X Marks The Spot

X Marks The Spot: The Flogging

The air in the hidden dungeon within The Obsidian Vault sex club hung thick and heavy, a heady mix of expensive perfume, polished leather, and the lingering aroma of sweat and sex. Kate Hawthorne stood in the center of the dark, foreboding dungeon, her bare skin gleaming under the soft glow of the pin lights overhead.

The room, with its impenetrable black walls, seemed medieval and she felt like its latest victim as she stood looking at the St. Andrew's Cross.

Her husband, Eric, watched her from the shadows, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of lust and possessiveness. He had chosen this hidden dungeon specifically for its privacy and its St. Andrew's Cross, a piece of equipment that had become a central feature in their increasingly elaborate sexual play.

Kate's long, wavy flaxen blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing her honey-toned skin, which was lightly tanned and studded with freckles. Her blue eyes sparkled with a mixture of excitement and trepidation as she approached the cross, her curvy figure moving with the grace of a woman who knew understood the power of her own beauty.

The St. Andrew's Cross was imposing against the far wall, its dark wood polished to a high sheen. Leather straps hung from its arms, ready to bind her in place. Kate's heart raced as she stepped closer, her nipples hardening into tight buds, standing out almost an inch from her soft round lush breasts.

Kate could feel Eric's gaze on her, and it sent a shiver down her spine. She knew what was coming, and she both feared and craved it.

Eric could sense she knew he was watching her. After all, he never tired of looking at her exquisite body ― nor touching it. She was a force of nature. She gave off the vibe of a vixen, a real man-eater.

Kate's skin was lightly tanned with freckles all over her body and face, making her look almost feral. Her round C-Cup breasts were crowned with small light pink areolas but her incongruously large nipples were as round as wine corks, sticking out almost an inch when they are aroused, which was practically always. They cried out to be licked and sucked.

She was five foot six, making her 34-23-34 measurements appear even more impressive as her long wavy flaxen hair cascaded over her breasts and down to the middle of her freckled back. Once your eyes ventured lower than her fabulous breasts, they were drawn to her clean-shaved pussy and her proudly protruding mons.

And then, when she turned around, you were rewarded with a view of her nicely rounded, pert, pear-shaped ass and the word WHORE seared into the flesh above her ass crack, leaving no doubt that her entire body, but most especially her ass, were made for fucking.

Though her husband took credit for turning her into a whore, she had been a willing infidel. Though she wouldn't admit it to him, both she and her stepsister Moira had seen a therapists who clinically diagnosed both of them as sex addicts.

Though they were step sisters, they could easily pass for identical twins. They had been raised together and had gone off to college together. Once away from home they both discovered how much they liked cock ― and each other, forming a lesbian relationship. They had been lovers for years now.

Eric watched Kate as she stood in front of the cross. It was readily apparent that her mind was drifting. She was in another world.

He stepped out of the shadows. At six foot four, his tall, lean frame was intimidating, dominant. He was dressed in a tailored suit, his dark brown hair slicked back, his hazel eyes sharp and piercing. He carried himself with the confidence of a man who had made a slut of his wife for his own perverse pleasure ― and in revenge for her past infidelities.

"Come back to earth!" demanded Eric as he slapped Kate's ass, making her lurch forward in surprise. "Spread your arms and legs, you slutty little whore. It's time for us to play!"

There was no doubt that Kate was both a slut and a whore now. He had made her his slut. But only after he had caught her whoring around with her boss. That had been her decision.

That very night Eric caught her, he had dragged her home and used her like a whore, again and again. He had taken her ass for the very first time that night, and then a second and third time and then he lost count as he ravaged her body all that night.

At first Kate had only acquiesced to his treatment because of her guilt and shame at having been caught being such an unfaithful whore. But as the night had worn on, she had a revelation ― she enjoyed being treated like a whore, a slut.

The more her husband called her a nasty little whore and a dirty little slut, the more aroused she became. She didn't have to be the good little girl any longer. She was no longer in control. Her new domineering lord and master was in control, and she felt free to be as nasty and skanky as she had always secretly dreamed of being.

Instead of that night being a crossroads in their marriage where they might have gone their separate ways, it was a cathartic experience for both of them, bonding them even more closely together in what became their mutually obsessive lust.

"Turn around," Eric growled, his breath warm against her ear. Kate did as she was told, her back to him, her freckled back, ass and thighs exposed and vulnerable. She felt his hands on her hips, guiding her into position, and then the cold touch of the leather straps as he secured her wrists and ankles to the cross spreadeagled.

Her arms were stretched above her head, her body arched slightly forward, her back, ass, and thighs bared to the blows of the flogger he retrieved from the nearby table.

The room was silent for a moment, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioning and the distant murmur of the city in the distance, far from the dark alley in which the sex club was hidden.

Kate's breath came in short, shallow gasps as she waited, her skin tingling with anticipation. She could feel Eric's presence behind her, his energy palpable, and she knew he was savoring the moment, taking in the sight of her bound and vulnerable body, his favorite toy.

She reminded herself that there was still an element of revenge at work for her past whoring as far as her husband was concerned. But that was OK, she had long ago decided. She would do her pleasurable penance. He had earned his revenge, and she had earned her pain.

Suddenly a loud slapping noise filled the dungeon and instantaneously, and without warning, the flogger struck. The leather tendrils seared into her flesh, a stinging kiss that made her yelp and arch her back.

The pain was sharp, immediate, and it sent a jolt of adrenaline through her body. She cried out in surprise at the severity of the blow, a mix of pleasure and pain, her voice echoing in the quiet room.

"Good little slut," Eric murmured, his voice a low rumble. "You take it so well."

The flogger struck again, this time lower, across her soft ass making it quiver momentarily. Kate bit her lip to stifle a moan, her body trembling as the red welts began to bloom across her skin.

The pain was intense, but it was a pain she craved, a pain that was tinged with pleasure, that made her feel alive. She could feel her pussy starting to gush, her juices coating her inner thighs, and she knew Eric could see it too.

"You're so beautiful like this," he said, his voice thick with desire. "So fucking beautiful."

The flogger continued its dance, the leather tendrils striking her back, her ass, her thighs, each blow a mix of agony and ecstasy. Kate's cries filled the room, a symphony of sound that spoke of her surrender, her submission to the pleasure and pain, to redemption.

Her body was a canvas, and each strike of the flogger was a brushstroke, painting her with red welts that stood out against her honey-toned and freckled skin which otherwise was flawless, other than the newly forming welts.

As the blows continued, Kate's mind began to fog, her thoughts consumed by the sensations flooding her body. She was no longer Kate Hawthorne, the jaded slut, the trophy wife, the heiress, the insatiable whore. She was simply a body, a lump of flesh, a vessel for pleasure and pain, a toy for Eric to play with. And she reveled in it.

The flogger struck again, this time across the small of her back, and Kate shrieked again, her voice raw and unfiltered. Her body shook, her muscles twitched, and she felt the first stirrings of an orgasm building deep within her. She was on the edge, teetering between pleasure and pain, and she knew Eric could push her over the edge.

"Please," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Please, Eric, I need ― "

But her plea was cut off by another stinging blow, this time across her ass, and she cried out again, her body arching as the orgasm crashed over her. Her pussy clenched, her juices flooding out of her pussy.

She was in freefall, she felt herself completely lose control and squirt, her essence streaming from her pussy, coating the floor beneath her. It was a mild squirt, but it was enough to make her moan, her body shuddering as the waves of pleasure washed over her.

Eric watched, his eyes dark with desire, as Kate rode out her orgasm. He could see the pleasure on her face, the way her body trembled, and he knew he had done this to her. He had made her this way, turned her into the insatiable slut she was today, and he took a perverse pride in it.

"Such a good little whore," he murmured, his voice soft. "You take it so well."

The flogger fell silent, the room once again filled with the sound of Kate's ragged breathing and the distant hum of the city. Her body was marked with red welts, a testament to the pleasure and pain she had endured. She was still bound to the cross, her body exposed, her pussy still dripping her juices down her legs and onto the floor.

Eric stepped closer, his hand reaching out to stroke her hair, his touch gentle.

"You're incredible," he said, his voice filled with admiration. "So fucking incredible."

Kate smiled, her eyes half-lidded, her body still buzzing with the lingering pleasure of her orgasm.

"Thank you, Master," she whispered, her voice soft and submissive.

But the moment of tenderness was fleeting. Eric's expression hardened, his eyes darkening with a new intensity.

"Not done yet," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Not even close."

Kate's smile widened, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. She knew what was coming, and she was ready for it. She trusted him, even as she knew he would push her further, harder, until she was moaning his name.

Eric stepped back, his hand reaching for something on the table behind him. Kate's breath caught in her throat as she saw what he held ― a thick, black leather paddle. Her eyes widened, her body tensing as she realized what was next.

"Oh, fuck," she whimpered, her voice a mix of fear and excitement. "Eric, please ― "

But her plea was cut off as the paddle struck, the impact echoing through the room. The pain was immediate, intense, and it sent a jolt through her body. She shrieked at the top of her voice, her voice a mix of pleasure and pain, but a couple of octaves higher, her body arching as the paddle struck again, and again, each blow harder than the last.

The room was filled with the sound of her cries, the smell of her sweat and arousal, the sight of her body marked with red welts. She was a vision of tortured beauty, a testament to the depths of her submission, her desire to please him.

And as the paddle continued its relentless assault, Kate's mind began to fog again, her thoughts consumed by the sensations flooding her body. She reminded herself again, she was no longer in control, no longer the jaded slut, or just the insatiable whore. She was simply a body, a vessel for pleasure and pain, a fuck toy for her husband to use and perhaps even discard someday.

The paddle struck again, this time across her ass, and Kate screamed even louder, her voice raw and unfiltered. Her body shook, her muscles twitching uncontrollably, and she felt the first stirrings of another more intense orgasm building deep within her. She was on the edge, her soft ass and thighs quivering, teetering between pleasure and pain, and she knew Eric would push her over the edge into oblivion.

"Please," she begged, her voice hoarse. "Please, Eric, I need -- "

But her plea was preempted by another strike, this time across her thighs, and she wailed in pain, her body arching as the orgasm crashed over her.

Her pussy clenched, her juices flowing down her legs, and she felt herself squirt again, this time in a long stream, her essence coating the floor beneath her, leaving a huge puddle this time.

It was an intense squirt, making her moan and groan again and again, her body shuddering as the waves of pleasure washed over her.

Eric watched, his eyes still dark with desire, as Kate rode out her latest and most intense orgasm. He could see the euphoria on her face, the way her body trembled. He could see the goosebumps all over her freckled flesh, the way her huge nipples jutted from her giggling breasts.

And he knew he had done that to her. He had made her this way. He had turned her into the insatiable little slut that she was now, and he took great pride in having made her so ― his whore, his slut.

"Such a good little whore," he murmured, his voice soft. "You always take it so well."

Eric left his whore gasping for air, still strapped to the cross as he wandered out of the dungeon and to the bar at the end of the long hallway for a drink. She wouldn't be going anywhere and Eric still had plans for her before they left the club.

X Marks The Spot: The Caning

The pin lights were off now and recessed lighting in the ceiling cast fractured shards of red light across the dank dungeon, each beam dancing like a whisp of air across Kate's bare flesh. The air was thick with anticipation, the scent of leather, musk, sweat and Kate's sex juices mingling in a heady cocktail.

Eric's shadow loomed large, his presence a silent force that commanded the room. Kate hung from the St. Andrew's Cross, her body a mass of trembling curves, her nipples already stiff peaks again against her honeyed flesh. The word WHORE branded above her ass crack seemed to glow under the dim light, a testament to her unrepentant debauchery.

Her husband had insisted on branding her with the word WHORE so she would never forget her past transgressions, her disloyalty. She had begged that he merely have the word tattooed above her ass. But he had insisted on getting his pound of flesh, literally having it searing into her flesh by a cosmetic surgeon.

Eric stepped from the shadows, his movements deliberate, his eyes devouring her helpless body.

"Turn around, Kate," he commanded, after unbuckling the leather straps that bound her.

Eric's voice was a low growl that sent shivers down her spine. She obeyed, her long wavy blonde hair cascading over her shoulders as she faced away from the cross. She recognized the tone in his voice and she knew that she was in for it.

The leather straps were tighter against her skin as he secured her wrists and ankles again, her body splayed out like an offering. She could feel his gaze on her, tracing the freckles scattered across her shoulders, the curve of her lush round breasts, the shaved smoothness of her pussy. She saw his eyes drawn to her engorged labia lips.

"You're mine," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear as he fingered her pussy, finding her clit. "Every inch of you."

Kate moaned softly, her clit throbbing at his touch. She loved this ― the surrender, the pain, the pleasure. The liberation that came with being her husband's sex slave. Eric's hand trailed down her spine, his touch both gentle and commanding.

"We're not done yet," he whispered, his tone laced with promise. "Not even close!"

He finished strapping her to the cross, his hands firm but careful, as if handling something precious and breakable. Kate's heart raced as he spun her face around to look at him. Her blue eyes locked onto his, searching for clues, but his expression was unreadable.

Before she could speak, he pressed her back against the cross, the wood cool against her heated skin. This time, he had strapped her tighter, her body flush against the surface, yet her breasts swung free, swaying back and forth, her nipples aching with need.

"What ― what are you doing?" she stuttered, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and excitement.

Eric didn't answer. Instead, he reached for a silk blindfold, the fabric smooth and cool as he tied it over her eyes. Darkness enveloped her, plunging her into a world of uncertainty. Her breath quickened, her senses heightened. She could hear his movements, the soft rustle of fabric, the faint creak of the cross, but she couldn't see him. Couldn't sense his movements.

"Eric," she whispered, her voice laced with panic. "What's happening? What are you going to do to me?"

"Shh," he soothed, his lips brushing against her ear. "Just feel, Kate. Let go."

But she couldn't. The blindfold stripped her of control, leaving her more vulnerable and exposed than ever before. She strained to listen, her body tense as she waited for the unknown.

Then, she heard it -- the faint swish of air, the whisper of something cutting through the silence. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized what was coming.

The cane struck the inside of her left thigh, the impact sharp and stinging. Startled, Kate shrieked and piss streamed down the inside of both her thighs.

"Fuck!" she screamed, her body arching against the cross. The pain was immense, a fiery line across her skin. She didn't know where the next blow would land, and the uncertainty sent her into a panic.

The next blow was almost immediate, and to the inside of her other thigh. Now her entire body quivered in excruciating pain, gasping for air, trying to control the pain.

"Please, Eric, please, baby!" she begged, her voice breaking. "Eric, I -- "

Another strike, this time across the side of her right ass cheek. The cane bit into her flesh, the pain mingling with the heat of her arousal. She moaned, her cunt throbbing, her juices dripping down her thigh joining the puddle of urine on the floor.

The blindfold amplified every sensation, every sound, every touch. She was at his mercy, and the realization sent both a jolt of fear and desire through her.

"Admit it, you nasty little slut -- you like this, don't you, you skanky little whore?" Eric taunted, his voice a low growl. "How does it feel not knowing where I'll strike next. Not knowing when."

She didn't answer. She couldn't. The cane struck again, this time across her mons just below her belly button. She screamed, her body twisting against the straps, her nipples and breasts ballooning from her chest. The pain was intense, but it only fueled her arousal, her clit pulsing, her pussy aching for release.

"Please," she whimpered. "I can't -- I can't take it. I can't -- "

But Eric didn't stop. The cane struck her left breast, the impact sending a shockwave through her body. She shrieked in pain, her voice raw, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her nipples were on fire, her skin flushed and marked with red welts. She was a mess of sensation, her body teetering on the edge of overload.

"Eric!" she sobbed. "I'm -- I'm going to -- "

The cane struck her inner thigh again, dangerously close to her pussy. Her shriek of terror was three octaves higher, her body convulsing, her juices streaming down her thighs. The pain and pleasure were too much, her mind unable to process the intensity. Her body throbbed with pleasure and pain, then her body went limp, her breathing became shallower.

"Kate," Eric called, his voice concerned but sounding distant. "Kate, look at me."

But she couldn't. Her body was heavy, her limbs unresponsive. The last thing she felt was the cane striking the side of her ass one final time before darkness claimed her.

When she came to, she was still strapped to the cross, her body hanging limply, her skin marked with red lines. The blindfold had been removed, but her vision was still blurry, her mind foggy. Eric stood before her, his expression unreadable, his eyes scanning her body.

"Kate," he said softly, his hand cupping her cheek. "Are you okay?"

She tried to speak, but her voice failed her. Instead, she nodded weakly, her body still trembling from the aftermath of her last all-consuming orgasm. He unstrapped her, his hands gentle as he steadied her on her feet. Her legs buckled, and he caught her, holding her close.

"You pushed yourself too far -- I pushed you too far," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. "But you're mine, Kate. Always mine."

She leaned into him, her body still buzzing with sensation. The pain was fading, replaced by a deep, satisfying ache. She was his, his to mark, his to break, his to rebuild. And as he covered her with her black velvet cape, he carried her to their car.

Their SUV was parked a couple of hundred feet down the dark shadowy alley. The only light coming from the street light almost a block away. It had rained and a low fog clouded the path ahead, making the air glow eerily.

The alley was filled with an inch of standing water. Kate focused on the sound of Eric's leather shoes as they splashed against the aged alley's brick surface. She burrowed her head on his shoulder.

Kate's mind was already drifting to the next time, the next session, the next surrender as the drizzling rain caressed her face.

THE END