What's in a Name?

Katharine picked her name after the cane. The one she craves when her body needs breaking. She wants the sting, the thud, every cruel kiss across her skin. So we give it to her without mercy. She starts with her wrists cinched above her head. Heavy leather swings first, thick falls pounding her tits and belly. Then the cat-o-nine lashes down, nine tails clawing her chest raw. Fists follow. Hard, fast punches to her stomach that double her forward and leave her gasping. She stays upright only because the rope keeps her there. When the cane finally arrives it draws real screams, thin red lines crossing her ribs and belly. We don’t stop until her thighs shake and she comes loud, body jerking against the cuffs. Next they bend her backward over a padded rail, wrists and ankles locked wide. Her spine bows hard. Cane strokes rain down across the stretched muscles of her belly and the tops of her thighs. Each one lands with a sharp crack that makes her lips curl into something halfway between pain and bliss. When her voice finally breaks, they slide a thick cock into her cunt and fuck her right there, helpless, arched, still striped from the cane. She comes again, cunt pulsing, drool sliding from the corner of her mouth. Last position leaves her nothing to hide behind. Ankles and wrists chained to the floor so every inch of her is open. Bruises already bloom purple beneath the fresh welts. The cane revisits every marked patch until her skin is a lattice of raised lines. Only then do they push her over the edge one more time, vibrator held tight to her clit while the welts throb and she shakes apart.