Eosi’s Redemption

* - *

- Hank - 

* - *

Hank was pacing around Eosi in the barn. They were alone in a secluded place for the first time, since their fateful night eight years ago. Eosi, kneeling naked at the center of the barn, was lit by four powerful floodlights casting long shadows and keeping the surroundings in the dark, giving the whole place a haunting atmosphere. In all their previous encounters, Hank had been a reluctant actor in their twisted interactions, but this time he would lead. He had decided to give into his desires and his anger, let his emotions flow freely and drive him.

She was in front of him of her own initiative, and he found that exciting, but he wanted to make their encounter his own. He rummaged through the black sports bag and pulled out the bundle of ropes. It was made of short to medium stretches of climbing rope, a fairly large amount. It wasn’t long enough for what he had in mind, he needed 20 or 30 feet. He backed past the lights into the darkness and searched for a while until he found it, lying on the floor amongst big and small clutter John the landlord had left behind a large spool of heavy and thick linen rope. He imagined it was for hoisting heavy loads to the attic and to this effect there was a big rusty metal hook at one end. Perfect! He picked up the weighty spool and brought it back to the center of the barn, the heavy hook dragging behind him on the old concrete floor, like the chain of a mean ghost. He swung and launched the hook up, successfully  passing it over a sturdy beam, directly on top of Eosi, leaving it hanging a few feet above her head.

- “Hands in front!” He ordered Eosi , “Put your hands together like you were praying… right like that. Now extend your arms forward and bring your elbows together. Good!”

Bending her shoulders forward on her thin frame, Eosi was able to bring her elbows and forearms in full contact. Hank took a short rope from the bundle and began to bind together Eosi’s wrists, as best he could, given he had no experience tying people up. He tried to reproduce a kind of hangman’s noose starting just below the hands, by repeatedly looping the rope over the two joined forearms. Realizing the free bits of rope were now at opposite ends of the newly formed coil, he ran a second layer of loops back on top of the first one, and then tied both ends of the rope at the wrist with an approximate knot. He pulled on the knot as hard as could to secure it in place. What he lacked in skill he would make up for in brute force, and hopefully the bind would hold. Eosi’s thin hands and long fingers were turning purple, the veins on her backhands becoming more prominent.

Hank dismissed any risk of cutting the blood flow, imagining it would be ok as long as the bind would not be kept all night. Eosi attempted to flex her arms, the ropes were very tight, she was only able to get a minimal space between her elbows. 

- “Now get up on your feet and bring your hands above your head” he directed her.

She promptly obeyed. Bringing her tied arms up forced her shoulders to contort, and pushed her chest forward. This further exposed her breasts, but at the same time stretched them thinner over her rib cage. Hank forced the rusty hook between her forearms below the ties, then gave a hard pull on the other end of the heavy rope. Eosi’s body lifted up in the air, bending in a quick motion and stretching under the pull of the rope which made her ribs even more apparent, and pushed pronounced purple wrinkles on the back of her hands. Her wrists were now strained supporting her full weight. Hank secured the loose end of the suspending rope to one of the barn’s support posts, running under a knob so it wouldn’t slip. 

Her toes were now hovering two feet above the floor, her body was swinging a little like a pendulum and slowly rotating on itself. Hank felt proud of his accomplishment, he took the time to admire the thin stretched body of his Malaysian captive, a powerless thing fully exposed and hanging from a rope. His rock-hard cock was poking an obscene bulge in his pants but that was just a sideshow. A deeper feeling, driven by a raw blend of arousal and power over her, magnified by his anger, was developing in his guts. It was still muffled but he felt the small wave could eventually turn into a tsunami, a devastating force which he very much wanted to build up. From her hanging predicament, Eosi’s eyes had remained calm so far, but Hank was feeling a growing need to change that.

He proceeded to re-read the remainder of her letter aloud:

“...

I have brought several tools which I humbly propose you use to punish and hurt me. First, ropes, cut to various lengths so you can restrain me. I thought you might like to control me and bend me to your desires. A ball gag, it was the most sturdy I could find, I thought you might want to silence me and enjoy tormenting me in peace. And a horse crop I specifically picked for its heavy leather tongue. I thought you might use it to tame me, so I obey you and follow your will.”

While reading, he lifted his eyes and caught Eosi murmuring the words he was reading, eyes closed. This declaration was meaningful to her, it was obvious.

“The next three items are more personal, they are my gifts to you, that I hope would cement our renewed connection. 

The first is a leather collar where I engraved “I belong to Hank”. I hope eventually you will choose to fit it on me and make me yours. 

The second is a cane I fashioned in the likeness of those used in my country. The severity of the pain and marks inflicted vary greatly based on the strength of the blow. The strongest punishments can cut through the skin and leave permanent scars. With this cane, I am putting my fate in your hands, and I beg you to administer the level punishment I deserve in your eyes. I will not protest or complain, and will do my best to face your will with dignity.

…”

There was another paragraph that Hank skipped for now. He slipped the letter back in the side pocket of his shirt.

On the second reading Hank got the distinct impression that she too had left her heart and soul on that fateful night. The tone was candid, reminiscent of the high school senior he once knew, which only increased his lust. Eosi’s hanging body was really working him up now. In his excited state, the crop felt too tame. Instead he undid his belt, took the buckle in his palm and wrapped the leather twice around his hand. This was better, heavier rough leather, it would hurt more. But he had another idea. He stepped back in the shadows and started to search through the clutter, then got busy on the workbench. Eosi was worryingly trying to distinguish what he was doing.

He reappeared just a few minutes later with his creation. He had sawed-off in half the thick handle of a shovel, and cut a slot about 2 inches deep in the middle of the cross-section on one end. Then, stripping the buckle from the belt, he inserted the base of the belt into the slot, secured it with two nails, then tied the whole thing up with loops of copper-wire. The result: a makeshift whip with a two-feet wooden handle and a heavy leather strap that would give him enhanced reach and power. Eosi’s breathing accelerated at the sight of the device.

He positioned himself at what he judged to be the right distance, swung his arm like a powerful tennis forehand shot, unleashing the belt-whip in a loud whoosh. The first hit caught Eosi right on the corner of her hip bone next to her slim abdomen, and she let out a high pitched “Aeeeee!” With a few more swings, Hank improved his aim and his confidence. Happy with his handling of the instrument, he proceeded to paint Eosi with red welts. Occasionally, he would still miss a swing and get a dud, but he was quickly getting better. Loud regular “whacks!” were starting to rhythm the quiet room, and with Eosi’s cries as a reaction. They were not yet full-fledged screams, the belt was too wide to pick-up enough speed to severely hurt in a single hit, but it was heavy sturdy leather, and just a few repeated impacts would turn her skin raw. He started with the back of her shoulders, working his way down, then up, then down again and repeated over and over. He could see the skin rapidly turning a nice shade of red, and the cries becoming louder and louder. Soon she started sobbing, but that did not stop him, he felt like in a trance and kept the swings coming. When he judged her back to be sufficiently red, after a rough fifty heavy hits, he went down the back of her legs, skipping her ass. She was tough and still managed to control the level of her cries. The back of the thighs and calves got the same repeated treatment, however he would still occasionally go up and apply a powerful lash to her now dark-red back, like a sadistic surprise. The cries eventually got uneven and less controlled, the sobs more powerful, and random kicks in the air more frequent, which told him he was getting to her, he was getting closer to breaking her spirit. As he kept swinging, he noticed his beltless pants were sliding off, so he decided to take them off completely, keeping his shoes and underwear on. His hard member was now protruding even more proudly under his boxers, but he felt at ease.

Now for the first real test, he thought, as he started to swing for her front side. There were no good spots there for Eosi to get lashed. Her skinny chest, her small tits and dark nipples resting almost directly on her rib cage, her skinny abdomen or her protruding hip bones, wherever the rough leather would land, it would be extremely painful. And indeed, each hit elicited a louder response. Heavy tears and screams became the norm, as her whole front upper body was turning red, hit after hit after hit, layer after layer of lashes. It culminated after fifty lashes or so, with a particularly vicious strike that caught her right on her already raw nipples. It sent her into a deafening shriek, with a flurry of contortions and kicks, giving Hank a pause. She managed to calm down eventually, but her breath was fast and punctuated by uncontrolled sobs, and her eyes now flooded with tears had lost their initial calm and resolve. It was time to adjust a few things, Hank thought.

First, he ripped a piece of her folded t-shirt, rolled it in a ball, and brought it to her mouth.

- “Open up!” he said, which she eventually managed to, still sobbing.

He planted the cloth deep inside her mouth then pushed the ball gag in, shoving the cloth even deeper. He tightened as hard as he could, and fastened the ball gag’s leather straps behind her head. She coughed and shook her head a few times, but Hank could see her red chest was still inflating semi-regularly, so he decided she could still breathe sufficiently. Next, he went back to the pile next to the workbench and came back pushing a massive anvil on the concrete floor, in a screeching noise, leaving white streaks behind. It was about a foot and a half tall by two and half feet long, and it took a great deal of strength for Hank to slide it all the way to the center of the room. He pushed and positioned it directly under her feet. He then tied her ankles together with a piece of rope in the same manner he had her wrists. Finally he slipped another rope in between her ankles above the tie, pulled down, then secured her tightly with repeated loops around the base of the anvil. The tension significantly increased the stretch on Eosi’s poor wrists and shoulders. Just for good measure, Hank took another piece of rope and fastened her legs together just above the knee, fully securing the Malaysian girl in place. As an added benefit to Hank, the ankle ties would prevent Eosi from rotating, so he wouldn't have to keep adjusting his position anymore. Hank doubted the anvil would move at all, even under her strongest jerks, and any attempt would be painfully felt on her tense shoulders. 

Eosi’s eyes had turned anxious and were fixated on Hank, as he dusted-off his hands and picked up the makeshift whip again. The strong lashes resumed on Eosi’s chest, her tense and now overextended body only slightly bowing to the repeated hits. He lashed and lashed again on her breasts, the screams in response were raw, even if muted by the rag in her mouth. Her gaze was becoming more and more desperate. She was full-on crying, and Hank could see the pain distorting her face. Worse, snot was abundantly dripping from her nose, which made it difficult to breathe at all. She got caught a few times, unable to inhale which triggered a sudden and violent panic. She had to put all her strength into forcing in what little air could seep through the ball gag and cloth in her mouth. Snot and spit would go down the wrong way in her trachea, and resulted in intense coughing fits. Once she would manage to catch her breath, she then had to attempt blowing the snot off her nose, sending it flying off in a disgusting display. Hank noticed her struggle, but was too far caught in his relentless lashing to pause and help her. He must have given over another fifty forceful whacks on her breast, when he finally stopped, panting. With most hits, the rough heavy belt had hit the nipples.

Sweaty and out of breath from the effort, Hand took a long pose to examine Eosi. She was breathing in short bursts, the panic in her eyes was now a full fledged distress and a flood of tears were covering her cheeks. Her hands were blue, her shoulders red with strain, and her shaven armpits were sweating in large drops. Her face was a red mess from the tears and pain, her mouth distorted by the gag covered in snot and leaking spit, a disgrace. Her whole body was shaking. The skin on her back, her legs, but especially her flat chest was striped in various tones of dark red.

He took a step towards her, and switching his instrument to his left hand, he extended his main hand up and cupped her breast. She emitted a muted shriek, the salt of his sweaty palm sharply prickling her raw breast. Surprised by her reaction he instinctively backed off his hand and noticed a smudge of red in his palm. He paused a moment, but quickly brought his hand back, and got her to shriek again. He could feel her skin burning hot from the lashes. He then gave the tit a sharp pinch and twist, while looking her straight in the eyes. 

- “Mmmmmmhaaaaaaa!” she replied with a violent jerk that maybe was supposed to compensate for the twist. This was an instant regret as it put more pressure on her wrists and shoulders. She heaved a few times in shock, and then resumed her profuse crying.

Satisfied, he slid his hand slowly down her raw chest, feeling the bump of each rib, and further down smooth stretched skin of her thin abdomen, also warm from the lashes and pulsating with each sob. Then, moving downwards to her mound, he brushed her lips and slid three of his large fingers under her sex, in the small gap between her tied-together thighs. She had a faint reaction to his venture, tilting back her hip, but she quickly relaxed under the extra tension that even a minor movement was causing. It was the first time he was touching her so intimately, and to his surprise the fingers slid easily through the juice that flooded the bottom of her lips and coated the caramel skin between her wiry thighs. How does that happen, he wondered, for a girl in burning pain, her spirit on the brink of breaking? Maybe there was a good amount of sweat as well, but her pussy was undeniably very wet. He could have so easily slid a finger into her over lubricated entrance, but this was not on his mind right now. It just pleased him that she was responding this way to the torment, it felt right.

* - *

He took a few steps back, tossed the makeshift whip over to the workbench, then walked to the post and untied the suspending rope. Slowly he lowered Eosi down. She first attempted to take foot on the anvil, but slipped on the sweat, spit and juice. Soon, her toes touched the ground, and as Hank was giving more rope, she started to slowly collapse on the floor, her ankles still tied to the anvil and her thighs still bound together. When the tension on the thick linen rope was finally gone, she was lying on her side, her tied wrists in front of her, her body still sobbing and shaken by the occasional cough.

He knelt next to her, lifted the side of her head with one hand and proceeded to untie her gag. A large amount of spit drooled to the floor as she attempted to flex her stiff jaw. Hank then placed two fingers in her opened mouth and pulled the t-shirt rag out. It was more like a spit and snot sponge at this point. As soon as it was out, the poor girl started coughing, expelling even more slobber to the floor. With her mouth unobstructed she immediately inhaled a lung full of air and her breathing went into overdrive, like a freediver hitting the surface after a record underwater. Hank realized then how much she had been struggling with breathing, and how much it must have added to her ordeal. Her face looked properly exhausted, her expression vacant. Hank tried to wipe her face with the rag, but all it did was spread more drool on her tan, tired face. 

- “May… may I get water… Hank Sir, please…” she murmured. 

Hank obliged and brought over a bottle from the workbench to her mouth. He fed her small sips, as her hands were still bound, when the ties on her forearms caught his eyes. The two loops closest to the hands had a distinct red tint to them. He untied them, and he discovered deep scrapes and rope burns on the top of her wrists. She stretched her hands and flexed her wrists bringing a renewed wave of tears to her eyes. From up close, he could see the many burns and scrapes the belt had left all over her body. In many places droplets of blood were pearling at small tears in the skin. Her chest and small breasts had taken the worst of it, lacerated by a flurry of red and dark welts. The tips of her normally dark nippes were also bloody red and raw, like the burning tip of two cigarettes. Her left nipple was actually bleeding, the skin cracked just below her areola. She was shaking and shivering.

He turned his attention back to her face:

- “You did good, Eosi… but we are not nearly finished. Do you understand?”

She nodded, with a tired but accepting look in her eyes.

* - *

While comforting her, he had put together the next part of his plan. He untied Eosi from the anvil, but kept her ankles bound together. He asked her to resume her kneeling position. Raw, red, shivering and sobbing, she was nothing like the calm girl kneeling naked in front of him just an hour ago. He then walked beyond the flood lights to the far corner of the barn, and dragged over a long post of weathered wood. He positioned it about 2 feet behind the girl, parallel to her shoulders. The beam was wide and heavy, maybe an 8 by 8 inches cross-section and close to 10 feet long. Lifting each side in turn, he set a small supporting piece of wood under the large beam, so as to elevate it slightly from the concrete floor.

He then asked Eosi to sit on the floor, sliding her tied ankles aside from underneath her butt, and to lay back down, shoulders on the old wooden beam, head tilted back touching the concrete. She winced as the battered skin of her upper back came in contact with the rough surface of the wood. Next, Hank got her to spread her arms on each side, along the wood. From up top, she would resemble a Christ-like figure, waiting for her crucifixion. Grabbing some of the remaining ropes from the bag, Hank fastened each forearm to the wooden post, just below the elbow this time, to avoid aggravating the deep scrapes at her wrists. He then decided to add an additional bit of rope for each arm, across the biceps to secure her tightly in place. Finally he kicked off the small wooden pieces elevating the beam from the floor, bringin it down a bit. Now the weight of the bean fully rested on the rope tying Eosi to her half cross. The post was so long there were a good two feet extending beyond each of her hands. Just like the anvil, the wooden beam was unlikely to move under her struggles.

Next, he instructed her to lift her hips and arch her back. Not an easy task in her state, with her arms fully secured to the heavy wooden post lying on the floor. But she put her resolve to it, she was fit and flexible, and so despite her aching body she did as ordered. Hank put in all his weight to slide the anvil under Eosi’s arch, the length of the heavy iron implement parallel to the wooden bean, so the points were on each side of Eosi’s abdomen. If she would relax her legs and lower her hips, the anvil would press uncomfortably against the small of her bruised back, just at the top of her hip bone. Seeing the picture starting to come together, Hank was encouraged to continue. He took one of the last lengthy strips of rope from the bag. He laid it centered on Eosi’s abdomen, just under her belly-button, and wrapped each end once around her waist, so the rope was looping three times in total around her. 

Crouching just above her face, his erection-stretched boxers a few inches from her face, and with one end of the rope in each hand, he pulled as hard as he could squeezing her already tiny waist to a ridiculously small size. Eosi emitted a surprised “Ghhhhhasssp!” from under his crotch, as he wrapped each end of the rope around the base of the anvil a number of times and tied them together, again in a not-so-academic but tight knot. Eosi’s chest was inflating significantly with each breath now that her waist was so constricted, and her face started to turn back to red. For a minute her eyes appeared to frantically scan the room in a short panic, but she managed to calm herself down, resuming her shallow breathing.

For the final touch, he walked around her and lifted her ankles. They were still tied together, and he attached them to the rusted hook at the end of the heavy linen rope, in the same way he had done her wrists earlier. Grabbing the free-end of the heavy suspended rope, he gave again a sharp pull, which stretched her legs up, and dug her abdominal ties even further into her already compressed guts. Finally he could rest and contemplate his work. 

Eosi was arms spread and tied across a giant wooden beam on the floor, her severely constricted abdomen was tied down to an anvil, her back was arched painfully against its edge, and her legs were tied together straight up, hanging for a hook. Her only saving grace, the pull of the hook on her ankles was relieving some of the pressure from the small of her back. In addition, with her head tilted back resting on the concrete floor, she had no way to see what Hank was doing, except if she lifted it up and brought her chin all the way to her chest. Hank didn’t like that, if she started to flail her head like she had done before, she could bang it on the floor or even break her neck. He brought over an old dusty folded blanket from the clutter and slid it under the back of her head. Almost perfect, just one last adjustment. He went back to the work bench and cut a rough 5 inches strip off the blood-stained heavy belt he had used as a whip. Forcefully folding it in two along its length, he shoved it between her jaws. 

- “Bite on this” he advised her.

He walked around her, verifying that everything was in place. Looking once more at her striped torso, he couldn’t resist the temptation to test her spirits before the next phase. He lifted his foot, and with the rough sole of his heavy duty shoe, he pushed down on her bruised left breast and twisted like he was putting off a cigarette on the street. She immediately arched her back and went “gnnnnnnnnnnhhh!” biting down on the leather. She was starting to sweat again, her breathing was accelerating. From his standing position Hank could see all the muscles of her toned body contracting under the pain. His cock, as hard as ever, was threatening to tear his boxers open. But he was no longer the man in the school basement, when a brush of Eosi’s soft lips had sent him jizzing all over her face. No, his excitement was much deeper, coming from his guts and radiating over his body and mind. He was calm and in total control.

He walked back to the black sports bag and seized the cane Eosi had fashioned for him. It was made of sturdy but flexible wood, with the handle covered by a thick rubber tape. It was probably not as heavy as the real judicial canes used on prisoners in Asia, but it was sufficiently threatening. Hank swung it a few times in the air, making this characteristic high-pitched “whoosh” sound, and Eosi shivered. Hank positioned himself beside Eosi’s rear end. The view was incredible, he could see the back of her toned calves and thighs, still criss-crossed in the welts of the belt, leading down to her tan ass cheeks, which had been mostly spared so far. Just like the rest of her body her rear end was skinny, but toned enough that her rounded ass cheeks presented good targets for the cane. Looking closer, he wondered if he saw a few scars where the heavy paddle had once broken her skin all those years ago. Her lower back was resting on the anvil just a foot and a half above the ground, so Hank would have to bend down to hit the ass in full force. He was happy to oblige. Peaking in between her toned caramel cheeks, Hank could distinguish most of her brown pussy lips and the dark dot that was her asshole. The sticky droop covering the area had half dried during the time it took to fasten her in place. 

The first hit landed with a painful smack, Eosi gave a small jerk and a cry, but the stick only left a soft red bruise across her cheeks. That wouldn’t do, this cane had to make up for eight years of Hank’s hell. The second hit whooshed the air at a much higher pitch, and landed in a resounding whack across her ass. She contorted under the pain, the abdominal rope constricting her guts ever more, and the twerk of her shoulders shaking the wooden beam. She bit down on the leather and emitted a long wailing cry. Her puffy red eyes started to tear again. The mark was deeper this time, especially towards the end of the cane, where a bright red line was quickly swelling. He needed to line up better and hit more evenly. So he swung again slightly above the last one, with even more force. Eosi shook once more, with the same effects, and a more intense wail, followed by shallow thoracic breaths. And one more… and one more… When he landed a particularly vicious hit, he heard the wooden beam slightly jumping under the power of Eosi’s body contorting, followed by a raw cry, her head shaking, and various muscles of her body contracted in a disorderly manner, as if the pain was overloading her nervous system. In between hits she was crying profusely, sometimes randomly screaming, trying to release the hurt that her body couldn’t contain. And with each hit, he could see the bottom of her pussy getting juicier, goop flying off with her twerks or drooping towards her asshole.  Eleven… Twelve… Thirteen... The marks were now covering her ass from the top to the first few inches of her thighs. And blood was freely dripping from a few of them. Two more, Hank thought. But this time he wouldn’t hit fresh skin. The fourteenth hit sent her whole body into a new level of contortion. A hoarse scream came from deep in her throat, and sent the leather bit flying. Her body started convulsing, but she screamed again and calmed herself with difficulty. Hank walked over, picked up the gooey leather which had left a trail of spit as it landed on the floor, and firmly stuffed it again between Eosi’s jaws. He resumed his position, and swung his hardest for the fifteenth. Under the impact, Eosi shook both the anvil and the wooden post, and she screamed behind the leather for a full minute. The cane had landed exactly on the mark of the first unbalanced hit. As Hank lifted the cane from her ass, he saw a good bit of the swelled skin dangling off, and blood running down her ass cheek right from where the tip of the cane had hit the very first time. 

* - *

It was otherworldly. In any other circumstances, Hank would have stopped a long time ago, screamed, cried and rescued the poor Eosi. But not here, he was just admiring the result of his work, as in a trance. Eosi had screamed her heart out, she had cried rivers, she had nearly choked and now her guts were getting squeezed impossibly and her ass was beaten bloody, but she had not asked him to stop, she had not once begged him for mercy. She was not gagged, she was enduring of her own free will..

Hank walked around her again, crouched next to her face, removed the leather bit from her mouth and waited for a pause in her deep body-shaking sobs. When she calmed down he calmly said: 

- “Eosi… shall I read out loud the last paragraph of your letter?”

She started to cry again. Hank retrieved the folded letter from his shirt pocket and read:

“...

The third personal gift is something I made for you, for us, after our encounter at the Park. You said I didn’t deserve the pleasure to be fucked and you were right. But you Hank Sir, you deserve the right to fuck me and to punish me. And so I made with my own hands this special present for you. It is a leather sleeve that can be fastened around your penis or an object of your choice. The leather is lined with tacks, the spikes protruding out of the leather like thorns. I hope that you would fuck me with this sleeve, so you can take pleasure from my suffering and I can take your pain to myself, from your pleasure.

Your Eosi. ”

He paused for a moment, and got up.

- “I certainly hope you meant it” he added, looking down on the distressed girl.

Hank walked back to the black sports bag and removed his boxers, his proud member standing fully erect in plain view, finally ready to assault Eosi. He retrieved the sleeve from the bag. It was a hollow cylinder made of sturdy stiff leather, opened at both ends and with a slit running along the full length of it. There were thin straps to secure it closed. It was roughly five inches long, with tack spikes lining the first four inches. Hank stretched it open and fitted it on his cock. In addition to the serrated teeth, which lined the cuff just below his glans, it added a level of thickness to his already respectable shaft. He walked first to the large rope and untied it from the post, which lowered Eosi’s legs and feet, and pressed her lower back fully against the anvil. He then untied the ropes around her thighs and ankles. The skin under the ropes had deep marks from the pressure, but the skin was not broken, unlike at her wrists.

Kneeling in front of her, and holding her ankles up, Hank spread her legs, opening at the same time her bloody ass cheeks and further exposing her soaking wet pussy lips. It also  gave him a direct view of her constricted abdomen, the compressed skin bright red from the intense rope friction during her numerous pain contortions.

Hank positioned his cock at the entrance of her pussy, and pushed slowly but steadily. She was moist but very tight, and it took effort to get his sizable tip to penetrate her. As he pushed further the sharp teeth started to contact the sensitive skin of her vagina’s entrance. It became instantly harder to push in, as the spiked sleeve started pulling her inner and outer lips inside her hole. Eosi didn’t react at first, the spikes were just pulling on her vulva’s skin like it was stuck to Hank’s shaft. Hank, needing more grip, tried to use the rope circling Eosi’s abdomen, but it was so tight he couldn’t even slip a finger under it. He resolved to grab each of her protruding hip bones just below the rope. 

With steady force, he pushed himself all the way in, scraping her labia raw against the thorns, and then digging into the inside lining of her sex. As if that wasn’t enough, his assault also violently pushed the small of her back against the sharp steel edge of the anvil. She screamed like a gutted pig, as Hank had forgotten to give her back the leather to bite on. He quickly placed a hand over her mouth to muffle her deafening scream, and started pumping his sleeved shaft inside her. She would contort with each push, wriggling her face from his pressed hand, and emitting coarse, animalistic screams. Hank was pumping, harder and harder. His hand was failing to keep up with the sharp twists of her face, and so he just went for the neck. He would squeeze when she screamed, and would occasionally relax his grip just enough for her to take a breath, then squeezed again to prevent the next scream. And he kept ramming his cock deep inside here. With the sleeve partially shielding his cock from touching Eosi’s tight tunnel, it was taking longer for him to come. And with each thrust, the vicious spikes were scraping the insides of her sensitive organ. 

Looking down between her legs, he could see the base of his cock and the area around Eosi’s vagina turning more and more red. And just above her mound, with each deep push he could see a bulge pushing beneath her rope-constricted abdominal skin, as the tip of his cock was pushing against her over-constrained insides. His hip was now fully driving the assault, and with one hand at her throat, he instinctively moved the other to grab one of her tits, which sent Eosi in another flurry of body jerks. It was not a soft cupping either, he was a force of nature right now, a bull. And he grabbed that tit like he was going to tear it off. He pumped faster and faster, his sweat dripping on her red, raw skin. He thought he could see blood pooling as well, next to the ropes binding her waist. They were slightly moving under each of his thrusts, digging in he skin. Eosi’s eyes were turning inside her head, and showing the white of her eyeballs. She was unable to cope with the intermittent air flow, the pain from her bruised tit that Hank’s hand was trying to rip off, the repeated scrapes inside of her, and the ropes that were all but cutting her in half. Finally Hank came inside her, finishing with three superhuman thrusts that pushed both the anvil and the wood beam, before his heavy body collapsed on her, sending a final shockwave of pain through Eosi’s body, crushing her between Hank’s imposing mass and the solid steel of the anvil.

* - *

It took a few minutes for Hank to get himself up. This orgasm was unlike anything he had ever felt before. Matching it to any past experience would be like trying to compare a simple firecracker to a thermonuclear explosion. As he pulled out, a mix of cum, pussy juice and blood were slowly oozing from her vagina. He thought there might be gush of blood from her ravaged insides but that didn’t happen. The teeth were vicious but had a low profile and ended up not cutting deeply. Snapping out of his trance, his chief concern quickly became Eosi’s wellbeing. He undid the biting ropes, releasing her abdomen and revealing serious torn skin and rope burns, similar to those on her wrists. Even where the skin was not scraped, the marks of the rope were purple. The big question was her back, her spine might have been crushed against the anvil. He passed a hand under her basin and lifted it gently, before gathering all his remaining strength and pushing the anvil out of the way. Then he carefully lowered her down to the floor. She screamed a little as he did. He checked her face, her eyes were hazy, like she was floating far away. He gave her a few vigorous slaps on the cheeks to snap her out of it. She blinked and her eyes adjusted, focusing on his face:

- “I hurt…” she simply said. 

- “I know… can you move your legs?” Hank replied.

She didn’t answer, he continued to ask the same question as he was untying the ropes around her arms. 

- “Try to move your legs,” he repeated.

- “I hurt…“ she said softly.

- “Do your legs hurt as well?” Hank tried a different approach.

- “Yes” she replied, somewhat reassuring him. 

Then, summoning all her remaining stamina, she slowly flexed her legs up, and pushing on her elbows, tried to lift her chest and head up. 

- “I got you” said Hank, as he lifted her in his arms, and started to walk towards the house.

As they were exiting the barn and a pantless Hank was carrying his partner under the stars, she murmured:

- “I love you Hank Sir.”

Hank smiled..

* - *

Back in the house, Hank realized how unprepared he was to deal with the aftermath of their session. He had no first aid kit, no disinfectant, no bandages, not stitches, nothing. He quickly found himself playing the improvised nurse, trying to carefully wash her whole striped body with soap and water, while she could barely stand in his antique bathtub. She screamed as he attempted to clean her most serious wounds at the wrists and abdomen. And his tired cock betrayed him, woken-up by her cries. He stayed focused though, and reattached the dangling skin of her right ass-cheek with carefully cut small bands of duct-tape. Then he tore strips of cloth from his bedsheets to dress her wounds. Velvet-red blood stains were seeping through the pure white of the fabric as he wrapped her rear end with the improvised bandages. And when he penetrated her with his soapy fingers to wash her wounded vagina, she cried and buried her face in his shoulder. 

He laid her in his bed, and despite all her hurt and pain she looked at him with the most loving eyes he had ever seen. She gave him a long passionate kiss. At that moment, he had to admit the thought crossed his mind to rip all of her bandages off and to ravage her once more.

She later confessed to him orgasming multiple times through her abuse in the barn. As she recounted, she had first come while he was lashing her breasts and she was gasping for air through the soaked gag. The extreme sensation on her chest, the thought of Hank completely owning her and beating on her poor body, and her mind spiraling out of control as she was fighting for a sliver of oxygen, all this combined had sent her shooting over the edge. There were several others after this. During the caning, a punishment she had fantasized for so long about, and had received in full force at the hand of her lover. 

Finally she was even shaken by a powerful climax while Hank was pounding her and ravaging her insides with the spiked sleeve. She had been exhausted to the limit of consciousness, and was receiving such overwhelming pain at the same time inside her loin and on her burning skin, and from her back impossibly bent against the anvil. Knowing she was suffering all this for the purpose of giving the ultimate pleasure to her “tuan”, the Malay word for master, had given her the ultimate climax. 

She told Hank she knew this was her rightful place in the world. That putting her fate fully in his hands, and for him to have total control over her was making her feel complete in a way she had never felt before. That’s how she thought of him while she was proving her devotion through pain for his pleasure and rage. He was no longer Hank-Sir but Master Hank.