wrapped around her shins and lower back, completing the strict ball tie. Preston stepped back and looked at her.
“Okay,” he said. “You can scream now.'
Sharae did scream, though not as loudly as she might have. The ropes binding her were too constricting, but it was loud enough to wake Angel.
The slave girl sat up too quickly, disorientating herself. She looked around blankly then focused on Preston and Sharae. Her jaw fell.
“Angel,” Preston said coldly.
“Master!” she cried, getting to her feet. “I–I was just-'
He held up a hand and Angel fell silent. “I'm very disappointed in you, Angel.'
She bowed her head. “Yes, Master.'
“What do you have to say for yourself?” His brown eyes bore into her.
“I've been naughty, Sir. I need to be punished.'
Preston nodded, pleased with her response. He took her by the arm and led her to the center of the room between two poles. She obediently stepped up onto the homemade step about two feet off the floor.
He used a crank on one pole to lower a set of cuffs that were attached to the tops of the poles. He took her wrists and locked them into the padded cuffs, then turned the crank, slowly, deliberately, raising Angel's arms up above her head and spread wide. He stopped when she was on her tiptoes. Her face was contorted in concentration as she balanced herself. He gave the crank one more turn and locked it in place.
He tied a length of rope to each of her ankles, then threaded the left rope through an eyebolt at the base of the pole on the side. Pulling on the rope, he forced her foot off the step. He did the same to her right. When he was finished, his slavegirl hung in a suspended spread-eagle, her muscular body spread taut.
Preston next retrieved a gag. Angel was distressed to see he'd chosen an inflatable gag. She whimpered and writhed in midair.
Preston pushed the gag into her mouth and tightly buckled it. He pumped up the gag until it filled her whole mouth. He knew she hated it.
Leaving her dangling and mewling, he went to the cabinet and selected a riding crop. He looked at Sharae and smiled. “Wonder why I haven't gagged you yet?'
Sharae tried to shrug but it looked more like a nervous twitch.
He grinned at her. “Tell me, Slave Sharae. Where shall I begin?” He slapped the crop against his palm.
Sharae shook her head, fearfully. She was already in enough pain. She didn't want to be whipped too! Then she realized she wasn't his intended recipient-Angel was.
“Well?” he prompted. “Tell me where to whip her.'
Sharae understood he wanted her to partake in Angel's punishment; he wanted her to stoop to his level.
CHAPTER 11
Preston waited impatiently for Sharae to respond. After a moment, he slammed the riding crop on the table next to the bound woman's face. She screeched and pulled her head back.
“Let's go, bitch! The next one won't miss.'
“Please, don't make me do this,” pleaded Sharae. “It's as if I'm beating her myself.'
Preston patted Sharae's head. “You don't understand. Angel knows she's been bad and she wants to be punished. She needs it. You heard her ask for it.'
“I don't know… I… I-'
Smack! Smack! Smack! The riding crop landed forcefully on Sharae's exposed bottom. “Every second you hesitate means more for Angel, and more for you. I've got all day.'
Sharae looked at Angel's tightly stretched, straining body. She didn't want to be part of her punishment, but she realized the longer she waited, the longer Angel would have to endure that painful bondage.
Smack! Smack! Smack! Again Preston let fly a barrage of blows. “Oww!” cried Sharae. “Okay, okay! I'll do it. Hit her, um, on the ass.'
Smiling, Preston approached Angel. “Which cheek?'
Sharae rolled her eyes. “The… left one.'
“How many strokes?'
“Five… I guess.'
“Good. We'll start with five on the left cheek.” The five strokes landed hard. From Angel's gasps, Sharae could tell they hurt. Preston waited after each for Angel to count it off. After the fifth, she added something. It took a moment to register with Sharae due to the gag, but she understood Angel to say, “Thank you, Master. More, please.'
Grinning, Preston turned to Sharae again. “You heard her. She wants more. What's your choice.'
“How about five more on the right cheek?'
Preston frowned. “Pick another spot. Someplace in front.'
Sharae swallowed nervously. “Maybe… her right breast? Six strokes.'
Preston smiled pleasantly. “Very good, Slave Sharae. You see, this isn't so difficult.” Soon the six strokes fell upon Angel's breast. She moaned in pain, counting each stroke as she had before, and again, asked for more.
The process repeated over and over. Angel was beaten on both breasts, and ass cheeks. She felt the sting of the crop on her back, her belly, and her thighs. Finally, Preston announced the punishment was almost over. “One more spot, Sharae, but it must be someplace that has yet to taste the crop.'
Sharae stared at Angel, uncertain what to do. Hadn't he already hit every spot on her body? She tried to think what Preston might be after. She just wanted this to be over with.
Suddenly a thought came to her. She didn't know where it came from, but she felt it was the “right” answer. It sent a shiver through her. She looked up at Preston and said deliberately, “The last… five strokes should be on her… pussy.'
Preston smiled. “Excellent. You're learning the art of punishing a girl quite well.'
Sharae hung her head, unable to watch. But she couldn't help hearing as the strokes found their mark on Angel's most sensitive place. She could tell Preston wasn't holding back either, as Angel cried pitifully after each one, barely able to mumble the count.
After the final blow, Angel thanked her Master, but she did not ask for more. Instead, she raised her voice, saying the gagged equivalent of, “Thank you too, Slave Sharae.'
Sharae sagged in shame at the realization of what she'd been a party to. She watched as Preston released Angel from her suspension and removed her gag. The slavegirl tried to press herself into his arms, but he held her off.
“No hugs for you now,” he scolded. “What you did today wasn't just playful naughtiness. If Sharae hadn't fallen asleep, if she had escaped, we could be on our way to jail right now. Now, go kneel in the corner and try to imagine how you might get back into my good graces.'
Sharae caught her breath as she watched Angel react to the tongue lashing. It seemed Preston's words hurt the slave girl more than any whipping could. She ran to the corner and sobbed bitterly.
Sharae glanced back at Preston as he regarded Angel weeping. A flood of emotions passed over his face. Anger, sadness, anguish, pity, love. He took a step toward Angel, then stopped, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, he turned to Sharae, meeting her gaze.
His eyes misted over and he struggled visibly to control himself. “You look surprised,” he said at last. “I'm not always the cold cruel monster you think I am. I happen to love that girl. When I hurt her, I hurt myself. And vice versa.'
As he began to release Sharae from her ball-tie, he gradually returned to his usual self. Leaving her arms tightly bound, he stood her up and guided her toward the poles from which Angel had just dangled.
“Time for your punishment, Sharae.” She struggled at his words. “Didn't you realize?” he chuckled. “When you chose Angel's punishment, you also chose your own.'
“No!” Sharae's protest was cut short as he forced the inflatable gag into her mouth.
