Free The Long Day of Revenge by D. P. Adamov Page B

straightened.
    “Oww. Owwwww. This hurts. It hurts. I hate this!”
    Ignoring her cries, Manolo continued to smack away at her behind, watching the red marks start to rise. She was becoming welted from the blows, glowing with obvious soreness.
    “Ow! I hate this! I hate this! Ow!”
    Manolo still offered no verbal response, but continued to administer a severe strapping with his belt.
    “Ow! Oooooo! Oooooo!”
    After what must have been the twentieth blow, he backed off to examine his handiwork, relishing the damage he had caused. Assuming it was over, Lucinda stood upright and started to rub her burning ass, but her massaging did little to relieve the flames within.
    “We aren’t done yet,” he announced, bringing a horrified whine from Lucinda’s lips. “Get up on the bed in doggie style and get your ass in the air.”
    Obediently, Lucinda mounted the bed and knelt on her hands and knees. Her rear end flared red, in contrast with the rest of her body. Her flesh was ablaze.
    “Noooo. Please…”
    Manolo went back to work with the belt, striking both her bottom and her upper legs.
    “This is what you get for making me come too soon. You’re being punished.”
    Lucinda was no longer able to utter words, but only anguished sobs. Once more, her body rocked with each hit, as if she was doing some form of exercise rather than reacting to the intense onslaught of blows falling upon her.
    Manolo was in his moment, loving this.
    “You’re going to learn to be an effective lover. You’re going to learn not to make me come too soon. If you hadn’t been so into what I was doing to you, and I cannot say I blame you, I wouldn’t have come early. Now, how does this make you feel? Does it feel good, too? It makes me feel good when I punish you.”
    Lucinda was still unable to issue a response aside from pained wails.
    “Take this. Take this. Take this.”
    The last set of whips were fast and furious, bringing even louder cries from the victim. Finally, it came to an end and she fell face forward on the bed, with her hands rushing backward to fan the flames within her blistered behind.
    Exhausted, Manolo climbed over her and fell on his own face within the mattress.
    Together, they said nothing. Manolo burned with passion, but Lucinda writhed in pain.
    “Now I’m ready to face the bulls,” he piped out at long last. “Why don’t you let me get some talcum from the suitcase and put it on your ass?”
    “I’ll get it myself,” Lucinda complained. “I’m gonna be lucky to be able to sit down today thanks to you.”
    “I guess I’ll just have to do something on the sand to keep you standing,” he responded. “You and everyone else.”
    Without another word, Lucinda rolled off the bed and inspected her backside in the dresser mirror, shocked at the reflection that greeted her. Her ass was turning purple.
    “Jesus Christ,” she finally tittered. “Jesus Christ, why do I put up with this?”
    Manolo pretended to ignore the remark, shutting his eyes and envisioning himself before the horns. He was so caught up in his dream world, he barely heard Lucinda go into the bathroom and shut the door. He assumed she was going to lie on the floor and cover her own ass with talcum powder, tending to herself as she often did after being whipped.
    For a moment, he considered his behavior and her reaction to be a bit abnormal, but quickly shrugged off the thought.
    There were more impressing matters at hand.
    Much more important.
    There were bulls to be killed in Tijuana.
    His only lament was not the ass whopping he had inflicted upon his lover, but the fact that one of the bulls this afternoon was not the hated Gaditano.

Chapter Seven
    Ever since the Tijuana episode, Lucinda had been more and more defiant about being spanked. She was also traveling less and less. She was likewise unenthused about the idea to move to Mexico City and indicated staying in Agua Prieta was more to her liking, but a session with a scrub brush had