Chapter 6: The painful truth

He was fucking her hard. She tightened her pussy around his cock, desperately urging him to climax. Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed the buggy whip. The sight of it made her sore backside hurt all the more and motivated her to give him as much pleasure as possible, wanting him to soon achieve some sort of climax. He groaned louder, banging her harder as she continued to tighten around him, willing him to cum. Her breasts were jiggling up and down from his vigorous thrusts. He looked down into her eyes and she knew better than to break eye contact with him. She locked her eyes with his, even though it made her uncomfortable.

She knew if he didn't soon reach a climax he was likely to beat her some more. She wasn't sure she could take any more. Her fingers dug into his back subconsciously as she urged him to climax. "Please," she thought in her head, "Please." Finally his body stiffened and with a loud groan he released his hot liquid deep inside of her. It took several more hard thrusts before he finally finished. Relief washed over her.

The sweat dripped from his forehead as he collapsed on top of her frail body. She could barely breathe from his weight. When he finally rolled off of her, she gasped for breath and slowly turned over on her stomach to relieve the intense pain of her throbbing backside. She was very sore from the beating she had received only moments earlier, and she trembled slightly from the intensity of the pain coupled with the intensity of his hard thrusts.

She stared at the wall away from him. A tear rolled down the side of her face. She felt herself begin to slowly drift away from consciousness, absorbed in the pain.

Then suddenly ice shot through her veins. She was jolted back to consciousness as Max began to touch the raised welts that adorned her back. His calloused fingers lightly traced the raised red lines on her back, thighs and buttocks. She trembled from his touch. He had never touched her like this before. Instantly, her mind was transported back to reality and she sucked in her breath, unable to keep from wincing. Although the beating was over, the slightest pressure to her welts felt like fire. She wondered if she could possibly be dreaming. Had she finally lost her mind?

The beating had been for his pleasure. He had stopped all pretenses of finding her guilty of frivolous wrongdoings. He no longer bothered making up excuses, he beat her because he wanted to beat her. They both knew this was the case and Celia had come to enjoy not being blamed constantly for various wrongdoings.

Her life had changed dramatically. Max no longer allowed her to sleep with the paying customers of the Brothel because he couldn't tolerate her body being soiled by their sweat and grime. Max wanted her all to himself, no matter how unreasonable that may seem to everyone else. She was his captive. She had done nothing wrong to deserve such a fate, other than dazzle him with her beauty and grace, but nevertheless she was his and he made sure she knew that.

Some days his fucking was almost constant, coupled with ongoing beatings and malicious little games. Other days he didn't lay a finger on her, ignoring her or sending her to bathe or seek treatment. Sometimes he even sent her to socialize with the other whores, but any amount of freedom he gave her was always short lived. Their relationship was strange and Celia wasn't sure what to make of it, she simply didn't understand it, nor did any of the other women that were housed within the walls of Max's brothel.

She lay there motionless as his fingers continued to gently stroke her welts. She knew from experience her tears might make him angry, but she didn't care anymore. She could no longer hold them back. Her unbridled tears were becoming a common occurrence and Max was allowing them more often than not.

She thought she had endured enough shock for one day, but then she was caught even more off guard when she felt his moist lips touch her wicked marks. She shuddered from the sensation and gasped aloud. Max had never put his mouth on her body, at least not tenderly. She began to weep harder, partly from fear, partly from elation. In the back of her mind she wondered where all of this would lead.

"Shhh," He whispered in response to her soft cries. He continued to gently kiss her welts, moving his mouth down along her back to her sore, swollen bottom.

Max was very pleased with himself. He had never been able to do this with any other woman in his life and his chest burned with pleasure. Every inch of Celia made him feel alive. She let out another light gasp as next his tongue licked her punished flesh, causing her to shudder with pleasure.

Celia closed her eyes and realized how much she had missed this. She had not been touched with gentleness in a very long time. She had been deprived of the contact with the customers who treated her gently. She had missed the touch of the other whores as they kissed her lips and made gentle love to her. She wept as she realized how much she had longed for this sort of tenderness. She lay next to Max, absorbed in the moment. Her eyes fluttered with pleasure. Her breathing eased. Despite the continued pain of her welts, she was starting to feel good.

Max's hot breath combined with his wet tongue produced a strange sensation, one of pleasure mixed with pain. Before she could stop herself, a rather loud moan escaped her lips. She waited for retribution, none came.

Max knew he could finally do what he had been longing to do from the moment he first laid eyes on her. He rolled her on her back and brought his lips up to meet hers. A kiss on her tender mouth, something he had not been able to do before. He gently inserted his tongue between her lips, tasting her. Her eyes brimmed with tears of joy rather than pain, pleasure rather than torment.

Max didn't understand. Her neck, finger, or ear, they were all pleasurable to him. He even enjoyed her sobs, and he hated women sobbing. Over time he had pretty much allowed Celia to sob freely and make noise even when he beat her, something he hardly ever allowed. He had never felt like this. He wanted to possess every inch of her and his chest burned with such strong desire for her he could hardly contain himself.

But as usual something in the back of his mind clicked, like a steel trap slamming shut. He stopped what he was doing and the familiar feelings of callousness and anger returned. He pulled away from Celia and looked at her with consternation.

Celia knew her blissful moment was over. "I'm sorry Max," she whispered, though she had done nothing wrong.

Max glanced at the whip leaning against the bedside table and then looked at her. If he had been the old Max he would already be whipping her, but he was transforming. He lay beside her and looked at her, studying her nasty welts and red rimmed eyes.

Celia was conditioned to take what she was given and she sensed it was time for round two. She slowly rolled onto her stomach and reached up to grip the headboard, bracing for the sting of the whip. She hated the whip.

But Max surprised her yet again. He stood up and dressed, picked up the whip and left the room. He left her lying on her stomach speechless, alone, and sore. She knew he would return in time and it would not be with kisses and tenderness. She shuddered.

Celia had been conditioned to sleep whenever she could. She wondered briefly what time of day it was before her eyes closed and she drifted off to sleep. She was naked and her backside still throbbed from the buggy whip, but she was accustomed to being in this state.

She didn't stir until the familiar sound of the door awaked her and she heard the sound of Max's distinct footsteps as he entered the room. He had returned. She managed to sit up to greet him, she knew it was expected.

Max instructed her to relieve herself in the bedpan and place it outside the room. She knew this was not a good sign and meant more pain would soon be coming her way. She quickly did as she was told.

Max gazed at her beautiful body. His cock began to stir beneath his pants. "Come stand in front of me," He instructed as he sat down on the end of the bed. She was shaking when she approached him to stand in front of him in all her nakedness.

"Turn around," He instructed and watched as she slowly turned. Her backside was still covered with nasty welts from his buggy whip. He thought briefly of the faded photographs in the bottom drawer of his desk. He had obtained them from the Far East. Naked women bound and whipped in unusual poses, enduring what many would consider torture. Max found those pictures deeply arousing, but not as arousing as the sight of Celia's naked welted body as she stood before him.

When Celia finished turning around, he grabbed her breast in one of his hands, pinching her nipple and watching intently as the pain washed over her face. He then reached inside his pocket and retrieved some crude clothes pins. She began to tremble, sensing he had something sinister in mind. She had never seen the clothespins before. "No," She gasped as he clamped a clothespin to each of her tender nipples. Her eyes filled instantly with pain. He studied her reaction as the pain surged through her. She wanted to reach up and rip the clothespins off, but she had been conditioned to accept what she was given, and she was afraid of what he would do to her if she resisted. Tears began to roll down her face and she couldn't help but cry out weakly, "Please Max."

Max's cock was now fully rigid. Celia writhed in agony, and Max took pity on her, reaching out to remove the clothespins from her nipples. As he released them, she breathed a heavy sigh of relief. She sensed things were just beginning.

"You have never confessed the truth to me about how you ended up here," Max mused, flicking his fingers across her nipples, watching her wince at his harsh touch. "Tell me Celia, how did you come to be in Cheyenne?" He stared intently into her eyes.

She didn't know how to respond to his question. His games were tricky and he was seldom straightforward. She shyly turned her head aside, unable to look at him, unable to answer. He knew she hated it when he pressed her for answers to personal questions. He wanted to know the truth from her, but he wasn't sure why. He took the clothespins in his hands once again, cupping her breasts, and pinching and clamping each of her nipples once again. The anguish washed over her face.