Cruel To Be Kind 1

Larissa doesn't know where she is.

She wakes up in total darkness, groggy and disoriented. Sensations trickle in a few at a time as her brain slowly begins to process information--with sight gone, she notices the sensations of touch first. She feels a strain at her shoulders, and pressure at her wrists and ankles. She realizes she's been suspended upright before she figures out that she's been drugged.

The drug must be wearing off now; Larissa can feel the lingering throb of a headache that she's very glad she slept through, and she notices a trace of nausea in the pit of her stomach. She tries to penetrate the fog of confusion the drugs have left behind and think back to her last memory, but her brain still feels sluggish and distracted. Instead of figuring out where she was, she figures out why she can't see.

There's a hood over her head. Larissa tries to shake it off, but it's got elastic sewn into the lining to make it snug against her neck without cutting off her oxygen supply...and shaking her head rapidly makes her stomach do unpleasant flip-flops that she doesn't want to encourage, not with a hood over her head that she can't remove. So instead, Larissa holds still for a moment and tries to think. What was she doing before this? Where had she been? Who--

She suddenly feels tiny leather cords trailing along the skin of her back, and she flinches, both at the sensation and the sudden realization that she's naked. "Wh-who's there?" she asks, her voice only slightly muffled by the hood.

The leather moves away abruptly, then smacks back against her with a dull thud. Larissa jerks sharply at the pain, but the bonds around her wrists and ankles don't give even a little. "Please, I--" The flogger slaps into her back again, right between the shoulder blades. Larissa cries out involuntarily, as much from the situation as the actual pain.

"What is your name?" a man's voice asks.

"I...I don't..." Larissa doesn't understand what's happening. She's not anybody important. She's nobody. Why would someone kidnap her? Why would they lock her up like this, whip her and question her?

She doesn't get any answers. Instead, she gets another smack of the flogger against her back, then another immediately on the heels of the first. She gasps, but she doesn't even have time to exhale before she gasps again. "Where do you live?" the man asks.

"Please, just...let me go, I don't know anything--" That must be the wrong answer, because the flogger thuds into her back again. Larissa can't help herself, she cries out again.

"What is your name?" the man asks again, his voice perfectly neutral. He's not angry with her for failing to answer; he's just punishing her.

"L-Larissa," she whimpers out. Maybe if she answers, it'll satisfy him and--

The flogger cracks down again. Then two more times. "What did you have for breakfast this morning?"

"What?" Larissa asks before she can stop herself. The flogger answers her question, thudding against the exact same spot again and again and again. Larissa can picture the flesh of her back, now, an angry red where the leather cords have struck it. Each smack of the flogger reminds her of all the ones before it; the skin is sensitized by now from the multitude of blows.

"Who was your first kiss?" the man asks. The questions don't make any sense to Larissa, and she's terrified of answering them wrong. She's terrified of everything right now.

"My first, I..." She wracks her brains, trying to remember his name in the instants she has before the flogger comes down again, but then suddenly she feels a hand reach around and pinch her nipple sharply and she loses her train of thought. Instead, she arches her whole body in shock at the mix of pleasure and pain.

"What is your name?" the man asks again, letting go of her breast. Larissa doesn't understand. She's already answered that one.

"Larissa," she says, louder this time. "Larissa--" His hand smacks sharply against her ass, hard enough to make her sway in the restraints. "Please, I don't--" He spanks her again, this time smacking her other cheek. "I don't know what you want," she sobs out. Her eyes sting with tears.

"Who owns you?" the man asks. Before she can even open her mouth to answer, he brings the flogger down on her ass where his hand just was, and Larissa thrashes in the restraints in a desperate attempt to pull free.

"If you move too much, I might injure you," the man says calmly. "What did you have for breakfast this morning?"

This morning seems like a lifetime ago, now, but Larissa strains to remember it. She knows that even if she does, she'll never manage to get out an answer before the flogger comes down, and she tenses up before the next blow comes.

It lands squarely between her shoulder blades again, followed by what feels like a half-dozen more just like it. Larissa's not counting, though. She's shaking now, as the endorphins flow into her bloodstream and make her body tingle all over.

He finishes off with another stroke against her ass, then speaks again. "Where did you go to school?" he asks.

Larissa tries to answer, but she doesn't get out more than a whimper before the flogger slaps against her thighs, then her back, then her thighs again. It's almost as if he's punishing her for even trying to think; she wishes so badly that she could just shut down her mind now, let everything wash over her and stop trying to satisfy this impossible test.

"What is your name?" he asks again. He still doesn't sound angry. He doesn't sound like he's upset with the answers he's getting. He sounds like he's willing to keep this up forever.

"Larissa," she cries out, "Larissa Larissa Larissa--" The name begins to sound like a nonsense word, just like any word will if you repeat it often enough. He cuts her off with a series of blows on her ass, and she shivers as her body begins to overdose on the endorphins. The pain doesn't go away; it just gets overlaid with a buzz of pleasure that makes her light-headed and dizzy.

"Who owns you?" he asks.

"Y-you?" Larissa says hopefully. She doesn't really believe that, but if it's what he wants to hear, if it will get him to stop this torture, she'll happily say it.

He rains more blows onto her back and thighs, but she doesn't know whether that means it was the wrong answer or not. He never corrects her, she realizes. He doesn't tell her what he wants to hear; he expects her to figure it out. She can't. She can barely think at all, as the exquisite pleasure of the endorphin rush mingles with the exquisite pain of the welts on her body to make her quiver in sensory overload.

"When did you lose your virginity?" he asks. She knows that she should be offended by the question, but she doesn't care anymore. All she can do is try to respond, and pray it's what he wants to hear.

"I was...I was twennnuhhh!" Larissa's words dissolve into a shuddering moan as she feels a thick rubber cock sliding up into her cunt. It's only then that she realizes her pussy is practically dripping with moisture; all the stimulation has made her body horny, even if her mind is almost shutting down in panic and confusion, and the fake cock slides in smoothly despite its size. The feel of the dildo inside her adds yet another sensation to the mix that threatens to drown out her thoughts entirely.

She feels him slide something around her waist that holds the dildo in place. "What did you have for breakfast this morning?" he asks, doing something as he speaks that makes the dildo throb and pulse inside her cunt. Larissa's head falls forward, then arches back as he spanks her ass again.

"For...for breakfast, I..." She can't even form a coherent sentence anymore; even without his next lash of the flogger (on her back, then her thighs, then her back again) her mind is utterly overwhelmed. If she had time to calm down, to think, then she could maybe answer, but he won't give it to her.

"Who owns you?" he asks again. The questions swirl around her head now in an endless spiral, melting down into confusion at its heart. Her only answer is a wordless moan, punctuated by tiny yelps as he uses a short riding crop on the sensitive flesh of her breasts. By the time he stops, she's forgotten the question.

"What is your name?" he asks. Larissa flinches in anticipation of the next blow, but nothing happens for a long moment. She realizes he's actually waiting for an answer, and it surprises her just how hard it is to remember that answer.

"Larissa," she pants out at last. There's another long moment of silence.

Then an onslaught of sensation. The flogger thuds again and again against her back, her ass, her thighs, then swats against her pussy in a way that makes her cunt clench hard around the vibrator. She cries out, but she's not sure if that's why he uses the riding crop on her tits again or if that's just what he was planning to do anyway. By the time he pauses, she's shuddering in the restraints, her breath coming in gasps.

Then he slides another vibrator, this one well-lubricated, into her ass, and the gasp becomes a sharp yelp. Then he turns that one on, too, and the shudders become quakes. Then he asks her another question.

"Where do you live?" He reaches around and pinches her nipples sharply, twisting them back and forth in his hands. Her skin is so sensitive now from all the blows that she can actually feel his breath on her back. "What did you have for breakfast this morning?" She feels him attach buzzing, whirring, vibrating nipple clips to her tits. "How old are you?" He smacks the flogger into her again, no longer alternating between questions and blows but delivering both at once.

"Who won the World Series this year?" Larissa can't help it, her hips buck as the overwhelming stimulation begins to get to her. "When was the Declaration of Independence signed?" The pain and pleasure mingle interchangeably now; Larissa can't tell them apart anymore. "Why does the caged bird sing? What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow? Who owns you? What is your name? Who owns you? What is your name? Who owns you?"

"I don't know!" she cries out as she feels herself cum, everything blending together in an impossible mix of overwhelming sensation that shuts her mind down completely. All she can do now is feel, as all the feelings demand so much of her attention that she can no longer think about the questions, the situation, anything at all. She shakes and shudders in an endless, timeless orgasm, then finally sags in her bonds, utterly limp.

The flogging stops. The vibrators shut off, then slide out. Finally, he removes the hood. She opens her eyes, then closes them again tightly as they adjust to the light. Then she opens them again, looking at the face of her tormentor. "Tim?" she asks hesitantly.

"Laura?" he responds, his face concerned.

She nods. "It's me," she says wearily, but a smile crosses her face when she says it. She says her name again, tasting the unfamiliar word in her mouth. "Laura."

The look of relief on Tim's face is palpable. "Oh, thank God!" he sighs out. "I'm so sorry, honey, I know you must have been so frightened but I needed to totally overwhelm your conscious mind to break the conditioning. You needed to be confused about who was doing this to you, or you'd have stayed 'Larissa' no matter how long I..." He hangs his head slightly, and Laura knows what he must be feeling. It must have been hell for the soft, gentle man she married to torment his wife like that, even if he did know it was the only way to break the hold that 'Master' had over her.

"It's okay, love," she says. She reaches out to caress his cheek instinctively, before realizing she's still cuffed to the frame in a spread-eagled position. "You did what you had to. You saved me. You love me."

Tim kisses her gently. "I love you," he says. He reaches up and unlocks the restraints, and she sags into his arms with a sharp inhalation of pain. She's going to be sore for days, but it's worth it to have her free will back. She finds herself filled with questions--how did Tim get her out of there, what happened to the man who enslaved her, how long had she been 'Larissa'--but they'll have to wait. She's too exhausted right now to care. Laura feels like she could sleep for days.

It must show on her face, because Tim leads her off towards the bedroom without her even needing to ask. Abruptly, a thought crosses her mind, and she's so tired and giddy that the words pop out of her mouth before she can stop them.

"Tim...could we try that again sometime? Just for fun?"

THE END