I was crying even harder now, begging him to let me alone… begging him not to do this.

But his response was simply to keep jiggling the buckle of his belt… wrapping it around his hand, I realized, looking at his reflection in the window of his car.

He was slowly coiling it around his palm. His fingers were all stretched out straight, and he was just standing there, calm as anything, casually wrapping that belt around them.

When he had a little over a foot remaining, he stopped.

I felt my ass muscles starting to tense up, but I thought that might make the pain even worse…

And besides, I wasn't even sure that he would hit me there.

He might decide that there were more painful spots to whip me on.

I couldn't believe this was happening.

I really couldn't believe it… but it was, and for some reason, I didn't feel like there was anything I could do about it.

That's the kind of hold he had over me.

Don't ask me how… don't ask me why I allowed him to have such a hold over me, that he could command me to submit to degrading and humiliating punishment, but he could… and I allowed it.

I watched in the window as his arm raised.

He was starting to remind me of the kind of demented half-crazed demon you see in movies with names like "Killer On The Loose" and "The Town That Dreaded Sundown" and "Bloodlust" and things like that.

He was breathing hard, and he was breathing through his nose, which made the sound even louder.

I felt more and more paralyzed by the fear that I was feeling.

My legs got weak. I felt the muscles shaking… trembling… and I was afraid that they wouldn't hold me up.

He swung the belt.

The pain bit into my nerves, rushed to my brain, and I felt like hot lava had just been poured over my body.

He swung again, bringing the belt down across my back.