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Leah flinched at first, then she grew to like the sensation. The rope tickled, grazed gently, and then bit into her with the loose ends.
Rick stopped his rotation. Opening her eyes, Leah watched as he went across and picked up the wooden ladder, left abandoned on the floor. Several feet in length, taller than him, it had a few rungs missing. He shook it, thumped the legs on the concrete, and waited. It stayed intact.
He propped it against the corrugated wall, using the undulations to trap the ladder and hold it in place, and the chock at its feet to stop it slipping. Turning to face Leah, he wagged a finger at her.
She shuffled over to him, legs jellified and leaden combined. The ladder was angled up the wall, slanted and supported; he leant against it, giving it one last test. By the time Leah had reached Rick, she knew what he expected her to do. She rested her body against it. Her hips fit snuggly between the two support struts and a rung just below her. Her breasts filled the gap between two rungs. She wedged her feet on either side of the legs, gripped the rung above her head, and swivelled her head to one side.
His hazel eyes had lit up. She could see the sheer delight in her acquiescence. “If it gets too much, you tell me to stop, okay?”
She nodded and then spoke her affirmation. “I will tell you to stop,” she repeated his words.
She waited for the first strike, but it did not come. The tortuous tickling returned as he draped the rope flogger over her back, down her buttocks, and then back up between her spread legs.
“Oh!” she whimpered loudly. “Don’t stop!”
She found her clitoris, her pubic mound, was resting right against a rung. A perfect height. She pressed her pelvis hard into the wood and at the same time, the rope curled between her slit and then up her cleft. She shook, almost violently, with the desire to come.
Rick laughed. A gentle, jovial sound of a man who was enjoying watching his girl lose herself. It was at that point he switched, altered his swing, and began to flog her upper back.
* * *
He was determined she should find pleasure in his actions. No part of him perceived what he did as discipline or correction. The little spanking over his lap had dwelt with her rogue behaviour. His cock ached tremendously. It took all his will power to keep it at bay and untouched.
To distract, he began to work a rhythm into his flogging. Back and forth, swinging his arm in a figure eight. Eventually, her skin turned pink, tiny flecks of scarlet too. He lowered his arm and aimed for the more durable bottom. She let out a screech. He sensed he was being too hard and
he toned down his actions, removing the force and concentrating on the rhythm.
Leah’s dark eyes glazed over; even in the dim light of the hangar, he could see them glisten, shine with unshed tears. He stopped, whispered a question in her ears, and she responded clearly.
“Don’t stop… keep going. It is bliss… pleasure with pain,” she said softly, stammering her words out.
The minutes ticked by and all that could be heard, other than the wind rattling the rafters, was the swing and thud of his improvised flogger. It coiled about her thighs, cuffed the apex of her cheeks and drew blood under the surface of the skin. The outer layer remained undamaged, simply rouged and heated.
Rick saw her legs shake; she was close, so close to completion. Dropping the flogger, he fumbled with his fly, grasped his shaft in his fist and exposed his eager erection. He wanted to feel her flesh against his own, her warmth and life force. He stripped rapidly, tossing his clothes on the floor, uncaring of their condition.
Twisting her around so her back lay against the rungs, he slid into her pussy. Her mouth parted and emitted a tiny moan, and she once again gripped the ladder above her head. Below she jutted forward her pelvis, allowing access to her wet interior.
The ladder barely survived his onslaught as he thrust hard and deep inside Leah. The wooden struts bowed slightly, creaked and held out. He wrapped his arms about her body, supporting her, and buried his face in her long dark hair. She clenched about him, drawing him in deeper.
Rick growled. It was happening too quickly. Not yet!
* * *
He withdrew. Leah exclaimed in protest; reaching down, she found him, stiff and upright, coated in her nectar and she tried to push it back inside.
“Patience. Such impatience,” he said, easing away further.
“Please don’t tease,” she said breathlessly.
It was a futile request. His fingers came back to play with her. He rolled her nipples about between his tips, then his tongue and teeth nibbled at each one in turn. She writhed, kicking and shrieking with delight at his little tormenting sucks.
“Keep still. There is more rope in the corner. I could tie you to the ladder.”
Leah wanted it, but didn’t. The strange dichotomy burnt inside her unresolved. It was like the flogging: desired and feared at the same time. His head lowered, his tongue licking down into her navel towards the apex of her thighs. Crouching down, Rick began to stroke with his tongue. Pressing it between her swollen labia, dragging his tongue over her clitoris. Her little engorged bud, exposed and protruding from its covering, had become supersensitive. A bolt of pleasure shot upwards into her belly.
“Don’t. Wait,” he said firmly.
“I can’t!” she howled. She came at the second stroke of his tongue and as she exploded, he sucked her clitoris into her mouth.
