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At first he would call for a date, take me to dinner or a movie or something then take me back to his place where we would get into our sexual world. When the dates tapered down and we started going right into the sexual stuff I didn't mind too much. Like he was and like most men are I suppose, I wasn't in it for love. I was in it for the orgasms. Still, I depended on him and thought of him as faithful to me as well. He started to call me at odd hours and demand I come over. I would quickly dress and go to him to be hurt, humiliated and ravaged. That's when he started calling me at work and making me take the day off. I would tell my boss I was sick and I would rush to his house. There, he would degrade me horribly, hurt me and make my mind real with intense sexual pleasure. I was his all hours of the day or night. The belt came about on just such an occasion. He called early on a Saturday morning and told me to come over. "I just woke up," I said, "I'll be over in an hour, okay?" "No. Get over here right away." "Sure." But I didn't. I ate some cereal, brushed my teeth, showered, dressed and showed up an hour and fifteen minutes after he called. I arrived fed, rested, clean and very wet with pussy juices. He met me at the door. It opened just as I arrived and he stuck his head out looking frustrated and a bit angry. "Took you awhile," he said in a cold tone, his eyes hard. "I said it would take an hour." He grunted and motioned me inside. He took me into the bedroom where he had me cross my arms over my stomach and lie across the bed with me head dangling over one end and my feet across the other. Then I heard "the sound" for the first time. "The sound" is the whisper his wide leather belt makes as he pulls it from the belt loops. A whisper-snick, whisper-snick sound that carries the promise of searing pain to come. On that Saturday, lying on my arms across his bed I knew it was his belt I was hearing but I thought he was just stripping out of his clothing. He draped the belt across the bed so it was next to my face. I could smell the leather. My cunt was already on fire. I just knew he was going to be fucking me in a minute, slapping my ass and drilling me. And, consistent with what I thought was about to happen, he lifted my hips and unbuttoned my jeans, which he slid down my legs and removed. His hands rubbed my ass cheeks through my panties and worked their way down between my legs. "Are you my whore?" "Yes." "That's all you are, too, right?" "Yes." He yanked my panties off, too. Then he came around to where my head was draped off the side of the bed. "Open your legs." I held my thighs wide apart. What was going on? He picked up the belt then straddled my head, his knees pressed on either side holding my head like a vise. With my arms crossed beneath me I could only move my legs, which he had commanded me to hold open. My beating started. CRACK! The report was muffled, as was my scream. The leather cracked across my ass and left a swath of fire that made me shriek. I clamped my legs together. He freed my head from the leg clamp for only a moment. "Don't even think about closing your legs again," he said. I had never heard his voice like this before. I hoped he didn't kill me. I opened my legs, trembling with fear. The area where he had hit me with the belt throbbed. His thighs clamped my head again. I tensed. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! My ass turned into a lake of fire. The pain was intense and I cried and struggled as best I could and screamed. Between blows I begged him to stop. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! I sobbed and pleaded to no avail. He worked the belt down my thighs and across my lower back. He carefully placed several blows across my tender, swollen, wet pussy lips, which made me howl in agony. It felt as if a candle flame was singing my pussy lips. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! I became aware of the spreading wetness underneath my writhing body.

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