While she was hanging like this, by her tits, she could squeeze her thighs. That helped her - to be able to do this. She was able to give herself little shots of pleasure. She didn’t know if the big black bastard knew what she was doing, and she didn’t give a monkey’s fuck if he did or not. It was ‘her’ thing. She didn’t have to share anything with him, or with any of these other blacks. She just didn’t. That was her not thinking again. That was her in denial about her life, her body and her mind not being hers anymore. That was her trying to carry on regardless. That maybe was Gwendoline’s last line of defence. And yet it was a last line of defence that was about to be cruelly and painfully blown away.

Gwendolyn made a noise. She made several of them in a long string. And yet there were no words attached to those noises. Nothing decipherable anyway. But in one of those moments of pure clarity, she had caught sight of The One. And it wasn't the sight of him that had made that string of noises that had spilled from her lips. Rather it was the sight of what he was holding, or what he was carrying, what he was dragging. The bullwhip was not a fake, or not one that was just for show. It was the real deal. The weight of it as The One held it by its leather plaited handle end made it curl menacingly on the floor behind him as he dragged it. It was almost a lazy way that he walked with this long, tapered leather whip behind him. And a closer look at the business end of that whip, the single tail’s end of it would reveal that this whip was fully loaded with a little stainless-steel ball bearing pellet that would add a severity and a speed to that whip as it was used. It was a simple but lethal addition. Like a weapon that was fully loaded.

One would have to ask if there was anyone in the modern world who could actually use one of these whips. After all, they were an instrument of correction that had to have technique applied to them. It would take practice and skill in order to apply this whip to good effect. There was no doubt that the whip itself was the real deal, but it was also a fact that not just anyone could pick it up and use it the way it was meant to be used. The One wasn’t just anyone though. This was a man who had secrets in his head and in his mind. He was a man whose origins were sketchy and mysterious to say the least. He was a man who had amassed sadistic and sexual skills beyond the normal. If there was anyone who was skilled and precise in the use of this whip, then it was this man.

And that was the thing. The One was effortless with that whip. It took a precise technique to get it to ‘crack’. And it took accuracy and precision to make that steel loaded tip to sink into the flesh that he wanted it to sink into. He didn’t even begin the whipping of Gwendolyn straight away. He didn’t seem rushed in the slightest. If there was any thought that this was a sadist who should be eager and dribbling at the thought of causing this woman as much distress and pain as possible as soon as possible then it couldn’t be further away at this point.

Gwendoline had been suspended in the middle of this huge picture window room overlooking the city from Docklands and so he could circle her like some wild animal might circle its prey. And he was doing it slowly. It was as though he was measuring his distances. He stopped every so often as though he was making calculations in his mind. The distance he was away from the breast suspended white bitch. The effort he would have to put into his wrist actions. The speed at which that little stainless-steel ball would be traveling when it impacted the flesh. It was like his mind was working all the time but like it was working casually. Like it was all coming to him naturally, effortlessly.

And that was the key word, effortlessly. He was there to do a job and pretty soon the job would commence. His face was expressionless - as though he was in some kind of ‘zone’ or other. And then all of a sudden there was that ‘crack’ as he tested the whip in the air. That would have put Gwendoline on edge. The sound of that cracking whip a sign of the speed that the ball bearing was traveling at. But it wasn’t coming anywhere near her flesh yet. That was just to put her on alert. That was simply The One testing the device, testing the bull whip. Testing its weight and listening to that sound and him making more deductions from that. Knowing what he had to do.

In the event the whip cracked in the air again, just before it curled around Gwendoline’s waist. The ball bearing slapping into the flesh just above her belly button. There was this weird vacuum created - between that crack and that slightly dumbed down miniature thud of that little ball, and the screaming sound that came from Gwendoline. And it was a vacuum - like one of ultra slow motion without sound. But when that scream came it wasn’t like a scream at all. It was more than a scream. It was something that came from way beyond this woman’s mouth and her throat. It could have come from her soul. She was shocked at the pain and her body, and her mind had reacted accordingly. She had tensed in her suspended bondage. And she had tried to thrash against that bondage. But that simply transferred more pressure through her breasts. She was hanging by her breasts, and by her full weight through her breasts and so added pressure caused immediate pain.

Gwendoline couldn’t thrash. She couldn’t do anything except hang there. The rubber ball gag had long since been taken away, so she was free to scream to her hearts content. The shock of that first lash of that bullwhip would have pretty much taken any fight out of her. The only outlet she would have had was to scream and then scream again. Maybe someone would hear her? Maybe someone in the building would hear her screaming and call the police or security, or something. She couldn’t possibly know that this whole penthouse apartment, the whole lot was soundproofed and privacy assured. She couldn’t possibly know that. How could she?