me?
He came back in and collected me off the floor, not before striking me hard across my cheekbone. I was sobbing, and the tears ran through the blood on my face staining the floor where they fell. Throwing me face down on the bed in the master bedroom, he reached for the items he had just placed in the room. He once again cuffed me to the bed, this time deftly and vehemently. There was no blindfold, but he pulled something much different out of the bag.
“I want you to watch as I do this.”
The cream comforter on my bed was now soaked with blood and tears where my head lay. I screamed as I saw what he was holding. He pulled his arm back and threw it down with all his might, a crack was the only sound that was heard from it. The whip had little barbs on the end, which dug into my back like teeth, slicing me open. I decided not to cry, not to scream, not to flinch, but show no emotion as he did this, hoping that it would make him stop. He whipped me across my shoulder blades, then my lower back, and finally my rear, which hurt the most.
He put his face next to mine and asked if I would obey now, in reply I spit his blood that was still in my mouth at him. He struck me across the other cheekbone as vengeance. Then stepping back he whipped me again, this time harder and faster as if I were a whipping boy paying for another’s sins. I could feel the warmth of blood upon my back. He stopped. I shut my eyes tightly to avoid seeing what he was doing. I tried to imagine the morning before, but in my mind, I could not taste the sweetness of the air, or hear the birds chirping.
The bed shifted under his weight. He gripped the cheeks of my raw and sore rear and spread them apart. I knew what he was about to do, but I did not want to believe it. He worked his way inside me about and inch, then thrust the rest of himself in. The pain was almost unbearable. He pulled out slowly then drove himself in again. He continued like this while running his nails down my sliced back. Then he reached underneath me and seized my breasts; twisting, pulling, and squeezing them with force.
He ravaged my rear until I could feel nothing anymore, but I knew he continued by the power at which it took to make me move that far up and down on the bed. The cuffs on my ankles were straining and cutting into my legs. I had tried to fight, I had tried to resist, but he was too big, too strong, and too adamant, I had no chance. He came inside of me then leaned down to my ear.
“Never disobey me.”
Then he rolled off the bed and went into the master bath where I heard him turn on the shower. Covered in my own blood and his semen I sobbed. When I knew he was in the shower I strained as hard as my tired body would let me on the cuffs, trying to break free, but all they did was cut me deeper. Exhausted I gave up and waited for him to get out of the shower.
He came back in and collected me off the floor, not before striking me hard across my cheekbone. I was sobbing, and the tears ran through the blood on my face staining the floor where they fell. Throwing me face down on the bed in the master bedroom, he reached for the items he had just placed in the room. He once again cuffed me to the bed, this time deftly and vehemently. There was no blindfold, but he pulled something much different out of the bag.
“I want you to watch as I do this.”
The cream comforter on my bed was now soaked with blood and tears where my head lay. I screamed as I saw what he was holding. He pulled his arm back and threw it down with all his might, a crack was the only sound that was heard from it. The whip had little barbs on the end, which dug into my back like teeth, slicing me open. I decided not to cry, not to scream, not to flinch, but show no emotion as he did this, hoping that it would make him stop. He whipped me across my shoulder blades, then my lower back, and finally my rear, which hurt the most.
He put his face next to mine and asked if I would obey now, in reply I spit his blood that was still in my mouth at him. He struck me across the other cheekbone as vengeance. Then stepping back he whipped me again, this time harder and faster as if I were a whipping boy paying for another’s sins. I could feel the warmth of blood upon my back. He stopped. I shut my eyes tightly to avoid seeing what he was doing. I tried to imagine the morning before, but in my mind, I could not taste the sweetness of the air, or hear the birds chirping.
The bed shifted under his weight. He gripped the cheeks of my raw and sore rear and spread them apart. I knew what he was about to do, but I did not want to believe it. He worked his way inside me about and inch, then thrust the rest of himself in. The pain was almost unbearable. He pulled out slowly then drove himself in again. He continued like this while running his nails down my sliced back. Then he reached underneath me and seized my breasts; twisting, pulling, and squeezing them with force.
He ravaged my rear until I could feel nothing anymore, but I knew he continued by the power at which it took to make me move that far up and down on the bed. The cuffs on my ankles were straining and cutting into my legs. I had tried to fight, I had tried to resist, but he was too big, too strong, and too adamant, I had no chance. He came inside of me then leaned down to my ear.
“Never disobey me.”
Then he rolled off the bed and went into the master bath where I heard him turn on the shower. Covered in my own blood and his semen I sobbed. When I knew he was in the shower I strained as hard as my tired body would let me on the cuffs, trying to break free, but all they did was cut me deeper. Exhausted I gave up and waited for him to get out of the shower.