By: Candace Blevins

He stepped in front of her, like a mirage. His hands came towards her as if out of a funhouse mirror, and jerked both nipple clamps, yanking them off. She screamed in agony and fought her restraints, frantic from the pain.

He turned and fiddled with the dials until electricity surged into the plug and she writhed helplessly in her bondage as the current rocketed through muscle, nerves, and flesh.

The expanding swarms of writhing agony finally faded, but she knew he’d likely programmed a sequence and she’d feel it again soon. He walked behind her and she heard the whip and felt the impact on her right ass cheek, immediately followed by another jolt that travelled up her rectum and into her colon as well as across the skin and muscles of her bottom. He gave her time to deal with the pain, but not enough, and suddenly her left ass cheek exploded in agony, instantly pursued by another shockwave to her ass. The current coursed through her rectal muscles, spasmed around the plug, and traveled through her tissues so they seemed to come out of her clit this time. She needed to squeeze her legs together, but couldn’t.

It happened twice more, right cheek, left cheek, and then he disconnected the wire but left the plug in her ass. She felt him release the ankle cuff tethers and unhook the spreader-bar from the wench above, her head too heavy to bother looking up. He walked her to a horizontal bar, bent her over it, and clipped her ankle cuffs to the spreader-bar still holding her wrists apart. She couldn’t move, with her head near the floor, arms and legs spread, and the world upside down behind her. She closed her eyes to block it out.

And then he was in her pussy, the hard steel plug still in her ass as he slammed into her for what seemed an eternity and she must’ve come dozens of times before she was begging him to stop, to give her a rest, but he kept hammering, ceaselessly fucking her like an engine, on and on and on. When he finally came she was just a rag doll draped over the bar, a pussy for him to fuck.

He disconnected the spreader-bar and helped her to bed before removing her wrist and ankle cuffs and arranging her over a cushion from the base of her ribcage to her hips. A large pillow supported shoulders and head, so her breasts had a canyon to rest; and a bolster supported her ankles, allowing her knees to bend and relax. His fingers gently probed her back and ass and she figured there must be some bleeding when he gently wiped her with a cool washcloth and liberally sprayed antiseptic. He took his time cleaning her up, getting his cum off her and situating a towel under her to catch what leaked out before tenderly rubbing cooling gel into portions of her back and ass. He cleaned her pussy again, changed the towel, and then just lay with her until she drifted off to sleep, floating somewhere in the clouds, anchored to earth only by the warmth of his body beside her.

Chapter Thirty-Three

When Cara awakened the next morning she was lying on her side with one leg and one arm thrown over Travis, who was flat on his back. She sleepily raised her eyes to his face to see him watching her.

“Good morning. How do you feel?” he asked.

She blinked a few times, trying to clear her vision. “How long’ve you been awake?”

“A while. I didn’t want to disturb you.” He smiled, his affection naked in his eyes. “I like watching you sleep.”

“And you’ve got an idea for some new application and needed quiet time to work through all the possibilities and ramifications, anyway.

He grinned, caught. “Yeah, that too. But I really do love to watch you sleep, and I asked you how you feel.”

“Fine, but I haven’t moved yet so the jury’s still out. To be honest, I’m afraid to find out, but I’ll have to soon. The bathroom calls.”

“Go slow, give yourself time. Your arms and shoulders always hurt after a long painting marathon, so you’ll have a whole lot of aches and pains when you start moving. My masseuse will be here tomorrow. I’d have had her come this afternoon but I think you need at least a day before you’re ready for her.”

Cara nodded her agreement. She’d been horrified the first time he wanted his massage therapist to work on her when she had welts and bruises, but the woman’s a Domme and perfectly comfortable massaging around the marks.

She moved her head, tensed her arms and shoulders, and said, “Yeah, the pool usually helps too. What do you have planned for the day? I don’t even know if it’s the weekend or not, are you going to the office?”

“I’ve accomplished so much over the past couple of days as I watched you work, I’m good to take a few days off. I’m learning how to judge your marathons and I told everyone yesterday I’d probably be unavailable till the first of next week. You have me all to yourself,” he grinned apologetically, “Though, tomorrow if you’re up to it I’d like to get your input on some designs for a new project, but... Sorry, no shop talk today. Let’s get you up and to the bathroom. If you want to swim we can skip the shower. I’ll have Deb bring breakfast out to the pool; your one-piece suit with the skirt should cover the marks.”