Free For the Pleasure of Men by Nora Weaving

the thick belt he wore around his waist. She let out a cry of protest, but it was too late. She already heard the loud whooshing of the belt and then the resonating crack as it made contact with her skin.
    “Argh!” she cried in pain, reeling from the hit. It was far from pleasurable. Her skin throbbed with pain and she felt her eyes fill with tears.
    Spyro grunted and hit her again, his breath coming hard, excited.
    Kalliope screamed again. “Stop! Please! It’s too hard.”
    “Shh,” Spyro crooned, moving beside her as he pushed his hands into her pussy. To Kalliope’s horror, she was wet. Spyro's fingers were crooking and thrusting in a way that made her chest heave with desire.
    “No,” she cried quietly as she felt the pleasure wash over her.
    “Yes.”
    Spyro removed his hand and then moments later whipped her again.
    “Stop! Please!”
    Spyro's fingers were back in her pussy, pleasing and tantalizing her with their luscious strokes. Kalliope rocked on her knees, her hands fighting against her restraints. Her body was spinning in a thousand directions and her mind couldn’t keep up with the whiplash of pleasure and pain. Confusion grew as Spyro beat her again, then rubbed her in such a way that she came hard, shaking and crying out, tears flowing down her face.
    Spyro continued to rub her sex even after she came, murmuring words of how much she liked it and how she couldn’t resist his wicked ways. Kalliope’s body was spent, and she felt perspiration line her skin.
    “Admit it. Admit you like it.”
    “No!” she cried out in anger and bewilderment. “That’s enough! Untie me!”
    “Oh, you wretched girl. I’m not finished yet!” This time his voice was cold and hard, and Kalliope felt fear as Spyro moved behind her. He reared up and spanked her again, and Kalliope screamed from the pain, all pleasure gone after her orgasm.
    Spyro hit her again, and then once more.
    “No! No! Stop!” she shrieked.
    Suddenly she heard a shout and then a scuffle. Spyro was no longer behind her.
    “Haven’t you done enough, you sick bastard?” yelled an angry male voice. She heard Spyro yell at the voice and she could tell that the men were fighting.
    “Get out of here, scum! And you can be sure I’ll be telling Priska about this!”
    “Fuck you, Damianos. I pay good money to fuck these whores, and if I want to have a little fun with a new slut, then I will.”
    Kalliope lay tied to the bed, her backside exposed and raw, sobbing.
    “Shh, please don’t cry,” the comforting voice said, whom Kalliope could only assume was Damianos. He reached up to untie her arms, and as soon as Kalliope was free, she scooted upright, wincing loudly when she pulled her peplos over her backside.
    She looked up at the man who had rescued her, and her heart stopped. He was the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on. His skin was rich and warm. He had incredibly full lips, and he had long wavy dark hair that fell to his shoulders. But the most striking feature was his alarmingly blue eyes. His eyes were as bright and blue as the sky and Kalliope had never seen such a shade before.
    “I’m Damianos,” he said in a low voice and Kalliope could only stare at him. “Are you OK?” he asked, and Kalliope snapped out of it. She nodded shakily, but her hand instinctively went to her bottom. “May I?” Damianos asked and Kalliope hesitated, but then nodded. She rolled gently onto her stomach and she felt Damianos lift her dress up.
    “That bastard,” he spat. “He’s beaten you pretty badly. I think you’re going to need to see the healer here.”
    Embarrassed, Kalliope pulled her dress down and quickly jumped off the bed. Her entire backside throbbed and she knew that Damianos was right. Spyro had done more than just spank her—he had beaten her.
    “Please, what is your name?” Damianos asked. Kalliope found herself tongue-tied as she tried to speak and angrily though that Damianos must think her simple.
    “I’m