"This isn't play time with little boyfriend. Forget about your life. It's over." He ignored the sob. "I don't mean you're going to die, stupid; I mean the life you knew is over. You're my toy now. That is all you are. My pet. My slave, my whore. I will teach you to obey. You may come to love it; you may come to hate it. That's of no concern to me. None at all. But I will tell you this." He leaned close again, so that she could feel his hot breath on her face. "Don't you ever pull away, don't you ever try to resist me again, for any reason, or you will pay. Dearly. Am I understood?"

His voice was cold, and though his lips formed a smile, it didn't make it to his eyes. Gina felt a hot, sharp finger of dread drag through her innards. She felt the swoon of a faint coming over her again. Gordon grabbed her by a fistful of hair said, "If you faint again, Gina, I'll revive you in a way you'll find most unpleasant. Enough Victorian bullshit. Stand up."

Gina stared at him, her eyes wide, her mouth trembling. But she knew instinctively that there was no room for negotiation. Stumbling a little, the poor naked young woman stood up next to her mattress. Gordon took her chained wrists firmly in one hand and raised her arms high above her head. Before she could react, he had secured the chain to a conveniently placed hook in the ceiling.

Gina squeezed her eyes shut, moaning in fear. "Nice tits, if you go in for that sort of thing." Playfully, Gordon tweaked one of Gina's nipples. The nipples were small and pale pink against her even paler white skin. From his pocket Gordon produced two wooden clothespins. "A bit small," he said critically, as he twisted one nipple between rough fingers. Gina gasped but when she pulled back it only increased the tension on her nipple. She tried to stay still. Gordon released the nipple, which now stood at attention, in contrast to the other nipple. Gordon liked symmetry, and so he pulled and twisted the other nipple until it too stood at dark pink attention.

"Good. They enlarge nicely when provoked," he said aloud, though he wasn't speaking to the girl. She was simply an object for his present amusement. "Now, I've devised a clever little game. It's called rotation. I use it when I don't want to mark someone, or when I really want to watch them suffer, over and over and over again. Every time that pin is rotated the pain increases significantly. The advantage of this particular torture is that it inflicts severe pain without actually cutting the flesh. Much more effective than clamps, and certainly more cost effective." He smiled cruelly, and while Gina watched, eyes wide in terror, he pushed one clothespin open. Pulling her nipple taut and away from her body, he let the clothespin snap down onto the extended nubbin.

Gina screamed and jerked away, but the clothespin was tightly coiled, and stayed clamped on her nipple, bobbing slightly as she pulled back. "Very nice," Gordon nodded, pleased with the effect. Then he took the second pin and quickly pulled her other nipple, letting the pin snap closed upon it just as he had the first.

"Stop! Stop, stop, stop! What are you doing to me! Please, God! It hurts! Stop!"

"It's supposed to hurt. Now shut your mouth, or I'll use that nasty duct tape on it again. Do you want that?"

Gina shook her head, quieting to a whimper. Her eyes were moist and pleading. Gordon felt his cock stiffen in his pants. He loved that look of helpless terror. He loved knowing he was the cause of it. And now for the real pain. Taking each clip in hand, he squeezed, releasing the grip on Gina's breasts. As the blood flowed back into her now tender nipples, she hissed involuntarily.

Turning the pins at a new angle, Gordon clamped her flesh again. After about 15 seconds, he released the pins, and again Gina's nerves were stimulated and she felt the pain afresh. Over and over again he clamped and released her poor nipples, till they had gone from pale pink to bright cherry red. Gina was moaning, her head back, eyes closed. Her nipples looked so pretty and erect that Gordon couldn't resist a little bite to each one. Now they glistened with his kiss. His cock was painful in his pants and he adjusted it slightly.

Gina looked almost asleep now, slack in her bonds. But her heavy breathing gave her away. He would wake her up with his next remark. "Now I'm going to give you your first whipping. At least I assume it's your first?" His laugh was low and cruel. Producing a small riding crop from his jacket, Gordon lightly smacked Gina's pert little breasts, thoughtfully avoiding the distended nipples. Gina begged him to let her down, but her cry fell on deaf, or at least indifferent ears.

The sound of the hard leather square of the crop against soft skin made a smacking echo in the mirrored room. Each smack was punctuated by Gina's cry. From all angles the mirrors reflected the naked plump young woman, dark hair tumbling about her shoulders, high breasts raised further by her arms extended over her head. Gordon brought the crop down against her ass, making it jiggle. He liked to see the big ass turning pink as it bounced. Gina twitched and tried to move out of the way, but of course she could not, bound in chains and restrained as she was.

When Gordon began to use the crop on her back, Gina's cries doubled in volume and pain. Her ass, at least, was protected by ample padding, but her back was more sensitive and the stinging blows were peppering her flesh. As she turned in an effort to avoid the crop, it caught her neatly across one nipple. Her cries became a wail of agony and tears began to seep from her eyes, which were squeezed shut in fear. Gordon knew that smack to the nipple must have felt like fire. But he also knew that this was not a particularly severe beating - any moderately trained slave could have taken it in silence without a whimper. Except for that one blow to the aching nipple.

But Gina was not a slave, not yet. She hadn't even begun to imagine what it was to suffer. But she would learn, and quickly. Gordon was a devoted teacher. He laughed at this silent description of himself and began to whip her harder, smacking her belly, her sex, her back, her ass, her thighs. Gina began to dance involuntarily, squealing and jumping in an effort to avoid the sharp, stinging blows. She was crying and begging, but this only seemed to spur Gordon on, and his blows became harder and harder, leaving angry red marks all over the virgin's body.

When at last he stopped, Gina was bathed in sweat. She felt a warm stream of something rushing down her leg and horrified, realized she had wet herself. Gordon realized it too. "You filthy pig," he snarled, his voice dripping with disgust. Roughly he pushed her to the mattress, leaving her wet with her own urine, to cry herself to sleep.

"Tomorrow," he promised, as he locked the door behind him, "your real training begins."