PART 1 – The Guy

I sat back on the large rock next to my bag. I was exhausted, but elated. This past few hours had fuelled my desires, my kinks, my perversions … and how!

This girl, my Little Girl, whose actual name was still not known to me, nor mine to her, hung by her wrists above me, several feet from the ground as the dusk turned to twilight and the darkness began to descend.

It had been a relatively warm December day with heavy cloud cover and a deluge of rain. But now she had stopped shaking, in fact she had stopped everything. She hung, swinging gently … lifeless.

Fuck, she looked beautiful, so damn erotic, her nubile body, naked and exposed, beaten and bloody and her breasts punctured by the skewers.

I wanted to leave her like this to suffer the agony of death … but then again, not really.

If it was possible to take this little beauty to that extreme, let her die through her wounds, the infection, the cold and exposure and her shoulders dislocating making me erect for evermore, but then bring her back to life with unflawed health so that we could do it all over again, then that would be just perfect. But alas that scenario only happened in the movies, and in this gloomy wood to the South of Leeds, we were very much in real life!

I needed to take her down and begin the process of recovery and rehabilitation. I chuckled to myself for no good reason save perhaps my general feeling of well-being at having completed my tasks and reached every objective here in the woods.

Moving to the tree where the rope was tied off, I sliced through the tight binding and the complicated knots with my blade, and she fell to the ground. It was a fall of maybe a metre or so, but she landed with a thud and a grunt as the little air she had left was forced from her.

She groaned away to my right as I collected up the rope and put the remnants into my bag before taking it back to the car.

“My Little Girl, I am so proud of you,” I beamed down at her drained, prostrate shape on the wet, mulched ground beneath us, as I knelt by her side.

Her eyes closed. It was the only response I received, but it was enough to make me smirk.

“Come on Little Girl, we need to get you back to the hotel so that I can take care of you.”

Scooping her up into my arms, she groaned and flinched a little as my hold squeezed her body into me, forcing her perforated breasts to push together.

“Sorry girl, but I have to get you into the car,” I said explaining myself to her. She offered no further acknowledgement as I managed somehow to hook a finger into the door handle and click it open.

“In you go,” once more I laid her on the towel.

Looking down I could see that there was no active bleeding from any of the wounds on her front, including the holes where the skewers had been forced into her body. They of course were now no longer apparent, having smouldered fully away, but it was key that the holes were cleansed as quickly as possible. Infection now with

splinters of burnt wood inside her could prove fatal. I checked out the nipple cut and that too had stopped bleeding but it was oozing a little light-coloured puss. That too needed urgent treatment.

Gently I pushed her over onto her side so that I could inspect her back. The cuts here were worse because there were more of them, and I had applied the lacerations methodically prior to exacerbating their severity by lashing the same area of skin with the vicious scourge.

“Fuck,” I whispered to myself as I lightly touched the puffy skin either side of where her skin was split, “Some of these need to be stitched.”

“Come on my darling girl, sit up if you can, I have to cover you.”

She fell into my arms, still largely unresponsive, as I pulled her upright.

I had brought packs of antiseptic Gel sheets and now I placed one over each of the main wound areas, just to provide a germ-free cover until she was back at the hotel. And then I helped her on with a soft pair of yoga pants and a large sweat shirt, over which I slipped an aluminium lined anti-shock blanket around her shoulders to keep her from shivering when the shock of everything attempted to kick in.

Securing her seat belt as she lolled still, her body refusing to wake up, I sighed and moved to the driver’s seat.

Had I gone too far? Could she really take all of this and survive?

Of course, she could. I knew what to do now, it was my job as an experienced trauma surgeon, for fucks sake.

She would be fine.

I switched on the engine and began the short journey back to the hotel.

Part 2 – The Girl

Fuck that hurt.

My wrists are hurting like fuck. My back is hurting like fuck.

I’m on the ground.

It’s cold and wet.

I’m cold and wet and burning and my mouth tastes of blood and I fucking hurt all over and I’m so fucking cold.

He touches me.

His fingers are gentle. He’s finished hurting me. I’m sort of glad, I’m sort of sad.

He hurt me so sexy.

I loved his hurt.

I’m still hurting. Loving his hurting. Loving my pain. Fucking pain. I’m a fucking mess.

I’m cut and burnt and filthy.

My fucking BF won’t believe I did this to myself. I’m a fucking disastrous mess of a girl.

What the hell was I doing?

I don’t know his fucking name. He’s burnt me and whipped me and

hung me on a tree.

Who the fuck is he?

I don’t care.

He’s my torturer and I sort of love him for it.

I’m in the car. So, he isn’t going to kill me. At least now.

I’m so fucking happy. I am so happy. I am so glad he hurt me. I don’t know his name and I don’t care.

I want to be clean and warm and I’m filthy and freezing and I love this soooo much and I soooo want to do this some more.

I’m a crazy fucking girl I think…

I imagine myself hanging there bleeding. I wish I could have seen myself. I think I must have looked so beautiful, so beaten.

I can feel the cuts on my body and the skewers in my tits. I am such a lucky, mad, stupid fucker of a girl.

Part 3 – The Guy

There are plenty of parking spaces at the Village Hotel on the outskirts of Leeds, near to the motorways. ‘Tis the Festive Season after all, although I don’t recall any of what I have done with the girl today being on any Christmas Wish-List that I have ever read … and what we have done this day, my Little Girl and I, can hardly be described as jolly!

But at least there was plenty of parking spaces …

I stopped the car, reversing in between the white lines, before turning in my seat to look at the girl in the back, sitting huddled under the anti-shock blanket, which was doing its best to ward off the shock that was already kicking into her broken body.

She looked back at me, her head moving slowly so that her eyes looked into mine … and she smiled.

She fucking smiled.

Unbelievable, but seeing her pretty face light up just a little was almost as elating as breaking her had been, and she had been so badly broken. The pert, deliciously nervous, confident, challenging teenage girl that had arrived at the hotel just this very morning had been shattered into the silent, semi-conscious, damaged princess in the back of my car.

“Do you think you can walk my sweet angel?” I asked her with a gentle tone underpinning my words, “… because we need to avoid any sort of suspicion as we pass through reception.”

She nodded, and I reciprocated the affirmation back to her. “Okay, good. Wait here while I go check-in and get the key.”

Another smile. No words as yet but the smile said more than a sentence could ever achieve, however I still needed to treat her body with the utmost urgency.

“Fossbrook, Steve Fossbrook …” I answered the receptionist’s question when asked.

“Okay, yep we have you here Mister Fossbrook.”

As a Surgeon I go by the title Mister, which is good because it’s far less conspicuous than Doctor. I used my own name when checking-in just because it was so much easier when it came to credit cards and the like … and in any event I wasn’t looking to do anything wrong now, was I, at least not here!

“Done and sorted, I have our key,” I said to my Little Girl as I opened the passenger door once more, helped her slip on her trainers and assisted as she staggered out of the car.

“We need to leave this behind …” I slipped the Anti-shock blanket off her shoulders feeling the back of my hand brush against the provocative swell of her left breast under the sweat-shirt.

“Th … thank you …” She spoke her first words in a long time as I left her leaning against the car so that I could retrieve her small back- pack and my larger holdall.

As we entered reception I could feel her almost collapsed against me, and so I slipped my arm around her shoulders and hugged her to me as we walked, trying to look as if we were age-mismatched lovers trying to be discreet as we headed to our illicit liaison, which in a dark debauched way we were – if only everyone knew the real truth!

The elevator was empty, thank goodness, and soon I had somehow got us both to room 274 on the second floor. And so, it was with great relief that I heard the door click shut behind us.

The room was large, with a view back out over the car park, and sitting her down in a chair before she fell down, I spoke softly. “Stay there please while I cover the bed with a towelling sheet … we need to keep the room as clean as we can.”

It sounded like I was saying this for medical reasons but the truth was that I simply didn’t want to leave unnecessary traces of our activities behind when we checked out tomorrow.

“Okay good, now I need your clothes off again please.” As I said this, I moved to close the window blinds and curtains, before returning to her and slowly removing the sweat top up and over her head.

“Wow,” I uttered when her wonderful breasts, stained with blood, skewered and burnt, but still well-defined and high with the firm flesh of youth, stared up at me.

“You are beautiful …” I remarked, and there was that smile again. Wonderful!

Reaching down to her hips I nodded at her and began the gentle tug of the yoga pants. She managed to ease her ass up off the seat for just a few seconds as I pulled the pants down and off.

Once again, she was naked, and even now she fuelled the fire of my lust by just simply sitting there.

Most of the antiseptic gel patches had come off as her clothes were removed, but the few that remained I now pulled gently away by hand. They had already begun their cleansing work on her battered body.

“May I drink … pl … please, I’m so thirsty.” Her soft words were heart rending, but I had to reply, “Not yet Little princess. I have a special energy and protein drink for you, which will renew you and make you want to urinate, because I need to see you pee …”

She looked confused, worried again, almost …

“No, no Little One, it’s not for my kicks …” though watching her piss would stiffen my groin, I knew that, “… it’s so that I know your bodily functions are in working order, which is very important, especially following such a severe flogging …”

She nodded allowing me to continue with my words.

“But first we need a shower Little Girl, and I need to wash you down with this.” I produced a plastic bottle from my bag.

“Wh … what’s that,” she asked in whisper, more words finding their way out of her mouth.

“It’s Dettol wash with E45 and Aloe Vera in it …” It was just the best thing for this initial wash.

Reaching back inside the bag I pulled out a ball-gag. Now her eyes widened and her head cocked to one side, looking delightfully confused.

“You need to put this on,” I said with a renewed assertion.

“But, I … please … no … more … not … now …” she begged beautifully, and I laughed.

“No, you silly girl, of course there will be no more torture, and certainly not here in this room. But we have other rooms either side of us and I need the shower to be hot. It will be very painful for you, certainly initially, and I need you to scream into the gag for me, and you will scream believe me, but this way your cries won’t be heard above the sound of the shower.” I attempted a gentle smile to accompany the words and she seemed to relax, allowing me to place the gag, not too tightly around her head, the red ball filling her mouth.

If she looked beautiful before then now, she appeared stunning. Oh, how I wanted her again … but right now there was medical work to be done.

I slipped off my water proofs and then my sweater, shirt and jeans, finally taking off my socks and boxers to leave myself as naked as she was.

Did her eyes flicker towards my semi stiff cock? Oh, how I hoped they did.

“It’s time for us to shower sweet Angel,” I smiled at her once again.

Gripping her upper right arm, I helped her out of the seat and we headed to the bathroom.

Part 4 – The Girl

He leads me through the lobby.

These people, back from shopping or meeting or whatever, they don’t know.

I like that.

He leads me to the room.

I hurt. I fucking hurt. I love hurting.

Ordinary. Dull. View of the car park. So ordinary.

So fucking extraordinary for me.

I hurt.

He asks me to get naked again. He looks at me.

He’s going to hurt me again. He says he isn’t.

He looks at me.

I think I must look beautiful to him, all cut and bruised and fucked up.

I think I am beautiful all like this.

I love this. Looking all cut and sore and full of hurt.

I hurt so much everywhere.

My tits hurt. My back hurts. I’m so cut.

I love being cut.

He gags me,

He says he will clean me and it will hurt and I will scream I want to hurt

I love this so much.

Hurt me again please I am thinking.

Hurt me, you whose name I do not know. Hurt me.

I love this.

I am so tired. He has broken me to pieces. I love him for this. I love my pain. I want to do this so many more times. I want to be hurt by him.

I don’t care about Christmas and my BF and everything.

I want him to hurt me and to torture me and to kill me if he wants I want sooo much to hurt.

I want to bleed and hurt and cry.

I love …

Part 5 – The Guy

I am hard again. Not just hard but achingly erect. The swollen head of my cock keeps brushing her abdomen … and the way her eyes glance downwards I know she wants me, wants it, wants to be fucked … not just metaphorically this time, but truly, properly and wholly fucked!

As the steaming hot water strikes her body, she screams like I knew she would. Palms flat against the wet tiles she cries out into the ball gag, her agony contained in the muffled secrecy of the round rubber ball.

It is a cleansing yell, a cry that begins her recovery in earnest, as the water, unpolluted by unfiltered rain or mulched, muddy leaves, flows through every blade or lash-made opening on her lovely body.

Oh, how she cries out.

I squeeze a palm full of the antiseptic wash into my palm and, as her sobs diminish, I slowly spread the liquid over her back, reaching around her chest to embrace her breasts. Is that a groan?

I lather the wash making sure to clean everywhere, and as my fingers slide down her shining wet body towards her firm ass, I slip my index

finger into the crevice between her cheeks and allow it to slip further down and under, into her soft folds.

I feel her body jerk as her forehead falls to rest on the tiled wall, and slowly I move my finger deeper and deeper within her …

“You are mine now Little Girl,” I whisper into her ear so that she can hear my words above the loud, warm flow from the shower head.

She nods. She knows my words to be true. It turns out that I did have what she wants, and now she wants … no, scratch that … now she NEEDS, more … that was so plainly obvious.

I bring my finger out from the warm, wet depths of her cunt and return to focus on the task of cleansing her body, until I have used more than half the bottle of Dettol cleanser on her skin.

Having turned off the water flow I help her step from the walk-in shower – modern day hotel rooms seem to have huge showers and no bath, which I guess is a sign of the times.

Smiling I reach around her head and remove the gag, grinning as she coughs and splutters into her new found oral freedom.

I’m still hard. So fucking erect. She glances again, then smiles, then bites her lips. It makes me laugh.

“Not yet Little Girl, we have more work to do.” I say, knowing that she is already recovered enough to gaze upon my nudity. I am not a young man, but I do work out and as a surgeon I need to keep my stamina in-tact, and so I was of my own not-so-humble opinion that I was in more than decent shape for a man of my years.

She nods. “Thank you,” she says again. I don’t know whether her thanks is for the torture I gave to her, or the painstaking recovery

process we are now undertaking. It doesn’t matter, because she came to me wanting to be broken. I did that and now we are rebuilding her. Maybe her thanks was for all of the above …

I took her by the hand and led her back to the bed. “Lay down please girl.”

As she shuffled onto the towel, I noticed how she was able to lay, albeit gingerly, on her back. That was a good sign, but I needed now to tend to her breasts.

Taking a small bottle out of my bag I affixed a thin jet spray nozzle to it’s opening. Inside the bottle was Neosporin which would give her pain relief and infection protection.

“I’m not going to anesthetise you so grit your teeth please.” I gently pushed the tip of the small jet spray against one the skewer puncture marks, small holes that were already rapidly congealing with blood, and squirted the antibiotic pain relief into the opening. She groaned as the liquid spray made its way into the flesh of her breast. I repeated the action against each of the puncture marks and then, after covering each with a small, antiseptic plaster, I stood back, and looked down upon her nakedness.

“Fuck it Little Girl, you are so damn beautiful.” As I said this, I allowed my fingers to close gently around my shaft and I began to pull my foreskin back and forth. Once more her bottom lip disappeared under her teeth as she watched my action with an intensity that made her recovering desires only too clear.

I laughed, releasing my grip.

“You need these,” I reached for her cut nipple and squeezed the sides of the laceration together before applying several butterfly sutures, so that the aureole could heal with the minimum of scarring.

“Over please,” I twirled my finger indicating that I needed her on her stomach. Groaning softly, she obeyed allowing me to repeat the suture application to several of the wider cuts on her back. On these open wounds, once the stitches were in place, I put a smaller version of the anti-infection gel pad onto each one.

“There girl, you’re done. Now you may drink.”

I handed her a ‘ProvideXtra’ Energy drink that contained additional protein elements to help not just quell her thirst but also to refresh her dwindled natural resources.

She sat up into the nest of pillows I had made for her and guzzled it down, and then sighed, closing her eyes.

I knelt by her side and touched my hand to her cheek. “You really are beautiful,” I repeated my affectionate words and then I turned her head towards me and moved my lips to hers.

We kissed. I mean we really kissed, like we couldn’t get enough of one another. I used my lips to open hers and she reciprocated the passion with the movement of her tongue … it was delightful, delicious and desire-fuelling, doing nothing to dampen my ardour. My erection was convulsing through its own free will, desperate to be touched …

But, not yet …

“You must sleep now Little Girl …”

“Please,” She said quietly, “Tell me your name.”

I smiled and nodded. “I’m Steve,” I answered softly hoping that I radiated the warmth that was intended.

“Would you tell me yours?” I took my Little Girl’s hand in mine and waited for her to reply.



Part 6 – The Girl

Fuck it’s hot!

I’m fucking burning!

I try to scream but only hear my choked groans and the sound of the shower.

His fingers are in me.

My head bangs on the tiles.

My back and my tits are screaming.

I’m hurting, but not the hurt of the whipping. This is an antiseptic, hospital hurt.

I don’t like this.

He takes the ball out of my mouth.

I’m hurting. I bite my lip and taste my blood. I say thank you to him. I mean it.

But I don’t like this.

The afterwards The hospital bit.

He puts me on the bed, on my back. On my cut up back. He’s going to hurt me. He’s going to clean me up.

So he can do it all again.

So my BF will be nice to me. So I’m not a big mess.

It FUCKING HURTS!

It FUCKING HURTS!

He stitches me up. He’s good. He’s done it before… I wonder…

He kisses me. In my mouth. He can. He deserves it. He can fuck me if he wants to. I don’t care. I need fucking.

My poor fucking tits!

What the fuck have I let him do to me?

I know and I am so happy.

I let him hurt me so bad.

I ask him his name.