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The slap brought a cry of pain to Iris' lips. On her white buttocks the handprint lingered.

"Be still," said Emir. "I've got one more bond to secure..."

The rope snaked through one hole on the side of the particle board and about her right ankle. Then through the other... around... and through another hole, then around the ankle again and under. Emir pushed the end of the rope through another hole, this one by the heel and sole of Iris' high heel. As with the ankle, the rope was wrapped about the shoe twice... then Emir secured the loose end by running the cord to a peg at the top of the board and tying a hitch to it. He then stepped back to examine his work.

Iris was bound to a pegboard in a compromising position. She was no stranger to pegboards... the walls of the workshed in which she was bound were covered with it, each board sparkling with steel pegs and hooks that kept Emir's tools neatly organized. But this was a new twist. Several layers of board were cemented together, then framed and mounted on an easel stand... of sorts. Only this easel stand was built to support her weight. And judging by the handscrews on the sides of the easel, it was also built to let Emir flip Iris over.

And to think Iris was originally reluctant about letting Emir start a workshop.

Her legs were fastened to the board securely at the ankles and knees, and forced upwards until her toes were nearly level with her generous nipples. Years of elementary-school gymnastics and college yoga left her body amazingly supple, to Emir's and Iris' delight. Together they tried a wide variety of poses which always led to a long night of passion.

Emir began by stroking her body, working his way from the tips of her leather-wrapped fingers down to her pelvis, pausing at the nipples and navel, and then through her pubic hair to gingerly touch her pouty cuntlips, then to tease her exposed asshole, and finally massaging her stockinged legs to the ankles. Iris moaned with each touch... a small fire smoldered deep within her mons. She was ready for Emir to use her.

With a quick push, Iris was turned upside down, hair dangling over her arms. Blood flooded her brain as she recovered her wits. She was now hanging mainly from the ropes about her waist, with support from the binds about her knees and about her bound breasts. From this position she could see what Emir was planning.

Emir was standing, nude, next to his air-powered tool set. He had a pair of earplugs in his hands. He kneeled in front of Iris and put the plugs in her ears.

"Just a little protection... it's going to be a bit loud."

"What?" Iris said. But she couldn't hear his answer through the rubber plugs in her ears. Emir then walked over to the air compressor and switched it on. It was controlled by a pressure switch and would not pump air until the air tank's pressure had dropped below a certain level. Emir then turned on the airflow valve that led to the tool connector.

Emir snapped a lever-controlled nozzle onto the hose. Iris watched in confusion as Emir lowered the nozzle to her breasts. He pressed down the lever. A burst of air rushed out, pushing in her nipple. The pressure did not hurt, and yet Iris could see the flesh yield a good half-inch to the stream of air. The cool air also aroused her nipple, and it fought against the spray with its erectness.

Emir moved the nozzle slowly upwards. The dent in Iris' flesh moved with it... across her breast to her tummy, inching towards her mound. Her pubic hairs were parted by the blast of air creeping towards her pussy.

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The nozzle reached Iris' clit, and she let out an excited gasp. The cold air, pressing and kneading her clit, drove her mad with lust. Fiery sensations rushed about her groin, complementing the numb pressure on her brain. She began to make quiet yelps of joy as Emir brushed her with the nozzle.

Emir silenced Iris with his cock. Her tongue searched for the sensitive areas of her lover's dick... areas she was well familiar with. A brief moan left Emir's lips as the moist friction made his cock glow a shade of orgone purple. He let go of the lever for a second and stroked Iris' cheek with his left hand, then let another blast of cool air ravage her clit.

The airflow stopped. Iris opened her eyes in time to see the world spin about. She was now laying prone on the easel as Emir turned her around. Her dripping cunt was now facing the tank. The blood poured out of her head, leaving her dizzy. She nearly blacked out, and would have if the tingling inside let her.

Emir removed the nozzle and attached the rotary tool on the hose. It was topped with a wire brush. Such a brush could strip paint from a car with only a few seconds' pressure. Iris' eyes were wide with fear... the idea of that brush on her flesh! Surely Emir was not becoming a sadist?

To Iris' relief, Emir removed the brush. He replaced it with a rod, about four inches long and two inches thick. While looking into her eyes, Emir stretched a french tickler over the rod. Iris was still confused... that thing? Spinning inside her?

Emir produced a bowl filled with mineral oil. He sensually and liberally poured the thick oil onto Iris' clit. The oil flowed down her cuntlips and ass, sending shivers through her. He stopped to dip the rod into the bowl. The tickler gleamed as he pulled it out, dripping lubricant. Slowly, he inserted the rod inside Iris.

He paused, looking into Iris' uncertain stare. Then, with a smile on his lips, he pressed the lever that turned the rotor on.