They Punished Me with a Ruler Before the Flight

When Bruno came into the bedroom with a glass of water he had squeezed a lemon into, he was not surprised to find her asleep, naked, face down. Her legs spread, her arms flung out in a cross on the sheet stained with wetness. At the edge of the bed, naked, the other one she called the Third was stretching himself awake.

It was a different Saturday dawn. After the night before, when they had fucked her until she was too weak to stand, a message had come through: the airport was shutting down and the flight was delayed by a few hours. Bruno had wandered the apartment kitchen, bored, until he found something in a pantry drawer.

—Look what I found —he had told the Third, showing him an old green school ruler. One of those thirty-centimeter ones, thick and flexible, the numbers already worn away by use—. Who keeps a ruler like this? —he wondered, not expecting an answer.

The Third looked at it with something close to nostalgia.

—It’s one of the first ones, like mine. With a little hole in the corner that I never knew what the hell they made it for.

And he looked back at her: the bronzed skin of her narrow back, the slender, sinewy arms, the small, hard, pert ass, the kind that makes you want to mark it out of pure meanness.

—But for other little holes we do know what they’re for —he added, slipping his foot between her legs as she woke and propped herself up on one elbow to straighten up. Bruno put his foot on top of hers and stopped her.

It wasn’t fully dawn yet, and she realized they were going to keep using her. She was wrecked, sore, with a dry mouth, like when she overdid it training boxing at the gym. And she knew that like this, battered and dazed from sleep, she was even more appetizing to them. A rat trapped by the cat. In that broken state she was the prey predators love.

The Third finished the water and sat at the foot of the bed to play with the ruler over her skin. She felt it go down her back, the edge tracing her spine, up and down again to her small, firm waist, farther down until it slid between her buttocks and slowly reached her sex.

She clutched the sheets with both hands. The first smack rang out sharp and searing across her round ass cheek. A red line drew itself across her smooth white skin. She buried her face in the sheet, bit her lip, and waited for the second blow, which did not take long and burst against the other cheek.

Bruno rolled her onto her back by one arm. Her doll-like face and small eyes looked even smaller in the lingering sleep. She was beautiful even with her lips bare of color, devastated, her hair mussed across her forehead. Her head ended up beside Bruno’s sex, and without preamble he shoved it into her mouth.

They had been using her since the night before. She had slept steeped in sex, pressed against one of them. And now, half-awake, she gave herself over to the agitation their already hard cocks stirred in her, hungry for her. And that green whip that was going to bite into her skin.

The ruler moved over her stomach, anticipating the blow. It brushed her hips, went down to her knees, moved up the inner side of her rounded legs. It stroked her sex, softly, and then she feared the worst. But the ruler rose again over her belly and she was able to concentrate on sucking Bruno’s cock with care.

—You know, old man? Morning sex is impersonal —she heard Bruno say—. It’s just to satisfy the body, nothing more.

She thought he was right, but kept quiet. They were the leftover heat that had survived sleep and was beginning to claim its due on her skin, in her mouth. The desire to be used, opened, penetrated once more. Just one more time.

A ruler like that was the one the nun used at school. When she lined up in the row for the smallest mistake, the woman would run the cold edge down her leg and then bring the blow down. “Don’t cry,” she warned her. And if a tear slipped out in silence, she would pull her from the classroom and mark her skin where nobody could see it. That was how she learned to endure punishment, and sometimes she even took the punishment for her younger sister so they wouldn’t punish her instead.

Now the anxiety that ruler stirred in her unsettled her, but the smell of sex, the taste of sex, their hot skin, the hardness of their bodies and their firm hands turned her on. A mix of fear and desire, of pleasure and pain.

While the Third, from the foot of the bed, played with her skin, she buried her face between Bruno’s hairy balls, trying to satisfy him. Her body stretched out delicate and seductive: breasts barely noticeable, flat hard waist, toned legs she surrendered to the other man over the stained sheets.

Her eager muscles tightened on the bed and she gave herself to the ordeal, to the urge to be possessed and punished if they wanted it. To be submitted to, used for anything. The ruler cracked across one leg, then the other, and made her moan, but now more from desire than pain.

Day was breaking. Afterwards they would go catch the plane. It was the morning one, as they called it. They would use her and go back home to their families, and she, after stopping at a shopping center for shoes and perfumes, would return to her city on an afternoon flight. On Sunday she would see her mother and on Monday she would go back to being the serious manager of a finance company. But now she belonged to them, amid the smell of semen, of its sour-sweet taste that she swallowed hungrily.

The Third knelt on the bed. He ran the ruler along the inner side of her thigh, forcing her to open her legs wider, then over her stomach, tearing a whimper from her that was halfway between fear and the deepest pleasure.

With every ruler blow the Third landed on her hips, on her smooth legs, on her waist, she put more effort into sucking, licking, rubbing her face against that red-hot cock Bruno offered her. The ruler lacerated her; the smack made her jump. And between the drag of the tip along her sides and the dry lash on her hip, she panted like a bitch in heat. The two of them noticed it.

—One leg over the shoulder is going to have to do, brother, if you don’t mind —the Third said from below.

—Not at all, I’ll hold her. And pass me the ruler, because I already know where to hit this little slut.

The Third, kneeling between her legs, spread them, lifted them, and folded them against her belly. He aimed his hot, hard flesh like bone and drove into her with incredible ease, farther than she had thought possible. Bent, skewered, and motionless under the man’s eighty kilos, she saw him hand the ruler to Bruno, who trapped her hands above her head and left her breasts exposed.

She guessed the blow seconds before feeling it: the lash burned her chest, split her skin, opened her fragile nipple, which in seconds shifted from white to a purple-red that burned unbearably. But the pain did not lessen the pleasure of feeling herself open, pierced, and filled beyond anything she had imagined.

The violated nipple magnified the pleasure. She panted. And when the second ruler blow landed on the other breast, more precise and cruel, she closed her eyes. In the middle of that hellish burn, sweating and subdued, she understood that with them she was just a thing, an object of pleasure, a helpless animal. And that unleashed a frenzy she had never imagined possible.

Trapped on her back, with her head in Bruno’s crotch and folded with her feet on the Third’s shoulders, she felt the ruler’s edge pressing slowly against her swollen nipples. With no one even touching her clit, that contact shoved her into an uncontrollable orgasm rising from her stomach. And so, like a little animal beaten for pleasure, freed from all shame, she let her body fill with pain and pleasure at the same time. She moaned, then shrieked, cried out soundlessly, curled in on herself, her arms held above her head, in an orgasm made of suffering and delight that overwhelmed her.

The Third, with his cock inside her, held himself back to feel her convulse around him. Her mouth was open in a silent cry, her eyes squeezed shut as if she were about to burst into tears, her waist taut. And only when she began to calm down, before she had finished panting, the man crushed into her without mercy, drove all the way in, and emptied himself inside her, making her close her eyes again and bring the orgasm back to life.

***

Bruno had not stopped tracing her stomach and nipples with the edge of the ruler, with curiosity and malice. When the Third pulled away and sat on the edge of the bed, she stretched her legs out over the sheets. Bruno spread them with the ruler and slowly ran it along the inside. Every touch sent a shudder through her.

He had her lying on her back in front of him, still propped against the headboard, and from there he could tell how aroused she was: dilated pupils, reddened nose, discolored lips. Saliva had dampened her hair and beads of sweat gleamed at her temples. From the barely noticeable breasts only the nipples rose, once pink and now maroon, thick from the blows.

He tapped the ruler softly over her belly until he brought it to the edge of her lips and made her suck it. He had her at his feet, tense, hard as a stalking animal, puffing in unease. And with sickening slowness he ran the ruler over her clit, rubbing it, crushing it. Just that.

It was so swollen the tip showed between her lips. He rubbed the ruler over it and she only panted, paralyzed; only her hips reacted to the edge sliding into her folds and opening her.

Bruno understood that she was waiting for a ruler blow there. That anguish, that waiting, had her on the border of her greatest forbidden pleasure. At one point she closed her legs.

—If you put your legs together, I’m going to wash up and leave —he warned her.

Without hesitation she opened them again and bit her lip. He gave her soft but threatening blows over her already wet sex.

—Please, please —she stammered.

—Please what?

—Don’t treat me like that, not… not like that. —She looked at him with that sweet good-girl face of hers, brows arched upward, eyes wet.

—Do you like feeling a good hard ruler smack?

She took a long moment before whispering a weak “yes” and nodding.

—And did you like feeling the ruler on your tits?

—It turns me on —she answered, nodding—. I like that you like it —she added almost in a whisper.

—Of course. And now you want a ruler smack on your sex, don’t you? You’re a real slut. A smack there, right on the button.

—No, not there, please, no… —She caught her breath and went on, softly—. I don’t know… if you want. —And with almost a sob she heard herself say—: Yes, yes, that’s what you want… but don’t torment me anymore, I can’t stand it.

—Good. I’m going to hit you down there, but when I feel like it.

He smiled at her, stopped talking, and went back to slipping the ruler between her lips, leaving exposed in the middle that hard, hugely swollen clit throbbing there. He rubbed it up and down, crushing it out of pure curiosity, and she could not take it anymore: she began to come in a soft, almost delicate orgasm. She closed her eyes and lifted her hips, searching for someone who wasn’t there, her pupils rolling white and a soundless cry swelling her chest.

Bruno looked at the Third, who smiled, not missing a thing, and nodded yes. He gave her a few short taps.

—Good. What you were waiting for, slut.

And he brought down a strong, exact, dry blow on her clit. She exhaled as if she would never breathe again, shoved her face between his legs, dug her nails into his arms, and a climax burst out of her like few he had ever seen in his life. Something like a cramp seized her; she pulled her legs together, curled into a fetal position, and a long time passed before she rolled back onto her back, gasping, getting her breath back.

She was still puffing from pure heat, and with her little repressed manager face, her elegant-woman face, she opened her legs again, giving herself up. To be no less, he brought another ruler blow down on her sex and she had another orgasm, softer this time.

When she caught her breath and let go of the arms she had been clinging to, she looked at him with an expression that was more grimace than smile.

—You can do whatever you want with me. I’m yours, for whatever you want —she whispered under her breath.

And slowly, fragile, as if every movement cost her the work of ordering broken bones, she sat herself up, turned over on the bed, dragging the dirty sheets because she simply could not lift herself, until she was lying in front of him. She brought her crotch as close as she could, looking for his ready cock, and with the fingers of both hands she opened her pink, wet sex, offering it to him.

—Whatever you want —she said.