The clock said it had been a long drive, almost an hour and a half since they left home, and it was getting dark. It didn't feel it though. 100 miles of twisting country roads, tight corners, blind crests and the occasional avian obstacle had flown by, one corner leading to the next like a river flowing through a valley. The engine note still filled the evening air as their destination approached. The adrenaline still pumping from the last daring overtake, and corner taken too fast. But the fun was only just beginning. Glancing from the road to his gorgeous, and slightly frightened passenger he asked "Having fun?" with a laugh
"Yeah," she answered, "you nearly killed us both a few times... but it was fun."
"Oh did my driving scare you?" he mocked.
"Yes!"
"Oh... Well if you think that's scary, just wait for what I've got in store for you."
"Wait, what? What do you mean?" she questioned.
Ignoring the question, he pulled the car into a small, empty car park overlooking the beach below. The engine note waned and was replaced by the sound of tires on gravel as the car pulled to a halt.
The driver reached over, and gently held his passenger's face, locked eyes with her and said "This is where the fun begins" and gave her a short, sharp slap across the cheek. Before she could even react to what had happened he was ordering her to get out of the car, and shutting off the engine.
"Out!" he ordered again, seeing she was still in her seat as he opened his door.
Still confused about what was going on, she sheepishly opened her door, and stepped out into the chilly autumn air as he walked around the car towards her.
"It's cooolllddd," she protested, already missing the warmth of the car, "and what the fuck are we doing here? Oh, and why the fuck did you slap me, cunt?" No sooner had she finished her sentence than his hand was raised, and she got another hard hit across her face, leaving a bright red mark on her otherwise pasty cheeks.
"Don't you fucking DARE talk to me like that, brat," he scolded her.
"But..."
"No. No buts. You do as you're told. You need to learn some manners. You've been spoiled recently. Nice restaurants, cute getaways, expensive days out. But no more. You get nothing until you learn your manners."
"I... Okay..." was her only reply.
"Okay SIR," he corrected her. "You refer to me as sir, and only sir. When I offer you something you says 'Yes please sir' when you get it you say 'Thank you sir', you treat me with respect. Do you understand?"
"You don't deserve respect, boy." She spat back, earning herself another slap, before he grabbed her hair and forced her to look him in the eye.
"You're gonna regret that," he told her, seeing the fear grow in her eyes as she felt the bright red mark on her cheeks, "you're gonna be so fucking sore. You're going to be crying. You're going to be red, and black and blue. You're going to be scared, And you're going to have to sit on your bruises all of the way home. So you'll have plenty of time to think about your behaviour."
"W-what, no, I... You don't scare me!"
"I fucking should. You should be scared!" he shouted, inches from her face. Then he pushed her against the car, twisting her arm up behind her back and pinning her there with it, holding her in place as he pulled a small swiss army knife from his pocket, and held it next to her face as he flicked out the blade.
She panicked "What, no, what the fuck is that for? You can't cut me, no, please!"
"Scared yet?" he mocked.
"Yes!" came the reply. "Yes I'm fucking scared!"
"Good," he told her, as he held the blade against her skin and began to cut her t-shirt down the side, the fabric tearing and separating as she struggled, the blade nicking the skin and bringing out small spots of blood when she twisted too far.
"No, please," she begged, but he ignored her and continued to cut way at the fabric until her top was split, hanging only by the sleeve of her twisted arm. "Sir! Please! Is that what you want? To be called sir?!" She begged, "please... stop... stop."
"Good." He growled "You've learned to call me sir, that's a good start. Let's make sure you don't forget it," and he released her arm. "Strip." he instructed her, and she slowly removed the tatters of her top "And the rest" he continued.
"What? No.. no way!"
"STRIP!" he shouted.
"Fuck off, it's cold, and we're in public!" she protested, spinning around to face him with a stomp of her foot.
"Nobody will see. We haven't seen another car in half an hour." He reassured her, taking a step closer.
"No way." she maintained. He grabbed her by the throat, squeezing it hard, as his other hand reached around her back. She struggled and clawed at him, as she felt the strap of her bra undo, and he pulled it off her.
"There's a good slut." he growled, ignoring her nails digging into his skin as he released his grip on her throat.
"I'm not ..." She protested, before thinking better of it, "yes sir". She recalled away from him, covering her dignity with her arms, feeling the cold air biting at her skin, touching the cuts from the knife and looking in horror at the blood on her fingers.
" Turn around," he ordered, "Against the car," and she shuffled over, standing next to it.
"AGAINST the car." He reiterated, pushing her against the metal, before pulling her arms from her chest and holding them above her head, making her squeal as she felt the cold surface against her sensitive skin. "Don't fucking move," he told her as he opened the car's boot, and zipped open a bag from which he pulled a pair of handcuffs and a cane.
She craned her neck to see what he was doing, not daring to move but desperate to see.
"Arms behind your back, slut," he ordered as he marched towards her. Grabbing her arms tight, he cuffed her, making sure she felt the metal dig into her wrists. Once she was helpless he reached around her front, and started undoing her jeans.
"Get off, cunt!" She screamed at him, struggling to get away, earning her a strong slap across the bare skin of her back with an open palm, making her squeal and grunt.
"Please..." She begged.
"Please what?"
"That hurts." She whimpered.
