Price of Betrayal 1 - Sex Stories

Price of Betrayal 1

... wherever I wanted. This particular whip had a small metal shard attached to the end. I had never used it on her before, and I stared into her eyes for a moment and watched as realization formed in them. "No, please!" she screamed as I snapped the tip on her left nipple. Immediately, blood started to ooze from the tiny hole left behind. I repeated the process on her right nipple, forcing another scream from her lips. "Let's see," I said coldly. "Two fucks a day, let's say five days a week for what, 16 weeks? That's one hundred and sixty fucks. Shall I whip you that many times? One wound for each fuck?" "No, Sir, please, it wasn't that many!" "Oh? How many times, then? Ten, twenty, fifty?" "We've only been sleeping together..." "Fucking! You've only been fucking! Say what you mean!" She gulped. "We've only been fucking for two months, and I only saw him twice a week, Sir." "Fine," I said, doing the math quickly in my head, "that's thirty-two fucks, then, give or take a few. Let's just round it to thirty-five, shall we?" "No," she moaned, but I barely heard her as I flicked the whip so that another bead of blood formed just on the underside of her left breast. "That's three," I snarled. I continued, circling her body and counting out the whips, delighting in her screams. "Four, five...thirty-two, thirty-three..." I paused and watched her as she slowly brought her head up to look at me. "Thirty-four," I snarled as I snapped the whip so that it hit directly on her clit. The hoarse ...

... scream dragged from her flowed over me, and I shivered in delight. I laid the last strike in the exact same spot, and she passed out completely. "Thirty-five." I dropped the whip and left the dungeon. The demon inside of me was finally sated, and I went to her room and pulled out some clothes. Returning to her, I noticed that she was still unconscious, so I released her ankles and slid on underwear, tight jeans, socks, and tennis shoes. I wrapped my arms around her torso and held her as I unfastened her wrists. She flopped onto my shoulder, and I laid her on the floor away from the blood pool beneath the frame and strapped on a bra before adding a tight T-shirt. If it hadn't been for the blood soaking through the shirt, she might have just looked asleep, and the sadist in me grinned evilly at the thought that the blood would dry soon, and she'd have to pull at the scabs to get her clothing off. I left her on the floor and went to my bathroom to clean up. I had blood covering my leathers, and I decided to just trash them. Amazingly little blood was on my skin, and it was an easy process to wash it off. I dressed myself in a white button-down and black jeans and slipped my black loafers on my feet. Then I went back to the dungeon and picked her up, not gently, and carried her to the garage door. I sat her on the floor, leaning against the door, while I grabbed her long overcoat, making sure her keys were still in the pocket. As I put it on her, it dawned on me that it was more ...