Heated Butt Hotel part 3
ipes!” she said with great enthusiasm.
Shizi’s eyes went wide with fear as Xiuliu lifted the martinet. He had heard stories of this device, but the reality was so much worse. The first blow was like a bolt of lightning, striking him with a force that made him scream. Each second that followed brought another searing stripe of pain, and his body bucked against the restraints.
For three minutes, she rained down her punishment, her arm moving with the precision of a metronome. He squirmed and writhed, trying to escape the relentless sting of the leather tails. After twenty seconds of this agonizing torment, his resolve broke. "Please, Miss Xiuliu, no more!" he begged, his voice cracking with pain.
Her response was a cruel laugh that sent a shiver down his spine. "Oh, you're just getting started, sweetheart," she said, her voice dripping with mockery. "You're so lucky I'm only hitting your naughty bottom. Imagine if I was to use this on your tender neck, your back, or even your poor little feet." Her words painted a picture of pain so vivid that he could almost feel the sting in those places.
But it was the thought that came unbidden to her mind that had his heart racing in a mix of terror and arousal: what would it be like to feel the martinet on his most sensitive areas? The sadistic glint in her eye told him she was considering it, and for a moment, she traced the tails lightly over his genitals, watching his reaction with a smug smile.
Xīliú Gēng zhě couldn't resist the temptation to see the boy squirm under her power. She momentarily halted the spanking, and dragged the tails of the martinet over his shaft and testicles, watching his face contort in a silent scream. He jerked against the restraints, his eyes squeezed shut as if that could somehow shield him from the pain. But she was just teasing him, for now. Her true intention was to break his spirit, not his body.
Xiliu continued whipping and Shizi continued screaming, until he received 180 lashes in 180 seconds. With a dramatic flourish, she dropped the martinet to the floor, letting the sound of it echo through the room. She picked up the mahogany paddle with the 18 holes, holding it up for him to see. "Do you know why a paddle like this hurts so much, Shizi ?" she asked, her voice a mix of curiosity and amusement.
Shizi’s eyes widened as he took in the instrument of his impending pain. He knew he had to answer correctly, or face the consequences. Drawing on his knowledge of physics from his school days, he managed to get out a shaky, "It's because...because the holes reduce air resistance, making it swifter. And they...they make the impact area smaller, so the pain is...more intense."
Xīliú Gēng zhě's smile grew wider, revealing perfectly straight teeth. "Very good, Shizu," she said, her voice dripping with a mix of patronizing praise and sadistic anticipation. "You're a smart boy. But let's see if your theory holds water."
With that, she raised the paddle high above her head and brought it down with the force of a sledgehammer, the first blow landing directly on his left buttock. The pain was explosive, like a firework going off inside him. .
Shizi’s scream filled the air as Xiliu brought the paddle down again, and again, alternating cheeks with each strike. The holes in the wood created a whistling sound as it sliced through the air, a sadistic symphony that seemed to crescendo with every impact. His body jolted with each hit, his muscles tensing and releasing in a futile attempt to escape the relentless barrage.
He felt the heat radiating from her hands, the power behind each swing, and the way his skin rippled as the paddle made contact. The sound was a dull thud, muffled by the flesh of his buttocks, but the pain was anything but. It was as if a sledgehammer was pulverizing his backside, each blow more explosive than the last.
"You're killing me!" Shizi screamed after the twelfth hit. "It's too much! It's torture! Please, Miss Xiuliu, stop!" His cries were desperate, but she didn't miss a beat. Instead, she laughed, her eyes alight with a sadistic glee that sent chills down his spine.
The Chinese lady's arm swung like a pendulum, delivering blow after blow to his already bruised and swollen bottom.
Shizi's eyes rolled back in his head, and he lost count of the strikes. The pain was so intense that it seemed to have transcended reality, becoming a part of him. He felt like he was floating, adrift in a sea of agony, unable to find the shore.
Shizi faintly heard Xiliu say, "You've had fifty, little one. Only fifty more to go." But before she could deliver the fifty-first blow, his body had had enough. With a final, desperate gasp, he passed out cold, his head lolling to the side, his body going limp.
Xiuliu studied him for a moment, her breathing heavy from her exertion. She set the paddle down, her eyes lingering on the red and swollen flesh of his bottom, already decorated with a mosaic of purple and yellow bruises. She felt a twinge of something like pride - she had truly broken him, and yet there was still so much more to come. With a gentle sigh, she unbuckled the stocks and lifted his limp form off the table, redressing and carrying him effortlessly to his designated bedroom.
The suite was as luxurious as any other in the hotel, with a four-poster bed draped in silk sheets that smelled faintly of jasmine. She laid him down with surprising care, his body limp and lifeless. His breathing was shallow and uneven, a testament to the pain he had endured. She knew that when he awoke, he would be in agony, but she also knew that the lesson she had taught him would be one that he would never forget.
With a graceful stride, Xiliu walked over to the sink in the adjoining bathroom. The water was cold and crisp, just the way she liked it. She took a deep gulp, feeling it soothe her parched throat. As she drank, she couldn't help but smile at the thought of the boy's impending punishment. It was a thrill she hadn't felt in a long time, the power to shape someone so utterly to her will.
When she returned to the bedroom, Shizi was still unconscious, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of sleep. Xiliu couldn't help but admire the way the light from the afternoon sun cast shadows across his bruised and swollen bottom. She approached the bed and began to tie his wrists to the wooden posts with the silk sheets, ensuring that the knots were tight but not cutting off his circulation.
Her heart raced with excitement as she took in the sight of his bare, vulnerable body. This was the part she enjoyed the most – the moment before she woke him and the reality of his punishment set in. With a gentle hand, she caressed his cheek, her thumb brushing against his full, pink lips.
"Wake up, Shizi," she whispered, her voice a sweet caress that seemed to cut through the veil of unconsciousness. His eyes fluttered open, and she could see the panic in them as he took in his surroundings. The fog of his mind cleared, and the pain came rushing back, a tsunami that crashed over him and left him gasping for air.
"It's time for the last fifty,” Xiliu said, her tone a mix of satisfaction and anticipation. He struggled against the restraints, his eyes wild with fear. But it was futile. He was at her mercy, and she had no intention of letting him go until she had finished her task.
Xiuliu approached the bed with the same mahogany paddle that had painted his bottom with a mosaic of pain. She watched his body tense as she raised it, the muscles in his abdomen tightening in a futile attempt to protect himself. With a swift, precise motion, she brought it down on his right cheek, the impact echoing through the room.
Shizi’s scream was like a siren, piercing and desperate. His eyes watered, and he bit down on his lip so hard it bled. The pain was a living, breathing entity that consumed him, and he felt powerless to resist it.
One by one, the final fifty strikes of the paddle fell upon his bruised and tender flesh. Each blow seemed to hit a new, untouched part of him, sending waves of agony through his body. He thrashed and bucked against the restraints in a futile attempt to escape the relentless assault.
Finally, it was over. The last strike echoed in the room, and Xiliu stepped back, admiring her handiwork. His buttocks were a swollen mess of purple and red, the perfect canvas for the next phase of his punishment. With a deft twist of her wrist, she undid the last knot holding him to the bed.
Shizi collapsed onto the mattress, panting and sobbing, his body a symphony of pain. Xiliu stepped back, giving him a moment to catch his breath before she disappeared out the bedroom entrance.
When she returned, she was carrying a small, white porcelain bowl filled with a creamy substance. The smell of buttermilk filled the room, a stark contrast to the coppery scent of blood and sweat that had been left in the air by the paddling. Her steps were light as she approached the bed, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.
Shizi’s eyes snapped open as he felt the cool touch of the substance being spread over his bruised skin. He winced and whimpered, but she shushed him softly, her voice a strange mix of kindness and authority. "This will help with the pain, my dear," she said, her hands working in slow, deliberate circles over his buttocks.
The cream was thick and fragrant, the scent of lavender and mint wafting up to his nose. It was cooling against his fevered flesh, and as she continued to spread it on, the pain began to recede like a retreating wave, leaving behind a pleasant tingling sensation. He watched her through his tears, his vision blurred, as she dipped her hands back into the bowl, her movements precise and methodical.
With each stroke of her hands, the pain lessened, and the tension in his body began to dissolve. He couldn't help but feel a strange sense of gratitude towards her, despite the agony she had just inflicted. It was a twisted dynamic, but one that seemed to be the norm in this place.
When the bowl was empty, Xiliu stepped back, her hands glistening with the remnants of the buttermilk cream. She nodded in satisfaction at her work before setting the bowl aside. "Good boy," she murmured, her voice a gentle caress in the aftermath of the storm.
Shizu couldn’t believe the sudden tenderness in her tone, but he was too exhausted to question it. He felt a strange sense of relief wash over him, his body craving the comfort she offered.
Xiliu returned to the room after a few minutes, her expression unreadable. In her hands was a glass of ice-cold watermelon juice, the kindness of the gesture a stark contrast to the pain she had just inflicted. She held it to his lips, her eyes watching him intently as he took small, tentative sips. The cold liquid soothed his dry throat, and he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope.
After ensuring he had finished the entire glass, she set it aside and leaned over him, her breasts pressing into his face. "When you're 18," she whispered into his ear, "You can feel these jugs bare! For now, we have to stick to this." She took his head and gently rubbed it against her soft, warm yukata-covered breasts. The fabric was smooth and comforting against his bruised cheek, and despite the pain he felt, Shizi couldn’t deny the strange comfort it brought him. It was a twisted form of nurture following the harshness of his punishment, reinforcing the complex web of emotions he had become entangled in.
With a final, lingering caress, Xiliu straightened up and stepped back from the bed. "Rest now," she said firmly, her eyes gleaming with a mix of satisfaction and something else - perhaps a hint of affection? "When the manager calls for you, you will go to her. Do you understand?"
“Yes ma’am!” Shizi replied.
Shizi’s eyes went wide with fear as Xiuliu lifted the martinet. He had heard stories of this device, but the reality was so much worse. The first blow was like a bolt of lightning, striking him with a force that made him scream. Each second that followed brought another searing stripe of pain, and his body bucked against the restraints.
For three minutes, she rained down her punishment, her arm moving with the precision of a metronome. He squirmed and writhed, trying to escape the relentless sting of the leather tails. After twenty seconds of this agonizing torment, his resolve broke. "Please, Miss Xiuliu, no more!" he begged, his voice cracking with pain.
Her response was a cruel laugh that sent a shiver down his spine. "Oh, you're just getting started, sweetheart," she said, her voice dripping with mockery. "You're so lucky I'm only hitting your naughty bottom. Imagine if I was to use this on your tender neck, your back, or even your poor little feet." Her words painted a picture of pain so vivid that he could almost feel the sting in those places.
But it was the thought that came unbidden to her mind that had his heart racing in a mix of terror and arousal: what would it be like to feel the martinet on his most sensitive areas? The sadistic glint in her eye told him she was considering it, and for a moment, she traced the tails lightly over his genitals, watching his reaction with a smug smile.
Xīliú Gēng zhě couldn't resist the temptation to see the boy squirm under her power. She momentarily halted the spanking, and dragged the tails of the martinet over his shaft and testicles, watching his face contort in a silent scream. He jerked against the restraints, his eyes squeezed shut as if that could somehow shield him from the pain. But she was just teasing him, for now. Her true intention was to break his spirit, not his body.
Xiliu continued whipping and Shizi continued screaming, until he received 180 lashes in 180 seconds. With a dramatic flourish, she dropped the martinet to the floor, letting the sound of it echo through the room. She picked up the mahogany paddle with the 18 holes, holding it up for him to see. "Do you know why a paddle like this hurts so much, Shizi ?" she asked, her voice a mix of curiosity and amusement.
Shizi’s eyes widened as he took in the instrument of his impending pain. He knew he had to answer correctly, or face the consequences. Drawing on his knowledge of physics from his school days, he managed to get out a shaky, "It's because...because the holes reduce air resistance, making it swifter. And they...they make the impact area smaller, so the pain is...more intense."
Xīliú Gēng zhě's smile grew wider, revealing perfectly straight teeth. "Very good, Shizu," she said, her voice dripping with a mix of patronizing praise and sadistic anticipation. "You're a smart boy. But let's see if your theory holds water."
With that, she raised the paddle high above her head and brought it down with the force of a sledgehammer, the first blow landing directly on his left buttock. The pain was explosive, like a firework going off inside him. .
Shizi’s scream filled the air as Xiliu brought the paddle down again, and again, alternating cheeks with each strike. The holes in the wood created a whistling sound as it sliced through the air, a sadistic symphony that seemed to crescendo with every impact. His body jolted with each hit, his muscles tensing and releasing in a futile attempt to escape the relentless barrage.
He felt the heat radiating from her hands, the power behind each swing, and the way his skin rippled as the paddle made contact. The sound was a dull thud, muffled by the flesh of his buttocks, but the pain was anything but. It was as if a sledgehammer was pulverizing his backside, each blow more explosive than the last.
"You're killing me!" Shizi screamed after the twelfth hit. "It's too much! It's torture! Please, Miss Xiuliu, stop!" His cries were desperate, but she didn't miss a beat. Instead, she laughed, her eyes alight with a sadistic glee that sent chills down his spine.
The Chinese lady's arm swung like a pendulum, delivering blow after blow to his already bruised and swollen bottom.
Shizi's eyes rolled back in his head, and he lost count of the strikes. The pain was so intense that it seemed to have transcended reality, becoming a part of him. He felt like he was floating, adrift in a sea of agony, unable to find the shore.
Shizi faintly heard Xiliu say, "You've had fifty, little one. Only fifty more to go." But before she could deliver the fifty-first blow, his body had had enough. With a final, desperate gasp, he passed out cold, his head lolling to the side, his body going limp.
Xiuliu studied him for a moment, her breathing heavy from her exertion. She set the paddle down, her eyes lingering on the red and swollen flesh of his bottom, already decorated with a mosaic of purple and yellow bruises. She felt a twinge of something like pride - she had truly broken him, and yet there was still so much more to come. With a gentle sigh, she unbuckled the stocks and lifted his limp form off the table, redressing and carrying him effortlessly to his designated bedroom.
The suite was as luxurious as any other in the hotel, with a four-poster bed draped in silk sheets that smelled faintly of jasmine. She laid him down with surprising care, his body limp and lifeless. His breathing was shallow and uneven, a testament to the pain he had endured. She knew that when he awoke, he would be in agony, but she also knew that the lesson she had taught him would be one that he would never forget.
With a graceful stride, Xiliu walked over to the sink in the adjoining bathroom. The water was cold and crisp, just the way she liked it. She took a deep gulp, feeling it soothe her parched throat. As she drank, she couldn't help but smile at the thought of the boy's impending punishment. It was a thrill she hadn't felt in a long time, the power to shape someone so utterly to her will.
When she returned to the bedroom, Shizi was still unconscious, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of sleep. Xiliu couldn't help but admire the way the light from the afternoon sun cast shadows across his bruised and swollen bottom. She approached the bed and began to tie his wrists to the wooden posts with the silk sheets, ensuring that the knots were tight but not cutting off his circulation.
Her heart raced with excitement as she took in the sight of his bare, vulnerable body. This was the part she enjoyed the most – the moment before she woke him and the reality of his punishment set in. With a gentle hand, she caressed his cheek, her thumb brushing against his full, pink lips.
"Wake up, Shizi," she whispered, her voice a sweet caress that seemed to cut through the veil of unconsciousness. His eyes fluttered open, and she could see the panic in them as he took in his surroundings. The fog of his mind cleared, and the pain came rushing back, a tsunami that crashed over him and left him gasping for air.
"It's time for the last fifty,” Xiliu said, her tone a mix of satisfaction and anticipation. He struggled against the restraints, his eyes wild with fear. But it was futile. He was at her mercy, and she had no intention of letting him go until she had finished her task.
Xiuliu approached the bed with the same mahogany paddle that had painted his bottom with a mosaic of pain. She watched his body tense as she raised it, the muscles in his abdomen tightening in a futile attempt to protect himself. With a swift, precise motion, she brought it down on his right cheek, the impact echoing through the room.
Shizi’s scream was like a siren, piercing and desperate. His eyes watered, and he bit down on his lip so hard it bled. The pain was a living, breathing entity that consumed him, and he felt powerless to resist it.
One by one, the final fifty strikes of the paddle fell upon his bruised and tender flesh. Each blow seemed to hit a new, untouched part of him, sending waves of agony through his body. He thrashed and bucked against the restraints in a futile attempt to escape the relentless assault.
Finally, it was over. The last strike echoed in the room, and Xiliu stepped back, admiring her handiwork. His buttocks were a swollen mess of purple and red, the perfect canvas for the next phase of his punishment. With a deft twist of her wrist, she undid the last knot holding him to the bed.
Shizi collapsed onto the mattress, panting and sobbing, his body a symphony of pain. Xiliu stepped back, giving him a moment to catch his breath before she disappeared out the bedroom entrance.
When she returned, she was carrying a small, white porcelain bowl filled with a creamy substance. The smell of buttermilk filled the room, a stark contrast to the coppery scent of blood and sweat that had been left in the air by the paddling. Her steps were light as she approached the bed, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.
Shizi’s eyes snapped open as he felt the cool touch of the substance being spread over his bruised skin. He winced and whimpered, but she shushed him softly, her voice a strange mix of kindness and authority. "This will help with the pain, my dear," she said, her hands working in slow, deliberate circles over his buttocks.
The cream was thick and fragrant, the scent of lavender and mint wafting up to his nose. It was cooling against his fevered flesh, and as she continued to spread it on, the pain began to recede like a retreating wave, leaving behind a pleasant tingling sensation. He watched her through his tears, his vision blurred, as she dipped her hands back into the bowl, her movements precise and methodical.
With each stroke of her hands, the pain lessened, and the tension in his body began to dissolve. He couldn't help but feel a strange sense of gratitude towards her, despite the agony she had just inflicted. It was a twisted dynamic, but one that seemed to be the norm in this place.
When the bowl was empty, Xiliu stepped back, her hands glistening with the remnants of the buttermilk cream. She nodded in satisfaction at her work before setting the bowl aside. "Good boy," she murmured, her voice a gentle caress in the aftermath of the storm.
Shizu couldn’t believe the sudden tenderness in her tone, but he was too exhausted to question it. He felt a strange sense of relief wash over him, his body craving the comfort she offered.
Xiliu returned to the room after a few minutes, her expression unreadable. In her hands was a glass of ice-cold watermelon juice, the kindness of the gesture a stark contrast to the pain she had just inflicted. She held it to his lips, her eyes watching him intently as he took small, tentative sips. The cold liquid soothed his dry throat, and he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope.
After ensuring he had finished the entire glass, she set it aside and leaned over him, her breasts pressing into his face. "When you're 18," she whispered into his ear, "You can feel these jugs bare! For now, we have to stick to this." She took his head and gently rubbed it against her soft, warm yukata-covered breasts. The fabric was smooth and comforting against his bruised cheek, and despite the pain he felt, Shizi couldn’t deny the strange comfort it brought him. It was a twisted form of nurture following the harshness of his punishment, reinforcing the complex web of emotions he had become entangled in.
With a final, lingering caress, Xiliu straightened up and stepped back from the bed. "Rest now," she said firmly, her eyes gleaming with a mix of satisfaction and something else - perhaps a hint of affection? "When the manager calls for you, you will go to her. Do you understand?"
“Yes ma’am!” Shizi replied.
31-35, M