She reared back her fist and slapped him hard across his face. Tilting back her head, she closed her eyes and reveled in the sound of his small moans of pain. His face was red from the many times she had struck him, and his hair was a tousled mess from the moments when she had fisted it and pulled. Hard.
Her slave was a handsome young man. Tall, lean with beautiful green eyes and soft brown hair. His tanned body was one to rival the gods and she loved watching him sleep at night. His hair shinning in the soft glow of the moon, the slow ripple of his muscles as he breathed and shifted positions.
He was standing in the middle of the room, his arms above his head and his wrists chained together. The chain led from his wrists to the ceiling to prevent him from being able to sit or kneel when he got tired. His head hung over his chest and his eyes were downcast. He didn't want his mistress to see his lust for her. But ever more importantly, he didn't want her to know how sad he was she was displeased with him.
She didn't know it, but she meant the world to him. She was the first thing he thought of when he woke and the last thing he thought of before going to sleep. Not to mention that he lived only to please her. That's what made this torture so unbearable for him. It wasn't the sweet torture of a mistress having fun with her slave, it was the harsh torture of a disappointed mistress punishing her slave.
He risked a peek at her out of the corner of his eye. She had moved away from him and was rummaging in one of the many chests that lay scattered about the room. Each chest contained an assortment of toys for his pleasure. Or pain. In this case, he figured whatever it was she was looking for would be the last thing he wanted to see.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying not to panic. All he could think about was how much he hoped her anger would go away so he could please her again. He let his body fall and groaned as the shackles bit into his wrists, rubbing them raw. If only he could sit down for a minute, get some of his strength back.
"Up." she ordered. He whimpered and looked at her pleadingly. trying to communicate silently with his beloved mistress.
"I said up!" she screamed, and slammed the paddle against his buttocks. He let out a small whimper of pain and struggled to his feet. He could feel himself shaking as the muscles in his legs strained to keep him upright. He knew he had to have been standing there for two hours at the least, and it seemed like longer.