Tales of the Rope

Chapter 19: Punishment of a Bad Girl

Chapter 19: Punishment of a Bad Girl

The whip sang a song of bittersweet revenge, hissing through the air then cracking against soft female flesh. A muffled cry of anguish echoed off the cement walls followed by a long, low moan of distress. The man holding the whip sucked in air and lifted his arm yet again. Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

The female was naked and held in place by ropes tightly tied around her limbs. Thin cord bit deeply into the flesh of her wrists and above her elbows, crushing her forearms together behind her back. A rope from the wrist bondage went up to a large metal ring firmly screwed into an overhead beam of the basement room. That rope had been pulled until the nineteen year old girl had been forced to bend forward. And then it was pulled some more, cruelly wrenching her arms upward and driving her head down. Her legs were tightly bound together at the ankles and above the knees, the thin cord so deeply into the flesh of her thighs that it almost disappeared. Those painfully tight ropes alone would have caused the girl to suffer agony but again the whip sang and again she cried out into the large rubber ball that had been forced into her mouth and strapped in place.

The girl was young but the body was full and ripe, the breasts very large and the bottom a full, curved target. Already that ass was crisscrossed with scarlet stripes slowly turning purple, blue and black shades. Her long dark hair hung around her head, hiding the tear-stained young and pretty face.

Again the whip sang and the teenage girl cried out in agony, this time almost a scream of unbearable torment.

The middle-aged man had lost count around twenty strokes, but it didn’t matter. The limit of this torture would be when his anger ran its course and his arm grew too tired to lift the whip. Again the wicked length of braided leather swished the air to deliver its venom.

Many strokes later, the whip fell from his fingers to the concrete floor and, with a deep intake of breath, the man walked from the basement room. Under the harsh light from the single, naked light bulb, the

girl sobbed out her pain and wished she could touch her burning ass.

For a few seconds the man stood at the entrance to his daughter’s bedroom. Before him was another young woman, this one slender and pretty with long blonde hair and pale blue eyes. But like the girl in the basement, she was naked and fastened with tight ropes so that she was immobile. Immobile and in pain. The girl’s arms had been bound behind her back in the same manner as the girl in the basement but with clothesline, not the thin cord. But her elbows were forced together in the same way. Her legs had also been bound together at the ankles and above the knees, again with clothesline. Another rope linked her wrist and ankle bondage, forcing the heels of her feet into the open palms of her hands. But the real discomfort had come when another rope was passed around that on her ankles and wrists and up to a metal ring freshly screwed into the ceiling over her bed. That rope had been pulled until the teenager’s arms and legs were arched high above her body, so high that her shoulders and breasts were totally off the bed, as were her knees. Only her stomach still touched the bed.

The strain she was under showed in the eyes above the rubber ball gag. For long hours she had endured the ache of a body bent backwards and almost lifted by its wrists and ankles. Her slender figure and small but pert breasts trembled from the prolonged stress, but the man made no move to loosen the cruel bondage.

“Margot is paying for her crime,” he said conversationally. The girl on the bed tried to plead with her eyes. “She will continue to pay for a long time.”

The blonde tried to shake her head but that was also ignored. He continued as if he were discussing baseball scores over breakfast. “I know you’re really a good girl. You wouldn’t have had those drugs if someone hadn’t pressured you into trying them.”

He glanced towards the bathroom where he had flushed them away a few hours before. “And I’m glad,” he continued, “that you saw fit to tell me who it was that gave you those drugs.”

He didn’t mention that it had taken a full hour of agonizing bondage in this hogtie before his daughter had blurted out the name of her girlfriend and supplier. And another half hour before she agreed to ask her dark-haired friend to come over immediately because she wanted to buy some more. After that the ball gag went into her mouth and the expected release from that painful position hadn’t come.

He used the time to soundproof the basement and gather all the ropes and cord he could find. Then he selected several thin belts to use as whips. And remembered a real whip that had been in a cardboard box for many years. He didn’t even remember where he had gotten it, but it would serve a good purpose that night. He dug around until he found it. It was made of black leather thongs with one at the end of stiff leather. It would do more than sting, especially when driven by a strong and angry male arm.

When the girl knocked on the front door, it was easy to grab her and drag her down to the basement. Quickly her arms were bound behind her back and stung up to the beam. Her clothes were ripped from that surprisingly mature body and a gag added to prevent her outcries during the coming pain.

Back in his daughter’s bedroom, the man spent a few minutes sitting on the edge of the bed, looking not at his daughter’s strained and naked body, but at her watery eyes. Finally he sighed and left the room, pausing only to turn off the lights. He ignored the tiny squeal of protest as he left.

In the basement, the girl had stopped crying. Her bottom was a battered mass of ugly colors, mostly blue, red and purple. With a little surprise, the man noted that the whip had not broken her soft skin even though he had lashed her with all his strength. But it had done a great deal of damage, and the pain must have been great.

Releasing the rope that held her arms pulled up, the man let them down. With a moan the girl slowly collapsed to the floor to lie there, a pretty package of youthful feminine curves. Taking a length of thick, white nylon rope from his box, he formed a noose with a slipknot. That he placed over the girl’s head

and cinched it down around her neck just tight enough so that she was aware of the threat. He lifted her to her feet and steadied her while he pushed her hair aside to leave her face uncovered. Then he threw the rope through the metal ring and secured the other end to a hook in a wall. The teenager girl was now standing unsupported except for the noose around her neck. She looked at him with frightened eyes, well aware of both his anger, somewhat calmed but still seething under the surface, and the fact that she would strangle herself if she lost her balance.

The belt he took was very small and slender, no wider than the whip, and stiffer. Her eyes grew wide as she saw the leather instrument in his hands. For long seconds he stood before her naked body, fire in his eyes and leather in his hand. Suddenly his arm swung and the leather snapped across the flesh of one large breast.

The girl squealed and jerked back. For a long second she teetered, her legs almost falling sideways, before she regained her balance. A small red mark was forming on the outside of one breast indicating the first target. Her eyes were wide with fear and her muffled pleas were frantic. He ignored them.

This time the leather belt was snapped, his arm darting straight towards her breast then pulling back with a snap of the wrist to make the end of the belt crack like a whip. She squealed in pain and jerked back. He took a step to the left and again the belt cracked against her defenseless flesh. This time she actually screamed into the gag and jerked her body so violently that the noose tightened down enough to cut off her air. She gasped to breathe and fought frantically to get her feet back under her.