This time she is quicker to do as you say, crossing her hands behind her back. You smile, she’s guessed what’s coming. Almost anyway. You snap the handcuffs into place. She tenses and you half expect her to pull away but she doesn’t. Next you go for the rope and begin lashing her legs together.
“Please… I… surely there’s something else…” she begins sounding breathless and uncertain. You can smell her arousal and feel the tenseness in her legs as you finish tying them together at both the ankles and the knees.
“You’ll speak when spoken to bitch!” you order as you stand up and survey your handiwork. Miss Stoller goes quiet and you watch for a while as she tries to test the bounds without falling over.
“Don’t bother” you say with a smirk as you run a hand up the back of her legs and under her skirt to caress her tight ass, “I’ve had some practice at this and you won’t get loose until I let you. And I want the truth first.”
“What tru.. Aaaahhhhh…” she begins before your hand flies back and crashes forwards against her helpless ass, pitching her forward into the boxes. For a moment you enjoy watching her struggle, bent over some of the boxes, trying to get her bound feet under her again.
“The truth about you, your twisted little fantasies about me, and what you’ve been up to at this school.” You reply casting your eye about and picking a riding crop from one of the boxes with a smile, “And I think this’ll help.” Miss Stoller has just got her feet back under her when you bring the crop scything down on her upthrust ass forcing her breasts back into the pile of boxes she’s now bent over.
*CRACK* “Aaaaaaaaahhhhh…. But I…..” *SMACK* “aaaaaaaaaaaahhh!.... plea…” *CRACK* “…aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!.... Alright! Alright! No more! I’ll tell you everything you want just please stop!”
“Good girl” you croon to her as you would to a dog, rubbing the point of the crop up and down her ass crack while you snag a near by dictophone from the shelf and flick it on. “Now from the top and no being coy” you reinforce this with another smack of the crop, “Tell me all about your sick slutty little self.”
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