X Marks The Spot: The Flogging
The air in the hidden dungeon within The Obsidian Vault sex club hung thick and heavy, a heady mix of expensive perfume, polished leather, and the lingering aroma of sweat and sex. Kate Hawthorne stood in the center of the dark, foreboding dungeon, her bare skin gleaming under the soft glow of the pin lights overhead.
The room, with its impenetrable black walls, seemed medieval and she felt like its latest victim as she stood looking at the St. Andrew's Cross.
Her husband, Eric, watched her from the shadows, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of lust and possessiveness. He had chosen this hidden dungeon specifically for its privacy and its St. Andrew's Cross, a piece of equipment that had become a central feature in their increasingly elaborate sexual play.
Kate's long, wavy flaxen blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing her honey-toned skin, which was lightly tanned and studded with freckles. Her blue eyes sparkled with a mixture of excitement and trepidation as she approached the cross, her curvy figure moving with the grace of a woman who knew understood the power of her own beauty.
The St. Andrew's Cross was imposing against the far wall, its dark wood polished to a high sheen. Leather straps hung from its arms, ready to bind her in place. Kate's heart raced as she stepped closer, her nipples hardening into tight buds, standing out almost an inch from her soft round lush breasts.
Kate could feel Eric's gaze on her, and it sent a shiver down her spine. She knew what was coming, and she both feared and craved it.
Eric could sense she knew he was watching her. After all, he never tired of looking at her exquisite body ― nor touching it. She was a force of nature. She gave off the vibe of a vixen, a real man-eater.
Kate's skin was lightly tanned with freckles all over her body and face, making her look almost feral. Her round C-Cup breasts were crowned with small light pink areolas but her incongruously large nipples were as round as wine corks, sticking out almost an inch when they are aroused, which was practically always. They cried out to be licked and sucked.
She was five foot six, making her 34-23-34 measurements appear even more impressive as her long wavy flaxen hair cascaded over her breasts and down to the middle of her freckled back. Once your eyes ventured lower than her fabulous breasts, they were drawn to her clean-shaved pussy and her proudly protruding mons.
And then, when she turned around, you were rewarded with a view of her nicely rounded, pert, pear-shaped ass and the word WHORE seared into the flesh above her ass crack, leaving no doubt that her entire body, but most especially her ass, were made for fucking.
Though her husband took credit for turning her into a whore, she had been a willing infidel. Though she wouldn't admit it to him, both she and her stepsister Moira had seen a therapists who clinically diagnosed both of them as sex addicts.
Though they were step sisters, they could easily pass for identical twins. They had been raised together and had gone off to college together. Once away from home they both discovered how much they liked cock ― and each other, forming a lesbian relationship. They had been lovers for years now.
Eric watched Kate as she stood in front of the cross. It was readily apparent that her mind was drifting. She was in another world.
He stepped out of the shadows. At six foot four, his tall, lean frame was intimidating, dominant. He was dressed in a tailored suit, his dark brown hair slicked back, his hazel eyes sharp and piercing. He carried himself with the confidence of a man who had made a slut of his wife for his own perverse pleasure ― and in revenge for her past infidelities.
"Come back to earth!" demanded Eric as he slapped Kate's ass, making her lurch forward in surprise. "Spread your arms and legs, you slutty little whore. It's time for us to play!"
There was no doubt that Kate was both a slut and a whore now. He had made her his slut. But only after he had caught her whoring around with her boss. That had been her decision.
That very night Eric caught her, he had dragged her home and used her like a whore, again and again. He had taken her ass for the very first time that night, and then a second and third time and then he lost count as he ravaged her body all that night.
At first Kate had only acquiesced to his treatment because of her guilt and shame at having been caught being such an unfaithful whore. But as the night had worn on, she had a revelation ― she enjoyed being treated like a whore, a slut.
The more her husband called her a nasty little whore and a dirty little slut, the more aroused she became. She didn't have to be the good little girl any longer. She was no longer in control. Her new domineering lord and master was in control, and she felt free to be as nasty and skanky as she had always secretly dreamed of being.
Instead of that night being a crossroads in their marriage where they might have gone their separate ways, it was a cathartic experience for both of them, bonding them even more closely together in what became their mutually obsessive lust.
"Turn around," Eric growled, his breath warm against her ear. Kate did as she was told, her back to him, her freckled back, ass and thighs exposed and vulnerable. She felt his hands on her hips, guiding her into position, and then the cold touch of the leather straps as he secured her wrists and ankles to the cross spreadeagled.
Her arms were stretched above her head, her body arched slightly forward, her back, ass, and thighs bared to the blows of the flogger he retrieved from the nearby table.
The room was silent for a moment, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioning and the distant murmur of the city in the distance, far from the dark alley in which the sex club was hidden.
Kate's breath came in short, shallow gasps as she waited, her skin tingling with anticipation. She could feel Eric's presence behind her, his energy palpable, and she knew he was savoring the moment, taking in the sight of her bound and vulnerable body, his favorite toy.
She reminded herself that there was still an element of revenge at work for her past whoring as far as her husband was concerned. But that was OK, she had long ago decided. She would do her pleasurable penance. He had earned his revenge, and she had earned her pain.
Suddenly a loud slapping noise filled the dungeon and instantaneously, and without warning, the flogger struck. The leather tendrils seared into her flesh, a stinging kiss that made her yelp and arch her back.
The pain was sharp, immediate, and it sent a jolt of adrenaline through her body. She cried out in surprise at the severity of the blow, a mix of pleasure and pain, her voice echoing in the quiet room.
"Good little slut," Eric murmured, his voice a low rumble. "You take it so well."
The flogger struck again, this time lower, across her soft ass making it quiver momentarily. Kate bit her lip to stifle a moan, her body trembling as the red welts began to bloom across her skin.
The pain was intense, but it was a pain she craved, a pain that was tinged with pleasure, that made her feel alive. She could feel her pussy starting to gush, her juices coating her inner thighs, and she knew Eric could see it too.
"You're so beautiful like this," he said, his voice thick with desire. "So fucking beautiful."
The flogger continued its dance, the leather tendrils striking her back, her ass, her thighs, each blow a mix of agony and ecstasy. Kate's cries filled the room, a symphony of sound that spoke of her surrender, her submission to the pleasure and pain, to redemption.
Her body was a canvas, and each strike of the flogger was a brushstroke, painting her with red welts that stood out against her honey-toned and freckled skin which otherwise was flawless, other than the newly forming welts.
As the blows continued, Kate's mind began to fog, her thoughts consumed by the sensations flooding her body. She was no longer Kate Hawthorne, the jaded slut, the trophy wife, the heiress, the insatiable whore. She was simply a body, a lump of flesh, a vessel for pleasure and pain, a toy for Eric to play with. And she reveled in it.
The flogger struck again, this time across the small of her back, and Kate shrieked again, her voice raw and unfiltered. Her body shook, her muscles twitched, and she felt the first stirrings of an orgasm building deep within her. She was on the edge, teetering between pleasure and pain, and she knew Eric could push her over the edge.
"Please," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Please, Eric, I need ― "
But her plea was cut off by another stinging blow, this time across her ass, and she cried out again, her body arching as the orgasm crashed over her. Her pussy clenched, her juices flooding out of her pussy.
She was in freefall, she felt herself completely lose control and squirt, her essence streaming from her pussy, coating the floor beneath her. It was a mild squirt, but it was enough to make her moan, her body shuddering as the waves of pleasure washed over her.
Eric watched, his eyes dark with desire, as Kate rode out her orgasm. He could see the pleasure on her face, the way her body trembled, and he knew he had done this to her. He had made her this way, turned her into the insatiable slut she was today, and he took a perverse pride in it.
"Such a good little whore," he murmured, his voice soft. "You take it so well."
The flogger fell silent, the room once again filled with the sound of Kate's ragged breathing and the distant hum of the city. Her body was marked with red welts, a testament to the pleasure and pain she had endured. She was still bound to the cross, her body exposed, her pussy still dripping her juices down her legs and onto the floor.
Eric stepped closer, his hand reaching out to stroke her hair, his touch gentle.
"You're incredible," he said, his voice filled with admiration. "So fucking incredible."
Kate smiled, her eyes half-lidded, her body still buzzing with the lingering pleasure of her orgasm.
"Thank you, Master," she whispered, her voice soft and submissive.
But the moment of tenderness was fleeting. Eric's expression hardened, his eyes darkening with a new intensity.
