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Rhianna lay in the attic for hours. Her back began to ache fiercely, adding to the gradually diminishing but still potent pain fro her ass. But her physical anguish was nothing compared to her mental one. Her sense of horror grew as the endless afternoon dragged on. At the very best she was going to be beaten again. At the worst… She tried to check her imagination but, starved of distraction, it ran freely. It was still hard to believe all this was real. The day had begun as normal. A few hours ago she was coming to work like normal. Not that long ago she had been exploiting her power over one of her subordinates. Now her power was gone. And she was gagged and tied to a bed like a hostage. She silently cursed those who had put her in this predicament. David and Peter, obviously, but most of all Kirti. Kirti, who encouraged her to take the risks and break the rules. By the end of the afternoon she was almost hating her boss and hoping she was suffering just as much.
Finally the door opened again. For a second she was relieved that her hours of imprisonment were at an end. Then her terror came flooding back again. But the figure who entered was not the one she had expected. It was a small, slim Chinese girl in heavy bondage gear. Tiny breasts peeping over a tight black leather corset, pussy exposed, fishnet tights, tall, black leather high-heeled boots. Rhianna stared up in amazement at Mei. The girl, normally so chaste and demure – at least not when being unwillingly fucked by her bosses – had been transformed into an S&M queen. Mei ignored the stare and clumsily untied the ropes from the bed. When they were finally free she helped her supervisor up.
“You’re to come downstairs,” she mumbled. “They sent me to get you.”
Rhianna followed her awkwardly, for her arms and legs were still fastened together. When not concentrating on avoiding facing over, her mind was racing. Had Peter and David being fucking the sisters too? Was that how they had found out about her and Kirti? She wished she was not gagged so she could interrogate Mei. It was too late, however. And when she finally got to the back room of the house, all other thoughts fled from her mind.
Lao was also wearing the fishnets and high heeled boots combination. Her plump belly was allowed to hang free but tight leather straps circled her breasts, pushing them upwards. Peter and David were both there and greeted Rhianna with mock courtesy. But the black woman was chiefly focussing on the object in the centre of the room. It looked like a vaulting horse from a gym, diagonal legs supporting a broad cushioned seat at waist height. A whipping stool, Rhianna thought instantly. And a woman was lying on it. Her wrists and ankles were each tied to one of the legs so that her long, slender limbs were fixed far apart. Her groin and waist rested on the seat. The upper half of her body tumbled down the horse while her pale brown buttocks stuck up in the air. Rhianna looked at the upside-down face, its long black hair splaying across the ground. It was Kirti.
“Rhianna!” Peter was calling. “So good of you to join us. We’re close to getting started. Pop over there, will you? Dave, do the honours please.”
The black woman shuffled to where he had indicated. She noticed a line of leather cuffs lying on the floor. They were tied to a strange winching device fixed to one wall. David freed her arms and legs, then fixed two of the cuffs to her ankles. He started to turn the handle of the winch. Rhianna felt the cuffs rise, pulling at her legs. She hastily dropped into a crouch to stop herself unbalancing. The cuffs kept tugging until, with a sudden jump, pulled her legs off the floor. Slowly, inexorably, her body was turned upside down. For one moment she was balancing only on her hands. Then she lost her hold of that too. the cuffs moved upwards almost to the ceiling. Rhianna was left suspended helplessly, her flapping arms half a foot from the ground, her ponytail dangling free.
“A miracle of engineering, this is,” David sneered as he bound her hands together again. “Lets me lift even a fat heffer like you up without too much trouble. All right, girls, get her undressed.
Mei and Lao obediently approached, each holding a pair of scissors. As Mei snipped through Rhianna’s blouse, Lao stood on a chair and attacked her trousers. Rhianna guessed Kirti had been undressed in the same fashion; she saw the remnants of a business suit lying on the floor. Her tattered garments were soon sliced in half and pulled off her. Then her knickers and bra were disposed of with twangs of elastic and her large breasts lolled free. She hung there naked, a ridiculous and ugly figure watched with scorn by Peter and David. A few tears of humiliation stole from her eyes and ran down her brow. She had become a lesbian five years ago, vowing to never again be seen naked by another man. Now here she was, strung up for their contemptuous examination.
“Christ, nigger,” David remarked. “One word: diet.”
Mei and Lao were ordered to stand in separate corners of the room with their hands on their heads. They were fitted with ball gags. Watching them as she dangled, Rhianna wondered again about their status. Were they willing acolytes or prisoners as well? They obeyed the men’s instructions with a subdued, defeated air but they did everyone’s. Rhianna’s attention, though, was mainly fixed on Kirti. Her head was almost level with that of her boss. She could clearly see the wide, terrified eyes and her open, panting mouth. Kirti must have known what was about to happen to her. Two canes were ostentatiously propped up against the whipping stool. Rhianna no longer hated her boss but she could do nothing, say nothing to comfort her. She had a thought which made her quiver with fear, sending her breasts swinging. After Kirti, she would be next.
Kirti’s face suddenly contorted with agony. Her eyes screwed up, her brows locked, deep furrows appeared on her forehead. And her mouth opened wider to emit a piercing scream. A split-second earlier there had been another crack of a solid object hitting skin, this one sharper than in the office. As Rhianna studied Kirti’s face, Peter had picked up a cane and brought it down across her ass. A few seconds later, David gave the Indian woman a taste of the other. Then Peter laid his second stroke, almost exactly on the site of his first. Rhianna helplessly watched the methodical, merciless chastisement of her boss. The two men worked with perfect synchronicity. They struck alternately, leaving no more than five seconds between each blow. Peter was left handed, David right, so they could stand on either side of their target and swing with their full force. In other circumstances it would have been an impressive display of team work. But the willow was biting into the woman’s flesh, scoring a deep grove as it cut in. When lifted again and the groove flattened out, a long red line rose in its place. The weals were vivid enough to be visible even on skin already flushed red. Rhianna watched as ten, then twenty, rose on the once-beige cheeks, gradually meeting and criss-crossing. Kirti’s screams were almost deafening. She was clearly unable to cope with the force or the speed of the strokes. Her mouth was a wide, echoing chasm, spittle sometimes flying from it. Snot was being blown from her nose, meeting with the tears squeezing from her tightly screwed eyes. Her long hair brushed the ground as her head swung back and forth. In the only other movements she was capable of, her muscles twitched violently and her fingers opened and clenched. In the few breaks between her screams she babbled a nonsensical stream of words. Rhianna could only watch in horror as the proud Indian woman was reduced to a mindless creature.
Finally the beating paused. Rhianna’s dread only increased as the two men turned to her. While Kirti started moaning in agony, Peter clicked his fingers at the two Chinese girls and handed them something. When they approached, Rhianna saw the objects were steel clamps. Small springs with cruel teeth, rings and ropes on the other side. Mei and Lao reached up and each attached a clamp onto Rhianna’s nipples. She gasped as two lances of pain ran from her breasts and through her body. They quickly built to a point which became almost unbearable, before receding just a little. Looking up through the tears blurring her eyes, she saw her chocolate buds being crushed by the savage grips. She didn’t notice that the ropes had hooks attached to them, or that Mei and Lao were preparing to fix weights onto them. But she soon felt the facts. The bite of the clamps increased again and an ache started at the base of her breasts.
“No,” she whined. “Please… please don’t… please.” To no avail, of course. Three more weights were added to each rope. They ended up hanging down below Rhianna’s head. Meanwhile her large breasts were stretched to their very limit, almost coming down to her chin. Her breaths came out in rapid pants as she tried coping with the excruciating sensation. The clamps were digging in tighter than ever. It felt as if the teeth had bitten right through her nipples and were meeting one another. And the aching from her breasts had grown and was becoming intense. She shook a little with the pain. The weights swung and the pain grew a little more. She blinked, trying to cope with the ordeal, trying not to move. When she opened her eyes, she saw Peter and David laughing at the bizarre spectacle she had become. Then they turned their attention back to Kirti.
The Indian woman’s ass was by now a mass of different shades of red. So perhaps for variety, the men started to work on her thighs instead. The canes bit viciously into the slender limbs. Kirti had almost no fat there to protect her; it must have hurt as much as when her hyper-sensitive cheeks were being caned. She certainly screamed as loudly. Taking one thigh each, the men worked as methodically as before. They beat their way down to the joints of Kirti’s knees, then moved back up to her ass. Soon ten raised weals were decorating each of the pale brown thighs. Peter again beckoned to the Chinese sisters. The canes were passed to them and an order issued. For a few moments they looked dumbfounded, holding the canes awkwardly. Finally Mei swung hers. It was a clumsy blow and only lightly bounced off Kirti’s cheeks. The manageress felt it though – at that stage, a breath of air on her skin would have hurt her. Lao swung and landed a stroke with a little more force. By chance it landed across two existing weals and Kirti yelped out loud. Mei struck again, then Lao, and each successive blow lost a little more hesitancy and gained a little more power. Soon the girls were beating their boss with real malice. They didn’t have the rhythm or the brute power of Peter or David. But they were hurting Kirti. And they were enjoying themselves. Their faces were rapturous as they swung their canes, and had it not been for their gags they would probably have laughed out loud.
It was too much for Rhianna. Despite the agony from her breasts, she never forgot that Kirti was experiencing far worst – and that she would be next. Her terror made her lose the last shreds of her self-control. She shot out stream of piss, which ran down her rotund belly and between her unnaturally stretched breasts. To her shame, Peter and David spotted it. They laughed again as the river ran down her chin and into her hair.
“I think that’s enough anticipation,” Peter said, still laughing. He motioned for the Chinese girls to stop their punishment, which they did reluctantly. Kirti, now emitting a low moan broken into by the occasional gasping sob, was untied from the whipping stool. She didn’t move. Peter had to lift her up and throw her off. She dropped into a heap on the floor, crying loudly. Meanwhile David was lowering Rhianna. Her terror built every time the ground grew closer. When she was untied, her will broke completely. She fell onto the floor, determined not to be tied to the dreadful stool.
“Lack of balls from the fat girl,” Peter smiled at David. They grabbed an arm each and, with a grunt of effort, hauled her up. “Come on, nigger,” Peter continued as they dragged her towards the stool, heedless of her scrams. “It won’t be so bad. You’ve got enough padding down there.”
Rhianna was thrown over the whipping stool. David held her thrashing limbs in place while Peter tied them tight. When the black woman was secured and helpless, David put Kirti in the leg straps and winched her up. Soon she too was hanging from the ceiling, forced to watch the punishment of a friend. Rhianna subsided when she realised the futility of her struggle. There was no escape. Tears began rolling down her face again and she let out little whimpers of terror. She was also panting, finding it difficult to breath in her position across the stool. Soon, though, all such trivial considerations would be put out of her mind.
The first stroke seemed to come from nowhere. Rhianna screamed at the top of her voice as it connected. The soreness of the afternoon’s beating was instantly re-ignited, together with a line of more intense fire left by the cane. A second quickly followed, then a third. Each one sent a bolt of shock and agony coursing through her body. Even after that had stilled, her ass felt like it was being burnt. The fourth and fifth strokes landed. As she watched Kirti being beaten Rhianna had imagined what it must feel like. But it was worst than anything she could have dreamt of. The line of the first stroke still throbbed unbearably; and more kept landing and multiplying. Rhianna wailed, she hollered, she thrashed her head from side to side. Her arms strained at the bonds as she sought an outlet for the pain. But she could find none. And the canes kept landing. Eight, nine, ten… on they came, each stroke worst than the last, each joining the cluster of fire which was never dying out. Again, at first she was counting the strokes, unconsciously logging each time the room echoed of the crack against her skin and a new bolt of agony surged through her. After around twenty, though, even this simplest of feats was beyond her. And by that time it didn’t matter. The strokes all gradually merged into one. The shock of the willow landing died away. The agony become so great and so constant that she was barely aware whenever it was increased. The fire became steady and all-consuming. She forgot about everything else; being tied to the whipping stool, her friend hanging from the ceiling, even who was beating her and why. None of these were important compared to the fire. She was dimly aware of the agony increasing a little more when Peter and David turned their attention to her thighs. And she registered the time when Mei and Lao were again invited to give her their less brutal ministrations. Each, though, were only slight rises or falls of her suffering. Even when the caning finally stopped, Rhianna barely noticed. It made little difference at first. And when she was untied from the stool, like Kirti she dropped straight to the floor beside it.
After a while she became aware of Peter’s harsh words. He was addressing the two Chinese girls. They were backed into one corner and suddenly looking less assured than they had when holding the canes.
“…not so innocent as you first appear,” Peter was declaring in a stern voice. “I’ve realised you’re not so much the victims in all this. In fact, I’ve found out you’re the willing co-conspirators of these women. I mean in everything. Their fraud as well as their pleasures.”
The girls were looking terrified now. They tried to argue but the gags turned their words into incoherent grunts. As Peter continued, Rhianna emerged far enough from her misery to feel some black humour. Presumably the sisters had been lured here and persuaded to adopt their costumes by promises of advancement. Maybe the chance for revenge against their old tormentors too. Now they were discovering that the men had perverted plans for them as well.
“Rhianna, Kirti?” Peter said, turning round. “Did these girls willingly co-operate in your fraud.”
The two women glanced at each other. For just a second their old connection was restored. They both remembered how Mei and Lao had beaten them; under orders, admittedly, but willingly enough. And they shared a sadistic need not to be the only ones to suffer. In voices hoarse from screaming, they agreed.
Mei and Lao tried to bolt at the same time but to no avail. The men caught one each in their arms. David dragged the writhing Mei to the winching machine, lowered the straps again and encased the girl’s ankles in two of them. Rhianna was also pulled over and fastened in two more. The handle was pulled once more. Rhianna, Mei and Kirti were hung in a line from the ceiling. The men strapped Lao to the whipping stool and it began again. Rhianna watched with a mixture of relish and resentment at first. She wanted the sisters to suffer as much as she had. When the men had finished with Lao, though, only twenty weals at the most were covering her broad buttocks. And she hadn’t had to endure the extra punishment that afternoon either. Lao was weeping copiously as she was unstrapped – her gag had been removed for the caning – and Rhianna thought her rather weak. But when Mei swapped places with her sister, the black woman’s feelings turned to pity. There was no denying the agony which the duel caning was inflicting. David and Peter were not restricting their strokes in force, merely in numbers. The scene was still shockingly brutal. Two grown men beating a helpless girl as hard as they could. Without her sister’s padding on her slender cheeks, Mei’s suffering was even worst. She squealed like a wounded animal each time the willow hit and she could barely stand up after she was untied.
She did not have to for long. She too was hung back from the ceiling after her beating. Flexing their muscles and rubbing their shoulders, the two men gazed at the miserable, upside-down faces.
“And excellent session,” Peter smiled. “I think a few more like this and we’ll be fully warmed up. Then your training can begin.”
Rhianna should have felt more horror on hearing his words. But she was still too full of pain and hatred to be aware of much else. Besides, she had almost expected it. Peter and David had them under their power. And they were brutal, inhuman sadists. They weren’t just going to just beat them twice and then let them go. The punishment was going to go on and on. Hanging helplessly from their bonds, whimpering and sobbing, the four women wondered how they would find the strength to endure it.
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