IR Future - Part 10

There’s no way that Lara can do a hundred pushups. Not in one set. With proper form. You can’t do that. Even if you were rested at the beginning of the day.

You and Fru Satan both get to see how wrong you are.

It’s not effortless for Lara, and she works up enough of a sweat that she’ll need another shower, but without any particular dramatics, she performs… one hundred pushups. Naked on fake grass, no less.

You’re so impressed that you almost forgot the bet. Lara, in as dignified a manner as a naked person can muster, repositions to sit and regain her breath. She looks expectantly at Fru Satan.

“Of course I keep my word,” Fru Satan says with a hint of defensiveness.

Well. Well, well. Finally, some sex in this sex dungeon. You and Lara watch as she pulls off her top, then unhooks the rather unremarkable bra underneath and removes it. Her pale, lovely breasts spill out. She’s a small woman, but they’re big enough to be a nice handful. Bigger than yours and bigger than Lara’s. Her tiny, pink nipples just don’t seem to go with her terrifying personality.

Very nice. Not worth going through hell for, but nice. Still, nobody’s breasts can compete with Ingrid’s. The thought gives you a spark of pride.

But it looks like Lara’s got a spark of something else.

Fru Satan, to her credit, wear’s a placid expression. But her eyes slip down from Lara’s face to her groin, where her cock stands at attention.

“Piggy!” she shrieks and Lara startles.

“Oh bollocks,” Lara says, trying to scramble away, but Fru Satan is already there with her whip.

“Put it away, Piggy!”

“Doesn’t work like that you nutter! Ah!”

You flinch at the whip in action and cover your eyes, then peek through your fingers.

IR

Lara’s ass, once an impressive sight, now looks like it’s been run over by a Tesla on autopilot. Both cheeks are covered in angry red welts that are painful just to look at. She lies facedown, still nude, on the rather pitiful prison-like bed that the two of you have to share. Her face is buried in a pillow, you suspect because she doesn’t want you to see her cry.

You could give her a cruel slap. She certainly deserves it. Or make fun of her.

But you don’t have the heart. If Lara is lucky, she’ll be able to sit down again by your wedding next weekend. It’s better to let her be. Although she probably wouldn’t hesitate to torment you if your positions were reversed.

You finish getting ready for bed. At least the day is finally over.

“Piggy.”

You shriek and jump, turning to see Fru Satan in the doorway. She’s holding something, and she beckons you over. You hurry to obey. It’s a tube of cream. You can’t read the label, but you get the idea.

Fru Satan leaves before you can say anything.