Hit her harder!

CHAPTER TWO

At that moment Roberta Jean Richardson was sitting on a barstool in THE GOLDEN GREEK'S BAR AND GRILL AND BOWLING LANES, a beer and shots joint on the southern-most edge of Painted Post, Pennsylvania.

Roberta Jean Richardson was a tall woman, standing close to five feet ten inches. She was a blonde bombshell, with all of her curves in the right places. Roberta Jean, as they say, was broad where a broad was supposed to be broad. She was an Amazon woman, tougher than most of the men in town, yet her face and her body were achingly beautiful. Her muscles, though well-toned and somewhat bulky, were not the slightest bit unattractive.

It was obvious to everyone who looked at Roberta Jean that she had put in a lot of work at the local spa to keep herself in fine shape.

She had grown up with a domineering father and a drunken mother.

She had learned how to fight early – since she had nothing but older brothers, and it was a skill that had gotten her in a hell of a lot of trouble during the twenty years she had been on the earth. Her tits were huge.

She had a chip on her shoulder, mostly because of the merciless teasing she had received from the other kids in grammar school and high school because of her mother's constantly inebriated state.

The teasing had stopped once Roberta Jean started kicking ass. The trouble was that Roberta Jean Richardson did not know when to keep her fists to herself.

It seemed that she was always starting a fight and there was more than one member of the community that thought it was pretty Goddamned amazing that Roberta Jean Richardson had never spent time in prison.

The problem only got worse when Roberta Jean was drinking, which was why the bartender, Joey, was keeping a close watch on her on this particular night.

Joey was going to get Roberta Jean Richardson's ass out of the bar and back onto the street at the first signs of trouble.

He figured he would, in this manner, keep Roberta Jean from hurting herself or others. More likely others.

Sitting beside Roberta Jean at that moment was her very best friend Bertha.

Bertha Klemmer.

The woman was not a calming influence on Roberta Jean. Not at all. Roberta Jean's equally tough friend's appearance on the bar stool next to the blonde at the bar did not make Joey the bartender feel any better.

This was double-trouble as far as he was concerned.

Bertha was famous in and around Painted Post, Pennsylvania for her many tattoos which literally covered her body.

Her hair was dark.

Cut short.

Butch.

In spite of the fact that it was a Friday night, the bar was not crowded. There were a couple of guys shooting eight ball, and some girl that looked like she was still in high school, wearing tight jeans, kept playing the jukebox. Everything was calm. The calm before the storm.

"Another beer?" Joey asked Roberta Jean. His voice was low.

"Sure, fill her up. I want this to be the sort of night I can't even remember in the morning." Roberta Jean said.

"Bertha?"

"Yeah, fill her up. It'll be a cold day in hell before I can't chink with Roberta Jean one for one," Roberta Jean's equally tough friend said with a toothy grin.

Joey could see that there were gaps between Bertha's teeth.

Roberta Jean was wearing some tight jeans herself on this night. Her denim trousers were so tight that they left nothing to the imagination. Anyone who cared to look could clearly see the cleavage between Roberta Jean Richardson's buttocks – not to mention the cleavage between her vaginal lips in front.

Roberta Jean's jeans were so tight that they had to be peeled on and off. The muscular and super tough blonde bombshell's jeans were so tight that they looked as if they had been applied with a can of dark blue spray paint.

They were not designer jeans, but cheaper imitations of the same.

Roberta Jean did not have money for fancy clothes. She had been born poor and she had stayed poor. Roberta Jean Richardson was hardly a little girl who had been born with the silver spoon in her mouth.

The spoon in Roberta Jean's mouth had been copper – and reeking of poverty. Roberta Jean Richardson was poor white trash.

"You feeling okay?" The blonde bombshell's heavily tattooed buddy asked, leaning toward the blonde a bit as she spoke. Joey served up the beers and took the money out of the pile that had already accumulated in front of the pair of tough broads on the bar.

Joey pretended not to listen as he served the drinks.

But the tops of the bartender's ears were burning, and he couldn't help himself. He had to listen.

"Take a hike," Bertha said.

"I'd rather kill you than look at you," Klemmer said to the bartender, and he quickly retreated.

"Yeah, I feel okay. Why wouldn't I feel okay?" Roberta Jean said.

"I thought maybe you were still upset about Harv…"

"SHIT! I don't fucking want to talk about him, Bertha!"

"Right."

"That motherfucker is going to pay one day," Roberta Jean Richardson said, hammering a clenched fist onto the bar so hard that it made the head of her beer spill over the side and roll down the glass.

"Easy."

"I have never been so mother-fucking humiliated in all my mother-fucking life," Roberta Jean Richardson said.

"You're getting loud," Bertha Klemmer said in a soothing tone.

"I'm sure I don't give a fuck how loud I get," the blonde said.

"Yeah, okay, suit yourself," Bertha said, sipping her beer calmly.

"Imagine him leaving me. He deserves to die," Roberta Jean Richardson said.

"What about the chicks he dates from now on?" Bertha asked.

"They fucking deserve to fucking die too!" the blonde said.

"I see. We are going to be busy," Bertha said with a throaty laugh. Bertha Klemmer lit a non-filter cigarette and took such a deep drag that it made her squint.

She coughed a little as she exhaled and spit a clam on the sawdust floor.

Just then the door opened and Tammy walked in. Bad timing.

Tammy Cunningham was Roberta Jean Richardson's sworn enemy. Tammy was tough too and many times the pair had fought long drag out battles which inevitably ended in a draw.

Roberta Jean seethed at the sight of Tammy Cunningham. Tammy seethed at the sight of Roberta Jean Richardson.

They had fought their first fight in the fourth grade and things had been downhill as far as their relationship was concerned ever since.

"Roberta Jean, Bertha," Tammy said as she entered.

"Fuck yourself," Roberta Jean muttered into her sudsy brew.

Tammy Cunningham pretended not to hear. She had fire-red hair piled up on top of her head and hips that weren't what they once were. As Roberta Jean Richardson liked to say, "Tammy is going Crisco. FAT IN THE CAN!"

Tammy took a seat at the far end of the bar. Tammy ordered herself a beer and a shot. Tammy Cunningham winked at Joey as he served her. He filled the shot glass to the brim, past the little black line that measured out a perfect fluid ounce.

The redheaded and loud-mouthed local barfly knew a secret and she was never very good at keeping secrets. Roberta Jean's much-despised and sworn enemy was particularly bad at keeping secrets when they concerned the blonde.

"Joey, you'll never guess who I saw tonight driving down the main strip," Tammy Cunningham exclaimed.

"Who?" the bartender inquired, his eyes lethargy filled.

"Harvey Henderson. What a panic!" Tammy exclaimed.

Roberta Jean's head snapped toward the redhead for a moment and then she quickly stared back into her beer, watching the little bubbles rise to the surface where they popped one by one.

"You want to know why it was such a panic?" Tammy asked the bartender.

"Not really."

"Well, I'm going to tell you why anyway," Tammy said.

Bertha sensed a fight. Bertha Klemmer tensed the muscles in her arms. Roberta Jean's equally tough friend made several tattoos stretch and ripple as she tensed her muscles. The blonde bombshell's heavily tattooed buddy had a sixth sense when it came, to trouble. Of course, it took no intuition to know that there was going to be trouble when Roberta Jean and Tammy Cunningham found themselves seated at the same bar.

Since there were only three bars in all of Painted Post, Pennsylvania, this happened more frequently than Joey, the bartender, would have liked.

Beads of sweat formed across the bartender's brow.

It was obvious to the hayseeds shooting eight ball that the bartender was a hell of a lot more nervous than any of the women involved in this potentially violent tension.

Off in the distance they could hear the thunderclap roar of bowling balls rolling down, alleys, then the crash of scattered pins. The bar would fill up once the Friday Night Bowling League had finished up.

"It was a panic because Harvey wasn't alone," Tammy said.

Roberta Jean turned her head toward Tammy once again, and this time she kept her head turned. Roberta Jean Richardson was squeezing her glass so hard that it was threatening to shatter in her fist. The muscular and super-tough blonde bombshell was squeezing her beer glass so hard that each and every one of her knuckles had turned white.

"You want to know who he was with?" Tammy Cunningham asked.

"Tammy, please, shut up," Joey said, sweat now pouring from his face.

"No, no, no, no, no, I want to tell you who Harvey Henderson was with. This'll kill you. He was with that little mouse of a babe, Sheree Messmer, and I can't be sure – but it looked to me like they was headed straight up toward Sex Hill!" Tammy said.

"That does it!" Roberta Jean Richardson said, lifting her glass and hurling it at Tammy Cunningham's head. The glass narrowly missed and shattered against the wall behind the redhead, near the entrance to the Men's Room.

"Girls!" Joey shouted.

"You are a fucking big-mouth bitch," Roberta Jean said.

"Ohhhhhhh, Roberta Jean, I forgot you and Harvey used to go out. That is, until he DUMPED you!"

"You are going to eat those fucking words, bitch, and they are going to taste like my knuckles!"

"I ain't scared of you, cunthole," Tammy Cunningham said to Roberta Jean.

"Let's get her," Bertha said.

"You stay here. This is between her and me," Roberta Jean said.

"Take it outside!" Joey said. But it was too late. Roberta Jean and Tammy were already headed toward one another.

It was a collision course.

Roberta Jean grabbed a handful of Tammy's red hair with her left hand and shot a right fist right into Tammy Cunningham's belly. The punch had enough force behind it to double the redhead over. Tammy Cunningham folded to a ninety-degree angle at the waist, jack-knifing sharply with the intensity of the blow.

Tammy Cunningham reached up with her left hand and clawed her long red fingernails across the side of Roberta Jean's neck. Three lines of blood appeared, frightening close to Roberta Jean Richardson's jugular vein.

"I am going to kick the fucking shit out of you," Roberta Jean said.

"Yeah, you and what army?" Tammy Cunningham inquired.

"I am going to take care of you with me and my two friends. My fists," Roberta Jean Richardson said.

"You are nothing but a puddle of vomit," Tammy said. The redhead let loose with a right cross that caught Roberta Jean flush on the jaw.

Roberta Jean turned her head a little at the last possible second, but the punch still caught her enough to send her reeling backward.

"You are a puddle of monkey shit," Roberta Jean said.

"You are the scum from a retards asshole," Tammy Cunningham said.

"You eat the scum from retards assholes," Roberta Jean said.

Roberta Jean punched Tammy right in the nose. Blood began to flow from the redhead's right nostril, rolling down over her heavily lipsticked lips.

Tammy Cunningham let loose with a lightning quick left jab that caught Roberta Jean on the lower lip. Now they were both bleeding from the base. Roberta Jean felt savage. She grabbed Tammy Cunningham by the arm and bit her so hard that she broke the skin.

"Owwwwwwwww," Tammy Cunningham hollered at the top of her lungs.

Tammy Cunningham threw Roberta Jean up against the wall and temporarily knocked the wind out of the blonde bombshell.

"Take it outside!" Joey, the bartender screamed. The hayseeds who had been playing eight balls stepped back and began to cheer for their favorites. Roberta Jean grabbed Tammy Cunningham and threw her against the pool table. Tammy Cunningham was bent over backward across the green felt, her head moving the eight ball, as Roberta Jean Richardson punched her in the face repeatedly, throwing combinations of right and left hands. Tammy Cunningham finally managed to push her off and punched Roberta Jean Richardson right in the left tit. The tit felt soft and her fist sunk deep into the globular mammary gland on Roberta Jean's chest.

Roberta Jean kicked Tammy Cunningham in the cunt.

Tammy got Roberta Jean Richardson in a head lock.

The redhead squeezed so tightly that Roberta Jean feared for a moment that her skull was going to be crushed. There was a frightening moment or two when Roberta Jean Richardson thought her eyeballs were going to come popping right out of her head.

The muscular and super-tough blonde bombshell managed to break free and grabbed Tammy Cunningham by the neck. The large-breasted and long-legged troublemaker dragged Tammy Cunningham toward the door. She knew that if she busted up the place too badly she wouldn't be allowed in the bar anymore, and he needed a place to drink. The Lord knew that Roberta Jean Richardson needed a place to drink.

They went out the door together and out onto the street.

Bertha followed. Bertha Klemmer told herself that she was going to jump in, just in case Roberta Jean looked like she was taking the worst of it. Roberta Jean's equally tough friend, however, could see that she had nothing to worry about. The blonde bombshell's heavily tattooed buddy could see that Roberta Jean Richardson had this particular fight well in hand.

"Give it to her, Roberta Jean!" Bertha cheered loudly.

Tammy Cunningham legs gave out on her and she crumbled to the pavement, but Roberta Jean did not stop. The blonde pounced on the redhead and continued to beat her.

She beat Tammy Cunningham until the redhead went limp.

"Leave her alone, now. She's done," Bertha exclaimed.

"NO! I ain't fucking through with her," Roberta Jean said.

"What are you going to do, KILL her?" Bertha asked.

"No, close, but I don't think I'll kill her," Roberta Jean said.

"What are you going to do, Roberta Jean?" Bertha asked.

"Help me drag her into your car, Bertha," Roberta Jean said.

"Why?"

"We are going to take her back to my place," Roberta Jean said.

"Why?"

"I already told you, I ain't through with her yet."

"What are you going to do to her?" Bertha Klemmer asked.

"I am going to tie her up, and then, yes, then I am going to abuse her. I am going to make her burn. I am going to give her a good old-fashioned lesson in human nature. Oh yeah, oh yeah, I am going to give her something that she ain't never going to forget."

"Sounds like fun," Bertha said.

Roberta Jean and Bertha dragged Tammy into the backseat of the tattooed lady's car. The doors were slammed shut.

Bertha got behind the wheel.

Roberta Jean sat shotgun.

Roberta Jean Richardson kept an eye on Tammy in the back, to make sure that she didn't wake up. The back of Tammy's head had taken quite a crack against the pavement.

"She looks like she is going to be snoozing for awhile," Roberta Jean said.

"I hope you didn't kill her."

"No, she's still breathing."

"So far."

Roberta Jean laughed.

"For her, the worst is yet to come," Roberta Jean Richardson said.

They drove directly to Roberta Jean's small shanty at the edge of town. The shanty had three rooms, indoor plumbing and was made of wood. There were no neighbors within a quarter of a mile. There would be no need to gag Tammy. Roberta Jean and Bertha could let Tammy scream all she wanted. No one was going to hear the bitch wailing her lungs out.

In pain!

"Help me drag her inside, Bertha," Roberta Jean said.

"Right. I'll take her feet and you take her arms," Bertha said.

The two young women, being very strong, had no trouble transporting Tammy into the shanty where they dropped her hard onto the living room floor. THUNK!

"Where now?" Bertha asked.

"The bedroom."

"What are you going to do to her?" Bertha asked quickly. There was a note of concern in the tattooed woman's voice – as if she feared that hanging out with Roberta Jean Richardson on this particular evening connoted biting off more than she could chew.

"We are going to abuse her, like I said," Roberta Jean said.

"Are we going to sexually abuse her?" Bertha inquired.

"Is there any other kind?" Roberta Jean asked with a throaty laugh.

"I guess not. I am not sure that I want any part of this."

"Chicken-shit."

"Don't start with me, Roberta Jean. I'm your friend."

"You don't have to do anything if you don't want to. You can just watch," Roberta Jean Richardson said.

"I think I am going to split," Bertha said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other nervously.

"Suit yourself. At least help me get her onto my bed first."

"Okay – then I am leaving," Bertha said firmly.

"Fine – be that way."

Once again Roberta Jean and Bertha lifted the unconscious redhead. They carried her into Roberta Jean's bedroom and flung her onto the bed. Tammy bounced up and down a couple of times before coming to a rest on her back in the center of the mattress.

Tammy was getting blood all over Roberta Jean's bedspread. The tall and muscular blonde bombshell did not give a shit.

"I'm leaving," Bertha said.

"See you," Roberta Jean responded.

"Don't do anything you'll regret later," Bertha said.

"Doing things I am going to regret later is what I do best."

"Call me later – just to let me know how you are," Bertha said.

"Can do."

Bertha left.

Roberta Jean was alone with Tammy – her latest victim. Her latest SEX victim.

Roberta Jean Richardson had been looking forward to this moment for a long time. She finally had Tammy where she wanted her – after many, many years of waiting.

Tammy began to wake. Tammy Cunningham moaned. The recently rendered submissive redhead opened her eyes and winced.

"All right, cocksucking bitch, you are finally going to get what you got coming to you," Roberta Jean said.

"Roberta Jean…"

"That's right. You are in my house now and I ain't going to let you go until I have had lots of fun with you."

Tammy Cunningham tried to sit up.

She was too weak.

She fell back down onto the bed and groaned. Blood had coagulated on her upper lip.

Roberta Jean reached down and tore Tammy's blouse right off of her body. Rrriiippp! Tammy wore no bra.

Her tits were exposed.

Roberta Jean Richardson pulled off Tammy's spiked high heels and then yanked off her pants, pulling her panties off in the process. Roberta Jean could see that Tammy's pubic patch was the same color as the hair on her head.

The color of fire!

"I am going to tie you to the bed, and then I am going to whip the living shit out of you," Roberta Jean said.

"Please, Roberta Jean, give me a break," Tammy Cunningham said.

"I'll teach you to talk about my boyfriend in public."

"He isn't your boyfriend anymore, Roberta Jean," Tammy said.

Roberta Jean slapped Tammy across the face six times.

Roberta Jean Richardson slapped Tammy Cunningham three times with the palm of her hand and three times with the knuckles at the back of her hand – three times on either of Tammy's already bruised cheeks.

The bed had four bedposts which made things very convenient for Roberta Jean's bondage purposes. Roberta Jean went into the other room and fetched a coil of copper wire and a pair of wire-cutters. She cut off four evenly-lengthen pieces of wire. Tammy was every bit as naked as the day she was born.

Roberta Jean grabbed Tammy by the left forearm, the redhead still on her back, and she gripped so hard that Tammy called out with pain. Roberta Jean dug her fingernails right into the flesh of Tammy's forearm, coming very close to breaking the skin.

Tammy felt as if she were caught inside a bear trap.

Roberta Jean pulled the redhead's left arm back over her head toward the bedpost at the left side of the head of the bed.

Roberta Jean pulled so hard that Tammy once again called out with her suddenly acute physical discomfort.

Roberta Jean pulled so hard that Tammy half expected to hear her bones snapping – at either her wrist or at her elbow – at any second. Roberta Jean Richardson pulled at the redhead's arm so hard that there was a frightening moment or two when Tammy thought her shoulder was about to be ripped out of its socket.

Roberta Jean pulled Tammy's arm taut, so that it was locked in the straight position at the elbow. Tammy could feel reality drifting back into her head.

Her head hurt like hell.

She thought her nose might be broken.

Now there was new pain to deal with.

Roberta Jean wrapped one of the pieces of copper wire around Tammy's wrist and the bedpost at the same time, making a figure-eight with the wire as she wrapped it around and around.

Naturally enough, Roberta Jean Richardson wrapped the wire around Tammy's wrist as tightly as she could.

Tammy could feel the wire cutting into her wrist flesh.

Tammy Cunningham could tell that the wire was going to leave an ugly red ring around her wrist, a ring that was going to take days to fade even after the bondage was removed.

IF the bondage was removed.

Tammy had no way of knowing whether or not she was ever going to see the light of day, again. For all the redhead knew the blonde was going to kill her right there on the bed after stringently binding her with wire.

The wire was around Tammy's wrist so tightly that she could tell the circulation of blood to her hand was being, completely cut off. Tammy Cunningham could tell without looking that the tips of her fingers were turning a deep purple color – the color of a man's cock head when his prick was thoroughly engorged with the hot blood of his masculine arousal.

Roberta Jean's sworn enemy could feel pins and needles in the tips if her left fingers, and she was smarty enough to know that she was not going to be able to feel those pins and needles for very long.

She knew that it was not going to be long before she wouldn't be able to feel anything at all in the tips of her fingers. Or, in her entire hand, for that matter.

Tammy could tell that Roberta Jean's bondage was soon going to render her entire hand feelingless. Tammy Cunningham tried to wiggle her fingers at the knuckles, and discovered, to her dismay, that she could only do this with an ever-increasing amount of difficulty.

Her knuckles were getting stiffer.

And stiffer.

And stiffer.

The recently rendered submissive redhead could tell that soon she would not be able to wiggle her fingers at all. Soon, she could tell, her entire hand was going to be rendered both feelingless and motionless because of the stringent bondage Roberta Jean Richardson was so cruelly administering just then.

"Please…"

"Please what, you cocksucking little bitch slut?"

"Please have mercy on me," Tammy Cunningham begged.

"Ha!"

"You laugh."

"Mercy? Mercy! HA! I don't even know the meaning of the mother-fucking word," Roberta Jean Richardson said.

"Oh God…"

"Face it,cunt, God ain't here. It's just you and me."

"Ohhhhhhhh…"

"And I am the mistress of the devil himself, cunt!"

Since the head of the bed was pushed flush against the wall, Roberta Jean had to circle all the way around the foot to get to the other side, so she could repeat the process with Tammy's other arm.

Roberta Jean Richardson took long and surprisingly graceful strides as she walked around to the other side of the bed. Tammy watched this movement and thought that Roberta Jean looked like a wild animal, a wild jungle beast in heat, encircling her helpless prey.

And that was very much how Tammy Cunningham felt at that moment – like Roberta Jean Richardson's helpless prey.

Tammy tried to kick and struggle with her legs and her one free arm for a moment, but not for long. Each and every muscle in Tammy's body hurt and her joints felt stiff – as if they were badly in the need of oil.

"Tonight is a night you are never going to forget, Tammy."

"You are going to pay for this, Roberta Jean!" the redhead said.

"If I were you, cocksucking bitch, I would be more polite."

"Shit!"

"Face it, babycakes, I got you right where I want you. I got you right by the mother-fucking short and curlies," Roberta Jean Richardson said with a laugh.

"Fuck!"

Roberta Jean repeated the process with Tammy Cunningham's right arm, once again locking her elbow in the straight position, once again tying the wire around her wrist so tight that the circulation of blood to her hand was completely cut off.

It was not very long at all before Tammy could not feel any more in her right hand than she could in her left.

Tammy remained still on the bed, preserving her energy.

Tammy Cunningham's legs were stretched out toward the foot of the bed. She had her knees and her ankles close together. The recently rendered submissive redhead correctly assumed that Roberta Jean Richardson was not going to allow her knees and ankles to stay close together for very long. Roberta Jean's sworn enemy watched as the blonde moved to the foot of the bed.

Roberta Jean stared at Tammy Cunningham's pink pussy.

Her tits.

Her flat belly.

Her tapered thighs.

Roberta Jean Richardson then jack-knifed sharply at the waist and reached down with straightened arms to grasp both of Tammy's ankles at the same time.

Roberta Jean gripped at Tammy's ankles so hard that her knuckles whitened. Then, with a single outward swoop of her straightened arms she pulled Tammy's legs apart.

Roberta Jean looked for all the world as if she were making a wish over a human wishbone as she did this.

Roberta Jean pulled Tammy's thighs open past a ninety-degree angle to a slightly obtuse angle with that single motion.

Roberta Jean then quickly wired the redhead's ankles to the bedposts at the foot of her bed. Roberta Jean tied Tammy's ankles every bit as tightly as she had her wrists. Tammy could see her toes turning a dark shade of purple. Soon she couldn't wiggle her toes any better than she could wiggle her fingers. Soon she could feel anything from the ankles down. The wire was cutting deeply into Tammy's ankles, hurting her worst of all at the anklebones.

"Now you are going to be whipped, cunt," Roberta Jean said.

"Please don't do that to me," Tammy Cunningham begged.

"The more you plead, bitch, the more I want to hurt you."

"I'll scream. I'll scream my fucking head off!" Tammy said.

"Go ahead."

"You don't care?"

"I don't give a flying shit, Tammy," Roberta Jean said.

"How come?"

"We are put in the middle of nowhere, remember?" Roberta Jean said.

"Oh, yeah."

"Oh, yeah. No one is going to hear your fucking screams."

"What, what are you going to whip me with?" Tammy asked.

The redhead found it difficult not to stammer as she spoke.

"I am going to use a black leather belt, cuntbreath!"

"Ohhhhhhhh, you are going to cover me with welts!"

"Yeah, you cocksucking bitch, that it the whole idea!"

"Don't you want to whip my other side, my ass and back?"

"If I wanted to do that I would have bound you on your belly."

"But…"

"That's right, you scumsucking cuntface! I am going to whip your tits!" Roberta Jean Richardson said.

"Noooooooooo!" Tammy Cunningham screamed hysterically.

Tammy could never remember being so frightened before.

The redhead could feel fear filling her belly. There felt as if there were about a million fluttering butterflies inside her tummy. Those butterflies felt as if they were flopping around on top of one another, filled with anxiousness. Those butterflies were anxious to get the hell out of there!

Tammy Cunningham could feel the blood rushing from her face.

The redhead could feel her complexion becoming pasty. She was pale with fear. This paleness even changed the color of the freckles that sprinkled across the bridge of her nose. Her complexion suddenly reminded Roberta Jean Richardson of buttermilk.

Tammy could feel perspiration oozing from each and every pore on her naked body. The sweat was cold.

Like ice.

She was sweating the icy perspiration of her unadulterated fear.

"I can feel the wire cutting into my skin," the redhead screamed.

"Good."

"I can feel the copper wires actually breaking my flesh."

"Yes."

"I can't feel anything in my hands or my feet!" Tammy screamed.

Tammy began to toss her head from side to side wildly.

"Good. I want to render you completely helpless!"

Tammy's shook her head from side to side with reckless abandon.

"I want to render you completely hopeless, Tammy," Roberta Jean Richardson said with an evil laugh.

Tammy shook her head from side to side as if she were purposefully attempting to injure her rather slender neck. Her big tits were heaving up and down on her chest.

Her nipples were erect. Tammy Cunningham's nipples were stiff with fear and terror rather than with lust and passion, Roberta Jean Richardson understood.

The recently rendered submissive redhead realized that she could no longer move any part of her body. The bondage was unadulteratedly stringent. Roberta Jean's sworn enemy realized that the only part of her body that she could move was her head. She could lift the sore back of her head from the bed a little bit if she wanted to, and, obviously, she could still turn her pain-contorted face from side to side. But she tried to keep her head still from this point on. She tried to conserve her energy. Tammy Cunningham correctly assumed that she was going to need all of the pooled energy she could muster before Roberta Jean Richardson's sado-masochistic sex session was complete.

"I am going to get you back for this, Roberta Jean."

"What did I tell you before about being polite, bitch."

Tammy shut up.

The redhead came to the conclusion that this was not the time to mouth off. There would be plenty of time for revenge – but this was not it.

Roberta Jean shook her ass from side to side as she left the foot of the bed and walked over to her closet. She opened her closet door. Tammy Cunningham turned her face in that direction so she could see what the blonde bombshell was doing.

Tammy Cunningham could see that there was a full-length looking glass mounted with screws onto the inside of Roberta Jean Richardson's closet door.

Roberta Jean got up on her toes and reached onto the top shelf of the closet. She found what she was looking for.

The belt.

The whip.

It was black.

Genuine leather.

It was the only genuine leather article she owned – if you don't count her softball mitt.

The tall and muscular blonde bombshell swung her hips from side to side and laughed contentedly to herself as she returned to the side of the bed holding the belt in her right hand. She folded the black leather strap in half and held it by the buckled end. She cupped her left palm. Roberta Jean then slapped the belt HARD across her slightly cupped palm and created a sharp sound. The sound alone was enough to make Tammy Cunningham wince. The sound reminded the redhead of the sound of a firecracker, a cherry bomb, going off on the Fourth of July.

The sound reminded Tammy of a gunshot, a shotgun blast.

The sound reminded the redhead of an old pick-up truck backfiring out on Interstate 17! The sound alone was enough to frighten the stringently bound female.

The sound frightened Tammy Cunningham because she knew this was the same sound the belt was going to make when it came down across the hypersensitive flesh on the front side of her feminine physique.

Roberta Jean was in no hurry to get started. The blonde bombshell was smart enough to know that dread was an important part of any torture.