The Road Trip Pt. 01

The clock said it had been a long drive, almost an hour and a half since they left home, and it was getting dark. It didn't feel it though. 100 miles of twisting country roads, tight corners, blind crests and the occasional avian obstacle had flown by, one corner leading to the next like a river flowing through a valley. The engine note still filled the evening air as their destination approached. The adrenaline still pumping from the last daring overtake, and corner taken too fast. But the fun was only just beginning. Glancing from the road to his gorgeous, and slightly frightened passenger he asked "Having fun?" with a laugh

"Yeah," she answered, "you nearly killed us both a few times... but it was fun."

"Oh did my driving scare you?" he mocked.

"Yes!"

"Oh... Well if you think that's scary, just wait for what I've got in store for you."

"Wait, what? What do you mean?" she questioned.

Ignoring the question, he pulled the car into a small, empty car park overlooking the beach below. The engine note waned and was replaced by the sound of tires on gravel as the car pulled to a halt.

The driver reached over, and gently held his passenger's face, locked eyes with her and said "This is where the fun begins" and gave her a short, sharp slap across the cheek. Before she could even react to what had happened he was ordering her to get out of the car, and shutting off the engine.

"Out!" he ordered again, seeing she was still in her seat as he opened his door.

Still confused about what was going on, she sheepishly opened her door, and stepped out into the chilly autumn air as he walked around the car towards her.

"It's cooolllddd," she protested, already missing the warmth of the car, "and what the fuck are we doing here? Oh, and why the fuck did you slap me, cunt?" No sooner had she finished her sentence than his hand was raised, and she got another hard hit across her face, leaving a bright red mark on her otherwise pasty cheeks.

"Don't you fucking DARE talk to me like that, brat," he scolded her.

"But..."

"No. No buts. You do as you're told. You need to learn some manners. You've been spoiled recently. Nice restaurants, cute getaways, expensive days out. But no more. You get nothing until you learn your manners."

"I... Okay..." was her only reply.

"Okay SIR," he corrected her. "You refer to me as sir, and only sir. When I offer you something you says 'Yes please sir' when you get it you say 'Thank you sir', you treat me with respect. Do you understand?"

"You don't deserve respect, boy." She spat back, earning herself another slap, before he grabbed her hair and forced her to look him in the eye.

"You're gonna regret that," he told her, seeing the fear grow in her eyes as she felt the bright red mark on her cheeks, "you're gonna be so fucking sore. You're going to be crying. You're going to be red, and black and blue. You're going to be scared, And you're going to have to sit on your bruises all of the way home. So you'll have plenty of time to think about your behaviour."

"W-what, no, I... You don't scare me!"

"I fucking should. You should be scared!" he shouted, inches from her face. Then he pushed her against the car, twisting her arm up behind her back and pinning her there with it, holding her in place as he pulled a small swiss army knife from his pocket, and held it next to her face as he flicked out the blade.

She panicked "What, no, what the fuck is that for? You can't cut me, no, please!"

"Scared yet?" he mocked.

"Yes!" came the reply. "Yes I'm fucking scared!"

"Good," he told her, as he held the blade against her skin and began to cut her t-shirt down the side, the fabric tearing and separating as she struggled, the blade nicking the skin and bringing out small spots of blood when she twisted too far.

"No, please," she begged, but he ignored her and continued to cut way at the fabric until her top was split, hanging only by the sleeve of her twisted arm. "Sir! Please! Is that what you want? To be called sir?!" She begged, "please... stop... stop."

"Good." He growled "You've learned to call me sir, that's a good start. Let's make sure you don't forget it," and he released her arm. "Strip." he instructed her, and she slowly removed the tatters of her top "And the rest" he continued.

"What? No.. no way!"

"STRIP!" he shouted.

"Fuck off, it's cold, and we're in public!" she protested, spinning around to face him with a stomp of her foot.

"Nobody will see. We haven't seen another car in half an hour." He reassured her, taking a step closer.

"No way." she maintained. He grabbed her by the throat, squeezing it hard, as his other hand reached around her back. She struggled and clawed at him, as she felt the strap of her bra undo, and he pulled it off her.

"There's a good slut." he growled, ignoring her nails digging into his skin as he released his grip on her throat.

"I'm not ..." She protested, before thinking better of it, "yes sir". She recalled away from him, covering her dignity with her arms, feeling the cold air biting at her skin, touching the cuts from the knife and looking in horror at the blood on her fingers.

" Turn around," he ordered, "Against the car," and she shuffled over, standing next to it.

"AGAINST the car." He reiterated, pushing her against the metal, before pulling her arms from her chest and holding them above her head, making her squeal as she felt the cold surface against her sensitive skin. "Don't fucking move," he told her as he opened the car's boot, and zipped open a bag from which he pulled a pair of handcuffs and a cane.

She craned her neck to see what he was doing, not daring to move but desperate to see.

"Arms behind your back, slut," he ordered as he marched towards her. Grabbing her arms tight, he cuffed her, making sure she felt the metal dig into her wrists. Once she was helpless he reached around her front, and started undoing her jeans.

"Get off, cunt!" She screamed at him, struggling to get away, earning her a strong slap across the bare skin of her back with an open palm, making her squeal and grunt.

"Please..." She begged.

"Please what?"

"That hurts." She whimpered.

"Oh, this hurts?" He asked, as he slapped her again in the same spot, getting another loud squeal out of her.

"Yes, fuck, it hurts."

"Fucking good," he growled, slapping her again and again, up and down her back, as she struggled and squealed and moaned from the pain. "Had enough?"

"No.. no, I can take it. I'm strong, I can take it. You won't break me," she said defiantly, knowing that would make him angry. Angry enough to grab the cane, and she flinched when she saw him holding it, before he had even began to swing.

"Scared, kitten?" he taunted, as he waved the stick in his hand.

"Y-yes..." she admitted.

"Good." he grunted, as he swung once, hard. The cane made stinging contact with her skin, leaving an immediate bright red line across her pale back, and she screamed, struggled, and tried to pull away from him. But he didn't relent, he swung again and again, each harder than the last, covering her in marks and leaving her shaking and whimpering. He spun her around, to be facing him, her body bending backwards uncomfortably to follow the shape of the car she was against. Every inch of her back burned when the cool metal and glass touched it. He saw the tears running down her cheeks, taking makeup with them, and grinned.

"Having fun you little whore?" He asked, bending down to be at her eye level.

"No... It hurts, it hurts so bad."

"Oh does it?" He asked, wrapping his hand around her throat "does it hurt?"

"Yes." She whimpered, holding back tears.

"You fucking love it though don't you, slut?"

"Yes..." she admitted, growing more panicked about his hands ever tighter grip on her throat. "Yes sir" she corrected herself.

"Do you want more?" he asked "Do you want me to hurt you more, slut?"

"No, no more, please" she begged, struggling for air between words.

"Try. Again." He growled, squeezing tighter around her neck, and watching her eyes grow wide.

"No sir.. No I don't want more," she struggled.

"LIAR" he shouted, dropping the cane to give her a hard slap across the face with his free hand "One. Last. Chance" he told her, as he grabbed her nipple in his hand.

"Oww, no, not there," she protested, as he gave it a gentle tug and watched her get angry from it. He tugged harder, staring into her eyes, awaiting her answer.

"Yes... okay... yes...I love it... please sir... more..." She admitted, each word using up precious air from her burning lungs. But he didn't react, he kept her there, one hand around her neck, cutting off her air supply, the other pulling on her nipple and sending pain shooting through her with every twitch and deep, desperate breath. He kept her there like that until her eyes grew wide, until she was going dizzy and she couldn't focus, until her heart was beating as hard as it could just to keep her conscious. He finally released her when she got to the very edge of passing out, and was going weak.Then he gave her a hard slap across the face, bringing her back to her senses, before spinning her back around and pushing her face once more into the metal of the car roof. His hands wandered down her body, running his fingers over each painful mark, making her flinch and moan and pant. They continued down to her bum, and grabbed it, before they followed her hips to the front, and he began to undo her jeans again.

"No... c'mon...please," she pleaded, exhausted from her beating.

Ignoring her protests, he undid the button, and slid the zipper down, making sure to keep a tight grip on her with his strong arms. She tried to kick at him, but lost her footing and wobbled, only being held in place by him, as he slid the denim down her legs, to her knees, exposing her shaky thighs and round little butt. She whimpered softly as his hands ran over the exposed skin, and whimpered louder when he dug her nails in and dragged them over the skin of her legs. Her breathing grew faster and sharper as he cupped her bum in his hand, lent over her, and bent down to put his mouth right next to her ear. Nibbling it and tugging on her lobe with his teeth he whispered, "Ready?"

Without waiting for a reply he drew his hand back, and slapped her hard across the back of her thigh, then the other, then the first thigh again. Back and forth he slapped her, ignoring her whimpers and squeals, until every bare scrap of skin was burning and red.

"Please, no more." She begged, through tears and sharp breaths

"Had enough?" he asked

"Yes!"

"Too bad." he grunted, and pulled down her underwear, baring everything, and he took the cane in his hand.

"No, please sir, you don't need to do this," she pleaded, "you don't need to cane me, I'll be good, I'll remember my manners. I promise."

"No, I don't need to do it," he agreed, "but I want to. I want to make you hurt, I want to make you cry. I want to bruise you and mark you and give you a beating you won't forget. I want you to be in agony the whole drive home, I want you to see the marks I've left on you for days. I. Want. You. Broken."

All she could do was whimper, as he teased her with the tip of the cane, dragging it up and down her thighs, over her bum, between her legs, before he drew it back and smacked it into her, where the thigh meets her bum, sending shakes through her whole body and making her squeal and struggle in the cuffs. Once she'd stopped shaking he drew back again, and left another mark further down her thigh. Then another. Then another, until her whole thigh was red and sore and burning and she could hardly stand on it. Then he took aim at her other leg, starting from the knee he whacked her hard, and worked his way up and up, to her bum, each contact making her squeal and cry. Until there were tears running down her face, until her throat was raw from squealing, and she couldn't bare the pain any more.

"Pleassseeee," she begged, desperately, "I can't I can't take it anymore."

"If you can't take it," he asked her, "then what the fuck are you good for? If you can't take a beating you're no fucking good as a sub, and if you're no good as a sub then what fucking use do you have?"

She tried to reply, but she couldn't think of the words, her brain was too full of pain to think straight, instead she just sobbed uncontrollably and let tears pour out of her onto the car. But he didn't stop, he didn't even hesitate, he drew the cane back and hit her again, across her butt, leaving a red mark across both cheeks and making her squeal louder than any before. Then again. Then again. repeatedly, mercilessly he struck her, until she collapsed fully onto the gravel, trying in vain to support her weight using anything she could, but everything was gone. She was broken, totally. She had nothing left to give, no more fight, no more energy. All she could do was lay crumpled at her master's feet, crying helplessly into the gravel, hiding herself away from everything.

"Done?" he asked.

"Yes... fuck..." Was all she could manage.

"I'm not" he grunted, swinging the cane down at her. Standing over her he swung again and again, hitting her arms, her torso, her legs, her bum, anything he could reach as she writhed around desperately on the hard gravel floor. Curling up into a ball at her feet she cried loudly.

He dragged her up, holding her by her shoulders, leant in close and grunted "it's Yes SIR by the way. You never fucking learn" into her face, before dropping her again.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry sir" she pleaded, tears pouring down her cheeks into the dirt. "I can't... I can't take any more."

"Get up" he demanded, but she was too weak. She tried, she grunted and struggled but she couldn't find it within herself to even get to her knees never mind stand. So he opened the car door, and then grabbed her again, picking her small frame up in his arms. After harshly brushing and loose gravel from her body, he threw her onto the back seat.

"Oww" was all she could say as she collapsed into the seat, her whole body broken and hurting. After pulling her jeans back up and covering her torso with a spare hoodie, he strapped her into into her seatbelt, leant in close and said,

"We'll finish this when we're home."