Alex has had it. Tonya's relentless sunshine grin is the last straw on his already frayed nerves. Every chipper giggle, every look on the bright side, grinds deeper into his mood until he snaps. Without warning he snatches her wrists, twisting them behind her back and carrying her to the couch. A massive black ball-gag muffles her protests as he wrenches her into a merciless hog-tie, arching her bare soles skyward in perfect target position. She wriggles as the first crack of the braided whip whistles through the air and kisses the arch of her left foot. A high-pitched shriek ricochets through the gag; her toes curl, scrabbling at the cushions, but each lash lands harder, faster. Alex's eyes burn with dark satisfaction, painting bright red stripes across previously smooth skin. Stroke after stroke, he watches the color bloom across the pale canvas of her soles. Tonya thrashes, tears shimmering on flushed cheeks, yet every scream is met with another hit that stings like liquid fire. The whip dances along the balls of her feet, the heels, the tender stretch between each toe until they tremble and twitch uncontrollably. She can't push away, can't hide; the hog-tie keeps her gift-wrapped for agony. By the final flurry she can only sob into the gag, feet twitching, soles so tender each brush of the rug feels like burning embers. Alex lets the whip hang, satisfied the grin is gone, replaced by raw, beautiful silence.
