CRACK...

LIKE A SMALL EARTHQUAKE..

WITH AFTERSHOCKS.

When she was trussed and bending

I became different...

I'd never been here before

although between the beer and the blowjobs

and the nipples between my fingers,

I was ready.. not sure for what,

but definitely ready.

I rubbed her ass firmer,

and bent to unloosen her top,

the white mounds flowed out instantly,

falling and tumbling into my eager hands,

like rolling dice,

loaded dice,

weighted to always fall with stiff nipples,

and warm fullness.

I grabbed them, harshly

and gripped them hard and tight..

they responded,

and her ankles made the cuffs rattle.

I walked slowly back to the closet

and kept her waiting...

I thought that I would look good in black

so I put on the hangman's mask.

and picked up a small broom from the wall of the closet.

I moved back towards her..

stood in front of her

and waited until she could see me,

until her eyes caught mine..

and then I snapped the broomstick

across my knee.

The crack seemed to snap her,

she began to wriggle at her silk bonds,

and kick over the metal traces.

I wanted to see her..

wanted to have her open to me,

exposed..on show

I pulled her gown over her back,

and the puffed petticoats to follow,

and then I saw her panties...

they were black, deep and dangerous black

and they were lace...

stretched tight across the cheeks of her pert ass..

and they were drenched.. soaked

and they were torn to shreds..

Apparently our breastserver

had sharp fingernails..

maybe that explained the screams..

The white of her asscheeks,

and the red wheal of a number of scratches,

were gleaming in the single spotlight...

I smoothed out the lace,

covering her with the torn blackness,

and I felt the softness of her ass,

and could smell the wetness between her thighs..

I knew that her lower lips were swelled,

full of the fire of her inner blood

and waiting to be parted,

thrust aside and entered,

roughly and commandingly..

for a moment I thought she whimpered..

I didn't care.. the hard handle was full in my hand,

and I raised it high above my head...

and then I changed my mind..

I wanted real revenge,

not just brute ignorant force..

I wanted stings not slams..

bites and not bruises..

I wanted the tenderness of flickering pain,

and not the dull thunder of aches.

I moved back to the closet,

and found the perfect foil,

the epée of passion,

it was coiled and white leather..

it had a woven handle...

and nine long lashes

I moved, with it,

back to her side...

and I placed my hand on her back.

I began to stroke the thin soft leather upwards on the inside of her legs...

I think I heard her moan,

as I raised my arm and swept it backward,

and then down.....

at high speed.