Chapter 10 – The Grand Inquisitor Has His Way
Back at Hans' chambers, he opened the door to his room, and pushed Emma in the direction of the bathroom. "Quick!" he ordered. "Have a toilet, then strip off and come to the playroom, as quickly as you can!"
Puzzled, Emma complied. Two minutes later, naked, she entered the playroom, and in the very subdued light, saw Hans, in his shirt sleeves, pulling to the centre of the room what looked like a very narrow vaulting horse, about fifteen centimetres wide and one metre long, with a leather padded top, standing about seventy centimetres off the floor. "Lean over this," he commanded, "and grasp your ankles."
Wordlessly, Emma obeyed. Hans quickly took each of her wrists and attached it to the corresponding ankle, using the catches on her leather bands. Her firm buttocks seemed to offer themselves to him, and he could not resist running his hands across them. "Lovely little bum," he whispered, as if to himself.
Suddenly, a mobile phone rang. Hans removed it from his pocket, and spoke. Emma could hear only one side of the conversation.
"Hello. Hans speaking."
"Pedro! Hello! What can I do for you?"
"A nice idea, my friend, but she's too inexperienced."
"No, really! I doubt if she's even seen one before, and certainly never used one. It would be unfair to use one in public the first time."
"OK, Pedro. Thanks for asking. Hope you perform well to-morrow."
"Oh, yes. We'll be there. Goodbye my friend."
Hans switched off his mobile. "That was the Chief Executioner," he said, mysteriously.
Emma sensed Hans kneeling behind her, and then felt leather being wrapped around her left leg, just above the ankle. There was a click, and then she felt her legs being pushed apart. Immediately, leather was attached around her right leg as well. In the gloom, Emma could just make out that her legs were now separated by a metal bar, about sixty centimetres long. Hans turned a handle at the side of the vaulting horse, adjusting the height so that Emma's toes could just touch the ground.
"I don't suppose you've seen one of these before, Girl," he said. "It's called a 'spreader bar'. You'll find that I use them a lot, and you'll be amazed at the variety. They ensure that your interesting bits are nice and accessible when required."
"No, Master," she agreed, slightly bewildered, "but what's going on? What are you going to do with me?"
"We have a problem," he announced with concern. "The letter I was handed as we left the Inquest as to tell me that the Grand Inquisitor will be calling here at midnight, to assure himself that I have punished you appropriately. I need to convince him, so I'd better get started. He'll probably want to fuck you as well; they say he's particularly fond of petite blonde women!"
"Fuck me, Master? But he's so old!"
"Old he may be," laughed Hans, "but not too old to get an erection!"
"What are you going to do to me, Master?"
Hans picked up an item from the table next to him. Emma uncomfortably craned her neck to see it. "This is a paddle," he began, "and it works like this!"
His hand rose, and suddenly fell. Emma felt a stinging pain on her right buttock. "Ow!" she shouted, "that hurt!"
"Just a beginning, Girl," he announced. "That was just a warm-up, and doesn't count. We'll start with six on each buttock, twelve in all. You need to keep count. After each stroke, I want you to call out the number. This is very important. If you forget, or count wrong, I start again. Is that clear, Girl?"
"Yes, Mast… OW!!!" she yelled as the first blow fell. The stinging pain sank in, and finally she whimpered, "One!"
"Just in time! You need to be quicker with your counting, or I start again!"
"Yes, Mast… OW!!!" The second blow fell on her other buttock. "Two!"
"Better!"
A third blow fell with increased force. She began sobbing, bewildered at her vulnerability. Tears ran down her cheeks, but she remembered to continue counting. After what seemed an age, she heard herself murmur, "Twelve!" and burst into tears of relief.
"I didn't hear you count, Cunt!" he bellowed. "Shall I start again?"
"No, please, Master. Twelve! I can't take any more. I won't be able to sit for a week! Please, Master. It hurts so much."
"Of course it does," he laughed. He caressed her buttocks with his hand. "And looks so lovely too – all pink, and very pretty. Quite irresistible! But you haven't thanked me yet!"
"Thank you, Master?" she queried. "For what?"
"For beating you, of course. It is expected. Or do I need to punish you again, to teach you manners?"
"No, Master. Thank you, Master," she blurted out, hurriedly.
"Good Girl. But don't forget in future. I expect to be thanked whenever I punish you. You are grateful for the time and effort I put into the task of correcting you, and making you into a dutiful slave!"
"Yes, Master. I understand. Thank you, Master."
He again caressed her buttocks. "As I was saying - all pink, and very pretty. Quite irresistible!"
He dropped the paddle, and moved behind her, grasping each of her buttocks with one of his hands. She winced at the added pain. With his palms flat against her twin mounds, he rubbed in circles, gradually widening the crack and exposing her pussy. Almost idly, his fingers caressed her outer lips, and he felt her shift slightly, as if to improve his access. His index finger probed within, and he felt her dampness. She moaned softly, pressing back against his hand, welcoming the intrusion, seeking for something to divert her mind from the numbing pain in her buttocks.
He moved his finger in and out of her orifice, feeling her juices increase. "Oh, you slut, you randy slut!" he murmured. His lust got the better of him. Quickly, he undid his belt, dropped his trousers and underpants, and without foreplay sank his erect cock into her with one movement.
She felt him driving into her. Part of her confused mind accepted him gladly, pleased to be filled, happy to feel a new prick invading her empty cunt. This was the man who had rescued her, whose wisdom she had learnt so quickly to respect. She wanted him to fuck her, to make love to her – but not like this! With her wrists tied to her ankles, and her legs held apart by the spreader bar, she could barely react to his assault. She felt as if she was no more than an inflatable doll to him. She felt used and abused. Tears flowed again, and she sobbed quietly to herself in her misery.
He continued to move in and out of her cunt. Finally, becoming resigned to her position, she pressed back against him, wincing a little as his groin made contact with her pink glowing buttocks. She so wanted to bring her legs together a little, to increase the friction, but the metal spreader prevented movement. Her vagina walls contracted, trying to hold him in.
Hans reached under her body, roughly grabbing a breast in each hand, and squeezing. She whimpered a little. He began pumping his cock in and out of her, squeezing her tits in tempo. She felt that he cared nothing for her pleasure; his one concern was to satiate his lust. After a few more strokes, she felt him erupt inside her, yelling in triumph. He pressed further into her, as if to eject the last drop of semen. She pressed her bottom back against him, silently pleading for more, but knowing that he had none to give. His cock shrank inside her. Finally, he removed it, and shuffled round to stand by her head, looking faintly ridiculous with his trousers around his ankles, and his shirt resting on his semi-erect cock. He grabbed her hair, roughly pulled up her head, and spoke at last. "After sex, it is customary for you to clean your Master's cock! Open wide!"
She obeyed, and he sank his member between her glistening lips. She sucked, savouring the mixture of her own familiar juices with the new taste of Hans' spunk. Her tongue revolved around the helmet of his penis, and she moved her lips up and down his length, as best she could. She sucked hard, her cheeks imploded, to squeeze out the dregs from his cock. Finally, he withdrew from her mouth.
"Mmm," he muttered, "you suck well!"
"I would do better, Master, if only I had use of my hands!"
"Another time, Little One." He grinned, pulling up his trousers, and tucking in his shirt. "Soon, I will put you to the test, but for now, we expect a visitor."
He stroked her buttocks, admiring the reddened globes. "Yes," he pondered, "they're quite good, but I'm afraid they are not red enough to satisfy the Grand Inquisitor. Six more, I think – three on each side – and don't forget to count!"
He retrieved the paddle from the floor, where it had dropped, and swung his arm. The paddle thwacked against her defenceless body with more force than before. She howled. "One!" she yelled. "That really hurt, Master – even more than before!"
"And this is even harder!" he cried, mercilessly, swinging the paddle ruthlessly against her other buttock. "Two!" she cried, as tears flowed again. She wasn't used to this. In the past, if a man had taken her, she expected a little gratitude, at least a pretence of love, not a beating on her bare backside.
The third blow landed below her buttocks, at the top of her left thigh, which until now had remained unhurt and white. "Three!" she whispered, sobbing loudly. A similar blow struck her right thigh. "Four!" Tears poured down her cheeks, and she sobbed uncontrollably, inconsolably.
Suddenly there was a loud knock at the outer door. Hans glanced at his watch. "Damn! He's early!"
He dropped the paddle, and headed off to answer the door. Emma heard additional footsteps, and recognised the voice of the Grand Inquisitor. "Yes, Master Hans, very nicely presented. She is a real find; perhaps my great-nephew's taste is improving at last!"
Emma felt a wrinkled hand on her buttocks, and another moving up the inside of her thigh. "I see you have already performed!" the Grand Inquisitor remarked with a smile.
"Yes," agreed Hans. "I couldn't resist any longer!"
"Understandably! May I?"
