I didn’t know.
“Enough idle chatter,” Berkley announced. “Time for your punishment.”
Before I could answer or protest, he swung the black riding crop in an expert arc. It landed with a flat smack against my bare pussy lips, making me jump and gasp. Then he did it again and again…and again.
I don’t know if you’ve ever been spanked in that area but I don’t recommend it—it fucking hurts. There was no padding to cushion the blows and soon my pussy lips were stinging like crazy. Also, unlike the spanking Salt had given me the night before on my bottom, this one was all pain and no pleasure. I don’t know if it was because someone other than my partner was doing the spanking or because they had me tied down and helpless, but it did absolutely nothing to turn me on—it just hurt like a son of a bitch.
I twitched my hips from side to side, desperately trying to avoid the blows. Berkley was an expert with the crop, however and I couldn’t get away from his merciless spanking.
“Stop—ow! Let me—ow—go!” I gasped.
“In good time.” Berkley landed one last blow and then examined his handiwork. “See this, Michaels?” he said to the guard, who was still watching with a lustful look in his mud-brown eyes. “See how the outer pussy lips are all swollen and red? That’s exactly how you want it to look.”
“Yeah, exactly.” The guard was practically drooling. Clearly he was less interested in the fine art of pussy spanking and more interested in my naked crotch. I prayed that Berkley wouldn’t leave me alone with him. I had a feeling he would use more than the crop on me if he got a chance.
“Would you like to try a few strokes before I insert the plug?” Berkley was handing the other man the riding crop.
“Uh…sure, I guess.” The way Michaels gripped the crop I could tell he wasn’t nearly as experienced with its use as Berkley. And sure enough, his first blow was much harder than any of the previous ones landed by the director.
I had been gasping and moaning before but now I screamed in real pain. This was a delicate area that was not meant to take such rigorous abuse. I felt like I was going to pass out for a minute, it hurt so badly.
“Huh—think I’m getting the hang of this,” Michaels grunted. The look on his face said he enjoyed the sound of my agony almost as much as he liked looking at my bare pussy. Sick bastard.
“Very good.” Berkley nodded and I saw that he was getting out a bottle of lube, presumably to help with the plug insertion. “Try again but use a little more finesse this time. It’s all in the flick of the wrist.”
“Yeah, okay.” Michaels raised the crop, a greedy look on his lumpish features.
But the blow never fell.
Suddenly Salt was looming in the doorway with a look on his face that was terrible to behold. His facial features were absolutely calm and cold but there was murder in his ice blue eyes. I thought it must be the same way he’d looked when he killed his own father.
Stepping forward into the room he grabbed Michael’s raised arm. With one swift motion, he brought it down around behind the man’s back and then sharply up.
There was a muffled popping sound and Michaels dropped the riding crop and screamed like a little girl. Then Salt had him by the neck, lifting him off the floor as though it was nothing to hold a two hundred and fifty-pound man several feet off the ground.
Berkley looked up from his plug preparation, clearly startled.
“Mr. Saltanov,” he exclaimed. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I could ask same thing.” The look in Salt’s eyes was very ugly. “I leave my mishka alone for a few minutes and the next thing I know I am hearing her screaming. Then I come up and find this.” He nodded at the stunned Michaels who was still struggling feebly in his grasp. One of his arms was cocked at an unnatural angle—either it was broken or the shoulder was popped out of its socket. I couldn’t say I felt very sorry for him either way.
“But—” Berkley protested.
“How dare you touch her?” Salt growled, his eyes hot with rage. “How dare you hurt her? Mishka is mine—mine. No one is to touch her but me.”