The Procurist

(For additional background information, please read parts 1 & 2)

When Sir finally returned, he simply stood at the end of the exam table with a hand in his pocket and the other holding a short, fat, glass of what she assumed to be liquor of some sort. He stepped closer and took a deep swig from the glass. "Spread your legs." He commanded with a voice made husky from the drink. She shook her head no and clenched her knees together as tight as she could. He nodded and started to walk in a slow circle around her and the table. "That will be an additional punishment." He was behind her and she couldn't see what he was doing. She could hear him set down his glass and open a drawer or cabinet.

He removed the thick leather strap around her left wrist and quickly bound it with a few loops of thick rope. He removed the strap on her right wrist, but bound that with the rope before she could get free. He said nothing as he removed the last strap across her chest, then looped his arm through hers and picked her up easily. He carried her out through the double doors and to "The Wall."

Corrine was dropped to the floor and watched with wide eyes as he pulled down a thick chain and attached a wooden bar, like a trapeze, to it. He went to a drawer and pulled out another length of the thick rope and lazily made his way to her. She tried to hobble away on her bound knees, hands behind her back, but the floor was made of a bumpy concrete that bit into her skin. Without her arms to catch her, she fell face down.

He stood over her prone body and ran the end of the rope up and down her back and ass.

"I can see you shivering from here. You know, you are in some serious trouble. I owe you quite a bit of punishment. We had better get started."

He squatted over her and pulled her elbows together, pulling them tight and binding them with the rope. He grabbed the wooden bar and pulled it down further so it could catch under the hook shape that her bound arms made. Then he took the long end of the rope and tied that to her wrists. He stood and went to a panel of ratchet levers on the wall and started to ratchet the chain higher, pulling her body upright.

All of her weight was on her knees and the concrete floor felt as though it had grown cold teeth and was biting her skin. She moaned as he pulled the lever even more, making the chain shorter and in turn yanking her arms up even further behind her until she started to feel her body lift just enough to send starbursts of pain through her shoulders, yet she was still low enough for the teeth on the floor to eat at her skin.

He barely spared her a glance as he locked the lever in place and went to the large cabinet. He swung the doors wide and took out a big roll of white paper and some tape. She thought she could hear him humming as he set about taping the paper to the front of one of the cabinet doors. He reached inside pulled out a black marker and started to write.

Corrine could barely read what he wrote through the tears in her eyes. She blinked rapidly, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. She tried to keep her chin up to keep her drool from running down her chin, but had to resort to a disgusting slurping every few seconds. Finally, he stepped away and put the marker in his pocket as he walked back through the double doors. He returned quickly and she could see he had removed his suit jacket and had retrieved his glass.

He took a drink, then set it down on the granite countertop that housed the drawers that held the devices of torture he would use on her. He unbuttoned the top button of his crisp white shirt and folded his sleeves. His slow deliberate movements and the way his piercing blue eyes bored into hers made her shake more. He gestured to the paper, "This is where we will keep track of your indiscretions. I want you to take a look at them so you know what you are being punished for."

"Fuck you!" Corrine yelled back, but it sounded nothing as she intended. He made a "tsk tsk" sound and wrote another line at the bottom so now the paper read: 1)Talking out of turn (medication) 2)Did not comply (ball gag) 3)Did not use correct title (Doctor asked for age) 4)Talking out of turn (when aroused during exam) 5)Profanity (BULLSHIT) 6)Profanity (FUCK) 7)Talking out of turn (yelling for help) 8)Did not comply (told to spread legs) 9)Profanity (unintelligible) 10)Talking out of turn (during punishment)

He opened the cabinet and this time pulled out a long, thin, wooden cane.

"That looks like it hurts." He said as he pointed the cane to her knees. "Do exactly as I say for punishment number 1 and I will remove those binds and allow you to stretch your legs. Your first instruction is to spread your legs wide."

Corrine realized the extent of her current position. She knew he was going to beat her and that she had no choice but to make it as easy on herself as possible. She spread her knees as far as they could go by painfully shifting her weight back and forth from knee to knee.

"Your second instruction is not to speak unless you are begging." He paused to take another pull from his glass. Corrine silently vowed never to beg. She would not let him break her. "You may only scream, cry or beg." He set the glass down and squatted down in front of her so they were face to face. He removed her gag and gently stroked her cheek. "And I am not leaving here until you are begging."

"We'll see about that." Corrine responded, meeting his determined gaze with her own. He stood and wrote that discretion down on the punishment list as well. Then he was behind her and her heart started to beat double time. With no warning she felt a streak of fire spread across her back. The whooshing noise of the cane and the crack it made on her skin seemed to happen after the fact, like thunder.

Sir smiled as he heard Corrine suck in a surprised gasp at the pain. 'Stunning.' He mused silently as he watched the streak appear on her pale skin. He only admired the mark for a moment before he started raining blows down on her back in a controlled rhythm.

Corrine started to scream with each blow. She had never felt pain like this before. It was hot and cold at the same time; it was sudden but seemed to reach its climax after a second had passed. He was beating her in a specific rhythm. He knew exactly how long to wait between the strikes so that she would feel maximum pain. Her back felt like an raw, open, pulsing wound. She couldn't keep track of how many times he hit her.

"Ahh!" Corrine let out a short burst of a scream after each strike; the sound was like music to his ears. She would give great shuddering sobs and gasp for breath. He loved watching her squirm to get away, even though her knees would be bleeding from their time on the floor. He stilled his hand just to watch her body tense in anticipation of the next hit. When nothing came her body began to shiver once more and the only sound was her tears. He felt his cock filling with his want to cum. He brought his hand down swiftly, sending one last blow across her back.

"Are you ready to beg? And just a reminder, no talking." He said as he crossed number 1 off the list. "I'm waiting, Corrine."

She said nothing. How could she? She wasn't even sure she could catch her breath. Her undignified tears just kept coming and her whole body was shaking -- but she still would not beg.

"You know you really embarrassed me today in front of the Doctor." He said and took the brief pause to take another drink. "With that sopping wet pussy of yours today. Just like a whore, to be pouring pussy juice for any man that will spread her scrawny legs." He walked to his post behind her and squatted down to whisper in her ear, "I bet you're soaking wet again. Aren't you?"

She said nothing, her sobbing said it all. He ran the cane up the inside of her thigh and ran it along the tiny slit of her pussy. The sensation was overwhelming for her and immediately the desire to cum from earlier returned with a vengeance. He pulled the cane back and looked at the tip.

"Hm." He said and stood. She saw his shoes before her but kept her head down. He put the wet tip of the cane under her chin, forcing her head up.

"What do you see here?" He asked and showed her the glistening tip. He waited for her to answer and when she did not, he was sure to write that on the list as well. "My, my. You haven't even been here 24 hours and you're already up to number 12. I believe that is a record." He strode back behind her and this time started mercilessly whipping the soles of her right foot in the same terrifying rhythm as before.

She wriggled her toes as if that would help her get away. She struggled to pull her legs back together, desperate to get away somehow.

"Keep those legs spread." He said and she did. The chain above her shook from the jerky movements and her ragged sobbing. She was crying with her mouth open and was hiccupping with every sob. Finally, he stopped and walked in front of her again.

"Look at you. All spread out and dripping your pussy juice all over my floor. Look!"

She looked down and could see a puddle directly beneath her pussy making the floor a darker shade of grey. He grabbed her chin roughly and jerked her head up. "You fucking disgust me." He said, his quiet voice seeming to scream in her ears. He held her chin and slapped her hard across the face. He looked at the mixture of her tears and snot from her crying on his hand and made a disgusted sound.

"Is this what you are going to do for all the rest of your punishments?" He grabbed the base of her head by her hair and turned her head so she could see the list. "You have a lot longer to go. Are you just going to continue to excrete all over my goddamn floor like a fucking baby?" He slapped her again and wiped the muck from her face into her hair before standing behind her once again.

"That was 10 strikes on your right foot. I want you to count out loud after every strike on your left. Be sure to say them loudly and clearly or we will have to start again -- and don't skip any numbers." He swung the cane down onto her left foot. "ONE!" She screamed.

"One, what?" He replied.

"ONE, SIR!"

He swung the cane again.

"TWO, SIR!" The pain radiated from her foot, and she could feel it through her whole body. It seemed to settle in her belly.

"No, girl. We are still on one. And we will stay on one until you do it right." The cane came singing down onto the pad of her foot.

"AHH- ONE, S-SIR!" He swung again. Were they still on one? Had she said it right?

"T-T-TWO, SIR!" She called out. He made that 'tsk' sound again.

"Now, what did I just say? We will remain on one until you have mastered it." He looked at the space beneath her and the puddle had grown. She was a pain slut, too. He loved seeing her frail shoulders shake with sobs and the sound of her sniffling. He sent the cane flying down once again.

"ONE, SIR!"

'CRACK!' went the cane.

"ONE, SIR!"

'CRACK!'

"ONE, SIIIR!" She cried.

"Now you may proceed." He said and sent another blow down.

"TWO SIR!! UGHH!"

'CRACK!'

"THREE, SIR!"

The blows came at regular intervals falling relentlessly until finally, she had counted the last strike. But before she could take a stabilizing breath, he hit her foot once more with the cane. She hadn't been expecting it, but quickly shouted,

"ELEVEN, SIR!"

"The next time I gift you with an extra strike you will say, 'and one to grow on. Thank you, Sir.' You will always thank me after any punishment or sexual act. When not sure what to say, always err on the side of caution."

He dropped the cane to the floor and went to the drawers. He pulled out a pair of shiny pointed scissors and started towards her, then stopped as though he forgot something. She watched, struggling to catch her breath, as he crossed number 2 off the list. She felt her heart break in half. 'Oh my God,' she thought. 'That was only number 2?' When he turned back to face her, she could see the outline of his hard cock through the fine material of his suit pants. She was briefly mesmerized by the sight of it. She had never seen a penis before and wondered what it would look like.

"What are you looking at?" He asked her pointedly.

"You ... Sir."

He smirked and replied, "Oh, you aren't getting away that easily. What part of me were you looking at?"

She cleared her throat. Then cleared it again. "Your ... penis." She cringed at the sound of the word, even more humiliated at her lack of experience. He walked towards her as she knelt there on the concrete floor. He stopped when the bulge in his pants was directly in front of her. He was so tall, that she barely reached the middle of his thighs. She started to tremble anew from the close proximity of his hard dick.

"You want to see it, girl?"

Corrine looked up to his face, then down to the sight directly before her. She knew she had to answer or suffer another punishment. She looked up into his eyes and nodded.

"Out loud." He said.

"Yes, Sir." Her voice sounded so small.

"Yes, what? What do you want?" He said.

"I w-want to see it, Sir."

He let out a short burst of a laugh and went back to the counter to retrieve his now empty glass.

"Now, I see why no one has ever wanted to fuck you before." He poured some more liquor and put the decanter back into the cabinet.

"I-I-I- w-w-wanna see it, Sir." He said, making his voice high and shrill so as to mock hers. She could feel her cheeks burning red hot. "It's called a cock and I am disgusted that you would think I would show it to you." He knelt down next to her and ran the scissors down her wet cheek. "I want you to remember something. You are nothing until I tell you otherwise. Right now, you are less than nothing and therefore deserve nothing. Especially the sight of my cock." He took another sip of his drink and slipped one blade under the bandage binding her leg. He slowly cut through it, "And I refuse to even entertain the thought of letting you touch my cock." Once her leg was free, the blood rushed back to her toes and she flexed her cramped leg. Her newly freed thigh trembled as he moved to free the other side. He cut through the bandage there then went behind her and quickly untied her arms, letting her collapse onto the cold floor.

She rubbed her aching arms and held herself, desperate for some comfort. He pulled over the wooden chair so that it was about 10 feet in front of her. He sat down and watched her try to comfort herself. She looked up at him as if becoming suddenly aware of the picture she made naked and crying on the floor. She gathered herself together and slowly sat upright. She wiped her runny nose as best as she could with her hands as he sat casually across from her in the chair.

"Thirsty?" He asked. She nodded. A slow smile spread across his lips. He stood and went back to the sheet of paper and wrote,

13) Did not answer in a proper fashion (when offered a drink)

She wanted to cry out and tell him that she was sorry, but didn't want to earn yet another punishment. He went to the sink and returned with a big pitcher of water. Without warning, he threw the last bit of his alcohol on her, emptying his glass. He filled it back up with the water, gave it to her and only said, "All of it." She took it from him with shaking hands and began to drink it down. She could just barely taste the remnants of his liquor in the lukewarm water. She easily finished the glass and handed it back to him. He filled it back up from the pitcher and stood over her as she drank.

Corrine wasn't thirsty anymore but she took the glass with trembling hands and drank it down. Her stomach wasn't used to being so full, even if it was only water. She gave him back the empty glass and breathed a sigh of relief as he walked back to the chair.

"Come here." Corrine wasn't sure she could put weight on her sore feet and trembling legs. She leaned forward and put her hands on the ground to push herself upright. Her legs started to shake from the effort, but after a moment she was standing. She began to walk over.

"Bring that with you." He said, using the empty glass to point to the cane at her feet. She picked it up and as she wrapped her small fingers around it, she couldn't help but think about hitting him with it. When she was before him, she still had her hand tightly clenched around the skinny stick. He filled the glass with water again and stood to his full height. Seeing his big body shadowing hers, she knew she was trapped and that one skinny stick would do nothing against him. He gave her the glass, set the pitcher down on the chair and pulled the cane from her grasp. She drank the water and watched him over the rim as he began to walk around her. Her stomach was beginning to feel uncomfortable and she realized that she had to pee. How could she tell him that she had to go if she couldn't speak? Panic started to rise. She held the glass out to him and tried to plead silently with her eyes. He shook his head and pointed to the chair, "Put the glass there then I want you to bend over, grab the seat of the chair and spread your legs."

He watched her do as commanded and had to stop himself from stroking his cock through his pants at the sight of her quivering thighs. He pulled back and struck her on the ass with the cane, making her cry out.

"That is for having the nerve to walk upright like a human being. What did I tell you that you were?"

"Nothing, Sir."

He sent the cane down again. "I didn't tell you what you were? Is that what you are saying, girl? Am I a liar now?"

"No Sir!"

"Then tell me exactly what I said." He hit her little ass again, forming another red stripe on her delicate skin. She jumped at the pain and wondered how he could be so calm while he beat her.

"You told me that I am nothing. Then you said I was less than nothing, Sir."

"So what are you then?" He asked.

"Less than nothing, Sir." He struck her again, the stinging blow sending fresh tears to her eyes.

"Now, get down on your hands and knees and try it again." She immediately dropped to her hands and knees and crawled back to where she had been bound. She was humiliated to be crawling and crying like a baby in front of him. Where had her dignity gone? He picked up the pitcher and glass and sat again.

"Come here." He said just as before. She crawled across the floor to him and stopped just in front of him. She watched with dread as he filled the glass again and placed the pitcher on the floor beside him. "Take it back to the puddle your sopping wet pussy made on my floor. Drink it there and bring it back to me. Surely you must still be thirsty? I mean after all the liquid you've lost on my floor."

"No, Sir. I'm not." She said, hoping that he wouldn't make her drink that.

"So you are too good for my water?" He asked her.

"No, Sir! No, I'm not. I just meant that I'm not thirsty anymore and I really have to-" He silenced her with a hard slap to the face that nearly sent her sprawling backwards.

"I did not ask for a fucking story. It was a simple yes, sir/no sir answer. Now take the glass back to your disgusting puddle and drink it there." He thrust the glass to her, spilling a little onto her breasts. "And don't spill it."

She took the glass and realized she would have to hobble across on her knees. She could see her belly sticking out from all the water she had already drank. She was desperate to pee. Luckily, since he had spilled some of the water out, the glass wasn't too full and none sloshed out from her jerky hobbling. She got to the wet mark and began to drink.

"Sit in it." He said from his chair. Tears fell as she took a seat in the cold wetness. She drank down a gulp, then another, and another before it was gone. She felt her throat contract and she gagged. He watched her with disinterest as he walked over, pitcher in hand and filled the glass again. He stood over her and watched as she struggled through the glass. He filled the glass once more, this time to just within a hairsbreadth away from the top. She was really crying now. Her arms were trembling, making the liquid shake in response.