Playtime

An eternity crawled by in silence. Panic ebbed, fear receded, pain mellowed. Their absence left her hollow. Alone.



Alone with her thoughts, and nothing to distract her. Nothing to stop the endless mental circling. Someone had betrayed her. Anger gave way to sadness, tears gave way to anger. It was a cycle she repeated in the silence again and again as she waited.



For something.



Anything.



When he finally returned, he wasn't alone. Footsteps echoed in the room, a chair creaked. Then silence descended again, but the quality of the silence was different. She was no longer alone, there was someone else here with her.

Fingers brushed the skin at the nape of her neck, just above her collar. It made her jerk, throwing her off balance and causing her to fall face-first to the dirt. Ineffectually, she struggled to right herself, but her wrists were tethered to her thighs in such a way that she couldn't begin to push herself back up.



Laughter mocked her. Shame made her cheeks flush red. She'd been trying so hard to resist reacting. And here she was, lying in the dirt, completely under the control of a sadist.



Hands roughly wrapped around her waist, lifting her to her knees, then back to her feet, so she stood before them, her ankles still spread wide. Something was dragged across the floor, the scraping sounds grating against her ears. Once more, a hand pressed against the nape of her neck, shoving her forward.



She was pressed down, hard, against a rough wooden table. The surface chafed against her nipples, threatening splinters to her tender breasts. It caught her skin, making her hold herself still for fear of the damage it could do.



His hands were rough as they groped her ass, squeezing hard. He slapped her butt, eliciting a gasp as it reignited the fire from her previous whipping. He slapped again and again, bringing tears to her eyes. Unable to restrain herself, she shook, the pain and humiliation building with each strike. Between spankings, he would stroke her softly, the gentleness a strange contrast to the pain.



A chair creaked, the sound reminding her of the silent observer. Someone else was watching her captor play with her. That knowledge was simultaneously horrifying and exciting. Her mind recoiled at that last thought. It shouldn't be exciting. It couldn't be.



But it was.

A/N: If you're still reading at this point, comments and reviews are appreciated.