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Leather cuffs were buckled onto his wrists and connected with a chain that Jagger looped on a higher hook on the post. Luke had to part his feet so a spreader bar could be used. Once that was locked into place, he could stand flat, but his body was quite taut. A whip would hurt more on stretched skin, and he started trembling as the reality sank in.
He was about to experience true pain in a few minutes. He had no safe word, and no way out. Jagger, being a master with the whip, wouldn’t shred his back, but he’d make sure his slave suffered.
Chapter Six
Jagger attached a nipple clamp to Luke’s left one and tightened it almost to the point of pain. “Did you commit theft?”
“Y-yes, Sir.”
“So what does that mean?”
“I’m a thief, Sir.”
“Yes, but what else?” Jagger moved to his other side to attach the other clamp. “What do you deserve?”
Luke sucked in a breath as the second pinched. “I deserve to be whipped, Sir.”
"Exactly."
A gag with a large leather ball was strapped into his mouth. The leather was quite thick so if he bit down, and he probably would, it would protect his teeth. Next, came a leather hood that Jagger said was required for all punishment whippings.
It covered his eyes, leaving him in darkness. The leather over his ears dulled sound too, and he had holes to breathe from around the nose so he wouldn’t suffocate. Jagger laced it up in the back.
With his main senses gone, Jagger’s touch seemed more intense. He flicked Luke’s clamped nipples to make him grunt and leaned in close to speak in a raised voice.
“One day, I’ll give you an easier whipping while you’re trussed up like this and let you cum on my cock afterward while you’re still bound.” Jagger’s leather-clad hands skimmed down his back. “Now, hold still.”
Like Luke could move much. It wasn’t long before he felt Jagger’s bare, wet finger probing at his hole. He seemed to be spreading around spit although saliva wasn’t very good lube for anal penetration.
It’d be enough for what Luke was sure was coming. Something that would teach him not to clench.
He had to wait for a bit, trapped in darkness and silence. Being restrained was threatening to make his cock hard, but the thin, short thing pushed into his hole put a stop to that.
“If you clench, it’ll only hurt worse,” said Jagger.
It took several seconds, but the oil from the piece of ginger in his ass started to burn, and he grunted as he wiggled a bit. He’d been figged before and knew it wouldn’t do any real damage, but dear Elira, it was a special kind of torment.
Jagger let him suffer for a minute before he spoke near Luke’s head. “If you ever clench again in later punishments, I’ll fig you until you learn.”
Luke had been figged before, and he could deal with it, but it wasn’t his favorite thing, and he’d never taken a real whipping with a piece in his ass. His legs started trembling because he didn’t see how he could deal with all of this at once.
But Jagger had been right. Luke had no choice but to accept it all.
The sound of the whip cracks were dull through the leather, but the sting of each one was fully felt. Luke tried to stay quiet during the first five on his back while the ginger burned in his asshole The lashes were quite hard and surely leaving red lines and welts that would last. It was bordering on what he could take at the whorehouse, but he hadn’t even had a warm-up to better prepare him. Every time his chest moved against the post, the clamps shifted and increased the soreness in his nipples.
He screamed by the tenth when the leather licked across his ass so hard, he couldn’t help but clench his cheeks. The tightening of his hole around the ginger made it leak more juice and rub on the inside. The burning intensified, and he pulled at the cuffs as he grunted.
Jagger gave Luke just enough time to process the pain of each lash and fear the next one. And fear he did. His muscles trembled at each crack and with every mark added to his back.
The whip never touched the brand or came close, so Jagger was completely avoiding it so that the mark and surrounding skin wouldn't be irritated or further harmed.
The twentieth landed on his bare bottom right where the first had, and his eyes pricked with tears as he groaned. He’d clenched, and the ginger was punishing him for it.
He needed to make a real effort. Clenching did nothing for his back, but it always seemed to help a little on his rear, and sometimes, the response was rather automatic. Jagger wanted him to let all the pain in.
He lost track somewhere around twenty-five while he focused on enduring each lash. What must have been the thirtieth struck his ass again, and he half-clenched that time as he let out a long moan. The ginger’s burning worsened, and he fruitlessly tried to twist as though he could get away from it, but his bonds didn’t allow for much movement.
By the thirty-fifth or so, he screamed through the gag. His tolerance was long exceeded, and he was certainly suffering for his crime. He told himself he deserved every lash. Every noise that he let out through the gag was because Jagger ripped it from him, and he’d learn his lesson session after session.
