Bondage story - The Phantom of the Roxy - 30

He soon added a third fnger to the two inside her wet channel, and accelerated the motion of his hand. When her cries became loud and continuous, he abruptly withdrew his thumb and fngers, and picked up the strap once more. This time, however, he didn’t apply it to her bottom. Crouching down and taking careful aim, he snapped the strap straight into her plump little pink pussy!

Jessica shrieked and bucked in shock and pain. Again the strap slapped into her most delicate fesh, making her whole body jerk and bounce wildly.

“NOOOOO!!” she screamed when she was able to catch her breath, but her plea fell on deaf ears.

Again and again the strap smacked against her tender pink labia. Each blow was a world of agony for poor Jessica. She fought desperately against her bondage, her thighs straining to come together and protect her most vulnerable place, but there was nothing she could do except scream and struggle futilely.

When he fnally stopped after ten blows, she was sobbing uncontrollably. He rose, tossing the strap aside, and moved to the side of the device she was strapped to. He turned a wheel, and the platform that supported Jessica’s bound nudity tipped slowly rearward, lowering her red, punished bottom and raising her head. He stopped when she was standing straight, the platform now vertical, and walked over to the open steamer trunk. From it he withdrew a matched pair of braided switches. They were two feet long and very slender and whippy, ending in single leather thongs two inches long and no thicker than shoelaces. With one of these in each hand, he strode back to his helpless subject, and stood in front of her.

Jessica gazed at her cruel master through tear-blurred eyes, still snuffing a little but desperate to know what he would do to her next. Lowering his gaze from her face, he extended his arms slightly, reaching forward with the switches. Horrifed, Jessica looked down at her breasts, fully accessible and oh-so-vulnerable as they poked through the round holes in the bottom surface of the platform.

“No…” she whispered. “Yes!” her tormentor whispered back.

The tips of the switches tickled her helpless nipples, poking and stroking them gently, and the little pink nubbins responded in spite of her fear, stiffening and extending themselves as if they were eager to be tortured. When they were fully erect, the Whisperer twitched the switches to the side and brought them back in sharply, both thongs simultane- ously snapping at her stiff nipples.

“Ahhh!” she cried, her wide eyes glued to her straining nips, afraid to watch their torture, yet afraid to look away for fear of what he might do to them.

The Whisperer began whipping the two switches back and forth rapidly, using their innate springiness to generate the motion. The little two-inch thongs on the ends whistled back and forth so fast they became no more than blurs, cutting the air audibly, with a range of motion no more than six or eight inches wide. When he brought them back in line with Jessica’s helpless nipples there was a sharp “Tacktacktacktacktacktacktack!” as the thongs struck the sensitive pink fesh on both sides, more than a dozen times a second. Jessica screamed at the searing pain of it, but still she could not tear her cringing eyes away. Her tormentor moved the whizzing little thongs up and down, catching her nips within their buzz-saw-like striking zone for only a second or two at a time as they passed, each time drawing an agonized cry from her. He began plying the rest of her tender breasts with the terrible switches, walking the buzzing, whipping thongs up and down the snowy white slopes and painting them with tiny red lines. But always he would return to her tormented nipples at the end of each tour, for she always shrieked the loudest when he allowed the thongs to play over the tortured pink gumdrops.