He set the cane down and picked up the TENS remote.
The moment he turned it on, her whole body convulsed because the tiny pads on either side of her clit lit her up like a live wire. She jerked hard, which yanked her hair, which yanked the hook, which made her screams fill the room. He kept the current steady while he caned her thighsall over again, layering the two sensations until her overloaded nervous system had nowhere left to go — saturated in the dueling scourges of deep impact and searing electricity, trapped in place with only an anal hook and a single rope.
She’d gone from near-zero sensory input to more than the human mind is capable of handling, and he kept at it for a solid minute before he turned the unit off and held the cane at his side. Her back sagged lower while she breathed hard under the hood.
But he only gave her thirty seconds before he did it again, and his cock throbbed in time with her muffled screams. He needed to be inside her, but he made himself wait. He wanted hercompletelybroken open before he sank into her ass.
But he was getting close, which meant it was time to introduce her feet to the Delrin.
He’d been saving this.
The sole of the human foot is full of dense nerve endings, has minimal muscle protection, and provides direct lines to some of the oldest alarm systems in the body. Bastinado is in a class all by itself, and the first strike is always a revelation to someone who’s never experienced it. Not because it’s the worst pain they’ve ever felt, but because it’s completely outside their experience of pain.
He placed the Delrin an inch above the sole of her right foot, lifted the wicked instrument, and delivered.
Her entire body responded. Not a flinch, but a full-system seizure of response, both legs convulsing, arms buckling, the rope snapping taut between hook and hair asher head wrenched back. The sound she made inside the hood went straight to his dickandballs, and he would’ve come on the spot without the years of discipline he’d practiced.
He waited until she was back on all fours and then gave her three seconds before he took aim at her left foot.
Same response, maybe louder. Her arms gave out completely once again, and she caught herself on her forearms, the arch of her back even more extreme now with her upper body lower.
He worked both feet in alternating strikes, unhurried, two more strikes to each foot. He read her scent, sounds, and the intensity of her trembling.
Her scent told him she was still with him. Pain and arousal wound together so tight they were functionally a single thing, her body having long since stopped trying to distinguish between them. She was exactly where he wanted her.
He set the Delrin down and lifted the long fiberglass cane.
It was lighter in his hand. More flex, all whip — a completely different instrument from everything he’d used on her today. He held it for a moment, feeling the weight of it, the balance, considering placement.
They were nearing the end, so he decided on six more strikes before he sank into her heat.
He drew back and delivered the first one across the backs of both thighs simultaneously.
The crack of it was something she couldn’t hear, but she sure as hell felt it. The sharp red line appeared a microsecond later, and her response was everything he’d been working toward all day: every remaining piece of control she’d been holding onto releasing at once in a sound that went straight through the hood and filled the room.
And may as well have been connected directly to his balls and dick.
He applied the second strike slightly lower, and the third at the top of her thighs, aiming so the fiberglass wrapped around to the side.
He watched her arms give up entirely. She was on her forearms, and the arch of her back was the most beautiful thing he’d seen all day, the rope pulled taut, the hook seated deep, her surrendering to the ropes and pain. She washis, and they both knew it in that moment. No words needed.
Fourth strike across the calves.
Fifth, the backs of her thighs again, crossing the first line at an angle.
He held the sixth for a long moment. Watched her shake. Watched her breathe in ragged pulls through the hood.
He delivered the sixth strike across the arches of her feet, a soft stroke so it wouldn’t split the skin, but she wouldn’t feel it as anything except one of the most painful things of the day.
Then he set the fiberglass down and just looked at her. Her back, ass, and thighs were a mess of red and purple bruises and welts. The rope marks still visible, and the fresh cane stripes were stark.
She was beautiful, and she was his.
His fuckbuddy,he silently corrected himself.
He stepped behind her, disconnected the rope from the anal hook, and pulled the cold steel free. Her asshole clenched around nothing, still twitching from the long hours of stretch and vibration.
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