Liza continued to delude herself into thinking she had some sort of choice in the events about to unfold.
The men approached her. She saw victory on each of their faces yet couldn’t understand the implications for her.
“Enough! Fine. I played the game and you caught me off guard. This is done. Let me go.” Her voice sounded so firm in her own mind, she was certain they would be swayed.
“Baby, this isn’t a game.” Mr. Leash crooned from behind her. “Do you really think you are here because of your choosing?”
The mindfuck had begun. Liza started to wonder if her plan had gone awry or if there had been an entirely different plant in the making, altogether. *They didn’t know. They **couldn’t** know* she insisted to herself.
“Clay in the hands of a sculptor” Mr. Milton entoned.
Frantically she grasped for the sequence of events. *They were surprised to see me, weren’t they?* Liza was second guessing everything that had happened up to that point.
The men caressed her, in front and behind. Hands everywhere. She closed her eyes.
She felt the cold steel against her skin. What little warmth her remaining garments had provided was gone. Cut away. It wasn’t the thought of her expensive costuming that brought a few tears to her eyes. It was the exposure. Fully and completely, she was secured and bound; completely available to the whims of her victims who had become her captors.
Liza attempted to pull her legs together, but it was pointless. Her ankles were pulled tightly. All attempts are modesty were torn from her. She was open. Her breasts were hanging in front of her. Her legs and arms extended beyond the point of being useful to her. How could she regain control of the situation?
“You can’t” Mr. Leash breathed into her ear. “Baby, you are so far gone, you can’t even admit it to yourself.” He had read her mind. He was in her thoughts.
“Red? Are you with me?” Mr. Milton’s voice jolted her eyes open as he grasped and squoze her breast.
She stared at him but couldn’t answer. He leaned forward. His lips so close to hers she could feel his breath. She couldn’t move. She could blink. She stared at him and waited for the assault on her mouth. It didn’t come.
Mr. Milton moved his hand to the back of her neck and pulled her close to him. Behind her, Mr. Leash encircled her waist and pulled her ass against his erection. She didn’t pull away or press toward. She was .... trapped.
“Breathe, baby, breathe.” Mr. Leash whispered into her ear.
Liza exhaled and inhaled twice. Her world began to spin.
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Liza shivered at the sudden retreat of Mr. Leash and Mr. Milton. The cool air on her skin was a short reprieve.
Each man chose a flogger from the display on the east wall.
Nothing they did next was in unison.
Mr. Leash started on her upper back, then her thighs. It was almost as if he intentionally avoided her ass. The blows came in varying intensity.
Mr. Milton worked her over from the front. He struck her nipples over and over again. Her cries for relief hung in the air, ignored, or so she thought.
Mr. Milton leaned into her again. His hand stroked her tender breasts and slid down to her center, never entering, just teasing ... feeling. “Cry, Red. Scream. Cry. Beg for mercy. We won’t stop you.”
“Bastard!” Liza yelled. “Fuck you. Fuck him. Fuck you both!”
Wrong answer!
Mr. Milton grasped her hair and pulled her head back sharply. Mr. Leash stopped his flogging, reached around and grabbed her pussy with his right hand.
“Not smart, baby” Mr. Leash chastised as he slid his fingers up her slit and grasped her clit.
“Not smart at all, Red” Mr. Milton agreed and bit her breast hard.
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