The Crucible

Carrie was clad in leather. Her nipples were clamped. Her ass was already red. Her pussy was wet. Above her, Hiroshi wielded a stiff leather crop with a wicked barbed tip.

If she focused her hearing, she'd be able to hear that similar action was happening all through this dungeon. But she wasn't focused on that. She was focused only on her body, and only on Hiroshi.

"So you want to be my pet, is that it?" Hiroshi said, swatting her ass with the crop, leaving another red streak behind.

"More," Carrie breathed. Another hard slash.

"My ****?" Hiroshi said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"More ..." Carrie grunted out, gasping.

"My love?" he said, right into her ear. Her pussy twitched.

"All of it," she said, tears sliding down her face. His face was inscrutable.

"You're barely worthy of being a ****," he said, the crop dancing on her ass again, until she hung limply in her bonds, surrendering to him. He awoke her with a soft kiss, and they looked each other in the eyes. She'd have to work her way up.