At His Mercy

She turned her car into the first empty stall, and lit a clove cigarette before even putting it in park. She noticed that her right hand trembled the slightest bit while holding up the lighter. Nervous? Not really. Anxious, enthralled, impatient, yes. She had been coming to see this lawyer in the suburbs for two months now, and he had somehow learned all of her buttons in just a handful of sessions.

She smiled and watched the thick smoke pour out from between her lips in big, luscious curls. She was anxious to be abused at his capable hands.

He finally texted to inform her that his secretary had left for the day, and he was alone in the office. Her heart raced just a bit; she took a deep breath to steady herself and gathered her things. The forty-odd steps from her car to his office door...they always felt strange, like she was journeying between her world and his; from the safety of her meadow into his lair. As she swung open the door and stepped inside, it struck her: she was an animal who WANTED to be snared in his trap.

He met her in the hallway, looking as handsome and dapper as ever. His confident and appraising gaze always made her knees a bit weak. She knew that his eyes would soon look upon her naked, bound and bruised breasts, her trembling lips and tear-stained cheeks. She was about to open herself fully to him.

She made an effort at bits of small talk, but her eagerness to begin must have been apparent. He grinned, loosened his tie, and gestured for her to proceed downstairs.

Once in the basement, he started to ready the ropes for her. It was arousing to watch his hands move confidently, preparing for her pain. She began to undress, leaving her clothes in a careless heap on the cold cement floor.

He started by binding her breasts with rope. She shivered as the rope first touched the delicate skin under her breasts. He had chosen a very thin rope this time, and therefore was able to bind very tightly. He drew the rope around her right breast again and again, drawing it tighter and tighter with each turn. Her pulse seemed to slow, even as her body contracted in pleasure, and her eyes began to close involuntarily.

He switched sides, now wrapping her left breast even tighter. She opened her eyes a bit to watch him give the rope a firm tug, which pulled her whole body forward. She felt as if a gentle haze had settled over her mind. She noticed the concentration in his dark eyes, the sexy salt-and-pepper stubble on his ruggedly handsome face, the bulge of her tits around the rope, the pink flush of her nipples, the way her breathing had become meditative but shallow. He already had her in a trance. She reveled in it.

He finished the tie, which was by far the tightest one she'd endured, and directed her to lie on her back on the long table before them. She complied, and was grateful for the soft towel he'd spread beneath her.

He first secured her wrists to the table, bound together and pulled tight over her head. She was glad to notice that he had was making all of the bonds nice and tight. He knew that she enjoyed struggling against her fetters; he was being careful to ensure that she would have no chance of escape.

Next, he wrapped her left ankle several times with thick rope. He then tossed the end of this rope over a ceiling beam and pulled it tight, drawing her leg up and to the side at a 45 degree angle. This was new; he was arranging for her legs to be spread completely apart before him. His access to her cunt would be completely uninhibited; she would be unable to close her legs or resist anything he chose to do to her. She drew in a ragged breath and tried to calm her nervous excitement.

Painstakingly slowly, he secured the other leg so that she was spread wide open to him. She always enjoyed watching him carefully arrange her body for each session; he did it a little differently each time. It occurred to her, then, that he must constantly be thinking of new ways to hurt her.

He then selected two smaller ropes to be attached individually to the ties around her tits, pulling them, too, towards the ceiling beams. She felt as though she were being lifted off the table by her tits. He was ruthless in this; her cries of agony did nothing to slow or influence his progress.

Her breasts were now fully in pain, even with no further stimulation; tightly compressed, swollen and pulled, they had darkened to a lovely shade of crimson and ached horribly. She moaned, gasping and writhing in her bonds. He only seemed amused at her agonizing arousal.

He decided, then, to gag her. He retrieved her new ball gag and unfastened the buckle. He placed the ball in her mouth. She found the taste of the hard perforated plastic ball entirely disagreeable, but he was already drawing the strap behind her head and buckling it tightly. Her lips were forced wide by the size of the gag, and she found herself already biting down into the ball. Once the gag was firmly secured, he left to find the crop...but not before giving her tits a sudden hard slap that induced a muffled groan.

Her breathing settled again as he approached wielding the black leather crop. She watched with wide and desperate eyes as he began to circle her bound body.

She imagined that he would warm her up by trailing the crop along her thigh as he circled. Perhaps he'd first deliver a series of gentle taps to the undersides of her calves. Tied as she was, she could only stare at the ceiling and wait for the first blow. She heard only his quiet, thoughtful footfalls in the stillness of the cold basement. She drew in a long breath and held it, waiting.

SMACK!

The first blow greeted her sharply on the left hip. Although she'd been determined to remain quiet, the strength of this first connection startled her into a pointed vocalization.

Shaken by the deliberate severity so immediately in the session, she steeled herself for the inevitable matching blow to the other hip. It came quickly, but this time she was prepared and was able to hold in her outcry. She shivered in anticipation of more to come...and was rewarded with a series of increasingly harder blows to her thighs. She writhed with pleasure in her bonds, closing her eyes and enjoying the delicious sensation of leather connecting with her naked body.

He slid one hand along the inside of her thigh. He brushed his palm briefly over her clit, causing her to wantonly thrust her hips upward. He gently probed her cunt with two insistent fingers, finding her already soaking wet and ready for him. He withdrew his hand, patting the underside of her thigh. "Good girl."

She could practically hear him smirking with accomplishment. She felt herself flush with a tinge of embarrassment at her eagerness for his ministrations...an embarrassment that quickly faded as he again picked up the crop and tapped it repeatedly against the table as he contemplated his next move.

He circled her slowly, painstakingly slowly, finally bringing himself to face her tied and already tormented breasts. She drew in a ragged breath and waited for his touch. He reached out and tweaked a nipple, hard, pulling and stretching it, twisting and pinching until she cried out in pleasure and pain. Her cries brought the crop raining down on both her breasts with abandon. Her nipples, aroused and firm, were beaten by the stiff leather of the crop until the sharpness of it brought tears to her eyes.

When he noticed that her eyes had begun to glisten, he ceased his assault and leaned down, bringing his mouth close to her ear. With both hands he kneaded her tender breasts, squeezing the flesh he'd just warmed with his punishments. His stubble brushed against her cheek and she breathed him in. Every inch of her body strained towards him as she pushed through the pain.

"Ohhh, I'm sorry. Does that hurt?" he crooned sarcastically in her ear. She nodded and stifled a sob. "I want it to hurt," he growled. He increased his vise-like grip on her breasts. He squeezed them excruciatingly tightly, his fingernails just beginning to bite her delicate skin. Her breasts felt as if they were truly being crushed.

Her heart raced with sudden terror, blood pounding in her head. She held back her cries as long as she could, but when he cruelly twisted his grip she could keep the agony inside no longer. A scream escaped her throat, muffled by the gag, and she sobbed openly. Her shoulders quaked with the overwhelming rush of sensations. Sharp, stabbing pain bit into her recklessly. She felt her arms involuntarily straining at their bonds. Her fingers stretched wide and reached for something unknown and unreachable. Her toes were curled and clenched to the point of becoming painful themselves. She looked down and saw his hands tightly clenched on her breasts. His eyes bore into her, searching her depths as he pressed himself down against her.

The pain vanished then, replaced with blind and obliterating lust. Her nipples, tortured and inflamed, cried out to be sucked and bitten. Her hips bucked wantonly, her cunt aching to be filled, fucked, used. Cherished, glorified, released.

She drew a deep breath and fought to steady herself. Suddenly the pain rushed back, fresh. Tears streamed into her hair. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to push through it, knowing that she could endure much more than this. She hoped that he smiled at her agony.

When he had satisfied himself with her breasts, he released his hold with a final slap. He grabbed a handful of her auburn hair, forcing her to look up at him. "Have you had enough, my dear?" he asked gently, his eyes probing hers. He tenderly kissed her forehead, then gazed at her with concern, awaiting her answer.

Her eyes pleaded for more. She firmly shook her head, blinking back the tears. She strained against her bonds, on the edge of something raw and agonizing and beautiful.

No. She had certainly not had enough.