No, you get there safely

Leaving the footsteps behind, you try to find the room Diana indicated. Mercifully, the corridors ahead turn out to be deserted and the signs on the walls direct you to the other side of the hotel, the one facing the road. The accommodation here is smaller and cheaper, lacking the sea view and balcony you enjoy. You knock on the door and step back, standing to attention, with eyes submissively downcast.

"Oh, it's you," the short thirty-something man says upon opening the door, but you don't remember ever having set eyes on him before.

"I'm here to apologize, sir. My mistress says you can do whatever you want to me."

"Huh. Whatever I want? Is that really what your mistress meant? What if I wanted to have sex with you?"

"I'm sure my mistress intends me to do whatever is required," you answer with a blush, then show him your sealed sex and explain why certain acts may not be possible. He inspects you closely, running a finger over your slit that makes you moan involuntarily, your bare toes curling.

"Well, at least that should stop you making another mess. Come on in." He ushers you through and closes the door behind you. It suddenly dawns on you that he must be the man you squirted over at the beach bar. You didn't think this could get any more embarrassing, but apparently it can.

The double bedroom is quite a bit smaller than yours, but there's plenty of space for a woman not much younger than the man staying here to be suspended naked from the ceiling by her wrists, which are cuffed together behind her back. A stool covered with plastic anti-burglar spike strips allows her to support a little of her weight on tiptoes and ease the strain in her shoulders slightly. She's facing away from you, but she's pale, with frizzy ginger hair and sunburn on her shoulders and back that's worse than yours. Bent over, it's hard to tell how tall she is, but probably about the same as her master and her small breasts and round bottom remind you of, well, you. Her buttocks and thighs are crisscrossed by heavy welts similar to those caused by a cane, but curving over her flesh as though the implement were much more flexible.

The bloke unhooks the rope supporting her and drops her unceremoniously to the floor. She gives a cry of pain as the pressure is taken off her shoulders, but he pays no attention as he quickly removes the straps from her wrists and elbows. She inches her arms forward, whimpering, while he spins you round and starts to restrain you.

"Have you dislocated your shoulders before?" He pulls your elbows together behind your back until they touch as he asks the alarming question.

"No, sir," you reply, nervously. He finishes applying the straps and cuffs in silence.

His **** is still trying to rub life back into her arms when he hauls you right up to the ceiling to dangle helplessly, pain searing through your shoulders. He slips the loop on the rope over the hook on the wall and drops you. Fortunately, it's not far, but the jolt wrenches your abused joints further. Being a few inches shorter than his previous suspension target, your feet are well above the stool which would offer you respite.

"Pull down on her legs," he orders the redhead and she hurries to obey, grabbing your ankles and hauling on them. You want to object, but know you're not allowed, instead moaning in anguish. This is definitely a severe punishment for your transgression and you assume it has hardly begun.

He uses a retractable tape measure to find the distance between your toes and the stool, then ties a second loop in the rope. All the while, the girl keeps pulling cruelly on your ankles. She does relax when he pulls you back up to the ceiling, unhooks the first loop and replaces it with the second, but when he drops you again, she yanks down at the same time, so that you reach the bottom with a sickening graunch that you're sure must have done damage. Your cheeks feel wet and you realize you're crying.

The **** helpfully positions your toes on the spikes, but even at full stretch, you can hardly take any weight off your arms. Then, agony sears through your buttocks.

Looking down behind you through your tears, you see the man is wielding a flexible rod that looks like a length of hosepipe, but is obviously much heavier. He strikes you again, a blow that would've hurt under any circumstances, but after what happened on your flight and the paddling Diana gave you earlier, is agonizing.

He gives you a dozen lashes, leaving you sobbing and unsure whether the pain is worse in your backside or your shoulders. It's less than he had given his **** before you arrived, judging from her welts, but there's no guarantee he's finished.

You're left hanging interminably, pain seeping into every muscle, until you're disturbed from your misery when your cheeks are roughly spread apart.

"Hails, spit on her arse crack, would you?" The **** girl shuffles behind you and obliges, then you feel a condom clad penis begins to **** its way into your nether passage.

It's not the first time you've been penetrated that way, either in this timeline or the one that existed before you found the Rulebook. If you're honest with yourself, it's not even the first time you've allowed yourself to be penetrated that way solely for the pleasure of a man, with no concern for your enjoyment or wellbeing, but it's been a while and you're relieved he's not better endowed. It hurts, certainly, but it is far from the worst pain you're experiencing right now.

You become aware of the ginger staring intently at you while her owner brutally pounds your back passage. At first, you don't understand her expression, then you realize she's jealous. She might well hate being where you are now, but she hates anybody else being there even more.

Despite having much less experience with men than women, you know how to please and it's not long before you feel the prick in your bottom throb with release. He pulls out and steps down off the stool he was using, panting from exertion. The **** tries to take him in her mouth immediately, but he insists on removing the condom first. His sub moans in pleasure when he feeds her the contents and then allows her to apply her tongue to his sweaty crotch.

If you hoped for some respite in your ordeal, you're doomed to disappointment, because the lovers retire to the bed, leaving you suffering in your cruel bonds. They keep the light on, you're sure so they can watch you struggle while they spoon romantically under the covers, exploring each other's body with hands and lips, your shuddering sobs a thrilling accompaniment to their tender lovemaking. Your mind wanders to Diana and Fuckholes. You hope your girlfriend is enjoying her holiday and just wish she could see your submission. Pleasing her would make this all worthwhile.

Afterwards, the couple sleeps for you don't know how long, but it's still night when the girl wakens and stumbles into the en suite to pee. Your own bladder is feeling decidedly full, but unlike her, you can't do anything about it. When she returns, she disturbs her master, who seems to suddenly remember he has another submissive to torment. With a stretch, he gets up and comes over to you, running his hands over your taut, straining muscles. Your arms are somehow both numb and throbbing with pain at the same time and you hope he will finally let you down, but know that is his entirely his decision.