. . then forward . . . The first blow landed just below her nipples. The second one fell above them. The third caught her square across thenipple of her right breast, grazing the other. After that she couldn't tell anymore. She thought her arms must be dislocated at the shoulders, the way herbody was plunging and convulsing and thrashing at the end of the rope. Theropes. The one around her wrists, the one slashing mercilessly into her torturedflesh. She knew she had screamed herself hoarse, and still could not stopscreaming. And she knew the fire inside her was out of control, and that theworse the torment became, the more she was doomed to crave it, to devote herselfto it, above any other thing, for all of her life. It was her life. It was herlove. It was her soul. When he'd whipped her breasts to his satisfaction, he placed a fewlashes across her stomach, and across the front her thighs. Then he returned toher breasts for one last blow, the hardest of all. And then it was over. He. “Get her to what? You see? You don’t know where this is going.”Their plates came and they dropped the subject, but on the way home, with Delia riding passenger, she came back to it, “If I think it’s too much for me, I’ll send her away. In the meantime, it’s not all negative. We’ve got a maid.”Nathan snorted sarcastically, “A maid? She doesn’t clean up after her own self unless we get after her. I don’t want to be her fucking drill sergeant. This is on you. You keep her in line.”Delia had felt insecure about the sexual aspect to the arrangement. She was attracted to having sex with Leila, but she didn’t want her husband getting too into that.“I don’t want you fucking her,” she said.Nathan looked over at his wife, the car rolling at 67 mph on the freeway. “You made her suck my cock. What the hell? Now I can’t fuck her?”“Why would you want to,” Delia asked. “I don’t want your cock in her dirty twat. You don’t know what she might have. She’s been fucking everybody.”Nathan shook his head.
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