The sound of the car leaving, outside, compounded Cleo's sense of abandonment. She was completely alone. No-one knew where she was. A sense of desolating loneliness overtook her, a sinking in the pit of her stomach. She was also naked, and chained to a metal pillar no thicker than a scaffold pole. She rested her cheek against the cold iron and felt the tears leaking from her eyes and dripping on her bared breasts. Her bonds kept her in a constant state of physical discomfort. Standing as she was, facing the pillar, her arms shackled at full stretch above her head, if she turned her hands inward she could hold on to the metal pole and support a part of her weight, to ease the pain of the handcuffs on her wrists. But to do so she had to stand on the tips of her toes, and before long the strain on her arms and legs became unbearable and she slipped down, and the cold steel bit again at her tender flesh.
Spasms of anxiety overcame her: she had no idea what he intended to do to her when he returned: if he returned: and the thought of what he might do sent her gasping into the depths of depression. At the same time, the clamps on her nipples sent arrows of sensation through her body. She had been thoroughly aroused and the need and the desire called forth by her captor continued to echo on, long after he had gone. Cleo had to find relief and distraction somehow, and the pole between her legs was both the instrument of her captivity and the only means of pleasure at hand. She found herself pushing back against the belt around her waist and lifting her hips, rubbing herself against the hard iron, through the cloth of her kilt and thong, desperately trying to achieve orgasm but failing because she couldn't quite get the right angle to rub her burning cunt properly, to find the bud of her clitoris and stimulate it as it wanted to be stimulated.
The time for Cleo thus passed in a cycle of grief, self-pity, pain, sexual arousal, fear and uncertainty, and in constant small shifts of physical position. Soon, exhaustion was added to her plight and she entered a kind of dream state, a state where her thoughts became distant, like echoes of another time or another self, and she wept constantly, and cried out and talked to herself, hearing her own voice as though it was someone else's.
When she heard the car returning, and his footsteps on the stairs, she felt enormous relief, and a hectic hysterical joy. She greeted him with tears, and pleadings.....
'Ohh, thank you sir, please sir, I'll behave sir, I'll obey you...' His only reply was a cold silence which sent shivers through her, but at least he was another person and surely he could not be so cruel as to leave her again... Somewhere close by she heard a tap running, the sound of a bath filling with water.
The sounds ceased, and she could feel him standing behind her. She could hear the whisper of his clothes being discarded, the chink of his belt buckle as it fell to the floor.
And then came the vicious hiss of something in the air, and a narrow band of fire and agony leapt into life across Cleo's upper thighs. She screamed, and then screamed again as the blow was repeated, higher up, on the crown of her neat tight buttocks, a long hhhiiiiss sssmmmaaackkk!!!, and again she screamed and again the cane or riding crop came down, hhhiiiiss sssmmmaaackkk!!!, and again, and again. From mere passive misery Cleo was thrown into a lake of unbearable agony, agony undreamed of, she could hardly breathe and her own shrieks and cries were echoing and re-echoing around her.
