Testing the Submissive(16)

But before viewing the evidence himself, Lewis launched into the questions:

“Did they whip and fuck you at the same time, or did they take turns?”

“Mostly they took turns Sir, but the order would change, as well as the length of time. It wasn’t particularly structured, but by the end, each of them enjoyed ample time with me alone.”

“Who went first?” he asked.

‘They tied me up, in an awkward uncomfortable position, and then they played some sort of a Korean game, similar to rock paper scissors I guess. The one who won, I believe his name is Kai. He went first.”

“What did he do?”

“My body was arched backward, it’s hard to explain, but essentially my torso formed a bow. My tummy was stretched and became a perfect target. Kai had a heavy piece of thick rope. He soaked the rope in the kitchen sink making it even heavier. Then he whipped my stomach with it, from just under my breasts to an inch or so above my pubic area.”

“How did you react?”

“I grimaced and stifled my cries, best I could. A few times the pain overwhelmed me, and I howled aloud. I did my best to maintain my composure.”

“How many times did he strike you?”

“About seven or eight times, and then another of them, I think his name is Ace took over – but it was because Ace wanted to show them a particular technique.”

“What was the technique?”

“He swung the heavy rope, but just at the moment of impact he pulled sharply toward himself, so at the cusp of contact the rope was dragged across my skin, in effect causing a harsh rope-burn along the length of the welt.”

“Did it lessen the pain or worsen it?”

“It was neither less nor more severe, it was just different. The rope-burn added a new aspect to the agony. It felt like my skin was being burned off.”

“How many did he deliver?”

“Ace only gave me one more, but then the others took a try with the new trick. Some got it. Some didn’t get the timing quite right. Regardless, my stomach was in pure hell.”

“Show me your tummy.”

I lifted my T-shirt up, not enough to reveal my breasts, I’d save that for now, but enough to show Lewis my belly and waist. The horizontal welts were still very visible. In fact, they had darkened. The strikes where the pull-technique was applied, left a unique mark. The bruising wasn’t as dark, but the skin was chafe from the burn. Lewis could see that upwards of a dozen strikes had decorated my flesh. A few of the strikes had also wrapped around my waist.

“What was next on your agenda of harm?”

“The men untied me and made me kneel over the ottoman. The Korean who was next in the queue beat my ass using his belt. I don’t know his name because he was quiet and barely spoke. He lashed at me quite recklessly. He was also the first to fuck me, but that happened later.”

I answered a few more questions, then pulled my track pants down and bent over, so Lewis could get a good look at my ass.

“What are these nicks and scratches from?”

“That’s from his belt buckle. Halfway through he flipped it over and used the business end.”

The interview lasted another hour. I told Lewis everything and showed him the other parts of my body. My breasts of course, my nipples. My legs. I even pulled open my butt cheeks to show him my asshole. One of the Koreans had taken a pencil and snapped it against my asshole over and over. His aim was so accurate, and his method so perfected – it actually bruised my puckered hole. He wasn’t the first to fuck me, but he was the first to fuck my ass. He did so immediately following his abuse, knowing I was still very tender from the punishment.

“How many orgasms did the Koreans have, in total?”

It took me a minute to count. Two of them fucked my pussy once, two twice. Three blowjobs. Two took my ass. One masturbated on my face and one on my tits. Thirteen orgasms in total. I guess three of them came three times and one of them four times.

“How many times did you cum?”

I hated answering this question because it was always so humiliating. I confessed I had three orgasms myself. Twice when a cock was inside me, and once in the wee hours of the morning, after all the Koreans had fallen asleep.

“Tell me about that last orgasm,” Lewis requested.

I told him how we were all in one large recreational room in the lower level of the home, where all of the evening’s proceedings had taken place. Coincidentally, there were four sofas in the room, and one by one each of the four men claimed one. The last guy to use me had jerked off all over my breasts. I was still partially bound. He went to the restroom and came back with a warm towel which he used to wipe away most of the cum. Then, in an act of kindness, he untied me and motioned toward the bedroom. I had the opportunity to sleep in the privacy of my own room, on a bed no less. Instead I smiled as an indication of gratitude, but shook my head ‘no thanks’. I wanted to stay where I was - in the same large room, surrounded by my four abusers. I felt humbled in their presence. Soon each of them was snoring lightly, or at the very least clearly asleep. I lay there, completely exhausted, still suffering from jet lag. There were remnants of cum still in my hair and leaking out my pussy and ass. My fingers gravitated toward my clit. Just the contemplation of cum leaking out of me was arousing, despite my fatigue. Not to mention the sight of welts and bruises all over me. I masturbated while my torturers slept cumming one final time. It felt strangely blissful. Then I passed out for almost ten hours.