Sylvia Amdur – The Unconquerable Heart:

Sylvia’s sacrifice – Part -1 – From our book,

‘The Unconquerable Heart’

6 a copy
Content is graphic – Not for the faint hearted..

The Perseverance of Compulsive Love:

Tretan had removed his overcoat and tie and he sat idly on a Sofa that was on an elevated dais. He sipped a peg of absinthe –his favourite drink and stared at Sylvia who stood coyly before him, below the dais, holding her hands to her front. She was anxious and her heart palpitated. She wore a sleeveless round neck white top with large black-chequered stripes, black coloured pants and three-inch heeled shoes. It’s been ten minutes since he’d ordered her to stand in front of him and Sylvia’s idle mind conjured up various possibilities of what he could do with her. Tretan was in absolute ‘POWER’

‘Lose those pants.’ Tretan ordered pointing at her holding the glass in hand.

Sylvia coyly removed her pants and stood holding her hands to her front, avoiding eye contact all the while. She no longer harboured the unbeknownst guts that had superseded her psyche when she signed the agreement. It was now all Sylvia Amdur, her normal coy self.

‘Panties, too.’ Tretan hissed maintaining a firm eye contact.

Sylvia hesitatingly proceeded with obliging the orders. She had been prepping herself up for the dark day since a fortnight. ‘After all, it’s not my soul, just my body.’ she concluded the whole time.

‘There must be a hobble skirt. Go get it.’ Tretan ordered.

Sylvia meekly proceeded to the closet and looked for a skirt. While there was no whole skirt, there was just one backless leather skirt, which was just big enough to cover, only the fringes of her backside and it had Velcro straps running all across its backside from top to bottom. Sylvia picked the skirt, proceeded towards Tretan and stood before him calmly.

‘Why don’t you speak up, Sylvia Amdur?’ Tretan asked in a low gruff tone.

‘Mr. Bliecher, I prefer to stay silent.’ Sylvia said.

‘Filthy bitch! Did you forget your code?’ Tretan thundered. ‘You signed to address me as Fuhrer this night, and you will…’

‘Sorry, Fuhrer. I will do so.’ Sylvia said meekly

‘That’s like a good gal. Come hither.’

Sylvia walked up to the dais. Tretan took the skirt from her hand and ordered her to turn around. Sylvia obliged and Tretan proceeded with covering her lower half with the flimsy leather hobble skirt. He held the skirt in place around her waist and fastened the horizontal Velcro straps on the backside one by one. Sylvia’s ass cheeks were clearly visible through the straps.

‘Now go, get me a bull whip.’ Tretan ordered again.

Sylvia understood that she was going to be flogged soon, the thought of a leather lash bruising her delicate body made her shudder in fear. But then she’d signed up for a maximum of six whip lashes and she had to endure the pain no matter what. The hobble skirt really hampered her leg movement and she limped her way to the closet to fetch the bullwhip. Tretan voyeuristically looked at her half naked rear as she limped across the room. The sight of her fleshy rear wobbling out of the tight Velcro straps gave him a high. Sylvia picked a bullwhip from the closet and brought it to Tretan.

‘You know, bitch,’ Tretan said receiving the bullwhip. ‘You’re the cheapest to submit to me.’

Sylvia stayed silent. It didn’t matter what he called her. She’d resolved to stay firm and calm, no matter how much ever he eventually would antagonize her psychologically and physically.

‘Go, stand near the cross, facing the wall.’ Tretan ordered.

Sylvia meekly obeyed, walked to the other end of the room and stood near the St. Andrews’s cross facing the wall. Tretan finished the last sip of his fourth peg of Absinthe and approached Sylvia near the cross. He then fastened her legs and hands to the straps of the cross.

‘You know why I called you cheap, bitch?’ he asked.

Sylvia stayed silent.

‘You will answer me, bitch, or else the agreement doesn’t stand good. You signed it.’ Tretan threatened.

‘Sorry, Fuhrer. Please let me know why you called me cheap.’ Sylvia tried to be obedient as possible as she didn’t want Tretan to go back on his word.

‘You are cheap, coz I paid you only a penny as per our agreement.’ Tretan laughed wickedly. ‘The bout is gonna fetch me millions of dollars, and you ain’t getting nothing, except a little satisfaction, maybe. Your man crawled right up there, but he’s gonna fail for sure.’ he laughed again.

‘He’s not gonna fail,’ Sylvia murmured to herself. ‘-and the satisfaction is more than enough for me, anyways. It’s immeasurable, and it’s me who’s buying here, not you, you sleazy piece of shit.’ She had the perfect answer at the back of her mind, but she wouldn’t dare to utter it as she meant business too. No disparaging comment, however slanderous it may be, was gonna make her answer back tonight whatsoever and it was her firm resolve.

Her silence spiked Tretan’s anger and he unleashed a strong lash upon her frail body.

‘Aaarrrggghhhh!’ Sylvia cried in pain. The whip circled her waist and buttocks tearing apart the lower half of her top and bruising her belly and buttocks. Her delicate skin got ripped wide open and red blood gushed out of the bruised line making it a pitiful sight to watch.

‘How do you feel that, huh?’ Tretan cracked the whip creating a miniature sonic boom. Sylvia’s body involuntarily shuddered at the sound of the cracking whip, but her mind stayed stiff.

‘That’s for making me a demon in front of the whole wide world.’ Tretan then quickly unleashed two more lashes on Sylvia. Both the lashes landed on her upper torso circling and bruising her breasts and back. Her top and bra completely tore apart and fell to the floor exposing her upper half completely.

‘These are for making me lose to that bastard, Ethan Chapman.’ Tretan shouted wickedly even as Sylvia writhed and cried in pain.

Tretan then flung the whip to the floor, neared Sylvia, caught her head by her hair, pulled it back firmly and looked straight into her eyes, ‘Now am gonna be generous with you and forgo the other three lashes, cause you’ve come cheap.’

Meanwhile, outside in the lobby, Miranda sat anxiously on the sofa, she was herself going through a visible living hell. Despite the air conditioner, she sweated profusely – her hands shivered, she’d even gulped down a couple of anti-depressants but they just successful in numbing her senses a little, she was still very much conscious of Sylvia’s ongoing suffering. She repeatedly went through the images of the BDSM equipment, from the room that she clicked on her mobile, and visualized horrific instances of pain Tretan could inflict on Sylvia with the help of those tools. Suddenly her mobile rang, it was Hazeem and she was in no mood to talk to him, anxious and uneasy, she switched off her mobile and completely shut herself off from the outside world.

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