His body gave a great flinch, but his trapped genitals prevented it from being more than a flinch. A livid weal sprang into being across his bottom, and tiny drops of blood began to gather in it.
She gave him the dozen lashes with equal force, and with a pause of some seconds between each. He groaned, choked, grunted, beat his fists upon the floor, and writhed his body as much as his genitals would let him. His noises and his desperate writhings doubled and trebled the rapture she felt at the sight of her whip cutting into his flesh. She felt herself uplifted, transported, translated into another world of stark and savage ecstasy.
The blonde watched the terrible thrashing with a light in her own eyes. She was not the sadist that her friend was, but she enjoyed watching a flogging. She counted the lashes, fearful that the red-head would not stop on the twelfth stroke. She was ready to put out her hand, to bring the thrashing to a finish. But it was not necessary. On the twelfth stroke the red-head dropped the whip beside her, tottered to the side of the bed and fell forward on to her face.
The blonde regarded the writhing man. "It's over," she said. "You've paid the price. Now you can have some reward-after you've got your breath back." She looked at his bleeding buttocks. "Oh dear, blood in bucketfuls again." I'll have to clean you up a bit. But what with?" She looked around the room. "I can't use the hotel towels, I suppose. Oh damn! I'll have to use one of ours." She went to her rucksack and took out a white linen hand-towel and a bottle of eau-de-cologne. "This is about ninety-five per cent alcohol. It'll sterilise you all right." She came back to him, opened the bottle, and poured the liquid over his bleeding weals. He gave another flinch as the alcohol seemed to bite him. "Sorry," she said, "but you have to be cleaned up a bit, for your own sake." She laid the hand-towel over his bottom. "That'll suck the blood up in a moment or two. And then you can start on me, can't you?"
He grunted.
She looked at him and smiled. "You're still gagged, of course. Poor boy. Here, let me undo it." She untied the stocking and took the other one out of his mouth. "There. That's better, isn't it?"
"Untie the chairs, please," he said quietly, working his tongue to produce saliva.
Something in his tone made her glance at him, with narrowed eyes. "Don't you wand to lie still and relax for a minute or two?"
"No," he said, in the same quiet, dull voice. "I want to go. I think you're devils. You've nearly killed me."
"I?" She laughed. "I didn't touch you."
"You're just as bad. You didn't stop her."
"Stop her? Why should I stop her? You agreed to take a thrashing, didn't you?"
"I want to go," he repeated stubbornly. "Just untie these chairs, please."
She narrowed her eyes again. She stooped and picked up the whip. She put it closely to his face. "You see this? You know the pain it can give you? Answer me." He nodded his head.
"Well," she said, "I'm quite ready to give you another thrashing with it myself if I hear anything more about you wanting to go. Do you understand?" He nodded again. He thought that he had better promise anything that she wanted. She would then untie the chairs, and he could grab his clothes and run. "All right," he said. "All right, what?"
"All right, I won't say anything more about wanting to go."
She regarded him thoughtfully, put down the whip, and picked up the two stockings. "Put your wrists together."
He frowned at her. "What's the matter? Don't you trust me?"
"No. Put them together."
He sighed and obeyed. He watched his wrists being tied tightly. "I don't feel very much like it," he said. "It's been knocked out of me with that whip."
"It'll come back in a moment or two, and then you'll be as randy as a ram as a result of it." She tied an extra knot in the stockings. "There. You're safer now. You won't be able to run away, even if you do want to break your promise." She went to the door, which he had himself locked, and took the key out of its hole. She wondered where to put it. She saw that he was watching her. She went back to the centre of the room, to the chairs over which he was lying, and passed on out of his line of vision. She quickly and silently opened a drawer and dropped the key in.
She walked back to him silently, lifting the hand-towel, now quite wet with his blood. She looked critically at his weals, saw that the bleeding had begun to stop, and went to the wash-basin. She wrung the blood out of the towel, turned on a tap to wash it all down the drain, and returned to him. She laid the towel over his buttocks again and patted it lightly to help the remaining blood to be absorbed. "I don't think you'll be able to go anywhere near the bed," she said. "We'd better do it on the floor." She knelt and began to untie the cords round the chair legs.
The red-head stirred on the bed. She gave a deep sigh of great satisfaction, raised her head and then, after a moment, her chest, turned over on her side, and slowly got off the bed. "Oho!" she said, looking at her victim and seeing the stocking tightly binding his wrists. "You're all helpless again. Are you waiting for another whipping?"
He looked up at her with a gaze of hatred. He opened his mouth to say something acid, saw the whip lying on the floor a few metres away from him, and closed his mouth again.
The blonde rose to her feet, the cords dangling in her hands. "You're free to get up now. Come on and to your stuff." She sat gracefully on the floor and lay backwards until she was stretched out. "It's a bit hard, but never mind. Better than having your blood all over the bed. Come on."
He rose stiffly from the chairs and stood erect. The bloody towel dropped to the floor.
The red-head looked at his penis. It was small and flaccid. She took it in her hands. "Is this my doing?" she asked softly. "Did I make it go so small with my lovely whip?"
He looked at her again with hatred, but his penis began to stiffen. She was a very lovely girl.
"I don't think you like me very much," she said. "But never mind. I like you. I always have a great tenderness for anyone I've whipped."
"Come on, come on," said the blonde impatiently. "Don't just stand there. Get down here on top of me."
With his penis now fully erected again, and, indeed, feeling as randy as she had said he would, he knelt beside her and then lay down over her. She seized his penis and, opening her legs, guided it towards her hungry vagina. He gave a sigh of pleasure and abandoned himself to his reward.
The red-head picked up the dildo from the bed and quickly strapped it into position. She agitated it once or twice to make sure that the end that was inside her was comfortable. She knelt, and then lay over his back.
The blonde grunted with the extra weight upon her.
"Too heavy?" asked the red-head.
"No. It's all right," said the blonde. "Go ahead."
He turned his head in considerable surprise. "What's the game now?" He could not see the dildo that the red-head was wearing. He pulled irritably on the stockings that bound his wrists.
The blonde took a handful of his hair and pulled his head round again. "Nothing at all. Just get on with what you're going to do." She flexed her muscles and opened the mouth of her vagina. His penis slipped deliciously inside. "There," she said. "Isn't that nicer than talking all the time?"
"Yea," he said, and began to thrust and withdraw, feeling his testicles enlarge with an unusually stimulated appetite.
The red-head raised her loins a little and put the head of her dildo to his bottom. She felt the wetness of the remaining blood of his buttocks against her own skin, and caught her breath with pleasure. She guided the tip of the dildo to the mouth of his anus.
As he felt the great thing enter his anus he gave a cry and tried to turn his head again. The blonde caught his hair and prevented this. "Lie still," she hissed. "Or I'll flog you to death!"