Trouble brewing
A growl seeped from the asshole’s throat. She enjoyed that rush of satisfaction, Aryobarzan had jerked his string. And made this prick jump. Aryobarzan was tauntingly stroking a hand over his naked ass. Telling him she owned it. Newly exposed with his covering cut away. Aryobarzan felt his tensing as her fingers stroked at the lightly haired backside.
The touch made the asshole growl, in a low warning. But her move was a reminder to her guys where their target was. Caning this prick’s ass. Four of them, all as big and muscled as the dog. Stripped now to the waist, every bit a match for the prisoner. Not that they intended to give him a fighting chance. Stood full of conceit, brimming with confidence. Eager to get on with the job. The advantage was with them. Four of them, armed with willowy canes. She’d decided on the number .. four .. so they stayed strong and fresh. Four of them .. so they could relieve each other .. catch their breath. Watch the others . get worked up for when their turn came. Staying fresh. So this asshole felt every stroke count. With brutal ferocity.
When light broke tomorrow, the dog would be back yoked to rock. This asshole would be at work next morning. That broad muscled back, the straining thighs, the groaning back would be hauling rock again. Pushed beyond his physical limits, as always. Singled out for every encouraging lash. And topping it up that ass of his on fire. Bruised .. stabbing him with every move of muscle.
Today his ass was to be the target, nothing more. And they were using nothing to cut. Just canes .. stinging canes to light a fire under him. The dog was to be hauling rock at first light. Worked till he dropped. His ass on fire the whole sweltering day.
First up, the young guard this asshole had attacked .. his handsome face marred by his swollen nose. Up he strode .. swinging his weapon. Showing off his resentment .. giving a demonstration .. a swish of willow cutting at the heavy air. Proud of himself, showing off his physique, he stopped stock-still, he held the cane above his head, a double bicep pose .. between both hands his willowy cane. He bent it, he flexed it, willing into it more smarting spring.
The dog paid these warnings no heed. Play-actor! His face remained unchanged. Surly. His eyes stayed riveted on Aryobarzan . Like pins driven into her eye-balls. Unmoved, almost unblinking. He’d felt the sting of the cane. He’d taken it daily, he acted now like it offered no fears. The eyes that drilled into Aryobarzan ’s were piercing with hatred. They were full of defiance. Telling her he was going to take it, – whatever came.
Aryobarzan sneered back. The weak-minded fool. He was going to get it .. eye-poppingly hard. At the sound of cane whooshing through the air, there was a tightening. Shoulders bulged, turned to stone. He knew what was coming all right. The screech of willow slicing up the air towards his ass.
The first strike did not disappoint. A look of shock cut across his face. A guttural grunt shot up from his ass to his throat. Had he not been expecting that much pain? Aryobarzan registered the fact, the cane had smarted more than he’d thought. Well, get you, asshole. His eyes had flashed wide, a jagged tremble visibly shook in his arms. And that was just the first strike.
Lay them on hard, those had been Aryobarzan ’s instructions. Nothing held back. Ten strikes each, then hand him over. Next guy took up the cane. Keep yourselves fresh, drink plenty of water. And give his ass hell.
The dog’s face had shuddered. Trembled. But only briefly. Aryobarzan saw he got himself back, his gaze barely wavered. Again he stared in defiance into her eyes. But she had prepared for this fight. Take it slowly, Aryobarzan had told her men, drag it out. Let him savour every strike. Let him know the full impact. Every moment of pain. Let the pain do the work. Let time work on his guts. Fearing every nerve-biting second. Give him time to get his breath between each one. Let him fool himself into thinking, he’d managed one, he’d manage some more. Then hit him with another smarting kiss.
The second whoosh stung into his ass so hard it rammed his hips forwards. At the hiss of willow through the air, he sucked in breath. Willpower pumped up his arms. Yet still the force behind the blow jerked at that carved belly .. shot him forward .. pulling at his ropes.
The pain shot tremors up his backbone. For a second, his eyes closed in the pain. Then .. just as fast – they flashed open. Locked on Aryobarzan’s. The tremble passed through his shoulders, juddered down his back. But he glared at his tormentor fiercely.
Equally defiant Aryobarzan held his look. No longer in the mood to be hypnotised by his look. Only two so far, dickhead. Two blows. Your mind beginning to see what you’re up against? This was a battle of minds as much as the pain targeted on his ass.
The air was again cut open by a hissing sound. The third smarting slap rang like triumph in Aryobarzan’s ears. A loud snap of cane, the muffled grunt of pain. Pain that sliced up from his ass until he barely strangled it in his throat. He jerked hard. Aryobarzan noted his manhood leap up in shock, his back thrown into long hard tremor. But still the dog had managed to force back down the cries of his pain. But what was the hurry? Plenty more where that came from.
His breathing was accelerating with each blow. With each stinging slap burning painfully into his bare ass, he panted faster, harder. As ordered, the guard waited till his back settled into a normal breathing pattern. And then he let rip.
Losing herself in the scene, Aryobarzan watched the transformation. His face twisted with the cutting pain into his flesh. His eyes shot closed, his neck spasmed into rapid shudders. Aryobarzan caught the effort as he throttled his pain in his gullet.
And then, defiant to the last, his eyes shot open, snorting hard through his nose, breathing fast to recover. Teeth closed, snorting fast through his teeth.
His gaze turned on his tormentor, the fury in his eyes burst. Fighting to gain strength from that hate. Aryobarzan could only smile. You’re hurting, motherfucker …!
Aryobarzan moved to survey his backside when the guards changed over. Glowing, angry red welts pock-marked the strong muscled globes. Itching to approach, touch and wallow in the heat. But there was plenty of time. Hours and hours if necessary. Until the dog was beaten. Till he grovelled and pleaded for it to stop.
And still his eyes were on Aryobarzan, following her around. Still defying. So what? Let the prick delude himself into believing he could challenge. Pretend to himself Aryobarzan would eventually realise this was a man who could take all this. And more. Think again, asshole. What a dick!
As indeed, he would .. take it, bite on it, eat it .. eat pain. You will, sucker, .. you’ll suffer it. He’d take it all right .. take it till he could take no more.
The change-over guard had chosen a longer more pliant switch. Full of whiplash, full of sting. Intended to smart more than to punch. Make the asshole yelp .. like a hurt puppy sounding sorry for itself. Stinging on top of an ass already prickling with burning hurt. With the enthusiasm of a beginner, the guard primed his body for the attack. Intent on matching the earlier guard. He warmed up his arm, swinging it in circles. High-pitched whistles as the switch swung warned the prisoner. Tensed him, prepared him.
The sharp look on the asshole’s face gave Aryobarzan a strong whiff of success. Shock. The first fresh strike. A blistering sting. A fresh guard .. a renewed attack. Hitting with a dozen wasp bites. A fiery white-hot bolt of lightning exploded on his ass. The prisoner’s eyes shot open. His mouth spasmed in soundless cry. Every muscle in the broad back shuddered. Like wildfire with his pain.
Aryobarzan smirked at him. He’d known the lash at the yoke, he thought he knew pain. But the dog just had to realise there was more. Much more. Much much more. Infinitely more.
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