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Happiness in a plain brown wrapper.
The scream exploded from my lips. I was nearing the other side of the bed, when I felt his fingers encircle my ankle before pulling me back towards him.
This man was insane. That was the only thing he could be I order to compare someone trying to run for their life to that of a child throwing a tantrum and that made me want to fight harder.
"You're acting like a child again." I flipped on my back to kick out at him.
"Let go of me." The words left my lips through gritted teeth as I continued to struggle against him. He grabbed my offending ankle with his free hand and yanked me towards him, forcefully. I grabbed handfuls of the comforter, taking them with me as I was drawn closer to him until our middles collided and he was between my open legs.
He easily overpowered me. Pinning both my wrists above my head in one of his massive hands, he adjusted the both of us so he was able to have my legs between his and he settled his weight on my thighs to keep me from kicking him.
"I didn't want to have to punish you this early."
He nearly sounded regretful before The long forgotten knife made its reappearance, cutting its way up my favorite sundress, exposing my bare breasts to him. The appreciation in his eyes, at me being bra-less, was apparent and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out my own mortification at being this vulnerable. In our constant struggle, I missed the fabric he had tied around my wrists and didn't become aware of it until he flipped me onto my stomach and tied the extra fabric onto the headboard.
I continued to struggle and scream in attempts to break free, to hurt him, to embarrass himself he had done to me and he just sat there on top of my own ass completely unbothered, unscathed, and unimpressed at my "tantrums" as he called them. He sat there with all the patience of a saint, or an extremely resourceful hunter, and waited until I tired myself out. Which happened sooner than I would've liked. My movements lessened as my tears increased, my sobs grew. I couldn't buck him off. And this material binding my wrists together to the headboard, was knotted with Boy Scouts precision, and I briefly wondered if it wasn't out of the question that he was a member of a troop as some point in his life.
He cut the straps of my dress and pulled the remains off my body, exposing my backside to him.
"I want you to count each one."
His hands began to slide up the backs of my thighs before cupping the fleshy globes of my behind. The firm softness of his lips gently grazed the birthmark on my right cheek. My stomach dropped and my lower body clenched at the idea of someone kissing me there. The gentle caress creating new sensations within my body.
And then there was the sting. I faintly heard the clap of him striking me before I was crying out. "Count, Jo."
Again he struck me and again I cried out, the spot his lips caressed moments ago growing warmer with each stinging strike.
"You could be almost done, but with each slap you don't count, I will keep going until I hear every number going up to 10."
He was insane punctuated the last 5 words with a corresponding slap.
"One!" My voice was raw when I blurted it out.
Any shred of dignity I hoped to have held onto wasn't worth the agony. My ass was on fire and each slap was searing. I was barely coherent by the time I got to 7.
"I want you to remember, Jo, that I am not always cruel." He gave his final 3 blows in quick succession, which I counted dutifully, as he spoke.
I didn't hear him leave the room over my sobs. My ass burned something fierce and I wanted this humiliation to be a bad dream, to wake up alone and my life be normal again.
"This should help ease the burn." His voice alerted me to him being back in the room. I didn't even hear the door close behind him.
I assumed it was lotion he was massaging into my skin.