Under the Pine Tree

After the meal made from canned goods, I had managed to prepare generous dishes that earned me well-deserved compliments from my unseen guest.

- Well done, my dear, but this afternoon I want to make you scream in pain to test your endurance. Is that alright with you?

I lowered my head, trembling with fear, but I also felt my penis become moist. How could he cause this, even by uttering such terrible words?

- Is that alright with you? His voice had become even more terrifying.

- It's up to you, Master, my voice trembled.

- Very well.

He took my hand and led me to the pine tree he'd already mentioned, which overlooked the terrace facing the sea. He had rigged up ropes with cords and tied my wrists to them. I had to stand on tiptoe so he could tie me. After climbing onto a stool, he removed the dress I'd worn for dinner.

I was completely naked. He caressed my body for a long time. I shuddered at every touch. He climbed down from the stool, and I was completely at his mercy. He spread my thighs and gave me little slaps on my genitals. I let out small cries; the shocks electrified my nervous system.

- You're so sensitive. You're beautiful, exposed like this, at my mercy. Your red hair cascading over your shoulders is magnificent.

His fingers slowly traced their way up my trembling thighs, leaving burning furrows on my damp skin. I felt the cool evening air caress my exposed vulva as he twirled the thin leather riding crop between his unseen fingers. The first blow landed without warning—a flash of pure pain that made me arch my back against the rough ropes.

- I found a perfect black leather riding crop, and this one... have you ridden a horse?

- Yes, Master, have mercy. And the riding crop was my grandfather's; he used it to keep us quiet when he threatened us, but he never actually used it.

- What a waste. I'm going to make your skin red and teach you my discipline, which goes beyond mere threats.

The riding crop whistled through the air again, striking my flesh with cruel precision. I screamed as the leather straps bit into the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, leaving scarlet welts that throbbed in time with my frantic heart. His invisible fingers spread me further apart, mercilessly exposing my swollen genitals to the biting salt air.

My arms, stretched above my head, prevented any movement except for the slightest pivoting, as my toes barely touched the ground.

The whip hissed a third time, and this time the straps stinged the sensitive hollow between my thighs and genitals. A hoarse cry escaped me, mingled with an involuntary moan—the pain radiated in searing waves, mingling with the humiliation of being thus exposed, offered up.

The straps fell again, striping my skin already marked with scarlet lines. I arched violently against the ropes, each blow sending waves of fire through my nerves.

I felt his invisible fingers **** their way brutally into my mouth, stifling my cries as the whip struck again, the thongs coiling around my flesh like fiery serpents. My body tensed like a bow, every muscle trembling under the onslaught—my breasts, glistening with sweat, heaved wildly, my toes curling in the air.

The thongs slammed down once more, this time diagonally across my sensitive hips, leaving trails of fire that intersected with the existing welts. A muffled moan escaped my throat, crushed by his invisible fingers pressing my tongue against the roof of my mouth. My stomach clenched violently, each blow echoing like a burning reverberation in my lower abdomen.

The whip whistled again, this time striking the taut hollow of my lower back with cruel precision. I writhed against my bonds, the ropes biting into my wrists as a wave of searing pain radiated down my spine. His invisible fingers suddenly gripped my hair, pulling my head back until I felt every vertebra crack. "Look at yourself," his voice whispered in my ear as his free hand traced a burning path along my bruised belly.

- You're beautiful and you like it. You're soaking wet.

He inserted two fingers into my vagina and withdrew my juices, tasting them with relish.

His free hand traced a burning path along my bruised belly. His fingers lingered on the inflamed welts, pressing just enough to make a muffled cry escape my throat. The whip slid against my inner thigh, the leather still warm from my tears and sweat. "You're trembling like a leaf," he sneered, as the tip of the riding crop slowly moved up towards my swollen penis.

The tip of the riding crop sank slowly and deliberately into my sex, parting the sensitive lips. A hoarse moan escaped me as the icy leather traced a cruel circle around my clitoris, each micromovement sending electric shocks along my overloaded nerves.