This is part two of her 24-hour journey, her conversion from woman to...well, something to be defined by Him. Please share your thoughts and suggestions for where she should go next.
PAIN
He returned quietly, so quietly she didn't hear him. Her eyes closed, she didn't open them when he turned on the soft, glowing red light that would allow him to see during the next few minutes.
He was rock hard, something that rarely happened. A testament to her response, unlike any he had ever experienced. She was unique...so far. The instrument in his hand would tell him just how unique.
It was made of fiberglass. It was thin. Very, very thin. With a small strand of steel woven into it and a steel tip, all to make certain the woman being struck by it felt and remembered the blow.
When used properly, as he of course would use it, it generated tremendous force as it struck; it's very flexible design ensuring that it actually bent into the skin of its victim. The device had only one purpose: to inflict pain...deep, lasting pain that would linger for days in her body, and that would remain forever in her soul.
She had no knowledge of this as she lay strapped to the table, her body aroused and hypersensitive from all that it endured thus far. Her brain struggled to process all the sensation being sent its way, leaving her just as he expected she'd be...intensely sensitive to the slightest touch of pleasure or pain, with a brain that could only react instinctively to new sensations.
He smiled, thinking quietly, "She's ready. More ready than any other woman to pass through this room."
These thoughts passed through his mind he had quietly moved into position. He stood at her left thigh, her bound and open body unable to defend itself from what he would do it. The very thing she had asked him to do.
With the speed of a jaguar and the strength of a lion he struck. His whip slashed downward across her body, the metal tip digging into her right shoulder, the length of the whip slashing over the top of her right breast and drawing a diagonal stripe across her belly and down to her left hip.
For a moment nothing happened. He could feel the vibration of his blow in his whip; he could see the line on her skin where he had struck.
And then all hell broke loose.
Her body convulsed, trying to fold itself up into the fetal position. He could hear the leather straps strain to contain her as the pain of his blow seared through her body. The stripe took on an angry red glow and began to rise above her skin. He could see the muscles in her body strain to absorb the pain of the blow while at the same time trying with every fiber of her being to free herself, to escape the pain.
But it was the sounds she made that took his hard cock to the edge. At first, nothing. A deep inhalation of breath through clenched teeth.
Then an effort to scream that came out as nothing more than, "MMMMmMMMMmmmmmMMMmmmmmmmmMM," a deep moan that changed in pitch as the pain from each inch of the slash on her body penetrated her brain.
Then, as the effect of the blow went below her skin, driving deep into her body, the real pain set in. And with it her breathing, limited only to her nose, created a chugging sound not unlike a train as her nostrils stretched to draw in the air her lungs and body hungered for. She let out a keening sound, like an animal in need. Something had to leave her body to make room for the pain. The sound rose and fell in pitch and intensity as her body struggled to accept and process and accommodate the pain.
It morphed into a howling sound, like a ghost on Halloween. Or perhaps a wolf over its prey. Pure. Passionate. Powerful.
He stepped back to watch and enjoy, his cock as hard as could remember, her sounds unlike any other woman's. He knew it would take several minutes for her body to stabilize. He would wait until she was ready for the second stripe. He wanted her to feel the full intensity of each blow, and to see how fully she would recover from each, for she had many more to experience.
This her test, her chance to prove her claim that she was worthy of his time, of being his property, or ceding her body to him not for a few hours, but forever.
Slowly her breathing quieted, her body stilled. Her eyes darted about, seeking him. But the collar held firm and she saw only the wall behind her and ceiling above her.
MORE PAIN
Until the second blow struck!
TTTTTHHHHHHHHHWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPP!
A second line of pain and heat appeared, this time starting on her left shoulder, over the top of her tit, and across her belly to her right hip.
The effort to fold her body. The pulsing of her bound muscles as they strain to accept the pain. The chugging sound at her nostrils. The wailing, keening, sounds of pure animal pain and need.
He stepped back. Watched. Waited. Quietly changes location while she quiets.
TTTTTHHHHHHHHHWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPP!
The third line of pain crosses her belly from her right side, across her belly button, intersecting the first two, creasing her, wrapping around her left side...
By now, the first line of pain has started to bruise, and a hot, pulsing pain, like liquid fire, is spreading from it. But not outward along the skin. No. Downward. Into her muscle fibers. Through the muscles into her very being.
More thrashing at her bonds. Wailing. Trying to speak. She wants it to stop. To end NOW. Her overcharged body is imploding, like a star, all of its heat and energy is beginning to turn inward, building heat and fire.
TTTTTHHHHHHHHHWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPP!
The fourth line of pain comes from her right again. This time igniting her inner right thigh, a white hot line from inside the knee, across the thigh and abdomen, just right of her pussy lips, and finishing just below the pulsing band of fire that cuts across her belly button.
TTTTTHHHHHHHHHWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPP!
The fifth line burned across her chest, cutting just below her tits. This time the breathing sounds were even more beautiful to his ears because his blow had all but knocked the wind from her lungs.
TTTTTHHHHHHHHHWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPP!
The sixth blow mirrored the fourth, cutting along the inside of her left thigh, just missing her pussy and reaching for her stomach.
He stepped back to rest, his cock throbbing, aching for release. For a brief moment he considered releasing her head for a moment, drawing it back and ramming his cock deep into her throat until his sperm coated it, denying her tongue the taste or feel of his liquid. But his inner discipline ruled him. He returned to his whip, waiting and watching as she struggled to settle down.
Inside her world there was nothing but searing fire. Six lines of fire, each distinct, each different, each spreading through different types of muscle and issue, each at a different stage of driving the pain into her body. Her world had gone from the pain of suspension to the ecstasy of orgasm, to the incredible torture of gentle arousal and the deep denial of release, to a broiling, pulsing universe of heat and pain. Her body was literally filling with a heat she could only associate with Hell, dry, pulsing, scorching, and never, never ending.
TTTTTHHHHHHHHHWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPP!
The seventh stroke of the whip drew a line across her right tit. He stood to her left, near her head, and slashed diagonally across her tit, drawing a line over her breastbone, flattening her tit as the whip came down, cutting her nipple, and leaving a trail of fire down her side.
She tried to roll over against her bonds, but they held tight, groaning as she tried to stretch the heavy leather that held her. She wanted the whipping to stop. She'd lived her fantasy, she understood what pain was, but this was more han she bargained for, more than she'd asked for.
The pain HAD to stop. The heat HAD to go away. Somehow it had to end. NOW.
She knew that she dreaming, hoping, that he would not stop. But somewhere in her mind a fear was taking shape...a fear she knew she would face before this was over, a fear she would not allow to surface...at least yet.
TTTTTHHHHHHHHHWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPP!
The eighth bolt of pain cut her left tit in two, striking so hard against the nipple that it bled. The sting of the pain and smell of her own blood induced a small sense of panic in her and again she thrashed helplessly against the straps that held her down.
Her fear was still there, deep in her mind, hidden. But forming. A shape she knew, a sense of something to be feared like nothing else.
TTTTTHHHHHHHHHWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPP!
The ninth stroke came from her right. Directly across the point where her legs and torso joined, cutting across her mound, just missing the top of her clit. The heat from this blow took only seconds to penetrate straight to her clit, the heat creating instant awareness that she was aroused, that her pussy was again flowing hot liquid.
Her fear spun itself about, throwing shadows of reality into her subconscious. Forming a meaningful picture. Something real, tangible. Deathly frightening. Powerful. Real. Something that would break her and remake her into a different woman, someone known to her but suppressed, someone she longed to be but feared becoming.
TTTTTHHHHHHHHHWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPP!
The tenth stroke came from the left. Perhaps half an inch lower than the last blow. Her thighs prevented the whip from touching her clit, but the blow was so close that she felt the air move over her nub as the whip passed by.
The last two blows had created such heat in her groin that she was screaming silently, an unheard scream, groveling in her bonds to be allowed to put her hands into her cunt and pull the fire inside out, shoveling heat with her hands to relieve her agony. But it was not to be. Her body was helpless before his whip; she would receive whatever he decided she would receive; she would know pain when he chose pain, and pleasure when he chose pleasure.
He waited until she stilled.
TTTTTHHHHHHHHHWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPP!
He had walked between her legs to deliver the eleventh stroke. Brutally, this stroke came right between her breasts, slashing a line perfectly down the center of her body, over her belly button, across the abdomen, the line separating the top of her pussy lips and stopping mere millimeters above the top of her clit.
It was as though this stroke had opened her heart and intestines wide, the heat of the stroke pulsing downward directly to her clit, rushing deep inside her already seething pussy. Every fiber of her body convulsed at the pain and heat generated by this moment, the heat exploding inside her as her orgasm had earlier, revealing her sexual arousal driven from pure agony and his whip.
