45. Have him!

Time is up

Whip him!  Whip him within an inch of his life!  That thought flashed through her brain.  Like a crack of lightning, she realised it.  That’s what he needed.  Whipped within an inch of his life!

Absent-mindedly, her thoughts on the damage from that fool of a guard, Mortensen and her future plans, she had a guard slice his feet free, he had slumped to his knees  ..  draped off the upright.  Ready to release him.  Concerned if she’d get him back to strength before Mortensen Jr sent that doom-laden message calling Logan back, she’d lifted his head by the hair.  Distracted her fingernail scratched away a clump of hair off his cheek.
And then the fucker had nearly bit off her hand.

Whip the fucker!  If that was what it took…!  Shocked she whipped her hand away.  In panic she stepped back, fleeing.  Taken unawares  ..  shaken by the ferocity of his eyes.  Looking into the fury of a netted wild cat.  Inches away the fangs of a slobbering mad dog.  Her heart was in her mouth.
Whip this fucker into shape.  She’d been about to call on the guards again.  To really whip him into shape.  Whip this wilfulness out of him.  Another fifty lashes.

But then she caught myself.  She looked around.  Other guards had joined, quite a crowd.  Come to watch.  It was the end of the day, the sun nearly set.  Other guards had finished their duties.  With the scumbags safely penned away for the night, they’d wandered over to enjoy the sight of this asshole Logan getting worked over.

There was more than one way to whip a dog.  She thought with a smirk  ..  more than one way to skin a cat.  This was a valuable piece-of-shit.  Mortensen’s presence hung over this place  ..  placing limitations on how far she could go.  Whip the spirit out of this dog, eh?  Couldn’t do it.  Couldn’t risk it.  More than one way to whip this dog into shape, though.

She saw this sucker through their eyes.  The guards saw him vulnerable and beaten, on his knees tied to the stake.  Centre-stage  ..  his red-flaring ass  ..  like a beacon to them  ..  a lighthouse beckoning them in.
Every one of them had put up his bad temper.  Not one of them had not struck at his cockiness.  Every one of them wanted no more than to see him tamed  ..  hear him beg  ..  scream.  Not one would not burn to have a share in having him put down.
Well  ..   why not?  More than one way to whip a dog into shape.

They could have him.  Her boot tapped taunting at his burning ass.  A growl of warning seeped from his lips.  Futile but now she welcomed that sound of his growled resistance.  A warm glow tickled between the legs at this re-kindling of that fire.  That rebellious spirit somehow still burning live.  He’d soon learn, though.
His ass sweated and hot.  The hair there lay matted and flat.  The toe of her boot finger poked through the sweat in his ass crack.  She looked at the guards watching, she gave them her nod.  They could have him.
She saw one wet his lip.

His ass-crack tightened at the touch of her boot at his rear entrance.  As if he was reading her thoughts.  She looked back at the guards.  Eyes were riveted on her foot poking at his asshole.  She read their faces.  They were getting the picture.  Signalling, signposting.  She nodded, they could have his ass.

She turned away.  Without a word.  Without a backwards glance.  She left the prisoner to their vicious devices.  The evening’s entertainment.  With her compliments.  Her treat.
Oh, she would have loved to have been around when the first one stretched him open.  When a guard’s calloused hands dug at his crack and prised him apart.  When his asshole felt the first touch of a guard’s solid cock.  She would have loved to have been around to hear his futile roars, to get off on his helpless rage.  Loved to have heard his fury at his impotence to stop them.  When the first vengeful cock ploughed up his burning ass.

A night of throbbing manhood.  Solid, vengeful, enraged by his defiance.  Blood racing with lust at his helplessness.  She would have loved to have stayed around while his rage slowly crumpled.  Rage turning to pain.  Pain of shame.  A searing physical pain rammed repeatedly up his ass.  From each guard.  She’d loved to have watched.  Instead she’d send over some booze.  Make a night of it, guys.
Pain laced with his tears.  Tears at this monstrous indignity.  Tears of helplessness.  Shamed by a dozen cocks rammed up his ass.  No need to stop at only once, guys!  Mortified at his inability to stop this degradation.  His wilfulness turning him into the guards’ whore.  His muscled ass made unpaid whore meat.
More than one way to skin a cat.

Hissing at the searing pain, sobbing as more and more heaving cocks scraped him raw, red stinging-raw.  Bleeding raw.  The strength in his muscle-layered arms useless.  His power-laden back tense with burning pain.  His defiance impotently scraped raw, seared red-raw, his own wilfulness rammed up his screeching ass.

Again and again.  Till they heard him whimper   ..  dreading the touch of another solid cockhead pressing against his bleeding asshole  ..  till they heard him beg.  They’d laugh.  Mock him, taunt his impotence.  Stinging-sore inside from a barrage of indifferent cocks.  Man-seed seeping freely out of his hole  ..  mates’ mixed jizz easing in the next shame-laden assault that forced its way in.  His flesh inside red-raw, skinned, bleeding.  Sending screaming shudders of pain through his every nerve.  And who gave a shit for his cries?  Invaded again and again.  Shamefully impaling him to the root.  His shrieking ass rammed and forced.  Defenceless against huge veined man-hoods of pitiless cruelty.

She would have loved to have stayed.  Watched.  Listened.  The screeching spectacle of a hideous animalistic rape scraping raw his once defiant arrogant will.  But this was men’s work.  Raping this wilfulness into shape  ..  men understood this best.
So she turned away.  Glad she’d remembered  ..  more than one way to whip a dog into shape.





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Facing duress with guts

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