"Fuck!"
Roberta Jean repeated the process with Tammy Cunningham's right arm, once again locking her elbow in the straight position, once again tying the wire around her wrist so tight that the circulation of blood to her hand was completely cut off.
It was not very long at all before Tammy could not feel any more in her right hand than she could in her left.
Tammy remained still on the bed, preserving her energy.
Tammy Cunningham's legs were stretched out toward the foot of the bed. She had her knees and her ankles close together. The recently rendered submissive redhead correctly assumed that Roberta Jean Richardson was not going to allow her knees and ankles to stay close together for very long. Roberta Jean's sworn enemy watched as the blonde moved to the foot of the bed.
Roberta Jean stared at Tammy Cunningham's pink pussy.
Her tits.
Her flat belly.
Her tapered thighs.
Roberta Jean Richardson then jack-knifed sharply at the waist and reached down with straightened arms to grasp both of Tammy's ankles at the same time.
Roberta Jean gripped at Tammy's ankles so hard that her knuckles whitened. Then, with a single outward swoop of her straightened arms she pulled Tammy's legs apart.
Roberta Jean looked for all the world as if she were making a wish over a human wishbone as she did this.
Roberta Jean pulled Tammy's thighs open past a ninety-degree angle to a slightly obtuse angle with that single motion.
Roberta Jean then quickly wired the redhead's ankles to the bedposts at the foot of her bed. Roberta Jean tied Tammy's ankles every bit as tightly as she had her wrists. Tammy could see her toes turning a dark shade of purple. Soon she couldn't wiggle her toes any better than she could wiggle her fingers. Soon she could feel anything from the ankles down. The wire was cutting deeply into Tammy's ankles, hurting her worst of all at the anklebones.
"Now you are going to be whipped, cunt," Roberta Jean said.
"Please don't do that to me," Tammy Cunningham begged.
"The more you plead, bitch, the more I want to hurt you."
"I'll scream. I'll scream my fucking head off!" Tammy said.
"Go ahead."
"You don't care?"
"I don't give a flying shit, Tammy," Roberta Jean said.
"How come?"
"We are put in the middle of nowhere, remember?" Roberta Jean said.
"Oh, yeah."
"Oh, yeah. No one is going to hear your fucking screams."
"What, what are you going to whip me with?" Tammy asked.
The redhead found it difficult not to stammer as she spoke.
"I am going to use a black leather belt, cuntbreath!"
"Ohhhhhhhh, you are going to cover me with welts!"
"Yeah, you cocksucking bitch, that it the whole idea!"
"Don't you want to whip my other side, my ass and back?"
"If I wanted to do that I would have bound you on your belly."
"But…"
"That's right, you scumsucking cuntface! I am going to whip your tits!" Roberta Jean Richardson said.
"Noooooooooo!" Tammy Cunningham screamed hysterically.
Tammy could never remember being so frightened before.
The redhead could feel fear filling her belly. There felt as if there were about a million fluttering butterflies inside her tummy. Those butterflies felt as if they were flopping around on top of one another, filled with anxiousness. Those butterflies were anxious to get the hell out of there!
Tammy Cunningham could feel the blood rushing from her face.
The redhead could feel her complexion becoming pasty. She was pale with fear. This paleness even changed the color of the freckles that sprinkled across the bridge of her nose. Her complexion suddenly reminded Roberta Jean Richardson of buttermilk.
Tammy could feel perspiration oozing from each and every pore on her naked body. The sweat was cold.
Like ice.
She was sweating the icy perspiration of her unadulterated fear.
"I can feel the wire cutting into my skin," the redhead screamed.
"Good."
"I can feel the copper wires actually breaking my flesh."
"Yes."
"I can't feel anything in my hands or my feet!" Tammy screamed.
Tammy began to toss her head from side to side wildly.
"Good. I want to render you completely helpless!"
Tammy's shook her head from side to side with reckless abandon.
"I want to render you completely hopeless, Tammy," Roberta Jean Richardson said with an evil laugh.
Tammy shook her head from side to side as if she were purposefully attempting to injure her rather slender neck. Her big tits were heaving up and down on her chest.
Her nipples were erect. Tammy Cunningham's nipples were stiff with fear and terror rather than with lust and passion, Roberta Jean Richardson understood.
The recently rendered submissive redhead realized that she could no longer move any part of her body. The bondage was unadulteratedly stringent. Roberta Jean's sworn enemy realized that the only part of her body that she could move was her head. She could lift the sore back of her head from the bed a little bit if she wanted to, and, obviously, she could still turn her pain-contorted face from side to side. But she tried to keep her head still from this point on. She tried to conserve her energy. Tammy Cunningham correctly assumed that she was going to need all of the pooled energy she could muster before Roberta Jean Richardson's sado-masochistic sex session was complete.
"I am going to get you back for this, Roberta Jean."
"What did I tell you before about being polite, bitch."
Tammy shut up.
The redhead came to the conclusion that this was not the time to mouth off. There would be plenty of time for revenge – but this was not it.
Roberta Jean shook her ass from side to side as she left the foot of the bed and walked over to her closet. She opened her closet door. Tammy Cunningham turned her face in that direction so she could see what the blonde bombshell was doing.
Tammy Cunningham could see that there was a full-length looking glass mounted with screws onto the inside of Roberta Jean Richardson's closet door.
Roberta Jean got up on her toes and reached onto the top shelf of the closet. She found what she was looking for.
The belt.
The whip.
It was black.
Genuine leather.
It was the only genuine leather article she owned – if you don't count her softball mitt.
The tall and muscular blonde bombshell swung her hips from side to side and laughed contentedly to herself as she returned to the side of the bed holding the belt in her right hand. She folded the black leather strap in half and held it by the buckled end. She cupped her left palm. Roberta Jean then slapped the belt HARD across her slightly cupped palm and created a sharp sound. The sound alone was enough to make Tammy Cunningham wince. The sound reminded the redhead of the sound of a firecracker, a cherry bomb, going off on the Fourth of July.
The sound reminded Tammy of a gunshot, a shotgun blast.
The sound reminded the redhead of an old pick-up truck backfiring out on Interstate 17! The sound alone was enough to frighten the stringently bound female.
The sound frightened Tammy Cunningham because she knew this was the same sound the belt was going to make when it came down across the hypersensitive flesh on the front side of her feminine physique.
Roberta Jean was in no hurry to get started. The blonde bombshell was smart enough to know that dread was an important part of any torture.
CHAPTER THREE
"I have dreamed about this moment," Roberta Jean said.
"You are going to have nightmares about it someday," Tammy Cunningham replied.