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Scrumping part 3 *fictional erotica*

This is the final part of my little apple themed erotica project (For now, who knows, if there's enough interest I could probably expand it to a whole ebook :-P)

To start at the beginning though, click here!


 Part 3

Laura was transfixed by the sound of the apple man’s boots as they paced across the barn floor, the dust made a scratching sound as it was squeezed beneath his heels. The whip he held was short and thick, with an end like a dragon’s tongue, and it’s tip dragged along the floor as it hung from his hand.

She had stopped struggling and lay transfixed. Her ass felt even more exposed as she imagined what that whip might feel like. That thick leather strap seemed like an inevitability; more real than the ropes that held her and the barrel against her chest, more real even than the heat in her skin and the pulse throbbing in her head.

The dangling whip was the centre of her universe; her Armageddon.

All that protected her was her thin polka-dot dress…

The apple man picked up the whip and leaned over her, draping it slowly across her shoulders. Reaching down he found the hem of her dress with his hands, then he lifted, brushing her legs with his knuckles. Her dress was hoiked upwards, polka-dots and all.

The bare cheeks of her ass tasted the air and only the thin lacy white strip of her underwear was left to protect her modesty.

“This is what happens to bad girls who steal” said the apple man, almost jeering. Laura squirmed in front of him, hopelessly exposed.

He lifted the whip off her back and it’s weight was replaced with a heightened fear of its sting. Her buttocks tingled even though they had not yet been struck, and the sound of the leather swishing through the air made her whole body tense...

The first lash of the whip broke loudly across both her cheeks, and with it Laura woke into a new state of being.

A state of pain.

All this time she had been trying to imagine what the whip would feel like, but no imagining could prepare her for the reality of its sting. It broke through her mind like fire, incinerating all other thoughts and distractions. For that moment she no longer felt the coarse rope around her wrists and ankles, she forgot the hardness of the wood on which she lay exposed, and she felt no shame for the cool wetness between her legs. All she felt was the whip.

She moaned, and her teeth bit down into her apple gag, releasing it’s juices into her already drooling mouth as her limbs tensed against her ropes.

The whip struck her again. Harder.

A third time. Harder still.

It was strange how unreal everything had seemed up until that point. It was as if she had been floating above her life; that the world had all been somehow abstract and far away... It had seemed like this right up until the moment when that first strike had shattered the frosted glass between her mind and reality.

Now she bathed in a true feeling, a feeling that centuries of civilization had conspired to protect her from. It was invigorating, exhilarating, terrifying and awesome all at the same time. She wanted to be nowhere else except tied to that barrel, and yet her body instinctively rebelled against the whip. She tried to escape it’s swings by wriggling evasively from side to side…

...but the whip found her every time.

The cracking-slapping sound of hard leather on soft skin reverberated louder and louder around the barn as the apple man put more effort into each swing. Each impact left a new red imprint on her once-white peach. Though this fruit would take longer to bruise.

Red built upon red built upon red, until her whole ass glowed. And yet still the strikes continued.

“This is what happens when you take what isn’t yours” he growled.

For Laura the pain did not subside with exposure, instead it grew on itself and expanded to fill the time in between the lashes. Her cheeks still sung with the whip’s song as the cool air ran over them, tingling and smouldering as the apple man readied another swing.

Unable to evade the whip Laura had no choice but to accept it. The pain was so intense she wondered what destruction was being rended upon her... if her skin would break... and if he’d stop even then. The feel and sound of each new strike reassured her that her flesh was intact, and yet added further to her pain.

Her limbs tensed hard against the rope’s until they hurt too. As her mind finally surrendered to the agony it was as if something melted inside her and she was drenched in a strange calm. The now constant tingling in her ass spread through her whole body, but it wasn’t pain any more, it was life.

*