Sorry The Ending

He pushed her onto the bed and kissed her deeply. While she was distracted kissing him, he worked her shirt up her body. He groped her breasts roughly pulling her nipples.

She moaned into his mouth and arched her hips into him. "More," she muttered.

He stopped playing with her and pushed her hips down. Then he pulled back from her. "Stay."

She looked at him, her hands raised, arms framing her head. The shirt at her elbows holding them captive.

He disappeared from view. She closed her eyes, biting her bruised lips. Her breasts ached for more of the rough pleasure he had tormented them with. moments before.

She felt him climb back on the bed. She didn't bother opening her eyes. She waited quietly to feel what he was going to do next to her. Stupid word that "sorry" business. She was always saying sorry for something and he was always telling her to stop. But she never listened. And only occasionally did she pay for it.

He kissed her again, one hand twisting her wrists until they were crossed. She opened her eyes slightly and looked at him. Super close up, as he was biting her bottom lip.

She winced and pulled back. He let go slightly and kissed her again. She felt the rope wrap around her wrists, around and around. He stopped kissing her and pulled back to tie the loops he had made.

Standing up, he surveyed his handiwork. She judged from his smile that he was pleased with himself. She smiled back, her body trembling as she waited for his next move.

He pulled off her skirt, running his hands down her leg. He rubbed her pussy between her legs until she moaned and moved her hips against him.

"Now, I think we are ready."

She didn't say anything. She watched him cross the room and open the closet. He put the small suede flogger, bamboo cane, and the cat. The last implement he laid on her made her tremble.

He sat down beside her and fingered each as he watched her. She was chewed her bottom lip, trying to judge what he had planned.

Finally, seemingly hours later, he put the cat and cane to the side. He held the flogger above her, twisting it in his hands.

She swallowed hard and tensed her body, waiting.

Finally he brought the lashes down against her thigh, enough to sting, enough to make her wince a little. He hit her again and again, a little harder each time, making her wince. Up and down her thighs, until she was reddened a little all over her thighs.

Warmed up, she noted, shifting her body position.

She closed her eyes momentarily to keep them from drying up. She was pretty sure she hadn't closed them through the whole process. While she had them closed he brought the whip down against her breasts, over her nipples. She cried out, as her body convulsed and her eyes flew open.

He was smiling. She met his eyes, they danced with hers, as he brought it down again over her, with similar result.

"Count," he instructed.

The first five were easy to get out. Seven through ten left her gasping between hits. And by the time he was at twenty she was shouting the numbers and panting.

He put the flogger down on the bed and sat beside her. He stroked her lashed breasts, and she winced and tried to turn away from him.

He pulled her back and stroked her hair.

"I am."

"You are?"

"Sorry. Mostly."

He shook his head. "I think it's better if you didn't talk. You'll just incriminate yourself again." He picked up the flogger and rolled it against her stomach.