When they entered the motel room, Paul dropped his duffel, and took Tracy's purse from her shoulder, then took her in his arms. He kissed her, roughly this time, no witnesses. When he let her go, she still had her head back, her eyes closed, her mouth still open like a little bird's, waiting for more of those wonderful kisses.
Instead he said, his voice hard and sexy, "Are you ready, Tracy? Because this isn't a game anymore. I'm here now. This isn't an online fantasy, angel. This is real; just you and me. Are you ready for it?"
Tracy nodded, opening large blue eyes to stare at the man of her dreams.
"Good. Because after this minute, there's no going back. There won't be any, 'no stop, stop, wait I was only kidding, I made a mistake'. There's no coy girl thing of, 'oh, Paul, I just can't do that!' You will not stop until I tell you to stop, and you will not disobey me in any way, shape or form. You belong to me. We both know that. Now's your chance, Tracy, to prove it. I don't demand perfection. I wouldn't expect it. What I do demand is obedience, and honesty.
"You can still back out, Tracy. We can go get a bite to eat and discuss the sights of Houston, or the theory of relativity, or whatever you want to talk about. I'm serious about that, sweet girl. You are under no obligation to stay. But if you stay," he paused and put his hand on the back of her head, pulling her toward him. "If you stay, from this moment on, you are mine." He paused, his dark eyes intent upon her.
"If you wish to stay, kneel down on the floor in front of me."
Tracy knelt, her knees sinking gracefully to the thick carpet. Her heart was clamoring in her chest, but she was breathing deeply, feeling the net of submission fall over her like a bridal veil. It was happening at last. It was happening, and she was ready.
"Raise your arms so I can take that dress off," Paul ordered, and Tracy did as he said. She waited a moment, expecting him, as men always had in the past, to admire her full round breasts, raised up prettily for him in the pink satin. But all he said was, "Take that thing off."
A little flustered, but determined to obey, she did so, and at once her dark pink nipples sprang to attention under his appraising gaze. He knelt in front of her, taking her full breast in his hands, feeling the heft of them, kissing her mouth lightly as he did so. Bending over her, he took one stiff nipple into his mouth and pulled and bit it, leaving it shiny and impossibly pointed from his kiss. He did the same with the other.
He stood and took off his shirt, revealing a muscled chest, with curly dark hair in a Y up his sternum. Tracy devoured him with her eyes, but he didn't seem to notice. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to stay kneeling, but since he hadn't said anything, she stayed put.
Paul went to his duffel and pulled out a small whip with lots of little tresses hanging from what looked like a small billy club wrapped in soft black leather. It was nothing like that frightening single lashed bullwhip Guy had produced those many months ago, but it looked ominous enough, and Tracy involuntarily drew in her breath.
Paul came around to the front of her and without further ado, he unzipped his jeans and pulled aside black bikini underwear to reveal an already erect penis; not huge like Kyle's, or small like Guy's, but just right, Tracy thought with an inward smile.
When he proffered it to his slave girl, she took it willingly, eagerly, into her mouth. The flesh was hot and smooth, and Paul pulled her head toward him, forcing her to take it in deep. She felt the lash of the whip before she realized what was happening. It fell with a thud against her back. Tracy flinched and jerked with Paul's cock still stuffed in her mouth, but he didn't let her move.
Again the whip fell and she jumped, still held impaled against his cock. She was having trouble breathing, both because of his cock lodged so far back in her throat, and because of the the thrill of fear each lash of the whip generated in her. Before she began to struggle in earnest against him, Paul released her, pulling her up onto the bed.
He was on top of her, kissing her mouth, her face, her neck, his hands roaming over her bare flesh, teasing her to a frenzy of desire. His mouth drank her in, his own longing spilling out over her, making them both sigh and moan. She felt herself completely surrendering to his lovely onslaught, when suddenly it was gone.
Opening her eyes, Tracy saw Paul standing up over her, now completely naked, his penis bobbing and glistening, his belly smooth and firm. "Get up, cunt," he ordered her, his voice husky and filled with the promise of something dangerous.
On wobbly legs, Tracy stood, also naked, eyes bright and lips slightly parted. Firmly he took her by the arm and led her to the small open closet, where a single thick rod of metal held a number of wooden hangers. Sweeping them aside, Paul said, "Grab this bar and hold it. Spread your legs as far apart as you can. And don't move."
Tracy obeyed, gripping the cold hard metal bar, which was placed so high, she had to stand on tiptoe to reach it. She spread her legs and closed her eyes, waiting for what she knew must be her first real whipping. She wanted it so badly, she felt faint with a delicious combination of fear and aching desire.
Paul returned to her and slipped black leather cuffs around each wrist, securing them with a clip. They were shiny black, and still a little stiff from being brand new, having been purchased just for Tracy. He slipped a small piece of sturdy chain over the bar and using the clips from each cuff, chained Tracy to the bar.
A flick with his toe at her ankles forced her feet further apart. She felt his hand between her legs, his long fingers tugging gently at her labia. She was so wet her thighs were damp with her own moisture.
"I'm going to whip you now, slave girl. I'm going to start slowly, and take my time. I'm not going to stop when you're ready for me to stop. I'm going to stop when I'm ready to stop. Do you understand?"
Tracy nodded, her eyes closed, her head leaning back so that her dark hair streamed down her back. "Kiss me," he commanded, taking her face in his hand, pulling her head back and gently biting her mouth. Tracy kissed him back, her ardent need for what he was giving her expressed in the passion of that heated, needy kiss.
She tried to hold him with her mouth, since her hands were chained above her head, but Paul pulled away, intent on the whipping he had promised her. It began slowly at first, as he had said it would. The soft tresses of leather grazed her ass and thighs, the tempo and thrust increasing as the whipping continued.
Tracy was quiet at first, deeply excited, proud of herself that she could 'take a whipping' like this with so little effort. Gauging her reaction, deciding she was ready for more, Paul let the lash land on her back, striking her with some force, so that red marks appeared where the leather had kissed her.
Tracy jerked and screamed. Her breathing was staccato as she began to dance that timeless rhythm of one who can't escape the lash. Paul didn't let up, but continued to whip her rather severely, up and down from the top of her back to her thighs, covering her now sweating form with a crisscross of red angry lines.
Tracy's soft cries and whimpers were a constant in the room now, as Paul mercilessly beat his slave girl. He only stopped because his own need to take her overwhelmed his sadistic pleasure in making her suffer.
Quickly he released the clips and caught Tracy as she fell in his arms. He carried her to the bed, but not to tenderly minister to her burning flesh. No, he carried her there to claim her completely.
Roughly positioning her, forcing her onto her hands and knees, he knelt behind her and pressed his hard cock into her sopping pussy, fueled by her whimpers and cries. "It's your fault," he whispered fiercely into her ear, as he fucked her hard, holding her hips so he could thrust deeply into her. "You're so beautiful, I had to whip you. And then I had to stop, because you're so beautiful. Oh God, Tracy. I love you!"