Pandora

Pandora's wrists are lashed tight behind her back. The cord bites into her skin each time she tugs. A fat rubber ball stretches her mouth wide, forcing her jaw open until the leather straps bite the corners. Saliva gathers at the edges, drips down her chin. She is bent over the foot of the bed, stomach flat to the mattress, ass up, ankles crossed and tied to the bed frame so every kick only jerks her harder against the rope. Her black hair falls across her face, sticking to the sweat that already shines on her shoulders. She knows what comes next. The first strike lands across the soft swell of her ass. The crack echoes off the walls. Her body jumps, rope creaking, but there is nowhere to go. Another slap follows, harder. Heat blooms across her skin, spreading in sharp red lines. She moans around the gag, muffled and wet, trying to press back for more even as she flinches. The punishment is slow, deliberate. Each smack timed to make her gasp, make the muscles in her thighs tremble. Her hips rock in small desperate circles, cunt slick and open in the air. The next blow lands exactly on the same welt, doubling the sting. Pandora's shoulders shake. Tears streak the corners of her eyes but she pushes her ass higher, inviting the next strike. Every lash lands with a wet, meaty sound. Every cry is swallowed by the ball crammed in her mouth. She is bound, marked, dripping, and still she strains forward for whatever comes next.